Thug Immortal

by J-Blunt

  “It can’t be that bad, baby.”

  “And if it is?”

  “Then I would say come party wit’ us and forget about cho problems for a night. S.O.D. in VIP. You invited. I’m B-Real. What’s yo’ name?”

  Chapter 10

  When S.O.D. partied, the party never ended at the club. From Wetness, an expensive motorcade of luxury vehicles drove to a Mansion in Buckhead. All of the people that partied with S.O.D. in the club didn’t come back to the mansion. Only S.O.D. members, a few sports stars with their entourage, and women were invited. In total, close to forty people partied at the after party. Pills, weed, coke, and liquor was in excess. The party didn’t slow until after 5:00 AM. Mecca wasn’t the type to sleep in a strange place or in a house full of strangers. After a few words with Gus, both men grabbed a groupie and left.

  “Yeah, nigga. Drop me off at the honeycomb hideout. I’ma hit you when I wake up so we can get that paperwork from the coffee shop,” Gus said as they walked toward the white Bentley with their groupies.

  “Yessir! You think I’ma forget about anything that gotta do wit’ money?” Mecca laughed.

  “I hope not. I–”

  Gus stopped talking when a big man dressed in dark clothes appeared from his Bentley. The shirt he wore was well-fitted, showing a powerful physique, the bald head and scarred face intimidating. Considering his physical presence, the gun in his hand was unnecessary. Next to him was a man six inches shorter and three shades darker. He was also bald headed and possessed and intimidating stare. Even though it had been ten years since they’d last seen each other, Mecca knew the pair instantly.

  “This a nice car, Mecca,” Born Ready spoke.

  “Born Ready! What up? When you get out?” Mecca asked, visibly shaking in his shoes.

  “Couple months ago. Thought I would come and holla. I hear you doin’ good, and now I see this snow-white Bentley, I agree. You fuckin’ it up in the ATL.”

  “I-I’m a’ight.”

  “Aye, brah, I don’t know what y’all on, but we S.O.D. Stacks on Deck. What’s wit’ the iron?” Gus asked.

  “How ‘bout we get in this Bentley and find out?” Born Ready suggested.

  “We don’t got nothin’ to do wit’ this. Can we leave?” one of the women asked.

  “Nah, nah. Y’all stay. Y’all in a privileged position to learn somethin’. Keep yo’ eyes open.”

  Gus watched Born Ready and Buck Wild intently, waiting for the opportunity to make a move. He had a pistol in his waist and there were about fifteen S.O.D. members in the house one hundred feet away.

  Born Ready noticed the look on Gus’s face and sensed his eagerness to make a move. “You a’ight, brah?” Born Ready asked, pulling a pistol from his waist.

  “Yeah, brah. I’m good.”

  “You ain’t ‘bout to die trynna be a hero, is you?”

  The men locked eyes, feeling each other out. During the stare, Gus realized Born Ready knew his thoughts. When Gus could no longer hold the intuitive man’s stare, he looked away.

  “Now that we got that out the way, ladies, I need y’all to search these niggas for guns and cell phones, and then we can get on our way,” Born Ready said.

  After getting the phones and guns, Mecca drove, Born Ready took the passenger seat, and Gus, Buck Wild, and the women hopped in the back.

  “Why you doin’ this, brah? What you want?” Mecca asked.

  “What we got comin’, nigga. You been out here fuckin’ it up while me and li’l brah was fucked up. That was my move. You took our shit and never sent it. What you got for us?”

  “Y’all don’t need guns for that. My nigga, I got a hunnit Gs for both y’all.”

  The number impressed Buck Wild. Born Ready looked unfazed. “I heard y’all worth Ms, Mecca. Millions. That’s what I need.”

  “Okay, okay. Um, I can’t just go to bank and take that kinda money out. You gotta gimme some time.”

  “You got about five seconds to tell me where the dope and money stash is. I ain’t stupid, nigga, so don’t insult my intelligence.”

  Mecca paused to think over Born Ready’s words. He needed a way to stall. “That shit on the highways right now. I won’t be able to get my hands on that for ‘bout a week.

  Born Ready looked in the back seat and pointed at both women. Buck Wild shot them in the face.

  “Oh shit!” Gus screamed, wiping the dead women’s blood from his face as one of them fell into him.

  “Next bullet got cho boy name on it,” Born Ready said calmly. “We need that stash, Mecca.”

  “Okay, brah! Okay. You got it.”

  “Where we goin’ and how many people in the house?”

  “Westside. Got a stash house.”

  “What’s in there?”

  “’Bout a half mil. Twenty or thirty bricks.”

  Born Ready smiled. “That’s a good start.”

  Nobody noticed Gus’s hand sliding to the door handle. After stopping at a red light, the Bentley slid across the intersection, picking up speed. Gus pulled the tab, quickly unlocking the door. The distinct clucking sound of the lock being disengaged caused his captors’ heads to jerk in his direction, but Gus moved swiftly. As he dove from the car, Buck Wild tried to grab him, not only came away with a ripped piece of his shirt.

  Born Ready began laughing. “Stupid-ass nigga!”

  ***

  Gus rolled to a stop in the middle of the street, the adrenaline rushing through his body blocking the pain from jumping out of a car going thirty miles an hour. The headlamps of a dark-colored Buick came to a stop a few feet from him.

  “Help! I just got kidnapped!” Gus screamed, running toward the car.

  The passenger door opened and B-Real stepped out. When Gus seen his boy, relief washed over him. “B-Real, they kidnapped Mecca! They on they way to the brick lair!”

  Alarm and surprise showed on B-Real’s face. “Oh shit! C’mon, brah. Get in.”

  Gus moved to the rear passenger door. When it opened, the first thing he noticed was the dark-skinned woman with dreadlocks pointing a gun at him. The second was the big, dreadlocked man sitting next to her. When he looked in the driver’s seat and seen the identical twin of the woman in the back seat, he turned to B-Real.

  “S.O.D., brah. We day-one. This how you do us?”

  “We under new management.”

  The pain of betrayal on Gus’s face was too much for B-Real. As soon as he looked away, Queenie began squeezing the trigger. The loud pops and sounds of bullets digging into flesh made B-Real look up again. Gus lay in the street, blood gushing from lethal wounds to his neck and chest. The look on the dying man’s face said more than any words could. Tears filled B-Real’s eyes as he watched the man he once loved like a brother die slowly.

  “Let’s go, nigga!” Pop called from the back seat, interrupting the moment shared by B-Real and his dying friend.

  After wiping the tears from his eyes, B-Real got back in the Buick. A short drive later, Princess parked behind the Bentley outside a big, white house.

  Pop got the women’s attention. “Y’all stay out here. Send me a text if y’all see somethin’. C’mon, B-Real.”

  Born Ready, Buck Wild, and Mecca had already gotten out of the Bentley. When Pop walked up with B-Real, Mecca’s eyes got wide as the sun. “You did this!” he accused.

  “They made me an offer I couldn’t refuse. I’m the face of Stacks on Deck now.”

  “You bitch-ass, Judas-ass nigga! Fuck-nigga!” Mecca cursed, wishing he could get his hands on his betrayer.

  “Y’all discuss that later,” Born Ready interrupted. “Take us in the house.”

  The Brick Lair had a top-notch security system with cameras, lights, and alarms. The doors were specially designed to withstand the force of battering rams and any attempts to get in forcefully. Unless someone blew the door open with a bomb, there was no getting in the Brick Lair.

  But the crew from Texas didn’t need a bomb. They had Mecca and B-Real. After s
ending an emergency text to the sole occupant in the house, the five men approached the door. When it opened, a wild-looking Haitian man showed himself.

  “What up, Mecca?”

  “Let us in. Lock the door behind us.”

  When everybody was inside, Solo locked the door. He turned and seen Pop Somethin’, Buck Wild, and Born Ready brandishing weapons.

  “A’ight, ch’all,” Born Ready spoke up. “Show us the money!”

  Solo was surprised by the guns. He looked to Mecca for a sign of what to do. The leader of S.O.D. shook his head and mugged B-Real. Solo caught on quick and attacked B-Real. Pop Somethin’s Desert Eagle boomed, taking a chunk out of the Haitian’s face.

  Born Ready pushed Mecca forward. “Let’s go, nigga. Time is money!”

  The safe was on the second floor, and it was as big as a bedroom. After Mecca put in the combo, the locks released and the door opened. Inside the safe, shelves lined the walls. On those shelves was $600,000. There were also two tables in the middle. Seventy bricks of ninety percent pure cocaine was stacked up neatly.

  The men were in awe of the drugs and money. Everyone except Mecca. He knew this was his only opportunity for escape, so while the robbers’ attention was occupied, Mecca took a swing at B-Real, catching him on the chin. The betrayer seen a light flash in his brain as he fell to his knees. Mecca sprinted for the door, planning to lock the robbers in the safe. He had just stepped into the hallway when the gunfire erupted. Hot lead slammed into his back, ass, and legs, throwing off his momentum. After catching his balance, Mecca fell against the safe door, trying to close it. Pop and Buck Wild ran at the door, the big men lowering their shoulders and hitting it hard. They hit the door right before it was able to latch, their momentum and strength sending the door flying open. Mecca was lifted from his feet and thrown into a nearby wall.

  “Damn, brah. Why you go and get cho‘self shot?” Born Ready asked as he stood over Mecca.

  “Fuck you, nigga. I knew you was gon’ kill me.”

  “You stupid, nigga. Stupid for thinkin’ you wasn’t gon’ see me again after takin’ my shit. All you had to do was throw niggas a lifeline. Now you lost it all. B-Real took yo’ spot.”

  “Fuck B-Real. He gon’ get his. Y’all ain’t gon’ get away wit’ this shit.”

  Born Ready lifted the gun to Mecca’s face. “I guess you won’t never know how this story end, huh?”

  Chapter 11

  The murders of Gus and Boss were big news in Atlanta. A month had gone by since the killings, and so far the police had no suspects, witnesses, and hundreds of unanswered questions. The million dollar question was where was Mecca? Everybody who had knowledge of S.O.D. knew there were three major figures. Two of them had been found murdered. The third was unaccounted for.

  Rumors in the streets said Mecca killed his second and third in command and fled to Cuba with fifty million. Since he didn’t have any roots in Georgia, most people didn’t have a hard time believing the fictitious tale, but no one in S.O.D. paid any attention to the rumors on the ground. They knew Mecca to be fair, generous, and trustworthy. For those loyal members who didn’t believe the worst about their leader, B-Real fed them lies, saying another clique, S.O.D.’s rival Grind Squad, was behind the hit. The bloodthirsty Stacks on Deck members believed the lie like it had come from an eyewitness.

  “This shit feel like a fuckin’ dream!” Buck Wild slurred, tilting the bottle of Rose to his lips and spilling most of it on his clothes.

  “Yo’ drunk ass!” Born Ready laughed. “I told you we was gon’ do it big when you got out. I wasn’t playin’.”

  “Dawg, we can make a movie outta this shit. Write a book or somethin’. I betcha that shit do numbas. Niggas broke me out and then we took over a city! What! I want Terry Crews to play me!” Buck laughed.

  The brothers lifted their bottles of Rose and toasted, celebrating their newfound success. They were partying with S.O.D. in a strip club called SWEAT. Stacks on Deck had taken over most of the club, partying to show the city they hadn’t folded at the loss of their leaders.

  At the center of the S.O.D. circle was the new leader, B-Real, along with the newest S.O.D. members, Buck Wild, Born Ready, and Sasha, Born Ready’s girl, who was also B-Real’s cousin. They met while he was in a halfway house. Sasha worked at the same factory as Born Ready. After a few fucks, he learned she had family in Atlanta. A few more questions revealed B-Real was S.O.D. When Sasha hooked up a meeting between Born Ready and B-Real, the master chess player was able to tempt the envious backstabber with the promise of a bigger spotlight and the title of leader of S.O.D. Now they were living the new reality.

  Next to the S.O.D. leader’s booth was another booth. Pop Somethin’, Queenie, and Princess occupied it, looking like they were also having a good time, except they sipped watery drinks and watched everything. While Pop trusted Born Ready and planned to stay in Atlanta to get his money up, he didn’t trust anyone else associated with S.O.D. Which is why he didn’t want to become an official S.O.D. member. Him and his bitches were more like groupies with full access.

  “This seem way too easy,” Queenie said, watching as S.O.D. partied like they didn’t have a care in the world.

  “I agree. Which is why we gotta stay on point,” Pop said. “This shit can fold at any moment, which is why we gotta stay ready to go. We ain’t makin’ no home like we did in Dallas. We can’t make the same mistake.”

  “This shit is bold, I tell you that,” Princess added. “Born Ready is a beast, baby. I don’t think we should be in a rush to leave. Atlanta is a gold mine. I think we should bleed this bitch dry.”

  “And we will. We still gotta put phase three down. That’s gon’ give us the whole city, and all that gon’ bring a lot of drama. I don’t want us too close to S.O.D. when the war start. Born Ready smart, but he ain’t givin’ Grind Squad enough respect. That might be the downfall.”

  “That’s why we gotta stay in the shadows,” Queenie nodded.

  A loud voice interrupted Nikki Manaj’s Chun Li playing in the club. On the main stage Buckey, SWEAT’s owner, addressed the crowd. “A’ight, ch’all. What ch’all ‘bout to see gon’ blow y’all minds and make y’all happy y’all paid that hunnit dolla cover charge to see this. If y’all seen her movies, then y’all know she don’t play. And to help her, she brought a couple friends. Without further ado, Stormy the Man Eater!”

  The lights in the club dimmed as the stage lights brightened. Rihanna’s Work played through the club’s speakers as a woman walked onto the stage. Nothing about her was average. At 6’2”, Stormy towered over most women. With heels, her height jumped to 6’6”, and she towered over most men. The Man Eater’s face was hidden by a rhinestone mask with eyeholes. Her ears, neck, wrists, and hands were also covered in rhinestone jewelry. Her body was covered with a black silk robe, but the curves were noticeable through the sheer fabric. She walked to the middle of the stage and sat on a barstool.

  After beckoning to the side stage, a petite woman dressed in a skin-tight, white mini dress wheeled out a table with a number of items on it. Stormy picked up a long sword and showed it to the crowd. After licking both sides of the blade, she stood and stuck most of the sword down her throat. The crowd applauded, wanting more.

  For her next trick, she picked up a cucumber the size of a toddler’s arm and gave it to her assistant. After Stormy got on her knees, the assistant began pushing the giant vegetable in the Man Eater’s mouth. It took a few minutes, but the cucumber eventually disappeared. The crowd applauded, awed by the amazing oral trick.

  When they calmed, she took off the robe and mask, allowing the people to see the up-and-comer in the porn world. Stormy wasn’t a pretty woman. She realized that way before she got her first period, but no one could resist her sex appeal. It oozed from her body when she walked, talked, or looked someone in their eyes. Peanut butter-brown skin, almond-shaped eyes and lips so big she could use a tube of lip gloss in a couple days, her body looked put together by
a comic book artist. Giant, natural K-cup breasts were bigger than a grown man’s head. Her stomach wasn’t flat, but she wasn’t fat, either. She had just enough belly to poke out a little when she had a big meal. Her hips were so wide it looked like she had to walk through a door sideways, thighs big and meaty. Her ass was in the world record book for the biggest natural ass in the United States. When she danced for the club, niggas went crazy, thunderstorming money on the stage.

  After turning the crowd up, she lay on her back and showed how flexible she was by locking her legs behind her neck. Her assistant came out again and handed her the cucumber and a bottle of Grey Goose. Before using the props, the petite woman buried her face in Stormy’s pussy, making the sexy amazon moan in pleasure.

  When she was good and wet, the assistant grabbed the liquor bottle and cucumber and covered them in lubricant. Stormy got on her knees, facing the crowd, and the assistant began pushing the giant cucumber in her pussy. After half of it was in, the assistant began pushing the Grey Goose bottle in her ass. When both holes were packed, the Man Eater reached back and fucked herself with the cucumber while the assistant fucked her in the ass with the liquor bottle. Again, the crowd went wild and threw more money. Then Stormy addressed the crowd.

  “Okay, y’all. For the last part of my show, I’ma need some help. Somebody find me the biggest, strongest nigga out there.”

  All eyes in the club went to the center of the S.O.D. clique. Pop Somethin’ didn’t want the spotlight, so he shrank in the seat. Buck Wild, on the other hand, encouraged by the liquor and a few S.O.D. members, stood.

  “Ooh, yeah!” Stormy moaned. “Bring yo’ sexy ass up here!”

  Buck Wild stumbled through the crowd and up on the stage.

  “What’s yo’ name, sexy?” she asked, looking at the S.O.D. member like she wanted to eat him.

  “Buck Wild, baby!”

  “Flex them muscles for the crowd so they can see you.”

  The big man began to flex and pose like he was in a body building contest. After some encouragement by Stormy and other women in the club, Buck Wild took off his shirt and posed some more. The Man Eater joined in, rubbing oil over Buck Wild’s upper body.