Satisfied that I’m ready, I flash Baby a smile. “Wish me luck.”
“No,” Baby says in a flat voice. “I’ll do no such thing.”
I shrug off Baby’s disapproval and hurry out to the VIP room. But Python isn’t the only one waiting for me. It was him, a nigga named Tyga, and McGriff. I didn’t have to be Einstein to know that I’m the entertainment for an important meeting. For a second, I’m power struck, wondering who I should dance for first when the decision is made for me.
“Damn, girl,” McGriff says, turning his attention from Python. “Don’t just stand there. Get over here and give me a sample of that mean head game niggas been bragging about.” He unzips his fly and surprises me with a dick that has to be the same size as a school ruler.
Fat too.
No wonder his girl, Kookie, be walking bowlegged.
Three sets of eyes shift to me, waiting to see what I’m gone do. It’s the audition of a lifetime. I put on my biggest smile and wind my hips. I move closer to the table and then kneel down and suck his shit into my mouth like my middle name is Hoover.
“Fuck!” McGriff says, sliding his hand down my blond braids. “They weren’t lying about your ass.” He cocks his head and watches as my full lips suck and slobber all over his peanut butter–colored dick.
Tyga reaches down into his pants and pulls out his dick. What he lacks in length he makes up for in width. His shit is so fat it looks like a mini tree trunk while he strokes himself during my performance. “So whatcha thinking, Python?” Tyga asks, returning to business. “You think that grimy nigga Fat Ace is dead or what?”
Python shrugs and reaches for his beer. “Fuck if I know. Ain’t nobody seen his ass since we put a couple of bullets in him that night at the hospital.”
“Nah. That nigga ain’t dead,” McGriff chimes in, thrusting his hips and hitting my tonsils’ bull’s-eye. “We would’ve heard something by now. I’m—Whoa!” He leans his head back as I take his dick all the way to the balls, hold still, and squeeze my throat muscles. “Goddamn, bitch. Shit!”
I gag and choke while tears pour down my face, but I hold firm.
“FUUUUCK!” McGriff blasts off and my throat releases its grip so that I can gulp down his salty babies with a smile. “Whoo!” He looks over at Python. “You better hold on to this one. Bitch, where you learn to suck dick like that?”
I shrug. “My stepdaddy.”
The niggas’ faces twist, but then McGriff laughs. “Well, fuck. He did a great job.”
“Will you focus, nigga?” Python says, irritated. “I don’t like all this hide-and-seek bullshit with Fat Ace. The muthafucka appears and disappears like a ghost. That shit ain’t sitting right with me.”
“C’mon over here,” Tyga says, reaching for me and jamming my head down onto his cock. “Don’t worry about that big nigga, Python. We’ll find him again.”
“What about this brother, Profit?” Python asks. “Y’all still watching his ass?”
“Got him covered like Allstate,” McGriff says, leaning forward to pull on my thong and take a peek at my ass while I’m bobbing on Tyga’s cock. “But for real I think that nigga Profit is a square. The soldiers we got on him say that the muthafucka ain’t in the game. He just goes to school and creeps around with his girlfriend.”
“I don’t give a fuck if he’s in the game or not. He’s collateral.”
“So what you sayin’?” McGriff slides a finger into my pussy. “You want us to wet this dude up?”
Python sips on his beer and watches as McGriff slips another finger into my dripping pussy. He looks like he’s in a trance before he finally answers, “I don’t know. Let me think on it a little while. Who’s his girlfriend?”
“Some chick out in midtown. We know the address. I can get you a name if you want it.”
“See that you do.” He catches the waitress’s eye and signals for another beer.
Tyga starts sweating and squirming in his chair. “Sheeiiit.”
“She gettin’ it, ain’t she?” McGriff laughs and gets up. “Stand up, baby.”
I stand but remain stooped over with my mouth locked around Tyga’s cock. I’m determined to suck this muthafucka’s white taffy out before I give McGriff any more attention.
“I hope this pussy is as good as that fuckin’ mouth of yours,” McGriff says, spreading my ass cheeks and hawking a wad of spit at the back of my pussy for extra lube. Next, he straps on a magnum condom. I’m relieved he’s not going to raw dog it. Before he enters me from behind, he leans down and places a kiss on my perfectly round ass. “Python, you sure you don’t want to hit none of this?”
“Nah, nigga. Handle your bidness.”
“Whateva, man. Pussy is pussy.” McGriff holds on to my waist and slowly slides the head of his cock in between the walls of my creaming pussy. “Aww. Fuck yeah. You gotta keep this bitch around, Python.”
“No doubt,” Tyga cosigns.
“Glad you’re enjoying her.” Python smirks and accepts his second beer when the waitress returns. “What about that other shit? You checked out that nigga from up north? Is his shit legit?”
“Ooh.” Tyga’s eyes roll for a brief second before he answers the question. “Yeah. That nigga, Dmitry, is cool. I’ve talked to a coupla niggas in Brooklyn who fuck with him. Nigga always comes through.”
Python’s eyes flash with irritation. He probably doesn’t like Tyga tossing around names in front of mixed company. “So you’re vouching for this nigga?”
“P-put my name on it. Fuck, this bitch is gonna make me fall in love.” Tyga grabs hold of my head and holds me down to gag and slobber all over his shit as he blasts a couple of ounces down my throat. My mouth finally springs off Tyga’s dick when McGriff sinks his long cock inside me from the back. I can feel the muthafucka all the way up in my chest.
“I know that you’re loving this shit,” McGriff brags, rotating his hips and beating up my walls.
I glance back over my shoulder. “Give me all you got.” I slam my ass down harder on his shaft.
Python’s brows lift with renewed interest. Ah. He’s an ass man. I got his fuckin’ number now. Python has seen his boy with other women in the VIP before, but none of them could take in more than just half his nigga’s size. Now my big booty ass is backing all the way to the balls. I know they are all impressed.
A medieval grin covers McGriff’s face as he takes my sassiness as a challenge. In the next second, he slings his dick so hard that I’m sure he’s splitting me in half, but I continue to moan and throw my ass back like a cock addict. When I’m close to passing out, Tyga gets back into the mix. They toss me around like a rag doll. At one point, I have my leg locked around McGriff’s waist while he digs out my pussy and Tyga’s thick cock rams my tight asshole.
“Goddamn, you can take it all, can’t you, you nasty bitch?” McGriff growls while he and Tyga bounce me up and down. “Your stepdaddy teach you this shit, too?”
At the table, Python watches the show while lazily rubbing his meat. I’m giving his boys just as much as I’m getting. I just want him to know that my little show is all for him. At every chance I can get, I lock gazes with him while one or both of his boys are beating my shit up. I’d welcome a full-out train if it meant I can get in good with Python. When he takes a woman, he brands her as his and then declares her off limits. Seeing how I get down, he has to be thinking I have potential.
Tyga roars and whips his cock out.
Python’s black gaze zeroes in on the thick cum dripping out of my beautiful, golden ass. Yeah, it’s just a matter of time before I’m doing a private show just for him, and he crowns me as the leader of the Queen Gs.
21
Ta’Shara
The police had been sweating Profit for months. But after a while, they had to fall back to their regularly scheduled program. He still had a court date for the illegal firearm, but he and his people seem to think that he’ll be able to beat that charge. He had contradicted my story to the police by
taking full responsibility for the weapon. The witness in the hospital lobby stuck to his story that Profit was actually a hero that night and saved his life, so that’s a good thing in his favor. The main solid Profit is doing is not ratting to the cops where he got the gun. The muthafucka is clearly hot, since the serial number is filed off, but the ballistic reports couldn’t place it at that shooting in Orange Mound.
Essence been sweating bullets and blowing up my phone every chance she gets. I understand. The last thing E wants to explain to the Gangster Disciples and the Queen Gs is how and why Fat Ace’s little brother got hold her shit and mowed down members of their own set. I keep telling her to be cool, but the bitch is like a little Chihuahua and wrecking my nerves.
Profit will never do her dirty, and on that she’s just going to have to trust me.
Meanwhile, the streets are still hot, and Fat Ace is still a wanted man with the Gangster Disciples. Niggas are now speculating that Fat Ace has nine lives, since he survived the five slugs he took at the hospital. The Vice Lords are resourceful if nothing else. Fat Ace’s right-hand chick, Lucifer, pulled some real gangsta shit and saved Ace’s life.
What makes me nervous is that Profit sounds more and more like he wants to finally clique up with the Vice Lords. Shit. I think he’s done it already and is just looking for the best way to let me in on the program. It ain’t like I don’t understand. There’s no such thing as a free agent in the street game. Everybody needs someone to watch they back. And when you have family as powerful as Fat Ace, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what’s coming.
I just want him to lie to me just a little longer.
Profit glances up at me. “I love you.”
My head springs up from the library book propped open on the table in front of me, and I stop playing footsie with him under the table. “Shhh.” I glance around and giggle. “Someone might hear you.”
“Like I give a fuck.” His sexy lips stretch across his face as he leans forward and braids our hands together. For the last two months, I’ve been grounded. The Douglases have only allowed me to go to school, track, and the public library. Embarrassingly enough, Tracee drives me there and picks me up, ensuring that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I ain’t going to lie. The trust bond between me and the Douglases has seriously been severed, and I’m afraid that it will never be repaired. But I’m going to try, minding my p’s and q’s, like Profit likes to say—except that I do sneak him into my room and make love to him late at night. I can’t help it. I love him. And I will always love him. I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.
“Besides,” Profit continues with our conversation. “The fact that you got me up in this muthafucka with all these bullshit books should tell everyone just how pussy-whipped I am.”
“Pussy-whipped?” I arch a brow at him. “Most niggas wouldn’t admit that shit.” I laugh.
“No other nigga has what I have.” He rubs his leg against mine. “And they never will.” Profit levels me with a look that says he means business.
“You just keep on loving me the way you do and you’ll never have anything to worry about,” I sass.
He rocks his chin upward. “C’mere, you.”
Self-conscious, I glance around the busy library, even though it’s highly unlikely anyone we know is roaming around—that’s why it’s such an idyllic place to meet. At school, the tension between the various gangs has gotten worse, to the point the school board has voted to have security guards with metal-detector wands stationed at the doors.
Nobody snitched about the bloody fight between me and Qiana. I was spared having to see that nosy bitch again, because she never returned to school. Still, the hood vine buzzed. Nobody knew how to take or handle me and Profit officially coming out as a couple, so everybody fell back and watched from the sidelines.
“I’m waiting,” Profit says.
Hands still locked together, I stand from my chair, lean over the table, and plant a fat kiss against his soft lips. We moan at the same time.
“Mmm. You taste like strawberry Bubble Yum,” Profit says, pulling me back a bit but sucking on my bottom lip. “My favorite.” Suddenly he releases my hands, hooks his arm around my waist, and pulls me across the table.
I squeal, causing everyone in the library to turn with their fingers pressed against their lips, shushing us.
Profit shoots them his middle finger while I giggle until he successfully pulls me into his lap and I almost piss in my pants. “Your shoulder!”
“My shoulder is fine. Just stiff,” he says. “Now, you said you had something that you wanted to ask me,” he says, snuggling my neck. “What is it?”
My heart flutters as I take a deep breath. “Well…”
“Well, what?” He lifts his head. “Are you blushing?”
“No.”
Profit laughs. “Yes, you are.” He smacks me on the ass. “What is it? Spit it out.”
I twirl a lock of hair around my finger as if I’m shy all of a sudden. “Well, you know that the, um, prom is coming up?”
Profit’s brows shoot up. “The prom?” He rolls his eyes. “Sheeiit.”
“Yeah. I know it’s silly but…” I draw a deep breath. “Well, you know…” I shrug and avoid his twinkling eyes.
“You’re right. It is silly.” He laughs.
I stop twirling my hair and drop my head in disappointment.
“But,” he continues. “if my baby really wants to go, then…I guess I can turn this hustler into a G—for one night.”
I perk up. “Really? You mean it?”
“Look at you.” He grins. “You really want to do this?”
“It would be nice to get all dressed up,” I say. “I’ll be off punishment by then.”
“What happened about not wanting everyone to know about us?”
“C’mon. Everybody already knows so…why not?”
Profit eyes me curiously. “Look. I’m cool with it…but what about your sister?”
My smile fades and my back stiffens. By no means have I forgotten my last talk, or rather lecture, with my older sister. How could I? I’m still pissed about it. “It’s time I remind my sister that she doesn’t run my life. I do what I want to do.” I wrap my arms around Profit’s neck. “And I date who I want to date.”
And I mean that shit. I’ve had enough of LeShelle’s bullshit. It’s my life, and I’ll live and love the way I see fit.
Profit’s sexy smile widens. “I think you made that shit clear when you sliced Qiana’s ass up,” he jokes. “I’m beginning to think that underneath that honor-roll, good-girl persona beats the heart of a real gangsta bitch.”
I take that as a compliment. “You think so?” I kiss the tip of his nose.
“Absolutely. Now we just need to come up with a street name for you and you’ll be good to go. Something like, um, Lady Blade or Killa Blade—because ain’t nobody going to forget that crazy shit you did to Qiana’s face anytime soon.”
“Shit. You’re the muthafucka who taught me that shit.”
“A teacher is as good as his student.” He pimps his collar.
“Whatever, nigga.” I roll my eyes and attempt to climb out of his lap.
“Wait. Wait.” He keeps me locked in place. “So we’re really gonna do this?” he checks. “I’m going to get a penguin suit and you’re going to get all girlied up?”
“That’s the plan.” I almost can’t believe I’m saying this shit myself.
“Limo? Corsage? Officially meeting your foster parents instead of listening to them from underneath your bed?”
“Yep.”
Profit coughs and clears his throat. “And, uh, what about what normally happens afterward?” His lips kick upward.
Grinning, I remove my arms from around his neck and fold them beneath my breasts. “What? We’re already—”
“Not in a fancy hotel,” he cuts me off. “Not that I’m knocking your twin-size bed—it’s kinky and all—but a tall brot
ha like myself could use a little more room.”
“So you propose…?”
“The Peabody Hotel.” He shrugs. “Might as well do it up right.”
I pretend to think about his proposition for a hot second. “All right. Deal.”
Profit nods. “Guess that means our asses is heading to the prom. Just wait until niggas hear about this.”
22
Momma Peaches
“Your old ass should be ashamed of yourself,” Josie yells as she storms into my house without knocking. “Where he at?” Her head whips around. “Arzell!”
I sit a platter of flapjacks down on the table and then settle my hands on my hips. “Will you stop all that hollering up in here? What’s your problem?”
Josie swishes her wide hips over to the table. Time has not been all that kind to her face and body. Her once Pam Grier–like brick-house figure now looks like a brick wall, complete with elephant legs and doughy feet spilling out of orthopedic shoes. Her once-idolized long hair has lost the war against chemical perms and harsh dyes to the point her edges are as bald as a baby’s bottom while the rest is a thin, gray, natural mess.
“My problem,” Josie says, getting all up in my face, “is my coming home from visiting my daughter out in California and hearing that you got your old-ass pussy all up on my grandson. What the fuck is wrong with you? You ain’t supposed to do no shit like that.”
I cut my eyes. “Girl, please. That nigga may be young, but he’s good and grown. And I ain’t heard no complaints, especially when he’s tongue-boxing my clit. That’s for damn sure.” I laugh, shake my ass, and then return to the kitchen to get some syrup.
“This is a muthafuckin’ joke to you, ain’t it?” Josie follows me, huffing and wheezing the whole way. “That some foul shit, Peaches. You used to change that boy’s diapers!”
“Chile, stop. Don’t be tryna turn this into something it ain’t. Like I said, the boy is grown and he can leave any damn time he gets ready. Until then, I’m going to ride your grandson’s dick, because it keeps my back straight and my arthritis at bay.”
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