I knew Camo hopped houses a lot, but he stayed here with Digby most times. Ignoring the muthafuckas in the living room, looking like some punk bitches, I made my way to the back bedrooms, bursting into the one that had the door closed.
“Ah!” some bitch screamed when I yanked her off Camo’s dick by her hair, and let her roll off the bed and hit the floor.
“Ricky!” Camo yowled, snatching the sheet to cover himself once we made eye contact.
“Get yo’ ass up, we about to go for a ride, nigga,” I hissed. When I felt that bitch looking at me, I turned to face her, and she hopped up like the floor was on fire and darted out. Musty pussy having ass. This room smelled fucking horrible.
“Man, what the fuck is this shit about?” Camo quizzed.
“I’ll be outside waiting.” I left the bedroom and the house, then went to sit in my car that I usually drove when I was just rolling and doing bullshit; my brown 1968 Dodge Charger. I had a blue one too, but that was my nicer one.
As I sat in my whip, I turned some music on and let it play as I fired up a blunt. Inhaling on it, I held it in my lungs when I felt someone by my car. Looking to my right, I spotted old girl that I’d snatched up inside.
“How you doing, Ricky?” She smiled seductively, her hands were cupping the door since the window was down.
“Get yo’ hands off my car. I know you don’t wash them shits if ya pussy smells like onions.”
“You so crazy.” She laughed. “But my bad, daddy.”
I took another toke on the blunt, and then looked behind her to see Camo finally coming out the house. I saw him conversing with Digby after he asked what happened to his head.
HONK!
I blew my horn to let that nigga know to hurry up.
“So when you bring Camo back, can I have a little bit of your time? I’m Alisha.” She chuckled for some reason.
“No, and I don’t care.”
“You sure? I give the best head in Southern California, Ricky AK.”
“Must be why I smell a public restroom every time you talk. Back the fuck up from my whip and go brush yo’ damn tongue.”
Shocked, she stared at me with her mouth agape, before Camo gripped her arm and pulled her back so he could get in my car.
Once he was in, I sped off with my music loud.
“You gon’ tell me why—”
“Don’t talk.” I turned my music up louder, and dipped through the streets of South Central with the windows down. The weed I was smoking on was some good shit, calming me down a little bit.
“Ricky AK! Oh my gosh!” some thots screamed at the red light I was at, and I just gave them a quick smile before putting the blunt back to my lips and speeding off.
We drove for about twenty minutes, and finally, I was out of South Central and in a deserted area as planned.
“Get out,” I told Camo. He hesitated, but then followed me. Once we were in the grass, I said, “I got some murder charges filed against me. You know anything about that?”
“Uh, nah, man, I don’t.”
“So you ain’t seen nothing on the news?” I glanced his way.
“Oh well, yeah.”
“So why you lie?” I pulled my gun from my waist.
“I didn’t lie, man, I just forgot. But nah, I don’t know shit about that robbery! I swear to God! I’ve just been trying to chill, and be more laid back. I’ve honestly been wanting to be cool again, so why would I do this to you? Come on, man, you know—”
“Shut yo’ bitch ass up. Sounding like a damn newborn with all that fucking crying and shit,” I hissed, staring at my gun. Looking down at my gun, shit finally clicked for me. “Get back in the car.”
Camo followed after me, and once in my car, I sped off, flooring the shit until I got him back to Digby’s. Camo was a free man for now, but if I found out anything, I was killing his ass. I wasn’t gon’ kill him now anyway, even if I wanted to, because too many muthafuckas saw me. Granted, snitching got you murked where I was from, but what good would that retaliation be if I ended up behind bars? This whole shit was to prevent just that. I’ve never been a sloppy ass killer, and I wasn’t gon’ start now.
After dropping hoe ass Camo back off at that musty ass crib, I sped straight to Bryen’s apartment. Looking at my gun made me think about that baby Glock that was found, and the only nigga I knew that carried one faithfully was Bryen’s bitch ass. If this nigga had set me up, I was murdering his ass. Sorry Grandma.
I got to Bryen’s apartment, and rushed right up the stairs to his door. I tampered with his knob, and broke into that shit because I wanted to creep up on his ass. But when I stepped inside, some brown-skinned dude in a business shirt and slacks was on the couch watching the game.
Turning to me with a smile, he said, “Mr. Montana, how are you? Looking for your brother?” He rose to his feet and closed the newspaper he’d been looking at while watching TV.
“Fuck are you?” I questioned, ignoring his attempt to shake my hand.
“Lieutenant Atticus Martín.” He folded his arms. “Bryen isn’t here at the moment, and umm… won’t be around until after the case. We have him in witness protection. He’s our key witness in your case.”
“Ain’t you supposed to keep that a secret?”
Shrugging, he replied, “Typically, I guess, but I know you’re not dumb enough to kill him after what I just told you.”
“You right.” I smiled. I was gon’ kill Bryen’s bitch ass if I wanted to, and trust, I’d get away with it; in witness protection or not.
“In the meantime, care to join me for a beer? Maybe talk a little bit.”
“Bruh, the only reason I haven’t knocked yo’ fucking head off is because I got enough charges against me. I don’t need another one for beating the brakes off a nigga who ain’t got shit better to do. Go home and fuck ya wife before I get one of the homies to do it.”
Flaring his nostrils, he pointed his finger. “Little nigga—”
Laughing, I cut him off. “Don’t do it. I’m crazy,” I warned honestly while shaking my head.
I was truthfully trying to save this nigga’s life. Yeah, he was willing to do the most to take me down for whatever reason, but he wasn’t willing to get his ass whooped or die for it. My warning apparently worked, because instead of finishing, he just opened the front door, gesturing for me to leave.
I did leave, and as I drove, I kept running that detective’s name through my head. My grandma calling interrupted my thoughts, and when I answered, it was just her asking me to come see why her dryer wasn’t working. I hated that she always called me for shit like that, as if she couldn’t call someone who did this shit for a living.
I got to my grandma’s a little bit later, and she was frantic as hell about the damn dryer.
“Frederick, my clothes are still damp when I take them out! Only time it completely dries is when it’s my bras or something small!”
“Aight, aight,” I replied as I surveyed it. Looking inside, I saw a dryer sheet was covering the vent, so I sucked my teeth and snatched it off. “This is ya damn problem, Ma.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “Thanks, baby, you’re so sweet.” I leaned down so she could kiss my cheek.
“Yeah, aight.”
I left her washroom and walked past her office, but stopped. Checking over my shoulder to make sure she was still in there, I dipped into the office and went right to her files. She always kept file folders for everyone, ever since I was in like sixth grade. It was her way of keeping our shit organized.
When I saw one with my mother’s name on it, I grabbed it out and placed it on the desk, opened. Sifting through the documents, I saw a paper from the police department and began to read. The name Atticus Martín stuck out like a sore thumb; he and another person were the leading detectives on my mother’s murder.
“What are you doing?” my grandmother quizzed.
“This nigga on this case … he’s on my shit too,” I said as she reached for it. I pulled it from he
r ass though. “Who the fuck is he? Why is he on this case, and then now, all of sudden is after me? And working with Bryen? Who is this nigga!” I was angry as fuck, but mainly because I was confused. I was a pretty smart nigga, so rarely was I unaware, but when I was, it infuriated me.
“A detective! Just a damn detective! Frederick Montana, give me that paper back!”
“No!”
“She is my child! I will not let you have it!”
“And she’s my muthafuckin’ mama! So unless you gon’ give up the fucking details and help me figure some shit out, this fucking paper is mine!” I roared. I ain’t like yelling at my grandma, but she had me fucked up.
“Frederick, leave this shit alone! Please!” she pleaded as I walked past her, whole file folder in my hands.
“Nah, fuck that! And I better not find out you had shit to do with this either! If you got some shit to hide, hide it. And whatever the fuck you’ve been hiding, hide it better because I’m coming for every muthafucka that had a hand in this,” I gritted before leaving.
“Ricky! Frederick, come back here!”
I ignored her calls as I left the house. I loved my grandma, but if she’d played me, it’d be a problem. I ain’t wanna believe she had something to do with it, but if Draylah’s aunt would have her own sister killed for money, then I couldn’t put shit past anybody.
Chapter Five: Jason “Frisk” Hensen
That same night …
Me: What you got on?
V: Why don’t you come find out?
Me: Oh you putting out now?
V: Nope, but you can see what I have on.
Me: Aight bet.
“Who the fuck have you been texting all damn night, Jason!” this girl I’d been fucking with heavily named Charmaine yelled as she snatched my iPhone.
“Man, chill, and give me back my shit!” I grabbed it back from her.
I’d been smashing Charmaine heavily for the past six or something months. We wasn’t in no relationship or nothing like that, but shit was cool. I could fuck her and any other bitch I wanted, but she couldn’t do the same.
However, lately, it’d just been the two of us. I admit I had slipped up and started giving her that girlfriend treatment, but despite my actions, my words stayed the same; she wasn’t my girl exclusively, only her pussy was.
“You better not be talking to no bitch! Ever since you got that new assistant and that new record contract, your ass has been acting brand new,” Charmaine ranted, saying the same shit she always said.
“Ain’t nobody acting brand new. I’m texting about some business with Virginia. That’s all it is between her and me, I promise.”
“Let me see then, Jason.” Charmaine put her hand out, cute ass face all frowned up.
Charmaine was bad as hell, with her light bright ass and long brown locs. Her body was stacked, which wasn’t a surprise since I found her ass at Ace of Diamonds, and her pussy was even better. But I wasn’t looking to be tied down just yet, because there were way too many beautiful women in the world for that. By saying that, I needed my freedom to fuck on whomever and whenever.
“You ain’t looking in my damn phone, Charmaine.” I pocketed it. “Fuck do I have to lie for?”
“I don’t know, nigga, but you ain’t about to be playing me. I blew up my whole damn life for you, and it better not be for nothing!”
Oh yeah, Charmaine had a nigga when I met her, her son’s father, but she left his ass for me. He was one of those straight-laced cats, with the nine-to-five job, and an undergrad degree. I ain’t tell her to leave his ass, but I didn’t say not to either. And in my opinion, she clearly wasn’t feeling his ass like that if she would so easily drop him for me.
But once they broke up, old boy moved to Colorado since the cost of living was cheaper, and took their son. Occasionally, Charmaine would go out there and visit her kid though.
“Here yo’ ass go with that shit. Chill out, aight?” I stood up before heading upstairs to shower.
Shit, regardless of what Charmaine was talking about, I was going to see Virginia’s fine ass tonight. I didn’t know what it was about her besides her sexy ass body and beautiful face, but she had me a little thirsty. No female had been able to really capture my attention since Charmaine, but Virginia definitely did.
In the past, I was never what you called a womanizer in my opinion. I dated here and there, and if I liked something enough, I stuck around. That was all because of this bitch named Haleigh.
Haleigh and I met when we were in seventh grade, and ever since then, I’d had a little crush on her ass. Nothing came of it because, of course, at that age, niggas weren’t really trying to be in no relationship. It was more of just crushing on different muthafuckas. But when I got to Westchester High School and found out baby girl attended too, it was on.
I swear, from the first day of school all the way until the last day of senior year, that was my baby. I loved the fuck out of Haleigh’s pretty ass, and would do anything for her. But she obviously didn’t feel the same because she got accepted to Cornell University and ran her ass off to New York simply because her father told her to. His ass hated me because I told him after high school I was gon’ focus on music and not go to college. I was cool peoples until he found out I was taking the rap shit seriously.
What pissed me off the most was that Haleigh and I had already talked and she’d agreed to go to Cal State Long Beach out here in California so that we could be together, but her ass ended up betraying me. She didn’t even wanna go to Cornell, but she had always been one of them females who hated to disappoint her parents; namely, her weak ass pops. After Haleigh, I really didn’t fuck with relationships; I was on some stick and go shit.
“Where are you about to go?” Charmaine quizzed when she saw me walk past the living room area dressed up.
“Studio,” I replied dryly, making sure not a hair was out of place in the mirror in the hallway.
“Can I come?”
“Nah, you can’t. It’s gon’ be a bunch of niggas, and I ain’t trying to have them drooling over you and shit,” I lied. My attention had solely become focused on Virginia at the moment, so the thought of niggas looking at Charmaine didn’t bother me too much.
Charmaine nodded with a smile at my answer; women loved to think a nigga was jealous, so that’s why I always used excuses like that. Long as she felt you cared enough to act a fool over her, she was good.
I hopped into my BMW 7 Series, and whipped out the driveway of my crib in West Hollywood. I was coming up, but my money wasn’t as mature yet to be living like the rest of the Head Honcho niggas, outside of Butch and Flow. But I’d be there soon, and I couldn’t wait.
I made it to Virginia’s condo and parked in the driveway behind her whip. Pulling out my phone, I texted her to let her know I had arrived, and then waited until I saw a shadow come near her front window. Her crib was pretty aight looking, and I was surprised because I’d expected her to be living more lavishly and getting more bread from Ricky AK’s deejay.
“Hey, are you hungry?” Virginia smiled once I got to her door. I snaked my arm around her small waist and pulled her in for a sensual hug.
“It depends on what you got for me.” I licked my lips and then slipped past her as she smiled.
“It’s just spaghetti, but I make the best on the West Coast.”
“Oh, word?” I asked, letting my eyes survey her living room before sitting down. Upon my eye search, I spotted an Xbox, which prompted me to ask, “This ya game system?” I mean, I knew a few females who played video games, but Virginia didn’t rub me as that type.
“Oh.” She entered the living room with two plates. “That’s my ex’s game system. How much do you think I can get for it?” She sat next to me as she placed the food on the coffee table.
“Damn, you gon’ sell his shit? What he do to you?” I was a little salty knowing she had an ex that she’d clearly just broken up with. Usually, that shit meant that he could easily come slithering ba
ck, and I was too into this girl to let that happen at the moment.
“Too much. We dated for a while and he had a bad drinking problem that just got worse and worse. Of course, with drinking comes crazy behavior and all that. It was just a bad relationship from day one, and we should have been broken up years ago.”
I finished chewing my food as I looked her up and down, watching her twirl the spaghetti on her fork. She was right; this shit was the best I’d ever had.
“Where he at now?”
“He’s in jail for a hit and run. He’s awaiting some sort of trial I guess, I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on with him, and I really don’t care.”
“Good,” I replied before we laughed in unison.
“So have you ever been in a relationship, or have you just been riding the wave like most of these L.A. niggas who are trash?”
Laughing, I questioned, “Why are L.A. niggas trash?”
“Because they’re either psycho as hell or a fuck boy who is pretending to be great but really got five kids and a wife hidden somewhere.” She shoved some more food into her mouth as I chortled. “Answer the question though.” She covered her mouth as she spoke.
“Well, first off, I’m neither one of those, and secondly, nah, I’ve never been in a relationship,” I lied. No need to bring up Haleigh because that was damn years ago. I hated talking about that shit anyway. And Charmaine didn’t count.
“Wow, I don’t know how to feel about that.”
“I mean, that’s why you just gotta chill and let things flow. If it works out, it works out, you know?”
Virginia squinted her eyes as she placed her wine glass to her lips. She was so damn pretty, making me bite down on my lip as I watched her.
“Okay, well, before this goes any further, we should get some things straight.” She cleared her throat. “I’m not looking for a fuck buddy, a guy to lead me on for a couple years, or anything of the sort. I want a relationship, one that is gonna build overtime. So if that’s not really something you’re interested in then…”
She Got It Bad for a Heartless Gangsta Page 15
