Trust in No Man

by Cash

  Trust No Man

  Lock Down Publications

  & Ca$h Presents

  Trust No Man

  A Novel by Ca$h

  Lock Down Publications

  P.O. Box 1482

  Pine Lake, Ga 30072-1482

  Visit our website at www.lockdownpublications.com

  Copyright 2009 Ca$h Trust No Man

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in review.

  First Edition 2009

  Printed in the United States of America

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design and layout by: Marion Designs

  Book interior design by: Shawn Walker

  Edited by: Shawn Walker

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  Submission Guideline.

  Submit the first three chapters of your completed manuscript to ldpsubmissions@gmail.com, subject line: Your book's title. The manuscript must be in a .doc file and sent as an attachment. Document should be in Times New Roman, double spaced and in size 12 font. Also, provide your synopsis and full contact information. If sending multiple submissions, they must each be in a separate email.

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  Acknowledgments

  When you’ve stomped the streets in my size tens from Cleveland, Ohio to ATL, where I put my hustle and gangsta down with the best of them. And as a consequence, been buried alive in prison for the past 26 years. Best believe,time has shown whose love is real and whose was flex. Most of y’all was only on my dick because I had the block on lock and you feared me.

  Well, now I know who is who. To the few whose love has proven to be real, I sincerely thank you for holding me down. To the fake hobbies and females who counted me out a long time ago—I’m still pushing weight, fam,but now it’s straight legit. And I’m putting the urban literary game in a choke-hold just like I did the projects back in the day.

  On the humble side of things, I owe thanks to my Ma Duke, first and foremost. Mama, you’re the only angel I’ve ever known. To my seeds—Destiny, Keke, Kia, Shawt, Lil Cash, Cortez, Fred—I love you all. That’s why I’ve never given up. I do this for each one of you. To my son, whom I don’t know, I’ll find you one day. Only death can keep us apart.

  Much love to my siblings, my nieces, nephews and extended relatives. When it comes down to the raw facts, family is all we got.

  Last but not least, shout out to everyone associated with LOCK DOWN PUBLICATIONS. The authors, readers, and all of you that help make us a movement.

  Special thanks to the Queen and COO of LDP, Shawn Walker. Black woman, you are one of a kind.

  Peace.

  CHAPTER 1

  It was an unseasonably cool, late summer night in the ATL. The jackmobile came to a quiet stop two houses away from the targeted address. Lonnie and Shotgun Pete, dressed in all black, wearing ski masks and packing heat, quickly hopped out of the vehicle and rushed up on the porch of the house they had been casing out for the past two weeks.

  Terrence aka Youngblood, who was a virgin in the stickup game, remained behind the wheel of the jackmobile, a plain, black Crown Victoria, ready to mash out as soon as his partners returned. He was only sixteen, but he was trained to go and was looking to make a name for himself on the streets.

  Steve, a mid-level dope boy, was chillin’ on the living room sofa with his wife and their newborn son when the front door came crashing in.

  “Ahhhh!” Steve’s girl let out a loud scream before the back end of Pete’s shotgun wickedly slammed against her mouth, knocking out two of her front teeth and sending a spray of blood in the air.

  “Make another sound, bitch, and I’ll blow ya mafuckin’ head off!” barked Shotgun Pete, standing over the crumpled woman.

  Lonnie had his Desert Eagle trained on Steve, who had his hands up in the air as if he was surrendering to the cops.

  “Pussy nigga, you know what it is. Where that money and dope at?” demanded Lonnie.

  “I ain’t got no dope, man,” replied Steve in a frightened voice. “But I got a coupla thousand dollars.”

  Whop!

  Lonnie smacked him with the burner. “Nigga, you better have more than a coupla racks or it’s gon’ get real ugly up in this bitch!”

  “Fam, that’s all I got! I swear to you, man!”

  Lonnie and Shotgun Pete wasn’t tryna hear that. They led Steve, his wife, and their infant into the kitchen, where they found the two thousand dollars inside a flour can.

  Ain’t no way this all the money this nigga got around here. Shotgun Pete frowned. “Nigga, you wanna play games? I bet this will make you come correct.”

  He snatched the baby from Steve’s girl’s grip and put it inside the microwave. He was so geeked up on powder it made him heartless.

  “Nooo!” The woman screamed, but her shrill cry got drowned out by the loud sound of Pete’s shotgun.

  Boom!

  Shorty’s whole head disintegrated.

  Steve lunged at Shotgun Pete and just as quickly Lonnie’s Desert Eagle went off.

  Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc! Boc!

  Steve’s body was lifted in the air by the succession of shots, and it came crashing down to the floor next to his wife’s.

  Kaboom!

  Shotgun Pete blasted a hole in Steve’s chest just to be sure he was dead. “Made me get blood on my shit!” he remarked, looking down at his shoes.

  Lonnie took the baby out of the microwave and carried him back to the playpen in the living room. “Let’s go!” he said.

  “I would’ve cooked that lil’ muthafucka,” said a heartless Shotgun Pete as they hurried outside and walked briskly back to the car.

  “Nigga, you’re buggin’. I wouldn’t have let you do no foul shit like that.” Lonnie shook his head at his partner’s coldness.

  When they reached the whip, Youngblood questioned them. “What da fuck happened in there? I heard a—”

  “Just drive, nigga!” Shotgun Pete snapped. He didn’t really like Youngblood, but he tolerated him since Lonnie fucked with him.

  Youngblood, felt that hater shit leaking out of Pete’s pours like a toxic germ. He didn’t know what that muthafucka’s problem was but he knew he hadn’t done a goddam thing to him.

  Had Youngblood been able to see into Shotgun Pete’s cold, black heart, he would’ve known that he was jealous of him because he peeped a thoroughness in Youngblood that he lacked himself.

  Lonnie couldn’t quite understand his boy’s attitude toward the youngin’,
either. In fact, he was beginning to give him the side-eye about a few things, as of late.

  Him and Shotgun Pete, who were both 27 years old, had known each other since their early teens. They had been robbing together for the past two years, but lately Shotgun Pete’s snorting habit had become a serious concern. Lonnie felt that cocaine made his partner unreliable, so he took it upon himself to add a third person to their team.

  “From now on, Youngblood is gonna rock with us,” he’d announced two weeks ago without consulting Shotgun Pete first.

  “Why? It’s been just the two of us all this time, and shit been gravy. We don’t need another nigga eatin’ off of our plate!” Shotgun Pete complained.

  But Lonnie didn’t waver, and eventually Shotgun Pete conceded to his decision, though begrudgingly.

  “I’ma roll with it, but Youngblood bet’ not step on my toes. And if you ever cross me for that nigga, I’ma send both of y’all to meet Jesus!” he spat.

  “Nigga, you’ll meet Him before I would,” Lonnie warned. And he meant that shit.

  As they dropped Youngblood off in front of his girl’s crib, Pete thought, Well at least I’ll get a chance to holla at his bitch. They say she got that bomb pussy and a fool ass head game.

  Pete’s dick stiffened a bit as he imagined fuckin’ Shan. He felt like she wanted to cut something with him as bad as he wanted to run up in her, but the timing had never been right for them to hook up.

  But that’s all about to change. Pete smiled wickedly as he watched his new partner in crime walk up on Shan’s front porch.

  ***

  Youngblood stood outside of the apartment door in Englewood projects in Southeast Atlanta, where he lived with his sixteen-year-old baby mama and her family. Before knocking on the door, he took off the black sweatshirt and stuffed the ski mask inside his pants pocket. He didn’t want his girl all up in his business.

  Shan’s mother, Poochie, let him in almost as soon as he knocked. One look at her told him that she was geeked up, as usual. Her eyes were big like saucers, and she kept licking her dry lips.

  “Loan me ten dollars,” she begged as soon as he stepped through the door.

  “I ain’t got no money.” He brushed past her.

  “Yo ass ain’t never got no damn money! You’re gonna start paying some bills around here or you gon’ have to move out. You and Shan ain’t gon’ just lay up in my shit, for free, making babies. I don’t know what the fuck y’all think this is!” she cussed, mad because he wouldn’t support her habit.

  Ignoring her, Youngblood headed down the hall to the bedroom. When he got inside, he saw Shan’s silhouette up under the covers on the bed. Quietly, he stripped down to his boxers and slid under the covers with her.

  “You sleep, shawdy?” Youngblood whispered as he scooted closer and spooned their bodies together. A few seconds later, his dick was jumping and his hand eased between her thighs.

  Shan came awake with a full attitude. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me! You think I’ma fuck you after you been out in the streets slinging dick all night? Nigga, you got me twisted!” She angrily scooted to the edge of the bed.

  “Girl, you trippin, ain’t nobody been out slinging dick. You must be creepin’, ‘cause you always accusing me.”

  “Whatever! Just don’t touch me,” she spat, but being the nigga that he was, Youngblood was unperturbed.

  “Oh, it’s like dat? You ain’t my bitch no more?” he asked, pulling her back close to him. But she snatched away and scooted back to the edge of the bed again.

  “If I’m a bitch, you a bitch nigga!” said Shan.

  She was tryna start an argument so that she’d have an excuse to go hookup with her girls, Cita and them, tomorrow and go kick it with some ballers from the Westside.

  Youngblood suspected her of being up to something shady. He knew Shan had a reputation for being loose with her pussy, but he tried not to judge her on her past. Besides, she had shown him love when his own mother hadn’t.

  While Youngblood was in the Youth Detention Center, his moms, Ann, had gotten married to a lame, ex-military nigga named Raymond. Youngblood hated Raymond on sight, and the feeling was mutual. Two weeks after coming home from YDC, he and Raymond butted heads over a curfew Youngblood flat out refused to respect.

  “Nigga, you ain’t my pops, and I’m not a lil’ boy. You better get the fuck outta my face with that sucka shit before I put you in a body bag,” threatened Youngblood.

  Raymond didn’t cower, though. He met Youngblood’s fire with equal aggression, which led to a violent fist fight.

  Ann and Toi, Youngblood’s mother and little sister, was screaming and trying their best to separate the two, but Youngblood was intent on letting Raymond know that he wasn’t to be fucked with.

  “That’s all you got, nigga?” He taunted after taking a punch in the face from Raymond.

  Youngblood shook the blow off and countered with a four punch combination that buckled Raymond’s knees.

  Raymond wobbled but he didn’t go down. He quickly regained his balance and charged at Youngblood like a raging bull. They wrestled around and went blow for blow until they were both bleeding and out of breath.

  Afterwards, Raymond kicked him out of the house. Ann and Toi cried as Youngblood packed his few belonging and bounced, but Youngblood was glad to leave.

  “Bitch ass nigga, you can get these hands put on you again! Anytime you’re ready,” he spat at Raymond right before slamming the door behind him.

  Having no other family in the city, he went back to Englewood, where he had grown up. Those projects embraced him no matter what.

  That same day he bumped into Shan, his little childhood sweetheart. Back when they were little snot-nosed kids, Shan had enticed him to put his weener in her bun. He’d heard that she was out there now—legs open all-night like a drive-thru. But when he saw her on her front porch, looking like a young Serena Williams, Youngblood discounted all of the rumors, he had to hit that.

  Shan was game, too.

  Laying up with him wasn’t a problem. Crack had her mama in such a choke hold, she didn’t care if her teenage daughter let boys spend the night, as long as they broke her off a few dollars or a rock or two.

  Youngblood did both, and then he laid up with Shan that first day, got sprung on the pussy and never left.

  Ten months later, she gave birth to his son Terrence Jr., whom they called Lil’ T.

  In Youngblood’s eyes, that made Shan his girl forever, because he damn sure wasn’t going to allow her to have his seed around no other nigga. So, whatever she was tripping about, she needed to get over that shit.

  “Shawdy, you know you’re my heart, don’t you?” Youngblood asked, whispering in her ear while scooting over closer, reaching around and rubbing her nipples through the sheer nightgown she had on.

  “Don’t be touchin’ me! That other bitch must wouldn’t give you no pussy tonight.”

  “See, that’s where you got the game all wrong. You’re my one and only.” One hand gently pinched a nipple, the other rubbed her thighs and his dick was pressed hard against that junk in Shan’s trunk. He nibbled on the back of her neck and shoulders while his fingers spread her pussy lips. “Damn, you’re hot, shawdy.”

  “Stop. I. Told. You…”

  “You told me what?” He pressed two fingers down on her clit and rubbed in a circular motion.

  “Stop—nigga,” Shan tried to hiss but it came out as a pleasurable moan.

  “Open your legs.” She did so reluctantly. “Yeah, just like that.” Youngblood breathed hard in her ear.

  Shan’s legs gapped open involuntarily as his fingers sent heatwaves through her body. “Ooh, you finna make me cum.”

  “And?” he whispered in her ear, still playing with her clit.

  “I should’ve never taught you how to turn me on, now your ass use it as my weakness,” she half complained while thrusting her pussy up to meet his touch.

  “Shut up and cum for me.”

 
; “Okay, boo,” she moaned.

  “This my pussy, ain’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me, then,” he was rubbing her clit faster now.

  “It’s your pussy, daddy! I’ma make it cum for you,” Shan cried. Then she came, shaking all over.

  When her body stopped shaking, Youngblood said, teasingly, “I thought you wanted me to stop.”

  “Shut up!” Shan punched him in the shoulder.

  “I’m just saying, baby mama, you talked all that shit then folded.” He laughed.

  “So! You got a bitch hot. Your black ass knew what you were doing. You gon’ make me cum some more?” she asked in a voice thick with desire for him.

  Youngblood smiled, he was really feeling himself. “Want me to eat your pussy from the back, like you taught me?”

  “Yeah, you so nasty,” she cooed, getting into position.

  As soon as her ass went up and her face went down, Youngblood stepped to his business, eating her pussy like it was a Georgia peach.

  He made Shan cum so hard, she saw stars.

  After regaining her vision, she looked at him and ran her tongue over her lips. “Now, let me suck that dick.”

  “Come get it.” Youngblood rolled onto his back.

  Shan wasted no time. She crawled between his legs and covered the head of his pipe with her mouth.

  “Ummmm!” he moaned as she proceeded to slurp in his pole.

  Later, they smoked a blunt together and then fell asleep in each other’s arms, fully satiated.

  The next day, people in the hood was talking about Steve and his lady being robbed and killed. Steve wasn’t from Englewood, but he was well known in the A because he was a flosser. Everybody in the projects was talking about the double murders, particularly, as it was reported in the news that the couple had been shot gunned to death.