Mafioso [Part 2]

by Nisa Santiago

  18

  Famous for its many seafood restaurants, City Island was a small island neighboring the Bronx. There were over thirty eateries, ranging from fast food to chic establishments like the French Bistro SK and The Black Whale, a place famous for its desserts. With it being early afternoon on a fair summer day, there wasn’t a crowd yet, and seating outside was available, giving diners a view of the calm sea and the many boats and yachts docked nearby. It was the perfect setting for an impromptu afternoon date, if one could call it that. To Max, she was merely having dinner with Miguel, and they were talking about business.

  The Lobster Box had some of the best seafood in town. The place carried a delightful nautical atmosphere for the customers with breathtaking views of Long Island Sound.

  Max sat opposite Miguel at the wood Bertram table, and the two conversed like they never had conversed before. Usually, Miguel would be aloof and standoffish toward her, but today he was a different person. He was smiling more, and he was more engaged in the conversation.

  They ate their meals and took in the tranquil scenery. They both downed a few strong cocktails. Miguel also got a few laughs to escape from Max. He was humorous when he wanted to be.

  For Max, the attention felt good. Her new look was worth the money, and it generated the right reaction from the right people. If she’d effortlessly turned a man like Miguel with her new look, then she could only imagine what other damage she could do. Scott came to her mind, and she wondered about him. If he saw her again like this, still looking like a goddess, curvy and sexy in so many ways after spending over twenty years behind bars, what would his reaction be toward her? Would he come groveling at her feet, begging for her forgiveness and wanting her back? She didn’t want him back, that’s for sure. She wanted the entire family to suffer.

  “So what’s your story?” Miguel asked her.

  “My story?”

  “Yes. Tell me about yourself. I want to know.”

  Max smirked at how easy it was to make Miguel putty in her hands. She was uncertain if she should tell him her business, since he and Nadia were simply pawns in her criminal scheme. “Tell me your story,” she replied. “How did you and Nadia meet?”

  Miguel now looked hesitant to tell her his business. He finished the cocktail and sighed. With a few drinks in his system, he felt more willing to discuss his business. He looked at Max with conviction and responded, “We’ve known each other since high school. It’s that simple. She’s my high school sweetheart. She got pregnant her senior year, and we been together ever since then.”

  They ordered more cocktails. Miguel continued to talk, discharging more information about himself and his relationship.

  “I thought the military would be my escape from poverty, the gangs, a fucked-up life itself. I just wanted to become someone, but to join the Marines with the same demons you want to escape from only amplified the shit. I got into some heavy shit with selling military guns, and that got me a dishonorable discharge and time in lockup. But Nadia has always been there for me.”

  Max threw back a martini and listened. She didn’t care for Nadia, she cared for him. Miguel was the man she needed, in more ways than one. To hear him tell his story, it was intriguing. He looked like a bad ass, and he was.

  “I came home with nothing, and we struggled for a long time. Nadia had my back, and she was desperate to support her family. She stole someone’s identity and forged several checks for a few thousand dollars. The money got us by for a few months and kept us from being evicted. But it caught up to her, and now she’s in jail because I wasn’t man enough to just get a fuckin’ job and take care of my family. I allowed my lady to risk her freedom for the kids and me.

  “And then you came along and made it harder for us,” he added. “Nadia is not a fighter. She’s not from where I come from. She’s a good girl that’s willing to do anything for her family. She is the only reason why I’m sitting here wit’ you, ready to kill. I owe that woman a lot; I owe her everything.”

  Max sat in apathetic silence. She felt she had a more tragic tale for him. Nadia was in prison for a crime she’d committed, but Max did twenty-two years for a murder she didn’t commit.

  Miguel’s eyes were faint from the alcohol he consumed. He focused on Max, smiled awkwardly and said, “I showed you mine. Now you gotta show me yours.”

  She was still reluctant to show hers, but she felt it would not hurt anyway. “You wanna see mine?”

  “I do.” He smiled.

  Max took a deep breath and released her pain. She told Miguel about her ex-boyfriend Scott, and how much she loved him a long time ago and that he did anything for her, and she would do anything for him. He was the only man she’d ever been with. Then she went into the real pain about her life. She spoke about Scott’s infidelity with Sandy and how she felt betrayed. And then she told him about the murder Layla did and made her take the fall for it. She explained that Layla never felt an ounce of guilt for what she did to her life. Max explained Layla constantly rubbed her privileged life in her face. How could anyone do that to someone they called a friend? Max spewed to Miguel bitterly about the twenty-two years snatched from her life. She wanted to become a lawyer. She was in one of the top colleges in the city with a high GPA, and she had scholarships and loving parents who fully supported her. And all of that was taken from her in one night because of one friend and a cheating boyfriend.

  “My father died while I was in prison, and I didn’t find out about it until a month later because I was in solitary confinement,” she said.

  “Damn!”

  Max explained every sordid, dysfunctional detail to Miguel about her past—Layla, Scott, Sandy, love, hate, and finally revenge.

  “It’s why you’re going after all of them, huh?” he said.

  “My life was taken from me, so I’m going to take theirs from them, one by one,” Max said seriously.

  Miguel saw a different side of her. She was smart, sexy, and beautiful, and an entirely different woman from the one he met that day at the Port Authority Terminal.

  “I got the bill,” she said.

  ***

  He groaned, and she moaned. Miguel’s mouth latched onto Max’s hard, dark nipples, teasing them with his teeth and tongue while she rode his dick in the back seat of his Accord. Parked on a side street not too far from City Island, they fucked like there was no tomorrow. Max straddled him in the back seat, bouncing up and down against him, her breath against his, his hard erection penetrating her fully. His hands grasped her buttocks, and he pulled her closer to his sweaty frame, their exposed parts connected like Legos. The feel of her warm, wet pussy was so overwhelming for Miguel he damn near had to fight to control his release. He wanted to come inside her instantly, but his mind fought the urge.

  She whispered in his ear, “It’s been over twenty years.”

  Max’s body ached for this moment badly. It felt like she was a virgin all over again. She felt her buttocks lift in the air and come back down against him by his hands, and her pussy stretched like a rubber band from his sizable width. For her, it was an unbelievable moment. Miguel was the second guy she’d been with, and she wanted it to last.

  She ground her hips into his lap and pushed her body against his. Her thighs squeezed against his. “I’m gonna come!” she announced. “Oh shit! Oh shit!” She hummed and tightened her arms around him, feeling the climax quickly approaching. “Fuck me!” she cried out. The sensation coursing through her body was about to lift her through the roof.

  Miguel cupped her breasts again and hungrily sucked on her nipples. It took a few more deep thrusts inside of her before she finally exploded, her body quivered against his clammy skin, and she exhaled in satisfaction.

  “I’m gonna come too,” Miguel yelped. He continued to thrust upwards inside of her and was soon about to approach his point of no return. His body soon stiffened underneath her, and he
released quickly, shooting his sperm into the condom and shuddering from the sensation. Feeling like he was on an intense high, Miguel had never had it like that before. Max had put it on him. Though he loved Nadia, the sex with Max was powerful. Her pussy felt like it had been marinated for twenty-something years without a dick. Miguel knew he was a lucky man.

  Max lifted herself from his lap and collapsed in the seat next to him. She had to compose herself. The intense orgasm lingered inside of her. “That was fun,” she said simply.

  “Nice,” Miguel responded, expecting her to say something special.

  “Yes, that was fun,” she repeated nonchalantly.

  It was nice to her but mind-blowing for Miguel, whose dick was still hard.

  “I need to go,” she said.

  Miguel nodded. They dressed and climbed back into the front seat. Miguel started the car and drove off.

  Max sat back and grinned, knowing she had this man pussy-whipped. Nadia who?

  19

  The Denali came to a stop inside the sprawling scrap yard on Stillwell Avenue in Brooklyn. The doors swung open, and Meyer and Luna hurried out of the vehicle and ran toward the large office trailer nestled inside the scrap yard. The business was temporarily closed for the day, and Scott had his men situated all through the area for his protection. The attempt on his life had stirred up the hornet’s nest, and his soldiers had their stingers sharpened and ready to strike back. Meyer and Luna had heard about the attempt on Scott’s life and rushed from Delaware to New York.

  Meyer pushed his way through the security detail and stormed into the building scowling heavily. He stormed into his father’s office. “Pop, I’m right here. Who tried to kill you? Let me know, I’m on it.”

  The outburst interrupted a private conversation between Scott and Whistler, who looked at Meyer and Luna with nonchalance. Scott took a pull from his cigar and stared dispassionately at his animated son who’d just burst into the room uninvited.

  “It was Deuce, right? We on it, Pop. I’ma kill that muthafucka!” Meyer growled. “I’ve already got the Greene brothers cleaning house for us. They done took out several of Deuce’s men from Delaware to Maryland. And they’re vicious, Pop. I’ll have them come up to New York to guard you!”

  Scott removed the cigar from his lips and tapped a few ashes into the ashtray on the table nearby. He looked unruffled.

  Meyer lifted his shirt, revealing the pistol tucked in his waistband. “I’m here for you, Pop. We gonna get this muthafucka! I got ya back!”

  “Why aren’t you in Delaware overseeing my operations?” Scott asked calmly.

  “Because somebody tried to kill you! I drove here the minute I heard,” Meyer said.

  “You came here to protect me?” Scott said. “Nigga, you think this was the first time some niggas took a shot at me and tried to take my life? I’m a veteran in this game. In the end, I’m always gonna be the last man standing. And I got my men already on it.”

  “I know but—”

  “You know what, Meyer? You don’t know shit! I didn’t call for you, and I don’t need you protecting me. I need you back in Delaware handling things,” Scott said sternly.

  “You serious?” Meyer uttered.

  “Muthafucka, do you see me laughing? Get the fuck out of here, Meyer! Go do your job, and be some good to me for once. I know how to handle the people that took a shot at me. And if you ever sanction hired killers without it being green-lighted by me again, I will personally fuck you up! Cut those lunatics off! The Greene brothers will only bring heat to our organization, you dumb fuck! And I mean, fuckin’ now!”

  Meyer didn’t expect this outcome from his father. He wanted to be there for his pops and make him proud, but it seemed like he could never measure up.

  For a moment, Meyer stood in the office looking defiant. Luna stood behind him and remained silent, knowing not to get involved in the family dispute. His job was to kill on orders and protect the family. Besides, a dispute between Meyer and Scott was nothing new to him.

  Meyer pivoted and stormed out of the office. Luna followed.

  Whistler said to Scott, “I think you were a little hard on him, Scott. He was merely trying to look out for you.”

  Scott frowned at his friend. “Don’t tell me how to raise my son, Whistler. That nigga is hard-headed and impulsive. Sometimes he does more harm than good.”

  “He remind you of someone?” Whistler responded.

  Scott looked at him and didn’t respond right away. He knew who Whistler was referring to. He puffed on his cigar and uttered, “That was a long time ago.”

  “Just like Dwayne and Kevin was a long time ago,” Whistler said.

  Scott knew Whistler would eventually find out about the murders of his two soldiers. “They fucked up,” he replied.

  “They were good soldiers.”

  “On that night, they weren’t.”

  “Lately, you’ve been everywhere, Scott. It’s hard to keep up with you. Penelope got you caught up. And going to the gym in such an open area—leaving your armed security in the car—what was all that about?”

  He puffed on his cigar again and grimaced at Whistler. “It won’t happen again,” Scott said with conviction.

  “No matter what, I’m always here for you, Scott, but don’t make it difficult for everyone,” Whistler said.

  “When has it ever been easy for us?”

  Whistler said his piece, feeling that Scott was becoming impulsive again. Though he and Meyer rarely saw eye to eye, he knew Meyer was loyal and dedicated to protecting the family and the organization.

  Whistler exited the trailer and stepped foot into the scrap yard. There, he saw Meyer and Luna still parked on the grounds. Meyer was smoking a cigarette in the passenger seat, and he locked eyes with Whistler. Whistler read the boys’ expressions, and he saw nothing good happening.

  Meyer felt disrespected and hurt by his father’s words. Whistler was concerned. Scott had been criticizing and spewing harsh words toward the boy lately. Whistler was hoping Scott didn’t push his son too far over the edge. The last thing everyone needed was a civil war inside the organization.

  ***

  Deuce missed his shot, and it angered him. How did he miss Scott? He had the man dead in his sights, and he still got away. Deuce knew he jumped the gun and reacted too quickly. Impulsiveness made him sloppy, and now he knew Scott would be gunning for him, but he was undaunted. It just meant the inevitable. The only silver lining was that two of Scott’s men were killed, but they were calves, and Deuce wanted to slaughter the bull.

  He and Jimmy barely made it out of the city with their freedom. The shootout brought the police from every direction. But fortunately for them, the shooting created enough panic on the city street that the two men could camouflage themselves and flee the area.

  Deuce knew he had no one to blame but himself. But a missed kill didn’t mean defeat. It meant next time he would get right up on his target, put the gun to his head, and blow his brains out. He would not miss a second time, and Deuce was determined to get that second chance.

  Back in Delaware, Deuce found the perfect relief from his worries—drugs and pussy. After smoking several Kush blunts laced with coke, he then began drinking sizzurp. Deuce was in rare form. His eyes were bugged, his mouth and chin were twisted in opposite directions, and his heart raced. He thrust his hard dick into the young, naked stripper with vigor. He wrapped his hand around her slim neck, having her on all fours, doggy-style. He pushed down on her back and went inside of her deeply. He huffed and puffed, feeling the shaved pussy tightening around his width and feeling the young girl desperately trying to take the entire dick slamming inside of her.

  Deuce was well endowed, hanging long and stretching wide. His large meat was a sideshow for the ladies. He was very proud of it and wasn’t shy about putting it to good use. The girl cried out and
made faces that weren’t cute. It seemed like she’d taken on more than she could handle.

  He spread the stripper’s legs more and smacked her ass roughly, and his grip around her neck tightened. She couldn’t move. He was in control. It was the sex where she moved when he wanted her to move. That night, Deuce controlled everything about the young woman. If he wanted an hour long blowjob, he would get it. Fear made her submissive, and the money made her willing.

  Deuce could hear the music from the strip club blasting into the locked backroom he was in. R-Kelly and Ludacris’ “Legs Shakin’” blared, as he was enjoying his little sex slave. He rammed nine inches of hard dick inside of the slim girl from the back and continued to squeeze the back of her neck.

  Deuce’s tight hold around her neck and the way he fucked her forcefully was taking a toll on the girl. Her body couldn’t take much more of it. He smacked her ass hard, pulled her long hair, and mashed her face further against the desk, treating her like a ragdoll.

  “Ouch! Ouch! Deuce, you’re startin’ to hurt me.”

  “Bitch, shut the fuck up and take this dick!” he hollered. He squeezed her neck harder as he thrust himself roughly inside of her and smacked her ass so hard, he left a small bruise on her butt cheek. His biceps and triceps flexed as he consumed the young woman in his hold.

  Six three and weighing over two hundred and fifty pounds, he refused to let her go or relent on the powerful hold he had over her.

  The young girl had no escape from him. She cried out, “Ouch! Ouch! You’re hurtin’ me! Please, stop!”

  “Bitch, didn’t I tell you to shut the fuck up and take this dick?”

  The music coming from the strip club muffled out the girl’s cry. She was on her own and desperate for him to stop or finish quickly. “Ouch! You’re hurtin’ me!”

  Deuce was tired of her yelling. He continued to pound his big dick inside of her from the back, and as she continued to resist and scream, his anger took over. Her complaining pissed him off.