Gods & Gangsters 2

by SLMN

  “I’m not a man to be forgotten.”

  “Or to be humbled.”

  “Humility is overrated,” he returned, reaching for her hand. “ Othello.”

  She extended hers.

  “Mona….Jefferson,” she replied, giving him her mother’s maiden name, instead of the one that would’ve changed the whole conversation just as it had done so many times in the past.

  Othello kissed her hand like a gentleman.

  “And they say chivalry is dead.”

  “A man just needs someone worth being chivalrous for. Join me?”

  “I can’t. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be, we’ll have our time real soon, and believe me, you’re worth the wait. Enjoy your evening,” Othello charmed, kissed her hand again, then slipped something into it.

  His number.

  As he walked away, Mona smiled at the smooth way he had given her his number. Not even Celeste had seen the move.

  “Othello,” she said to herself, savoring the taste of it on her tongue.

  Cash…

  As she lay in bed, Mona couldn’t help but think of the man who had turned her out. Visions of Othello’s suave and debonair style had her anticipating the future, but thoughts of Cash had her fantasizing about the past. And the past was a dangerous landscape. She lay there, in her tank top and pink panties, covers thrown off so the night breeze could caress her skin as her mind and body salivated over that night…

  That one night when she became a woman.

  It had been Mona’s eighteenth birthday.

  Joe had gotten her a brand new purple Lamborghini truck. She, Celeste and the twins Asia and Ashanti, had gone to Dazzle’s and partied like rock stars until three in the morning. All four girls had been drinking, not enough to be wasted, but over the edge of drunk in their youthful lust. And they all looked good. Fierce. Thick and juicy. The wolves howled at their every move. No one wanted the night to end.

  “Let’s go to the Waffle House,” Asia suggested from the backseat, yelling over Nicki Minaj’s music.

  “Thugville? Oh hell no,” her bougie ass twin protested.

  “Hell yeah Mona, let’s go!” Celeste seconded, in no small part because she couldn’t stand Ashanti.

  Mona knew if Joe caught her in the hood, he’d have an absolute shit fit, but even though she didn’t make a habit of lying to him, she lived by the Golden Rule of the Girl Code: What Daddy don’t know won’t hurt him.

  When they got to the Waffle House, the place was jumping with thugs, hood rats, gang bangers and hooligans. The parking lot was packed with fly whips pumping the latest thug anthem.

  “I’m not going in,” Ashanti huffed.

  Mona shrugged. “Suit yourself, but you’ll be out here by yourself.”

  Everyone got out, except Ashanti, but before they could reach the front door, they heard the CLUNK! of the car door being slammed and Ash shouting, “Wait for me!”

  They laughed at her bluff.

  Once inside, their sexy quartet made the men pause and the bitches suck their teeth and reveal their claws. No denying it, they were showstoppers.

  At first they didn’t notice Cash holding court in the corner booth, but he most definitely noticed them, especially Mona.

  He liked the way her low slung hips bounced to the rhythm of her shapely ass. It wasn’t overly big, but it was more than a juicy handful and his palms ached just thinking about the caress.

  They ordered and even the waitress gave them attitude; it was clear these girls weren’t from the hood, because all of their designer gear was top of the line, not knockoffs and none of last year’s style, off the sales racks in the outlet mall.

  “I’m not eating anything that bitch bring me,” Celeste stated, and Mona couldn’t blame her, but before she could answer, three dudes walked over to their table. They looked like nothing more than common street niggas. The first one, a Birdman-looking dude, was the leader who spoke for his two chubby partners.

  “What’s up, pretty girl? What’s your name?”

  Mona looked at him with a withering stare that said, get out of my face, then rolled her eyes and went back to her conversation with Celeste.

  “Like I was saying,” she continued, flinging a bang of hair out of her face.

  “Hold up ma, you ain’t gotta be like that. I was just speakin’ to you,” he chuckled, but his smile barely masked his mounting aggravation.

  Mona glance up at him. “Hi,” she said sweetly. “Bye.”

  Her girlfriends laughed.

  That only added fuel to the fire.

  “Bitch, look here...”

  Before he could finish, Mona was up and in his face.

  “Who the fuck are you calling a bitch, with your busted, run down tired-looking ass?” Half of The Waffle House laughed at the way she bassed on him.

  Now, he was on fire.

  “Yo, bitch! I’ll break yo—” he spat, as he reared back to slap the fire out of her ass, but before he could whip his hand around, someone grabbed his wrist.

  “You really wanna do that?” A voice said coldly in his ear.

  He frowned up, ready to bark on the culprit, but when he saw who it was, his anger broke like an antique vase in an earthquake.

  “Yo Cash, she wit’ you?”

  Cash had been watching the situation develop.

  He liked the way she stuck up for herself, but she knew the nigga wasn’t going to let it go until he straightened his face. Cash wasn’t going to let that happen.

  “My bad, my nigga! Goddamn, I’m sorry. I ain’t know.”

  The dude broke down like a shotgun, like a jackal chest to chest with a lion.

  “Yo ma, sit down. I got this,” Cash assured Mona.

  “No, I got this,” she shot right back, chest heaving with indignation.

  Cash looked at her.

  “I said sit down. I got it,” he reiterated, more firmly this time, a hint of a smirk.

  Mona liked the way he took charge, but she still wanted to show the lame nigga she wasn’t a scared little girl. Even so, she sat.

  “My word Cash, I ain’t know!”

  The dude was damn near in tears.

  “Don’t apologize to me, nigga, apologize to her.” Cash said.

  If he would’ve been wearing a hat, he would’ve been wringing it in his hands, pure supplication. He was the bitch here, and no mistake. “My bad shorty, I mean ma, I mean… Miss. I didn’t mean no disrespect.”

  “You accept?” Cash asked.

  She took one look in Cash’s eyes and had this flash of understanding: the dude’s life was riding on what she said. She felt protected and powerful all at the same time, just like when she was with her father.

  “I guess,” she replied.

  Cash looked at the nigga.

  “Why don’t you pay for these ladies’ meals. It’s the least you could do, don’t you think?”

  Dude wasted no time digging into his pocket like he was breaking himself. The few dollars he had barely covered the bill, but he would’ve given Cash his cheap 10 karat gold chain if he had to. Anything to pay off the bill. He slithered away.

  Cash turned to Mona.

  “I know you could’ve handled it, but you didn’t have to,” he said, adding, “I’m Cash.”

  “Cash?” She echoed, skeptically, and folded her arms over her chest.

  She looked him up and down.

  His appearance lived up to his name.

  In his Red Monkey jeans and Coogi hoodie, he was definitely looking good, but she knew that wasn’t his real name.

  He read her tone and chuckled.

  “Cassio, but that’s what everybody calls me.”

  “I’m not everybody.”

  “Then you can call me what you want, ma, when you want and where you want,” he charmed.

  She blushed. “I’m Mona.”

  “Hmmm, I think I like the sound of that,” he winked.

  She couldn’t stop smiling. She was feeling his style, his game, his sw
ag. Before she knew it, she and her girlfriends were following him and his man, Mac, back to his apartment. Ashanti wanted to go home, but she was out voted.

  The night felt young again, the possibilities endless.

  Cash’s apartment was a stylish condo, his choice of decor fell under the manly but tasteful umbrella. His bar was stocked with the best, his bedroom, dark and cozy, the music, soft and warm. It wasn’t such a bad place to be.

  Even so, “I shouldn’t be here,” she demurred, as Cash enveloped her in an embrace that led to a sensual slow drag.

  “Why? You got a man?”

  “No.”

  “Are you a man?” He cracked.

  She playfully hit him.

  “Do I feel like one?” Mona flirted, grinding her body up against his.

  “Hell no.”

  “But I’m saying, we just met.”

  “You wanna leave?”

  “No.”

  “Then you stay right where you are.”

  Laying in bed, Mona remembered the moment their lips first touched, and she couldn’t help but push the elastic of her panties aside and touch herself. Her pussy was soaked as she began to massage her own clit, remembering as Cash ran his tongue down the curve of her spine, tracing the path of the chill he caused to course through her flesh like the rawest electricity.

  He licked along the crack of her ass, pushing her leg forward and cocking it up on the bed.

  “Damn that feels good…” she groaned, deliciously.

  “I want to taste every inch of you,” Cash whispered.

  When his tongue entered her pussy, she thought she would pass out, the feeling was so intense. He bent her over the bed and tongue fucked her until her pussy juices ran down her trembling thighs.

  Mona cocked open her legs as widely as they would go, and finger fucked herself with two fingers to the knuckle. She was on fire with the memory of how Cash had made her feel.

  “Oh Cash, I can’t take it…all,” she barely managed the words, clawing at the sheets as she tried to scoot away from the big black dick threatening to drive her out of her mind.

  “Ssshhhhh, take it like a big girl,” he urged her, slowly penetrating deeper and deeper until he had his whole shaft, balls deep inside of her and it was bliss.

  “I can… I can feel it… in my stomach.” Then, “Don’t stop,” she whispered to herself.

  She was so gone, her room felt like it was spinning.

  In her mind, she was back in Cash’s condo, her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, nails dug deep into his back while he dug deep into her.

  “You feel so good…”

  “Say it again?” He crooned, vigorously long dicking her and loving the way her tight little pussy gripped his dick.

  “You feel so good,” she repeated, sucking on his bottom lip.

  When he came, the force of his ejaculation sent her over the top. She coated his dick with her creamy milk center.

  “Damn lil’ mama, one more shot like that and I’ll be asking you for your ring size.”

  She giggled.

  “Seven.”

  They looked into each other’s eyes and in that moment both wanted time to stand still, freezing them in that space and time just a little bit longer.

  But by the time she got home, the future she’d been imagining was blown apart, never to be put together again. She crept through the door, barely beating the rising of the sun. Shoes in hand, she tried to tip-toe up the stairs to her room. The house was quiet, and for a moment she thought everyone was still sleeping until she heard, “You’re late.”

  The study was still dark.

  It took a minute for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she saw her father sitting in the chair, the tip of his cigar reddening as he inhaled, the fire lighting his face.

  “I didn’t know I had a curfew.”

  Joe rose and walked out of the shadows, his face a scowling mask. “Don’t play with me, Ramona,” he seethed. She knew he was more than just angry because he used her whole name.

  “Daddy, I wasn’t trying to be smart. I just lost track of-”

  “Who were you with.”

  She frowned with subtle confusion. “Celeste!”

  “No. You know who the hell I’m talking about, Ramona. I’m only going to ask this one more time, so I seriously encourage you to tell the truth. Who were you with?”

  “I-I-I… I met a guy…”

  Joe glared at his babygirl.

  “I own this city, do you understand? There’s nothing I don’t know, especially when it comes to my family. I do this to protect you, even if it’s from yourself. His name is Cash, right?’

  A beat, then Mona nodded.

  “He’s a gangsta, Mona, a common thug. A nobody, a fucking nigga not long for the grave, do you hear me?”

  “But Daddy!”

  “Don’t but Daddy me. You stay away from him. End of discussion. You do not fuck with him, are we clear?”

  Mona loved her father, but her spirit wouldn’t let her just back down. “I’m not a little girl anymore, I’m eighteen. You may not like every decision I make, but they’re mine to make, mistakes and all. You can’t control who I see.”

  Joe knew his little girl had his heart, his fire, and understood full well she wasn’t about to let him dictate her life. But she was still a woman, a woman with feelings and emotions. Something he didn’t have.

  “Okay… you’re right, Ramona, it’s your life. I may not be able to control who you see, but I can control who sees you. I’m making you a promise, babygirl... As of this day, right now, hand on my heart, if you ever see that nigga again, I’ll have him cut into little pieces and scattered around this city like the seeds of the dead. Do I make myself clear?”

  Mona’s heart seized in her chest. “You… you can’t.”

  Joe chose to avert his eyes, not wanting to see her cry, but this was an important lesson in power. His mind was made up, his resolve resolute.

  “You’re wrong, I can. But what that means is ultimately it’s on you. Only you can make the decision whether he lives or dies. You want to be grown up, make grown up decisions. You are more than welcome to go fuck him again. You know the consequences of your actions. You decide. Not me.”

  “That’s not fair!”

  “Life isn’t fair, babygirl,” Joe responded, then walked out.

  Mona laid in the bed, feeling the hurt and pain of her father’s ultimatum all over again.

  She remembered how badly it had hurt to send Cash’s calls to voicemail until he finally stopped calling.

  Fortunately for him, she didn’t run in any of the circles he did, so she never saw again.

  Until she did.

  Now her stomach knotted knowing he was back in her life.

  And knowing that her Daddy was a man of his word.

  Benny walked out of the corner store and headed toward his burgundy Range Rover, sitting on 22’s. His eyes widened with curiosity when he saw the beautiful Latina chick leaning against his driver’s door.

  She wore a pair of coochie cutter shorts that hugged her camel toe and made him want to suck that sweet pussy through her shorts.

  Her toes looked delectable in the wraparound Roman sandals she was wearing.

  He stepped to her, smiling from ear to ear.

  “Benny, right?” She asked, her accent sharp as Cardi B’s.

  “Wifey, right?”

  She smiled, then extended the cellphone in her hand to him. “Venus. Someone wants to speak to you.”

  His street instincts kicked in and the smile dried up on his face. “Who?”

  “Only one way to find out.”

  He paused for a moment, then took the phone and said, “Hello?”

  “Remember me?” The raspy voice on the other end answered.

  “Naw,” Benny said, “And I ain’t got time for games.”

  “Let me help jog your memory then. Othello.”

  As soon as he heard the name, he snatched the g
un off his waistline and aimed it at Venus. She smiled to herself, thinking how slow he’d been with the draw, how close he was when he drew down and how she could’ve spit the razor out of her mouth and slit his throat before he even gripped the handle.

  But since she wasn’t there to take his life, she amused herself with his weak bravado.

  “Fuck you want, man?” Benny growled, trying to sound tough, but too scared to do a good job.

  Othello chuckled down the line at him.

  “Naw Duke, I don’t want no smoke, and if I remember correctly, neither do you. I’m not looking for enemies brah, I got enough of them. I’m looking for friends. I thought you and I got along pretty good the other night.”

  “Yeah, ‘cause you had the gun. Now I do. I suggest you get this bitch out my face, or—”

  “Mami can take care of herself,” Othello cut him off before he could say something he wouldn’t live to regret. “Bottom line is this: shit is going down and I’m coming up. The only question is, which team you on? Take a beat. Think about it. I like you, Benny. You a real nigga. You held water under pressure the other night. You ain’t panic. But your man Don, he’s finished,” Othello explained.

  Benny thought about what Othello said.

  He had been hearing how hard Othello was going, and it did seem like The Commission was shook, maybe even going to war with him. Besides, since he was Don’s last man standing, he could come up himself if he played his cards right. “What you have in mind?”

  “Mami’s got something for you. Ten grand. I need a favor.”

  “Like what?’

  “I want you to take her out, chill, maybe you might even get lucky. But I need you to introduce her to Don. That’s it.”

  An indecent proposal?

  “That it?’

  “No more, no less.”

  Benny looked at Venus. She winked at him, then pulled an envelope out of her back pocket. He didn’t know what looked better, all those big faces on the green or her thick, shapely body.

  He held out his hand.

  “Good choice. I knew you were a smart man,” Othello commented, as Benny reached for the money.

  Benny’s brow furled.

  He looked around.

  That was when he noticed Othello sitting across the street in a black on black Benz G-wagon.