Animal 2 (12 page)

The first thing he noticed was how quiet it was. Drea lived two doors down from a liquor store, so her block was always busy. That day, it seemed calm. Standing in his yard, where he usually was, was Drea's next-door neighbor. He was a slightly older cat, with long dreads that could stand a good washing. He was sitting on a lawn chair, drinking a forty-ounce and smoking something that smelled like he had plucked it out of a random backyard. King had seen him a few times when he'd come through but never communicated with him beyond the cordial nod.

King could feel the neighbor's eyes on him as he passed, so he turned and met his gaze. The neighbor turned away. King jogged up the stairs to the apartment and knocked on Drea's door. A few seconds later, he was greeted by a pretty brown-skinned girl draped in only a bathrobe and house shoes. She was dressed like she had just been lying around, but her hair was flawless, and you could still smell the spray in her weave.

“About time you made it,” Drea said with a fake attitude.

“You know I keep a hectic schedule.” King invited himself in. Drea was a hood chick, but her apartment was nicely furnished and always spotless. King took his jacket off and laid it on the arm of the sofa before plopping down and grabbing the remote to the big-screen television. The .32 was sticking him in the hip, so he took it out of his pants pocket and slipped it into his coat.

“Arrogant-ass Harlem nigga.” Drea shook her head. She climbed onto King's lap, straddling him. “And how you gonna come into my house and not show me no love?” She tried to kiss him on the lips, but he gave her his cheek. “What's the matter, baby?”

“Nothing, but you know I'm not really into all that,” King said. “So what's good with you, though?” King slipped his hand inside her bathrobe to throw her off the subject. His fingers traced over her soft skin.

“Waiting on you to come give me what I need.” Drea slipped her hand between her legs and squeezed King's dick through his jeans. She leaned in so close that her breath brushed his neck when she whispered in his ear. “You got something to get me in the mood, baby?”

King knew what time it was. “You know I do.” He reached
over to his coat and pulled a rolled-up brown paper bag from the inside pocket. “Get right, and get me right.” He tossed the bag to Drea.

Drea squealed like a schoolgirl when she emptied the contents of the bag onto the coffee table. The bag contained the three Bs: beans, blunts, and blow. Drea was a party girl, and King knew what turned her on. He sat back like a proud father and watched as she began her dance with the dark side.

Drea did a few lines, washing them down with a blunt filled with high-grade weed, and was feeling no pain. She got up from the couch and started dancing to the song playing on the television's music station. With a blunt pinched between her lips, she started doing a striptease. Her weed-slanted eyes looked down at King hungrily as she pushed her robe off one shoulder, then the other. She was naked except for a pair of purple lace panties. Drea licked her fingertips and began playing with her nipples, daring King James to conquer her.

He rose to the challenge.

King got up from the couch. He felt a bit light-headed, but he wasn't sure if it was from the weed he'd smoked or the beating of his heart. So much blood was flowing to his dick that he thought it would explode in his pants. She scooped her hands under her armpits. She knew what it was, so she wrapped her legs around his waist. The pill had Drea's skin on fire, and the blow had her swerving. King held her up with one hand and undid his pants with the other. When his dick was finally free of the restrictive jeans, he guided it to her love cave.

Drea gasped when King entered her. His thickness threatened to tear her open, but it hurt too good for her to tell him to
stop. She wanted him to go deeper. He did. King stroked Drea slow and deep, making her a little wetter every time he speared her. She tried to bite his neck, but he pushed her face away. Out of spite, she slammed herself harder on his cock. Drea locked eyes with King, and no words were necessary. He knew what she wanted and was happy to give it to her.

King pulled out of Drea and turned her around. He entered her from the back and found her box to be just as inviting as it had been from the front. He wrapped his massive hands around her waist and pulled her to him while stabbing deep inside her. He felt Drea release herself down his legs and smiled before he plunged deeper into her. It was like magic.

The next forty minutes were a blur. All King could remember were flashes of pleasure and pain as he and Drea ravaged each other. When he was about to blow his load, Drea jumped off him and took his dick in both hands. She jerked it fast and furiously, spitting on it and talking to it. King grunted, letting her know that he was about to cum, and she opened her mouth as wide as she could. A spray of white jizz coated Drea's face and lips. For good measure, she took him in her mouth and squeezed his dick until it was empty. King collapsed on the couch, breathing heavy and waiting for his leg to stop shaking. He looked over at Drea, who was propped on one elbow, playing with the excess cum on her lips.

“Damn, you are one freaky muthafucka,” King said breathlessly.

“And you love this freak bitch.” She tugged his dick and gave it a little lick.

King heard his phone go off in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text message that flashed across the screen. His
face immediately soured. It was Fatima hitting him to let him know Ashanti got popped. Ashanti was one of King's best, and losing him would hurt. “Damn,” he said, replying to the text. He dropped his phone back into his pants pocket and got off the couch. “Yo, I gotta dip back to the city right quick,” he told Drea.

She looked at him as if he had lost it. “Oh, hell nah, nigga, how you just gonna come through, blow in my mouth, and keep it moving like I'm some bird?” She was upset.

“Drea, it ain't even like that. Some shit popped off on the block with my lil' mans, and I gotta go see about them,” he told her before disappearing into the bathroom. He took a quick shower, then came back into the living room to jump into his clothes. Drea sat at the dining-room table, with her arms folded, staring daggers at King the whole time he dressed. He thought about just breaking down to her everything that was going on, but he figured why bother? Family business wasn't Drea's business. She would either understand or she wouldn't. He didn't have time to care.

After slipping his Timberlands on, King looked to the arm of the chair where he had laid his jacket and didn't see it.

“Here.” Drea handed him his jacket off the back of one of the dining-room chairs. At some point, she must've moved it.

“Thanks, ma. I'm gonna call you later, OK?” King told her.

“Whatever.” Drea got up and walked into her bedroom, slamming the door.

King decided to leave it be, so he just slipped his jacket on and headed out. When he was coming out of Drea's apartment, he spotted the guy from next door. Instead of sitting in his driveway, he had moved his lawn chair to the front of Drea's
spot. Two of his friends had joined him, and they were shooting dice at the bottom of the stairs, directly in King's path.

“Pardon self,” King said, coming down the stairs. The three moved to the side and let King pass. One of them was staring at his chain like it was the
Last Supper
.

“What you claiming?” one of the dudes asked King. King's face said that he was puzzled, so the kid explained. “You got a seven and a star on your chain. What gang is that?”

King looked from his chain to the dude. “It ain't a gang, brother. It's a way of life.”

The other dude spoke up. “You know we ride that five over here, so some might take you flagging as a sign of disrespect.”

King could smell bullshit a mile away. “I hear you talking, shorty.” He turned to leave, but two guys blocked his exit.

“Yo, my dude, you been coming around here for a minute, and I been racking my brain trying to think where I know you from, and it didn't hit me until today,” the dread from next door said.

“Fam, whoever you think I am, I'm not that nigga,” King told him, and kept walking. His hand was already jammed into his pocket and clutching the .32.

“Yeah, I think you that nigga,” the dread continued. He had fallen into step behind King, with his friends in tow. “Word is one of the homies put a red light on you. You know OG Swann, don't you?”

King's jaw tightened at the mention of Swann's name. He disliked him more than he disliked Shai. “Listen, shorty, what's between me and Swann is between me and Swann. Don't make the next man's problems your problems. Shit like that never ends well.”

“This is all business, big brah.” The largest of the goons stepped forward. He had a hard black face and yellow teeth that were on the verge of falling out. “Swann got some paper on your face, and we aim to collect. But I'm a sporting man, so I'll tell you what, give up that chain, and I'll give you a five-minute head start before me and my homies eat your food.”

King James laughed. “Check this out, son. I spent years in prison and ain't never been robbed, so it sure as hell ain't gonna happen on the streets.” He pulled his .32 and, without hesitation, pointed it at the kid and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened.

•  •  •

Drea listened for King to go out the door before she retrieved her cell phone from the dresser and dialed the dread from next door. He and Drea were more than neighbors; they were occasional fuck buddies. The dread was hardly her speed as far as the men she seriously dated, but he had a decent dick game. More important, he was pussy-whipped off Drea's goodies and would do anything she asked, including kill.

“Yeah, he on his way down,” Drea said once he'd answered the phone.

“He strapped?” the dread asked.

“Yeah, but I don't think it'll do him much good,” she said sinisterly, juggling the bullets in her hand that she'd removed from King's gun while he showered. What she was doing was filthy, but she figured the bounty on King James's head could buy her enough soap to wash away the sin.

•  •  •

“Shit,” King said, looking at his gun in disbelief.

Using his moment of confusion to their advantage, the
Jersey cats moved on him. The big dude, who had asked for his chain, struck first, catching King on the chin with a solid punch. King retaliated by slamming the empty gun into the side of his head. That hurt him, but it was the left King followed with that knocked him out.

King took a boxer's stance and addressed the last two. “You niggaz wanna dance? Let's get it!”

They had planned on stomping him out and snatching his chain before turning him over to Swann's people, but seeing their friend sleeping on the curb gave them pause. Any ideas they had about seeing King James in combat went out the window, so the weapons came out. One produced a bat and the other a gun.

King was by no means a punk, but he knew that a good run beat a bad stand any day, so he threw the empty gun at them and bolted for the truck. A shot whistled past his ear and shattered the rear window. He got low and dipped around to the driver's-side door, hitting the automatic locks. He had just made it inside the truck when the driver's-side window shattered. Glass sprayed him in the face, cutting his cheek and forehead. Before he could fully recover, the guy with the bat proceeded to bust out his windows. Frantically, he threw the truck into gear and tried to make his escape.

King crashed back and forth into the car in front of him and the one behind him, trying to get out of the parking spot. Just as he burst free, the dread who had pulled the gun jammed it through the broken window and tried to blow King's face off. King avoided the bullet by mere inches; it whizzed past him and struck the glove compartment. King grabbed the dread by his arm, locking it in position, and stepped on the gas.

“You tried to assassinate me, pussy?” King snarled. “I'm King James, nigga. I'm invincible!”

The gunman felt the car pick up speed and fired another shot in panic. This one struck the passenger seat. King jerked the dude's arm and snapped it, causing the gun to fall into his lap. “Let me go, muthafucka!” the gunman shrieked. His feet were skidding along the ground as he tried to keep up with the truck.

“Gladly.” King released his arm. The dread hit the ground and rolled end-over-end until he slammed face-first into the fire hydrant. He was dead on impact.

•  •  •

King James did one hundred miles per hour until he was back on the highway and safely out of Newark. He couldn't believe what had just gone down. He pounded the steering wheel in frustration as he replayed the tail of the tape in his head. Of all the speeches he had given his soldiers about pussy being the downfall of many great hustlers, he couldn't believe he had almost joined that number. Drea was food when he next saw her. That went without saying. The bad part about it was that he was starting to like Drea, but she had proven to be as scandalous as the rest. The heart had no place in the game.

The most surprising revelation was that Swann had set it up. King had gone out of his way to keep Drea a secret. Not even his closest comrades knew exactly who she was or where she lived, but Swann had been able to get to her. He had underestimated his enemy's reach, and it had almost cost him his life. He wouldn't make the mistake again.

King pulled out his cell and punched in a number.

“Peace.” Lakim answered on the second ring.

“Ain't shit peace right now, sun. Shorty in Newark tried to lay me down for a nap,” he said, speaking in code.

“Yo, God, I told you about fucking with them snake bitches out there. They don't play by anybody's rules but their own in Newark. Essex County is the Wild West.”

“True indeed, but dig the punch line. Pretty boy put the battery in her,” King said, referring to Swann.