Hungry for the Paper

by Hood Rich

  Paper scooted his chair away from the table and stood up on wobbly legs. Stepping forward a little unbalanced, he opened his arms for me to step inside of them. “Nigga, you already know we eat off the same plate. Everything I have is yours. I love you, boy!”

  I looked him up and down, trying to calm my anger, feeling the remnants of our attack by Fax and his shooter. I stood there for a few seconds, not feeling like hugging my nigga, even though I loved him just as much. I thought about all that we had been through, and how through it all we’d always had each other’s back.

  I knew for a fact that Fax would never get away with what he did to us, and that we’d get his ass back, and make him pay in a sadistic fashion. For now, we had to focus in on getting some immediate paper.

  ***

  Thirteen hours later I stood on the side of the Mexican’s dude’s house as Paper placed one of his Jordan’s into my clasped hands. I lifted him up into the bedroom window that we’d pried open with the use of a screw driver. It slowly began to drizzle outside before the rain was coming down in a steady pour, leaving me drenched within minutes. The ski mask that I wore over my face stuck to it and made me feel as if there were little bugs crawling on my skin under it.

  After Paper slid into the window, he helped me to hoist myself up and inside. We fell onto the floor of the small bedroom before getting up and pulling out our pistols. My heart pounded in my chest. I felt as if I had a shortness of breath, and I kept passing gas from being so nervous.

  Paper waved me to follow him. We walked across the bedroom that consisted of a small bed in the middle of it, along with a brown dresser and 13-inch color television that somebody had left on the local news.

  Paper reached for the door knob and slowly turned it. Pulling the door open, before sticking his head partway out of it, he looked both ways, then jerked his head back inside. “Bruh, it’s dude and another nigga sitting at the table tooting lines and sipping on a bottle of Tequila. Let’s bum rush they ass, get the merch and get the fuck out of here. I’m letting you know right now if I smell anything fishy, I’m bussing ASAP,” he said just low enough for me to hear him.

  I nodded and swallowed. I was down to do the lick one hundred percent, but I wasn’t trying to catch no body over the lil’ chump change that we’d come for. I mean, don’t get me wrong, if I had to, I was gon’ pull that trigger. I was just hoping that I could leave with the same number of bullets that I came with.

  So, as the sweat poured down my back, I watched Paper slowly open the door with his gun raised, then all at once he shot out of the room with me behind him.

  “Put yo’ muthafucking hands in the air or I swear to God I’m knocking yo’ heads off. Let’s go!” he hollered.

  There was one heavy-set Mexican man that had just leaned down to toot up his line of coke. When he saw us, he raised his head with eyes wide open, and looked like he was about to have a heart attack. He choked on his spit and pushed his chair away from the table, standing up with is hands in the air. “Say Vato, don’t shoot, por favor. I’m just visiting.”

  I stepped forward and put my pistol under his chin. “Shut the fuck up and sit back down.” I ordered, cocking the hammer on the .38 Special.

  He nodded and sat back in the chair with his eyes closed. “Dios Mio, I don’t wanna die tonight.” He whimpered.

  Paper snatched up the skinny, teenage looking Mexican and slammed him into the wall before putting the gun to his temple. “Check this out, Essay. I know you got a kilo of dope in this bitch and a few gees. All you gotta do is take me to the merch, and you and this old head can leave with your lives. But if you play with me, I’m stanking both of you muhfuckas. Now, where the shit at?” He asked through clenched teeth, forcing the barrel into the skinny kid’s cheeks.

  “Say, chill, Homes. I’ll take you to it. Just get it and leave. It ain’t worth dying over,” he said in a calm voice.

  Paper yanked him away from the wall and threw him aggressively into the kitchen, where he fell to his knees. “A’ight then, let’s get to it. Lead me to the money.”

  The skinny kid looked up and nodded before slowly climbing to his feet, then they disappeared to the back of the house.

  Meanwhile, the heavy-set Mexican man had his hands clasped together, praying out loud in Spanish. I didn’t know what he was saying but it freaked me out when tears started to roll down his chubby cheeks. I felt bad for him and prayed that I didn’t have to hurt him or nothing.

  About three minutes later, Paper came from the back of the house with a black garbage bag in his hand, walking behind the skinny Mexican kid that he had his gun pointed to the back of his head.

  The skinny kid had his hands in the air with his face lowered. “Say, Homes, that’s everything. How about you get the fuck out of here now, Vato?” he uttered with a scowl on his face.

  I pulled the fat one out of the chair and flung him to the floor, forcing him to lay on his stomach. “Close yo’ eyes, man, and don’t open them muhfuckas until I tell you to!” I hollered.

  “Please, don’t kill me!” he whimpered, before closing them and beginning to pray at the top of his lungs.

  “Yo, we good or what?” I asked Paper.

  He raised the bag and turned back to the skinny kid. “Get on yo’ knees homie and lay on yo’ stomach so we can get the fuck out of here.”

  The skinny kid lowered himself to one knee before getting onto the other one. Once there, he slowly got on his stomach and closed his eyes. “Just leave Homes. A loss is a loss.”

  I slowly made my way to the back of the house, opening the door wide, while Paper was saying something to him.

  The next thing I knew, Paper was running toward me. “Let’s go bruh, its good!”

  We hit it out of the backdoor and hit it down the alley to the next block on to where Paper’s Monte Carlo was parked. Once there, we jumped in and stormed away from the curb, me with a big ass smile on my face and my heart beating like an African drummer.

  ***

  Early the next morning, we sat in Paper’s trap house living room, breaking our spoils down the middle. I walked away with $4,000 and seventeen ounces of Peruvian Flake that was barely touched.

  “Yo, I’mma get some sleep for a few hours, Rich, then I want you to hit me up at about one in the afternoon, so we can get on our grind. It’s time to get money and get our shit together so we can go at that nigga Fax when the time is right, nah mean?” He stepped forward and gave me a half of hug.

  I pat him on the back before backing up a lil’ bit. “A’ight but make that like three. I gotta get some sleep too. I’m tired as hell.”

  As I was opening the door to the house with the black plastic bag in my hand, filled with the seven ounces of cocaine, Andrea was pulling up in front of the house after dropping off my sisters at school. She tapped the horn once then jumped out of the car, making her way up the stairs with a smile on her pretty face. The rays of the sun allowed for her light freckles to pop. I thought it made her look so sexy because I had only seen a few black females with freckles. I felt like she was a rare breed of beautiful, and every time I saw her she did something to me both mentally and physically.

  “Oh, nigga, I know you tripping. You call yo’ ass coming into my house at eight in the morning. We about to have a major fight. I hope you ready for it,” she said, climbing the steps until she was standing in my face. Her perfume floated up my nose.

  I had to close my eyes as I felt my piece hardening. She brushed past me and into the house.

  I stepped inside and closed the door behind me, looking down into her brown eyes. “Aw. So, what? You gon’ give me a whoopin’ or somethin?” I teased, stepping forward and placing my forehead against hers.

  She took a step back after pushing me just a little to create space between us. She shook her head, looking disgusted. “Look, I ain’t playing, Rich. You been out there all-night long. You better have some good news or we finna have a serious problem.” She scrunched her forehead and looked up t
o me with anger.

  I scoffed. “Oh really? It’s like that?” I asked, taking the bag from my right hand and grabbing it with my left. I felt a lil’ odd having her charge me up like that. Like she was my pimp or something.

  She crossed her arms in front of her and nodded. “It’s just like that. Ain’t no way you finna be on that type of shit.”

  I walked past her into the dining room, sat the bag on top of the table and pulled out the seventeen ounces of dope, balled up the bag and sat it in the chair. Then, I went into my pocket and pulled out the four gees that I’d gotten from the lick. “Here. These four gees right here. I got another four in the room. That’ll be eight total. I’ll have that other two in a day or so. I should make about forty-seven gees from this lil’ seventeen zips right here, so from here on out I don’t need you to give me nothing. I’mma figure everything out on my own,” I said, handing her the money and making my way into the room where I laid my head while I stayed with her. Once there, I picked up the mattress and dug my hand in the hole in the box spring, taking out the ten that was inside of it. I counted out nine gees and handed it to her. “Matter of fact, here go another nine. Now, all I owe you is two. Like I said, you’ll have that in a day or so.”

  She took the money with her eyes wide open. “Rich, look, I wasn’t trying to make you feel less than a man or nothing. I should’ve known you was out there on your business. I’m sorry, baby. You know what?” She tossed the money onto my bed and wrapped her arms around my neck, laying her head on my chest.

  Off of pure instinct, I trailed my hands down her back until I was cuffing that big ass through her mini skirt. I yanked it upward and rubbed all over her hot skin. Pulling her cheeks apart I ran my forefinger up and down her crease from the back, feeling the satin of her panties. It felt warm to the touch.

  She moaned and pressed backward into my finger. “Umm, baby, here you go again.”

  I gripped that ass, leaned down and bit into her neck, sucking loudly while my fingers snaked their way into her leg hole. I rubbed all over her naked pussy lips. “I need to hit this pussy again, Andrea. I’m feening for it.” I groaned, ripping her panties down her legs before pushing her over my bed and spreading her legs apart roughly. I unzipped my pants, pulling my boxers down, and ran my piece head up and down her wet slit.

  “Uhh!” She reached behind herself and tried to push me away, but I wasn’t going.

  I put my forearm into her back, forcing her to the bed, took my dick and eased it inside of her hotness.

  “Uhh! Get off of me, Rich! Please!” she whimpered and spread her legs further apart.

  I slammed into her with brute force, took a hold of her hips, eased her off my dick, then pulled her all the way back so hard that her ass jiggled. I picked up the pace and grabbed a handful of her curly hair. Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack! My pipe continued to fly in and out of her wet hole. The headboard crashed into the wall. It didn’t take long for her scent to rise into the air, driving me crazy. Her hot muscle was milking me for all I was worth.

  “Uh, uh, uh, uh, Rich, ooo-a, baby, baby, you, fucking me so hard again.” She whimpered, sounding as if she was out of breath. “Uhh! Uhh! Uhh! Slow down. Please. Please, baby.”

  I yanked her head backward by the use of her hair and sped up the pace. It felt like her kitty was a fist filled with some type of hot oil. Every time she bounced back into me, I felt like I wanted to cum.

  Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. Harder and harder. I was trying to reach inside of her stomach. Her titties bounced up and down inside of her Fendi tube top. They looked as if they were about to pop out. I wanted to see them again. I needed too. The sight of her nipples would send chills through me.

  “Pull, that, top down, Andrea! Pull it down!” I hollered. “Damn, shit, this pussy so good, ma.” I slammed into her shit and felt her pussy wrap around my pole, suffocating me.

  “Ahhhh! Shit! Rich! You fucking the shit out of me!” She clenched her teeth and looked over her shoulder at me as the steady clapping of our skins resonated throughout the room loudly.

  Between our legs you could hear the noise of her juices spitting all over my pipe. Her cream oozed out of her and down my leg.

  I pulled out of her, picked her up and threw her back on my bed. I yanked her tube top upward, so I could see those pretty titties that had been forbidden to me my whole life. Now they were mine to do whatever to them that I pleased. I leaned down and sucked the right nipple into my mouth as I lined my dick back up and slammed into her with animal force. I was long-stroking her with all that I had, while she twisted on the bed of money.

  “Rich! Rich! Awww, shit! Rich! I love you! I love you so much! Aww, shit, fuck me! Fuck meeee-a!” She screamed before sitting up and falling back down, screaming at the top of her lungs.

  I took both legs and put them on my shoulders, stroking her for all that I was worth. Her pussy got wetter and wetter. I zoomed in on the way her nipples stood out from her breasts. Her titties jiggled. There was a little drool coming from the corners of her mouth. All that shit looked sexy to me. It meant that she was enjoying my body just as much as I was enjoying hers. I dug my nails into her thighs and clenched my teeth as I felt my seed getting ready to shoot out of me.

  My eyes got low. I felt dizzy and happy at the same time. Then, the next thing I knew I was coming in large globs deep within her womb while she licked all over her lips and jerked under me uncontrollably.

  “Arrrgh! Shit!” I hollered, slamming my hips into her center.

  Her juices leaked from my pipe and dripped onto the bed sheets. As she was screaming at the top of her lungs with her eyes closed, something told me to look to my left toward the door of my bed room. When I did, my heart damn near dropped into my stomach. I almost broke my neck when pulling out of her.

  Chapter 5

  “You dirty bitch!” Maxwell hollered, running toward the bed with his fists balled up.

  Before I could get all the way off of Andrea, he reached and grabbed a handful of her hair, yanking her head roughly.

  “Ahh! Let me go, Maxwell!” she hollered in pain, popping her legs open as she tried to fight him off with her fists swinging wildly in his direction.

  I fell to the floor, reached for my boxers and slipped them up my thighs before gathering myself.

  He straddled her to the floor. Smack. “Punk bitch!” Smack. “You in here fucking this lil’ boy!” Smack. “I should kill yo’ trifling ass.” Smack.

  I heard Andrea yelp in pain the last time before I ran over and punched Maxwell so hard that he flew into the dresser with blood running out of his mouth. I grabbed Andrea by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “Go in your room and lock the door. I’ll handle this nigga.” I growled looking down on her.

  Her lip dripped blood from his attacks. She nodded and slowly backed out of the room, then got stuck in the door way, looking me over nervously. “Rich, maybe he and I should talk about this. I mean, I was wrong. I should’ve. Watch out!”

  By the time I looked, Maxwell had already tackled me into the wall with his head down. My head jerked on my neck as I crashed into the wall, leaving a big ass hole inside of it, then he was punching me in the face over and over again. Bam, bam, bam. Blow after blow.

  “Bitch ass nigga!” Bam, bam. “Mind yo’ muthafuckin’ business!” He swung again, trying to connect with my jaw, but I ducked, and his fist contacted the wall, slamming into it hard. “Aww, fuck!” he groaned in pain.

  It was all the distraction that I needed. With my nose bloodied and dripping off of my lip, I took a step back and then, with all of my strength, stepped forward and punched him square in the mouth. I knocked him into the dresser once again before I rushed him, swinging and connecting. Bam. One to the jaw. Bam, bam. One to the chin and an uppercut. He fell to one knee.

  I grabbed his head and brought his face to my own knee, slamming it into it, feeling the bone crush his nose before he flew backward and passed out on the floor.


  Then, I was stomping him like a bitch, over and over again. “Get. Yo’. Punk. Ass. Up. Nigga!” Afterward, I straddled him and rained down blow after blow, imagining him beating Andrea, taking advantage of her just like a coward. I completely blacked out while whooping him.

  “Rich! Rich! Stop! Stop! You killing him! You killing him, Rich! Please, stop!” Andrea yelled, trying her best to pull me off of this chump.

  By the time I came back to reality his blood was all between my fingers and on my chest. I shook my head then stood up, looking down on him in a state of panic. His face was completely covered in blood. His lip was the size of a boxing glove. Both eyes were puffy and closed. He groaned in pain, tried to speak, but nothing but saliva came out of his mouth.

  I reached down and pulled him up by his shirt, violently, putting my forehead against his. “Listen to me, you bitch ass nigga. If I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I’ma murk you. I don’t give a fuck if you take this shit out on me. I’ma man, I can handle it, but you leave this shit between me and you. She ain’t got shit to do with it. You got that?” I asked, tightening my grip on his shirt.

  He nodded. Five minutes later, I was throwing him off of the porch and into the grass, while the sun beamed down on the both of us. The humidity was so bad that even though I was in my boxers, I still felt suffocated. He slowly made his way to his feet and staggered to his truck. He only looked over his shoulder one time before opening the door, getting in and pulling away.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later, and after I’d gotten out of the shower, I was met by the sights of Andrea pacing in the living room with her head down. She was mumbling something to herself that I couldn’t quite make out.

  I slipped into my Gucci shorts and tossed a grey Gucci wife beater on over my head, finishing the fit with a Gucci belt and matching gray and blue Air Max 95s. I grabbed my pistol off of the dresser and walked into the living room where she continued to pace. I put the .38 into the small of my back and blocked her path. “Andrea, what’s wrong with you?” I asked sincerely, concerned about her well-being.