“I’m trying to get something lined up. When you get back to watch the girls I can have more freedom to make a move.” She hoped for more time.
“Oh, you can send they asses to bed right goddamn now. I ain’t for all that loud playing and running through the house nonsense you allow anyhow. Fuck that, good night,” he shouted through the almost bare house to his daughters. Savannah and Samantha unfortunately got to see their deadbeat dad do absolutely nothing but abuse them.
“Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Bonnie bowed to his request but wished she didn’t have to. Already being a horrible, “give less than a fuck” mother, the one thing she did allow her little ones to do was play, laugh, and enjoy being children. It was only six and they’d taken a nap so she was sure they were still wired to go for hours. But to bed for the day they’d go. “Get in this house, Samantha, time to go night-night.”
Chapter 3
Banko’s reputation was unblemished and his name carried heavy weight in the streets. He’d singlehandedly shut the pill game in Detroit down running a few illegal pharmacy spots throughout the city. Never having generic brands, he thrived off heads looking to pop the absolute best in large amounts. Having made it out of the Sojourner Truth Homes, pushing his own soldiers up and through the townhouses now, he’d arrived but was now carrying the dead weight of Rello heavy on his shoulders.
Grabbing an ice-cold Budweiser from the stainless steel fridge, he unzipped the duffel bag of cash Rello left on the counter before jetting up the back staircase. He already knew his knuckleheaded nephew was guilty of ripping off a few bills, but for what was the question he wanted an answer to.
Banko hated having his sister’s son in his home, but felt it was his job as a man since she was a single mom with issues. Patrice had chosen a loser as a baby daddy who was more addicted to drugs than handling his responsibilities. When he became more of a liability to Patrice and her son than an asset, Banko ran him away with death threats promised to be carried out if he returned. He didn’t want his sister coupled with a woman-beating junkie. Patrice raised Rello the best she could singlehandedly until his testosterone took over, then passed her one and only child to her brother to be groomed into a man. Granted he’d taken Rello in without a qualm; but his faith was diminishing daily that his knuckleheaded nephew could follow in his footsteps within the game. Yet and still, Banko tried drilling his street knowledge and hood cred down to his only male bloodline left.
“Hey yo, Rello, get down here so we can chop it up for a few, nephew,” Banko yelled upstairs, taking a seat at his breakfast bar. Eyeing the rubber-banded stacks, Banko had been in the game long enough to know his cash had been tampered with. Separating them into three neat stacks—his payout, re-up, and savings portions—he shorted Rello’s payout since he’d already gotten his share off top. He knew his nephew would never speak up or admit for trying to get down behind his back; but he still dared him to speak up.
“What up, Unc?” Rello appeared with a lit joint in his hand, coughing and clouding up the room.
“Put that shit out in my house, boy. You know the rules.” A perplexed Banko fanned the smoke from his personal space. Selling drugs to his people was one thing God would judge him for on his day but destroying his own temple wasn’t an option his educated mind could fathom. He allowed Rello to smoke within the confines of the guest room he stayed in, window open and fan on; but to walk freely around the house, polluting it with weed smoke, was most definitely not allowed.
“My bad, Unc, but you ought to hit this shit.” Rello laughed, puffing on it once more before putting it out in the sink.
Banko frowned, hating the disrespect Rello unintentionally showed. He couldn’t understand why the young’un couldn’t respect the rules, even right in front of his face. Cats in the street were afraid to cross Banko’s path but Rello seemed to be too careless or too caught up in being his only sister’s only son to give a fuck.
“Yeah, about that, Rell, you can’t keep pinching off my crops. It’s enough that I feed, clothe, and take care of your mooching ass. But you’re starting to bite the hand that feeds you.” Banko was ready to sit his blood relation on the streets. He’d only lasted this long off the strength of his sister; but he refused to go broke or in the hole trying to teach Rello the ropes.
“I could work my own shit off if you wouldn’t hold out on the work. I’m trying to eat and live just like you,” he truthfully responded. Rello admired his uncle’s lifestyle, the pretty women, and the amount of respect hustlers gave him upon contact. He would do anything to be the underboss to Banko. All he wanted was his once chance.
“That’s supposed to be the plan but I’ve gotta trust you out here moving behind my name, Rello. You don’t take the reputation I’ve got out here serious. You think it’s all glitz and glam but I move weight and deal with demons.” Banko took a swig from his beer, staring his nephew up and down.
“I’ve been around you, Unc. I see how you move in the streets.”
Banko stared his worthless nephew up and down wondering if he’d ever amount to anything worth bragging about. “I’m in the perfect position to set you up swell, Rello, but you must prove you’re ready. I can’t keep nursing you like a little boy.”
“Then let me swang my own nuts.” Rello threw his hands up. “My momma sent me here to learn how to be a man from you, so teach me.”
Banko walked to the fridge, moving Rello from in his path along the way, then handed his nephew a cold beer. Regretting the words before they left his mouth, he couldn’t resist the urge to put his family on. Banko knew he was a hated man in the streets and desperately needed a solid and loyal team to roll behind him.
“I’ve got a package in Chicago that needs to be picked up tomorrow night; and it’s dummy proof. All you gotta do is show up at my manz’ house with the payout card, collect my product, and make it home. Handle this right and we’ll see about more work. Fuck this up, and you’re done.”
Rello didn’t inquire about the driver he was replacing. Fuck another nigga going broke. It’s finally my time and I’m going for mine. “A’ight bet. I ain’t gonna fuck it up, Unc. Rest assured I’m gonna move swift, clean, and just as efficient as you would. When should I be ready to hit the road?”
Enthusiastic to get in the game, Rello wasted no time interrogating Banko for the details. He wanted to make sure he thoroughly understood what was to go down. Banko was surprised; nonetheless, he was finding comfort in Rello taking the task so serious. To Rello though, a lot was on the line and if he played his cards right, he didn’t have to stunt throughout town or with Star.
Being a man of all connections, Banko had a chick at Enterprise who would supply the gas-economic sedan. He set everything up in front of Rello’s face, including the hotel accommodations; all of was done with prepaid credit cards.
“I don’t want to hear another word about being inducted into the game if you fuck up my money or my connection, Rello. This is your starting point; please don’t let it be your exiting, too. The game you played with me today won’t be tolerated again,” Banko spoke with certainty. He knew the route to and from Chicago like the back of his hand and exactly how much payout was in product by sight. He planned to completely cut Rello off if the count or product was short or inaccurate.
“I got you, Unc. You better believe I won’t be fucking it up.”
The two sat back going over the exact details of Rello’s first highway run. Banko would use him in the near future frequently if he proved his status and loyalty. Thus far things had been shaky but all family is worth some love. The plan was for Rello to dip out in a few hours, stay the day riding hoods of the city for potential growth for Banko, and finally picking up the package. If executed successfully, Rello was promised $1,000 upon delivery.
“Here’s the prepaid card for my package, gas money, and the car keys. The room has been reserved under your name, completely paid for already. Upon check-in, be sure to use the hotel services and fit in among the othe
r guests. You are not to stand out like by acting all ghetto,” Banko warned, handing him an envelope of $1,000 spending cash. He knew that would be more than enough but wanted his nephew to sip some of the good life while out of town on business.
“Cool. I’m about to pack a light bag and be out.” Rello jumped up anxious to accept his first mission. There was no apprehension on his end. He was about to stunt extra hard on gullible Star.
Banko dug his phone from out of his pocket as soon as Rello got out of ear distance, hitting send twice. It was time to let his Chi-Town connect know things were in motion.
Bonnie walked into the corner liquor store with her skirt hiked up and her plastic high heels freshly glued back together. She spent as minimal as possible on clothes so she could keep her and Jerome high. “Hey, Hassan, tell ya daddy I’m here and ain’t got all day,” she rudely spat.
No one in her phone wanted a quick session but Ali; and he tricked with every cheap prostitute from the neighborhood. When Hassan went to the back to get his father, Bonnie darted down one of the aisles for a pack of tampons. She’d been fresh out and using tissue in her panties but knew it wasn’t in her best interest to go out with Ali like that. When Ali and Hassan took a minute longer than what she’d expected, she opened the seal of a wine cooler then propped herself up against the counter.
“Bonnie, you know I’m gonna have to work you extra or charge you for that beverage,” Ali greeted her with his thick Arabic accent.
“You already know I work for mine, Ali. And in that case, I’ll take a bottle of some top-shelf liquor and these snacks for my little ones.” Bonnie flipped it on him.
Ali stood by the door with his penis getting hard within his drawers. He knew very well Bonnie worked for hers and wasn’t prude when it came to the filthy things he was allowed to do to her. He didn’t respect black women and whenever they were down on their luck, he used their disadvantages to his advantage. Ali gave his son the nod to bag up all of the snacks his reoccurring prostitute was stocking up on totaling the bill in his head.
“Yeah, you’ll be working, if that’s what you wanna call it, for hours.” Smoking wasn’t allowed in the store but being the owner, he did it anyway. Puffing out the inhaled stream of nicotine smoke, Ali waved for both his son and Bonnie to hurry.
“I’m looking to make your day.” She hiked her already too small skirt up, giving him more of a candid view.
“Get in. I ain’t got all day.” Turning his eyes back toward the store, he hoped his son could hold it down while he was off satisfying his needs with the cheap hooker. Not giving it too much thought, he hopped in the driver’s seat headed toward the short stay.
Chapter 4
It was a live night in the hood. Everyone worth mentioning was out getting ready to vamp including hot girl Star and her homegirl Tanisha. The two were known as running buddies, cut from the same cloth, not worried about getting bad reps. Each dressed just as scanty as the other; Star proudly rocked her fresh custom kicks, a denim pair of booty shorts that barely concealed her juicy cheeks, and a baby white tee. Since Rello was obviously on the same tip as last night, Star didn’t slow up at her attempts to get on with other boys. Taking walking to the corner liquor store seriously, both girls strutted like skilled prostitutes catching eyes with every wannabe hood star and old washed-up legend. Star loved the attention, and was known to throw ass around from time to time if the price was right.
“Let me get a fifth of Seagram’s Gin, cold if you got it.” Setting her knockoff Gucci bag onto the counter, she searched for one of the twenty-dollar bills she’d worked for earlier. “And all the snacks this greedy heifer picked up.” She pointed to Tanisha.
“Let me see your ID, Star.” Behind the Plexiglas counter, the store owner’s son Hassan grinned. He knew the young girl hadn’t left her teenage years yet, which meant she was easy bait to prey on for his needs.
“Aw, man, are you for real? Are you about to be like that? Where’s your father at today?” Star wasn’t up to getting harassed by Hassan. She knew what trick bag he was coming up out of since he flirted with her from time to time. She usually made it out of the store without being hassled, though it seemed tonight would be much different.
“He’s not here tonight, which means I’m calling the shots. And I need to make sure you’re legal.”
“Okay, here then.” Sliding her state identification card over, proving her to only be nineteen, Hassan held her card up with pride and a grin only a con artist could bear.
“Now tell me why I should risk getting in trouble for your underage ass?” Staring her up and down, fixated on the rounded curves of Star’s body, he wanted nothing more than to use what little clout he had to his advantage. Leaning down onto the counter, he made his suggestion more suggestive and clear.
“I’m not asking you to get in trouble, Hassan. What I’m asking for is that bottle. And I’ve got enough cash to pay my tab.”
“Yeah, but you’re not old enough to buy liquor out of this store, so it looks like you need a favor. And around here, you already know one hand washes the other.” Hassan wanted the same treatment his father had been privileged to many times before.
“Fuck it then, sand nigga. What up? I ain’t got all night.” Smacking her lips, stepping back out of line, Star knew what was up. She’d gotten down with his dad on the regular for him not turning her in for trying to cash a bad check. So she’d already learned the disrespect his kind had for young black women.
“So you about to get down and dirty with ol’ boy? How long are you gonna be? Because I can walk back to the crib,” Tanisha questioned Star, annoyed he hadn’t tried to get some from her. This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours she’d seen Star pull a man with access to cash.
“Chick, please, not for a bottle of bumpy. By the time you finish popping open a handful of sunflower seeds, I’ll be wrapping up.”
Familiar with the routine, Star made her way to the rear of the store waiting on Hassan to clear out the other customers in line. Walking past his younger brother, old enough to be Savannah’s age, she felt a little shame because he’d seen her go into this same stock room with his dad a few weeks ago. Keeping her face low, she didn’t want Savannah to suffer from the same cruel jokes she was bullied with as a child behind Bonnie’s promiscuous behavior.
Clutching the bottle of gin like a trophy, Hassan unlocked the stockroom door and allowed her to walk in before him. Smacking her on her plump behind for disrespect, he loved to fool around with the young, misfortunate girls in the hood. His father owned several liquor stores throughout metro Detroit and he harassed females who were short on their tabs, wanted freebies, or looked downright sleazy every chance he got. Like father like son, and soon the little brother would walk the same path. “Lift that shirt up; let me suck on them fluffy tits and fat-ass nipples my dad be talking about.” Grabbing at his tiny pudgy penis, Hassan licked his lips in anticipation. He loved a voluptuous rack, especially a chocolate one.
“Hold up.” Star threw her finger up rolling her eyes. “You ain’t about to be doing all that for this little-ass bottle. You’ve got five minutes and not a second longer.” Annoyed but not feeling she had a choice, Star lifted her shirt then unfastened her bra.
“Shut up and jack this penis. Women are meant to do as they’re told, not as they want. Don’t be back here trying to act like your black ass runs something.”
Unfastening his brown-colored slacks, Hassan let them fall to the floor then flashed and waved his squishy dick. Cornering her, he ravaged her large breasts suckling like a newborn. Star stared blankly at the large chip boxes and soda pop cradles. Nothing Hassan did sexually turned her hormonal body on. The more Hassan gobbled to make sure his needs were met, the more Star’s panties dried up.
After a few minutes of being repulsed, Star pushed him up off her. “All right, time’s up, Hassan. You’ve gotten enough of a taste.”
“Hold up, give me a second. Jump up and down, turn around and b
ounce that booty for me.” Jacking his manhood a few times, Hassan was turned on by her willingness to be degraded so much that he released a nut into his own hand. “Now you can go.”
“Ugh hell naw, you’re disgusting.” Star twisted her face up laughing. Picking up the bottle of gin she’d originally come for, she spun to walk out the door but was thrown off when he snatched the bottle from out her hand.
“That was to let you buy the gin. I don’t remember discussing anything about letting you have it for free.” He smirked, imitating the same laugh she’d just mocked him with. Wiping his cum filled hand across her arm, he then grabbed his crotch to see how far she’d go.
Star was vexed when she realized the trick bag Hassan had stuffed her in. Hawking up a big glob of saliva, she spat on the floor before digging into her purse for the original twenty dollar bill she tried paying with in the first place. “You ain’t shit like your daddy, li’l fella.” Pointing at his dick, she made sure to let him know he wasn’t working with much of anything before tossing the twenty onto the floor. “Give me my shit.” Snatching her bottle walking out, Star slammed the door behind her demanding the attention of everyone in the store. “Come on, Tanisha; let’s get the fuck up out of here. That Arab-ass clown got me fucked up.”
Star didn’t slow down marching out of the store, knocking bags of chips and candy bars over on her way out the door. She knew Hassan was too trifling and guilty to call the police, not with Tanisha and the few other straggler customers knowing what was about to go down in the first place as witnesses.
Hassan could’ve given her the ten dollar bottle of cheap liquor if not something better for leaving his plaque and tarter breath on her body. But to him, Star wasn’t nothing but a reoccurring piece of fast black tail to his father who needed a little more downgrading in her life. Their family wasn’t about giving freebies.
Girls From Da Hood 10 Page 29
