Street Soldier 2 (8 page)
Authors: Silhouettes
I wanted to walk away; after all, I was doing my best to change my life around and stay away from all of the nonsense. But the whole thing with Raylo and Mama had my blood boiling over. For this nigga to inject himself in this was one big ... huge mistake. I stepped up to him and pulled the back of his hair that was in a two-inch nappy afro. I rubbed the tip of my gun against his lips, watching them tremble.
“You wanted to teach me a lesson, huh?” I said.
He quickly nodded as the sheen of sweat from his forehead started to trickle down his face. “Yeah, man. That's all. No hard feelings, all right?”
I pushed the gun into his mouth, ordering him to suck on it. “Go ahead,” I said. “Lick the hole and taste it real good. Then, I'ma teach you a lesson.”
The man's eyes bugged as he rolled his tongue on my Glock and licked the hole. As his mouth widened just a tiny bit, I pulled the trigger, watching his blood splatter. “The lesson,” I said, looking at his eyes that were now closed forever. “Don't fuck with me again.”
I quickly jetted, feeling frustrated as ever and hating to go there. All kinds of thoughts were running through my head, but what I'd done to Raylo's partner was in the back of my mind. I was concentrating on Raylo. It really didn't make sense for him to do something to Mama, especially after all of these years. If he was going to kill her, he would have done so years ago. I had to believe that she was just mad at him and was taking it out on me too. Maybe she didn't want nobody to get in touch with her, and if that was the case, I was gon' get in her shit whenever I saw her again.
Before going upstairs to my apartment, I checked in at the laundromat to see how business was going. For a Sunday night, it was booming. It was only nine o'clock, and since I didn't feel like hanging around and listening to the women gossip, I decided to come back later. I made my way to the elevator, but instead of going upstairs, I stopped at Francine's door and knocked. It took a few minutes for her to answer, but when she did, she opened the door with a peach silk robe on. Her big breasts were damn near popping out, but she tried to tighten her robe to hide them.
“Can I come in?” I asked, already seeing the older man who was sitting in a kitchen chair behind her. I was known for popping up, and sometimes Francine would send me on my merry way, but sometimes she wouldn't. She invited me in, introducing me to one of her many sugar daddies, James. He tossed his head back, then looked at Francine.
“I guess this means I gotta go,” he said.
“No hard feelings, James. Prince called about an hour ago and said he'd be here. I didn't know you were stopping by. Had I known, I would've told you not to come.”
He stood, and without saying another word, Francine walked him to the door and he left. She closed the door, then picked up a cigarette that was already burning in an ashtray. “You gonna have to stop doing this shit, Prince. You be messing up my money, man, and James ain't one I want to keep dissin' like that.”
“My bad. I just stopped to see what you was up to. If I had known you had company, I would've kept it movin'.”
“That's what you always say,” she said, blowing smoke into the air. She came over to me, as I was already sitting back on the couch. “What's the matter? I can see the stress written all over your face.”
“No worries. Nothing that a good night's sleep can't cure.”
Francine put the cigarette out in the ashtray. She stood in front of me, then untied her robe so I could see just a sliver of her thickness. She rubbed her finger in the crevice between her breasts, then sucked her finger into her mouth. “Sleep ain't the only thing that can cure the worried look in a man's eyes. You know what else can, but you need to start doing me some favors too.”
I knew Francine was referring to me eating her pussy. I had never gone there with her, and she often complained. I wasn't feeling her like that, and even though the pussy was good, it was good for my dick, and not so much for my mouth. I rested my arms on top of the couch and leaned back. “Are you gon' start this shit with me again? I told you I don't get down like that, ma, didn't I?”
“That's what you say, but I know for a fact you be going down on Jenay. She ain't the kind of woman who would just settle for some dick, and with her, from what I hear, you gotta bring your A game. If you're bringing it with her, you need to be bringing it with me as well.”
“I do bring my A game, but you need to know that I don't go down on nobody like that,” I lied. Truth was, I had performed oral sex on Jenay, only because I liked having sex with her more than I did Francine. I just couldn't get to Jenay when I wanted to, because she was always busy with her other woman. I'd missed out the other night and hadn't heard from her since.
“I don't believe you, Prince, but next time, I'ma let James take care of me instead of you. This is some bullshit and you know it.”
I shrugged, not mad at all. And once Francine unzipped my pants and saw how hard my dick was, she wasn't too mad either. She dropped to her knees, and I scooted closer so she could serve me well. As she got busy with her hands and mouth, I reached out my hands to massage her thick breasts. Those suckers had to be filled with a bunch of milk, and were soft as ever. Her Milk Dudsâsized nipples were the only things hard, and the more I teased them, the harder they got. After a while, I reached down to dip my fingers inside of Francine's pussy. It was dripping wet. I could feel the creamy buildup already running down her legs. She was a nymphomaniac, but I loved every bit of it. That was, until she stopped sucking me and tried to maneuver us into a sixty-nine position on the couch.
“What did I tell you?” I asked with her pussy staring me right in the face.
“Come on, Prince. If I do you, what's the big deal with you doing me?”
I didn't want to mess up the mood by saying that the problem was she opened her legs to any nigga who desired to get in, but instead, I backed away from her. I stood up, stroking my own dick to keep it hard.
“Why you trippin'?” I asked in a polite manner. “You know I'ma make it good to you, and by the time I get finished, you won't be thinkin' about no oral sex.”
“I doubt that, but you go ahead and do you.”
I strapped on a condom, then got behind Francine as she was bent over on the couch. While pulling her hair back, I tore her insides up, causing her to tighten her fist and pound it on the couch.
“Fuuuuuk it, Prince! Daaaaamn this dick good as hell, nigga, fuck it!”
The more she talked, the faster I slammed into her. We started sweating and her ass had turned red from the beating I was putting on it. “Oh, shit, Prince! I'ma flood yo' ass with my juices. Here I come, damn it here I commmmmme!”
Francine's wetness was all over me. My semen had boiled over inside of the condom, and when I pulled out of Francine's pussy, my muscle went right into her mouth. She licked me clean while I lay back on the couch with my toes curled and my chest heaving.
“You know you got some good-ass stuff,” I complimented while trying to catch my breath.
“So good that you don't want to suck it though, right?”
I didn't bother to respond. I could tell that Francine and I were about to catch some problems with this oral sex shit, so I got up to make a move. It would be awhile before I came back to her again.
“You getting ready to go already?” she asked while watching me put on my clothes.
“Yeah, I need to go check on the laundromat and clean up my apartment. I know you gotta work this week, so I won't come holla at you again until the weekend.”
She put her hand on her hip. “You know that's lame as hell, Prince. You come over here whenever you feel like it, and trust me when I say that I don't mind. Just don't be catching no attitude with me about asking you for oral sex. Your sex be good too, but sometimes I be needing a little more action. It be all about you getting yours. You know that shit ain't fair.”
“I agree, and you'll be the first to know when I decide to get down like that. Don't take it personal. The only reason I suggested chillin' until next week was to give you some time to get that oral satisfaction from someone else. I'm sure you will, and I don't want to keep on interruptin'.”
“Whatever, Prince,” she said, walking me to the door. “I'm cooking some lasagna tomorrow, so I'll at least be up there to bring you some of that.”
“Sounds good to me. Holla.”
Sex with Francine had cleared my mind for a little while, but my thoughts turned back to Mama. Just for the hell of it, I called the phone at the house, but got no answer. Called her cell phone; it was still disconnected. I hurried to lock up at laundromat, then went back upstairs to my apartment. Every time I called on God for Him to answer my prayer, He didn't seem to come through for me. At least, not in a way that I wanted Him to, but what did I have to lose? I closed my eyes, praying for Mama's safe return. I knew that if she didn't show up soon, all hell would break loose and I could feel some heat coming my way.
Chapter Six
Man On A Mission ...
I was on a mission. And that mission was to find Mama. Everything inside of me said that something wasn't right, but I had not one piece to the puzzle. I had been stopping by her house two or three times a day, trying to see if she'd made her way home. I'd been following Raylo, but nothing he'd been doing was out of the ordinary. He was all about his women and hustling to make money. I didn't want him to catch wind of me following him around, but he was the only who I thought really knew where Mama was.
That was, until I went back to Mama's house and discovered a name, address, and phone number on a piece of paper that was tucked inside of a Greyhound Bus brochure in her dresser drawer. Several dates were written on the brochure, and it looked as if Mama may have checked out of here. I tucked the brochure in my pocket, then headed outside to my car. My cell phone was on the front seat, so I used it to dial the number that was on the piece of paper. I was surprised that someone actually answered.
“Monroe. Speak or forever hold your peace.”
Monroe was the name on the paper, so I asked if his last name was Jackson, as that was on there too.
“You got me. Who is this?”
“Prince Perkins. I'm lookin' for my mama, Shante. Is there any chance that she may be with you?”
He cleared his throat. “Who is this again? I know Shante, but she ain't told me shit about havin' a son. Is this a joke or what?”
“No joke; and I don't care what she's told you. I'm tellin' you that I'm her son. If she's there with you, can I speak to her, please?”
“She ain't here right now. She went to the store, but when she gets back, I'll let her know you called.”
“At the store, huh? How long has she been there with you and how long has she known you? I've never heard her mention your name before, and it seems odd that my mama would rush to Kansas City to hook up with you.”
“Listen, youngster, Shante is a grown-ass woman who does not need the permission of her young adult son to do somethin'. Just like she didn't tell me about you, I guess she didn't tell you about me. We've hooked up plenty of times before and whenever I make way to St. Louis, I stop in to get at her. Now as I said before, I will let her know you called. If she wants to return your call, she will. If not, you'll just have to wait until she gets home. We're havin' a pretty good darn time, though, so I don't think that phone call will come your way anytime soon.”
“One question: if my mama didn't tell you about me, then why would you refer to me as a youngster? I have your address on this piece of paper, so I'ma shoot your way to find out what's really up. Hopefully, my mama will be back from the store, and if not, we gon' have some problems.”
I hung up, feeling as if this was a bunch of bullshit. I figured Mama wouldn't be stupid enough to play these kinds of games with me, and mad at Raylo or not, something didn't seem right. At this point, I had nothing to lose and all that mattered was the truth. A ride to Kansas City would only take me three hours and when I punched Monroe's address into my GPS device, it showed that I could be there in exactly three hours and twenty-five minutes. With that, I slammed my door shut and headed to the gas station to fill up my tank. Still had to jet home to get a few things, but Kansas City here I come.
As I was pumping my gas, I could have sworn that I saw Raylo across the street with another person in the car. I squinted, trying to get a closer look, but the car quickly sped off. I stopped pumping the gas, just so I could get in my car and go follow them. I jetted down Lucas and Hunt, swerving in and out of traffic, trying to find the white Cadillac. I saw it stopped at a red light on Natural Bridge, but as soon as the light changed the car took off. The Cadillac was no match for my Camaro, but as I got closer to it I heard sirens. I looked in my rearview mirror, and sure enough, a police vehicle was behind me. I damn sure wanted to take off, but as I looked ahead of me, the Cadillac had gotten even farther away. I wondered what that was all about, but then again, I figured Raylo had been watching me as I'd been watching him. That made me even more suspicious about his ass, and I couldn't wait to find out what was up with him. First, I still had to make my way to Kansas City. I could only do so if the police officer who was approaching my car didn't have nothing on me. I lowered my window and looked up at him.
“Hello, Officer. Is there somethin' wrong?”
“Very wrong. You were speeding. Going as fast as you were, you put the lives of other motorists in danger. You're not wearing your seat belt and your license plates are due to expire tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow ain't here yet, so I still have one more day. As for the speedin' thing, I was tryin' to keep up with the flow of traffic. The seat belt ... My life, not yours.”
The black officer stared at me from behind his dark shades and cocked his neck from side to side. “Let me see your license, registration, and proof of insurance. And make sure I can see your hands at all times.”
I wanted to go off on his ass, but did my best to keep my cool. I gave him my license, registration, and a fake-ass insurance card that I had someone make up for me. No way in hell was I paying for no damn insurance, and if I ever crashed my car, I'd just buy me another one. If I hit somebody, they were just shit out of luck.
The officer walked back to his police vehicle, and I observed him through the rearview mirror. I wasn't sure if I had any warrants, or if I was wanted for any murders. All kinds of thoughts roamed in my head and I was so sure that I wouldn't make it to Kansas City to see about Mama. I tapped my sweaty fingers on the steering wheel, waiting and wondering what would ultimately happen. I could see the police officer on his walkie-talkie. He kept nodding his head, laughing, then looking at me. A few minutes later, another police car pulled up behind him. Now, anybody in their right mind knew that when two police cars came on the scene, some shit was about to go down. I wanted to take the fuck off, and as my heart rate increased, I sure as hell thought about doing so.
Instead, I waited. Both officers walked up to the car, and the one who had approached me before stepped up to the driver's side and reached for the handle.
“Jamal, step out of the car. Place your hands behind your head and make sure I can see them at all times.”
I sighed, not knowing what the fuck was up. “Am I being arrested? If so, for what?”
“There's a warrant out for your arrest. You have unpaid tickets in Velda City and have failed to take care of them.”
My faced scrunched. “What? Tickets? I ain't got no tickets, man.”
By this time, the officer snatched me out of the car and read me my rights. I guess I could be thankful that I was only being arrested for tickets, but I seriously didn't remember getting any. Niggas were known for using other people's name, but I didn't have time to find out who was behind this. My goal was to pay the tickets, allow them to release me, and get on my way to Kansas City.
The officer handcuffed me behind my back, then asked me to take a seat along the curb. The shit was so damn embarrassing. Many cars drove by, people slowing down, just to see what the hell was going on. My head was lowered, and I shook it as I watched the officers go through my vehicle trying to find something that wasn't there. I guess it disappointed them when they couldn't find anything. Not even my Glock that I was lucky not to have in my possession. I had thought about taking it to Kansas City with me, but hadn't stopped by my apartment to get it just yet. This was a relief, as timing was everything. If he had stopped me an hour from now, I would definitely be going to jail for a long-ass time.
One of the officers stood me up. “Why haven't you paid your tickets?” he asked.
I knew better than to tell him that I didn't recall getting any tickets, so I went with the flow. “I didn't have no money to pay for them.”
He reached in my fat pockets, pulling out a wad of money. “You may not have had money then to pay them, but you damn sure got money now. Where did you get all of this money from?”
I cocked my head back, starting to slowly but surely lose it. “I work. That's where I got it from.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“That ain't really yo' business. All you need to know is it's legal.”
“I don't think that slanging dope is legal. Maybe in your head it is, and I better not catch you on my streets slanging shit. If I do, there will be some serious repercussions.”
“I told you I wasn't slanging no dope. Every black man out here who got money ain't out here doin' illegal shit to get money. Many of us
do
work. A prime example would be you. You makin' money the legit way, ain't you? If you can do it, I can too. So, stop tryin' to find somethin' on me that ain't there. If you're goin' to lock me up for those tickets, do it. Let me pay my bail and let's be done with this.”
do
work. A prime example would be you. You makin' money the legit way, ain't you? If you can do it, I can too. So, stop tryin' to find somethin' on me that ain't there. If you're goin' to lock me up for those tickets, do it. Let me pay my bail and let's be done with this.”
The officer sucked his teeth, not liking my attitude at all. Thing was, as of right now, they had not a single thing on me but some unpaid tickets. He shoved me toward the police car, placing me in the back seat. The other officer called a towing service to tow my car, and all I could do was shake my head again. This shit was so goddamn ridiculous. It was all about making money and harassing people who had been subjected to this kind of foolishness for years. It took everything I had inside not to get my clown on with this officer, and for the most part, I remained calm, cool, and collected. That was until I got to the police station, and was told that my bail would be set at $1,000 and I had over $700 in tickets.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I said, standing in front of the fat-ass sheriff's desk.
He looked at me with his crusty lips pursed. “Do you got it or not? If not, all you get is one phone call and it better be made to somebody who got some money or else you'll be here until the judge shows up on Tuesday morning.”
I had about four grand rolled up in my pocket and when I inquired about it, the officer who arrested me claimed that there was only $2,000. He placed it on the counter in front of me. No doubt, my stack had become smaller.
“Y'all motherfuckas be killin' me. I know how much money I had and it damn sure wasn't no two grand,” I said.
He got up in my face, mean mugging me and spitting in it. “What you trying to say? Fool, I didn't take a dime of your money, so get your lies together. Punk!”
I took deep breaths, knowing that this could escalate into something I didn't want it to. I definitely didn't have time to be locked up in no jail cell for several days, so I changed my tune. “You're right,” I said, with my hands still cuffed behind my back. “Now I remember. I did only have two grand. That's enough to take care of my bail and for the tickets. Go ahead and process me so I can be released. And, uh, sorry for the mishap ... I was trippin'.”
Both the sheriff and the officer looked at each other and smirked. I was sure they would be somewhere eating dinner tonight or making it rain up in a strip joint with my money, but what the hell? This was a no-win situation and I knew that from the moment he pulled me over.
“Take him back to a cell until we're done processing him,” the sheriff said to the officer.
He reached for my arm, escorting me to a nearby holding cell that had a small, flat bed in the corner. The cell smelled like piss, and instead of sitting on the bed, I sat on the dirty concrete floor.
“Don't get too comfortable.” The officer laughed as he locked the cell.
“I assure you I won't,” I snapped. “Just hurry it the fuck up.”
He snickered, then walked away.
I hated the policeâlet me repeat ... hated them. There was nothing positive that I had ever seen about them and all they did was harass the black man. I figured that was part of their training session, and many of the motherfuckas around here did their jobs well. Nearly two hours later, the officer came back to my cell, telling me I was clear to go. He gave me some papers to sign, then handed me the $300 that was left of my money.
“Next time,” he said, handing me a business card. The card was from the tow yard that had my car. “Slow down and take care of your tickets. Think about a better career than selling drugs and watch your tongue, as it's liable to get you hurt and in more trouble.”
I headed toward the door, completely ignoring the officer. All I did was salute on my way out, and I had to wait for a taxi to come get me so I could go to the tow yard and pick up my car.
The taxi took about thirty minutes to get there, and another thirty minutes to get to the tow yard. The man behind the counter at the tow yard had an attitude, too, and this bullshit was seriously driving me crazy. I had to drop $150 just to get my car back. Like I said ... anything to rip off a black man and keep him down by taking his money. The entire system was fucked up and was designed so that niggas like me wouldn't get ahead.
Finally, my car was released to me and I headed home to get more money and my Glock. On the way out, I was stopped by Francine, who wanted to borrow some money. With all the pussy she was giving away, it was odd that she was broke.
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