by CJ Hudson
Before she got a chance to question Nancy about it, the boss peeked in and summoned Nancy into his office. Uh-oh, Tammy thought. She’s about to get her ass chewed out. Tammy felt bad for her friend. Knowing Nancy the way she did, she knew there was something she wasn’t telling her.
Nancy came back out, laughing like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. Tammy was beyond confused.
“Uhhh . . . what’s up, girl?” she asked.
“Mr. James is a trip. He just asked me to coordinate the company picnic.”
Tammy was so flabbergasted she couldn’t even offer a response.
Chapter 5
Hakim stormed into the employee locker room at Foot Locker and plopped down on the bench. He was furious at his mother for hitting him. Although he was out of bounds for even talking about selling drugs in her presence, he still felt that he was much too old to be physically disciplined by her. For the better part of ten minutes, he sat there trying to calm down before going out on the floor to start his shift.
He’d worked as a salesman at Foot Locker for almost a year. Even though he’d gotten a couple of raises since then, the money he was making was still chump change. Buying one pair of tennis shoes would wipe out most of his check, even with his employee discount.
“Hey, youngblood, you working today?” his boss, Jay, asked him.
Hakim glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed that his shift started five minutes ago. “Shit,” he said as he opened his locker and took out his Foot Locker shirt. Frowning as he put it on, Hakim shook his head. He never understood why they were forced to wear the zebra-styled shirts.
Seeing the agitated look on Hakim’s face, Jay walked over to him. “You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m straight. I’m just dealing with some bullshit going on at home, that’s all.”
“Well, don’t let it get you down. We all go through shit at one time or another. Let’s go get this money,” he said, leading Hakim out onto the floor.
The second Hakim walked through the door, his eyes lit up. The store was packed. Damn, it ain’t been packed in here like this the whole ten months I been working here. Doing a few quick calculations in his head, Hakim figured that he could make a killing on commission if he hustled hard enough. His smile grew even wider when he looked up and saw who was walking into the Foot Locker store. Before anyone else could beat him to the punch, Hakim sprinted across the floor and up to Red to offer his services.
“Yo, wassup, Mike?”
Red shot him a death glare. “What you call me, li’l nigga?”
“Oh, my bad, Red.”
Hakim, like everyone else, knew that Red did not like to be called by his government name in public. He was paranoid that way. Hakim had slipped and called him Mike only because it was fresh in his mind after referring to him as Mike when he was at home earlier.
“That’s more like it,” he said, giving Hakim a pound. Red knew of Hakim through Hakim’s girlfriend’s sister. The two met one day when Red showed up to pick her up and saw Hakim sitting there on the couch, making googly eyes at her sister. Although there wasn’t much conversation, Red took a liking to the young lad and told him that if he ever needed anything, just holla at him. This, of course, was mostly just lip service. Red didn’t really expect Hakim to call him on it, and so far, he hadn’t. “You still banging Chanel’s li’l sister?”
“Nah, we broke up three weeks ago,” Hakim said, dropping his head. The wound was obviously still fresh in his heart.
Picking up on Hakim’s sorrow, Red placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hold ya head up, my dude.”
When Hakim lifted his head, he stared directly into the coldest set of eyes he’d ever seen in his life.
“Lesson number one: don’t ever let a bitch break you to tears. Bitches come a dime a dozen. If one starts tripping, slide on to the next one. If the situation starts getting too emotional, back up off that bitch. Feel me?”
Hakim nodded his head absently.
“Good. Now, enough with the small talk. What the fuck y’all got new up in here?”
Hakim had been waiting for this. After showing Red the latest kicks, Hakim sat back and waited for him to dig into his pockets.
“Ya know what? Give me that whole row. Size eleven.”
Hakim’s smile widened as he looked at the row Red was talking about. It had about ten pairs of shoes on it, and not one pair cost less than $80. As fast as he could, Hakim ran to the back and gathered Red’s shoes. By the time he’d finished carrying all the shoeboxes to the counter, he felt like he had been working out at the gym for about three hours. His eyes got as big as beach balls when Red reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of hundreds.
“Damn, I need to be clocking dough like that,” he shrieked.
After paying for his shoes, Red gathered up the two large bags that contained his shoes and headed toward the exit. He suddenly stopped and turned around. Then he opened his mouth as if he were going to say something to Hakim. But just as quickly, Red shook his head, signaling that he had changed his mind, and left.
* * *
Ivory rolled over onto her back and stretched her arms over her head. It took a few seconds for her to realize that Darnell wasn’t lying next to her. She didn’t have to wonder where he was for long as the strong scent of pork sausage attacked her sense of smell. Her eyes popped wide open as her mouth watered. The growling sound of her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten anything since before she was with Tammy the previous day. After going to the bathroom to relieve her bladder, Ivory made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.
For a minute, Ivory just stood in the doorway and smiled. Her sex box got hot and moist as she stared at Darnell’s shirtless body. His deep, dark chocolate skin and well-toned physique had her wanting to devour every inch of him.
As if he had a sixth sense, Darnell spoke without even turning around. “I see you finally decided to get up,” he said, working a spatula with chef-like magic.
Ivory was caught completely off guard by his innate senses. “Yep. I see you got it smelling good up in here,” she complimented him. “What are you cooking?”
“Sausage omelets for me, cereal for you,” he said, pointing toward the Cap’n Crunch cereal box on top of the refrigerator.
“What? Yeah, right, boy. You betta quit playing,” she said, laughing. Ivory took a seat at the table and waited to be served. She couldn’t wait to dig in. She knew from personal experience that Darnell’s cooking skills were on point.
Darnell grabbed two plates out of the cabinet, scooped the breakfast delights out of the skillet, and placed them on the plates. When he turned around to walk toward the table, Ivory could see his hard-on trying to poke through his boxers. “I see somebody wants some more of the good-good this morning.”
“Shit, baby, I’m always down for the good-good.”
“This mean we back together again?” Ivory asked. With all the drama that unfolded the night before, they didn’t get a chance to finish their conversation.
Darnell set Ivory’s plate down in front of her, took his seat across from her, and sighed. “Look, if we gonna be together, then let’s be together. Like I said last night, I ain’t got time for the dumb shit.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t wanna break up. I just be mad when I be saying that shit.”
“Well, the next time you say it, yo’ ass betta mean it,” he said, giving her a stern look. Darnell wasn’t about playing games. He was about his paper. He didn’t mess with the powder but sold weed by the pound.
Ivory felt as if she were being scolded by her mother. She knew right then that she would have to learn to control her temper. Darnell had just made it clear that the next time she acted like she wanted to break up, he would be sure to make it permanent.
* * *
After another steamy lovemaking session, Ivory asked Darnell to run her up to her job so she could pick up her check and see what schedule she was working the next week.
“Yeah. So?”
“So what’s wrong with you driving yo’self up there?”
“Oh, come on, baby, please,” she whined.
“I got some shit that I need to do in a few, so you just gonna have to drive yo’self.”
Ivory responded by grabbing his forefinger and putting it in her mouth. She closed her eyes and seductively sucked on it, rolling her tongue over it. “If you take me, I’ll give you a special treat when we get back.”
Darnell didn’t know if he had any more nut in him. Ivory had damn near drained him dry. Just in case he did, he accepted her offer, thinking that he’d be a fool to turn down such a proposition.
After getting showered and dressed, they hopped into Darnell’s gold tricked-out Oldsmobile Cutlass. They both nodded to Tupac’s old jam, “Toss It Up.” Getting as comfortable as she could, Ivory leaned the leather bucket seat back and put her feet up on the dashboard.
“Get ya fucking feet off my dashboard! You know betta than that bullshit!”
Poking out her lips and folding her arms, Ivory pretended that she was mad. Darnell saw right through it and egged the situation on by reaching over and placing his hand between Ivory’s legs.
“Don’t touch my coochie,” she said, slapping Darnell’s hand away.
Darnell cracked up laughing as he turned into the Rite Aid parking lot. Ignoring the handicapped parking sign, Darnell yanked into the spot reserved for people in worse health. “Yo, hurry up, ma. Like I said, I got moves to make today.”
Ivory hopped her long legs out of the whip and high-stepped into her place of employment. The minute she walked in, she noticed her coworkers looking at her strangely.
The fuck wrong wit’ these bitches?
“Sup, Ivory,” the girl at the front register greeted her.
Ivory noticed the weird look on the girl’s face but ignored it. “Sup, Cookie. Is that the schedule you looking at?”
“Uh . . . yeah.”
“Pass it here then. Let me see how many hours they got me down for next week.”
Hesitantly, Cookie passed it to her. Ivory looked at the schedule, then at Cookie, then back at the schedule. A woman who was ready to pay for her items cleared her throat in an attempt to get Cookie’s attention. Ivory mean-mugged the woman for several seconds before looking back at Cookie.
“How come my name ain’t on the fucking schedule? Never mind! I’ll find the fuck out myself,” Ivory screamed when Cookie didn’t answer her fast enough.
Ivory stormed past her and marched up to the store manager’s office. She pounded on the glass door so hard it threatened to shatter. Ivory peered through the door and saw three people sitting in the office. When none of them got up to answer the door, Ivory took this as a sign of disrespect and started pounding harder.
The manager, whose name was Cassandra, finally got up and opened the door. “Why are you banging on this door like you’re crazy? Have you lost your mind?”
“Damn all that! I wanna know why I’m not on the schedule next week,” Ivory spat.
Not wanting to make a scene in front of the customers, Cassandra asked Ivory to step into the office. The security officer and Fred, both of whom were in the office, stepped out. Fred smirked as he left.
“The fuck you laughing at, you fat muthafucka?”
Knowing that he would get the last laugh, Fred ignored her and kept it moving.
After closing the door, Cassandra wheeled around and got in Ivory’s face. “Let me tell you something, Ivory. If you want to keep working here, you had better learn to control that funky temper of yours,” Cassandra warned.
Not wanting to lose her job, Ivory started to calm down. The fact that Cassandra had used the phrase “if you want to keep working here” told her that she still had a job.
“I’m just saying, Cassandra,” she said, finally lowering her voice, “how come I ain’t on the schedule?”
“You’re not on the schedule because, apparently, you don’t want to work.”
“What? What the hell gave you that impression?”
“You.”
A confused look fell across Ivory’s face. Then it hit her. Fred. That fat muthafucka musta run straight back here and told that bitch that he saw me at the store.
“How the hell are you going to call off sick and then be across the street laughing and giggling with one of your friends? Maybe a week off will remind you that you work for Rite Aid and not the other way around.”
Ivory was so mad she wanted to smack Cassandra in the face. She didn’t trust herself not to do it, so she turned on her heel and walked out of the office, slamming the door in the process. Once again, Fred smirked when she walked past him. This time, Ivory couldn’t control herself.
“You know what? I know yo’ fat ass told Cassandra that you saw me at the store yesterday! Why can’t you just mind yo’ own fucking business, you rusty bastard?”
Cookie and a few of the customers doubled over in laughter at Ivory’s insults. Fred, clearly embarrassed, decided that he wasn’t going to let her do this to him two days in a row.
“I don’t know what the fuck yo’ problem is, but if you don’t stop coming at me sideways, I’m gonna fuck yo’ skinny ass up!”
“You ain’t gonna do shit to me, you bitch-made muthafucka!”
By this time, Cassandra and the security guard had made their way over to where the commotion was. “Fred, go wait in my office, right now,” Cassandra yelled. When Fred didn’t move, the security guard walked over and placed his hand on Fred’s shoulder.
“Come on, man. It’s not worth all this.”
“Yeah, you betta listen to that rent-a-cop! Don’t get fucked up trying to show out,” Ivory screamed. The security guard ignored Ivory and continued looking at Fred.
Cassandra grabbed Fred by the hand. “Listen to him. It’s not worth it.”
“It damn sure ain’t worth it,” Darnell said. He had come in to see what was taking Ivory so long. As soon as he heard loud screaming, he didn’t have to wonder who the guilty party was. “’Cause if you put your greasy-ass hands on my woman, fat boy, I’m gonna shave fifty pounds o’ bacon off ya back.”
Fred made a move toward Darnell but was stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the familiar click that everyone in the hood was aware of. Darnell wasn’t stupid, though. No one saw the gun under his coat, but it didn’t take a genius to know that he had one.
“You got something you wanna say, Mr. Security Guard?”
“I just don’t wanna see anybody get hurt in here.”
“Then y’all betta take his ass on somewhere.” Cassandra and the security guard led Fred to the manager’s office.
“What about my damn check?” Ivory screamed.
“They haven’t come in yet. When it gets here, we will mail it to you.”
Right then, Ivory knew that her days of working at Rite Aid were over.
Chapter 6
Shortly after returning home to drop off his purchases, Red hit the road again. This time he was on his way to meet up with Bobby. They were supposed to meet with a few of the local knuckleheads who wanted to cop some weight from them. Red dipped in and out of traffic on I-90 west. His patience grew increasingly thin as every driver on the road seemed to want to follow the speed limit today. “Muthafucka, come on,” he yelled out the window to an old white lady driving a beat-up Ford Escort. He was nowhere near late, but he knew that Bobby was probably already there, and the last thing he wanted to hear was his cousin bitching at him about tardiness.
Red smiled as he thought about the come-up that he and his cousin were about to stumble upon. They stood to make a cool $60,000 on this sale if everything went according to plan. He was thinking so hard about the cash that he almost missed his turn. Red got off at the Eddy Road exit and hung a left. After crossing St. Clair Avenue, he decelerated. He had no plans of getting stopped at this point and letting some cop fuck up his paper. Red hung a right at t
he stop sign. As soon as he pulled into the parking lot of the Bump Taylor football field, he saw Bobby looking down at his watch.
“You gon’ be late to yo’ own damn funeral,” Bobby said, frowning.
“No, the fuck I ain’t, ’cause I ain’t showing up at that bitch.” The two cousins laughed and gave each other a pound.
“How long we have before these muthafuckas get here?” Bobby asked.
Red looked at his watch and saw that they had about fifteen minutes before the buyers got there. “We got a few. Let’s burn one.”
“Now you’re talking my language,” Bobby said as he reached into his pocket and took out an already-rolled blunt. “You really think these stupid muthafuckas gonna try this dumb-ass shit?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it,” said Red. “If the info I got is on point, I think the shit is pretty much guaranteed.” After passing the blunt back and forth twice, Red spotted a black Lexus pulling into the parking lot. He got on his phone and dialed a number.
“What you got for me?” He listened for a minute before spitting out, “That’s just what the fuck I figured! Dirty muthafuckas!”
Red hung up the phone and looked at Bobby. With a look and a nod, Bobby knew just what Red was getting at. Bobby quickly chambered a round in his 9 mm. Red already had his .45 Desert Eagle off safety and tucked on the side of his hip. The black Lexus came to a stop about twenty feet away from where Red’s and Bobby’s whips were parked. When the doors opened, three militant-looking brothers with bald heads and camouflage army fatigues jumped out and started walking toward them. One of them was carrying a black duffle bag that was supposed to contain the buy money. However, based on the research done by Bobby and Red’s team, Red knew that was far from the truth.
“Showtime,” Bobby sneered.
“Yo, what it be like, homies?” the shortest of the three asked. “Y’all ready to handle this business?”
Without saying a word, Bobby reached down on the ground and picked up a brown briefcase. Looking around carefully, he opened it just wide enough for the buyers to see what was inside.
