Forbidden Fruit

Forbidden Fruit

A Street Tale

Nika Michelle

www.anexanderbooks.com

Chapter 1

The first time I saw him I was fourteen. At the time I was in and out of juvenile detention centers. The case worker the system had assigned to me said that I was just “acting out” for attention. She also claimed that I didn’t know how to interact with people on a social level, because my mother and father were unfit.

My parents were hardly deserving of the title. My mom was strung out on crack before I was six years old. She never cared one way or another whether me and my little sister Amaya had a bite to eat or clothes on our backs. My father was sentenced to life in prison because of other warrants and the murder of his live in girlfriend. He had caught her and his best friend in their bed and snapped. He had beaten his best friend down with a bat and put him in a coma for months. He was also charged with attempted murder. This all went down when I was twelve.

By the time I was thirteen I was skipping school to run drugs for my father’s workers. My father was a drug dealer by the way. That’s how my mom ended up strung out. She’d started with a little weed here and there, which stemmed into coke, and later graduated to crack.

People say that weed is a gateway drug, but to me that’s bullshit. I think it’s all about greed. One high isn’t strong enough and the person wants more, so they try something stronger. Personally, weed is enough for me. That X and shit is not my cup of tea. After my dad got locked up my mom became worst. She was still in love with him and the thought of him being away from her for life drove her over the edge. Next thing I knew, she was shooting up heroin.

In order to take care of my little sister I had to take on the responsibility early. To get food and clothes for us I stole whatever I could. My other hustle was watching out for my father’s old workers and running drugs for them. They promised my dad that they would take care of me. He had no idea that they were training me to become a criminal.

The first time I got arrested I was caught stealing at Saks. I was only thirteen and I‘d snatched up a few Gucci bags at Lenox Square Mall. Another hustle I’d picked up was selling stolen merchandise. Back then they didn’t have the expensive bags secured like they do now. Because I was a minor I was ordered to spend time with a foster family after doing thirty days in “juvie”.

My sister was taken away from my mom and we were separated for about eight months before I saw her again. My foster parents were just in it for the money so I was still in the streets. My sticky fingers got me caught up about two more times, but I wasn’t punished to the point of rehabilitation. I was released two days before my fourteenth birthday. The child protective services sent me and Amaya to live with our cousin Vernice. Vernice was thirty six years old and had a daughter about my age. That’s where the story begins.

* * *

Because my mother was also a foster child and my father’s people were all gangsters, me and Amaya didn’t have anybody but Vernice. Although Vernice had a two bedroom house and a decent job, she was not strict on me and her daughter Princess. I thought I was bad, but Princess was worst. She’d never been to “juvie”, but she had her share of issues.

We would sneak out at night and hang out in Gladstone Projects. Vernice would be laid up with her “Boo” David so she wasn’t concerned with me and Princess. I met Ablo the day after my birthday. Me and Princess had crawled out of the window of the bedroom that we shared with Maya.

See, Princess was no angel. As a matter-of-fact I was still a virgin and she’d already had sex with four boys. So although I’d been in trouble and she hadn’t, she was still bad in other ways. She just hadn’t gotten caught up yet. Her problem was that she couldn’t stay away from the streets, and the street life. I was given the streets, so it was nothing to me. We walked up the block and mad people were out. I know that we were young, but we starved for the nightlife. I had no idea that my life would change that night. If I had known what was to come I would’ve stayed clear of that street corner.

We were on the block laughing with a few of the high school boys that Princess knew. With me not being from that side of the city I didn’t really know anybody. It was the middle of June and school started in August. I would be starting the eighth grade because I’d flunked out due to bad behavior, and cutting school. Princess was fifteen and would be going to the tenth grade. She was on point with school, until I came along.

“ ‘Cause Yanna. We grew up together and I know you. We might not’ve been around each other for the past year or so, but I know how your mind work,” she said seriously.

“Oh, c’mon Princess. You the one that’s fuckin’ and shit, not me.”

“So, ain’t none of ‘em been over eighteen,” she said like it was nothing. I knew that she was lying.

“Yo’ Ace! C’mere nigga!” Ablo yelled out of the car window. It was ’93 and Explorers were the shit back then. He had chrome rims and a personalized license plate that read 1Blo. I was dying to see his face.

A short, cute, light-skinned dude ran to Ablo’s side of the SUV. I watched as a bronze colored arm extended out of the vehicle and handed who I assumed to be Ace, a package. I couldn’t help but notice the black cobra tattooed on his arm. It symbolized exactly what the persona of Diablo stood for. He was the well-respected, venomous king of the streets.

I was only fourteen at the time, but I was very mature looking for my age. I was often mistaken to be a few years older. I was hoping that this Ablo would be easily fooled. My young hormones were raging and Princess’s numerous stories of her sexual escapades had me wondering.

Princess looked at me and shook her head.

Finally Mr. Ablo stepped out of the car and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. If I hadn’t seen fine before, I saw it right then. His smooth bronze skin and naturally curly hair made me feel weak all over. He was about 5’10 and weighed about 185 lbs. He was toned and I could tell that he was cut up with his white wife beater on. His strong jaw line and big clear light brown eyes with the long lashes were all so perfect. I never felt so attracted to the opposite sex before. The fact that he was so much older than me gave me a challenge. He was standing about two feet from me and we locked eyes for a split second. He licked his thick, brown lips and I sighed a heavy sigh.

“Anyhow, he run the streets with Ace, Mont, and his cousin Juan. They call Juan “Scarface”, because he got a cut on his cheek from a fight he was in ‘bout four years ago. Shit, niggas don’t use knives no more. They deep. They don’t really call theyselves a gang, but they do have different sets all over Georgia. They not just here in Atlanta. Him and Juan is Cuban and black. Them niggas got more bitches than a lil’ bit.,” she explained.

“Diablo Perez,” I repeated letting it roll off my tongue. I decided that night that I would concentrate on getting him. He would be mine, and I would be his “main” bitch. He would get me into the game and we would build our own empire. I wanted to be the biggest queen pen that Atlanta had ever seen. That street shit was in my blood and I could feel it brewing even at the tender age of fourteen.

Diablo started the Explorer up and made an illegal U turn. It didn’t matter because they kept the cops on their payroll. He drove up lowly and stopped in front of me and Princess.

I blushed and looked away. Maybe he
was
out of my league.

Anyway, that is how I met Diablo Perez nine years ago. I was determined and by the time I was eighteen, he was mine.