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Authors: Boston George

Knee Deep in the Game (9 page)

BOOK: Knee Deep in the Game
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Instantly Melissa felt her pussy getting soaking wet; as bad as she wanted the dick she had to remain cool.
“Hold on I think we moving a little too fast,” Melissa said, removing Pop's hands from her breast. In all reality she just didn't want to seem like a jump-off or a slide, because the truth was she wanted Pop more than he wanted her.
“Plus, it's getting late,” she continued, “and I got school in the morning, sweetheart.”
“I respect that,” Pop said, making the engine come back to life.
The two chitchatted until they reached the front of Melissa's building.
“Damn, these bum-ass niggas is still outside,” Melissa stated, talking about the local thugs that stood in front of her building. “All they do is roll dice all day, drink forty ounces, and talk shit all night long.”
“Yeah, but that's every project,” Pop said, checking out Melissa's ass as she slid out the vehicle.
“Maybe next time I'll invite you upstairs,” she said, sticking her head in the passenger window.
“That would be nice,” Pop countered smoothly.
“Maybe,” Melissa said as she turned and headed to her building, throwing a little bit of extra switch on her walk.
“Damn, shorty thicker than a Snickers bar son,” one of the thugs said, unconcerned about how his words would affect the woman walking in the building.
“Damn, her ass is fat,” his drunk partner cut in. “You wanna do something strange for some change?” The two thugs laughed loudly, not caring about the feelings of the woman who they spoke of.
“Why don't y'all get a fuckin' life? Melissa said angrily as she entered the building. So happy that the elevator was right there, she just pressed her floor repeatedly until the door finally closed and took her upstairs.
Once Pop was sure that Melissa had made it inside the building, he quickly hopped out his car and headed in the next building.
Pop was in love with two women. He knew it was wrong, but what was he supposed to do? He had feelings for both women. Nika was a down-ass chick who was down for him despite where he came from and Melissa was the chick that he had dreamed of bagging. She was a necessity for every hood nigga. She was the showpiece and the bad bitch that he needed on his arm. She symbolized his arrival. He had a special place in his heart for both ladies. He hoped he never had to choose.
Chapter Eight
“Fresh, why don't you put a smile on that handsome face of yours?” Amanda said, trying to cheer her man up.
“I ain't got a fuckin' thing to be smiling about right now,” he said, pausing for a moment, “and I'm damn sure not happy to be sitting up in this fuckin' hospital.”
“Fresh, all you doing is thinking about all the negative shit, why don't you start thinking about the positive shit?”
“There ain't a damn thing positive about lying up in a hospital bed,” he growled.
Fresh was about to continue but held onto the rest of his words when he saw the nurse come in carrying a whole bunch of flowers and balloons.
“I'm sorry if I disturbed you,” the nurse said, placing the flowers and balloons on the table in the corner of the room. “Can I get you anything before I go?” she asked innocently.
“No, thank you, I'm fine, Fresh answered, knowing he was in big trouble.
As soon as the nurse stepped out of the room Amanda was all over him. “Who the fuck is sending you flowers and shit?” she asked with fire in her voice.
“How the fuck would I know?” Fresh said, already knowing shit was about to hit the fan.
“You don't know? Okay, why don't we just find out,” Amanda growled, snatching the card out of the flowers.
“I'm sorry I couldn't make it, baby,
Amanda said, making sure she dragged out the words before she finished reading the card. “
I hope you get well soon, love Vanessa
.”
“Who the fuck is Vanessa?” she asked, placing the card inches away from Fresh's face so he could get a good look at it.
Fresh didn't answer, instead, he just shook his head no. “I don't know who that is.”
“Now you just going to play stupid, right?” Amanda asked as fire blazed in her eyes and a frog caught in her throat.
“Yo, I don't know who the fuck that is. What you want me to do?” Fresh said, lying with a straight face.
“Fuckin' liar! I look stupid to you, mu'fucka?” Amanda asked, trying to fight back the tears. “Trust and believe ain't no bitch sending you no flowers and balloons out the blue—that bitch is sending you shit for a reason.”
“I told you I don't know who the fuck that is,” Fresh answered, quickly getting an attitude.
“Bullshit, Fresh!
Con quien estas hablando
?” Amanda went off in Spanish, demanding to know who Fresh was talking to as she placed her hands on her hips. “Don't fuckin' play with me, Fresh, 'cause you know I don't be with all that bullshit,” she warned.
Once Fresh heard Amanda start talking in Spanish he knew she was heated. “Listen, baby, calm down for a second, I told you I don't know no fuckin' Vanessa,” he lied again.
“Well, she sure as hell know who you are,” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. “Now explain.”
“Ain't nothing to explain,” Fresh said. “I don't know who sent them shits.”
“Fuck you, Fresh, you a real piece of shit you know that? I'm out of here. You about to lose a good thing.
Perdedor
!” Amanda said, calling him a loser as she stormed out of the room.
“Damn,” Fresh said, looking up at the ceiling. he didn't know what the fuck Amanda was saying, but he knew he had just fucked-up big time. He figured Amanda would come back eventually, or so he thought.
 
 
“Listen, I don't want no bullshitting when we get in there, we going to smoke everybody in the mu'fuckin' house pointblank,” Rusty stated as the rest of the crew loaded their weapons. Everybody in the crew wore all black like Rusty had instructed.
“I'm laying something down tonight!” Pooh said, admiring the shotgun he clutched with two hands.
“Three men in each van,” Rusty said as the crew split up into two different vans.
Pop could tell by the look on Rusty' s face that it was about to go down like a plane crash.
 
 
“Yo, King, you ain't ready yet?” Bamboo yelled to the next room.
“Be there in a second,” King responded. He stood in the next room strapping on his bulletproof vest and making sure his twin .45s were fully loaded.
“Damn, nigga, it took you long enough,” Bamboo said, ready to take his wife out for her birthday. “You know we got reservations,” he reminded the big man.
“Sorry about that, boss man,” King apologized.
“Why don't you lay off him a little bit?” Nancy said, walking toward the front door.
“The rest of you mu'fuckas find something to do, just don't disrespect my house,” Bamboo instructed as he, Nancy, and King headed out the front door.
Once in the all-black Denali with smoke-tinted windows, King made the engine come to life and headed for the restaurant. As King drove toward the highway he noticed two mini-vans back-to-back speed past him. The bodyguard paused for a second then paid the mini-vans no mind, and continued toward the high way.
 
 
“Yo, me, Pop, and Pooh going through the front door, you three take the back door,” Rusty ordered, screwing the silencers on his twin 9 mm's.
Once Pooh reached the front door, he aimed his shotgun at the door and shot it off the hinges.
Boom!
Rusty was the first one in the house, followed by Pop. “Everybody on the fuckin' floor now!” Pop yelled, letting two shots off into the ceiling to let the men in the house know he meant business.
Seconds later, the three other gunmen came busting through the back door. Each man wore a ski mask making sure their identity was concealed. Once they had control of the situation, Rusty made sure he shot each man in the back of the head one by one execution-style.
“What we do now?” Pooh asked.
“We wait,” Rusty answered quickly as he cut off all the lights in the house.
 
 
Bamboo and Nancy were enjoying their meal, while King stood up watching over the rest of the rich people eat their food, making sure no trouble came the couple's way.
“This shit is the bomb,” Bamboo said, cutting off another piece of his steak and placing it in his mouth.
“Thanks, baby, for taking me to my favorite restaurant,” Nancy said, sipping on her watermelon martini. “It's just sad that the only time we get to go out together is on my birthday.” She pouted like a baby.
“Come on, babes, you know I will be busy a few more months and this shit is going to be all over with,” Bamboo said with little energy.
“You always say that,” she reminded him.
“Nah, I'm dead-ass this time. I was thinking about taking a year off. Just me and you to go enjoy ourselves on a nice island or something, what you think?” he asked her.
“Aw, my baby is the best,” she said, feeling all good inside.
“I think I'm ready to go now baby,” Nancy said, licking her lips. Once Bamboo saw what she had in mind it was a wrap; he could already feel his wife's warm mouth sliding up and down his dick. He knew exactly how freaky his wife could be, especially when she had a few drinks in her system, not to mention it was her birthday.
“Check, please,” Bamboo said, flagging down the waiter, not wasting any time.
 
 
“Where the fuck is this clown?” Rusty said aloud as he peeked through the blinds. “This mu'fucka getting me tight, I'ma really hurt this nigga when he finally bring his ass home.”
“He' s going to have to come back home tonight, we've just got to be patient,” Pop stated quietly as they continued to wait.
 
 
“Yo, King, keep your eyes on the road,” Bamboo said, unzipping his zipper.
When Bamboo pulled out his love stick, Nancy was all over him. She quickly made Bamboo's dick disappear like a magic trick as she placed the whole thing in her mouth.
“Damn,” Bamboo moaned as he guided his wife's head up and down with his hand.
Twenty minutes later King pulled up in the driveway.
“Hold up, hold up, something ain't right. Why the fuck is all the lights out?” Bamboo asked, pulling out his Desert Eagle. “Let me call Danny real quick and see what's poppin',” he said as he pulled out his cell phone. “Something ain't right, Danny ain't answering his phone—back the fuck up out of here,” Bamboo ordered, sensing something was wrong.
“What them fools doing out there?” Pop asked.
“They just sitting there in the driveway,” Rusty answered as he heard a phone ringing. “Whose phone is that?” he asked, looking around.
“That's his phone,” Pooh answered, pointing to the dead man sprawled out across the floor.
Seconds later, Rusty saw the Denali start to back out the driveway.
“Come on, they trying to leave!!” Rusty yelled as he ran to the door.
Once Rusty snatched open the front door, Pop aimed his Mac 10 at the Denali and pulled the trigger.
Pat, tat, tat, tat, tat!
Bamboo and Nancy quickly took cover as shattered glass showered their bodies.
“Get us the fuck out of here!” Bamboo yelled from the backseat, draping his body over Nancy's.
As King went to place the truck in drive, Rusty ran straight up to the front of the truck and let off five shots into the big man's chest. The impact from the shots caused King's body to jerk back and forth like he was having a seizure. Somehow the big man remained focused and stepped on the gas. Before Rusty could get out of the way, the Denali plowed into him, sending him flying on top of the hood. As King bent the corner, Rusty went flying out into the middle of the street. Before the Denali cleared the corner, Pop made sure he shot out the back window, hoping he might catch a head or two.
“Come on, we have to get out of here!” Pooh yelled, helping Rusty get back to his feet.
When King made it around the corner, he pulled over to avoid an accident. “I can't drive no more, I think my fuckin' ribs are broken,” he cried out in pain as he peeled off his bulletfilled vest.
“Nancy get the fuck in the front seat,” Bamboo ordered as he hopped out the Denali and helped King crawl into the backseat. Before Bamboo could get in the driver's seat three blue-and-white cop cars came to a screeching stop right in front of him.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” the officer yelled as he called for more backup on his walkie-talkie.
“Yo, call an ambulance—we got a man shot in the backseat,” Bamboo said as he placed his hands behind his head and dropped down to his knees, already knowing the procedure.
“Miss, I'm going to need you to step out the vehicle as well,” the officer said, aiming his weapon at the woman in the backseat.
“Hang in there, King,” Nancy whispered as she kissed the big man on his forehead and got down on her knees next to her husband.
 
 
“Yo, grab his legs,” Pop yelled as him and Pooh struggled to get Rusty in the back of the van. Once everyone was in the van, the van quickly burned rubber.
“You a'ight?” Pooh asked, looking down at Rusty.
“Yeah, I'm good,” Rusty said, clearly in pain. “Did we get that nigga?”
“I don't know, Pop answered. “I doubt it, though.”
“Mu'fucka knew we was in there.” Rusty winced in pain. “That's why he ain't get out the car.”
“How did he know?” Pooh asked.
“How the fuck would I know,” Rusty huffed. “And slow this mu'fucka down before we get pulled over.”
“You need to go to a hospital?” Pop asked.
“Fuck outta here,” Rusty growled. “Only pussies go to the hospital if they ain't shot or stabbed.”
“A'ight, fuck it, just stay in pain then,” Pop said as the whole van erupted with laughter.
“Fuck that, just take me home,” Rusty said, mad that the original mission wasn't accomplished.
“Don't even worry about it, we gon' get him next time,” Pop said as each man rode in silence for the rest of the ride.
BOOK: Knee Deep in the Game
3.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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