by AP Jermaine
“Oh shit! Thank you D.J.! You aint got to worry bout nothing! I’m gone bring you all the money!”
“Yeah. Yeah. Now who got the money for the eight ball?”
“Lou Ann got the money for that. She won’t come off hers neither. No offense D.J. but don’t none of us hoes trust each other when it come to our money.” Kitty confessed.
“Who the fuck is Lou Ann?”
“That’s the white girl in the car. She good people’s. She usually be selling pussy with these bitches in here. She made her a good lick this morning. Got her a Mexican for his wallet.”
“Aight tell her to come on in.” I had to laugh. One of a prostitute’s oldest tricks, is to have a dumb motherfucker pull his pants down around his ankles, then be going through his pockets while she’s giving him head. Most likely in a car. As soon as the unsuspecting trick busts his nut, she’s outta the car with his wallet, and or money in her hands. Fuck the lil ten or twenty dollars he’s already paid her. Now she’s got it all! So, ladies, if your man comes in the crib late night or early morning, screaming he lost his wallet, he probably stopped off and got a blowjob. And got scraped, by a quick hands dick sucker. Just keeping it real. You slow; you get took fast. The Untold Truth.
Lou Ann came in the house followed by the other black chic who’d been sitting in the car, and sure enough when I asked her for the buck twenty, she pulled the money from a black leather wallet. I pulled the scale out, broke a chunk off the solid half and threw it up there. 3.8 the scale jumped to, from 0.0. Yeah, I can eyeball like a motherfucker. Lou Ann who had dirty blond hair, was a little on the tall side for a woman. She had a scar running from her left ear to the left corner of her mouth. I wondered if it was from a trick, catching her digging in his pockets while she was sucking him off. I actually did know a girl, who’d gotten cut up like that. Luckily, she escaped with her life. Barely! I picked the scale up and dumped the oversized eight ball into Lou Ann’s awaiting hands.
“Thank you D.J.! Lou Ann thanked me looking like she’d just won a Gold medal at the Olympics! Hardly ever does anybody give a smoker weighed out work. For an eight - ball they might end up with two grams. Tops! But I didn’t have any reason to try and put my pimp game down on her. I wanted everybody to know that fuckin wit D.J. or his peoples, was the only way to fly. “Here you go Tammy.” Lou Ann broke off about a half a gram and handed it to the other black chic who’d been riding with her and Kitty. Tammy was light skinned wit freckles. She didn’t seem to talk much. But as soon as Lou Ann gave her the crack, she started talking up a storm as she pulled out her stem and put a piece up on it to smoke.
“Damn girl Thank you! I been wanting me a hit since last night! I hope this shit better than that other bullshit they got out here. I swear I needs me a good blast.” Talking Tammy flicked her lighter, held it up to her stem and pulled deep, as the flame curved into the end of the pipe. She pulled the lighter down and held the smoke in, as everybody seemed to stop and watch her. When she finally blew the smoke out her eyes stretched so wide I thought they would jump out her head! Unsuccessfully she kept trying to speak, as she grabbed her chest and fell back against the refrigerator, knocking over everything on top of it as she gasped for air!
“Oh shit! Tammy! Tammy! You okay girl!” Sandy raced to her side as Tammy doubled over and was finally able to breathe.
“Oh god! What the hell!” Tammy pushed out, still bent over gasping for more much needed air. When she stood back up, her eyes were still stretched, but she was able to breathe a little. “Goddamn! Whew! That aint no shit from around here!” Tammy sat down at the kitchen table as Kitty handed her a cup of water. We watched as she drank it down greedily, still holding one hand over her heart.
“Next time don’t be so fuckin greedy. That’s that shit from Virginia.” I told her while me, Bubba and Frank laughed our asses off. “Here, take this number.” A text came across my phone just as I handed her the paper with my number on it. I read, it then looked over at Frank. “Frank lemme borrow that raggedy ass Sentra for a few. Bubba yall stay here till I get back.”
“Keys is on the refrigerator dog. Go ahead and fill it up while you out.” Frank grinned.
“Nigga you fill it up wit some of the money you making,” I laughed as I grabbed the keys and headed out the door.
Chapter 60 “The Clapper”
“How long she been gone?” I asked Peaches as soon as I walked into Keisha’s apartment.
“Bout thirty minutes. Her grandma died and she had to go talk to the insurance people.”
“So, you texted me as soon as she left?”
“Yeah.” Peaches answered with a sneaky grin. Her text message read; “Cum thru n fuk me. Keisha’s gone.” Peaches’ apartment was too much out in the open, and she knew how I liked to stay low from the last time she’d called me with the same proposition. But just like the dick hound she was, she knew me coming through Keisha’s crib wouldn’t seem out of the ordinary. But hey. I ain’t mad at her.
“What the fuck you waiting on then? Get them shorts off and let me see that pretty phat ass.” I barked out my orders.
“Yes Banks.” In a flash, Peaches was out of her boy shorts and standing in front of me in a pair of purple Victoria’s Secrets thongs.
“Take your socks off.” Eagerly she complied as I checked her feet out to find that they were done up nice. “You must know I like pretty toes, don’t you?”
“I do,” She answered while biting down on her knuckle as if she were shy.
“Come here.” She walked over to stand in front of me, as I reached out and yanked her thong down to her knees! “Turn around.” She did as she was told. “Can you make that ass clap?”
“Yes.” She bit down on her knuckle again.
“Show me.”
“Ok daddy.” CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! “You like that Banks?” Peaches asked as she looked over her shoulder at me, making that ass sound off like thunder! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!
“Yeah I love it. Now turn back around.” Instantly she obeyed. “You a freak ain’t you?” I asked as I leaned back and lit a Dutch.
“Yes.” She hung her head as if ashamed.
“Hold your head up girl. Ain’t shit to be ashamed of.” She looked back up at me and smiled like a kid who had just been praised.
“You want me to be your manager?”
“Yes.”
“Take your t-shirt off and put your titty in your mouth.” I ordered her as I blew weed smoke all over her meaty, shaved pussy. Reaching out and running my middle finger through her slit, I saw that she was already dripping wet. Pulling her t-shirt off, she threw it in my lap, then pulled her caramel colored nipple into her mouth and sucked like she wanted milk. She gave her other nipple the same treatment before pushing her juicy titties together, then going at both at the same time. I had my dick out and in my hand, stroking the length as she watched me and whimpered. “You know how to fingerfuck that pussy?” I asked as I kept stroking my rock-hard erection.
“Yes.”
“You do it all the time?”
“Sometimes.” Peaches answered honestly.
“Lemme see, use two fingers.” The fingers were in her pussy before I could get it out my mouth good. Her damp snatch sounded like somebody was walking through a puddle of water she was juicing up so much! “Now use three,” eagerly she complied as she threw her head back and moaned loudly!
“AAAAAH!” Drunk with lust and anticipation, she squeezed her now rock hard nipple while working her wet pussy over with the three fingers! The sweet musty scent of her cunt started to fill the room. The smell, just before a woman orgasms.
“Now taste that pussy.” I told her as she snatched her fingers out and licked them clean! “Taste good?”
“Yeeesss!”
“Aight. Now go over there to the window and bend that ass over. Look out them blinds and make sure Keisha don’t walk up on us.” Sitting the half smoked blunt down in the ashtray, I stood up, dropped my jeans a
nd pulled out a Magnum. She was already bent over looking back at me, squirming as I rolled on the condom and stepped up behind her. As I placed one hand on top of that big ass, I leaned back and saw pussy juice running down the inside of her leg. Goddamn she’s wet! Grabbing my dick with my right hand, and putting my left hand on her left shoulder, I leaned in close to her ear as I placed the head of my wood at her slick opening. “I should fuck you in this big ass for calling me so damn early. But we’ll save that for next time.” I growled in her ear like I was crazy.
“Okay! We can do it next time! Just put it in pleassse!”
“Look out the fuckin blinds like I told you.” Obediently she reached up and cracked the blinds just enough to peek out. Looking down at her Victoria Secret thongs still tangled around her knees, then down at her pretty feet, my dick seemed to grow stiffer as I slid into her all the way down to my dick hairs!
“Ohhh Fuck!” She yelled out instantly! With firm grips on her right hip and left shoulder, I pounded into her like I was insane! Her super phat ass rolled like a tidal wave every time my thighs slammed against it! “Aahhh! Oh shit! Yes! Fuck! Me! Fuck! Me! I’m cum! Oh shit! Okay! Oh God, I’m bout to cum all OVER YOUR DICKKKK!!!” Peaches knees buckled, as she came so hard that thick drops of her orgasm, landed beneath us on the floor like heavy raindrops!
“AAAH SHIT! FUCK! AHHHH!” I yelled out myself as my own nutt followed right behind hers. Nothing like a quickie to start the day off. I barely had time to slide out, before Peaches ducked away from the blinds and said,
“Oh shit, here comes Keisha!”
Hurriedly I snatched my jeans up around my waist and sat down on the couch. Peaches yanked up her panties, snatched up her shorts off the floor and took off like a rocket into the kitchen, just as Keisha walked through the door.
“Hey baby. I didn’t know you was coming through this morning.” Keisha smiled widely as she sat her purse down.
“Yeah, I had to go through Heartside and holla at somebody, so I stopped by here to smoke a blunt, and see if you were done with that soft.”
“Oh yeah, boo. I finished up last night. I got the money upstairs.” Trying her best to look nonchalant, Peaches walked outta the kitchen drinking a glass of water. “Bitch! What the fuck you doing in here wit my man!”
Her man! This bitch is crazy! I thought to myself.
“I was here when you left crazy.” Peaches answered and sat down at the kitchen table.
“I don’t give a fuck! If he come here and I aint here to watch yo ass, then bitch you leave! I don’t trust no scandalous whores around my dude!” Her dude? What the hell she been smoking! “And why the fuck is you wearing my shirt? Where the fuck is yours?”
Oh shit. I looked down, saw Peaches’ t-shirt beside me and casually stuffed it in between the cushions of the couch.
“I spilled some Kool-Aide on it bitch damn. Stop being so fucking psycho. Damn Banks. Please stop fucking this broad so good cause she clearly can’t handle good pipe.”
“Good pipe! Bitch don’t be speaking on his shit! Just because I wanted to please my man by letting yo stupid ass get a lil taste, don’t get cut the fuck up! And what is that smell in here!” Keisha sniffed the air like she could smell the fuck floating around.
“Keisha!” I yelled to stop the madness.
“Huh bay?”
“Go get my damn money so I can go. I got shit to do.”
“Oh, sorry boo.” Keisha rolled her eyes at Peaches before heading up the steps. Quicker than greased lightening, she was back with three bands.
“I told you twenty - five hundred.” I said after counting the bread.
“I know. But you know it’s kinda dry out here, and that shit top of the line, so I taxed a few niggas. You know yo bitch got to make sure her daddy stays paid.” Keisha smiled proud of herself. “Oh, and guess what bay?”
“What?”
“My grandma died and left me and my two cousins some money.”
“Oh yeah? How much?”
“The insurance people said it was $50,000 dollars we have to split three ways.”
“Word up!”
“Yeah! And my two cousins are some distant ones that I don’t even know. He said they can’t find them, and if they can’t find them in twenty - one days, all the money automatically comes to me.”
“Damn I know you hope they lost!” Peaches broke in.
“Shut up bitch, I’m mad wit you.” Keisha rolled her eyes again.
“What you gone do with all that money Keisha?” I was just curious.
“Shit, give it to you of course daddy. What else. You know I’d just fuck it up.” She smiled happily.
“Yeah you dick drunk for real.” Peaches blurted out.
“Bitch shut yo dick suckers up! Aint nobody asked you nothing!
“Well just let me know what happens,” I said as I headed out the door, looking to the side at the big drops of Peaches’ nut over on the floor.
“I will baby I love you.”
It wasn’t till I got in the car that I realized I still had the rubber on my dick. Damn. What a morning.
Chapter 61 “The Trap”
After leaving the projects, I jetted back to Frank’s crib. By the time I’d left the trap, a mere two hours later, all thirty bundles I had wit me were gone. It was 10:30 am. I’d made almost $4,000 dollars since 6 A.M. Not counting the hour I’d spent at Keisha’s. I left Frank with the coke, and two ultimatums. One. You’ve got almost six thousand dollars’ worth of dimes the size of most niggas twenties. Don’t try to get over. Sell them for dimes like I told you to. That was the way my people wanted it so that’s the way it had to be. Just bring me thirty - five hundred off the dimes. The other four and a half ounces he’d sell like he wanted to. Just make sure I got three stacks. $6500 dollars in all. Cliental and promotion is the key to any good business I’d told him. Whether selling candy or rocket ships. It doesn’t matter. Same rule. Yes, Nicky baby. I beez in the trap. Real talk. The Untold Truth. This was a test for Frank. Was he really ready to be “Frank Money” again? Secondly, I told him to call his cousin Dino. Dino was a live wire nigga who was known for clapping that iron. He’d just recently beat a body and was even wilder than Shell.He only smoked weed, drank and did a lil powder though, so I figured he could handle the job. His only job would be to work as security. In every city, most crazy ass niggas, know the next crazy ass nigga. With him out on patrol it would make it a lot less likely for niggas to run up in the spot. Don’t get me wrong though, anybody can get got because it’s always niggas that don’t give a fuck who you are, they’ll try yo ass. Especially if they think it’s a nice lick. But with him over there with Frank, it would make it a lot less likely. Plus, Frank won’t no soft nigga either, and I knew he’d bust his gun. Tika had called me and asked why I wasn’t answering my phone. I asked her if she was high on something because this was the first time she’d called. She said, “No, I’m not talking about this phone. I’m talking about the one Mishka gave you.”
Oh shit! I’d completely forgotten about that phone. I’d thrown it in my room at mom dukes crib and left it. I was curious though about that shit though, so I assured her that I’d go get the phone and check the messages, before she made me promise to call her that night then hung up. Dope sells were still blowing up my shit, but I told them, that this wasn’t the number for that any more, and to call me back in an hour and I’d have the new one. Thirty minutes later I was leaving Radio Shack with a new, Verizon pre-paid wireless. Strictly for business. I’d picked up a wino from Buy Quik store, paid him fifty dollars and two fifths of white Thunderbird, to go in and purchase the phone in his name. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him. Perfect. Now I had two phones. One for business, one for pleasure. Three, if you count the phone Mishka gave me. It took another hour or so but finally everybody I’d previously given my number to, had the new trap phone number with instructions to never call the first one again or they’d be cut off forever. Once I’d sent Bubba and Jill back
to the hotel in a cab, where Jack should already have been, I’d walked the five blocks to pick up my car before I went to Radio Shack. And now I was back at my hideaway on Ross Road. Nobody knew about the spot but Tika, so If anything went down here, I’d know where it came from. My new phone was jumping already. The motherfucker wouldn’t stop ringing! In the next three hours between Maggie, Sandy, Kitty, Lisa and all the people they brought with them, I sold forty more bundles. Everybody they brought with them I gave my new trap number. Of course, they didn’t come to the hideaway. There was a cut a few houses down that led up into Rochelle Manor apartments. That’s where I’d have them meet me at. I actually had to turn the fuckin phone off, just to have time to smoke me a Dutch of the new shit Neese had, called “Cherry Trainwreck.” Tomorrow I’d have to go buy me a money counting machine. That shit was obvious. Before I go any further though, let me explain a couple things. First of all, in no way did I think or am I saying that I was about to sew the city up, or lock it down or no dumb shit like that. That’s impossible. That’s some T.V. shit. No one man or no one thousand men, can sew up all the drug money in Durham. It’s entirely too much of it. You can get your share though, and you can get rich, if you can stay off the radar of jealous, snake, and envious ass niggas. Fuck the police. You can get around the police. They don’t know shit, until somebody tells em. Unless you’re being a simple nigga and being too flashy and flaunting shit in their face. With no job and the fancy car with the big rims screaming “Hey look at me I’m selling drugs!” You’re rolling on twenty fours, just making it in the house as the cops are just going to work. You’re living lavish, while their barely making ends meet. They see this and this makes them hate you, and in turn come after you. It’s the same with the niggas in the street. Niggas can’t stand to see you doing better than they are. Most come from broken homes and while growing up, they see people getting outta the hood doing better, coming up while they’re stuck wearing the same hand me down clothes and shoes that are too small. Hatred becomes imbedded in them at an early age. They see their mothers constantly with different men running in and out of their lives. They hear her on the phone talking to her homegirl about the girl next door, saying, “Girl that nigga bought that bitch a car! And now she thinks she something, with her bald-headed ass. She thinks she’s better than us just because of this or that.” Growing up kids hear and see these things and it carries over into adulthood. The hatred and jealousy for anyone that they feel is doing better than they are. This is in any city in America. Not just Durham. The envy in them starts early. As the child grows into an adult, they take on the same traits that they’ve watched in their parents all their lives. Haters. Gossipers. But the key to beating this blatant hatred is simple. People only believe what they can see and hear. If they can’t see or hear you, then to them you don’t exit. Don’t show them anything and they won’t pray and pray for your downfall. They’ll be too busy praying on the downfall of the ones they can see and hear. Now, if you’re still not feeling my reasoning, then consider this example. In 1934 J. Edgar Hoover, then the Director of the F. B. I., declared one John Dillinger, a bank robber, Public Enemy Number One. It is noted that in this same year, it was Hoover himself which quoted, “That the Mafia,” a much more difficult target then Dillinger, “simply did not exist in America.” But yet just a few short months later, it was mob man “Dutch Schulz,” on orders from “Lucky Luciano” and what came to be known as the National Crime Syndicate, a nationwide Mafia board that which Dutch himself sat on, along with persons such as Luciano, Meyer Lansky, Vito Genovese, and Bugsy Siegal just to name a few, whom was gunned down along with his Lieutenants, in Newark, NJ, by the enforcement arm of “The Syndicate,” known as none other, than “Murder Inc.” Luciano was quoted in his own words as calling Schulz, a “loudmouth,” whom in the end sealed his own fate, by demanding the execution of a federal prosecutor, whom was building a case against him, named Thomas Dewey. Then, when refused by “The Syndicate,” Schulz became enraged and screamed, “Fine I’ll do it myself!” Dutch then, although of course not known by him, was ordered to be killed. For the plain and simple fact, that the syndicate, a group made up of the highest - ranking members of the five families, unanimously agreed with Luciano, that Schulz, was bringing entirely “too much attention,” to their cloak and dagger organization. In short, people only believe what they can see and hear. If they can’t see or hear it, then to them it simply doesn’t exist. And that ladies and gentlemen, is why the Mafia remains the most powerful, unseen, illegal force in American history. They don’t need to flaunt it, because they know they’ve got it. As the great Meyer Lansky, Lucky Luciano’s childhood running partner, and eventual right hand man, was quoted as saying one late afternoon in the mid 1970’s; “Were bigger than U. S. Steel.” And that was almost forty years ago. Their continuous success, is built on remaining “unseen”, and “closed lips”. With irrevocable consequences for breach of either one. The same could be said of John Gotti, and what eventually attributed to his inevitable undoing. Too flashy. Too loud. He caused the FEDS to hate him; too much. Although obviously one of the most brilliant criminals of his time, he was loved by few and hated by many. It is said, that when his right arm, and one - time lieutenant, whom will remain unnamed, would watch over him in his daily life; in his thousand dollar shoes, and four thousand dollar suits smiling for the cameras, he would be quoted as saying, “There he goes again. Acting like a nigger.” Please excuse me if I lose myself in the pages sometimes as I give you the real. You said you wanted it raw. So that’s how I’m giving it. If you wanna read some fairy tale shit, then go pick up one of those other urban novels. There’s been more than enough of that bullshit put out there over the years, for you to have plenty to choose from. I’m as real as it gets. And its time someone laid down the untold truth. One other subject that I’d like to briefly touch on. Is the fact that yes, as I’ve told you, Durham, (“The Bull City”) is the drugs and murder grandfather of North Carolina. Just because I don’t keep talking about it, doesn’t mean it’s not happening. I could go on and on about who killed who, and the dead bodies they found here and there, but right now I’m talking about other things. I will tell you this. Today is July 19th. There’s been 8 murders since June 18th. Five unsolved. Roughly two a week. Ask anybody in North Carolina about the “Bull City” and I guarantee you, the first thing they’ll tell you is, “Don’t go up there! They’re crazy! They’ll kill you!” I guarantee it. Most of my close friends that I had growing up, are dead. Violent deaths! If you’re out there in them streets getting your hands dirty, and you make it past the age of twenty - five, then look up to the heavens and thank god. Because you’ve just beaten the odds. Go to the video store or go online and watch the “Welcome to Durham” documentary. I gotta get back to my current story. My life. We’ll talk more about the murder rate later.
