What's Really Hood!: A Collection of Tales from the Streetsby Wahida Clark
WHAT'S REALLY HOOD!
Black Is Blue by Victor L. Martin delves into the life of a corporate woman who falls in love with a thug and finds out just how easy it is to stray from the straight and/i>/i>
Life in the streets take on a whole new meaning in this urban anthology of "hood" tales compiled by New York Times bestselling author Wahida Clark
WHAT'S REALLY HOOD!
Black Is Blue by Victor L. Martin delves into the life of a corporate woman who falls in love with a thug and finds out just how easy it is to stray from the straight and narrow.
Eighteen and hungry Wiz's only addiction to drugs is the money it made. But Crystal changed all of that and shows him just how powerful a woman can be in The P is Free by LaShonda Teague.
In The Last Laugh by Bonta, Bobo, a member of the infamous Eight-Trey street gang, learns that gang life isn't all it's cracked up to be as "street wars" take on a whole new meaning.
Shawn "Jihad" Trump tells the story of loyalty, love and honor, when The Point Blank Mob is brought to its knees leaving the crew fighting for their lives and freedom in All for Nothing.
And New York Times bestselling author, Wahida Clark, introduces Nina, a woman tired of being disrespected by men who takes revenge to the ultimate level in Makin' Endz Meet.
- Grand Central Publishing
- Publication date:
- Sold by:
- Hachette Digital, Inc.
- NOOK Book
- Sales rank:
- File size:
- 565 KB
Read an Excerpt
What's Really Hood!A Collection of Tales from the Streets
By Clark, Wahida
Grand Central PublishingCopyright © 2010 Clark, Wahida
All right reserved.
BLACK IS BLUE
BY VICTOR L. MARTIN
Raleigh, North Carolina
Desiree Eason was young, black and sexy and far from being a follower of the norm. You know the stereotype of a black woman: sexually wild, two or more kids by different men, a boyfriend that’s locked up, willing to open her legs for a man based on his flashy whip. Nah, Desiree was above and beyond that. Her looks were conservative but easily sexy. She was a petite size five, standing flat-footed at five-two with clear mocha skin. Her brownish hair, which she usually kept in a simple ponytail, hung past her delicate shoulders. Her light hazel eyes were inviting and between them sat her cute pert nose. Her lips were thin and sexy and stayed coated with the lightest touch of lip gloss. Her measurements were 34B-23-34. Desiree was a certified legal assistant for Shaw, Barnes and Rivers Attorneys at Law. Not bad for a twenty-three-year-old single-by-choice black female. At the moment she was headed back to her office with her laptop in one hand and her Donald J Pliner bag slung across her left shoulder while chatting on her Audiovox picture flip phone. Just as she reached for the doorknob while shouldering her cell phone to her ear, a rude comment easily gained her attention.
“Damn, she got a nice ass.”
Desiree promptly told her roommate to hold on for a second. “Excuse me!” she said as she turned around, eyeing the four black men lounging in the waiting area of the cozy law office. The comment was rude, but in truth… the truth was told. Desiree was filling out her clingy tweed Calvin Klein pants mighty nicely. In truth, she had a lovely ass!
She eyed each one of the waiting clients and dared one to speak up. Sucking her teeth, she turned on the heels of her Via Spigas, then went into her office. She wasn’t upset over the comment, she was just tired of seeing black men in trouble. She hated the senseless gang violence, black men killing each other over a red or blue cloth, and she saw no end to it. Entering her office, she kicked the door shut behind her, flicked the lights on, then headed toward her desk. Kicking her heels off after placing her laptop on her desk, she resumed her conversation.
“Where were we?” Desiree said as she placed her stocking-clad feet up on her desk. She wiggled her pedicured toes while relaxing back into the leather contoured chair.
“What was that all about?” her roommate, Jelena, asked.
“Some dude making a remark about my butt!”
“So,” Jelena teased, “what do you expect? You prancing around with that tight booty.”
“Shut it up,” Desiree said, crossing her ankles. “Anyway, like I was saying… I’m tired of seeing my people going through this system.”
“I take it that the case didn’t go well today.”
“No, it didn’t. They gave Jamal a life sentence.” Desiree’s voice was filled with pain.
“He did commit a crime,” Jelena pointed out. “He’s the one that did the drive-by in Durham, right?”
“And then shot the police station up in Raleigh?”
“Well… he can’t be allowed to walk free, can he?”
“I’m not saying he should,” Desiree responded. “It’s… I just wish there was another way to curb this big problem.”
“There is a way, Desiree.”
“It’s called common sense. Ain’t nobody forcing us black people to kill each other. Just because I’m a college grad doesn’t mean I don’t see the problem. And plus we both know that the system is—” A knock at Desiree’s door forced her to cut Jelena off.
“Go ahead and take care of your business because my minutes on this phone is already over my budget limit so I’ll holla at ya.”
“Okay, bye, girl,” Desiree said, removing her feet from her desk as she rolled back from it. Pushing the END button, then flipping her Audiovox closed, she laid it on the desk, then went to answer the door.
“May I help you?” she asked in her professional voice as she looked up to the man standing before her looking like Michael Vick, sporting a nappy mini afro and chewing on a toothpick. He wore a cream-colored G-Unit leather jacket with matching jeans and a pair of white Air Force 1s. He looked into her hazel eyes, smiled, then looked down at her sexy feet. Desiree rolled her eyes as she realized she had forgotten to slip on her heels.
“Mr. Shaw told me to give you my info and stuff,” he said, grinning around the toothpick.
“Come in,” she said, nodding at the chair in front of her desk.
As she walked around her desk she heard him mumble something under his breath.
“Excuse me?” she asked, sliding her feet back into her Via Spigas.
He continued to grin as he took a seat. “Anybody ever tell you that you favor Christina Milian?”
She ignored his comment as well as his smile. “I think we have more important matters to tend to other than my looks, Mr.…?”
“Polo… I mean Tyrone,” he said, removing the frayed toothpick from his mouth.
“What’s your full name?” she asked, with her slender fingers poised over the wireless keyboard to her computer.
“Tyrone Leon Bell, also known as Polo.”
“Need a trash can for that?” she asked without looking at him. She was referring to his toothpick as she typed his name in.
“Nah, I’m good,” he replied, checking out her ring finger to see if shorty was married. Nope. Damn, she’s fine as fuck.
Desiree was strictly professional as she took all his info. He was hiring Mr. Shaw in the hopes that he could keep him out of prison for a gun charge.
“Do you have any pending charges?” she asked, removing her eyes from the flat computer screen.
“Nah. But I’m on probation.”
Once she had typed in the info she asked him about his current charge.
“Po-po found a gun on me.”
“I take it that you don’t have a permit?”
“Hell naw, shawty…” He started to laugh but paused at the stern look on her still-sexy face. “I mean… um…”
“It’s Ms. Eason,” she said sternly. “Not shawty.”
“My bad,” he said, holding his hands up. Her take-no-shit mind-set was off the hook. I wonder if she’s the same in the bedroom? I can only dream because she might not fuck wit such a thug nigga as myself.
“And your reason for having a gun?”
“I live in Durham,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Shit, it’s like a fuckin’ war zone…” he continued.
“Is that what you expect the judge to hear?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Yo… that’s how it is, sh—I mean, Ms. Eason.”
“So,” she said, crossing her arms. “If the judge gives you some time, and say that’s how it is… then what?”
Polo looked briefly into her eyes, then off over her shoulder at the wall behind her. Glancing at one of the photos on the wall, he gained the knowledge that she had finished college at Bowie State University.
Clearing her throat to regain his attention, she repeated her question. Polo shrugged his shoulders, then tried to look into her eyes. He could only hold his gaze for a few seconds before he again broke the eye contact. Damn, shawty placing me outta my damn element. She must not know who I is. Dat nigga Polo dat fuck slow and stack dough. He started grinning at his silly thoughts.
“Is something funny, Mr. Bell?”
Polo gathered himself as he erased his grin. “Nah… I was just thinking about something, that’s all.” I’d eat dat ass fo’ breakfast… word up! he continued in his thoughts.
“How old would you happen to be, Mr. Bell?” she asked, uncrossing her arms to type in the info.
“I’ll be twenty-one next week,” he replied.
The rest of their conversation went on as it had started. Strictly professionally. When it came to the point of the payment, Polo pulled out his fist-size roll of colored bills. Fifteen hundred dollars were counted out, then placed on her immaculate desk.
“Do you think the case could be put off a few months?” he asked.
“You can talk to Mr. Shaw about that next week. But by looking at his caseload… the answer will nine times out of ten be yes.”
“Good,” he said, placing his frayed toothpick back into his mouth. Feeling cocky, he asked her if she had a man. That was a wrong move.
“Be sure to call Mr. Shaw next week,” she said, ignoring his question about her personal life. She showed him the door with a forced fake smile. Polo kept his smooth composure as he came to his feet. As she turned to open the door for him, he stole another glance at her heart-shaped ass.
Whoever hitting dat is a lucky-ass nigga! he thought to himself as he exited her office.
Once Polo made it outside in the chilly November weather he zipped up his G-Unit leather jacket, then pimped down the crowded sidewalk. He started grinning as he neared his glossy candy-colored Duke-blue Dodge Charger perched on a set of twenty-two-inch deep-dish DUB Shoreline rims. Sitting on the hood was his buck-wild cousin Tink, smoking a Newport.
“Get the fuck off my hood!” Polo said, pulling out his keys.
“Fuck you!” Tink replied, sliding from the glossy hood. Polo paused to check for any dents as Tink thumped his burning Newport toward the gutter. None were found.
“Whut dey say?” Tink said, sliding his long twisted dreads from his face. “You goin’ back to prison or not?” He laughed.
Polo waved Tink off as he keyed the remote to raise the Lambo doors in the air. Once inside, Tink held up his numb hands near the vent, waiting for the heat to blast. Conversation inside the Dodge Charger was pointless. Reason being, the eight square KICKER subwoofers shook Polo’s whip with Three 6 Mafia’s “Stay Fly.” As Polo checked over his shoulder before pulling out, Tink reached into his waistband and pulled out a black .380 that he laid in his lap. With nothing on his mind he rapped along with the music.
“I gotta stay fly, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, till I die!” The system was hitting so hard that he couldn’t even hear his own voice. Polo sped through the busy traffic as he unsuccessfully tried to push Desiree from his mind. It was something special about shawty. To Polo, she was the type of chick… wait, she was the type of woman to grace the cover of Essence. Deep in his mind he knew that she was not feeling him and his thug persona.
Leaving downtown Raleigh he wheeled his Dodge Charger toward Tink’s baby mama’s crib in Washington Terrace Projects. Tink’s ears were still ringing as he stepped out of Polo’s Dodge Charger. His baggy black Vokal jeans and white hoodie were his thuggish attire for the day. His .380 was now in his front pocket for easy access in case any drama popped off. He waited for Polo on the dirty sidewalk before heading in to check on his BM (baby mama).
“Ain’t that Lil’ Rick over there shooting craps?” Polo asked, walking up to Tink. Tink glanced at the group of hustlers in the tight game of craps. Tink nodded his head, as he easily recognized Lil’ Rick’s lanky six-two frame clad in baggy black jeans with a matching black hoodie.
“Yeah, dat’s him, whut up?” Tink asked.
“Ain’t nothin’. I just need to holla a’im later.”
Tink shrugged his shoulders, then walked toward his BM’s crib while holding up his sagging jeans. Polo followed, glancing back once at his tough-looking Dodge Charger.
Tink entered Trina’s cozy crib to find her busy in the kitchen.
“Close the door!” she yelled over her shoulder while flipping over some pork chops. “My heat going out!” she added.
Trina wasn’t your average project chick, not that she was hood. Trina was the same age as Tink, eighteen. Sadly, her parents had kicked her out when she became pregnant. She wasn’t put on the streets, but her parents pulled a few strings to get her name on the waiting list and quickly into her own apartment. Their reason was firm and simple. If she was grown enough to have sex and get pregnant, then she was grown enough to live on her own. Luckily, Tink had been there for her and his baby boy since day one. His only flaw in her eyes was that he sold drugs. Trina stood at five-four and didn’t favor anyone famous. She was just cute and a bit sassy when the mood would strike her. Tink came up from behind her, cupping her round butt and softly nuzzling the side of her neck.
She giggled. “Stop, Tink, ’fore I burn myself with this hot grease.”
“Whut else you got cookin’, ma?” he asked, stepping back so she could move freely at the stove.
“Hmm… macaroni and cheese, butter rolls and some potato pie… and yes, some cherry Kool-Aid that our son made.” As soon as she spoke about their two-year-old son he came running into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Tink’s legs. As the three had a family moment in the kitchen, Polo was slumped on the beige sofa rubbing his temples. Trina yelled from the kitchen, asking if he was staying to eat. He answered yes as he chewed unconsciously on his toothpick out of habit. Polo was tired of being “dat nigga.” He knew his luck wouldn’t last long in the drug game. His hustle was strictly weed and he was content with it. He had a fly whip on twenty-twos with Lamborghini-style doors but he was far from, as they say, baller status. He had been harshly reminded at a car show in Greensboro when the author/entrepreneur Jaeyel Imes pulled up in an artic silver Porche Carrera GT. Polo was ready for a change. This gun charge was bullshit!
“I’ma get a job,” Polo said to Tink as he entered the living room with his son, Cameron, on his back.
“A job!” Tink lowered his son to the floor, then sat next to his cousin. “Oh.” He smiled, rubbing his hands together. “You gotta lick set up? Who you got in mind?”
Polo frowned, sucking his teeth. “I’m dead-ass, nigga! I’ma get a real job… legal.”
“Why the change of heart?” Tink asked. He then told Cameron to go put his shoes on. Cameron skipped away while singing 50 Cent’s “Window Shopper.”
“Reason one.” Polo held up his index finger. “Ain’t tryna go back to prison for a muhfuckin’ thang. I think I can beat this case. And if I do, I’m done with this street shit.”
Tink could tell by the tone of his cousin’s voice that he was dead-ass. “Where you gonna get a good job at?”
Polo shrugged his shoulders. “Shit, I’ll work at Burger King before I risk my freedom again. I got a few grand in the stash and I’ma throw in the towel before I slip up.”
Tink started grinning. “Let me find out you think dem alphabet boys got you under surveillance,” he joked.
“Nah, I don’t rate that. That’s for that lame-ass nigga Kaseem and his team of yes-men,” Polo stated sourly.
Tink was in a different situation from Polo. Tink had a family to feed while Polo’s main concern was paying off his new whip. Tink sold weed for Polo on the side and also did his thing selling that hard. Nothing major, though, he only sold pieces on the block. If Polo stopped the weed, then Tink knew he would be in a bind. Maybe he could hook up with that jackmaster Lil’ Rick and stick up some niggas that’s already on.
“So what’s up?” Polo asked, breaking Tink’s train of thought. Tink shrugged his shoulders just as his son came skipping up the hall.
“Food’s ready, y’all!” Trina yelled from the kitchen.
Polo removed his G-Unit leather jacket, then followed Tink toward the kitchen, but both were turned around when Trina ordered them both to go wash their hands. It was clear that Trina was running thangs and Tink could care less because it was all love.
Later, around 3:45 p.m., Polo was leaving Trina’s crib with Cameron to take him to spend the night with Trina’s parents in Selma.
“Turn it up, Uncle Polo, please!” Cameron squealed as Polo shook his head, smiling. He loved Cameron like crazy.
“Aiight, but not too loud this time.” Polo adjusted the volume with the controls, then filled the Dodge Charger with Common’s “Testify.”
At the same time, Desiree was in her office working on her laptop while talking to Jelena. Jelena’s high-pitched voice filled her office as it flowed from the landline speakerphone.
“I just can’t date no man with no felonies, girl, and I’m being honest with you,” Desiree said, even though she was slightly attracted to Tyrone aka Polo. But that was something she wouldn’t even confess to her best friend. Plus she was committed to Lamar and her stance was firm, she would not date a man who ran the streets.
Jelena laughed. “Well, you just as well put that label over seventy-five percent of the brothers in the US.”
“I think that percentage would be higher and it don’t matter.”
“Why?” Jelena wanted to know.
“Hellooo, I gots me a man. A legal man at that,” Desiree bragged.
“Yeah, whateva. Look, what’s that author’s website you wanted me to check out?”
“www.VictorLMartin.com,” Desiree rattled off in excitement.
“Okay, I got it. Well, let me go make my rounds, I’ll see ya tonight.”
“See you the same,” Desiree said before pushing the END button on the speakerphone. Just as she glanced out the side window she saw an eye-catching metallic black BMW 760Li with black rims backing into a slot beside her pearl-white Nissan Maxima. A smile quickly formed on her beautiful face as a chill ran up and down her spine. She was so wide open over her older man that she was close to speaking on that L word. Love! She had met the thirty-seven-year-old Blair Underwood look-alike at Club Black Tie four months ago. His name was Lamar Seagal and to Desiree he was the perfect man for her. Shutting her laptop off she became excited about what she was about to do. She was in the office building alone with all the lawyers out attending a conference. Really it was something that Jelena had placed into her head… office sex!
Her panties were slightly damp when Lamar entered her office with two dozen red roses. She was speechless as he walked toward her in a pair of brown leather pants by Gucci. His pullover was thick and also by Gucci, just like his loafers. When she started to thank him, he held his index finger to his lips, signaling for silence. After placing the roses on her desk, he moved his six-three frame behind her. Her hazel eyes glazed over as he moved his large hands down and over her soft breasts. He massaged them slowly through her clothes. She couldn’t wait for him to strip her of her clothing. When his hands pulled away she started to complain but again he silenced her. Catching her off guard he tied a black silk scarf over her eyes. This was something new to her and it turned her on. He then stood her up on shaky legs. Slowly he undressed her. First he removed her heels, her pants, her stockings, her jacket, her blouse, and then her bra. He then helped her slip her beautiful feet back into her heels. He stepped back to admire her precious body. Topless and standing in a pair of heels. He smiled at the wet spot that stained her peach panties. Desiree stood blinded near her desk as Lamar removed his clothes. He stripped buck naked down to his silk socks. Desiree moaned out his name when she felt his tongue circling her erect nipple while he slid a hand under her panties. She was slick and hot.
“Lamar!” she shivered as she parted her legs. “Oooooooohhh, Lamar.” She gripped his shoulders as he slid his beefy middle finger into her moist pussy with her left titty filling his mouth. He was really working her pussy with his finger. She gave him all the access she could give by hiking her leg up his naked waist. The smell of her enticed pussy suddenly filled her office, mixed with the smell of the two dozen roses.
When he slid her panties down her legs she tried to remove the blindfold but Lamar pushed her hands away. Instead, he guided her small hands to his engorged dick. She wrapped her hands around it, then moved her hands back and forth. When he laid his hands on her shoulders, she took the hint and went to her knees, licking him on the trip down.
“Oooooooooohhhh, Desi!” he moaned as she slowly licked around the head of his dick. He looked down to see his pre-cum seeping into her mouth. She ran her tongue around his head while gripping his shaft with one hand and palming his ass with the other. Back and forth she began to slowly suck his dick as he palmed the back of her head.
“Suck it, Desi,” he panted as she continued to slurp at his dick. “You do it so good, Desi.” His words of encouragement spurred her on as her nails dug into the flesh of his ass. It also felt as if her pussy were dripping in the squatting position she was in. Lamar made her head spin when he somehow managed to scoop her up and turn her body upside down. She squealed with excitement as Lamar started tonguing her pussy and ass. He was able to hold her light body with ease as she squirmed and twitched. When the two carefully went to the carpet, Desiree quickly took over and mounted him. Squatting in her heels, she lowered herself on his dick, moaning with pleasure. With her hands planted on his eight-pack stomach she rode him with pure passion. She couldn’t recall removing the blindfold but it was now off. Up and down she bounced on his dick, which filled her tight pussy properly. Spasms racked her body as he urged her on by talking nasty to her. She even gave in and slowly spun around to ride him with her back toward him. She later found her legs high up on his sweaty shoulders with his dick plunging in and out causing his balls to slap rhythmically against her ass. Sweat, lust and sex covered them both. His rhythm was set on cruise control, long-dicking her with his piston-like strokes. Desiree arched her back, digging her nails in his back, then felt her pussy explode around his endlessly plunging dick.
“Lamar, yessss!” she yelled. She shuddered, rolling her hips to his dick as her body gave in. Her thighs were flattening her breasts and Lamar was pumping her steadily. When she felt him release inside her pussy it triggered another orgasm of her own. He slowly lowered his body on top of her after sliding her legs from his shoulders. He kissed her lightly on her sweaty forehead, then moved to her mouth for an open wet kiss.
“I… needed that, Lamar,” she said. “I really needed that.”
He merely smiled while caressing her naked body with his hands. “You coming to see me tonight?” He lowered his head to lick her right, then left, erect nipple. Desiree nodded yes while enticingly tightening her pussy around his semi-erect dick, which was still inside her. It made him twitch. She kept doing it until he became hard again. Without pulling out he flipped her over and took her doggy-style, ass up, face down, while gripping her small waist. His favorite position.
* * *
“Tink, Tink, Tink!” Trina panted while riding Tink. “I’ma cumming, baby!” Up and down, side to side, she moved her body over Tink’s.
Tink was under her with his hands palming her small 34Cs as she reached her climax. Since they were struggling as it was to make ends meet, they were having safe sex. When she climaxed, she slid up off his hard dick, then moved up to his face for him to lick her out. Tink was more than happy to please his girl. Seeing that he was still hard, she spun around, rolled the rubber off, then pleased him via oral sex until he erupted inside her mouth. Later, after she took a quick shower, she came back into their bedroom to find Tink holding up his white hoodie, which Cameron had spilled some Kool-Aid on.
“I told you to put that in some cold water so that stain won’t be so hard to remove,” she said, putting on some deodorant.
Tink laid it on the bed, then stepped to the closet. Inside he saw the two new Sean John solid-color hoodies that Trina had bought at the Crabtree Valley Mall. One was blue and one was Syracuse orange. He knew he was gonna hit the block tonight so he went for the blue hoodie. He figured it was the closest he could get to black.
“You’re not planning on hitting the block tonight, are you?” Trina asked as she snapped on her bra. As Tink removed the blue hoodie from the closet she took his white one and placed it in the bathroom sink, then plugged the sink to fill it with cold water. “You hear me talking to you, Tink?”
“Yeah, I heard ya,” he replied, pulling the tag from the brand-new hoodie.
“You know how I feel about you doing that, Tink. I really think you should follow Polo’s move and—”
“I’m not a follower!” he stated, cutting her off.
“Tink!” Trina explained. “You know I don’t mean it like that, baby. But Polo made some good points and you know it.”
Tink turned his back on Trina as he pulled the hoodie over his head. Trina sat on the edge of the bed and watched him. “I don’t want you out there in those streets no more, Tink,” she said softly.
“WHUT THE FUCK!” He spun around. “You want a nigga workin’ at a fast-food joint flippin’ burgers or sumthin’? Dat shit is lame as fuck!”
“No it ain’t!” Trina stated, coming to her feet. “What’s lame to me is coming to visit the man I love in prison for being hardheaded!”
“Ain’t goin’ to no prison,” he said, throwing up his arms.
“Oh, it’s legal to slang now?” she said sarcastically with a light roll of her neck. Tink blew hard through his nose while rubbing his face. When he dropped his hands he looked at Trina and saw her eyes were close to tears. He motioned her toward him but she shook her head from side to side.
“No… I’m pissed at you right now,” she snapped.
Tink gave in and walked the few steps toward her. “You really love me?”
She rolled her eyes. “No, I just clean up after your funky behind like every day, plus I make sure the sex is on point. I take care of our son and I’ve been faithful to you since day one… do I need to add more? I can’t believe you asked such a stupid-ass question!” She tried to hold it back, but a small grin formed on her face. Tink did the same.
“Look, baby, I’m sorry I bassed on you.” He placed his hands on her waist. “You forgive a nigga?”
She shrugged her shoulders, then folded her arms under her breasts.
“I’ma sell these last five grams, then I’m done.”
“Don’t be telling me no lie, Tink.”
“Yeah. I figure I can get a job since I don’t have any felonies… and you better not leave me for no baller,” he joked while rubbing her panty-covered ass. She giggled and punched him playfully in his chest.
“What time will you be in?” she asked, wrapping her arms around his neck.
“As soon as I’m done.”
“And don’t re-up neither.”
“Dat’s a promise. Afta tonight I’m doin’ it strictly legal.”
“I’ll wait up for you. I just got A Hustler’s Wife by Nikki Turner so that’ll keep me up.” She glanced over his shoulder at the digital clock by the dresser. She knew it would be hours before nightfall and Tink wouldn’t leave until then. Being in such a happy mood, she lowered his ear to her lips and whispered provocatively. Since she was already in her panties and bra she stripped naked with ease. Trina was gonna have raw sex with the nigga she loved but he had to pull out before he came… she hoped he could.
When nightfall fell drearily over Raleigh, North Carolina, Lil’ Rick was pulling his solid-colored black hoodie over his head. He watched from the cut as his mark led two chicks toward a room at the Red Roof Inn. The two chicks were both white girls, college students, Lil’ Rick figured, from their NCSU sweatshirts. He had watched the three from the second they pulled up in a black BMW 545i with black rims. Lil’ Rick shivered when a cool gust of wind blew in his face. He waited a good twenty minutes, then removed a black .38 from his pocket and moved toward the room.
Datwon, the driver of the BMW, was breathing heavily as one of the white girls vigorously sucked his dick. Behind her was her friend, pumping away wildly with a black studded seven-and-a-half-inch strap-on dildo. The three had been using meth since they entered the room. The last time Datwon had tricked with meth he had stayed awake for four days straight! Even as the redheaded girl sucked him off, he had a glass pipe near the bed ready to smoke more meth. Around his nose were traces of meth that he had snorted off the two girls’ naked bodies. The girl sucking him licked his shaft up and down while massaging his balls while her friend continued to fuck her from the back. He closed his eyes when he felt himself close to cumming but his concentration was broken when someone started banging on the door. His eyes shot open as the two freaks froze. His heart hammered in his chest: if it was the D’s, then he was fucked. Not only from the meth in the room, but in the trunk of his BMW were two and a half keys of raw meth. Pushing the girl from his dick he rolled butt naked out of the bed. His hyperactive mood caused him to rush boldly toward the door.
“W-who is it?!”
“Me, nigga!” Lil’ Rick said. “Hurry up, po-po was checkin’ out your whip and—” He was cut off as Datwon unlocked the door and yanked him in. Lil’ Rick was his nigga so it was all good. But before he could ask Lil’ Rick about the police he was surprised with Lil’ Rick’s .38 pointed at his head. Datwon looked at Lil’ Rick, then laughed. The meth running through his blood made him feel unconquerable. Lil’ Rick smiled as he peeped the keys to the BMW over near the bed.
“Here’s the joke, nigga.” Lil’ Rick lowered the .38 to Datwon’s stomach just as Datwon tried to rush him. The two claps from the .38 were muffled because the barrel was pressed into Datwon’s belly. As Datwon crumpled to the floor, Lil’ Rick moved quickly toward the car keys with the .38 pointed at the two white girls, who hadn’t made a sound. Lil’ Rick wasn’t planning on being caught for murdering Datwon, but if he were, it would be a black-on-black crime and drug-related. Hell, the max he would get… under seven years with a good lawyer. But if he killed the two white girls… he’d never see the streets again. Picking up the keys he also found the two girls’ college IDs. He quickly asked who had rented the room. They both pointed to Datwon.
“I suggest y’all bounce and forget about all this ’cause I’m sure y’all mommy and daddy won’t be pleased to know y’all getting high and trickin’, and if you do talk to the police…” He held up their IDs as he backed toward the door. Once he made it outside he paused, then walked quickly toward the BMW. A few seconds later he pulled off with the lights off and got missing.
An odd feeling came over Trina as Tink headed outside. The time was what made her feel funny about tonight. Six-forty-six p.m. She stood looking out the window as he walked away. His blue hoodie looked black. She watched him until he walked from her view. “Be careful, baby,” she said softly to ease her mind and heart. Leaving the window she went to watch some TV to bring some sounds into the silent apartment. A smile formed on her face at the clumsiness of Tink’s actions during their round of raw sex. By “mistake” he claimed he was unable to pull out… the three different times he had cum inside her.
“So did you do the nasty with Lamar?” Jelena asked Desiree.
Desiree glared over her shoulder by looking in the mirror above her dresser. “Like I’ma tell you my business,” Desiree replied.
“I told you about the ménage that I did with Samuel and Ron, didn’t I?” Jelena said, folding her arms as she sat on the edge of Desiree’s bed.
“Yeah, you did, Ms. Freak of the Week. But you also volunteered that bit of sexual info,” Desiree said.
Jelena smacked her balm-covered lips as Desiree stepped back from the mirror to check out her outfit. Jelena had to give her girl some points on how she was rocking a pair of Seven jeans and a cashmere sweater. On her feet were a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti–designed ankle-high stiletto boots. Her silky hair was hooked up in a French roll that showed off her sexy neck.
“Vera Wang or Euphoria?” Desiree asked, seeking Jelena’s choice of which scent she should wear.
“Vera Wang,” Jelena said.
“Euphoria it is,” Desiree replied and Jelena rolled her green eyes.
“You gonna spend the night with Lamar?”
“I might,” Desiree replied as she sprayed the scent on. “Why, what’s up?”
“Just asking,” Jelena replied as she shrugged her shoulders. “Being nosy. You know me.”
Desiree was about to put on her earrings when her $5,700 Vertu Ascent pink cell phone started to chime. It was the first gift that Lamar had given her… before they even had sex. When Jelena saw how Desiree started to blush and giggle, she quietly got up and left Desiree’s bedroom to give her some privacy with her call.
“How is the lady of my life doing?” Lamar’s voice melted Desiree in her boots.
“Fine,” she replied, looking at herself in the mirror. She was proud of what she saw. Mainly she was concerned about how Lamar viewed her. At times she was a little self-conscious about her small frame. She was not stacked like Jelena, who could easily give the video goddess Buffie the Body a run in the “make a nigga drool” department. In time, she had learned to accept her small frame and love herself.
“Are we still set for tonight?” Lamar asked her.
“I wouldn’t miss it for nothing, Lamar.”
“That’s what I need to hear. By the way, what time do you have?”
Desiree turned up her wrist to glance at her gold DKNY watch. “Six minutes to seven.”
“And I’ll see you at—”
“Eight sharp,” she said, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, and Lamar…”
“How about I spend the night?” she asked in a sexy tone.
“That sounds deeply enticing. But I doubt you’ll get any rest.”
“I’d be let down if I did,” she purred.
“So it’s like that?”
“Any way you want it, Lamar,” she confessed. “You know how I feel about you, baby.”
“I would be a fool if I didn’t.”
Desiree knew in her heart that Lamar was the perfect man for her and it showed all over her beautiful face. They talked a few more minutes before hanging up.
Leaving her bedroom, she headed to see what Jelena was up to. As always, she was in her bedroom sitting in front of her Dell computer surfing the Web. In the background Jelena had Keyshia Cole’s “I Should Have Cheated” pumping from her CD player.
“Damn!” Jelena exclaimed. “He’s engaged.”
“Who?” Desiree asked, standing over her shoulder.
“Victor, he’s engaged to some lucky girl… hell, I can’t pronounce her name.”
“It’s QuoVadis,” Desiree said. “Click Photos and you’ll see a picture of them together.”
The two started joking back and forth about Jelena’s fantasy to date a famous black author as the night moved on. Desiree made sure to stay up on the time because she would not be late for her visit with Lamar.
Lamar sat in his huge den in front of the roaring fireplace sipping a glass of Johnnie Walker Red Label on the rocks. After satisfying his thirst he placed the empty glass on a coaster, then picked up a remote. With a touch of a button a retractable motorized screen unrolled behind him just as the Panasonic HD home theater projector filled the screen with the sex act that he had filmed with Desiree. He had hidden a camera to record everything when he tied the blindfold over her eyes. Slowly he spun his camel contoured chair around to face the screen. He smiled at his devious act. Of course he had asked to film their sex act once before but she was strictly against it. Well, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. He watched with pride as Desiree took his dick into her mouth. Tonight he was ready to film her once again once they got behind closed doors. As he watched the screen, he couldn’t help but wonder how sex would be with Jelena. At times he had wished that it had been Jelena and her juicy body that he had met at the club instead of Desiree… hell, he couldn’t help it that he liked his women thick. But somehow Desiree had grown on him. He grabbed his throbbing erection through his slacks as he watched Desiree’s sweet lips glide back and forth over his spit-shined dick. He couldn’t wait for eight p.m., which was now forty minutes away. Just as the scene showed Desiree flicking her wet tongue over his balls, his Motorola headset started to chime. Without removing his eyes from the screen he reached over to pick up the headset and place it on his head. Sliding the mic toward his lips, he answered the call.
“We have a big problem,” the male voice calmly replied.
“What kind of problem?”
Lamar listenened closely as his right-hand man told him what the problem was. His mood went from aroused to pissed.
“WHO THE FUCK TESTIN’ MY GANGSTA!” Lamar roared as he shot to his feet with his hand in a tight fist.
“Lil’ Rick, Lil’ Rick.” Lamar repeated the name, hoping to trigger when and where he had heard it.
“Datwon had him pushing for him over near Shaw.”
“How is Datwon?” Lamar asked as he tried to level his temper off and think clearly.
“He’ll make it. The two tricks he was with called me first instead of the police. Like I said, I then called Dr. Evans and he patched Datwon up as best as he could. Datwon’s girl is with him at Evans’s private office.”
“I want this Lil’ Rick nigga dead before the sun comes up!” Lamar ordered.
“I already put the wheels in motion.”
“Good… look, meet me at Evans’s office.”
“Yes. I’m on my way now. I can’t let niggas take me nor no one on my team for being soft!” Lamar stated. With his temper on the edge he yanked the headset off, then flicked the sex scene off. Five minutes later he was pulling out of his driveway in his black BMW 760Li.
“Remember, if you see Lil’ Rick, call me as soon as possible and don’t say shit to ’im,” said Lamar’s right-hand man, Mance. Mance sat behind the wheel of his quiet-running black BMW M5 with black twenty-two-inch Zenetti Blade rims. Sitting next to him was a cute but deadly-looking Teairra Mari look-alike keeping an eye out for the D’s. The street hustler nodded his head at Mance, then gave him some dap. And just to make it stick in the hustler’s mind, Mance nodded at the girl next to him, who reached into the open glove compartment to pull out four grams of coke. She reached over Mance and dropped the work in the hustler’s hand.
“You find Lil’ Rick for me and that’s yours, plus a grand when I see you again.”
“No doubt, dawg,” the hustler replied. He knew he could sell the work and get four hundred and if he came across Lil’ Rick… shit, he would have enough to cop some weight. As Mance sped off, the hustler pulled the fur-lined hood of his Rocawear houndstooth jacket over his dreads and went walking up the block. He placed the four grams in his front left jacket pocket, then reached into the right to feel the rubber grip of his nine-millimeter.
“Please, Tink,” the crackhead by the name of Tanisha begged. “Why we cain’t work out the deal like we always do? You know I’ma swallow.”
“Cain’t do it dis round, Nisha. Cain’t take no shorts tonight,” Tink said, squinting from the burning kerosene heater in the far corner. He knew Trina would be pissed when she smelled kerosene in his gear. Only two grams to sell and he could go the fuck home.
“Just this last time, Tink. I swear ’fore God I’ma come correct next time.” She had the nerve to drop to her knees with her hands clasped together.
“Ain’t no next time,” Tink replied. “And get the fuck up.”
“Please,” she pleaded, remaining on her knees.
“Hell no, Nisha!” Tink said, standing up to peek out of her front window. “I just gave you some shake a few minutes ago. Whatcha do? Eat tha shit like candy or something?” he said, about to laugh.
“Ha, ha, very funny!” Tanisha replied, sticking up her slender middle finger behind his back. She came to her feet, mumbling under her funky breath. Tink turned from the window to see Tanisha flopping down onto her flower-printed sofa. She rolled her eyes at Tink as he smiled at her.
“What time your friend across the skreet get off?”
Tanisha pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders.
“You need to stop trippin’,” Tink stated as he pulled out a Snickers candy bar from his huge front right pocket. Catching the pissed-off Tanisha off guard, he tossed her a nice-sized ten piece of hard. “Think fast!”
He may have thought he had caught her off guard but was proven wrong as she caught the crack in midair. Her face was instantly changed to “gonna get high soon” as she examined the crack.
“Thanks, Tink!” She rose to her feet. “You want me to suck your dick now or can I hit this first?” The way she asked with no touch of shame you would have figured it was an everyday thang for her… and sadly… it was.
“Nah, I’m good.” He waved her off. “But don’t ask fo’ shit else!” Again she gave him the finger, then turned to head for her bedroom. She knew that he didn’t like for her to get high where he could smell it.
“I got dem thangs!” Bizzy boasted as he hit the block. He walked up on the group of hustlers drinking Colt 45s, sitting on the hood of the dark green ’84 Chevy Caprice Classic. Bizzy gave up some dap to everyone as he kept an eye out for Lil’ Rick. Bizzy sold two grams for a hundred dollars, then asked how the block was tonight. It was colder than a muhfucker, but the money was coming nonstop. That also meant the jack boys were roaming, so Bizzy made sure to keep his hands in his pockets. Not only to keep them warm, but to keep that hammer in his grip.
When it neared ten minutes to eight, Bizzy felt the urge to seek some warmth and maybe some head. Tanisha popped into his mind. For a phat twenty piece he could get some pussy.
“Yo, I’ll holla at y’all niggas later.” And with his exit, he headed down the block in his tan Timbs toward Tanisha’s crib. Minutes later he was rounding the corner and about to cross the street to Tanisha’s crib when he saw a figure coming down her steps. Bizzy froze, then backed up. It was Lil’ Rick. Bizzy had mistaken Tink’s blue hoodie for black and since Tink shared Lil’ Rick’s frame… Bizzy was fooled. Bizzy knew that Lil’ Rick was known to pay Tanisha a creep visit every now and then. Bizzy reached fast as he pulled out his cell phone to call Mance.
“Yeah?” Mance answered on the third ring.
“I see your man.”
“Who? Lil’ Rick!”
“Yeah. He walkin’ up the street right now.”
“He seen you?”
“Can you follow him without being seen?”
“Hold up, dawg. That ain’t part of the deal.”
“It is if I add another grand.”
“Ain’t no time for games, Bizzy. Will you do this or not?” Bizzy shifted his stance as he watched an easy two grand walking in the opposite direction. As the chilly wind bit into his exposed hand he made up his mind and told Mance he would do it.
“Shit!” Mance cursed as he walked up to Lamar aka Kaseem.
Kaseem stood up with his face still filled with anger. Yes, he lived a double life, a life of the street that Desiree didn’t know about. “What’s up?”
“That was Bizzy; he’s trailing Lil’ Rick over by Shaw.”
“Well what the fuck we still sitting in this office for? I meant what I said so let’s do this.”
“I know, I know,” Mance said. “But… I don’t have my piece. All I got is the pump in my trunk.”
Kaseem shrugged his shoulders. “Get it and let’s go.”
The two had already discussed that Lil’ Rick would be made an example of. Kaseem could take the last of the meth that Datwon had been jacked for. Mance gave his girl a nervous glance as he popped the trunk to his BMW M5.
“Just take the car and go to Kaseem’s crib,” Mance whispered. She kissed him on the lips, then followed his request.
Kaseem pulled off seconds later in his black BMW 760Li, with Mance beside him with a twelve-gauge pump between his legs.
A puzzled look appeared on Desiree’s face as she pulled up to Lamar’s driveway. By now she was accustomed to his greeting her at either the door or his driveway, but tonight she was met with silence. She pulled up to his closed two-car garage, then switched her ride off. Figuring that he would come bounding from his crib, she took the spare second to primp in the vanity mirror. As two minutes went by and there was no sign of Lamar she started smiling. He was up to one of his games, she thought. Zipping up her leather coat she grabbed her purse and made her exit.
Lamar slowed his BMW 760Li at the red light when his car phone started to chime. With a simple push of a button mounted on the steering wheel he switched on the hands-free phone.
“Um… Lamar.” Desiree’s soft voice filled the BMW. “I know I’m not standing on your front step and you’re not home? Please explain? It’s eight-oh-five, Lamar.” Lamar slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. With the bullshit now at hand he had allowed Desiree to slip his mind. Thinking quickly, he told her the truth with a bit of lies. He told her a friend had been in an accident, car accident to be exact. He promised he would be home by nine. He then gave her the code to enter his crib. He told her to make herself at home and he promised to make it up to her.
“Damn!” he muttered when she hung up. “Forgot all about that bitch.” When the light turned green he glanced over at Mance, who was back on the celly with Bizzy.
Desiree felt a bit awkward as she entered Lamar’s crib. It was odd to be in his crib with him not there. She removed her leather jacket when she entered the den since the fireplace was roaring. She looked around and noticed that his place was cleaner than hers. Dropping her purse beside the loveseat she flopped down, then wondered if Lamar was up to something kinky. She loved how he was full of surprises. Tonight she wanted to have “the talk” with him. Heck, she figured he too was ready to take their relationship to the next level, and in her mind she couldn’t find one reason not to. Relaxing back into the comfort of the soft leather loveseat she closed her eyes. She started grinning. A kinky thought of waiting for Lamar in the nude crossed her mind. Keeping it real with herself, she allowed her mind to drift to Tyrone. Him and his silly name, Polo. As quickly as he popped into her mind, he was pushed out as she replaced him with Lamar. Minutes later she became bored and thirsty. To take care of the latter she got up and headed into his sunken kitchen. In her search of his refrigerator she found a carton of pineapple juice. When she was about to refill her glass again she heard someone coming through the front door. Walking quietly back into the den, she was surprised to find Mance’s girl, Nikki. Nikki had received a call from Mance just a few minutes ago so she went along with the lie about one of Lamar’s friends having a car accident. Nikki and Desiree got along fine since the two had been out on double dates a few times with Mance and Lamar. Nikki at times felt sorry for Desiree about her not knowing about Lamar’s secret life. It just goes to show, don’t believe everything you see.
“Turn some music on or something on up in here, girl,” Nikki said. “And I know Lamar got something to drink.”
“You handle the entertainment and I’ll get us something to sip on,” Desiree said. She figured she could hook something up with the Rémy Red Strawberry Kiwi Infusion that she had seen in the refrigerator. When she later took the two mixed drinks back into the den she found Nikki with the remote in her hand. They both sipped lightly at their drinks as the retractable motorized screen unrolled. Nikki loved to watch movies and she knew Lamar kept something worth watching in his movie section. When she pressed the PLAY button the screen filled with a graphic scene of Desiree riding Lamar. Desiree’s mixed drink nearly came out of her nose as she choked up.
Tink, as usual, was walking with his head down. He was staying to his word and calling it a wrap after selling all his work. His girl was right, selling dope wasn’t the positive move. Sure it paid the bills, but the risks weren’t worth it. Yeah, Young Jeezy rapped about selling the snow, but that’s all he did. Tink would rather say “Welcome to Burger King” than bend over for a jackleg corrections officer to conduct a body cavity search. Just as he strolled under a busted streetlight he heard a car creeping up behind him. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, expecting it to be the D’s. The sight registered quickly. A black car with its lights out and someone leaning out the window holding a pump. He bolted toward the grassy vacant lot to his right.
“Shoot ’im! Shoot ’im! Shoot ’im!” Lamar shouted at Mance. Mance licked his dry lips, aimed, then eased back on the trigger. BOOM! The loud report from the pump rang in Mance’s ear as he watched his target stumble in the knee-high grass about twenty-five yards away. Mance aimed once more, then fired. BOOM! The target went down.
“GET THE SHELLS! GET THE SHELLS!” Lamar shouted.
“Huh?” Mance said, sliding back into his seat. Lamar shouted again for Mance to get the two shells that he had ejected from the pump. Luckily, he found them near the right rear tire. The second Mance was back inside, Lamar sped away with the lights off.
Tanisha just happened to be running up the block to catch Tink because he had left his cell phone by mistake. If it had been any other hustler she would have sold it the first chance she had. But Tink was cool. She was about a hundred yards away and seconds from yelling out Tink’s name just as the black BMW rounded the corner. She saw it. She saw Tink take off running through the field and saw the muzzle flash twice from the loud pump. She didn’t yell or scream. She just picked up her pace as the BMW sped off. Out of nowhere someone ran into her, knocking her flat on her ass. She was able to see Bizzy’s face as he hauled ass in the opposite direction. It was obvious that he had done something wrong. Dismissing Bizzy, Tanisha rose to her feet and prayed that Tink was okay.
Moments later Polo was pulling into Washington Terrace Projects bumping Boyz n da Hood’s “Dem Boyz.” Just as he pulled into a parking spot Trina came flying from her apartment. She was hysterical when she ran into Polo’s arms.
“MY BABY DEAD! MY BABY DEAD!” she sobbed.
Polo didn’t know what the fuck was up. At first he thought she meant her son.
Polo calmed her down and tried his best to get some sensible info from her. Once he did, he led her to the passenger seat, then ran back to the driver’s side, got in and sped off. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Not Tink, hell fuck no, not his family.
Nikki knew the shit was about to hit the fan as Lamar pulled into his driveway. Desiree had refused to let her call Mance. In truth, Nikki wanted to see what Lamar would do. She wasn’t feeling how he had secretly taped the sex act. But more personally, she knew there was a tape of her also. She had been fucking Lamar on the low for over a year and a half. She would never forget the night Lamar aka Kaseem had blindfolded her in his bedroom. That shit made her mad but the look on Desiree’s face was… let’s just say that it wasn’t pretty.
Lamar entered his den with Mance behind him. Lamar glanced at his Rolex as he walked toward Desiree. Eight-fifty-three p.m. He was about to apologize for the inconvenience and hug her but Desiree snapped and slapped the blackness out of him.
“You grimy son of a bitch!” Desiree vented.
Lamar rubbed his stinging left cheek as he told Mance and Nikki to excuse themselves. If he had looked at Nikki he would have seen her grinning. Lamar had no idea why Desiree was tripping, but he sure as hell planned to find the fuck out. When he was alone with her he again stepped toward her but she took a step back.
“Don’t even think about touching me!”
He froze, holding his hands. “Okay, let’s talk, Desiree. Explain to me why I’m getting disrespected in my own house?”
“You got the audacity to even let the word ‘respect’ roll out of your mouth! You fucking bastard.”
“What is this about, Desiree?” he said. “This can’t be because I’m late.”
“Nigga, you taped me having sex with you!” she shouted.
Lamar’s mouth fell open. Damn, he remembered leaving the disc in the projector.
“How many other times have you done this, Lamar?!”
He started to rub his temples again. This wasn’t a good night at all.
“I asked you a damn question, Lamar!”
“Baby, look, I…”
“Don’t call me that! FUCK YOU!” she shouted. She picked up her jacket and purse. When she attempted to walk past him, he reached for her arm but she jerked away.
“Desiree, let’s talk about this, okay?” he pleaded with her as she stormed toward the front door. “It’s not what you think. I… I wanted to surprise you.”
She stopped in her tracks and spun around with nothing but pure hate masking her face. “A surprise? Well I got one for you because I’m pressing charges!”
It was then that he realized that she had the disc. He thought about it. She would look trashy if anyone viewed the disc. He could say it was her idea but later she caught a scorned heart after she found him with another woman. He could make up that lie with ease. Hell, if she did press charges, he could even have another woman over when the police came to speak with him. The more he thought about it the less he cared. With a grin he pointed toward the door. “Leave.” Desiree bit her last words off as she spun around and left. Everything she felt for Lamar was dead. Her tears didn’t fall until she was backing out of his driveway.
* * *
The second Tanisha had gotten off the phone with Trina she had dialed 911. The block was now lit up with an ambulance and a half dozen police cars. Polo sat on the hood of his Dodge Charger as he watched a police officer help Trina into the back of the ambulance. He could also see the plainclothes detective asking the crowd for any tips but no one knew anything. Polo stood up as Tanisha made her way across the street. He motioned for her to get inside his car. He saw how she was shivering so he turned his car on to produce some heat.
“Thanks, Polo,” she said. “How is Trina?”
“Stressed the fuck out and mad,” he said wearily.
“I don’t blame her. I know she love her some Tink.”
“So what you got to tell me?”
Tanisha relaxed as the heat warmed her body. “I think one of Kaseem’s boys did it. You know, all dem black BMWs look the same to me.”
“Are you sure?” He sat up in his seat. She had his full interest now.
“Yeah. It had those black rims too. This one was a four-door. And Bizzy…”
“What about him?”
Tanisha told him she had run into Bizzy after the drive-by. Polo balled up his fists as his mind was filled with payback. He knew about Kaseem and how everyone on his team drove a BMW. All were black with black rims but no two drove the same model.
“Is Tink gonna be okay?” Tanisha asked as the ambulance slowly pulled away.
“Yeah. But he’ll be off his feet for a minute. I heard one of those paramedics saying Tink was lucky because he was hit with birdshot and not slugs.”
“I just saw all that blood on his back and plus he wasn’t moving.”
Tink was indeed lucky. But tonight would be a painful night with over thirty rounds of birdshot burning his back, his ass and the backs of his thighs. If the shots had been an inch or two higher he would have been hit in the back of his neck. Polo watched the crowd wander off as the ambulance rolled off. He then asked Tanisha if she had mentioned anything to anyone else.
“Nope. And you know I ain’t talking to no police.” She then asked him if he could take her to her cousin’s crib across town.
“Mance,” Lamar said, waving him to the den.
“What was all that about?” Mance asked. “Having girl problems?”
“Some bullshit,” Lamar replied. “Look, Datwon’s girl just called. I need you to go pick her up and run her home and back to the doctor’s office. And while you’re out, get rid of the pump.” He gave Mance the keys to his BMW. “Leave Nikki here. It’s better that this stays between us. I know you haven’t told her nothing.”
“No buts, Mance. I know we can trust her, but roll with me on this one.”
Mance nodded his head, took the keys, then headed for the front door. As soon as Mance backed out of the driveway Lamar had his arms around Nikki’s small waist. They kissed deeply as he backed her toward the sofa. When he laid her down she parted her legs.
“Wait,” she said, pulling from his kiss.
“You know what!” she said. “Don’t lie to me… but I know you’ve been taping us fucking.”
“Yeah… so what?”
She pushed him up off of her. “Why, Lamar? What if Mance sees one of them? All you had to do was ask me… but all this secret shit ain’t cool.” She frowned.
“Oh, so now you mad at me?” He sneered.
“No.” She folded her arms. “My nose ain’t stuck up like Desiree’s.” She smiled.
Lamar took her in his arms once more, softly nibbling at her neck. She gave in as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Within minutes he had her back on the sofa with her sweater lifted up and her bra unfastened. She palmed the back of his head as he sucked the erect nipple of her left breast. He was careful not to leave any passion marks. She laid her head back, closing her eyes when she felt her jeans being unzipped. Goose bumps formed all over her butt as Lamar tugged her jeans and her panties off. He was so keyed up that he had his dick out once Nikki freed one leg from her jeans. His pants were around his ankles when he moved his dick up and down the length of her pussy before he shoved himself inside her. Nikki dug her nails in his shoulders as he started penetrating her. They fucked hard and fast. Her one exposed breast jiggled erotically as Lamar rammed his dick in and out of her moist tight pussy.
“Oooooooohhhh, Lamar.” She panicked. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, oh, ohhhhh yes!” Lamar lifted her left leg on his shoulder and drove deeper inside her. Two minutes later he released inside her while calling out her name. Just as quickly as they had started, the two got dressed, then started kissing once more. Nikki knew she was wrong to be cheating on Mance, but it was so easy… so she did it. Mance saw Lamar like a brother, and he was blind to the way she acted around Lamar. She didn’t have any feelings for Lamar… she just liked to fuck and that was that. Their kissing caused another erection, so she unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick, lowered her head and sucked him off with her eye-rolling head game.
Polo sat in his ride a few feet from Bizzy’s crib, unsure how to step on Bizzy. What if Tanisha had been wrong and gotten Bizzy mixed up? Bizzy was known to carry his hammer at all times and wasn’t afraid to use it. Polo touched the .38 snub-nose that lay in his lap. He wished he had his .45 but the D’s had it. Tanisha’s warning rang in his head.
Don’t you go off doin’ nothing crazy and end up in jail.
Polo refused to even think about jail. But damn, he had to do something. A nigga tried to merk his family. He knew Tink would be okay, but he still had to do something. Making up his mind to put the .38 in his pocket, he stepped out into the cold. Just as he was about to close the door, Bizzy snuck up behind him and stuck something hard into the middle of his back.
At the same time, Lil’ Rick was in Goldsboro, North Carolina, in a hotel, eating a Pizza Hut pizza and watching TV. Datwon’s BMW was at the chop shop being stripped, and the meth would hit the streets tomorrow. When his cell phone rang, he wiped his greasy fingers, then answered the call on the third ring.
“What it do?” he answered.
“Boy, shit is crazy,” his cousin Melanie said.
“Whut, Kaseem lookin’ for me?” he asked. Not that he really gave a damn.
“Don’t know about that. But guess who got shot?”
“Word!” he picked up the remote and pressed the MUTE button.
“Yeah. My girl Lori just told me about it. Said it was a drive-by and that he was hit in his back.”
“Is he dead?”
“Don’t think so. You know Lori be twisting the facts and shit.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So… you still gonna hit me off with some bread?”
“Yeah, and don’t worry about me. Just keep your eyes and ears open on Kaseem and his boys.”
“I got you. Well, I’ll talk to you later, be safe.”
Lil’ Rick hung up, tossing the flip phone back on the lumpy pillow. He thought about Tink. Damn, what did he do to rate a drive-by? Nigga wasn’t pushing no weight or nothing. He bit into his pepperoni pizza and chewed with his mind on Tink. Lil’ Rick considered Tink to be his nigga, and he knew how tight Tink and Polo were. He wondered if Polo was out to get some revenge, and if he was, Lil’ Rick wanted to help. After his lick on Datwon, he now carried a Glock nine-millimeter… one that he was ready to use. Making up his mind, he turned the TV off, grabbed another slice of pizza, then headed out the door. His ride was a tan Toyota Camry XLE that belonged to one of his cousins who stayed in Goldsboro. Pulling out, he started to dial Polo’s cell phone number but changed his mind on the last digit. He would just wait until he reached Raleigh. Drama was definitely in the forecast tonight.
Polo’s heart skipped a few beats as Bizzy laughed in his ear and asked for a ride.
“Nigga, you need to be on point in the hood. Especially ridin’ ’round in this fly whip.”
Polo played along. If Bizzy had had anything to do with Tink being shot he would have made it known. When Polo pulled from the curb with Bizzy in the passenger seat he remained quiet. But not Bizzy.
“Yo, Polo… I gotta tell you somethin’ but you gotta keep it on the hush. Can you do that?”
Bizzy started from the beginning and told Polo how Mance had approached him about Lil’ Rick. He explained how he only suspected that Mance wanted to rough Lil’ Rick up over some money or some shit. Kaseem and his team had been in Raleigh for two and a half years and had yet to bust any guns. Until tonight.
“You know about Lil’ Rick messin’ wit my girl so I don’t too much care fo’ dat nigga and plus he robbed me and Dre last month,” Bizzy went on saying. He then explained how he had followed Lil’ Rick from Tanisha’s crib and up the block until Kaseem and Mance shot him.
“I thought they was gonna scoop Lil’ Rick up, yo. Before I could say or do anything, Mance started blastin’ on dat nigga, yo. Shiiit, I nearly broke some chick neck when I turned around and haulin’ ass, yo. Whut you think I should do? Like I said, I ain’t feelin’ Lil’ Rick, but I wasn’t down wit dat drive-by shit.” He left out the part about Mance paying him.
“That’s it?” Polo asked as he slowed for a red light on Capital Boulevard.
“Yeah. I feel about fucked up over it, yo.”
Polo cleared his throat. “Blue ain’t black.”
“I said, blue ain’t black.”
“You aiight, my nigga?”
“Yeah, I’m straight. But it’s you that got your colors mixed up.”
“Whut da fuck you talkin’ ’bout?”
“That was Tink you was following. Not Lil’ Rick. Nigga, you nearly got my cousin killed.”
Bizzy rubbed his face and spoke through his hand. “Say word, yo?”
“On er’thang I love, my nigga.”
Suddenly, it dawned on Bizzy why Polo had been parked out near his crib. But how in the hell had he known…
“You did some foul shit, Bizzy,” Polo said, breaking his thoughts.
“Is… is Tink dead?” Bizzy slowly moved for his hammer but Polo beat him to the draw. Bizzy stiffened in the leather seat as Polo stuck his .38 under his chin.
“I know you wasn’t goin’ for your heat?”
Bizzy shook his head no. “Nah, dawg… it… it ain’t like dat.”
Polo lowered his .38. “No, Tink ain’t dead. Just gonna be off his feet for a minute.”
“Good.” Bizzy exhaled. “So… whut you gonna do about Kaseem and Mance?”
Polo shrugged his shoulders, then asked why. Bizzy started grinning and said he better make up his mind soon.
“Why?” Polo asked again.
Bizzy nodded, then pointed across the intersection. “There’s Kaseem’s Beemer.”
Desiree was halfway home when she realized that she had left her cell phone back at Lamar’s. She had too much personal info on it for him to have. She was now stepping out of her car in his driveway. She noticed that his 740Li was gone and that was even better. She walked quickly past Mance’s BMW and up to the front door.
* * *
Lamar wasn’t worried about Mance sneaking up on him and Nikki because he had instructed Datwon’s girl to call him once Mance had taken her home and back to the doctor’s office. From the doctor’s office and back, it would take Mance a good twenty minutes. With this in mind, he was back between Nikki’s thighs. He had her facedown, ass-up, pumping her steadily in front of his blazing fireplace. Both were butt-ass naked. There was loud moaning, skin slapping, that had caused both of them to ignore the knocks at the front door. Lamar was fucking Nikki like a pro. Her pussy was popping around his plunging dick as he palmed her butt cheeks, lightly spreading them apart.
“Kaseem, Kaseem!” Nikki chanted as she enjoyed his every thrust. Her body was dripping with sweat. She knew she was going to need a shower before Mance came back. She also knew they were taking a big risk of being caught… but, in truth, it turned her on. Looking back over her shoulder she told him to do it hard. He started to lean forward to lick the sweat off her back just when Desiree walked into the den.
Datwon’s girl had been back at the doctor’s office for over ten to fifteen minutes before she remembered to call Lamar. She punched in his number but hung up on the second ring when Datwon woke up asking for some water. Her mind was on Datwon so once she hung up she had moved to Datwon’s side. Really, she didn’t see any big deal in calling Lamar anyway.
* * *
As for Mance, he had made it back to Lamar’s in record time. He shook his head when he parked behind Desiree’s car. She must not have been too mad, he figured. He locked up Lamar’s car, then walked up to the front door. He punched in the code, then stepped inside. The second he closed the door behind him he heard Desiree cursing and yelling. He rolled his eyes and headed for the den. He just wanted to get his girl and leave Lamar’s drama-filled crib. But just as he reached the entrance to the den, he froze at the sight before him. Desiree had her finger all up in Lamar’s face… who stood butt-ass naked. But what made his heart stop was the sight of his girl. Nikki was behind Lamar, clutching Lamar’s shirt over her naked body. He blinked as he put two and two together. Mance rushed into the den, pushed Desiree to the side, then hit Lamar with a two piece. Nikki screamed as Lamar staggered backward before shaking Mance’s two blows off. She stepped in between the two but Mance punched her in the face, knocking her flat on her back. Mance reached for Nikki’s purse, dumped it, then picked up her .38. Desiree was about to make her exit when Mance fired a shot over her head. She screamed and fell to the floor. Mance backed up until he could cover all three with the .38. Desiree shook with fear. Lamar held up one hand with the other covering his bloody mouth. Nikki was still knocked out.
“This how you gonna fucking do me, Kaseem! Fuck my girl behind my damn back. After all the loyalty I’ve shown you… huh? Nigga… I killed a nigga tonight for your bitch ass!”
“Mance, listen,” Lamar pleaded.
“SHUT THE FUCK UP, NIGGA!” Mance shouted. He looked down at Nikki’s nude body. His hate for Kaseem rose as visions of them fucking popped into his head. He gripped the .38 as tears filled his eyes. He thought about how much he had given Nikki during their four-year relationship. How he had never cheated on her, not once.
Silence ruled the den until Nikki slowly regained consciousness. She rolled to her side, then slowly sat up. Her nose was busted. She was fully aware of what had happened. Tears traveled down her face as she looked at Mance. “Baby…” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Her head snapped back as the bullet from the .38 punched her above her right eye. Her body remained erect before it fell backward. Desiree screamed as her hands covered her mouth. Lamar just shook his head as the blood flowed from Nikki’s head wound. Lamar started to plead his case. His angle was that Nikki wasn’t any good.
“Yeah, I know,” Mance said coldly. He lowered the .38 and saw Lamar release a deep breath. Lamar stood up but noticed the .38 was still aimed at him. Before he realized it, Mance had calmly squeezed off two shots at his groin area. Lamar crumpled, howling in torturous pain as he faced a slow death. Desiree’s screams filled Mance’s ears. Everything was moving in slow motion for Mance. He got tired of Lamar’s moaning so he shot him twice in the face. He then walked over toward Desiree, stepping over Nikki’s body. Desiree begged and begged for her life. Mance only smiled at her with tears in his eyes.
Polo and Bizzy had witnessed Mance’s murder spree by peeking through the window. Polo had followed Mance but what he was seeing now was something he didn’t want any part of.
“Let’s go, yo,” Bizzy whispered near Polo’s ear. Polo took that as some good advice but he remained glued to the window when Mance pulled his last victim toward the fireplace. He squinted to get a better look.
“C’mon, Polo!” Bizzy had a touch of urgency in his voice.
“Wait…” Polo said, pushing Bizzy’s hands from his jacket. “That’s… Ms. Eason! Whut the fuck!”
“Fuck dat. Let’s be out, yo.”
Polo ignored Bizzy as he watched Mance place the gun against Desiree’s forehead as she knelt in front of him.
“Please, Mance,” Desiree sobbed. “I…”
“Shut up!” Mance said, pressing the .38 into her forehead. Behind Desiree the blazing fire was making a cruel thought burn its way into Mance’s mind. He wanted to see her burn. He wanted her to suffer. He nudged her back toward the fire. When she felt the intense heat at her back she pushed forward but Mance started to choke her with one hand. He wanted her to burn alive. She raked at his face with her nails. She dug her nails in deeply to the white meat but he ignored the pain. Toying with her, he raised her to her feet. He released his grip. She gasped for air. Seeing how light and small she was, he dropped the .38, then ripped her sweater off with his free hand. Desiree fought, kicked, clawed and screamed as Mance shoved her toward the fire.
Polo knocked the back sliding glass door out as Desiree’s screams filled his head. He rushed toward the den with his .38 in his hands. When he reached the den he found Desiree fighting for her life with her back on fire. Polo rushed toward her, jumped over the sofa, landed on his feet, then shot Mance three times in his neck before he could turn around. He shoved Mance’s body to the side, then pulled Desiree from the fire to frantically beat the fire out on her back. She passed out from the pain. Seeing that she would live, he called 911 on Lamar’s phone, wiped off his prints and left it off the hook. He knew the 911 operator would send police sooner or later, and Polo would be missing by then. As he left with Bizzy he received a call from Lil’ Rick. He made it a point not to mention Lil’ Rick’s name.
“Whut up?” Lil’ Rick said. “My cuz tole me about Tink. Is he okay?”
“Yeah, got hit wit some birdshot.”
“Damn. Any idea who did it?”
“Nah,” he lied.
“Well… keep this on the low. But if you need a nigga, I’ll be ova Candy’s crib. Get at me, dawg.”
Polo hung up. “Bizzy.”
“That was Lil’ Rick. Look, I’ma keep what you told me to myself and you do the same about what went down at Kaseem’s crib.”
Bizzy crossed his heart then kissed his finger. “Dat’s a bet, my nigga. I’m not havin’ no D’s question me about nothin’.” In truth, it was his fear of Lil’ Rick. The deal of silence was sealed.
Five weeks later
Lil’ Rick was now back in Raleigh pimping hard in his new sunburst orange Hummer H2 rolling on twenty-eight-inch DUB rims. With Kaseem dead and his team broken up, he had no fear of anyone retaliating for his lick on Datwon. Even Datwon had packed up and left with his girl. Shit, he was happy to be alive.
Tink was home now. He could walk, but no running, nor could he lie on his back. The good news was that Trina was now four and a half weeks pregnant with his second seed. Tink also had a job. He worked at a kiosk selling black-authored novels for Vic Mar Publications. It was legal and positive and Trina was proud of her man.
As for Bizzy, he got tired of stressing about Lil’ Rick finding out about his deal with Mance, so he packed up and moved to South Carolina with his uncle.
Polo was still going back and forth to court for his gun charge—well, he only went twice but it was two times too many. Today he was waiting at his lawyer’s office to speak to his lawyer. He nodded at the new white legal assistant who had Desiree’s old office. Polo had been at Trina’s crib watching the news when the story had broken about the three dead bodies at Kaseem’s crib. He knew Desiree was okay when the reporter stated her condition but didn’t mention her name. He would never forget that November night.
“Tyrone Bell,” an unfamiliar voice called his name. He looked toward the door to see a fine shapely brown-skinned woman wearing winter apparel by Baby Phat from shoulder to feet. The woman walked toward him in her fur-lined boots and held out her gloved hand. Polo came to his feet.
“My name is Jelena,” she said.
“How you know my government name?” he asked after shaking her hand.
“You mean the one your mother gave you?” She smiled. Seeing that Polo didn’t return her smile she got serious. First, she thanked him for sending Desiree flowers when she was in the hospital. Polo lied and said it wasn’t him. She waved him off. She explained in a whisper that Desiree hadn’t mentioned his name to the police and that she now wanted to thank him for saving her life. Polo knew it was pointless to lie after Jelena had told him that she was Desiree’s best friend and roommate.
“How is Desiree doing?”
“Fine. Just minor burns on her lower legs and back. She’s a fighter.”
“She was right about you.” She smiled as she looked him up and down.
“Said you looked like Michael Vick.” She then looked him in his eyes. “Polo, do you have a girlfriend?”
“No… nobody to stress me if I don’t call or stay out. Why?”
“Like I said. My girl wants to thank you and I know she likes you and I’m just looking out for my girl.” She then asked him to follow her outside. There was a light snowfall but Jelena was traveling in a well-equipped tan gold Lexus LX 470. Sitting in the passenger seat was Desiree, wearing a black mink coat and YSL shades. He got into the back as Jelena got behind the wheel. There was an odd moment at first until Desiree broke the silence. She turned slowly in her seat to look at Polo. She removed her shades and said thank you. Polo said it was no big deal. But it was a major deal to her. He had killed a man to protect her. She then asked if he wanted to go out to dinner later on that night if he was free. He accepted her offer.
It was nine months later when Polo gave Desiree his last name. He was now a married man with a legal job and everything was all good.
Excerpted from What's Really Hood! by Clark, Wahida Copyright © 2010 by Clark, Wahida. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Meet the Author
Wahida Clark was born and raised in Trenton, New Jersey. She began writing fiction while incarcerated at a woman's federal camp in Lexington, Kentucky. Her first novel, Thugs and the Women Who Love Them, and the sequel, Every Thug Needs a Lady, appeared on the Essence bestsellers list. Since her release, Wahida has achieved much success with her follow-up of Thug Matrimony. Payback With Ya Life, made its way onto the prestigious New York Times bestseller's list. Wahida is working hard on her next novel in East Orange, New Jersey.
Victor L. Martin is the author of four published novels: A Hood Legend, Menage's Way, For the Strength of You, and Unique's Ending. He is currently incarcerated in a North Carolina prison.
LaShonda "L.L.Dasher" Sidberry-Teague is a Wilmington, North Carolina native, coming into her own as an up-and-coming author. She is the wife of author Kwame "DUTCH" Teague, one of the hottest street writers, and the mother of five children. She has found her calling in writing, and has her first novel coming soon, entitled Kiss. LaShonda lives by the motto...be a blessing and you will be blessed.
Bonta was born and raised on the mean streets of Chicago's southeast side. After graduating high school and a brief stay in the U.S. Army, he answered the streets' calling. His cost of chasing the mirage of fame and fortune was a 151-month federal sentence. While there, the legendary Joe Black inspired him to get serious about writing. Since then, he has written two novels and a few short stories.
Shawn "Jihad" Trump was born in Pennsylvania. In November 1999, Shawn was arrested and subsequently indicted by the federal government and sentenced to 84 months in prison. During his time there he learned to channel his emotions through writing. Since being released, Shawn continues to write and is also the partner of an up and coming indie label, South of the Burgh Entertainment. Shawn is married with two daughters.
and post it to your social network
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
See all customer reviews >
The book wasn't to shabby I just wished that the short stories wsere a little longer but i can honestly say it was pleasant to read. A quick east read I finished the book in a few hours.
What's Really Hood! is a collection of Tales from the Streets, comprising five fascinating stories of varying lengths in one satisfying book. I've never read street tales before, and I'm not familiar with the language or ways of the streets, except inasmuch as I've heard them on TV. So I wasn't sure how I'd like this book, but I was pleased to have the chance to try something new. Hachette sent me an advanced reading copy in readiness for the editor's blog tour and launch-date celebrations, and I'm delighted to be a part of that tour. As I started to read, I found myself struggling over unfamiliar words. Ho, hoes, babymama, shorty, and all the different names of types of cars, of clothes, of shoes, of bags. But the language in these tales is beautifully consistent, and soon I find myself hearing the voices in my head, fluidly telling their tales. I was particularly impressed with the way that the dialog reads, without the awkwardness that so often arises with different dialects and slang. Perhaps the fact that the writing voice matches the characters so perfectly is what makes it so smooth. The concerns of the characters are so far from my own-drugs, the search for another high, or another customer to sell to, the need for sex. But each of the authors conveys the characters' lives convincingly, drawing sympathy through the pain. Of all the stories, the one that will stay with me most is The P Is Free by LaShonda Teague. Even as the story grew darker, and hope more deeply obscured, this story seemed to continually promise something more, which it very satisfyingly achieved by its end. Black is Blue by Victor L. Martin is the first in the collection, well-placed as it crosses the lives of a corporate woman with thugs on the streets, and leads the reader into that different world, just as she finds herself awkwardly led. The Last Laugh by Bonta, builds up to a fascinating mystery and kept me turning pages, watching and wondering at each of the characters' motivations. All for Nothing by Shawn "Jihad" Trump tells a sad tale, movie-like in its scope and fierce emotion. And Wahida Clark's own Makin' Endz Meet closes the collection with ends that should never have met and a woman whose hopes and dreams have spiraled miserably out of control. The writing is very different from anything I've encountered before, frequently "telling" the character's emotions, but in such words and nuances that they're equally clearly "shown." I enjoyed this introduction to the characters and their world, a harsh place peopled with fascinating characters and cruel fates, but touched with hope. Thank you Wahida for this fine collection.
"Black Is Blue" by Victor L. Martin. In Raleigh, legal assistant Desiree falls in love with Polo the thug. She wants him to go straight while he wants her to walk on the other side. "The P is Free" by LaShonda Teague. Eighteen years old Wiz is addicted to the money selling drugs makes him. Crystal had it all including two years at Rutgers until she met crack. They fall love, but she realizes they are destroying each other, but she is doubtful whether she can stop her addiction to save their souls. "The Last Laugh" by Bonta. The Eight-Trey street gangbanger Bobo goes to see his five year old daughter, but her mama tall Carla beats him up for his dallying with Tasha. Others are after him too over Tasha; the streets are turning meaner for BoBo. "All For Nothing" by Shawn "Jihad" Trump. In McKeesport, the Point Blank Mob learns one of their members is facing a long sentence due to an informant wearing a wire. An affront to one is an affront to all so they go after the bi*ch who started the war even if law enforcement is coming for the gang. Jihad, like most of the crew with one exception, chooses fight over flight. "Makin' Endz Meet" by Wahida Clark. Nina is tired of men using her like Cream just did. She vows no more, but Reese seems different; still she wants to get her child back with her friend Michelle as the only person she trusts. This is a strong urban collection of life at its realistic meanest in the hood. Each entry is bloody while containing strong lead characters and a solid cast who bring to life What's Really Hood! Harriet Klausner
Although I have yet to read this book only because it ain't out yet, I am going to rate both the book and the author with 5 stars. Looks like Wahida is back on the grind, doing her thang! I love all of her books and I am a huge fan of Wahida's. Mrs. Clark always has a good story line to hold her readers down and keep them wanting more. Her characters seem so real as if they are the couple right next door. She has the drama, sex, secrets, streets and much more all rolled up into one. Her books are so hot, it's hard to keep them out of your hands. This book has yet to be released but I am sure this book will stand up to what Wahida is known for and that is giving her readers something they will never forget. Wahida is the woman of the Donald Goines (another great author). I can not wait to get this book. I read Wahida's book within one to two days. All of her books are must reads. When you get one of Wahida's books, make some time for yourself because you will not want to put them down!! Anyone reading Wahida's books will never come away from the story line disappointed just wanting more. Wahida keep doing you. Keep writing!
Wahida ... you did it again! I really enjoyed the short stories ... they had me wanting MORE!
this was a good book filled with thrilling short stories but i wished each story was a book of its own. as i began to really get into one story a next one would begin
What's Really Hood" is a compilation of five short stories depicting hood life. In the first story, `Black is Blue,' Victor L. Martin relates the story of Tyrone aka Polo, a thug vying for the love of Desiree, a legal assistant trying to make a better life for herself, which includes staying away from bad boys. She is involved with Lamar, Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes. Looks can be deceiving. The second story is a tale of two people; Wiz, who is looking to come up in life selling drugs, and Crystal, an erudite girl who was on her way to college and the American dream but whose life is now heading for the dumps. As fate would have it, they meet. Like two cars in opposite lanes on the highway, Wiz and Crystal's lives were heading in opposite directions. Fate brought them together again, where Wiz took an interest in her and decided to help turn her life around, but another twist of fate sends them in yet another direction. In the `Last Laugh' by Bonta, he reveals the nature of a person scorned. Bobo runs his section of Chicago administering brutal punishment to those who cross him. But can Bobo handle what he dishes out? Jihad's `All for Nothing' is a tale of two friends who after committing a crime are able to evade the police. In `Making Endz Meet,' Wahida Clark shows what greed will do to people. There are lessons to be learned. This compilation as a whole was okay. Teague did a good job of showing the many twists and turns life can throw our way. Jihad's story was crafty. And Clark teaches to be satisfied with what you have. That said, there was nothing really impressive or outstanding about any of the stories. There were highs and lows, more lows and evens out to a just okay read. Reviewed by: Humble 2.5
I HAVE TO SAY THAT I WAS PLEASANTLY SURPRISED WHEN I RECEIVED THIS BOOK.I LOVE READING SHORT STORIES AND WAS NOT DISAPPOINTED WITH THIS COLLECTION.THERE ARE 5 STORIES IN THIS COLLECTION AND EACH ONE WAS AN EXCELLENT READ. EACH STORY HAD ITS OWN IDEATION OF WHAT'S REALLY HOOD! IN THE STORY "BLACK IS BLUE" THE STORYLINE FOCUSES ON THE POTENTIAL LOVE INTERESTS FROM DIFFRENT ENDS OF THE CLASS SPECTRUM.CAN LOVE BE TRUE FOR A CORPORATE WOMAN AND A THUG? THIS READ WILL LET YOU KNOW. IN "THE P IS FREE" A YOUNG WOMAN CAUGHT IN THE GRIP OF DRUG ADDICTION IS TOLD TO "FIGHT" FOR HER LIFE SO THAT SHE CAN LIVE. "THE LAST LAUGH" TELLS THE TALE OF WHAT CAN HAPPEN WHEN SOMEONE THINKS THEY ARE ABOVE AND BEYOND REPROACH."ALL FOR NOTHING" SHOWS AN EXAMPLE OF WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THINGS TURN BADLY WHEN STREET THUGS RUN INTO TROUBLE AND LAST BUT NOT LEAST "MAKIN' ENDZ MEET". THIS HOOD TALE GIVES THE READER A TASTE OF WHAT THE HOOD IS LIKE WHEN A FEMALE IS RUNNING THINGS FOR HERSELF.THE ORDER IN WHICH THE TALES ARE PRESENTED, THE PACE AT WHICH. THEY ARE TOLD ALL GIVE THE READER THE DESIRE TO WANT MORE. I WOULD HIGHLY RECOMMEND THAT ALL OF THE FOLLOWING AUTHORS BE ADDED TO YOUR BOOKLIST AS THEY ARE THE NEXT HOTTEST READS.(VICTOR L. MARTIN, LASHONDA TEAGUE, BONTA, SHAWN "JIHAD" TRUMP AND. WAHIDA CLARK-AUTHOR OF A NEW YORK TIMES BEST SELLER) ZANDRA BARNES AAMBC REVIEWER