URBAN: Chosen By A Kingpin (15 page)

“My parents are buried here. I want to stay here.” She turned back. They were now burying the bodies. “I want to stay close to my parents.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” The window started to roll up but she knocked on it again.

“I just wanted to say thank you. I know that you’re my father’s lawyer and not mine, but thank you.”

After the news of his death hit North Carolina Enzo’s lawyer flew down to New York. He brought down their will. It read that Giselle would inherit all the money that her father left behind when she reached the age of 18. Unfortunately, they didn’t have clause in case the parents died before she turned 18. The lawyer was trying his best to locate family, but his client always told him that he didn’t have much of a family or any. And with the retainer finishing up, he was running out of funds to locate them. He saw the desperation in Giselle’s eyes. He knew the least he could do for her was fight to keep her in NYC. Sadly, she’d be part of the foster system until she was 18, but it was the only option so far.

“I’m going to try my best to keep you here. You have to understand that you’d be part of the foster system. New York City is nothing like North Carolina.”

“I don’t care.” She sobbed. “It’s only going to be a little while. I’ll be 18 soon.”

“I thought you were 16.”

“Today is my birthday.” Tears streamed down her face some more. “I just need to be by my family. My family is here in New York City. I can do it. It won't be that bad.”

“Defense! I need you to play with some defense.” Lionel Taylor screamed at the TV. The Chicago Bulls were playing his beloved New York Knicks. They were down by ten points and he was going crazy. He’d always been a sports fanatic. He got it from his uncle. His Uncle used to work security at Madison Square Garden. Whenever he could, he would bring Lionel to a basketball game. Sometimes he would sneak him into the back to meet some of the players. It was some of the best times of Lionel’s life, but then he turned 11 and everything changed.

Lionel was in middle school with his best friend Antwon Jordan. They were sitting in the back of their Spanish class staring at their teacher. They were full of hormones as they watched her write on the board.

“Okay class the next verb that I’m going to teach you is trabajar. Can you guys say trabajar?” She asked the young students.

“Trabajar!” They shouted back at her.

“Good. And does anyone know what it means?” She walked back and forth of the classroom.

“It means “work” Jeffrey Escobar answered.

“Oh that’s not fair.” Antwon whined. “Of course he’s going to know the answer to that question. He’s Spanish, that’s cheating.”

“It doesn’t matter.” She ran her hand over Antwon’s head. “He’s right. It means work.”

Her voice faded to the background. Lionel scoped her curly black hair, curvy figure, and fair face. He poked his friend with his elbow.

“Damn, she is BAD.” Lionel whispered.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Antwon leaned towards him.

“You should drop your pencil.”

“What?” Antwon looked at him like he was crazy. “Why would I drop my pencil?”

“Just do it.” Lionel urged.

“I don’t get it.” He whispered but Lionel just pushed his pencil on the floor.

“Ms. Cabrera?” Lionel raised his hand. “Antwon dropped his pencil. May you please get it for him.?”

Ms. Cabrera sighed. She walked over to her two troublemakers.

“What am I going to do with you two boys?” She had her hands on her hips. “When you’re not throwing school supplies, you guys are back here talking and cracking jokes.” She crossed her arms across her chest. Lionel licked his lips slightly as he saw how big her chest was. He could just imagine his head laying against that huge chest.

“I’m sorry Ms. C. I would normally go and get the pencil, but you said the other day that we had to stay in our seats.” He smiled and looked at Antwon. Antwon just nodded his head not knowing where he was going with this.

“Fine, here.” She bent over and in her low cut shirt both boys got an eyeful of her cleavage. She placed the pencil on the desk and the boys just exchanged knowing looks.

The bell rang and the boys bolted off.

“I can’t wait to grow up and get with Ms. Cabrera.” Antwon took one last look at their Spanish teacher. ‘She’s going to be begging to get with this.”

“Please, you can’t get with Ms. Cabrera, she’s practically my wife.” He playfully pushed Antwon. “Plus you can’t even drop a pencil for her, how do you see her being with you?”

“Whatever man. So you coming over tonight or what? I know how much you hate being home alone when your mom works nights.”

“One, I’m never home alone because my Uncle crashes at my crib on those nights. Secondly, I’m not in the mood.”

“Why not?”

“Every time I’m at your house, your brother is there with some chick.”

“Don’t be mad at my older brother having some game.”

“Game? You call sloppy bitches with ugly weave game? C’mon son, nobody should be bragging about those chicks and talking about some game.”

“Whatever.”

It was their lunch period and they spent it arguing as young men did. Who would win in a fight? How many girls could they get? When are the Knicks going to win a championship? Just the simple questions young boys asked one another. The bell rang and the boys made their way in the hallway.

“So where to now? What we got? English? Math? I never remember the schedule.” Lionel complained.

“We got math with Mr. Borno.” Antwon reminded.

“I really don’t want to go.” He whined.

“Lionel Taylor report to the main office.” The intercom announced.

“Damn, son you mad lucky. Catch you later?” Antwon and Lionel exchanged hands and parted ways.

Lionel walked to the main office wondering what it could be. He thought of all the pranks he’d pull recently. He attached a sign on the back of one of the teachers, but they found out about that. He tagged up the bathroom walls but nobody ever got in trouble for that. Just then his eyes opened wide. He finally remembered. Yesterday he pulled the fire alarm. He was sure that no one saw him, but maybe he was wrong. He was praying they didn’t call his mother, Yvette.

Yvette Carlton was his tough love mother. She had him when she was only 20 years old. It was after one night of heavy drinking and calling an old flame. All she remembered from that night was knocking on his door and that is it. Two months later she was throwing up and seven months after that, she was giving birth. With the help of her brother Maxwell, she went to school and became a nurse. Sometimes being a nurse meant that she worked crazy shifts. So there were times that Lionel found himself home alone during the day and with his Uncle at night. She was caring but she didn’t mind putting a foot up Lionel’s ass if he needed. He knew that if the school called his mother and she had to come home from work, that he would have a sensible yet stylish nurse’s shoes up his ass.

As he walked in the office, he saw Ms. Cabrera and his homeroom teacher Mr. Raymond. When they both saw him, they looked to the principal.

“Mr. Taylor, may you please have a seat.” His principal brought him into his office. He walked slowly behind him with his shoulders slumped. He could feel the tension in the air. Something was wrong. Perhaps there was a witness to him pulling the fire alarm. “Your mother is on her way here.”

“Why?” He looked around. The two teachers were avoiding eye contact. “I didn’t do anything wrong.” He was going to deny until they provided some sort of evidence.

“We’ve received some news and we’ve been told to tell you before your mother gets here.” He took a deep breath in. “I don’t know how to tell you this but your Uncle is dead.”

The principal was still speaking but Lionel clocked out. He didn’t hear a word after he was informed that his Uncle was dead. Surely there had been a mistake. His Uncle was a cautious man; a healthy man. He went running every morning in Prospect Park; so he was in great shape. He had many friends; you can find no one to say something negative about him. He didn’t have any enemies. No, they have the wrong guy, Lionel thought.

“Did you say that my Uncle is dead. My Uncle? Maxell Carlton?” His eyes welled up. Ms Cabrera kneeled next to him.

“I’m so sorry.” She apologize rubbing his back.

“Yes, I’m sorry as well.” His homeroom teacher spoke up. “If there’s anything that you need from me Lionel, I’m here.”

“My Uncle is dead.” He repeated it back to himself. “He’s dead.” The tears started slowly but surely.

“I’m sorry.” Ms. Cabrera told him again and this time embraced him in a hug.

As his head laid against her breasts, Lionel couldn’t help but think of how different everything was. Just a couple of hours ago, he was wondering how it would feel to be against her chest. Now that he was there, it was nothing like he imagined.

But that was then. It was nearly nine years after the death of his Uncle. Lionel tries his hardest to forget his Uncle, but every time he got carried away with sports, it always brought him back to that day. One minute he was cheering for his beloved Knicks and the next he was back to that main office. He tried to shake out the memory as he watched the game.

“Must you yell at the TV?” Renee asked him as she plopped next to him. “I’m in the kitchen and all I hear is you bitchin’ at some ball players. It’s just a game Leo.” She rolled her eyes.

“Just a game?” He scoffed. “You’ll never understand.”

“No because I don’t get worked up about silly shit like that.”

“Oh you don’t? So the Real Housewives and their drama is okay?”

“Shut up.” She pushed him.

“Yeah I thought so.” He ate a handful of chips. “I think that whole reality TV crap is bullshit, but you don’t see me complaining.”

“Shut up.”

“You’re going to learn to stop telling me to shut up in my apartment.”

“Your apartment? Boy, bye! This is your mama crib! And you don’t pay bills or rent so don’t try that angle with me.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

He started kissing her and grabbed her body on top of his. She straddled him and took off her shirt. When he saw her breasts sitting in a lace bra, he smiled. He looked at this 5’5, cocoa brown beauty with her short pixie haircut and her model face. They met in front of a club. He walked past her while she waited in line. He walked back and smiled at her. She tilted her head and scanned him up and down. He was 6’2, with a low cut fade, and beautiful smile. She usually never went for guys she met in the club, but there was something about him. So she gave him her number and the rest is history. She was trying to get him to commit to something, but every time she brought it up, he dismissed it. He would just say why would they complicate things?

He brought his mouth to her breast. He licked the nipple and slightly bit it softly. She moaned and rolled her hips. She felt him get more erect beneath her. He slid her skirt up and moved her underwear to the side. He pulled down his pants and his boxers. He entered her and looked at her face. She bit her lip and rolled her hips. He leaned back and enjoyed her pace. She was now moving up and down on him. When he grunted, she slowed down and rolled her hips again.

“Keep going like that.” He groaned as she bounced up and down. He grabbed her hips and helped her along. She started yelling and put her hands on his chest.

“Slow down baby.”

“I’m almost there.”

“But I’m not.” She told him but he kept moving her along.

“Then you better catch up.” He warned her because he could feel it coming on. The tingling feeling started at his knees.

“Just slow down.” But when he grunted and sighed, she knew it was over.

“Fuckin’ bullshit!” She huffed climbing off of him. “You do this every time!” She started to fix herself up. “Every time we fuck, you cum first and I don’t!” She threw her hair into a ponytail.

“It’s not that serious.”

“Yes it is! You’re so fucking selfish, everything is all about you. I’d like for things to be about me for once. What about me?”

“Damn girl, why you gotta be so over-fucking-dramatic!” He stood up fixing his pants.

“I don’t know Leo, why do you got to be such an asshole? Would it kill you to try to get me off?”

“This…” He shrugged his shoulders.

“What? Are you afraid that you can’t last that long?”

“Watch your mouth bitch.” He snapped.

“Ooh! Did I hit a nerve?” She walked to the door.

“Nah, you didn’t hit a nerve.” He scoffed.

“Whatever one minute man.” She walked out of the apartment.

“Bitch, the only reason I nut so fast is because I wish you had some walls for me to feel. No wall, deep pussy bitch!” He cursed her out.

His insults echoed in the hallway. The people that were out there stared and started laughing. He glared at them and they turned around. He was just about to go inside when he saw a woman staring at him. She was 5’6 caramel, curvy, with beautiful hazel eyes. Her long black hair was in wavy tresses that framed her face. She was lugging in some suitcases.

“Hey.” He leaned against his door frame. “You moving in?”

“Yeah.” She whispered. Although she spoke softly, he could detect an accent.

“Where are you from?”

“North Carolina.”

“Oh wow, that’s what’s up.” He looked her up and down. “Where are you moving to? What’s your apartment number?”

“I don’t know.” She fished into her pocket and pulled a piece of paper. “Umm B23? Am I on the right side? I saw that the building split into two side and I was afraid I came in the wrong one.”

“No you’re on the right side. In fact B23 is just right over there across from the elevators.” He pointed out to her.

“Okay.”

“Wait a minute.” He stopped her while she was walking away. “You’re one of the foster kids?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Everyone knows about Ms. Rita.” He sighed.

Ms. Rita was a woman that sadly abused the government system. She figured that if she had a lot of foster children that the government would give her some great cutbacks. So on top of the money she received for every child, she was on the food stamp program, cash assistance program, and also rental assistance. She also applied for disability claiming that she was too injured to work, even though that wasn’t true. She loved getting all the money and if she spent it on the children, it would have been fine. But the whole building knew she had a nasty drug and alcohol habit to go with the bad attitude she had.