After quickly releasing Tasha, he put his hand around his length and pumped every single ounce of cum out of himself and into the tip of the condom.
Tasha pulled her dress down and straightened it out. “So . . . do we have a deal?” she asked.
“Are you crazy? Hell yeah, we got a deal.” He breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath after that workout. “Whatever you want,” he replied breathlessly as he began to clean himself up with some napkins he removed from around a paper cup of coffee.
Tasha, accustomed to getting her way, smiled. “Good. I need you to do it tonight.”
“Tonight?” Troy questioned. “I need a little bit more time for that. I have to make sure I get the right men for the job, if you know what I’m saying. How about tomorrow night?”
“Tomorrow night will be too late,” Tasha told him. “You know how the game is. Anything can change between now and tomorrow night. You need to make that hit tonight, or it might not even be worth it.” Tasha walked up to Troy seductively. “And you know damn well it was worth it. Might even be worth a little somethin’-somethin’ extra . . . if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, I know what you mean all right, sweet thang.” He looked Tasha up and down. “Tell you what—let me make a few calls. Now that I’m looking at things from another perspective”—He gave Tasha the once-over—“I think tonight is doable.”
“Good.” Tasha smiled. “I’m glad you took another look at things.” She winked and then said, “So tonight, after you do your part, we’ll split everything up sixty-forty, my favor.”
Troy frowned as he pulled up his slacks. “Sixty-forty? What happened to fifty-fifty?”
“Well, Officer Troy, I, too, had to take another look at things. And, well, you know”—She looked down at herself—“this pussy ain’t free.” Tasha blew him a kiss as she sashayed away.
She opened the door to find a group of men standing there and eyeing her as if they were imagining what it would be like to be in Troy’s shoes.
“Gentlemen,” she greeted them, maneuvering between the men and exiting the building. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. She was about to gain her independence from Manolo. That was definitely something to smile about.
Tasha also knew that afterwards, she, Halleigh, and Mimi would have to lay low. She decided that she would go back to her hometown of New York for a while until things cooled off. She thought about the bricks she would soon have on her hands to unload and turn into cash. That wasn’t her forte, but she knew just who could help her do it. She was looking forward to the future now. After tonight, she hoped to be on the first flight out of Flint to New York. She couldn’t wait to share the good news with Halleigh and Mimi as she made her way back to the house.
As Tasha drove, she thought momentarily about Manolo and what her betrayal would do to him. The more she thought about her relationship with him, the more she realized that Manolo had never done her wrong, not even once, since she’d known him. He’d always treated her like his main bitch, even before she ever officially was. As a matter of fact, it wasn’t even his idea to put Tasha on the ho stroll in the first place; it was her own. She was paper-driven at the time, and whoring was just another way to add to the hustle.
Unlike the other girls, Tasha had been picky regarding who she would trick with. Not that the majority of the men were fine anyway, but there was a fine line between unattractive, plain ol’ ugly, and completely disgusting. So if one of her johns would show up looking like he could make her throw up, Tasha would pass on the money, and not once did Manolo ever reprimand her for it. But if any other bitch had tried that, he would have been upside her head quick, fast and in a hurry.
Although Tasha had witnessed Manolo beat a couple of the girls senseless, he’d never laid a hand on her, except to embrace her or make love to her. Come to think of it, Manolo was the first man in Tasha’s life who hadn’t hurt her, and setting him up was how she was about to repay him.
All of a sudden, the sound of the tires rolling off the paved highway lane and onto the berm startled Tasha out of her thoughts. “Oh, shit!” she said as she regained control of the car and positioned the vehicle back in its lane. Now she just needed to get control of herself because there was no turning back at this point.
As Tasha continued driving, fond thoughts of Manolo were suppressed by visions of everything she had witnessed him doing to the other girls, especially Halleigh and Mimi. She recalled how Manolo had beaten Mimi almost unconscious one night at Wild Thangs, leaving her so bruised up that she couldn’t put in work for almost a month. Then she recalled the time Manolo beat Halleigh when she refused to give him head as he had ordered her to do. And she didn’t even want to think about the time he locked her down in the basement all those days.
Tasha couldn’t help but shudder. How could she have stood by all of these years and turn a blind eye? Guilt began to consume her.
Tasha realized that all the girls who had ever come through that house had taken one for the team by means of physical or mental abuse. Everyone but her. So, as she weighed her loyalty to Manolo against her sympathy for the girls, it was a no-brainer. She stepped on the gas and said, “Fuck you, Manolo. I’m out for self now.”
Chapter Four
Tariq waited anxiously at Atlas Restaurant. Today was the day that he would become boss by default. He had spent the last few weeks mapping out his master plan, and now it was all about to go down. Tariq hadn’t been shy about bragging of his efforts, before they were even played out, to any member of his team that had been willing to listen. But he felt comfortable bringing only one of his workers into the actual scheme.
Poppa, one of Tariq’s workers, would wait for them to arrive at a rest stop halfway between Detroit and Flint. That was the spot where Tariq decided to take out both Joe and Malek, and Poppa was going to be the triggerman. Tariq was counting on Joe bringing Malek along. He knew that Malek already had a thing against him, and if Joe turned up dead on a run he had set up, Tariq knew that it wouldn’t take long for Malek to put two and two together. Then a war would be on between the two of them. But by the same token, Tariq knew that Malek was like Joe’s little shadow, and more likely than not, he would be tagging along.
The plan was one that couldn’t fail, let Tariq tell it. After Poppa took out Joe and Malek, Tariq was going to leave their bodies there to rot, and take off with not only the bricks of cocaine, but with his newfound boss status. It was cut and dried. The only thing for him to do now was to wait.
After leaving the restaurant, Tariq sat out in the parking lot in his 2007 Suburban. That was the spot where he was supposed to meet up with Jamaica Joe and Malek. Any other time, he would have been bitter about the young buck rolling with them to handle grown folks’ business, but this time, he was glad that Joe was bringing Malek along with them, so that he could kill two birds with one stone.
Tariq looked in his rearview mirror and saw his man in the rear hatch with a pistol gripped tightly. He looked straight ahead as he gave nineteen-year-old Poppa some last-minute instructions. “Yo, fam, you have to stay quiet, and don’t do anything until I give you the signal.”
“I got you, man,” the young gun assured Tariq.
“Remember, when I pull into the rest area and turn the music up, bang them.”
“Ain’t they gon’ think it strange when you pull over and shit?”
“I’m going to tell them I have to pull over to piss. That’s when you do it, man.” A half smile spread across Tariq’s lips as he pictured the bloody scene. “Two shots to the head apiece. I got the body bags in the back. We gon’ toss them into the river right by the rest stop. It’s a perfect setup. All head shots, got it?”
“I got you, man,” the boy hissed. “We went over this a million times already. If you doubted my skills, then you shouldn’t have put a nigga on, ya heard.” Poppa was lightweight offended. Tariq going over the plan with him repeatedly made it seem like Tariq thought he couldn’t handle his bu
siness like the big boys. Poppa couldn’t remember how many times he had told these cats that age ain’t nothin’ but a number. He was like Michael on The Wire. He could take out the best.
“Well, mu’fucka, I don’t care how many times we have to go over this, li’l nigga. You got to hit they ass right, feel me? Any mistakes could cost you your life. Joe stay strapped, and I know Malek’s ass is going to have his banger, so you just make sure you do the shit right. You gotta be quick. I don’t want to have to pull out my piece and cover your ass,” Tariq spat.
“Oh, nigga don’t want to get his hands dirty, but wanna be the boss?” Poppa chuckled under his breath.
“What was that shit, man?” Tariq turned around and asked.
“Oh, nothing, man, I was just sayin’, You the boss.” Poppa smiled and then quickly erased it.
Tariq turned back around. That’s when he saw Joe’s car pull into the parking lot. He could feel his heartbeats increase, and the palms of his hands got a little sweaty. He wiped his hands down his pants and then calmed himself down, trying to look normal.
“It’s showtime!” Tariq sang. “This is going to change both of our lives. We gon’ be like Jerry Maguire and shit. We Tom Cruise and Cuba. I got some shit going on with Sweets, and we are all going to come together.” Tariq told more of his full plan. “I’m going to run the North Side and make you my right-hand man, young gun. You ready to become a legend, nigga? This is where you earn yo’ stripes.”
Poppa got himself into a comfortable position in the back, where his marks wouldn’t be able to see him. “I’m ready.”
Malek drove Joe’s Lexus coupe into Atlas Restaurant parking lot and noticed that Tariq’s truck was parked toward the back. He then looked over at Joe, who was sitting next to him. “You sure you want to roll out with him, knowing that it’s a setup?” Malek parked the car.
Joe said, “Do you trust me, Malek?”
“No doubt,” Malek answered. “You my man.”
“Roll with me on this one then, fam. I got this under control.” Joe grabbed his pistol from his glove compartment and tucked it in his waist. He then gave Malek a look, as if giving him one last opportunity to break out.
Malek was skeptical and didn’t know what Joe had planned, but he trusted him and was willing to have his back through whatever, especially if it meant seeing Tariq’s head roll. Malek gave him a nod, letting Joe know that he was “ride or die.”
As Joe and Malek got out of the vehicle, Malek’s heart was pounding, not out of fear, but pure adrenaline. He didn’t know what to expect, and he didn’t see the logic behind Jamaica Joe walking into a setup. He guessed Joe didn’t want to believe that his right-hand man would do him harm, and was hoping that he would have a change of heart and back out.
This nigga got balls, for real, Malek thought. I’m keeping my hands on my banger at all times. That’s my word.
Joe instructed Malek to get the duffle bag from his back seat. Malek did as he was told, and then the two headed toward Tariq’s truck. When Joe approached it, he opened the back passenger’s side door.
“What up,” Tariq said simply, looking over his shoulder at Joe.
“Handling this business,” Joe replied. “That’s what’s up.”
“Then let’s ride out. Get in.”
Joe hesitated for a minute. “I was thinking we ride out in my whip. You ain’t really had a chance to roll in my new ride. Besides, I kinda wanna ride in the comfort of my own home, if you know what I’m saying.”
Malek, who had one hand on the front passenger’s door and the duffle bag in the other, paused to see what the deal was, whether they were going to ride in Tariq’s vehicle or Joe’s.
“Well, uh, you know I done, uh,” Tariq started, with Joe trying to read the expression on his face and his body language, “I done got an oil change and shit and gassed up, you know.”
Tariq, not wanting to look too suspicious, added, “But we can roll in your whip if you want to. It’s all good.” Tariq took his keys out of the ignition as if he were all gung ho about riding in Joe’s car, but inside he was waiting for Joe to say the words that, within seconds, he eventually spoke.
“Nah,” Joe said. “We can go on and take your shit. My shit almost on empty, and I ain’t trying to make no stops riding dirty. You know what I mean?”
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Tariq replied, “Yeah, I know what you saying.”
Joe looked over at Malek and nodded for him to go ahead and climb in, which he did.
Malek and Joe hopped into Tariq’s truck. Joe sat in the back, just like he always did. He never liked anyone to sit behind him. Malek sat up front with Tariq, who pulled off as soon as they were both in.
Tariq looked in the rearview mirror and addressed Joe. “What’s good, fam?”
Joe nodded. “Like I said, just trying to make this money . . . fam.”
Joe, as hard as it was for him, maintained his composure toward this man who had for years called himself his right-hand man. Tariq had served as his confidant, his ace. Now it sickened him that he had to share the same air with him . . . but not for long. It was do or die. One of them was gon’ do, and the other was gon’ die. But which one?
Tariq looked at Malek and put his hand out to greet him. “What’s good, Malek?”
Malek didn’t even respond; he just kept his head straight.
Tariq’s actions were a dead giveaway to Joe and Malek. Both Malek and Joe couldn’t help but notice how out of character Tariq was acting already. Tariq never spoke to Malek. His jealousy of him had always been present, and he displayed it by being silent and giving Malek the cold shoulder. But today he made an exception. That didn’t sit well. If Malek and Joe hadn’t known something was up before now, Tariq’s actions tipped them off for certain.
Malek watched Tariq pull his trembling hand back. This nigga has got to be the dumbest mu’fucka in Flint. Look at this nigga. It was obvious that Tariq’s nerves were getting the better of him. It was written all over his face, and his uneasiness was evident.
Joe didn’t want Tariq to sense that they knew something was going on, so he said, “Yo, fam, you sure this nigga is a hundred percent?”
“I’m sure. He is getting money out in the D. My uncle used to run with him back in the day. The nigga is one hundred percent, for sure. Square business!”
“If shit don’t go down as expected, I’m holding you personally responsible, you feel me?” Joe told Tariq.
Tariq glared at Joe through the rearview mirror before saying, “Don’t worry, boss. I promise that if things don’t go as you expect them to, I’ll be glad to take full responsibility.” Tariq then turned his attention back to driving.
For the next thirty minutes, the three of them rode on I-75 without sound, everyone attending to their own thoughts. Poppa lay slumped in the back, trying to remain as quiet as possible. His heart raced a hundred miles per minute as he gripped his .45 automatic pistol. He was ready to go through with the plan. All he had to do was just wait for Tariq to pull over at the rest area so that he could earn his stripes.
Ever since he was twelve, when he did his first hit, Poppa felt like he always had something to prove in the streets. He was tired of people taking him for some okey-doke Negro. Although his history had just been poppin’ off niggas for pay, which was how he came about the moniker Poppa, this wasn’t no ordinary work for hire. He was caught up in a situation with the king of the North, which would earn him more street credit than he had ever imagined. Ready to make a real name for himself in the streets and shut niggas up from ever doubting his skills again, Poppa sat back and waited for his cue, which didn’t take long to come.
“Yo, I got to piss like a mu’fucka.” Tariq squirmed in his seat. “Here’s a rest area coming up,” he said as they passed the sign. “I’m-a pull over real quick.”
“Yo, you can’t wait until we handle this business, fam?” Joe asked, hoping that Tariq would change his mind and not go through with it. “I said I didn’t
want to make no stops riding dirty. Fuck, we could have taken my car if we was gon’ be stopping any damn way.”
“I got to go now,” Tariq said nonchalantly as he frantically kept checking the rearview mirror.
Once they came upon the ramp and Tariq exited the highway, the tension in the truck grew, as everyone knew something was about to go down.
Tariq pulled into the rest area and threw the car in park. He looked around and saw that no other cars were at the rest stop, and he knew this shit was destined to go down. Luck was on his side. Now he didn’t have to worry about someone hearing the gunshots, or having to take out any extra heads. Hopefully Poppa would be quick about his business before any other cars pulled up.
“I’ll be right back.” Tariq turned up the music and yelled, “Y’all can just chill and listen to this new Scarface CD.”
As Tariq got out of the car, Malek slowly slid his hand to his waist and waited for shit to pop off. He kept his eyes burned to Tariq’s back. If his eyes could shoot bullets, Tariq would be full of holes the way Malek was glaring him down.
Tariq walked toward the men’s restroom with a quick pace. He could hear his heart beating as he braced himself for the gunfire that he anticipated. He thought back to the time when he and Joe were as tight as blood brothers. He would have killed for Joe. As a matter of fact, he had killed for Joe on several occasions. Now the game had changed—well, at least the players were about to change anyhow. And Tariq knew that there was no turning back now. He could only stand in wait to hear the gunshot blast come from the car, so that he could get it over with.
Tariq might have talked a good game, and as big as his talk was, one might’ve thought his bullet game would be just as big.
Poppa had even asked him why he didn’t save himself the money and the trouble and just pop Joe himself, but Tariq turned the tables on Poppa by asking him why he wanted to know. Was he scared to put in the work? Not one to back down from a test, Poppa ceased his questioning and accepted the job.
Back to the Streets Page 4
