by AP Jermaine
“I don’t want that shit man! I told you I’m chillin but you don’t seem to be able to comprehend that!”
“Here, that’s five bands.” Shell pushed some of the money he’d already counted towards me and kept counting, just like I hadn’t said a damn thing.
“You really gonna make me kill one of those niggas out here aint ya?” As I spoke, I envisioned some punk running up on me with his pistol drawn screaming “There he is! There he is!”
“Man, for the hundredth time, I’m telling you the nigga a straight ho. Look bru, I know I caught you off guard with this one, but the nigga be hiding so much I had to get him right then. Look at it this way bru, I know you didn’t want me to do that shit aight, at least not wit you with me. But the fact is, what’s done is done. The nigga already been robbed. Aint shit me, or you can do to change that so we might as well enjoy the shit we got. Shit, with all that bread you spent today you better take that shit!”
“Nigga I keep telling you my paper straight.” Suddenly I started to think about how before we did our lil prison bids, Shell would jux niggas and then come bust it down with me. I took the shit because I knew if I didn’t, he’d just fuck it up tricking and getting high anyway. The same would probably happen now, just on a larger scale. “Fuck it. Keisha still be selling tree?” I asked Shell who had his scale out weighing up the coke.
“Yeah, I think so; and bru you was right, she do got some fire head and pussy.” Shell grinned like he thought I gave a fuck he’d been fucking with Keisha. I don’t know why he thought that though. To me she was a jumpoff and that’s all she’d ever be.
“Yeah she straight. Just don’t eat her.” Shell didn’t respond this time. I guess he didn’t get the reaction he wanted. All I could do was laugh.
“Ay yo, you know they found that nigga Ish slumped over on the West end. I think he was on Rosedale in his car,” Shell completely changed the subject. I hadn’t forgotten about the nigga Ish either. I owed him. I thought he’d wised up and left the city.
“Oh yeah? They know who did it?” I asked.
“Nah. Just another nigga wit his shit pushed back.” Shell grinned and I didn’t ask no more questions. The nigga was dead, and that was that. Looking down at all the felonies lying out on the table in this tiny ass house, I realized I needed to make haste and raise up outta there.
“Let me see this.” I said grabbing two pounds of the Sour Diesel and the five stacks, tossing em back into the duffle bag.
“You straight? That all you want? No coke?”
“Nah dog I’m good. I’m bout to skate but I’ll holla back later,” I looked back and
Shell was already taking a sniff of what I knew was dope.
“Aight bru, get back at me.” He talked through his nose.
“Don’t overdose in here nigga,” I laughed realizing Shell was gonna be Shell. I guess I was just gonna have to accept him for who he was.
Chapter 37 “Puppy Love”
“Girl you see that Beemer? That looked like Banks’ shit!” Keisha asked Peaches excitedly as she stood and stretched her neck, looking down the street for any signs of the car that had just passed.
“What you mean look like? That was Banks’ shit, and that was him driving.” Peaches stated matter of factly. “Oh, you aint know? Banks is home bitch. My girl Tamia be fucking him. He got a time cut or something.” Shock would be an understatement to describe Keisha’s facial expression. “Bitch close yo mouth before something fly in it.” Peaches laughed.
“How long he been home?” “Girl I don’t know. All I know is that he’s home, and that was him. Why you worried about it anyway? Aint you, fuckin wit Shell? You might as well fall the fuck back and let me get some of that bomb dick I heard Banks got.” Fury showed in Keisha’s eyes as she stared Peaches down.
“First of all, bitch. Hell no, I aint fucking wit Shell. We fucked a couple times but it aint mean shit. That nigga gave me a stack both times. He paid dearly for this pussy. Secondly, if I hear that you ever so much as sniffed Banks nutts, I will drag yo skank ass all over these projects. Understood? Comprende?”
“Yeah whatever bitch.” Peaches answered with a snap of her finger. “Damn, so you fucked up over him like that? Tamia is too. Shit! That dick got’s to be the truth!”
“Bitch fuck Tamia! I love that nigga!”
“Girl that nigga aint gonna want you. Especially when he finds out you been fucking his right - hand man.”
“He aint gonna find out.”
“He will.”
“Damn bitch, you gone tell him or something!”
“Of course not. I don’t hate on bitches like they be hating on me. That aint even my style. But girl niggas talk just like bitches. Shit, I bet he already know. Oh shit, girl I could be wrong. There he is right there pulling up in the parking lot!”
I wasn’t trying to do any hustling. Trouble is too easy to get in and too hard to get the fuck out of. There were too many legal ways to hustle that same paper, and I had my mind set on going at that with a vengeance. Yet and still, I had two pounds of Sour Diesel and needed to get that shit off. Keisha was my first choice. Weed in the projects sells just as fast, or faster than crack, or pills. I knew she’d think I was here to fuck, but she was in for a surprise. She wasn’t getting none of this dick. I wasn’t mad at her or no shit like that, but I had to make her think that I was. That way, she’d do what I needed her to do quickly. As I stepped outta my car in front of her building, I saw Keisha sitting on her front porch with Peaches. Peaches had the phattest ass in the projects! She was still a bird though. No ambition. Just out here chasing the next drug dealers dick. And money.
“Banks, Oh my god, baby!” Keisha ran off the porch like she’d just been told to “Come on Down!” on the Price is Right. I held my hand up for her to halt, and pointed towards the
apartment. She looked disappointed but still she got the message, turned and walked towards the apartment followed by Peaches. Damn Peaches got a phat ass! The crib still looked the same, besides a poster of Bob Marley rolling a joint that now hung on the living room wall. Throwing the duffle bag down on the couch, I stretched, then took a seat beside it.
“Hey Banks. Congratulations,” Peaches walked by me smiling before taking a seat across from me.
“Bitch what you smiling at!” Don’t get fucked up! Keisha barked on Peaches.
“Damn bitch, I was just speaking. Quit trippin.” Peaches rolled her eyes.
“Yeah she was just speaking. Come over here and sit down.” I patted the seat beside me. Keisha lit up like a Christmas tree and took flight to rush over and sit by my side.
“How long you been home baby?”
“A week or so, Why? You been keepin my pussy tight?”
“Huh?” Keisha looked like the cat that ate the canary. I decided to have some fun with her, but business came first.
“Check this out.” I said as I pulled the exotic outta the duffle bag.
“Oooh Banks! Can I roll some of that!” Peaches jumped out of her seat, rubbing her hands together.
“Ho sit yo ass down! Aint nobody talking to you!”
“I got you Peaches, just give me a second.”
“Thank you Banks,” Peaches rolled her eyes at Keisha again and sat back down.
“Check it out Keisha. This is a pound of Sour Diesel right here. Normally they go for four stacks easy. I want you to find somebody to cop it. Tell em you’ll take three. I need the bread ASAP.”
“Okay baby. How much do I make?”
Now came the fun. “Nothing.”
“Huh? What you say boo?”
“I said, you aint gonna make nothing. You doing this to prove yourself worthy.”
Why? What you mean? You know I’m down for you Teddy.”
“Oh really? Why haven’t I seen you since I left the jail then?”
“Huh?”
“Huh my ass. If you were so down for me, then why when I caught my time you got ghost? I need a ride or die chic, not a when shit
is good chic.”
“Mmm…Hm,” Peaches mumbled, causing Keisha to give her the look of death. If looks could kill, Peaches woulda dropped dead! I gave Peaches a wink just for the hell of it, because I knew it would fuck with Keisha.
“Teddy, you know I wanted to come see you, but I knew that Monique was coming every week.” Keisha pleaded.
“Oh yeah? How you know that?”
“Because she told me.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah Banks I swear. You know I wouldn’t blow yo spot up. I know what we got is real, but I
know you with Monique right now. I don’t like it, but I respect it because she’s my girl, and I love you just that much.”
“What about a letter? Why didn’t I get mail from you?”
“I did write Banks. You got my letters, didn’t you?”
“Keisha, I got two letters from you in four years, and that was in the first couple months, so stop the jokes. I know what happened. You thought a nigga was gonna be gone for fifteen, twenty joints, and you ain’t built to hold no nigga down doing a bid.”
See let me once again explain something to yall. The shit that Jay spit about “You can’t turn a bad girl good, and once a good - girls gone bad… she’s gone forever,” that nigga kept it all the way real. That’s why I respect his music so much. Real recognizes real. No offense to my sisters out there, but out here in these streets, you got just what I called em before. Drug dealer ho’s. They don’t want nothing but a drug dealer. That’s it. That’s all she wants. It’s an addiction for em. They go from one, to the next to the next. If she wit you and you catch a bid; for five years or better, its over for ya. She’ll be out hunting for the next drug dealer. She might give a working nigga some pussy every now and then, but its niggas getting that trap money that really makes her pussy cream. She might be wit a nigga that gets murdered. Yeah, she’ll cry for a month or two, then guess what? She’s on to the next trap star. The lifestyle of being with a hustling nigga turns her out. The cars, clothes, money, status, etc. She gets hooked on it like dope. Hustling niggas, no matter how lame or ugly the nigga may be, most times are gonna get the pick of the litter when it comes to the bitches. So, the sack chasers they attract, are pretty, thick in all the right places, and probably suck a mean dick too. In most cases, they don’t like to work. The lifestyle they’ve lived has led them to believe, that all they gotta do in life is look cute, fuck, suck some dick and spend money. Maybe cook a meal every now and then. If they can cook. That’s Keisha. Peaches too. Chics who spend their entire life jumping from one trapstar to the next. There’s no real loyalty with these types. Not in my book. But like I said, if you’re wit a broad like this, then you already know it. Because nine times out of ten, before you got wit her, she was with some other nigga that trap, and probably another one before him. All I can tell you, is that if you wanna stay in a relationship with her, then don’t get locked up. She’s loyal to your money and your status. Not you. Real talk. Just think back to all the kingpins, whether in your city or somewhere else, that got knocked and caught an asshole full of time. Those dime bitches they were calling their wives, where they at now? Either fucked up on the drugs themselves, or wit guess who? Another motherfuckin drug dealer. Always keep in mind that there aint shit special about you, no matter how big the streets may have stretched your ego. This shit is fact not fiction. Just look at Boston George. Shit, Nicky Barnes was one of the richest, most respected drug kingpins to ever come up in New York City. Guess what happened when he caught his time? His wifey started fuckin his right-hand man and left his ass for dead. You know why? Because his man was still out there getting money and Nicky could no longer provide the lifestyle she loved. Nicky snitched on his ass for it too. That’s called T.D.S. (Tender Dick Syndrome) But anyway, back to the situation at hand.
Keisha slid all the way over to me and grabbed my hand. “Banks that aint true. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” she pleaded again.
“I didn’t tell you to fuck Shell. You did that on your own, didn’t you?” Keisha looked like she’d just seen the Grim Reaper!
“I didn’t…. I….”
“Don’t worry about it Keisha. It’s not that important. You know me and you could never have anything after this though.”
“MMM…Hmm… I told you.” Peaches crossed her legs as she leaned up like she was watching a movie.
“Bitch get outta my house!… Get out!” Keisha turned and screamed on Peaches. I was shocked at the tears I saw streaming down Keisha’s face and I knew Peaches was about two seconds from an ass whipping. I wasn’t in the mood to be trying to break up no cat fight, so I reached into the ziplock bag, took out about a half a quarter, wrapped it in a five - dollar bill and handed it to Peaches.
“Here Peaches. I’ll holla at you later. I might have some work for you too.”
“Thank you Banks, make sure you get at me.” Peaches said with a swing of that pretty phat ass. That proved to be the last straw for Keisha, as she jumped up to get in her homegirls ass, before I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back down beside me. We all know, including Peaches, what type of work I might have for her later. It involved my dick, her lips, and that phat ass she was carrying around. Don’t get me wrong now, Keisha had a nice ass herself, but Peaches was just stupid phat! Peaches walked out the back door, and Keisha broke down crying like someone had just died. She leaned into me, and this time I didn’t push her away.
“I’m sorry Banks. I’m sorry.” Keisha whimpered between sobs. “I know I fucked up, but please give me a chance to make it up to you. Yeah me and Shell got together twice, but he gave me a thousand dollars both times. I was dead broke and he knew I needed that money. I know it won’t right Banks, but it’s all I know.” Her sobbing continued as her tears drenched my shirt. “I aint never met no dude like you Banks. I can change. I can change for you. Let me prove I can change.” I looked down at her, as she looked up at me. Her lips were trembling and her face was full of tears. Right about now you may be asking yourself, how could a woman act this way over a man she knows is with someone else? One of her best friends at that? Don’t be shocked. That’s reality for yo ass. The untold truth, it happens all the time. There’s a black man shortage out here. Especially one with character, swag, and some good dick! Don’t get me wrong though, I’m not saying that I’m some kind of Don Juan, or Romeo or no shit like that, but I’ve never had a problem with women. Even before I started trappin. I’ve always known I’m a handsome nigga. I work out some, just to keep my body tight, I’m brown skinned with a razor sharp edged up Caesar, and stay fresher than virgin pussy. But the X-factors are my swag and confidence. Accompanied with the god given blessing of a big dick that I know how to use. An older chic I used to fuck when I was younger, told me a long time ago that I’d never have a problem with women, and that I was gonna break a lot of hearts. She saw my slight look of confusion, and laughed before saying, “Baby, a woman can get dick from anywhere, but some “good” dick, is hard to find.” She said I was a natural. I was fifteen, and the woman was my mamas best friend Ms. Elaine. Sorry ma. I had to give Keisha credit for one thing. She admitted, that fucking niggas with, and for money, was all she knew. It wasn’t shit that I didn’t already know, but for her to realize and admit it, I had to respect.
“Sell that tree, and hurry up doing it. Remember, all that paper comes to me.” I told her as I stood to leave.
“Ok. Okay Banks. I swear I’m gonna change,” She answered as she tried to wipe some of the tears from her face.
“We’ll see. Oh yeah, from now on, no more niggas come up in here. Nobody. It’s bad for business. Understand?”
“Yes Teddy, I understand. Nobody.”
“I’ll be back in a couple days. Write down my new number. Don’t call me unless it’s an emergency, or you got the money.” I bounced without waiting for a response.
Chapter 38 “Big Daddy”
A month had passed, and my bitch ass parole officer was still in my
shit, so I was playing the crib pretty close. It only took Keisha six days to call me and say she had nine thousand three hundred for me. She’d broken the pound down into quarters and half quarters, and the shit went like hot cakes. I kept the other pound for my personal. That way I wouldn’t have to spend money on no tree. Yeah, I smoke like a motherfuckin Jamaican. Needless to say, that “Sour” was the best shit I’d ever smoked. And I loved it! One blunt and I’d be too through! I still didn’t give Keisha no dick. Although I did break down and let her suck me off. She seemed to be satisfied with that for now. I added the money she gave me, to the money that I already had to invest into the building I needed. I wasn’t fucking up no more money. I was currently sitting on about twenty- five stacks, not counting the money that Tamia had for me. I’d spent the night with her three nights prior, and she’d assured me that the money was there when I needed it. I figured I was gonna need money for the building, renovations, and startup capital. Hustling in the streets was dead. The penitentiary had enough slaves in it without adding me to the cotton fields. For a real nigga, it aint but two ways outta the streets. Prison or the graveyard. I was sitting on my living room floor, getting my ass kicked in John Madden Football when Monique came up behind me and threw her arms around my neck. Since I had to be in the house a lot, we’d been fucking so much my nutts were empty! If she wanted some dick now, I probably couldn’t skeet nothing but water! “Hey big daddy.” Monique purred in my ear.
“Hey baby. Ah shit! I just threw a fuckin interception!”
“You winning big daddy?”
“I would be if you’d sit that wide ass down” I laughed playfully.
“I’m sorry daddy.” Monique still didn’t move, and I couldn’t see the fuckin T.V. Tom Brady threw a touchdown on my Minnesota Vikings because I couldn’t fuckin see!
“Damn Monique, you fuckin up my game!”
