by Erica Hilton
Chanel was excited. It was a life changing event for her, and she felt that nothing could ruin her moment—her high.
Mecca secretly had her eyes on Pyro. She was hoping that Mateo’s right-hand man would sweep her off her feet like Mateo had done Chanel.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Charlie waited anxiously in the parking lot of Rikers Island jail complex and watched the traffic come and go across the bridge that stretched toward the correctional facility. It was a gray day with light drizzle, but no matter how colorless the day was, Charlie was grateful and excited. God and Fingers had finally made bail and were being released. She missed her man deeply, and the first thing she wanted to do was lock herself in her bedroom with him and have sex for hours.
Dressed in a blue parka and her beige Timberland boots, Charlie smoked a cigarette and kept her eyes fixed on every bus that came to a stop near the parking lot. She watched every passenger getting on or off the bus. Still, no God or Fingers.
She needed her man back in her life, especially with her sister Chanel getting married in three weeks. Charlie needed the money and she needed the excitement again. It had been nearly nine months since God had been locked up, and longer since they had hit a lick.
Another bus coming from Rikers Island crossed over the bridge and came to a squealing stop at the bus stop parallel to the parking lot. The doors opened and Charlie fixed her eyes on the bus as she had with every bus before it. Finally, she spotted God and Fingers exiting the bus. Charlie couldn’t control herself. She immediately ran their way, ready to attack her man with an aggressive and loving hug and plenty of kisses.
“It’s good to see you outside them walls again, baby,” God said.
Charlie wanted to fuck him right there in public, but she had to put her sexual feelings on hold and simply hug and kiss her man. She hugged Fingers too. The team was back together again.
That night, God received a lukewarm welcome home from Butch and Bacardi. They used to fall all over him with gratitude and hospitality, and now they acted like he was a virus they didn’t want to catch. God wanted to know what that was about, and Charlie explained that her mother and father were now sweating Chanel’s man, Mateo. He’d been giving the family money and gifts and winning her parents over with his street wealth. God didn’t like it. Being down and out inside Rikers for nearly nine months was too long, and everything done changed.
“Don’t worry, baby. My heart still beats only for you and that will never change,” Charlie said.
She locked the bedroom door to make sure they wouldn’t be disturbed. She wanted to give her man a proper welcome home gift—a night that he would always remember. God nearly did a bullet inside of Rikers Island with no pussy and no oral sex, and his manhood was ready to pick up where they’d left off.
Charlie unzipped his jeans, kneeled in front of him, and took his hard dick in her mouth and gave him a blowjob that nearly knocked him dead. God felt himself being thrust into paradise from her deep throat swallowing him whole. The way she cupped his balls and jerked his big dick was divine.
From oral sex, God undressed completely and took her from behind—doggy-style. He rammed inside her like a jackhammer trying to crack concrete. Charlie liked it rough with her man. She wasn’t fragile. She wanted her man to smack her ass, pull her hair, and beat her pussy up like it had stolen from him. Her pants and moans echoed from the bedroom throughout the apartment.
They switched from doggy-style, to missionary, to Charlie riding his dick like she was trying to win a race. The sex was phenomenal. The months he’d spent inside had her man going animalistic on her, and she loved every moment of it.
“Fuck me, nigga!” she hollered.
They came like two planets colliding with Charlie’s legs quivering from the aftermath of her intense orgasm. She collapsed against God’s bare chest with him nestling her into his arms.
“Baby, I missed you so much,” she said.
God didn’t respond. He stared up aimlessly at the ceiling and appeared to be thinking about something.
“What you thinkin’ about, baby?” she asked.
With his eyes still on the ceiling, he said, “Who this nigga your sister started fuckin’ with?”
Charlie didn’t want to talk about Chanel. She wanted to relish this moment and go a few more rounds with her man in the bed.
“I don’t know, some clown-ass Spanish nigga from the Bronx.”
“So your little sister done came up, huh?”
“Fuck that little bitch. I don’t wanna talk about her, God. Tonight, it’s only about you and me, remember?”
She removed herself from his arms and slowly straddled him again, feeling his big dick penetrate her. They moaned and started to fuck again.
An hour later, God was sound asleep. It had been a long day for him and lying on a soft mattress in a quiet room was like paradise.
Charlie sat by the window and smoked a cigarette. The light rain from earlier had subsided and it was now a warm, spring night. The activity outside her window was bustling with local folks enjoying the night with gossip and chitchat, some card playing, and laughter. The spring weather brought about movement from everyone. Foot traffic, fiends, dealers, police, and even stray dogs were seen wandering on the block.
Charlie soon fixed her eyes on the Range Rover Sport that was parking across the street. It was a spectacular looking vehicle that stood out on the block. Charlie knew who the vehicle belonged to. Seeing it move and park, she envied the driver inside.
The driver’s door opened and Chanel climbed out of the stylish SUV. She looked like a million bucks in her new designer black dress with lace and feathers, and her hair was long and sensuous. The worst part about it for Charlie was the giant engagement ring on her sister’s finger. Chanel looked like a brand new bitch, and Charlie hated it. She hated her.
Frowning and drowning in jealousy, Charlie angrily flicked her cigarette out the window and turned away. She couldn’t take it anymore. Her little sister had found happiness and some wealth, while she was putting her life back together, trying to fit the pieces in a puzzle that she felt no longer mattered.
It wasn’t fair. Charlie felt she should be the one driving a Range Sport and looking like she had just come from a shopping spree. The one good thing about her life at the moment was that God was back in it.
***
Charlie hadn’t seen God in days. The other day he abruptly left the apartment without informing Charlie of his whereabouts. Four days later, God came back to the apartment with his Rolex watch and mink coat, though it was spring and he had no use for it.
Charlie was stunned to see God with a few of his goodies again. Where were they? Who had them? And where the fuck did he go for four days? Charlie was irritated that he still had his stuff, while she had to pawn everything nice she had, dance in clubs, and perform sexual acts just to pay his bail.
The tension between Charlie and God was palpable inside the apartment, but Butch and Bacardi minded their business. Bacardi no longer cared about the condition of their relationship. When Charlie argued with him about being gone for days, God griped that he was sick and tired of how everyone was dick-riding and obsessed with Chanel’s new man. He’d never met Mateo, but immediately God didn’t like him.
God also couldn’t keep his eyes off of young Chanel. She was growing into a beautiful and mature young woman. He would slyly watch her around the apartment, admiring how she had her hair blown out—no more long braids or kiddy pigtails. He peeped the diamond earrings she sported and the diamond engagement ring that sparkled brightly. God had to admit to himself that Charlie’s little sister was looking right. There were even a handful of times when he would come out of the shower and be tempted to drop his towel in front of Chanel to show her what he was working with.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I want you out of that place, baby. I don’t
want you staying there anymore,” Mateo griped.
“So you want me to move in with you?” Chanel asked.
“Yes. As long as that nigga your sister is with is living there, I don’t want you in that apartment.”
Chanel was flattered—happy. Mateo was protective of her. The moment he found out that God was back in the apartment, he wanted his fiancée out of there—even if he had to come and move her out himself. He didn’t trust God or her family.
The next day, Mateo showed up with Chanel at the apartment to help her pack her things and leave that hellish place she used to call home for good, while Pyro waited for them in the SUV. Mateo wanted Chanel to bounce up out of there and never look back.
In a few weeks, they were going to fly to Hawaii and Chanel was going to be his bride. Her family wasn’t invited. They didn’t even know about the wedding. Mateo wasn’t about to pay for their trip or their expenses so they could ruin what was going to be the best day of their lives, especially Chanel’s. So they both felt that it was best to keep everything a secret. They saw the ring and knew about the engagement, but Chanel refused to tell any of her family members that Mateo was going to fly her to Hawaii to marry her on her birthday.
They entered the apartment to find that it was a full house. Butch was sleeping on the couch, Bacardi and Claire were in the kitchen, and Charlie was in her bedroom with God.
Seeing Mateo walk through the front door, Bacardi instantly became excited. It was always good to see her new son. Her home was his home. But Mateo wasn’t there to give out cash or gifts, and he clearly made it known to them.
“She has something to tell you,” said Mateo.
“Oh? What’s going on, Chanel?” Bacardi asked. “Is everything okay?”
Chanel glanced back at her man. He was her confidant and her protector. Chanel felt safe with Mateo standing behind her. She knew he was going to back her up.
She took a deep breath. All eyes were on her in anticipation.
Charlie came out of the bedroom and saw Chanel looking fly in her stylish pants and back-zipper crop top that showed off her slim waist. Then she eyed Chanel’s red bottoms and the glimmering accessories, including a tennis bracelet, necklace, and her diamond engagement ring. Mateo had his woman looking like a diva, and Charlie swelled with envy.
“I’m moving out,” Chanel said to everyone.
Bacardi’s mouth dropped open. “Moving out?”
“Yes.”
“Chanel, this is your home, and we love you,” said Bacardi.
Chanel had nothing to say to her mother. They never loved her. The only thing Bacardi and everyone else loved was what she or her man could do for them. As long as there was money and nice things, Bacardi became a caring, loving parent.
“You moving in wit’ that nigga?” Charlie chimed.
“Yes.”
“More room in here for us. Have a great fuckin’ life,” Charlie added sarcastically.
“I just came to pack up my things and leave,” Chanel said.
Claire was silent. She didn’t care if her sister stayed or left. She had her own issues to deal with. It was Bacardi and Charlie that were making the most noise about the situation.
“So, what about us, Chanel? You wanna leave and forget about family?” Bacardi asked with some disdain in her voice.
“What about you, Ma?”
“I just want you to be well taken care of.”
Mateo finally intervened. “My woman is always going to be well taken care of. I’m gonna make sure she has everything she needs until the end of time. And that, I promise.”
Chanel smiled.
Bacardi looked at Mateo and had the audacity to ask, “And what about her parents? Are you gonna take care of us too? Don’t forget about us.” She didn’t want her cash cow to cash out.
Mateo had to chuckle at that bitch’s ridiculous comment. Was she serious? He wasn’t there to take care of her family, only his woman. He was tired of everyone taking advantage of Chanel and him, particularly after knowing about the abuse and mistreatment Chanel had endured.
“You need to get a job, Ma,” Chanel said.
Bacardi didn’t want to hear that, especially from her youngest. She had a job, but they fired her, and over time, she’d become lazy. She believed that her kids should be now taking care of her since she had taken care of them.
God emerged from the bedroom and came into the living room wearing a pair of boxer shorts—indecent attire with women in the home. But he didn’t care.
“Hey Chanel,” he greeted her with a smirk.
Chanel didn’t acknowledge him. She kept silent. He always made her uneasy and uncomfortable.
God and Mateo locked eyes, and it was clear that these two men didn’t like each other. Mateo held his hard stare against God, knowing his type—a grimy nigga, a user.
God continued to smirk and finally acknowledged Mateo, saying, “So, you the new nigga in her life, huh?”
“I’m the only nigga,” Mateo corrected.
Chanel went to the bedroom to pack her things. She couldn’t wait to finally be free of the place. Mateo stayed in the living room to hold things down and to size God up. God did the same thing. He coolly eyed the jewelry on Mateo, the clothing, the style. God knew the nigga was a definite payday for him if he ever got the chance to go after him. The sight of Mateo’s money and shine was making his dick hard.
“So, where you from?” God asked him.
“Around,” Mateo uttered with a frosty response.
God chuckled. “I was just tryin’ to make conversation, that’s all. No need to get all emotional.”
Mateo wasn’t about to let this nigga bring him out of character, unless he didn’t have a choice. He was simply there to help his fiancée move her stuff out of the house.
“Anyway, y’all be safe out there, ya feel me? It’s a treacherous world out there . . . too many grimy niggas tryin’ to come get what you got wherever you turn,” said God.
“We good.”
The unlocked front door opened with authority and Pyro was standing on the other side. He needed to check on his man and make sure that things were moving along without incident. Pyro’s eyes scanned his surroundings before settling on a dusty looking nigga. God gave him a chilly glare before Mateo spoke up. “We’ll be down in a minute, Pyro.”
Pyro nodded. As he backpedaled out the front door, he smirked at God.
God was unfazed as he pivoted and went back into the bedroom, and Charlie followed behind him and shut the door.
It didn’t take long for Chanel to pack her things. She soon emerged from the bedroom with a rolling suitcase, which Mateo helped her with. Bacardi was sad to see her go. Chanel moving out definitely meant that Mateo would stop coming around.
“Bye!” Chanel uttered coldly.
Bacardi sighed.
Mateo decided to leave them with a final parting gift. He reached into his pocket and removed a large wad of cash. It looked like if he threw it at the wall, it probably would leave a gaping hole.
Bacardi’s eyes lit up. She watched Mateo peel away a few bills and hand them to her. She didn’t hesitate to take it. In fact, she snatched it away so quickly, that she nearly took off his hand. It was five hundred dollars.
“Thank you, Mateo,” she said.
He didn’t say anything else. He and Chanel left the apartment expecting to never return. Chanel was ready to get married and live her life with Mateo, hopefully in absolute bliss.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mateo and Pyro sat in the early morning real estate and investment class in the financial district, and they were taking notes. They sat at the front of the room and were focused on the lecture coming from one of the top investors in the city. Mateo and Pyro looked more like eager young men ready to plant their feet into real estate and investment deals than drug de
alers. They were trying to make legitimate moves with their lives, including caring about their credit scores so they could get loans, investing in properties, and using most of their illegal gains as down payments on prime real estate and legit cash making businesses.
After the two-hour class, the men left the room to continue their day of conducting business.
First, they went to a shooting range in Long Island to put in some target practice. Mateo and Pyro were always in friendly competition of each other, and they were both good shooters.
Mateo aimed at center mass with the Glock 17 in his hands and squeezed off several shots at the target, which was about 10 meters away. Pyro was in the booth nearby, and the two let off some steam by putting holes into the hanging silhouettes. When they were both done, they retracted the silhouettes to see their results.
“Look at that shit—center mass and four headshots. You ain’t fuckin’ with me, Mateo,” Pyro teased.
Mateo compared his target to Pyro’s, and Pyro was definitely the sharpshooter of the two.
“You got lucky,” Mateo joked.
“Nigga, luck ain’t got anything to do with skills.”
Mateo laughed. “Let’s go again.”
“You know you can’t win in this,” said Pyro.
“We’ll see.”
Both men replaced the target silhouettes and went for 20 meters down the line of sight. Once again, Pyro was the better shot. Mateo ultimately had to give him his props.
After target practice, they went to one of their favorite diners in Valley Stream for a hearty meal and conversation. Seated in a window booth with a view of the park across the street, they were like two old men talking about business over their afternoon coffee and lunch.
