Thug Immortal

by J-Blunt

  Queenie sat heavily in the kitchen chair. “It’s been four days and he ain’t called or answered the phone. I don’t know what to do. Should I file a police report? I already checked all the jails and hospitals.”

  Princess threw the dishrag in the sink and spun to face her sister. “This is why I told yo’ ass not to fall in love! No, don’t call the police. You seen how Pop was actin’ before he left. He didn’t talk to us, fuck us, or sleep in the same bed. I pulled a gun on him. Yo’ stupid-ass fucked Shanice and then convinced her to fuck Pop. If I was Pop, I wouldn’t talk to our ass, neither.”

  “But he don’t remember nothin’. He was in a coma.”

  “That’s not the point, Queenie. He mad. He feel betrayed. I know how Pop think. He ain’t goin’ nowhere. He thinkin’ it out his own way. He comin’ back. He operates on principles, not emotions. Loyalty. He knows what he has in us. He knows we’ll be there when he calls. It’s a waiting game. He’ll come back when he ready.”

  “I hope you right, ‘cause I miss him.”

  “He will. Trust me. Have you talked to Shanice? How is she doin’?”

  Sadness shown in Queenie’s eyes. “Pop hurt her. I think she really hate him.”

  “You know you played a part in all this, right? You shouldn’t have brought her in this. You tried to manipulate her and Pop, and it backfired. Hope you learned yo’ lesson.”

  “I know. I fell bad about everything. I wish I could fix it. And you wanna hear somethin’ crazy?”

  Princess knew Queenie was about to drop a bomb. “What?”

  “I like Shanice for real. I wanna keep her around.”

  Princess shook her head. “You just ain’t gon’ learn, is you?”

  Beyoncé and Jay-Z’s Drunk in Love played as Queenie’s phone rang. Her eyes lit up and her heart skipped a beat as she raced to answer. “Hey, baby! Where you at? Why didn’t you come home?”

  Pop’s voice was flat, devoid of any emotion. “Princess wit’ chu?”

  “Yeah. I got it on speaker. She can hear you.”

  “I’ma be outta town for a couple more days. I need y’all to take care of somethin’ for me. Earn my trust back. Y’all betrayal cut me deep. I think y’all need anotha trial by fire. Get up wit’ Born Ready, and he gon’ let ch’all know the move. Don’t try to call me. I ain’t gon’ answer.”

  “Wait, Pop! Where you at?” Queenie called.

  “Bitch, he hung up. You heard what he said. Call Born Ready. Let’s do what we gotta do to bring this nigga back home.”

  ***

  Pop lay the phone down and closed his eyes, thinking about his twin bitches. They had become parts of him, like an extra set of hands. Or eyes. He trusted them completely, knowing their loyalty was true, but they had betrayed him. Princess pulling the gun was understandable. She was protecting her little sister like she had their whole life. But Queenie’s actions were unexpected. Her love for him was making her slip, and that had to be punished. She went against him, and not only did she get in contact with Shanice, but fucked her.

  Pop let out a long breath when his cousin entered his mind. The pain on her face and in her voice haunted him, threatening to undo his sanity. He never wanted to hurt her or cause her pain, but he did. She tried to attack him. But it was her fault. He warned her about getting involved with street niggas.

  He reached for the blunt in the ashtray, lighting it and taking a long pull. Regret washed over him as he breathed out a cloud of smoke. He wished he hadn’t handled her so rough, but her love for C-Note clouded his judgment. The truth burned in his chest as he took another puff of loud. He was jealous of C-Note. Queenie was right. He loved Shanice, had been in love with her since they were kids. But incest was unthinkable until she brought him out of the coma. He’d dreamed about fucking her every night since he’d woken. She had become a need, which is why he hurt her feelings. He purposely drove a wedge between them, forever keeping them apart. To protect his sanity, he needed to stay as far away from Shanice as possible. It was the only way.

  Movement in the bed make him look over. The nurse was waking from sleep. The Columbian was a dime, soft tan skin, pretty eyes, juicy lips, and a perfect smile. She reached out to Pop, running a hand through his beard.

  “Good morning, papi.”

  “’Sup?”

  “I wish I could wake up next to you every morning,” she purred, rubbing his face and neck, stopping at the healed scar on his chest.

  “My life is too complicated right now. Plus, not bein’ around you make, it special when we do get together.”

  After rubbing the scar, the nurse’s hands moved farther down his body, grabbing his meat. “Oh. You wake up ready, don’t you?”

  “Gotta stay ready so you won’t have to get ready.”

  “Good one,” she laughed, stroking him. “I want to thank you again for what you did for me. My life feels like mine again. I don’t know how you got him to shoot himself, but–”

  Pop cut her off. “I don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout.”

  She gave him a long stare. Pop’s gaze reflected his position on pillow talk about business. “I’m sorry. I should’ve known better. But I’m free now. And if you ever need me, don’t hesitate to call. I will take care of whatever you need.”

  Pop looked down at her hand rubbing his dick. “If you take care of that, I would be forever indebted.”

  She moved closer and kissed the bullet scar on his chest. “Your wish is my command.”

  ***

  Detective Blank felt like a lucky man. In the 49 years he’d walked the planet, he never got the chance to witness anything like he hoped he was about to see when he closed the hotel door. He was short and chubby, balding on the crown of his head, and looked like a Danny DeVito impersonator, but the women on his right and left arm made him feel like he was the handsomest man in the world. Queenie pressed her body into the smaller man as they walked toward the cheap room. Her dreads were piled atop her head in a wrap, and she wore a tight, black mini-dress and heels. The curves of her body and bouncing backside had the white man’s dick dripping precum. On his right arm was Princess, dressed similarly to Queenie, his hand gripping the soft flesh of her ass like it was a grocery bag.

  As soon as they walked in the hotel room, Blank told them what he wanted. “You two on the bed. I wanna watch first. This is so fuckin’ hot, and my dick’s been dripping since I seen you kiss at the bar.”

  When the cop took a seat in the chair, the sisters knelt in the center of the bed, kissing each other passionately and grabbing ass. The dresses came off a few seconds later, and the sisters took turns sucking each other’s breasts. When Queenie lay back, Princess dove between her legs face-first.

  The heavy action had the cop more turned on than he had ever been in his life. Instead of undressing, he pulled his dick through the zipper and began jacking off. Watching the dark-skinned sisters committing the taboo act had him busting a nut in a couple minutes.

  Princess looked up when he moaned. The detective had nutted all over his hand and pants. “Come over here and let us get that back hard for you.”

  A lustful grin spread across his face as the cop stripped down to his boxers.

  “Get them cuffs,” Queenie said.

  After grabbing the cuffs, he crawled onto the bed and gave them to Princess. “Cuff me up good,” he grinned.

  Princess cuffed him to the headboard. As soon as they were sure he was helpless, the sexual atmosphere changed to serious. Queenie went for her purse, pulling out a pair of switchblades.

  “Hey! No sharp objects,” the detective protested.

  “No, baby. We need these to get what we want,” Queenie smiled, crawling toward him with the six-inch blade.

  Blank got mad and began yelling. “You stupid bitches! Uncuff me right now! I’m done playin’ games. Somebody help!”

  Princess stuffed his own socks in his mouth to muffle the screams. “Shut the fuck up! You sound like a li’l bitch. Tell us what we want so we c
an get the fuck outta her. Who told you S.O.D. killed Sid and Duke?”

  He mumbled something. Princess removed the socks.

  “I ain’t tellin’ you bitches nothin’! Help! Somebody help!”

  Princess stuffed the sock back in his mouth as Queenie’s knife dug into his belly. Instead of pulling it out, she twisted, trying to get it deeper. Blank’s muffled screams filled the room, and he bucked away from the blade. Queenie snatched the knife out and watched blood gush from the wound.

  “Damn, gurl!” Princess said, a little disgusted.

  “His punk-ass trynna be tough! Tell us the bitch name, white boy. Who is she?” Queenie said, putting the knife to his throat.

  When he began mumbling again, Princess pulled the sock from his mouth. Instead of telling them what they wanted to know, he spit in Princess’s face and began thrashing around wildly. “Help! Help! I’m a police officer! Help!”

  Princess tried to stuff the sock back in his mouth, but he shook his head, continuing to thrash around wildly. Queenie jumped from the bed and grabbed his service gun. “Quit screamin’ ‘fore I shoot yo’ bitch-ass!”

  He calmed at the sight of his Glock 9. “Please, ladies, don’t do this. You don’t know what you’re doing. If you kill me, the whole S.O.D. organization will go down.”

  Princess straddled his lap to keep him from bucking around, then she put the knife to his dick, applying just enough pressure to make him whine. “Gimme the bitch name or I’ma re-circumcise yo’ ass.”

  “Listen to what I’m telling you. You will not get away with killing me. Ah!”

  Princess dug the knife deep into his dick and balls. He screamed so loud Queenie ran over to cover his face with a pillow. When Princess snatched the knife out, Queenie waited for him to calm down before removing the pillow. The detective was in the worst pain. He wouldn’t stop sweating, his face and body red from pain and anger.

  “Okay,” he moaned. “Her name is Melissa Robinson. She lives over by Pittsburgh. But don’t think this is over for you bitches. I’m going–”

  Queenie smashed the pillow on his face and began stabbing him in the chest. Princess joined, stabbing him in the stomach repeatedly. The detective’s body jerked and spasmed as the sisters stabbed over a hundred times apiece. They didn’t stop stabbing until he stopped moving. When they came from the blood trance, blood was everywhere, all over the bed, the twins, and the walls. Princess looked at her hands in amazement. They were covered in the cop’s life fluids.

  “Oh shit!”

  Queenie didn’t seem phased at all. “C’mon. Let’s clean up so we can get the fuck outta here.”

  Princess walked like she was in a trance as she followed Queenie to the shower. “You okay?” Queenie asked, noticing the dazed and disoriented look on her sister’s face.

  “I-I don’t know. That shit was crazy.”

  Queenie grabbed the bar of soap and towel, joining Princess in the shower. “That shit was a rush. I felt his life drainin’. I feel like a goddess. My pussy wet as fuck!”

  Princess continued to look dazed, then she reached down and rubbed her pussy, surprised to find it wet. “Damn. I’m wet, too. I feel weird. And horny.”

  Queenie stopped washing and pulled Princess close. After tonguing her, she kissed her way down Princess’s bloody body, getting on her knees and sucking her pussy. When she came, Princess returned the favor. When they finished showering, the sisters cleaned the room as well as they could before setting it on fire.

  ***

  Me-Me loved the attention she got when she put on clothes that flaunted her curvy body. The Dominican and black beauty stood 5’3” and weighed 140 pounds. Her 36Cs jiggled in the low-cut blouse, so much cleavage on display her areolas showed. The white yoga pants flexed her phat ass, thick thighs, and fat pussy lips. The long, fake ponytail bounced with the sway of her hips every time her red bottoms clicked the concrete. Men, women, and children stopped what they were doing to take a look as the bronze-skinned angel passed by.

  When the dark-colored Crown Victoria slowed and began keeping pace with her, Me-Me knew what to expect. When the tinted window rolled down, a man would ask her where she was going and if she needed a ride. If he was handsome or looked like he had money, she would get in. If he was ugly or broke, she would keep on moving.

  As soon as she finished her thought, the passenger window rolled down. Instead of a man, Me-Me was surprised by the sight of beautiful, dark-skinned twin sisters. The passenger smiled flirtingly. “Excuse me. Are you Me-Me?”

  The temptress immediately assessed the situation. She didn’t know the women but they showed no hostility. They were polite and smiled. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. “Yeah. I’m Me-Me. Do I know you?”

  “Melissa Robinson?” Queenie asked, making sure.

  A red light went off in Me-Me’s mind. How did she know her real name? Was it drama? Did she fuck her man?

  When Queenie noticed the nervous look on the woman’s face, she laughed and smiled. “Relax, girl. We not on bullshit. I got somethin’ for you, and I just wanna make sure you who we lookin’ for. I don’t want to give this to the wrong person.”

  Hearing she was about to receive something changed Me-Me’s demeanor, and the smile was back. “Yeah, I’m Melissa. What you got for me? Who is it from?”

  “Duke want you to meet him, bitch!”

  Me-Me didn’t have time to figure out the riddle. Queenie pointed the Glock 9 she had taken from Detective Blank and filled Me-Me’s body with bullets.

  Chapter 17

  Pop Somethin’ loved the Batmobile more than any material possession he’d ever owned. The Lambo was perfect. Fast, sleek, and powerful. If he could transform into a car, it would be the Lambo. As he drove down Peach Tree, he loved the looks he got from admirers and haters. Things had been going well since he’d come back to Atlanta. Detective Marks fed S.O.D. information steadily, keeping them two steps ahead of the police, and the war with Grind Squad looked to be over since the crew had gone into hiding. For now, the streets belonged solely to S.O.D. Pop’s mil looked close.

  At Ponce de Leon Avenue was a strip club called Kitty’s. After parking the Batmobile, Pop went inside. It didn’t take him long to find who he was looking for. Well, actually, she found him.

  “Hey, baby!” Queenie smiled, jumping off the barstool and running into Pop’s arms.

  “Damn, gurl. You actin’ like I didn’t just see you this mornin’.”

  “Can’t a bitch be happy to see her nigga? Even if you leave for five minutes, I miss you. That’s how you know the love real.”

  Pop chuckled. “Okay. If you say so. Where Princess? Y’all ready to go?”

  “She should be out in a minute. She was bleedin’ these niggas, baby. She just got in the shower. Oh, and Buck Wild here.”

  Pop acted like she didn’t mention the name. “How y’all like it here?”

  “It’s okay. It ain’t nothin’ like we was doin’ in Dallas, but it’s okay. Keeps us outta yo’ way and gives us somethin’ to do. We ain’t complainin’.”

  “I never asked you this before, but what’s the plan when y’all can’t strip no more?”

  “I don’t know. This all we really know. My goal is to get to Jamaica with you, help you with the hotel. That’s the plan, right?”

  “Yeah. Nothin’ changed. I just wanted to know if y’all had a backup plan.”

  “We all in wit’ chu, baby. Nothin’ else matters.”

  “Pop! C’mere!”

  He looked toward the dressing room and seen Princess waving, a panicked look on her face.

  “What up?”

  “Buck Wild in the VIP going crazy. He drunk. Somebody need to calm him down before–”

  A loud crash and raised voices came from the short hallway behind the bar. Pop walked over and seen a security guard laid out on the floor. “Stupid-ass fuck-nigga!” Pop mumbled, walking toward the commotion. The VIP room’s door was split in half. Inside the room Buck Wild was in a wrestling
match with two guards. A stripper was pressed against the wall, watching the melee with wide eyes.

  “Buck! What the fuck you doin’?” Pop called.

  The big man’s head spun slowly toward Pop, a drunken smile on his face. “Help me, dawg! These pussy-niggas think they can fuck in mine. Get one and I’ma whoop this otha nigga!”

  Pop stepped into the room and in the middle of the brawl. “Aye, let him go, y’all! Let him go! I got him. I’ma get him outta here.”

  After a little more struggle, the security guards backed away and went to their fallen comrade.

  “I had they ass, Pop! Niggas can’t fuck in mine!” Buck Wild bragged.

  “A’ight, brah. Let’s get the fuck outta here. You parked outside, right?”

  “Wait, wait, Pop. Hold up. I gotta get my dick sucked first. I gave that bitch fifty for some top. I want my dick sucked.”

  “I’m not touchin’ that nigga dick,” the stripper cut in, still pressed against the wall. She looked terrified, like she had seen a monster.

  “Nah! Fuck dat! I paid for some head. I want my dick sucked!” Buck Wild yelled angrily, making a move toward the frightened dancer.

  Pop grabbed his arm. “Chill, nigga. Let’s go ‘fore they call twelve. That shit light. Just find anotha bitch.”

  “I tried to give him the money back,” the woman said. “It’s on the floor.”

  Pop looked down and seen the green bill near the table. “Keep it.” Then he turned to Buck. “I’ma find you a bad bitch. C’mon so we won’t have to bag nobody.”

  After a little more effort, Pop was able to coax the drunken goon outside. He was in no condition to drive, so Pop led him to the Batmobile and gave Queenie the keys to Buck Wild’s Benz.

  “When you gon’ let me fuck Queenie in her fat ass?” Buck slurred.

  “Never. You can’t handle my bitches, nigga.”

  “Psh! I’ll handle them hos better than you can!”

  Pop laughed. “You can’t do nothin’ betta than me except act a fool, nigga.”