A Thug's Wife (Full Length Novel)

by Shan

  "Ivy League of these streets. Fuck that college shit and I ain't no dope boy ma' and fuck that retirement plan shit. I’ll retire a nigga real quick though," Marco pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and pulled one out.

  Cherie could tell that he was angered by the statement she'd made, but she didn't mean any harm. She was only tryna keep it one hundred with him. Typically he just wasn't what she went for, but that didn't mean she wasn't feeling him.

  "I ain't mean it like that. I'm just saying, I don't normally fuck with street niggas."

  "And, I don't fuck with stuck up bitches. I holla' shawty," Marco fired up his square and walked away. Cherie could go fuck herself for all he cared. He was who he was and wasn't gonna change for one, not even Cherie. There were more pretty faces around that would gladly accept him just the way he was.

  "Marco!" Cherie yelled out to him. She hurried across the street and caught up to him. She tugged on his elbow and turned him in her direction. Kissing him on his cheek, she ran her finger down the side of his face. "Thank you for last night and thank you for keeping me warm just now. That was sweet."

  "Thugs can be gentlemen too in case you ain't know."

  "Can't you take a compliment? Or do thugs not know what that feels like?"

  Marco chuckled, "No need to thank me for being a man ma'. That's just what the fuck I do. Take your lil' stuck up ass on in there and check on your sister."

  Cherie smirked and rolled her eyes at Marco. She stared into his eyes feeling captivated by his street swagger. Just moments earlier, she was thinking about her happiness and being able to sincerely smile for a change and up walked Marco. Maybe God is tryna tell me something. Cherie thought.

  "You wanna go get breakfast? I'm starving, and maybe it'll get my mind off of what's going on with my sister," Cherie suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.

  "You sure it's cool to be seen with my type?"

  "Marco, will you stop? Come on lets go to the Waffle House."

  Cherie grabbed Marco's hand, and the two of them headed towards Marco's car. After getting in, Marco cranked up the car and tilted the volume on the stereo to the max. Cherie sat back in the passenger's seat slowly bobbing her head allowing the music to take her away for a moment.

  She snuck a peek at Marco and then quickly redirected her stare outside of the car. Yea I think I like him. Cherie smiled as her heart fluttered. She placed her hand over her stomach and sucked in a deep breath. She was nervous, and that was good. She couldn't remember a man ever giving her butterflies in all of her nineteen years.

  Marco drove a few miles away from the hospital and pulled into the parking lot of the Waffle House. He got out of the car after parking and walked around to open Cherie's door. "This the type of shit them Ivy League niggas do, right?"

  "Oh, my God, you are not gonna let me live that down are you?" Cherie asked as they walked toward the diner.

  "I don't know. Prolly not."

  They went inside the diner and sat in the corner booth located on the right side of the restaurant. Cherie grabbed her menu and began going over all of the breakfast items. She felt her stomach rumbling and immediately looked up for their waitress.

  "I am so hungry."

  "I can tell. Your stomach is loud as fuck right now."

  Cherie laughed, "You do not hear my stomach."

  "Shit sound like you got some little people up in there fighting or somethin'," Marco chuckled.

  He stared at Cherie admiring her pretty skin tone. He was intrigued by her beauty, but knew if they went any further he would have to tame her nasty ass attitude. He couldn’t stand no stuck up bitch that thought she was too good for the world.

  He could tell by looking at Cherie that she was little hood chick that wanted to be something that she wasn’t. Most chicks like her felt because they were pretty with a nice body that they could look down on the rest of the world, in an attempt to forget where they came from, but Marco was the type to put a chick in her place real quick. If Cherie kept up that attitude, he would have to knock her ass back down a few notches.

  "Whatever nigga. I know what I want, so I hope you ready."

  Cherie called the waitress over, and they ordered their food. A good fifteen minutes later, they had two full plates sitting in front of them and immediately started digging in.

  "Damn, I ain't even think to ask you if you had a man. Somehow I just assumed that you were single," Marco said taking a sip of his orange juice.

  "I am single. I was in a relationship not too long ago, and it didn't quite work out. We decided we were better apart."

  "Good for me and thank Mr. Whoever he is for feeling that way."

  "What about you? I know you gotta have a couple chicks out there. Some baby mamas even."

  "There you go with that stereotype shit. I don't have no kids and if I did she wouldn't be my baby mama, she would be my wife."

  Cherie was at a loss for words. Marco was continuously surprising with every move he made and with every word he'd spoken.

  "If I had a chick, I damn sure wouldn't be all in your face tryna make you smile, ya' feel me? Too old for the games ma'."

  "So, when was your last relationship?"

  "Bout six months ago."

  "Why y'all break up?"

  "She died. She had lupus and didn't know until it gotten too bad to control."

  Cherie placed her fork on her table, "Damn, Marco. I'm sorry to hear that. Wow."

  "Yea, she'd started getting real sick over the past couple of years and kept saying it was colds and shit. I always knew somethin' wasn't right with her, but she wouldn't listen to me when I told her to get checked out. When she finally listened, it was too late. She spent the last few weeks of her life in Parkland Hospital."

  Cherie shook her head. She could hear the pain in his voice as he spoke and knew that the chick must've really meant a lot to him. She suddenly felt iffy about getting to know Marco knowing that she would most likely be compared to his ex all the time. "I am so sorry, Marco. I know that had to be really hard for you."

  "It's cool. It was hard in the beginning, but I'm just glad she's no longer suffering. I know she’s at peace, and that’s cool with me."

  "Yea, I umm--"

  "So, what you be doing Ms. Cherie. You go to school; you work? What's good with you?" Marco asked quickly changing the subject.

  He hated talking about his girl Danielle. Everything had happened so fast when she was diagnosed with Lupus that no one really had a chance to prepare for her passing. She was only twenty years old when she'd died and was getting ready to go to school to be a medical Assistant, but unfortunately her sickness took her down.

  Marco dealt with the loss of Danielle day by day and finally came to the conclusion she was in a better place. He really loved that girl. In fact, Danielle had been the only girl he'd ever loved.

  "I'm not really doing much these days. Haven't really figured out what I wanna do with myself. Been thinking ‘bout enrolling in college and pursuing law. I don't know yet though; I’m still young and tryna figure myself out."

  "You should do that. With the type of shit I be into, I could use a bad ass lawyer on my team."

  "Maybe I will," Cherie smiled.

  They continued to talk over their breakfast, getting to know one another and figuring out if each of them wanted to pursue the other. Cherie had to admit that Marco had her wanting to know more about him. She couldn’t believe that this thug had her intrigued in the way that he did. Upon leaving the Waffle House, one thing was for certain; they made a connection and had chemistry that neither could deny.

  Chapter 16: Got the Trap House Jumping Like Jordan

  A month later……

  Devon jumped in the passenger's seat of Marco's car, and the two of them peeled out of the hospital's parking lot. Got the trap house jumping like Jordan. Pull up in a brand new foreign. 300 on the dash And I paid straight cash. The music was thumping as Devon settled into his seat, blasting Migo’s track Trap House J
umping like Jordan.

  A month had gone by, and Zaria was still in the hospital recovering from her gunshot wound. Even then, everyone had been working their asses off. Putting the Brick Money Boys on was one of the best things that Quasym could have ever done. He hadn't touched any weight since Zaria was shot, but had seen more money in the past few weeks than he had in the months since he started hustling for Andres.

  Marco reached for the knob and turned the stereo down. "What up, D-Money?" Marco said to Devon calling him by the new nickname everybody had given him around the hood. He passed the blunt to Devon and leaned back in his seat.

  "Shit. 'Preciate you coming to scoop me mane. Fuckin' truck went out on me."

  "It's nothin', but what the fuck you doing with your money? I haven't seen you spend a dime on anything besides weed and liquor."

  "Shit that's all I need for now. Tryna save up and get this house my wife been having her eye on. It's a hundred and seventy five thousand. I wanted to flat out buy it with no payments."

  "Who name you gonna put that shit in? Fuck around and have them Feds watching," Marco said as he hit a left on the next street and then pummeled the gas to enter the freeway.

  "I don't know what the fuck I'm a do. Gotta think of something though," Devon took a puff off the blunt and held the smoke in. He slowly blew the Kush in the air and then took another hit. "My fuckin' P.O. on my ass 'bout showing some check stubs and shit and then now she wanna start piss testing a nigga after she hasn’t in two years."

  "Damn bruh, you on papers?"

  "Fuck yea, I got five more years to go on this shit."

  "Fuck getting that house, you need to get a lawyer and try to get off them papers. Them damn white folks gonna have you sitting under the jail for some bullshit. Keep playin’."

  "I know. I’m risking it every day by being out here, but I gotta get this money. I ain’t got no other choice. I refuse to go back to that nine-to-five shit. My wife deserves better, and I'm tired living this way too, you know?"

  "Hell yea, I feel you on that. Maybe one of these days, I'll find me somebody to settle down with and make my wife. Somebody who I can give a life to ‘cause y'all making a nigga feel like he missing something," Marco chuckled.

  "What's up with you and Cherie? I see y'all been kicking it pretty strong lately."

  "Cherie is cool. I'm rocking with her, but I’m just taking it one day at a time though. I don't wanna rush through it. I ain't gonna lie and say I'm not feeling her ‘cause I am. She got me over here thinkin’ ‘bout her ass right now. Real shit."

  "Already. Lil’ sis ‘bout to take over," Devon laughed. "Damn, they got this shit popping. We need another spot ASAP. This shit getting out of hand." Devon said as Marco pulled up on Leath St., a block where they had a trap house set up.

  Several dope fiends were hanging in the yard and even more were standing on the sidewalk. The traffic was thick, and Devon knew that if it kept up, it wouldn’t be long before the door was kicked in.

  The house was owned by a young chick named Latifah. Only thing she wanted for her house being used was her rent and car note paid and some pocket money. Other than that, she enjoyed the various dope boys that were in and out her spot, the free weed, and being able to fuck any nigga she chose. She was a party girl with no kids and no life goals. The whole set up was perfect for her.

  "Well, them cats I was telling you and Sym about is up in there so shit you get a chance to meet them and say whether or not it’s a go. Latifah got a home girl name Mari that want her shit turnt up too, so we in there. We just need a word."

  "A’ight, let me go in here and see what’s up. Muthafuckin’ traffic getting too heavy," Devon stepped out of the car just as Latifah walked outside of her home with a blunt hanging from the lips. Her Apple Bottom tee was tight making her B cups sit extra high; her short shorts hugged her shapely thighs marking a print in between her legs in the shape of a camel toe. She was a pretty girl with pretty chocolate skin and cute pouty lips.

  "Hey, D-Money," Latifah sang as she pulled the blunt from her lips and eyed Devon up and down. She licked her juicy lips admiring Devon’s firm athletic build. She had fucked just about every d-boy that came through her house except for the few that she really wanted which were Quasym and Devon.

  Mainly, she wanted Devon but he seemed to hardly pay her any mind. Even though the weather was quite cool, Latifah always made sure she wore the smallest threads she could find in her closet and made sure her hair stayed on point for whenever he popped up, but no matter what she did, Devon could care less.

  She knew she had some fiyah between her legs ‘cause all the dudes told her so and not to mention her head game. She just couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

  "What up ma’? The fuck y’all doing? Why are all these people standing around like this?" Devon fussed as he looked around.

  "Yo’ that nigga Sym called this morning and said double the weight and shit been hectic ever since. Every two minutes, a fiend knocking at the door," Latifah answered.

  She stared up at Devon’s tall frame and then bit down on her bottom lip. She watched as he tilted the blue and black snapback fitted Mavericks hat he was rocking a slight inch to the side of his head.

  His eyes were low and right so she knew that he was rolling and feeling good. She looked down at the front of his crisp blue jeans checking for his package. She always wondered what it looked like and if he was working with what she imagined he was.

  "Yea, I know all about that, but-man, where the fuck is Rakwon and Ju Ju at?" Devon stepped past Latifah and walked into the house.

  "Aye, you know this the type of shit that a make a nigga stop fuckin’ with you," Marco said to Latifah.

  "What you talkin’ bout?" she asked and wrinkled her brow in confusion. She took a hit of the weed and blew the smoke in Marco’s face. She hit him with a mean ass frown as she waited for him to state his case.

  "Round here fuckin’ and suckin’ on every nigga that come through the door. That’s too distracting, and you need to slow your fuckin’ role. I know you don’t think D-Money gonna give you some dick, now do you?"

  "What the fuck you know about who I’m fuckin’ and suckin’ on? Nigga you just mad that I ain’t gave you some of this pussy."

  "I don’t want it. My boys done already told me they ran a train on you just the other day. You think I want that shit?" Marco shook his head and walked towards Latifah’s house. "But for real, if you wanna keep getting this paper then you need to sit your ass down somewhere and keep your legs closed."

  "Fuck you Marco! You only been around a good month! Sym know how I get down."

  "Yea, whatever."

  Marco walked into the house and headed straight for Latifah’s kitchen where he found Devon, Ju Ju, and Rakwon chopping it up. He went into Latifah’s fridge and grabbed a Budweiser out. He used the edge of the cabinet to pop the top on the beer and tilted the bottle up drinking half the bottle in one setting.

  "I understand all that, but I told y’all from day one to use the back door. No traffic should be coming through that front door like that. Y’all gonna have the whole neighborhood on alert, and the fuckin’ police will be shutting us down by the end of the week," Devon stated, his tone dipped with frustration.

  "Mane, we been telling everybody that shit all fuckin’ day. They coming to the front and the back and some of these muthafuckas we had to turn away. It’s been a lot of new faces all of a sudden," Rakwon said as he leaned against the stove.

  Devon shook his head, "Why is both of y’all in the kitchen? I thought y’all was showing Latifah how to batch this shit up."

  "Latifah moves too damn slow. She too busy tryna get high and fuck. Bottom line is we need more people. We been telling Sym this," Rakwon said as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. He shut his eyes tightly and then opened them suddenly letting out a yawn to signify his restlessness.

  "Where them new cats at you was talking about, Marco?" Devon asked as he looked over at Marco, who was goin
g through his cell.

  "Shit, I don’t know. They were here when I left to come and get you."

  "Sent them to the store to get some more baking soda and baggies," Ju Ju chimed in.

  "A’ight look get Latifah ass in here to cook this shit up. Ju Ju get out there and get that fuckin’ crowd handled, and Rakwon get this shit cut up. I’m a take some of this work off Bickers and then get with Sym about getting some more people on immediately.

  He got trust issues mane; y’all know that. Don’t worry we gonna get it together, but in the meantime y’all doing good. From what I heard the plug is happy and wants to up the weight to an extra few keys a week. He trying to get Sym to push at least fifty a month."

  "Damn," Marco whistled.

  "We ready for it, but we definitely gotta get them other spots up and running or you know we’ll be shut down with the quickness," Rakwon said.

  Yea, I already know fam. That nigga ol’ lady should be getting out the hospital soon. When I left there, they were talking about letting her go home this weekend, so hopefully we’ll see his face soon," Devon commented as he looked down at his watch.

  "What’s up on this Hova situation?"

  "Man Mo been fucking with Hova lil’ side piece Jazz for the past couple of weeks, and he said that the bitch is not talking. He said that cat Hova ain’t been through there since this shit went down either," Marco said pulling up his jeans and straightening out his Polo shirt. He tossed the beer bottle in the trashcan and looked down at his cell.

  "That’s ‘cause he know we well aware of that spot. He ain’t gonna be back over there cause he know we out to get at him. I knew that shit was pointless. Mo might as well get his ass back over here, and we’ll just get at Hova when we get at him. He’ll pop up sooner or later," Devon said.