by SLMN
He let his words settle in before continuing.
“I like you, youngblood, I really fuckin’ do. That’s why you ain’t dead now. It’s why I’m giving you an opportunity. Be the man powerful enough to take this shot from another kid with big dreams. Trust me, and I’m going to make you so powerful no one will be able to take another shot from you ever again. But every man needs to make his own choice, so if you ain’t interested,” Frank reached into his inside pocket and pulled a baggie of heroin, then tossed it onto Joe’s lap, “then go find you a vein and blow your own brains out.”
Joe looked down at the baggie.
He picked it up.
Part of him damn near sang out with joy at the sight of it, wanting that taste of ultimate life right before death, but that was the part of him he’d left behind. The better part of him, the stronger part of him, still wanted to look this world in the eyes and impose his will on it. He tossed the baggie out the window.
“I’m listening.”
Frank smiled approvingly. “Good. You gonna be alright. But first, I gotta know if I can trust you. So, serious question: you ever killed somebody before?”
“No.”
“Can you?”
“If I had to.”
“What if you just want to,” Frank smirked, “Or, more accurately, because I want you to? You see, I’ve got a problem, a problem I need you to solve. There’s a guy, a bar owner. He owes me some money… actually a lot of money. The kind of money only blood can pay back. He thinks he doesn’t have to pay. He’s not very bright. Now, I could handle this myself, but I would appreciate if you do this little thing for me. Believe me, appreciation from a man like me will go a long way.”
“Who is he?”
“Who is he?”
Joe woke up with a start; those three words still echoing in his head.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Aphrodite questioned, sitting up beside him. She ran her hand across his chest, like her touch could ease his tormented soul. There was no magic in her hands, not this kind of magic, at least.
“I… know who he is.”
“Who is?”
“Othello.” Joe looked at her, but he wasn’t seeing her. He was still face to face with the past. “I killed his father.”
Othello laid back, propped up against his headboard, reading a book by the light of the rising sun. Milk walked by, half asleep as she headed for the bathroom.
She walked by his open door and saw he was already up.
“Reading early in the morning? What are you, a towel head?” She asked.
He looked up to see her standing there, still butt ass naked, with curves so dangerous they should have warning signs.
“Naw, just a habit I picked up in prison. Good way to start any day.”
She sauntered in and sat on the edge of the bed, one leg tucked under her.
She read the title.
“The Art of War? What is that, an urban novel?” She questioned, sounding every bit like a dumb blond from the ghetto.
Othello looked at her. He could have been a bastard, instead he replied patiently, “It’s my Book of Life. It teaches you how to defeat your enemies.”
“Oh,” she responded, then cocked her head to the side, as though regarding him in a new light. “You’re different. I’ve never known gangstas that read. Hell, most gangstas don’t even get up this early.”
He laughed.
“Most gangstas ain’t gangstas.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Her face got serious for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you let us come with y’all? I mean, you gave us that money and brought us back to your spot, knowing what you did. Why?”
Othello put the book down and met her gaze.
“Because real recognize real and I respect realness. Y’all bitches held it down like real bitches should, so you were due a reward. The party part, that wasn’t my idea if you remember, but I let you come anyway because of what I just said.”
Milk nodded.
“You know, you’re like a breath of fresh air. All these so-called players and hustlers out here, a bitch would be a fool not to fuck with realness when she saw it, too.”
“It’s like Sun Tzu says in this book: know yourself. If you know yourself and you know the enemy, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles. But if you only know yourself and not the enemy...”
“For every victory gained, you will suffer a defeat,” Milk said, finishing the quote word for word, then smiled knowingly.
Othello barked out a deep laugh.
“Damn Ma! You fucked me up with that!”
Milk shrugged. “Most men don’t want a smart bitch in their bed.”
“But yet they want brains, huh?”
They laughed at the irony.
“I’m more than meets the eye.”
Othello looked her up and down, his eyes fixated on the camel toe sticking out between her legs like a pout. “That you are. Shit, it’s hard for a nigga to get past the eye, yo.”
“A smart woman is a dangerous woman,” she remarked.
“And just the type of woman I need on my team,” he added.
She bit her bottom lip, then ran her fingers up his shin. “Is that all you need?”
She was right on time for that morning hard dick and she knew it.
Othello peeped her game from the minute she made her advance. She knew he was the leader of a crew destined for the top, and she wanted to hitch a ride. That was just fine with him. A white bitch can slide into places a black bitch can’t. Plain and simple. So if she wanted to seal the deal with a mouthful of his dick, then he didn’t mind giving her what she wanted.
Milk didn’t hesitate once she saw the bulge growing in his boxers.
She reached in through the slit and pulled his dick out, massaging it from balls to head with skillful fingers, before running her tongue along the ridge of his dickhead.
“Damn your dick is sweet. You must drink a lot of pineapple juice,” she remarked between slurps.
“Call me black fruit punch,” he cracked.
She took his whole dick in her mouth, while she popped her own pussy with two fingers. The more she fucked herself, the sloppier she topped him off.
Othello grabbed a handful of her hair and face fucked her until he felt like he was about to cum.
When he did, he pulled out at the last minute and covered her face in his nut. Busting off in her face made her cum hard as hell. It was a beautiful moment.
Othello ran his dick around her mouth and smirked as he remarked, “Welcome to the team.”
Adonis got out of his blue Bentley drop-top Continental, looking GQ in his Balman outfit. He had his favorite burgundy butter leather jacket on, and, doing this whole David Caruso thing, threw on his reflector Aviator shades as he looked around the street before he crossed to the cafe.
It was a quaint little spot, two cities away, well outside of the Commission’s territory. A safe place for what was going to be a dangerous liaison. The cafe itself had sidewalk seating, and more interestingly, a terrace on the second floor that provided additional outside ambiance.
Devante was waiting for him up there.
As soon as he came into view, the other man’s face broke into a flirtatious, come here and fuck me grin. Looking at Devante, there was no doubting who was the bottom in their little fuck game. The boy was just naturally feminine, as if God himself had willed this perfect androgyny. His cinnamon brown skin and piercing green eyes gave him a feline feel that was reminiscent of a more feminine Bruno Mars.
Devante stood, leaning in to give Adonis a hug, but Adonis extended his hand for a shake and a half gangsta hug instead. Pure masculinity. The machismo of the greeting was mocked by Devante’s fevered whisper in his ear as they embraced.
“I smell it on you… that cologne… you know it drives me wild. Damn I just wanna fuck you… right here, right now.” Adonis chuckled self-consciously as he sat dow
n.
“Yo chill, aiight?” He looked around, scoping out the place.
“My bad, I forgot we’re gangstas, yo,” Devante said, using an exaggerated street accent to make his point.
Adonis sighed. “Don’t start.”
“We’re already running halfway across the state just to have fucking lunch, and you still wanna be on this homo-thug shit? Man, I am tired.”
Adonis began to say something, but the waitress’s arrival silenced him.
She was a good looking red-headed white girl. Her smile spread all over Adonis. He was used to the reaction. These pretty little things had their own code, but it always broke down to the same thing: he could get it.
“Whatever you want is on the house,” she told him, acting like Devante wasn’t there.
Devante wasn’t gonna let it go. “Bitch breeze, that’s my dick.”
The waitress turned redder than her hair. “Oh my God, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry,” she said, then looking at Adonis one last time said, “Still, lucky you.”
She took their order.
“Really?” Adonis remarked, cranked up.
“Really?” Devante echoed, but laced with deeper frustration. “You’re just gonna flirt with some woman right in my face? And fuck me, look at your hand, you’ve got your fucking engagement ring on. You know what, fuck this shit,” Devante got up from the table.
Adonis grabbed his wrist. “Please. Don’t go.”
Devante was crying. The tears ran down his cheek.
“No Adonis, this shit is crazy. You’re not going to keep treating me like this. I’m not gonna let you.”
“I’m sorry.”
A beat.
“I am.”
Devante folded his arms over his chest. He made no move to wipe the tears from his cheek.
“Take it off.”
“What?”
“The ring. I’m not sitting back down until you take it off.”
Adonis looked at him, seeing his resolve. Not wanting to make more of a scene, he took the ring off and slipped it in his pocket.
Devante sat down, smiling triumphantly.
Adonis chuckled.
“You’re such a queen.”
“And don’t pretend you don’t love it. It serves you right anyway. That ring is like waving red in front of a bull.”
“It’s just a ring. Means nothing to me. She means nothing to me. But my family.”
“Your family? What about my family?! Uncle Malik thinks he’s the gangsta Bin Laden. If he knew I was gay, he’d probably kill me himself.”
The waitress returned with their orders and more heartfelt apologies before she bustled off and left them to it.
Adonis sipped his wine. It was decent. Not great.
“We have to keep up appearances, okay?”
“But I don’t have to like it. You going to marry her?”
Adonis sighed.
“When my father retires, he’s going to make me head of the family, which will make me head of the clan. That means Commissioner of The Commission. I’ll be the most powerful man in the city. You know what that means? When that happens I’ll be free to be who I want to be. Then Bianca can kiss my bright shiny ring. If she won’t give me a divorce, I’ll just have the bitch killed,” Adonis said. It might have been a joke. It might not.
“Please Adonis, you’re no killer. You faint over nose bleeds.”
“I ain’t no killa, but don’t push me,” Adonis rapped playfully, using bass in his tone like Tupac.
“And if you say the line about pussy, I’ll slap your face,” Devante rolled his eyes.
“Regardless, when it all plays out we will be together. Your uncle won’t have a choice but to let you be with me. I’ll be his boss.”
It sounded so reasonable. Like it might actually work.
“You sound so gangsta when you talk like that. You know it turns me on,” Devante said, leaning forward across the table top.
“Yeah?”
He nodded, giving him that look that said it all.
Adonis downed his drink. “Go to bathroom. I’ll meet you there in a minute.”
“You are so bad.”
But that wasn’t a no. Devante couldn’t get up fast enough.
As soon as he was out of sight, Adonis pulled out his iPhone and made a call.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he said, then killed the call and pocketed the phone. It took less than five seconds.
When Adonis entered the bathroom, he saw a white guy hunched over the sink, washing his hands like he was Pontius fucking Pilate. Scrub scrub scrub. They nodded polite acknowledgments, then the white guy exited.
As soon as the door closed behind him, Adonis headed straight to the one stall with its door closed.
He pushed in.
Devante was in there naked from the waist down, kneeling on the toilet, so his feet wouldn’t be seen underneath the stall, waiting for him to push in.
“And what’s behind door number one, contestant?”
Adonis wasted no time, dropping his pants and sliding on the condom’s ridges down the length of his shaft before he slid deep inside that ass with the grunt that went so far beyond anticipation.
“Ohhh, don’t… yes… fuck yes…” Devante groaned with each stroke, leaning back against Adonis’ muscular chest, reaching up and around to link his fingers around the back of his neck.
Adonis gripped him by the front of his thighs and plowed, nothing tender about the jackhammer thrusts. Devante couldn’t help himself. He cried out. Adonis covered his mouth, muffling his pleasure. Even so, his guttural moans echoed in the acoustics of the bathroom.
Neither one of them cared.
Right then, it was only them; their world, their own zone.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Devante said, taking him deeper. His cock slapped against his stomach. Hard. Dripping.
“I’ve missed you, too,” Adonis whispered hoarsely in his ear.
He felt Adonis bust, filling the condom inside of him.
“Fuck, that was intense. I’m seeing stars,” Devante giggled, breathlessly.
“You are my star,” Adonis charmed.
When they came out of the cafe, Devante was glowing like a neon sign.
He didn’t give a shit about the machismo and fake masculinity as they shook hands, men saying see you around. The look on Devante’s face was unmistakable. It was the look of a man in love.
It was a look that would come back to haunt Adonis.
In a car across the street someone fired off pictures at a furious rate, framing them dead center.
Mac pulled into the parking lot of the hair salon.
His wife Kandi saw him arrive.
She walked out to meet him.
Watching her strut, he couldn’t help but smile. She had that Nia Long, bow-legged stride that stopped men in their tracks. And who could blame them? Sometimes you just had to admire black beauty in motion. She even favored Nia Long in her prime, except she sported the page boy style crop-cut with sideburns as sharp as daggers, frosted at the tips. Kandi was one of the realest chicks he’d ever met, which was why he hadn’t hesitated to put a ring on her finger.
She got in the car and gave him a juicy kiss before he pulled off.
“I like your doobie,” he remarked.
“I told that bitch I wanted platinum highlights. I don’t like these,” Kandi huffed, pulling out a blunt and lighting it up.
“You don’t like her,” he quipped.
“That, too.”
They both laughed.
“The bitch just think she got all the sense. You know how it is. The only reason I still fuck with her is because she’s the best in town,” Kandi said, passing the blunt to Mac to take a hit. Then, adding as an afterthought, “That ballplaya called me.”
He knew exactly who she was talking about.
They never used names when they discussed business.
“What he say?” Mac questioned, hitting the blunt then passing it ba
ck.
Kandi sucked her teeth dismissively.
“Nothing, really. He just be name-dropping, talking about this celeb and that celeb, NBA shit, like I’m supposed to be impressed. But I play along like, oh forreallllll?” Her voice went as fake as a porn star's orgasm. They laughed at his lameness. “Anyway, he wanna get together Friday after the game.”
“Friday’s no good.”
Kandi looked at him.
“What? Baby, I been workin’ on this nigga for too long.”
Mac shook his head. “Othello’s got a meeting with the Commission. We about to put the icing on these niggas’ cakes.”
She nodded. Understanding, but what came out of her mouth was raw. “Then I’ll handle the ballplayer and you handle Othello’s balls.” Any other bitch and Mac would’ve backhanded blood from her goddamn mouth.
“Fuck you just say?”
“No, what did you just say? Ever since this black ass muhfucka been home it’s been Othello this and Othello that, like you ain’t a boss no more, Mac.”
“Bitch, stay in your lane! I been a boss. When the smoke clears, we’ll both have a seat on The Commission! Trust me, this shit is about to put us on top.”
“You say, but the way I see it, it’s about to put Othello on top,” Kandi shot right back.
“Look, the nigga got a vision, and that’s my man.”
Kandi groaned, like she had heard it a million times before. “Here you go with that loyalty bullshit.”
“Loyalty ain’t bullshit!”
Kandi shook her head.
“Look babe, I love you to death, but you know like I know that no man can be totally loyal to another man, without becoming less of a man.”
