The House that Hustle Built, Part 3

by Nisa Santiago

  “It’s good to hear your voice again, baby. I’m sorry for everything.”

  “Where’s your brother?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. We haven’t spoken to each other in months,” she lied.

  “Why not?”

  “Because of you. He’s still out for blood, Cash, and he wants your head on a platter. But I stood up for you. I told him that you’re the father of my unborn baby and I wasn’t goin’ to help him kill you. No matter what you think about me, Cash, I’m still in love with you.”

  Cash wasn’t buying her story. There was something off. Kwan and Sophie had always been close, and she loved her brother greatly. There was no way they would have a falling out over him. He was the one who cheated. He was the one who betrayed them by warning Pearla. It didn’t make any sense, but he continued to entertain her.

  “Do you know what you’re havin’?”

  “I’m having a boy. You’re gonna have a son.”

  “A son, huh?”

  “Yes. Are you excited?”

  Cash walked toward the window and took a quick peek outside. It had become a routine thing for him—always checking, always being observant.

  “I wanna see you, Cash. Please!” she said. “I just want you to come home. I want us to be a family.”

  “A family?”

  “Yes.”

  “So we supposed to become the Brady Bunch overnight, after everything that’s happened, and wit’ your brother looking to kill me?”

  “I know it’s crazy right now, but everything is gonna work itself out. You’ll see.”

  “How?” he asked.

  “Let me see you, and we’ll talk. I promise you, it will only be you and me, nobody else.”

  Cash was leery of a face-to-face with her. He didn’t believe he could ever have a family with her. The sex with her was good—great actually—but he never did see a future with Sophie. It was fun while it lasted.

  “I can talk to Kwan, and I’ll get him to see things my way. You know I can, Cash. I’ll get him to squash the beef he has wit’ you.”

  It sounded sweet, but Cash was still hesitant to meet up with her.

  “Besides, I have some information that you might want to have.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “I’m not gonna discuss it over the phone. You’ll have to meet me somewhere.”

  Cash heaved a sigh, and then he relented. “Okay, I’ll meet you. It’s gotta be in public and during the day.”

  Sophie smiled. “Wherever is comfortable for you, baby.”

  “The Starbucks in downtown Brooklyn. Meet me there at noon tomorrow,” he said.

  Sophie agreed.

  Cash felt comfortable meeting Sophie at a Starbucks in downtown Brooklyn. One, there would be hordes of people around. Two, there would be police; they were a heavy presence downtown. Three, he knew the area well. They would have to be stupid and crazy to try anything in that area with so many witnesses, traffic, and police. He was going to ready himself. He wasn’t about to be a fool and walk into a trap. No way.

  Twenty-Three

  Downtown Brooklyn was a busy area jumbled with office and residential buildings, traffic, people, and stores. The Starbucks on Fulton Street was the perfect location for Cash to meet with Sophie, being one of the busier stores around, with constant traffic flowing and the NYPD ever present.

  Cash made sure to arrive at the location a few hours before noon. It was still early, and the crowd wasn’t so thick. He parked his Lexus in the nearest garage and walked the streets armed with a neatly concealed .9mm. He was disguised, looking unassuming in a snug-fit beanie, dark glasses, heavy book bag, and a John Jay hoodie. He looked like one of the many college students that patronized the shops and stores in the area.

  Cash went into the Burger King across the street, ordered something simple, and went to the second floor of the fast-food establishment. He took a window seat, one that overlooked everything below, including the front entrance of the Starbucks across the street.

  Cash didn’t mind hanging out and staking out the place. He nibbled at his small order and took up time just chilling and watching everything around him. He had to be extra cautious. There was no telling who was watching the area too. But Kwan was never one for subtlety and patience.

  Around a quarter to ten, Cash saw Sophie and her brother Kwan get out of a Yukon. Sophie was pregnant; Cash could see that from a mile away. Kwan had also brought a few of his goons with him. They were over two hours early, thinking they were going to have the jump on him.

  Cash frowned. Sophie was trying to set him up again. He knew it. It was all a lie. He shook his head, knowing he had good reason not to trust that bitch. He lifted himself up from the table and made his exit quietly. He was furious—both his bitches didn’t give a fuck about him. He had to do it by himself.

  He said to himself, What did I ever do wrong? He had tried making peace, but there was no way around it. He had to get ready for war.

  Twenty-Four

  Perez couldn’t believe his luck. Due to improper procedures during the grand jury hearing and an error on the prosecution’s part, the judge dropped all of the charges against him. He was a free man. He had a second chance at life. Now he had a second chance to kill Cash and Pearla with his own free hands. He couldn’t wait. He was thirsting for it. He knew that sometimes if you want something done right, then you have to do it yourself.

  He lingered in the dayroom thinking about his release the following day. He stood alone, minding his business. He stayed his distance from Hassan. His last meeting with the man had been a disaster. It was no use trying to get Hassan to do his dirty work; the man was too smart for that.

  Hassan was holding court in the dayroom with his crew. No one dared to bother them, not even the guards. Perez watched them from a safe distance. He didn’t want any dealings with Hassan or his cronies. They already thought he was a jailhouse snitch. So he turned and went the opposite direction. Today would be his last day in this hellhole. Good riddance!

  Leaving the dayroom, one of Hassan’s young goons deliberately bumped into him and then stared him down like he was in the wrong. “Nigga, you forgot how to walk? Watch where you going!”

  Perez glared at him. He didn’t say a word.

  “You out tomorrow, huh, nigga. Have fun, and Hassan says hi,” the kid said.

  Perez didn’t respond. They were only trying to push his buttons. He was going home. He didn’t have to worry about Rikers Island anymore. Leaving the room, Perez noticed Hassan watching him, and he wondered what that was about. He shrugged it off and left.

  ***

  The following day, the paperwork for his release was processed, and Perez stepped out of Rikers Island jail a free and happy man. He looked up at the sky and smiled. God is good, he thought to himself.

  He boarded the next bus leaving the island and took a seat by the window. He exhaled, like Whitney, and looked at the people getting on the bus too. Two other inmates were also released, one older man and a younger female. Besides the three of them, the bus was packed with visitors leaving the island after their hour visit with loved ones.

  The bus crossed the bridge, and Perez got off at its first stop with only a few belongings on him. After the bus drove off, Perez saw his friend Monica standing by her white Lexus waiting for him in the parking lot. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. He hurried her way, and they hugged each other warmly.

  “I’m home, baby!” he announced excitedly.

  “I know they couldn’t keep you,” she said.

  “You know it.”

  Perez took a step back and stared at Monica dressed in a pair of tight denim jeans that accentuated her hips, high heels, and a black shawl. Her Puerto Rican complexion glimmered in the sunlight, and her long black hair was flowing in the light wind.

  “You loo
k nice,” he said.

  She smiled.

  “Let’s get the fuck outta here. I had enough of this place,” he said.

  She was about to get into the driver’s side, but Perez said, “Nah, baby, I’ll drive. I need you to keep busy with something else for me.”

  She tossed him the keys and smiled. She knew what he meant.

  He slid behind the wheel, and she rode shotgun. Perez thought he would never be behind the wheel of a car again. He’d thought he would never be back home. But he was, and he planned on taking full advantage.

  Perez steered Monica’s Lexus out of the jail parking lot and headed toward the highway. The moment he got onto the Grand Central Parkway, Monica leaned into his lap and unzipped his pants. She pulled out his dick and wrapped her full, glossy lips around it and started sucking him off.

  He moaned while keeping full control of the car. It had been a while since he’d enjoyed the feel of a woman. He needed something to help him escape for the moment, and a blowjob was the perfect remedy.

  Monica stroked his hard dick and worked his mushroom tip with her long tongue.

  “Oh shit! Damn! That feels good, baby,” he moaned. “I’m never gonna get locked up again. I missed this.”

  Monica’s head bobbed up and down with Perez’s dick down her throat as he did sixty on the parkway. He was going back to his old neighborhood to connect with his crew and some old friends. He had a lot to get back. He’d lost his chop shop and his business connects, and that was going to take some time to recover. But he was determined. Cash had ruined him, he felt, and now it was time to return the favor.

  Perez had one hand around the steering wheel and the other hand moving through Monica’s hair as she continued sucking his dick. She was a sexy and beautiful woman, and Perez felt blessed that she was there for him. She had been there for him since day one, sexually and emotionally.

  Monica was focused on pleasing him, wanting him to bust a nut while driving. Not once did she come up for air or to look around.

  “Oh shit! I’m gonna come!”

  Her mouth and tongue went into overdrive. Her lips were like a vacuum as she tried to milk the come from his balls. Her lips squeezed around his dick tighter, moving up and down, her tongue wrapped around his erection like a coiled snake. The rapid motion was mind-blowing.

  Perez came so hard, his sperm shot to the back of Monica’s throat. Monica didn’t budge. She swallowed every ounce of him without flinching at all. Surprisingly, Perez still kept control of the car on the highway. He didn’t even swerve.

  Monica propped herself back up in the front seat and wiped her mouth. Perez had the biggest smile on his face. It was his welcome-home gift. Now that he’d had his sexual healing, it was time to get back to business.

  The old neighborhood welcomed Perez with open arms when he climbed out of the Lexus with Monica by his side. His old crew, excited to see him back on the block, surrounded him with hugs and daps.

  Perez looked around and took it all in. When he was home and had things up and running, everybody was getting money. They loved him. He was the source of income to many of the folks on the block. He was fair, and he was cool. Then, because of a certain snitch, it all came to an end. He was down, but he wasn’t out.

  There was plenty to do. First thing, revenge—kill Cash and Pearla. He knew that bitch was with Hassan now, so the hit on her had to be subtle.

  Next, get another chop shop up and running. He needed to reach out to his old sources and let everyone know he was back home now. He’d stood tall while locked down. He told on no one and kept his head up. Everyone had to respect him for that.

  “Welcome home, Perez.”

  “It’s good to see you back.”

  “Yo, we ready to get this money again.”

  “I missed you.”

  “Yo, we ready to ride wit’ you, my nigga!”

  Perez was getting love from everyone. Without him, the hood wasn’t the same. He smiled. He felt that he was in a really good place. These were his peoples. They took care of him, and he took care of them.

  He looked at Monica and smiled at her. Though she was never his girlfriend, she had always been there for him too. He couldn’t wait to finish what they’d started in the car. He was hungry for some pussy. She was the one. He was ready to throw her legs back and pound away.

  The Brooklyn block was live. Some people were ready to start barbecuing on the street to make Perez’s homecoming a party. He was ready to celebrate and socialize, but first he wanted to shower and change clothes to wash away that jail scent.

  Perez felt like he had nothing to worry about in his neighborhood as he and Monica walked toward her building, talking and laughing. He felt human again. So when the burgundy minivan with the tinted windows drove his way, he didn’t seem concerned at all. It was just another passing vehicle on the street.

  Then suddenly the side doors flew open, and several armed gunmen jumped out of the minivan with automatic weapons and opened fire at him. Quickly, he and Monica took cover as bullets went flying by their heads, shattering car windows and piercing everything around them. The gunfire was loud and chaotic. They rushed toward him with one intent—murder!

  “Oh shit! Yo, they tryin’ to kill Perez,” someone from his crew shouted.

  More guns were pulled out, and a heated gunfight took place. Bullets went flying everywhere. People in the area quickly ran away and frantically took cover. Just like that, things went from a joyous event to the O.K. Corral. It was war on the block.

  Then, just like that, the shooting was over. The men in the van jumped inside the van and sped off as a few bullets shattered the back window, but inside no one was hit.

  When the gunfire ceased and the smoke cleared, Monica was screaming her head off. Perez was dead. He had been gunned down—a bullet in his head and one in his chest. She cradled his body in her arms and screamed in agony.

  His crew looked down at his body in disbelief. They were angry. He had just come home. How and why did it happen? Who sent the goons? It could have been anyone. But on top of the list was either Hassan or Cash.

  Twenty-Five

  With Cash acting like a pussy and a spineless fruitcake all of a sudden and Hassan locked up, Pearla hadn’t had sex in a while. Her body was yearning for it. So she had purchased a few sex toys and put them to use in the privacy of her bedroom.

  After drinking a half bottle of red wine, listening to some slow jams, and thinking about a few past lovers, she found herself wound up with lust. She had all the money she needed, thanks to Hassan, but she had no man to lie next to her, comfort her, and fuck her right. She had no friends. She felt alone. In the late evening, the only friend she had was her vibrator.

  Sprawled on her back with her legs spread, she put the vibrator against her clit. She moaned pleasingly. Her body heaved up and down. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the AAA batteries that were bringing her toy to life, along with her clit and pussy.

  She let out a loud moan as she felt her buildup. She worked the toy against her clit like it was magic. Her legs quivered with anticipation. She closed her eyes and whined louder, almost sounding like a siren. The sensation was taking her to a whole new place.

  Fuck everyone! she thought. Who needs a man? In today’s world, a good toy could please a woman just as well. But who was she fooling? She missed Cash’s long, deep strokes inside of her, his touch, and his kisses. Yes, a sex toy could please her and make her come, but it couldn’t hold her afterwards. It couldn’t speak and comfort her. It couldn’t give her reassurance and good company.

  Pearla needed to come. She needed some kind of pleasure in her life. She focused on her clit the most. The way the machine beat against her private spot, it was a wonder she didn’t take off and hit the ceiling. The walls of the bedroom absorbed her loud, passionate cries, and the dimmed light hid her naughtiness.

 
; Little beads of sweat covered her body. The muscles in her pussy were flexing. Her nipples were hard, and her flesh was burning up with a sensational orgasm approaching between her legs. She wanted to forget about the selfish prick, but the closer she came to orgasm, the more she thought about him. Why was she thinking about him? She had cursed him out at the motel. She finally saw his selfish ways and wasn’t blinded by him anymore. She had on her dark shades and turned her gaze away from the sun. But yet, there he was, his handsome image creeping into her mind while she masturbated and fingered herself and her vibrant machine was going into overdrive with her clit.

  Her chest heaved up and down rapidly. It was coming. She squirmed across her beige satin sheets. “Aaaah! Aaaah! Oh shit! Ooooh!” the sound spilled from her mouth like heated liquid. She exploded alone inside the bedroom and couldn’t help but to call out his name. “Oh, Cash!”

  When her orgasm was over, and she finally came to her senses, Pearla cursed herself for thinking about that fool while she was playing with her pussy. He didn’t deserve her time.

  She picked herself up from the bed and exhaled. Her naked body was still feeling the aftereffects from the toy. She went on trying to collect herself, but the moment she did, the doorbell sounded.

  It was late in the evening, and she wasn’t expecting company. She wondered who it could be. She donned her long robe and went to the door. Peeking outside, she saw it was Bimmy. She grimaced. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with him, but she had no choice. The nigga was Hassan’s errand boy, and maybe he had some important news to tell her. Pearla made sure her robe was securely tied before she opened the door.

  Bimmy walked in.

  She said, “Wow! He rings the doorbell this time.”

  Bimmy didn’t respond to her comment.

  “Why are you here, Bimmy?” Pearla kept a reasonable distance from him. The man gave her the chills. She would look into his eyes and felt that he was up to no good most times.

  He looked her up and down. “I just wanted to let you know, that fool Perez is dead,” he said.