Trust No Man 3

by Cash

  I put my hand on his elbows. “Slow down, killa. Let him park and get out. We don’t want him to get spooked and pull off.” My adrenaline was racing too, but the nature of my profession had taught me not to spring too quickly. I had done that once, early in my jack boy initiation and the vic’ had gotten away. Now I had the patience of Job.

  As soon as Fat Stan hopped down out of the Tahoe and lumbered towards the entrance of the building, Criminal was all over his ass. With the black hoodie pulled low and tight over his face, he whipped out the four-fifth and cracked Fat Stan in the mouth. Fat Stan tried to run, but two of Criminal’s GF homies blindsided him.

  Whap! They knocked him to the ground.

  “Hold up! What I do to y’all?” he cried while trying to block blows and feet that came crashing down from all sides.

  “Shut the fuck up, lame ass nigga and take this ass whoopin’ like a man,” barked one of the GF dudes. They were stomping a mud hole in his ass.

  Criminal busted his head open with the butt of the four-fifth, drawing more blood with each lick.

  I stepped through the crowd undisguised. “You like beating on women, huh?” My tone was menacing.

  Fat Stan looked up and recognized my face.

  “Stupid nigga,” I said. “Didn’t you know that when you put your hands on Inez I was gonna come and straighten it? It don’t matter how long my pop has been dead, Inez is still his woman. Plus, you called my father a coward.” My nine came out ready to cough.

  “Lil T, I’m sorry, youngin’. I swear I’ll never hit her again. Just don’t shoot me,” cried Fat Stan.

  Now that he was up against a man, all the bitch in him came out. He might as well have worn a pink thong up under the Evisu jeans he had on.

  “Don’t beg me, nigga. I ain’t got no muthafuckin’ talk!”

  Boc! The nine clapped and he made a sound like a whale crying. He held his hip and writhed in pain.

  “Please, Youngblood!”

  “Nigga, keep my daddy’s name out your mouth!”

  Boc!

  “Owww!” he yelped again and grabbed his other leg.

  “Sing my name to the police and you’ll never live to testify,” I warned.

  Criminal added, “Mob shit!”

  Bow! His four-fifth sounded like a small canon. More blood gushed from Fat Stan’s leg.

  “Don’t test my G,” I warned him one final time.

  CHAPTER 17

  I might be a psychopath, I thought. Because one night after wilding out on Fat Stan, I took my sisters out for pizza and a movie as if last night never occurred. Then, less than twenty-four hours after a fun night out with my sisters, I was back on the G shit.

  Fat Stan’s blood had barely dried on my hands when it was time to put my gangsta down again. This time it was for keeps. My shawdy was parked outside of Manky’s mother’s house. If she didn’t hear from me in forty-five minutes, my instructions to her were to puff mom’s wig out.

  I was outside of Manky’s front door with my ear pressed to it. Inside, I could hear Manky’s and another voice I recognized as Scarface, having a debate.

  “Man, you ain’t cut Michelle Pierce. Quit frontin’!” I heard him laugh.

  “Dog, you ever known me to lie on my dick?” asked Scarface.

  “Hell yeah! All the time,” Manky said.

  “Well, I ain’t lying now. For real fam’, I been hittin’ it for two weeks. I love that bitch.”

  “It’s still M.O.E. right? Let’s cut that ho together, cuz.”

  “Hell to the nawl. I would rather see yo dick in my mama’s mouth than to let you cut lil buddy.”

  Manky laughed again. “Dayum, it’s hittin like that?”

  “It’s wet like the sea,” boasted Scarface.

  I listened as Manky switched the subject. He convinced Scarface that he was about to call up some Decatur hoes for them to fuck. I strained to hear his whole conversation, but I was getting impatient. Although I couldn’t see them, I could imagine he had his cell phone to his ear, capping it off.

  “Yo, what’s up, shawdy. Y’all got some big asses? ‘Cause ain’t nothing but big dicks ova here,” Scarface shouted.

  “A’ight, baby girl, y’all know how to get here. We’ll see y’all in fifteen minutes,” Manky said loud enough for his voice to carry out to me.

  I checked the time on my wrist. Then I called Manky’s cell phone. When he answered, I advised, “Don’t get dumb. Remember: If I get it, your granny does, too.”

  “I know. Just holla at me tomorrow.” He seemed to be playing his role to perfection.

  Exactly fifteen minutes later, I rapped on the door. The irony of the situation was when he cracked the door open. Jay-Z’s joint “It Was All Good Just a Week Ago” was playing on the CD deck. We grew up in the hood, my dog and me/ we used to hustle on the block for all to see/problems I called on him he called on me/shit wasn’t quite equal I broke him off my piece.

  I was wearing a bulletproof vest up under my coat in case that message was for me. I wouldn’t die alone if the cross was on. I raised the yoppa, and Manky stepped aside to let me in. “He’s in the bathroom. I have his strap; he left it on top of the flat screen,” he whispered.

  My eyes darted from right to left. I was wary of a setup, but not in fear. I ducked off into the kitchen out of sight, but I could peep around the refrigerator and see Scarface when he reentered the living room.

  “Where those hoes at?” asked Scarface, anxious for some pussy that was not on the way. “I thought I heard a knock at the door.”

  “That was my neighbor,” Manky lied.

  “Oh. What’s taking those bitches so long to get here?”

  “Just chill, dog.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Check this out. Shit been shady between us lately. I know it’s because you disagree with how I handled that work we got from Trouble. But peep game, bruh. That nigga don’t put fear in me. What? I’ma let another man have me shook? Never dat! Fuck Trouble. He got guns. We got guns. Ya feel me?

  I saw Manky nod his head.

  “Damn shawdy, you look like you ‘bout to cry,” Scarface said. “Trouble ain’t got you shook, do he? Not killa Mank. Fam’, let me find out you done went soft,” he cracked.

  “Oh shit!” he shrilled when I stepped out of the kitchen with the yoppa aimed at his chest.

  “’Sup Scar? You’re slippin’, homie. I got guns. You got guns. Ain’t that the slick shit you was just poppin’? Go for your gun, nigga, so I can chop your punk ass down.”

  He stared at the AK-47 in my hands. “I was only kickin’ the bo-bo wit’ my nigga, Mank. We was gon’ pay you. Wasn’t we, Mank?”

  “Your man already squared up his debt. You’re the bitch that thought you could hold out on me. Fool, Manky put ya ass in the remix.”

  He looked at Manky, his closest friend and uttered, “Nawl, bruh. Say it ain’t so. You snake muthafucka!”

  “Homie, I’m not a snake. I begged you to pay Trouble, but your greedy ass wouldn’t do it. So you made your own bed.”

  Blacka! Blacka!

  Manky shot his man in the forehead and the chest. Scarface’s body dropped to the floor in a grotesque twist.

  Now Manky’s debt to me was paid in full.

  I hit Kamora on her touch screen. “It’s over, shawdy. You can go home. I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Okay, are you blowing my back out tonight, Daddy?” she rasped in a voice thick with seduction.

  I jokingly replied, “I’m not your daddy. I’m ya Grandpa.”

  “Bae, you so crazy.” She laughed.

  For three straight days and nights all Kamora and I did was make love, blow Kush, eat and sleep. My touch still inflamed her like the very first time. I still thirsted for her body and loved to hold her in my arms after we pleased each other.

  Of course, all of that marathon fucking came with a price. Five weeks later, Kamora announced with a proud smile on her face that she was pregnant.

  “Don’t tell me that s
hit, shawdy,” I responded angrily.

  “Bae, why you gotta holler?” whined Kamora.

  “I’m not hollerin’! How the fuck did this happen?”

  “Uh, duh!”

  “Don’t get slick out the mouth! You know what the fuck I mean. You were supposed to be on the pill.”

  “Listen, nigga! I was on the fuckin’ pill. So maybe I forgot to take a pill sometimes, because a bitch isn’t perfect. We run around killing people twenty-four-seven, and we stay blunted—what do you expect?” Her fuse was short, too.

  “I expect you to handle your business,” I said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You already know.” We agreed that we weren’t bringing a child into this world as long as we were doing what we do.

  “Terrence, I don’t feel like solving a riddle, so will you please just give it to me uncut. Do you want me to get rid of our baby?” Now I knew shorty was steaming. She never called me by my government name. Her eyes teared up as she awaited my response.

  “Shawdy, you know what we agreed on,” I shot back.

  “Yes . . . or . . . no! Do you want me to get rid of the baby?”

  My tone softened, but my decision did not change. “Yes.”

  Kamora burst into tears and ran off into the bedroom like a white girl. I sat in the den of our spacious condo and threw back shots of Hen dog straight to the head. I got so drunk I tripped over my own feet when I stood up. Righting myself, I made my way back to our bedroom using the walls to hold me up. The bedroom door was locked. I knocked, but Kamora wouldn’t open the door.

  “Sha . . . shawdy . . . let . . . me . . . talk . . . to . . . you,” I slurred. Still, she wouldn’t respond. I put my ear to the door and heard crying.

  I was cold-hearted, but to my girl I was never that way. What hurt Kamora hurt me. I couldn’t change my decision, though. At the rate we were going, we both could be dead at a single tick of the clock. It would be unfair to bring a child into the midst of that uncertainty. I slid down the floor, placing my back against the bedroom door and tried to think. I looked down at the urn that hung from the chain around my neck. “Yo, pop, this is the same shit you went through with Inez, ain’t it? I guess it don’t matter how gangsta a woman is, she’s still a female and she still has emotions. Did you ever regret not pressing any of your baby mamas to have an abortion? Probably not. Nigga, you was slinging dick like crack.” I chuckled. “Man, this shit is crazy. My wifey is in there crying her eyes out, and it’s breaking a nigga’s heart. What is a young nigga to do?”

  I sat there trying to think of the right way to deal with the situation. The sound of Kamora crying had my head fucked up at first. Then I got upset because Kamora should’ve never put me in this situation. Our agreement was supposed to have been tacit.

  I stood up and banged on the door. “Open this bitch up or I’ma kick it down! Think I’m muthafuckin’ playing!” I barked. The Hennessey was controlling my tongue.

  When Kamora didn’t respond I followed up my threat by thrusting my shoulder into the door with such force that I broke the doorframe. Then I kicked the door in with my foot. The funny thing was Kamora didn’t even budge. She remained stretched across the bed with a pillow covering her face. “Are you gonna have an abortion or not?” I asked.

  Still, she refused to respond.

  “You know what? Fuck . . . this . . . this shit. I’m . . . out!” I slurred.

  Somehow, I made it to the strip club without getting pulled over. Inside, I found an unoccupied booth and waved Ava over.

  “What’s poppin’, baby boy? What brings you to my place of employment?” she asked.

  “I’m just passing a little time. Tryna clear my head really,” I confessed.

  “You want to talk about it?” she offered, but I didn’t wanna talk.

  “Nah, I wanna see a fat pretty pussy. I wanna see titties bouncing and ass cheeks clapping. C’mon, show me what you’re working with.” I pulled out a coupla bands.

  Ava smiled and began swaying her hips. She moved closer and used a knee to spread my knees wider so that she could get even closer. Moving in tune with the music, she removed her string bikini top. Her titties were two perfect orbs, not too big but more than a mouthful. Her dark brown nipples looked taut and edible. She cupped her titties and lifted them close to my mouth. “You like?” she purred.

  “Fuck yeah.”

  She opened her legs and pulled her thong aside just enough to give me a peek at her treasure. Then she spun half way, grabbed her ankles, and made that ass jiggle one cheek at a time. I smacked that big booty and leaned back for the rest of the show.

  While Ava gave it up, I took her in real good. She was short and thick with a very pretty face and seductive eyes. The hood version of Rhianna, but much thicker. Her pussy was like a camel’s toe and clean-shaven.

  “Pop that pussy for ya boy,” I prodded.

  She did not hesitate; she started poppin’ that pussy. I stuffed money in her garter and whispered my mack game in her ear.

  “You just wanna fuck tonight.” She laughed.

  “I don’t wanna fuck. You got it wrong, lil mama. I am gonna fuck you tonight. And I’ma have you walking bowlegged when I’m done,” I boasted.

  “This ain’t what you want.”

  “Why ain’t it?”

  “Because I’ll have you talking in your sleep. I’m telling you right now, my pussy is so wet and tight you’ll go crazy when you get up in it.”

  “Girl please.” I chuckled, waving the waiter over. “Bring me a bottle of Patron.” I handed the waiter $200 and she headed to the bar to get my bottle.

  A half hour later, I was feeling good and ready to see if Ava’s shit was as fiyah as she advertised. “Can you leave?” I asked.

  “I told you this ain’t what you want,” she repeated with so much sassiness I couldn’t back out. “Give me fifteen minutes,” she said.

  Twenty-five minutes later, we were headed to a hotel. As I drove I checked my cell to see if Kamora had called or texted. She hadn’t, so I turned my phone off and shoved it back inside my pocket.

  I drove to the Fairfield Inn and rented a room for the night. Once we were inside the room, I pulled out some Kush and Ava and I blazed two blunts. I was already feeling guilty because I knew what was about to go down and I had never creeped on Kamora. So I forced myself not to think about it, which wasn’t hard to do now that Ava was standing up and removing her clothes. As soon as she bared those succulent breasts, I stood up and said, “Hit the brakes, lil mama. I’ma drive this car. All you gotta do is enjoy the ride.”

  She wrapped her arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “I love a nigga to take control.”

  “That’s how I rock.” I kissed her neck while sliding her pants off.

  “Hurry up, nigga. I’ve been wanting you since we were in middle school.”

  “Shhh. Be quiet. I’ma do all of the talking. Let me feel this fat pussy.” I eased my hand inside her thong and palmed her mound. I softly squeezed it before running my finger up her hot, wet slit.

  “Ssssss!” she sizzled when I drew tiny circles around her clit with my finger.

  I concentrated on her love button until I felt her body quiver, then I slid two fingers deep inside her sugar walls and slowly moved them in and out. She was so wet her juices squished down my arm. I drew my fingers out and held them up to her mouth.

  “Mmmm. You like to watch me taste my own pussy, don’t you?” she moaned.

  “Didn’t I tell you to hush?” I drew back and slapped her across the face. That shit must have turned Ava on because she looked at me like she wanted to eat a nigga up. I pushed her down to her knees. She knew what I wanted.

  She took my dick out and stroked it up and down while kissing the head. Ava looked up at me as she licked the underside of my hardness then took me deep into her warm mouth.

  “Suck that muthafucka like you want it to be yours,” I said.

  Ava’s slow neck game was wicked. I
was up on my toes like a muthafuckin’ ballerina. I thrust my dick further down her throat causing her to gag.

  “Yeah, this that grown man shit!” I boasted.

  A few minutes later, lil mama was swallowing my cum. I had to grab a hold of her head to keep from falling. A nigga’s legs were weak and the alcohol had my head spinning. “Dayum, shawdy, you ain’t slip nothing in my drink, did you?” I asked, now stretched out across the bed.

  “Hell no, I would never do you like that. You must don’t know that I really want to fuck with you. On all levels,” professed Ava.

  I was kinda drunk, but liquor couldn’t make me lie. I kept it gutter at all times, that way I wouldn’t have to deal with the bullshit later. “Shawdy, you know I got an old lady. And on the real, I ain’t never fucked around on her, so I can’t tell you that I’ll fuck with you like this beyond tonight. You feel me?”

  “I feel you. I guess I’ll just have to make this memorable then.”

  “Do what you do.” I pulled off my gear and welcomed Ava to the dick. Shawdy damn sure did her thing. She rode my dick up and down, slow and fast, frontwards and backwards. When guilt about creeping on Kamora tried to surface in my thoughts and fuck up the mood, I pushed those thoughts right out of my mind and went deeper inside Ava. We fucked like we were running a marathon, and then we fell asleep sweaty and satiated.

  In the morning, I dropped Ava off at home and headed to my spot wondering if Kamora would be able to read the guilt on my face when I walked in the door.

  CHAPTER 18

  Standing in the doorway of our bedroom, I could see Kamora’s figure under the covers. I kicked off my Jordans, pulled off my socks and stepped out of my jeans. I slid under the cover and Kamora scooted to the edge of the bed away from me. “I see you still on some emotional shit. And I thought you was gangster,” I said to the back of her neck. She hugged the pillow tighter and continued to ignore me. “I see you ain’t built like I thought you was,” I added, hoping to stir up some kind of response out of her. It worked, but the response was not the one I had hoped for. She started sobbing into the pillow.