Guard the Throne Page 9

  “I just know she better not get a better car than me, Pop,” Cane said.

  “Everybody, just shut the fuck up!” Curtis exclaimed, his voice booming through the room. “Y’all really are starting to act like some fuckin’ rugrats right now. Cane and Chris, y’all are not gettin’ no new car right now. Are y’all two serious? Earn your keep around here and stay focused on your education and business. Fuck a Beamer or a Benz! Ain’t y’all supposed to be men? A man doesn’t look for another man to buy him shit that he can get himself.”

  The boys took the tongue-lashing from their father quietly.

  Cane scowled. “We holdin’ shit down out there for you, Pop. Why you gotta treat us like we kids?”

  “You and your brother are men, Cane, so act like it. I don’t want my sons looking for a handout from anybody, even from me. Y’all go out there and get your own.”

  “And we are, Pop,” Chris replied.

  “I love y’all. But I’m not gonna always be around for y’all to do business under my wing. The wolves are out there and they’re fuckin’ ready to devour what y’all have, and they ain’t tryin’ to leave you with any scraps. You hear me, Chris and Cane?”

  His sons nodded.

  “You carry yourself out there with your heads up and stay sharp about the choices you make. Y’all hear me? We family, and you never turn your back on family. I don’t give a fuck what happens.”

  Citi’s eyes stayed glued to her father as he talked. The gleam in her eyes showed the love and admiration she always had for him.

  “Let me tell y’all somethin’. Y’all are my kids, and that carries much fuckin’ weight in the hood, but you don’t trust any muthafucka. Sometimes blood and friendship can fuck you over when it comes to money. Niggas is greedy and jealous out here of a nigga on a come-up, and believe me, those two ingredients can definitely get you pushed over the edge when a nigga gets to play you close enough.”

  Curtis started to have feelings that karma was gonna come for him soon and snatch him away violently like it did Alonzo and Juliette.

  After his stern speech, Curtis peeled off three grand from his huge wad of cash and gave his kids a grand apiece. “Spend that wisely,” he said to them.

  His children noticed the extra cash but didn’t question him about it.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” Citi said with a smile.

  Curtis turned to walk back into his bedroom, unable to shake that feeling of karma getting ready to take shots at him and knock him down on his ass. He assumed it was a long time coming, since he’d always escaped death and prison by the skin of his teeth.

  Chris stared at the stack of hundreds in his hand. He thought about an investment. He was ready to prove to his father that he could hold down the throne.

  Cane smiled and blurted out, “Shit, I’m goin’ fuckin’ shoppin’!”

  ****

  It was a cold, breezy afternoon as Curtis navigated his way through the Long Island streets in his gleaming Benz. Hempstead was almost a replica of Queens, with its sprawling homes, vacant lots, and rundown corners, not to mention bodegas, liquor stores, and churches lining the streets and boulevards. Cops did their steady patrol of the area, but the streets were too cold for the corner hustlers to be outside.

  Curtis steered his ride into the narrow driveway of a ranch-style home on a tree-lined street. He parked in the backyard and stepped out, expecting Shot to greet him in the backyard, where high fencing, thick shrubbery, and towering trees gave the men the privacy they needed.

  “My nigga, Curtis!” Shot yelled from the back door of the home.

  He had a broad smile and skin like tar. His braids made him appear young, even though he was reaching forty, and his height and weight made him look like he could be a linebacker for the New York Giants. He greeted Curtis with a strong bear hug and looked his longtime friend up and down.

  “Shot, it’s good to see you again,” Curtis replied.

  “Same ol’, Curtis. I see we both ain’t aging fast. Looking like you could still be a teenager yourself.”

  “What can I say? A good diet and some good pussy keeps me fit.”

  Shot laughed. “You still chase them young whores?”

  “Never chased the whores. The bitches chase me.”

  “And you ain’t got a problem letting them catch you either,” Shot replied, patting his friend on the shoulder.

  Curtis smiled. “Sometimes I can be an easy catch.”

  “I hear that. So what you got for me?”

  Curtis went to the trunk of his car and unlocked it. He opened it up and removed a small duffel bag. He went up to Shot and said, “I’ll feel better if we can continue this inside.”

  “Yeah, of course, let’s go inside. It’s fuckin’ brick out this bitch,” Shot replied.

  Curtis followed behind Shot into the stash house. It was furnished with leather couches and flat-screens, and high-end security cameras watched every area outside the place. Three teenage girls sat at the kitchen table in their underwear, packaging crack into small vials for street distribution.

  Curtis’ eyes lingered on one of the girls a little too long.

  Shot said to him, “Careful, Curtis. She’s only seventeen.”

  Curtis shook his head. “How you do it, man?”

  “What? You mean these young bitches in their underwear workin’ for me? Shit, I’m giving them a job. These bitches ain’t got anywhere to go. Before workin’ for me, they were out there broke, giving pussy away for free, and ain’t had a pot to piss in. Now, they’re making five hundred a week easily. Let’s just say, I’m like the Red Cross around this bitch.”

  Curtis stared at the pretty young seventeen-year-old in her pink panties and white bra. She reminded him of his own daughter. Curtis knew Shot was fucking the girls. Word on the streets was, Shot was also a part-time pimp. He got his money any way he could. But it wasn’t Curtis’ business. He followed Shot into the next room and placed the duffel bag on the table.

  Shot removed a cigar from his pocket and lit it. He took a few heavy pulls from it and looked at Curtis as he unzipped the bag and removed thirteen ki’s of hard white.

  “Nice.”

  “Give me ten thousand a ki, and we good,” Curtis said.

  “Ten stacks.” Shot took another pull from the cigar. “What’s the catch? Why you cheaper than the others right now?”

  “Ain’t no catch, Shot. I just need to unload some weight, giving it to you for a decent wholesale price right now.”

  “I see. But, listen, I can only take five ki’s off your hands right now.”

  “Only five?”

  “Yo, the game ain’t the same out there like it was years ago. Between the young boys fuckin’ it up and the snitches and the police on a nigga’s ass, I gotta slow things up for a moment.”

  Curtis was disappointed that Shot wasn’t taking it all from him, but he kept his poker face and nodded. “A’ight, I understand that.”

  “But if this is some quality shit, nigga, we gonna be in business for a long time.”

  Shot snapped his fingers at one of the young kids lingering around in the living room playing video games. “Yo, Mike, go get that for me.”

  The young boy jumped up and dashed into a neighboring room.

  Curtis had a small chitchat with his friend. Curtis’ nerves were on edge. He wanted to make the transaction quick. With the .45 tucked into his waistband, his eyes were on alert. Even though he and Shot were always cool with each other, he always followed the advice he gave his own children—You never know when a nigga will get greedy on you and set you up.

  The teenage kid came running out the room holding a small plastic bag filled with money. He handed it to Shot and went back to playing video games.

  Shot passed the plastic bag to Curtis, who peeked into the
bag, which was filled with five ten-thousand-dollar stacks—all hundreds.

  “We good?” Shot asked.

  “Yeah, we good.”

  Shot threw his arm around Curtis and embraced him closely. With the cigar clutched between his fingers and a smile on his face, he said to Curtis, “You know, if you wanna fuck one of them bitches in the kitchen, go ahead, nigga. They gonna be cool with it.”

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “You sure? You missin’ out on some of that golden pussy, my nigga, especially the one you was lookin’ at earlier. Her pussy is like ecstasy, Curtis . . . have you trippin’ in it.”

  “Nah, I got places to be,” Curtis replied dryly.

  “A’ight, business first. Gotta respect that.”

  Shot walked with Curtis outside. Before Curtis got into his ride, Shot said, “Yo, I’m sorry to hear about Alonzo, man. I knew y’all were close.”

  “The game is fucked up right now.”

  “Yeah, anybody can get got, if they got Alonzo. Damn!”

  Curtis didn’t want to speak about it any longer. He wanted to erase Alonzo’s murder from his mind, but no matter where he turned, people were always bringing it up.

  He had phone calls to make. He backed out of the driveway, and before he could turn the corner, he was back on his cell phone making calls to New Jersey. He knew of a crew out in Trenton that probably could take the rest of the drugs off his hands.

  9

  Citi and Dana strutted up Jamaica Avenue like divas. They turned heads with their tight jeans forming perfect bubbles in the back and their pretty faces glowing like the sun in the cold weather. The avenue was bustling with shoppers and traffic. The Easter holiday was approaching soon, and everyone wanted to take advantage of the discounts a few clothing stores were advertising and buy a few nice garments to show off when the spring weather finally touched down in the city.

  Citi had $1,500 cash and was ready to spend the majority of it on shoes, earrings, and a spring jacket. She wished she had more cash on her, because the shoes she had her mind set on were eight hundred dollars alone. The girls went in and out of stores on the avenue like a pinball game and racked up on shopping bags of pricey attire and laughing and flirting with a few cute boys. Most of the thugs and roughnecks instantly knew who Citi was, and they gave her much respect, knowing not to push up too hard on the urban princess. Her daddy had eyes and ears everywhere on the streets.

  The girls were lounging around the food court at the Coliseum and saw a few young hoods from their buildings. Dante, a young worker coming up under Maino’s crew and the alpha male of the group, locked eyes with Citi and smiled. Citi smiled back at Dante. His swag and apparel had Citi intrigued. At seventeen, he was tall and built like an athlete, styling long braids that coiled down to his shoulders and a long, icy chain around his neck. His skin was bronze, and his teeth were like a Colgate advertisement.

  The girls remained seated at their table and watched Dante and his crew stirring up attention from security in the building as they were loud and disorderly. They intimidated a few shoppers in the mall and acted like they owned the place.

  “Ain’t that ya boo?” Dana said, pointing to Dante.

  “He’s cute, right?”

  “You fuckin’ him yet?”

  Citi smiled. “No.”

  Dana laughed. “Your father would kick his ass.”

  “My father don’t know shit, and he ain’t gotta know shit. It’s my business. I’m grown.” Citi rolled her eyes at Dana.

  “Uh-huh. You know damn near all of these niggas on the streets are on his payroll.”

  “Dante’s different.”

  “You think?”

  Citi pushed Dana playfully and then turned her attention back to Dante. He was walking over with Booboo by his side. The young boys approached the ghetto princess with their sagging pants and a security about themselves.

  “Citi, what’s up, love?” Dante greeted with a smile.

  “Hey, Dante.” Citi smiled back.

  Dana stared up at Booboo, a handsome street thug with an aquiline nose, long cornrows, and steely look.

  “Ladies, y’all lookin’ so damn fine right now,” Booboo proclaimed.

  “We always lookin’ fine. Nothin’ less, but always at our best,” Citi replied, her eyes on Dante.

  “I feel you, ma. What y’all doin’?” Dante asked. “Shoppin’?”

  “I’m tryin’ to look good,” Citi said.

  “You ain’t gotta try, ma,” he returned.

  “Yo, y’all goin’ to the club tonight, right? I’m performing,” Booboo informed them.

  “I ain’t even know you rap, Booboo,” Dana said.

  “Shorty, I’m nice on the mic . . . gets it in on stage. Niggas out here ain’t fuckin’ wit’ me.”

  Dana and Citi smiled.

  “Yeah, he do his thang,” Dante added.

  “A’ight, we might come through tonight. If we ain’t busy,” Citi said, her eyes still focused on Dante.

  Booboo said, “Yo, we definitely wanna see y’all there. It’s gonna be poppin’ tonight, ya feel me?”

  “We feel you, Booboo.” Dana smiled.

  The girls continued to flirt with the young thugs, who didn’t have a problem showing how interested they were in the girls.

  Dante took a seat next to Citi and placed his arm around the back of her chair. They sat so close to each other, it looked like they were ready to kiss.

  Citi was ready to rape him with her tongue. His touch made her skin tingle with excitement. The only thing she could think of was his strong arms wrapped around her and his lips tasting and kissing every inch of her.

  “So, I’m gonna definitely see you tonight?” Dante asked her.

  “Of course.”

  He smiled.

  Booboo and Dana had no problem showing their affection in public. The two locked lips with each other as Dana sat on his lap with her arms around him.

  “Look at these fools,” Dante joked.

  “Get a room!” Citi said.

  Dana threw up her middle finger at Citi and Dante.

  The two couples exited the Coliseum together, with Citi feeling the need to hang out that night and get closer to Dante.

  ****

  Citi walked into her apartment to find Cane seated on the couch cleaning a TEC-9. Two .45 pistols and a Ruger P89 rested on the coffee table. Cane looked up at his little sister and smiled.

  “Where you get these guns from?”

  “I just bought them. Ain’t they sweet?” he replied, playing with the TEC-9 in his hands.

  Citi stared at the weapon in Cane’s hand. It was a scary piece to see up close. She could only imagine how many lives it had cut down.

  She cringed a little when he playfully pointed it at her. “Don’t point that shit at me!” she yelled at him.

  “Chill, sis. It ain’t loaded.”

  “I don’t care!”

  Cane shrugged her off and continued cleaning the gun. He looked like a kid with a new toy.

  “Where’s Daddy and Chris?” she asked him.

  “They ain’t here,” he replied, being short with her. His focus was more on his newly acquired gun than his little sister.

  Citi walked into her bedroom and shut the door. She wanted to get ready for tonight. She tossed her shopping bags on the bed and opened up her closet door to add to her stylish collection.

  She had a few hours till the club time, so she rolled up a joint, came out of her clothing, and listened to a few CDs before nightfall.

  ****

  Club Speed in Hollis, Queens was teeming with young revelers dancing and throwing their hands up to Lil’ Wayne’s track, “She Will.” The outsized club jumped from wall to wall with ballers and thugs, s
exily dressed ladies, and wannabes.

  Citi and Dana walked into the dim building like superstars. Citi was looking fabulous in her miniskirt and four-inch heels. The men marveled at her beauty and tried to get her attention, but she completely ignored them and looked around for Dante. But he was nowhere to be found in the dense atmosphere.

  The girls hit the bar and quickly had one of their admirers buy them a drink.

  Hips started to sway to the Jamaican tunes that blared throughout the club. Citi hit the dance floor with her drink in hand and her body oozing sex appeal for the niggas to drool and gaze at. She backed her ass up into the men that poised behind her, stimulating hard-ons that poked her.

  Dante and Booboo approached the girls shortly after their arrival. Dante grabbed Citi’s attention, taking hold of her thick hips from behind and grinding his pelvis into her, swaying with her.

  Citi turned to see who had grabbed hold of her waist in such an aggressive manner. She smiled and hugged him tightly. “I was lookin’ for you, boo,” she said.

  “I’m here now.”

  The two continued to dirty-dance like they had privacy, while Dana and Booboo hugged each other and locked lips on the dance floor.

  The night continued with the girls hugged up on their thugs in the back of the club, their entourage of goons close by. The girls got tipsy from drinking Grey Goose and smoking haze. They tried to keep the burning blunt from the eyes of security that walked around the club.

  The night was a success without any incident. Citi moved through the crowded club with Dante like the ghetto queen she was. This was what life was about for her, the life she lived, and the only life she knew how to live—partying, flaunting her father’s wealth, the clothes, and mingling with the thugs from her hood.

  ****

  The four of them exited the club after three a.m., jumping into Dante’s ’98 money-green Maxima that sat on polished chrome rims and tinted windows. Citi sat shotgun while Dana rode in the backseat, hugged up with Booboo. The night was still young, and the girls weren’t in any rush to go home.