A Gangsta's Son

by Rio

  “You too young to be drinkin’,” Shay said, filling her shot glass with the vodka. “Two shots is enough for you.”

  “Fuck you think you talkin’ to? I’m fourteen goin’ on thirty, and I got a grown man dick and a grown man bankroll...”

  Joe-Joe was flaunting a stack of cash in Shay’s face when Tyrone got up and followed Kisha out of the kitchen.

  “I’m not lettin’ you go outside drunk like this,” Tyrone said, grabbing ahold of Kisha’s elbow just as they were entering the living room. “Wait till Mikey get back. You can’t even walk straight right now.”

  “Boy you better let me go before you end up wit’ two useless arms.” She yanked her elbow out of his grasp. “I’m good, okay? Shit, I might be able to get this hoe to give you some pussy. She a stripper, dark like me, kinda cute, too.”

  Shaking his head, and secretly scoping Kisha’s plump backside, he locked his fingers around her elbow again. But this time he pushed her onto the new white leather sofa.

  She looked up at him and laughed. Her eyes drifted down to the crotch of his jeans and she reached out to touch it; he slapped her hand so hard that she snatched it back and massaged it.

  Tyrone’s expression became a mask of disgust. He was attracted to Kisha the same way he was to all beautiful black women, but his loyalty to Mikey and the TVL mob came first.

  “You ain’t that muhfuckin drunk,” he said, scowling.

  “I know.” Kisha shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tyrone. I’m so fucked up off that Ciroc.” She reached around him and lifted her phone from the table. “Damn, Cre done called me three times already.”

  “Who?”

  “Lacresha, the stripper I was just tellin’ you about, the one who was supposed to meet us on Homan when they started shootin’.”

  Tyrone frowned thoughtfully.

  Kisha returned Lacresha’s call.

  ~Chapter 20~

  In the alley a block down from Kisha’s Millard Street home, Lacresha drove up beside the white Lincoln and parked. She was behind the wheel of her new friend King-Royce’s shiny yellow Bentley coupe. A dark pair of Chanel shades shielded her blood-shot eyes from the harsh sunlight and her tiny, yellow, one-shouldered Prada dress left little to the imagination. Yesterday she had watched her brother’s casket get lowered into the earth, and then she had driven home to Royce’s condo in his black Benz and curled up in bed alone, crying her eyes out and reading a LaTonya West novel on her iPad’s Kindle app.

  Royce had stayed at the small mansion that he shared with his wife Aesha in Bellwood, just as he’d been doing since he’d given Cresha the keys to his Gold Coast condo. She knew he was only helping her out of sympathy; She was his favorite stripper at Arnie’s, had been for months, plus she and James had just bought nine ounces of soft from Royce a couple of weeks ago, and eight pounds of Kush a month before that.

  Cresha took a seven-gram bag of coke out of her Coach bag and poured a little onto the screen of her iPad. The Bentley’s passenger door opened and in climbed two dark-hued goons, both with assault rifles gripped tightly in their veiny teenaged hands. Branches of dread locks were draped over their cold young eyes.

  “Please,” Cresha said, rolling a hundred dollar bill into a nose straw, “tell me y’all found that nigga and put a hole in his head.”

  “We aired out the whole block. The whip we been seein’ outside ol’ girl crib was out there. We wet that muhfucka up, too,” said Treys, the violently-composed Black Disciple in the passenger’s seat. “A nigga in that Monte Carlo got to bussin’ back and shot Lil Bobo in the neck. Lil nigga in there bleedin’ out as we speak.”

  “Hell yeah,” said Two-One, the BD who was sitting behind Treys. “That lil nigga stretched out in the backseat lookin’ paler than a muhfucka. He called his momma. She on her way to get him now.”

  Cresha snorted up a line of coke and then dropped her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose between her two fingers. ‘These lil nigga gon’ get me locked up,’ she thought to herself before glancing over at the white Lincoln.

  “Does she know that he was with y’all?”

  Treys shook his head no. “Fuck is we still sittin’ here for? Let’s ride, nigga.” He reclined his seat and waited for her to pull off.

  But Cresha didn’t step her Prada heel on the gas pedal. She snorted up another line of uncut powder then dug in her purse and, ignoring her vibrating phone, pulled out the chrome .38 she had gotten from her brother, and handed it to Treys.

  “Y’all just put in some serious work for me, and I’m not tryna be tied up in court over this shit.” Cresha locked eyes with the young goon sitting next to her. “Think they ain’t gon’ question Bobo when he get to the hospital? You better handle that shit ‘fore we end up wit’ life sentences.”

  “Hell muhfuckin yeah,” Two-One agreed from the backseat. “We just met that lil nigga anyway. If he fold, we all fucked.”

  Aggressively, Treys pushed open his door and walked over to the old white Lincoln. He stuck the revolver through the driver’s side window and two thunderous gunshots followed.

  Cresha watched the blood splash up onto the rear windows. Then Treys returned to his seat in the Bentley and Cresha sped off.

  ~Chapter 21~

  “I miss you already, Pops,” I said, standing beside the casket with my brother. “Guess I’ll see you again one day. I know I will. And I hope shit get a lil better after this life.”

  “Straight up,” Scrilla Man said. “Ain’t never gon’ be another nigga like you. Wish I wouldn’t have stayed out of town so much. I was s’posed to be there to burn that nigga who shot you.”

  Shaking my head despondently, I leaned closer to my father’s misshapen face and whispered, “It was my ID, Pops. I dropped my ID in that bedroom, and that girl picked it up when we left.”

  Scrilla Man gave me a questioning look, so I stepped aside and explained how the robbery had transpired, while a steady line of old-school gangsters, pimps, young thugs, and family members stepped up and paid their last respects to Pops.

  “Man,” Scrilla said when I was done telling him about the robbery. He lifted his eyes to a statue of Jesus hanging from a cross. “I hate to say it, but we can’t let ol’ girl get away wit’ this. If she brought a nigga to rob you once, she’ll do it again. Guarantee it.”

  “I already know, bruh.” I glanced over at Jessica, a thickly-built red-bone who was sauntering toward us in a snug-fitting white dress. She was an eighteen year old hood chick off 16th and Spaulding, brought to the funeral by her father, Big Cory, who had been tight with Pops for decades.

  “Where you gon’ be after the funeral?” She asked me.

  “At the cemetery.” I checked my phone for the time. “Why?”

  “Cause Sicko Mob got a video shoot on Christiana tonight.”

  “I ain’t gon’ miss it,” I said.

  “Can you pick me up from my auntie crib on Lawndale at seven? I gotta babysit my nephews till six-thirty, and I don’t wanna walk all the way down there wit’ all the shootin’ that’s been goin’ on.”

  “I gotchoo. Just call and remind me at around—”

  My words ceased at the sight of Manny, Mone’s cousin. He was walking up to the casket in a fresh gray suit that matched the graying braids on his coal-black scalp. He had tears sliding down his face.

  “First Mone, now you,” Manny said, sniffling.

  He didn’t get another word out. I turned and broke his jaw with a vicious right hay-maker and he collapsed to the floor, unconscious and bleeding from the mouth. I managed to stomp his face twice and snatch the Glock from my waist before Scrilla Man wrapped his powerful arms around me, lifted me into the air, and carried me a good ten feet away. Quickly regaining my composure, I ripped loose and put the gun back on my hip.

  “That nigga snitched on Pops!” I was furious… until I noticed that several of my aunts, uncles, and cousins were scurrying out of the church with their children, while the Gangsters gazed down at Manny’s slee
ping body with amusement etched on their black faces.

  Rose kicked the side of Manny’s head and spit on his forehead as we were leaving. We decided against attending the burial. Instead, I hopped in Kisha’s SUV, hardly noticing Jessica’s presence as she slid into the passenger’s seat beside me. I sped off ahead of Scrilla’s Escalade.

  “Why did you knock that man out like that?” Jessica asked. She sighed and studied the AK-47 that was lying between our seats. “You’re crazy, you now that? All of you niggas off fifteenth—y’all get money, but y’all get crazy, too. I was right around the corner on Trumbull when y’all got to shootin’ earlier. Lil Will’s momma said he might not pull through.” She sucked her teeth indignantly and mumbled, “I bet it was them Breeds off thirteenth and Christiana.”

  I lit a cigarette and was silent for a moment as I drove down Douglas Boulevard. My eyes flicked to and fro, searching for the white Lincoln I’d shot at earlier. I spotted numerous cars full of TVLs driving around aimlessly and I knew that they, too, were searching for the Lincoln.

  “Where you wanna get dropped off at?” I said finally.

  “I’ll walk from Kisha’s house.” Jessica was twirling a lock of her long black hair around the tip of a perfectly-manicured and polished forefinger. She was a certified dime piece, short and pretty with a body like K. Michelle’s. “Or y’all can come kick it wit’ me and my bitches,” she added, blowing a big pink bubble with the gum she was chewing.

  I decided the latter suggestion was more reasonable.

  ~Chapter 22~

  “Lay down and take a nap, Kisha. You are way too fucked up,” Tyrone said as he laid Kisha on her bed and covered her with a blanket. He and Joe-Joe had just carried her from the bathroom after watching her vomit out everything she’d eaten.

  Kisha turned over to face Tyrone as Joe-Joe was leaving the bedroom. She laughed abruptly when the door clicked shut.

  “Ain’t shit funny,” Tyrone said, taking a seat next to her. He checked his phone to see if his girlfriend had called yet.

  She hadn’t.

  “Nothin’ ass bitch,” Tyrone hissed, setting the phone aside. He leaned forward and adjusted the sling on his arm, wondering where the two gunshots they’d heard a few minutes ago had come from.

  The feeling of Kisha’s hand caressing his lower back pulled him away from his thoughts.

  “Stop touchin’ me, Kisha.”

  “Boy, do I look like I’m touchin’ you?”

  “I’m dead serious.”

  “I am, too,” Kisha said, still rubbing his back.

  Just then his phone rang. It was Mikey.

  He knocked Kisha’s hand away and stood up to answer the call. She smiled, eyeing the bulging front of his pants.

  “Man, I done whooped a nigga at the funeral,” Mikey said. “We ain’t goin’ to the burial. I’m over Sandy crib now. ‘Bout to fuck lil thick-ass Jessica then slide over there to pick y’all up. Shit, nigga, you see all them police cars in the alley? I think somebody got whacked back there.”

  “Nah, I ain’t even looked.” Tyrone was grinding his teeth together, and his nostrils were flaring.

  “Just sit tight, lil bruh. I got a few more blessin’s for you. Finna buss lil momma down first. On King James I got you, though.”

  “Yup,” was Tyrone’s brief reply.

  He ended the call and leaned forward against the side of the bed. Kisha reached out and touched the hard pole that was hidden in his jeans. This time she received no resistance. Tyrone stared down at her hand as she squeezed and tugged on his erection, and he didn’t say a word when she unbuckled his Louis Vuitton belt, pulled his dick out, and started jerking it back and forth.

  “Lock the door and lay down right here,” Kisha said, scooting over and slapping the center of the bed.

  Tyrone did as he was told. Seconds later, he was lying in bed with his pants and boxers pushed down around his knees. Kisha licked and sucked his dick for a nice long while, and he didn’t feel bad at all.

  Because Tyrone’s girlfriend was Jessica, though Mikey didn’t know it.

  ~Chapter 23~

  “Where da money you owe us at?” Treys asked, turning to Cresha with the revolver in hand.

  She pointed at a box of Kleenex tissues on the dashboard. “It’s in there, under the tissue. Four racks, all hundreds.” She sucked her teeth and added, “I shouldn’t have to pay you niggas nothin’. It ain’t like y’all killed who I sent y’all to kill. Nah, you blind mothafuckas went and shot everybody but him.”

  “You paid us to ride down on the niggas that killed James. We did that,” Treys retorted.

  Two-One stuck his head in between the front seats to watch Treys count the money, and Cresha’s eyes returned to the road ahead. She had stopped in another alley just long enough for the young thugs to stash their assault rifles in the trunk. Now she was cruising down Roosevelt Road with the tinted windows up and the AC blasting. She put on a shocked expression every time a CPD vehicle sped by.

  Her mind was on her money. After selling her brother’s SUV and the few ounces of coke he’d left in her attic, Cresha had ended up with a little over $8,500; now she was down to $4,500, and she wasn’t happy about it. In fact, she was so unhappy about it that she started crying.

  “Maaaan,” Treys said, counting the money again, “don’t start wit’ that shit on us. We really wanted to get at them niggas for killin’ Mone, and we aired out that Monte Carlo, too. We gave ‘em the b’ness. Fuck is you cryin’ about? You can stop that bull—”

  SKEEEERK!

  The Bentley’s tires screamed as Cresha busted a sudden U-turn in the middle of traffic, nearly crashing her rear bumper against the front end of an F-150 pick-up truck.

  Two-One leaned forward and pressed the barrel of his 30-round Ruger pistol against her cheek. “Bitch, what the fuck you on?! Get us back to Englewood ASAP!”

  “Chill out, bruh,” Treys said, grabbing Two-One’s wrist and forcing him to lower the weapon. “We’ll go back. But on David, if somethin’ happens to us, my lil shooters gon’ tear yo’ whole family up.”

  Wiping away her tears, Cresha stepped on the gas.

  ~Chapter 24~

  The wet sounds Jessica’s pussy made at my every thrust was like music to my ears. Kneeling behind her on an air mattress in her aunt, Sandy’s, daughter’s bedroom, I was gripping her hips and pounding in and out of her while she worked her mouth up and down my brother’s dick.

  On the side of the mattress, Rose was fucking Makayla, a cute brown-skin girl. A few blunts of Kush was all it had taken to get them to buss down, and I wanted to enjoy every minute of it. After all that had happened in the past week, it felt good to be dicking down a thick bad bitch. I wanted the feeling to last forever.

  I took off the condom, traded places with Scrilla, and palmed the back of Jessica’s head until I filled her mouth with semen.

  That is when the banging started.

  THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP

  It sounded like someone was trying to punch through the front door.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Rose asked.

  I dressed hurriedly and stepped out into the dingy living room; Scrilla and Rose were seconds behind me, fastening their jeans and belts.

  Jessica’s other friend—a pregnant chubby girl named Stacy—was peeking out the window with a shocked expression on her plump black face.

  The banging continued.

  “Who out there?” I asked.

  “Makayla’s boyfriend,” Stacy answered. “That nigga Ton from off Trumbull. He gon’ whoop Makayla’s ass for bein’ in here with y’all.”

  Jessica and Makayla came out of the bedroom wrapped in bed sheets. Makayla looked scared.

  “Y’all go out the back door,” she said.

  “What?!” I said, walking to the front door. “This soft ass nigga ain’t gon’ do nothin’.”

  I opened the door and stared Ton down. He was taller than I and about a hundred pounds heavier.
/>   “Makayla, getcho ass out here!” Ton snapped as he attempted to push me aside.

  Wrong move.

  I hit him with five sharp jabs, and before he could turn to defend himself, Scrilla Man and Rose were flooding his face with punches.

  We knocked him to the floor and stomped him to sleep. Makayla tried intervening and caught an accidental elbow to the jaw from Rose. Scrilla Man picked up a closed baby stroller that was leaning against the wall and started beating Ton’s head with it.

  Then Scrilla Man and Rose finished getting dressed and we left.

  ~Chapter 25~

  “Mmm, shit, I’m finna cum,” Tyrone said, holding on to Kisha’s waist with his one good hand as she rode him reverse cowgirl style.

  She tightened her vaginal muscles around his bare dick and slowed down a bit, squeezing the cum out of him until his twitching pole dropped from inside her and collapsed onto his abdomen.

  She moved forward on her hands and knees so that her glistening wet pussy was directly over his deflating manhood. She pushed his semen out, and it dripped down onto the shaft of his dick.

  “Damn,” was all he could say as Kisha turned around and sucked the cum into her mouth.

  “You like that shit, don’t you?” She asked, swallowing his seed.

  Tyrone responded with a short, breathless laugh. He watched her pull the tight black dress down and search around for her panties, while he yanked up his boxers and pants. When they opened the bedroom door, Shay and Joe-Joe were standing there in the hallway with knowing smirks on their faces.

  “Fuck is y’all smilin’ about?” Tyrone snapped.

  Shay crossed her arms over her small chest and slowly nodded her head. “Mmmm hmmm. We saw it all through the keyhole.”

  “Y’all ain’t seen shit.” Tyrone stepped around them and was just about to go in the bathroom to clean himself up when suddenly the front door swung open.

  ~Chapter 26~

  I looked at Tyrone and smiled as I walked through the door.