Cinco went to his closet and knelt down on the floor. As he heaved, his breath erratic, he lowered his head in despair. He felt weak and could barely focus as he pulled up the four floorboards that covered his safe. There wasn’t much in it. He didn’t shit where he ate. His real stash was nowhere in the house, but what lay inside the safe was his last chance. A black .45 was inside, safety off, ready to be fired. If he could just get to it and draw on Bree fast enough, Cinco just might make it through the night with his life.
“Hurry up, homeboy,” Bree ordered impatiently.
Cinco put the combination in and reached inside, gripping the pistol in his palm. He gripped the rosary that he wore faithfully around his neck and said a brief prayer to Mary. In one swift motion he turned around, finger curled around the trigger, but he wasn’t fast enough.
Boom!
Bree caught him in the back, causing Cinco to shoot wildly into the air before hitting the floor face-first.
Bree rushed over to the safe and his face twisted in rage. “The fuck? This muthafucka is empty!” he shouted.
“Let’s go; let’s just go now. Please!” Bleu shouted. Terror gripped her so tightly that it felt like a fist was clenching her heart. She was in over her head. Never in a million years did she think that things would take such a deadly turn for the worst.
“Shut up with all that crying! You’re freaking me the fuck out!” China shot back. “We didn’t do all this for nothing. We can’t leave empty-handed.”
Bree grimaced as he said, “We don’t have a choice.”
They rushed out of Cinco’s home and drove away into the night. “This didn’t happen tonight. Y’all hear me? We were never here,” Bree coached. Neither China nor Bleu responded. They were too consumed with their own thoughts … their own fears of the repercussions of their actions. Each of them had contributed to the downfall of a boss, and although they didn’t know how yet, they both knew that they would pay.
23
The hustle was simple. Noah had turned his stay behind bars into a lucrative opportunity. With Naomi on the outside, accepting payments from the loved ones of his fellow inmates, his system was flawless. He got paid in cash—fuck cigarettes and toiletries—Noah wanted real paper, and in return he kept heroin flowing through the prison effortlessly. With a prison guard on Noah’s payroll, he never worried about his bunk getting tossed and his stash getting discovered. He had all his bases covered, and since no one wanted their connection to a good high at risk, everyone protected him. He was king inside. He was the only one with a secure link to the outside and his peers respected him for that. Everyone had their vices … their needs … their wants. Prison stripped people of these wants and Noah had found a way to give them back. He was the king and he couldn’t wait to convert his newfound respect to the streets. When he touched down he had a plan to take the city over … all he had to do was bide his time. Until then he had a good thing going with Naomi.
As he sat in the class he found it hard to stay focused. His eyes kept diverting to the beauty at the front. They never spoke, but each time his eyes met hers they shared a silent connection. She was one of those slick chicks. Fancy, with quick wit and street smarts to match. She was arrogant in her thinking. She knew she was the shit. He did too, and he smirked as she sashayed by his desk, passing out the reading assignment that the teacher was announcing. As Naomi walked behind him she leaned down and whispered, “Stop staring, papa. If you see something you like just say something.” She moved on from him without looking back, but he was definitely looking at her. She was the type of chick who held her own so well that, when paired with a king, she made the perfect accessory. She was different from Bleu. She wasn’t fragile or square. Naomi was cut from a cloth that was no longer made. She was a thoroughbred, and he told himself that when he got out he would step to her. He couldn’t do anything for her at the moment, but when he was free and on his feet he would check for her. He had a feeling that she wouldn’t say no.
* * *
Noah heard the burner cell come to life. He was wide awake, watching the roaches as they crawled on the ceiling. He never slept. He couldn’t, not peacefully at least. He only allowed his eyes to close when he could no longer take it. He didn’t trust these niggas. Bookie was the only person on the inside Noah was sure of; everyone else was suspect. They only had love for him because of what he could do for them. He served a purpose and his customers served theirs. He didn’t confuse that for friendship or loyalty; it was business … supply and demand. He reached beneath the flimsy mattress and retrieved the phone. He knew who it was. Naomi was the only person who even had the number. His antennae went up, however, because she never called him. It was he who did the communicating. He reached out to her every time. Now that she had suddenly initiated it alarmed him. He sat up and opened up the text message.
His eyes widened when an image of her chocolate skin appeared on his screen. She was flawless in her nakedness. The pinkness of her center was wet and plump, enticing him as he felt his pulse speed up. The look of mischief in her eyes was appealing, naughty. She was good at being bad and he loved it. The message read: Maybe now that you’ve seen it, you can stop acting like you got a schoolboy crush and stay focused. Good night.
He smirked as he typed back: The crush just got bigger.
She replied: I’ve been known to break hearts. Be warned.…
He smirked as he climbed out of his bunk and positioned himself on the floor. He began his nightly routine as he lowered his body to the floor, performing push-ups. He would double his count tonight. Thanks to Naomi, he had a lot of pent-up energy that needed to be worked out. He was feeling Naomi and he was putting a plan in his mind to step to her the next time he saw her.
“That young girl got you going, huh, youngblood?” Bookie asked with a chuckle, his face buried in Moby-Dick.
“Nah, I’m good, just putting in some light work O.G.,” Noah replied vaguely.
“Yeah, whatever you say, playboy. You got one running product up in here for you, another one writing you every chance she get,” Bookie said, referring to Bleu. “It’s easy to manage two while you in here. Just make sure you ain’t baking two cakes. You can only eat one when you get out, you hear me?”
Noah tried to keep Bleu in the back of his mind, but she filled his thoughts often. He didn’t want to be the one to pull her back to Flint, so he kept his distance, remaining silent and never responding to her letters. She was too good for him, or so he thought. She’s worth more than this street shit, he thought. He had no idea how drastically Bleu had changed or the dangerous downward spiral that she was on. Naomi was attainable. She fit him and he was about to lock away any sentiments he had for Bleu in order to pursue a new chick … a bad chick. The thought of Naomi was a perfect distraction to keep his mind off the best friend he wished could be more.
* * *
Bleu awoke to an ominous feeling … a dark cloud hung over her head, raining down misery over her as she slowly pulled herself out of the bed. Flashes of the night before invaded her mind like a bad dream. That’s what that was … a dream. It couldn’t have been real, she thought groggily as she shook her head. She felt heavy, weighed down by the overwhelming emotions that filled her, but in the pit of her stomach there was that tickle … that wanting … that urge. She closed her eyes and visions of her pulling on the crack pipe attacked her mind. She gasped. That’s when it hit her. Everything that she wished was one horrible dream was actually reality. It had happened. She had let Cinco coax her into sucking on the glass dick. He had attacked her. She had called her friends to help her and they ended up killing him. It had all happened and there was no taking it back. She placed a hand over her mouth in horror. She hopped out of the bed, suddenly feeling pain as she looked down at the deep wounds that covered her legs. She ignored them as she ran out of the motel room and rushed to China and Bree’s room. Knots filled her stomach and a lump of regret clogged her throat as she banged incessantly on their door. “Open up!�
�� she shouted. When they didn’t answer she rushed to the window, framing her face with her hands as she peered inside. The room was empty, bedsheets messy, and no bags were in sight.
They left me. They can’t leave me here!!! Did they leave me?
She panicked as she hit the glass with a flat hand in frustration. She ran to the parking lot, her bare feet hitting the pavement hard as her mind slowly came to the realization that her friends had left her on stuck. She hoped that they had gone for a morning swim or that they had gone to get food, but intuition told her that they had deserted her. Bree and China weren’t coming back for her. She was on her own. When she saw that the car was nowhere to be found she fell to her knees right in the middle of the road. She didn’t know what to do. She had no one and, as fear and loneliness crept into her soul, she felt a pang of need in her gut. She had gotten a taste of the most devastating drug in the world and it was calling for her. It was telling her that it would soothe her worried heart. It would make her brave. It would help her plot her next move. It would make her feel so good. It would just.…
She sighed. Bleu wanted it so badly that her nipples hardened at the thought. She climbed to her feet and ran back to her room to gather her belongings. There was no doubt in her mind that someone had found Cinco’s body by now. Would Iman come after her? Would Cinco’s family? The cartel? Paranoia nipped at her until she found herself throwing clothes frantically into her bag. She had to get back across the border. If she could just make it to her stash she would be okay. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she threw on a leather jogging suit and wedge sneakers. She didn’t even take the time to wash the trails of mascara off of her face before she crossed her duffel bag over her body and left the room. She was scatterbrained and afraid. She couldn’t focus. She was already hooked to the high and she didn’t even know it. She was running for her life, but even if she escaped the wrath that would come behind Cinco’s murder she couldn’t escape herself.
* * *
“All this week we’re going to learn about the benefits of healthy financial credit.…”
The degree program would have actually held some weight if Noah could focus, but the things that Naomi did to entice him were a blatant distraction. She was beautiful, not in a girl-next-door type of way either. She was downright sexy and now that he was in her presence again he couldn’t get the picture of her out of his mind. Noah wanted her in the worst way. In the way that said she was his bitch. He wanted to stake his claim, but there wasn’t much that a jailbird could do with a girl like Naomi. She was the type of woman who would leave a nigga lovesick.
“A guard is going to escort you to the library one by one so that you can work with Naomi on pulling your credit report. At the end of the week we will go over each of them in class. Noah Langston … you’re up first.”
Noah stood and headed in the direction of the guard. Luckily for Noah, it was one he had on his payroll. He walked ahead of the guard while Naomi walked behind him. No one spoke. Noah knew that the eye in the sky was always on, so he played his position as the model inmate as he made his way to the library. When they entered the library Noah turned to the guard. Keeping his voice low, he said, “A little distance would be appreciated.”
The guard’s eyes moved around the empty room.
“Of course I’m a man that remembers favors,” Noah stated. “A small package under your car seat this week would suffice?”
“I’ll be outside the door. You’ve got thirty minutes before you have to be back,” the guard stated.
Noah nodded and the guard turned to leave the room. It was literally the first time in months that Noah didn’t have eyes on him. The privacy felt awkward as he instinctively looked up toward the camera. He walked toward Naomi, who was browsing through the books. The height of the wooden shelves obstructed the view of anyone who might be watching.
She felt like prey as Noah walked on one side of the shelf while gazing through the gaps in the books, trying to get a glimpse of her on the other side. Finally they met at the end and he grabbed her hand, roughly pulling her into him, his body on brick as she gasped in shock. When their lips met it was electric and his hand hungrily roamed her body, with him appreciating the feel of a woman. His hands slipped skillfully up her thighs as he slipped her panties to the side. At any minute they could be caught, but neither of them cared. It added to the intensity of it all. She wanted this. He wanted this. A thick fog of lust hung in the air as he slid into her wetness. Sheer ecstasy. That’s what her tightness felt like. It was slick with her natural honey as her strong thighs worked slightly as he held her up. They found their rhythm. It was fast, guttural, animalistic. Noah didn’t mean to be rough with her, but it had been too long since he had been inside of a woman. He was chasing the orgasm. His girth parted the delicate folds of her, causing her face to contort in pleasure. She bit her lip to stop herself from calling his name.
He buried his head in the nook of her neck as her perfume infused his senses. They were on a race to the finish line and he hoped she made it first, because he couldn’t hold out much longer. When she felt her body tense and a flood of her warmth he dug deeper, and deeper, and harder, until—
“Shit, ma,” he whispered as he placed his forehead against hers as he spilled his seed inside of her. They both panted, out of breath, as they adjusted their clothes.
“Don’t fall in love,” she said. She pecked him on the lips and gave him a flirtatious smile before sashaying out of the room.
“We’re done here,” she told the guard as she disappeared into the hall.
Noah wiped his goatee as he smirked to himself. She was so hard, so real. He had to have it. She wasn’t the type of chick you could take score on. He had smashed, but you couldn’t count that as a win. She was too seasoned, too unattached, too thorough to see it as anything more than what it was … sex. The only way to conquer her was to capture her heart. He saw through the tough visage. He knew that if he was wise he would heed her warning, but he wanted her and he would have her. It was only a matter of time.
24
The only time Bleu could calm the craving was when she was unconscious, so she slept as the bus drove her back to L.A. The nightmares of what had occurred plagued her sleep, but still she didn’t want to open her eyes. The entire way she told herself that she would never smoke again, but her bubbling gut told her otherwise. It was only a matter of time before she indulged again. Even if it was only to take the sting of reality away … she wanted it. Filled with nervous energy, she climbed off the bus, looking over her shoulder as she made her way to her parked car. The darkness enveloped the parking structure as she made her way up the ramp. She stopped walking briefly, rummaging through her bag to find her keys, but when she heard footsteps behind her she froze. She spun on her heels as a sudden fear seized her. With one hand in her bag, clutching the small vial of pepper spray, her heart pounded. The echoes of footsteps stopped. She looked around frantically, wondering how many of Cinco’s goons had come to avenge him. She sped up, half-running, half-walking, as she tried to get to her car.
“Hey!” The voice behind her was a harsh whisper, and when she looked back a hooded figure was walking toward her in haste. She took off at a full sprint, popping her locks repeatedly. Her heart had never beaten so fast as she opened the door and hopped inside, trying to pull the door closed.
“Hey! Hey! Chill the fuck out; it’s me!” The man appeared at her side, pulling the door open violently before she got a chance to lock it.
“Bree!” she shouted, half-pissed, half-relieved, as she got out of the car and pushed him in frustration. “What the fuck?! Why did y’all leave me there?! Where the fuck is China?” Bleu couldn’t control her volume as her emotions took over. Her fear dissipated into anger.
Bree gripped her by both arms, shaking her. “Chill the fuck out!” he barked.
“Don’t tell me to fucking chill,” she spat as she snatched herself away from him. “Y’all left me in Mexico after we—”
>
“I said we don’t talk about that,” Bree interrupted, fire dancing in his eyes, threatening to slap the shit out of her if she dared to speak of the dirty deeds they had committed. “That bitch beat me for my bread, hid my passport, and left me in Mexico. I need to hold something.”
“You leave me on stuck and now you want to hold something? You got me really fucked up, Bree. Kick rocks,” she said as she got back in her car and attempted to close the door.
“What if I get you some of that shit you was on?” Bree asked, stopping her in her tracks. The glint in her eyes gave her away and Bree knew he had her. “That wasn’t no meth you was on, Detroit. What was it? Heroin or crack?” he asked.
Her lip quivered as embarrassment filled her. “I don’t know what you talking about; move,” she said, attempting to pull her door shut.
He forced it open. “Don’t front, Bleu. You’re edgy, jumpy. I can see that you want it. Your eyes got big as golf balls from the thought,” he said. “I move dope; you think I don’t know that look?”
“How much do you need?” she asked, willing to sell her soul to the devil for just another little taste.
“Just a few thousand to get out of town,” Bree stated.
She could have easily spent $20 to buy a hit, but she didn’t know where to go or who to see and, more important, she was too embarrassed to walk up to someone and buy it herself. So she would give Bree what he asked for, just to save face.
“I want my shit first,” she snapped.
* * *
When Bleu pulled up to skid row she gripped the steering wheel as her anxiety caused her chest to tighten. Bree looked over at her, feeling slightly guilty, but he still popped open the car door and sauntered down the block in search of someone to cop from.
Bleu shook, she was so terrified. The fact that she wanted a fix so badly made tears come to her eyes. She looked down the alley. There were hundreds of people, huddled sadly along the city street. Most of them were drunks or addicts, some just down on their luck, all of them thrown away by society. She jumped when a woman tapped on her window. Bleu looked out but didn’t roll down the window. The woman’s bloodshot eyes stared into Bleu’s, her clothes filthy, her hair stringy and greasy, her lips so dry they were bleeding and cracked. Bleu was staring into the eyes of a fiend, and she couldn’t help but wonder if her mother looked anything like this woman by now. She was witnessing what crack would do to her. It was right there staring her in the face, warning her not to ever take another hit, and still she had the urge. It was like an irritating itch that she just had to scratch. A tear fell down her face because she just wanted not to feel. She didn’t want to feel the disappointment from failing at UCLA or the heartbreak from trusting Iman. She didn’t want to miss Noah’s presence in her life. She didn’t want to feel … period. Crack was like a happy pill. It filled her to the brim with an orgasmic rush. The only problem was, it didn’t last long enough. She had to constantly feed her high in order to maintain her vibe. Damn, I hope he gets enough, she thought. She rolled down her window.
Luxe Page 22
