by Styles, T.
“Nine hundred dollars for the lady.” The stickman tapped his stick in front of Silk.
The dealer closest to her grabbed hold of a stack of black chips, made two piles consisting of four and five, then re-stacked them and slid them over to Silk.
“That goes to him.” Silk refused, pushing the stack of chips back to Big Sheed.
“Nah, that’s yours, baby,” Big Sheed replied.
“Just take the money, please,” Silk insisted.
Big Sheed did not press the issue; instead, he snatched up the nine hundred dollars in chips.
After the pit boss, stickman, and dealer all tallied up the payout for Big Sheed’s bet, the stickman banged the stick in front of Big Sheed, while the pit boss began to slide different color stacks of chips over to the dealer. The dealer began paying Big Sheed his winnings for the hard six and then announced loudly, “Hard six money—thirteen thousand five hundred.”
A thunderous clap by an appreciative and congratulatory gambler followed.
Orange chips valued at a thousand dollars each, along with purple and black, were pushed in Big Sheed’s direction. He smoothly picked them up and placed them in the now filled chip holder section in front of him.
“Thank you for the bet.” One of the dealers nodded to Big Sheed, pleased by the nine hundred dollars the hard six paid out for him and his colleagues.
“Dice out,” the stickman called. “No more bets,” he added as Big Sheed grabbed up the dice again.
Big Sheed tossed the dice onto the table. As the dice were released, something didn’t feel right to him. He felt the roll was not his normal throw. As one dice stopped short of the back wall, the other dice hid itself behind a stack of chips again. Instantly, the dealer on the opposite side of the table confirmed what Big Sheed had already felt.
“Seven out!” he called out.
“Aggh.” The betters gathered around the table all made a sound of disappointment as the dealers began raking in thousands of dollars of chips on the craps table.
“Helluva roll,” an elderly Caucasian man announced before clapping. His comment was matched by others who joined him in applause. Even the table dealers, stickman, and pit boss clapped for the twenty-minute rolling spree Big Sheed had displayed at the table.
The stickman poured the bowl of dice onto the table and pushed them over to the next shooter. Just as Big Sheed was about to place a bet, Silk leaned in and whispered in his ear, “You promised me we’d go to the 40/40 and then work on round two.” She licked his inner earlobe with her tongue, then planted a light kiss on the outer one before backing away.
Big Sheed’s manhood stiffened. He knew if he moved right now, everyone with eyes would see all that he was working with poking through his linen pants.
“Color me up,” Big Sheed announced, placing all of his chips on the table. He knew it was best to quit while he was ahead, especially since he knew he was capable of losing it all.
Besides, after all the excitement and hard work on the dice, he felt he deserved to have some fun. He was already nice from the six double shots of Rémy and three Coronas he’d had, so he knew once he and Silk went to the 40/40 Club and grabbed a bottle, he’d be ready to give her a strong second round off the cognac dick.
“Sixty-eight thousand, five hundred seventy-five.” The pit boss informed Big Sheed of the winning.
You could hear the murmur and comments from the admirers as Big Sheed confiscated the stack from the table, consisting of grey five thousand–dollar chips.
“For the dealers.” Big Sheed tipped the table two hundred seventy-five dollars before he and Silk exited the table.
After cashing out at the cashier window and refusing a security escort, Big Sheed made his way to his hotel suite with Silk in tow. Silk wrapped her arms around Big Sheed’s waist and rested her head on his massive chest. Between the shot of Grey Goose and cranberry, which was her third, and the time she stood watching Big Sheed gamble, she was somewhat drained.
Sensing it, Big Sheed said, “I’ma just drop this paper off up in the room and then we out, unless you wanna stay in,” he asked Silk while waiting for the elevator.
“No, I’m okay.” She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. “I still want to go.”
“Okay.” He paused. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he complimented, kissing Silk on the forehead.
Silk blushed. “You’re not too bad yourself.”
“You’re funny.” He laughed. He knew he wasn’t the most handsome brother, but felt he compensated in other ways like personality, finances, and most importantly—in the bedroom. Silk sat on the living room sofa while Big Sheed gathered the ten thousand stacks of money on the table. Once he was done, he turned and walked over to her with a stack of bills in hand. “Here, put this in your pocket,” he said, handing Silk ten hundred dollar bills he counted out from the stack.
“Nah, I’m good, baby,” she declined politely.
“I didn’t ask if you were you good. I said take this. You’re always good when you’re with me, love,” he insisted. “Besides, you won this.” He reminded her of the hard six money she refused.
Silk smiled. She knew they’d be there going back and forth and never make it to the club if she didn’t accept the money. She took the thousand dollars from Big Sheed and placed it in her clutch.
“Now let’s go party.” Big Sheed extended his hand.
The summer eve’s cool breeze instantly hugged Big Sheed’s linen attire and Silk’s sundress as they exited the escalator and made their way out the front entrance of Bally’s Casino, heading for Jay-Z’s hot spot.
“Taxi, sir?” the man with a Middle Eastern accent boomed from out of the partially rolled down window of the yellow taxicab parked in front of the casino.
“Thanks, Habeebee, but we good,” Big Sheed declined, adding a little mocking to his reply.
Silk nudged him in the side and smiled. “Baby, don’t do that. That’s disrespectful,” she said disapprovingly.
Big Sheed knew she was right. Normally he wouldn’t have made fun of the man, but the liquor had him in a humorous mood.
“You’re right, love,” he said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Thank you.” She smiled even though she could see he was trying not to laugh.
“The least we could do is patronize him,” she continued, “since you were mean to him.”
Big Sheed shook his head and revealed a slight grin. He had no objection to what he assumed Silk meant. He stuck his hand in his linen pants pocket to retrieve a peace offering, only to be stopped.
“I meant let him take us to the club, silly.” She chuckled.
“I think you had too much to drink,” Silk concluded.
“Nah, I’m good, ma,” Big Sheed shot back in his smoothest tone.
“If you say so, daddy.” Silk took him by the hand and guided him to the taxi and opened the backdoor. Big Sheed willfully climbed in as she followed.
“Where to?” the taxi driver asked.
“The 40/40 Club, Hab—” Big Sheed caught himself. He could feel Silk’s eyes on him.
“You know where that is?” Big Sheed asked, trying to be more serious.
“Yes, sir,” the taxi driver answered.
“Where you from, my dude?” Big Sheed questioned, making small talk.
“Pakistan, sir.”
“That’s what’s up. Are you Muslim?”
“Yes, I am,” was the taxi driver response.
“Salami as salaikum,” Big Sheed slurred, trying to offer the greeting of peace to the taxi driver in his best Arabic impersonation; although he himself was not Muslim. The taxi driver did not respond. Instead, he turned up his radio, which was playing music in Arabic, and drove the taxi.
“Baby, leave him alone and let him drive,” Silk spoke up. “You’re distracting him.”
“I’m not messing with him. How am I distracting him?” Big Sheed wanted to know.
“The same way I’ma distract you,” Silk replied,
sliding her hand between Big Sheed’s inner thighs. Big Sheed could see the devilish look in her eyes. The sight aroused him. His dick instantly began to throb as she caressed him through his linen pants.
“Ma, you wildin’,” Sheed whispered, getting turned on more each second. Big Sheed’s eyes shifted back and forth from the front seat of the taxi to Silk, as she unzipped his linen pants and stroked him with her petite hand.
“Damn, love, that shit feels good,” he moaned.
Silk looked at him and smiled. “You like that?” she cooed.
“Yeah, definitely.” He matched her tone.
“Well then, you’re gonna love this.”
All in one motion Silk pulled Big Sheed’s dick out and wrapped her lips around him. Big Sheed was caught completely by surprise and off guard. He was, without a doubt, down for some freaky shit when it came to his sexual preference, but he had never been in a situation like the one he was in now. His eyes shifted back to the taxi driver, who seemed to not be paying any mind as to what was taking place in the backseat of his vehicle. All Big Sheed could see was the back of the taxi driver’s kufi swaying to the foreign sounds coming from the car’s stereo system.
As Silk took him deeper into her mouth Big Sheed couldn’t help but savor the moment. He placed his hand on top of her head and threw his own head back, enjoying the ride. By now, Silk had his linen pants unfastened and belt unbuckled, fully exposing his sexual jewel. He could feel himself building up with each lick, suck, and slurp Silk performed in her dick assault.
“Yeah, right there,” Big Sheed hissed, not caring if the taxi driver was watching or not.
Between the alcohol and the oral pleasure Silk was providing him, Big Sheed’s head was spinning like a Ferris wheel. He was, in fact, so engrossed in what was taking place that he had lost track of time, which is why he didn’t realize he and Silk had been traveling in the taxi longer than it would usually take to reach their destination.
It wasn’t until the music had lowered, the taxi had come to a sudden stop, and he heard a man’s voice that Big Sheed’s eyes popped open. His eyes grew wider when he saw what stared back at him. Although his vision was slightly blurry from the alcohol and his eyes being closed for a lengthy period of time, there was no mistaking the sight of the silencer’s barrel of the gun pointing in his face. A look of confusion appeared across Big Sheed’s face, and it became evident that he had literally been caught with his pants down.
“I said, ‘Are you enjoying yourself?’” the taxi driver repeated.
By now, Silk was sitting upright and sat back next to Big Sheed.
“What the fuck is this shit?” Big Sheed blurted out, not wanting to believe the obvious. His outburst caused him to receive a wakeup call. Big Sheed screamed in agony as the bullet from the silencer-equipped weapon tore into his kneecap and shattered the bone separating the connecting joints.
“The next one will separate your soul from your body if you don’t be quiet,” the taxi driver warned.
“Fuck you, you big-beard bin-Laden terrorist mutha-fucka,” Big Sheed cursed.
“Nooo!” Silk cried out just before the taxi driver was able to pull the trigger. Her cry caused him to pause.
“Please, what do you want?” Silk asked.
Before the taxi driver could answer, Big Sheed interjected. “Fuck that. I’m not—aagh!” His words were interrupted by a bullet to the right shoulder.
“It’s because of the lady you are still alive,” the taxi driver informed Big Sheed after delivering the second shot.
“Sheed, be quiet—please!” Silk begged.
“Yes, Sheed, if you want the both of you to make it out of here alive, you will listen to her,” the taxi driver retorted.
The pain the two shots inflicted on Big Sheed was enough to sober him up. Under the influence, he had been known for making irrational and egotistical decisions, but when he was sober, he was a rational individual. The last thing he wanted was to die in the back of a taxicab with his pants down and his dick out over what he believed to be a few dollars. Furthermore, he felt that Silk did not deserve to go out like that either, especially when she didn’t have anything to do with it.
Big Sheed weighed the pros and cons of the present situation and made a decision.
“What the fuck do you want?” he barked.
“Everything!” the taxi driver shouted. “My allies have been following you. We have been watching you, Rasheed Phillups, son of Nancy Bowers and Shawn Phillups, father of Rasheed Phillups, Jr.”
The mention of his parents and child sent a fearful chill down Rasheed’s spine. Other than himself, those were the only people in the world Rasheed loved. The fact that they knew his loved ones existed made Rasheed vulnerable. Big Sheed took a deep breath then sighed. He knew all the money he possessed was replaceable, but his family wasn’t. He knew it was best not to play with the man behind the gun.
“I only got about ten Gs on me, but another fifty-something back at the hotel.” He paused for a brief second. “And I got one hundred and fifty more in the trunk of my car,” he added.
“Give me your hotel key and room number and do it slowly or I kill the girl,” the taxi driver stated. Big Sheed did as he was told.
It had been a long time since he had been robbed at gunpoint, or any way, for that matter. The last time someone made the fatal mistake of choosing him as their potential come-up, they found themselves slumped and dumped in the Weequahic Park Lake out in Newark where they were from. It only cost him five thousand dollars after putting the word out to find the culprits, but Big Sheed knew it would take far more than that to find out who was behind this one. He was already envisioning going broke to seek revenge on the taxi driver and whoever else was behind this robbery.
“Suite thirty-seven forty-three,” Big Sheed told him, handing him the room key.
“Very good. Now, what is the combination to the safe?” the taxi driver asked.
“Safe?” Confused, Big Sheed replied, “I don’t have no money in the room safe. That’s everything,” he added.
For the first time, the Pakistani taxi driver chuckled. His laugh was sinister.
“Please do not play on my intelligence,” the taxi driver then snapped, revealing a second silencer weapon through the open window. “I’m going to ask you one more time and one time only, and then I will kill the girl. Then you, then your son, and father, and save your mother for last after my associates and I rape her repeatedly. Now! What is the combination to your wall safe at ten twenty-seven Gresham Road in Plainfield?”
If he wasn’t convinced before, he was now. He was dealing with some professionals. He wondered if it had anything to do with his connect. He knew how the Colombian cartel got down and thought he may have been targeted for his connection with one of the drug families. Either way, he knew it was in his best interest to comply.
“Zero-three, zero-seven, zero-eight,” he chanted through clenched teeth.
Big Sheed grilled the taxi driver as he gave him a rock hard stare. The more he looked at him, the more the taxi driver’s eyes seemed familiar. His thoughts were immediately interrupted by the bullets that exited the chamber of the taxi driver’s gun and slammed into his skull. His hard stare was instantly replaced with a blank one.
Silk sat there motionless. The taxi driver drew both weapons on her.
“As for you, my sweet African American queen, I would like for you to do to me what you were just doing to your ex-lover,” the taxi driver requested.
Silk continued to sit there a few seconds longer.
“Get those fuckin’ things outta my face,” she spat with venom. “And stop talkin’ to me with that stupid-ass accent,” she added with attitude. “I told you I hate how you sound when you be talkin’ like that.”
The taxi driver laughed. “Come on, babe. I had to make it sound good or the nigga would’ve caught on,” he said in his own defense as he peeled off the fake beard he wore. “Tell me I didn’t sound like Manny and ’em at Hubb
lee Bubblee and Red Tower.”
That drew a laugh from Silk. “Yeah, you did. I didn’t think I was gonna be able to keep my composure. You were good, baby.” Silk praised her partner in crime.
“All them years in the feds around my Arabic-speaking Muslim brothers rubbed off on me.”
“I see. I think that’s the best I’ve ever seen you. Denzel ain’t got nothin’ on you,” she joked.
“How about you, Halle Berry? Talkin’ about, ‘Nooo, Sheed, be quiet, please.’ And earlier where the nigga called me Habeebee, you like, ‘Baby, don’t do that. That’s disrespectful,’” he mocked as he broke into laughter.
“Shut up, boy.” She smiled.
“Didn’t I tell you, though, babe? I knew the nigga had it,” her partner said, amped. “And I can tell by the expression on your face when he said it that you didn’t know he had paper in the whip.”
“I’m not even going to lie. I didn’t,” Silk confessed.
“I can imagine what he got in that safe. We gotta get back to the Field and up in that piece.”
“Yeah, but right now we gotta get up out of here and up in that hotel room,” Silk stated matter-of-factly.
“No doubt. Let me throw this nigga in the trunk with the taxi driver first and then we out.”
Chapter 2
As usual, Atlantic City was operating on full throttle. Even at the wee hours of 2:15 A.M. the flow of traffic on Pennsylvania Avenue was heavy. Despite having two dead bodies in the trunk of the taxi he had car-jacked, Jaheem Gamble aka Smooth sat cool, calm, and collected just a block up from the Bally’s Casino—or so it appeared on the surface. On the inside, his patience was wearing thin as he waited for his partner Silk to return with the fruit of their previous labor, realizing that nearly twenty minutes had passed since she had gone in the casino.
