Eve (12 page)

Cassidy abruptly pulled herself away from his skillful mouth, causing a wet sucking noise. Butter rose to pull her back down, but she put her hand against his chest and shook her head. She leaned in and began kissing her juice from his mouth, then worked her way south. Pulling his nine-inch penis from his boxers, Cassidy one-hand massaged him. Then she dipped her head beneath his balls and started licking in a circular motion. Butter panted and stroked the back of her neck in anticipation.

Once he was good and swollen, Cassidy put the head in her mouth. Butter's eyes began to flutter as the heat radiated from below his waist to the rest of his body. She licked around the rim of his dick with the tip of her tongue while massaging his balls with her free hand. Then she got into it and started to bob up and down on his dick, each time taking a little more into her throat. Butter could've sworn he was going to black out when she took the whole thing.

From the way his body trembled and his dick was getting even harder, she knew he was about to pop. But she wasn't ready yet. She pulled back and gripped the head of his penis roughly. Reaching beneath the couch cushion, Cassidy produced a Magnum. Butter always kept a stash nearby. After using her teeth to rip open the wrapper, she used her mouth to roll it on him. When she deemed it moist enough, she mounted him. The heat from Cassidy's mouth was nothing compared to the inferno that was her pussy. She ground on him slowly at first, then began to buck wildly.

Butter's eyes rolled back in his head as she took him to the moon and back. He grabbed her about the waist so tight that she knew his hands would leave a bruise. It would be well worth it when he set that paper out. Opening her eyes to admire her handywork, she noticed Butter's face had twisted into a hideous mask.
Oh, no, the fuck he ain't,
she thought to herself. Becoming stiff as a board, Butter exploded into the condom. He bucked a few more times, then his body went limp. But his dick was still hard and Cassidy had every intention on getting hers. She continued to ride his dick until she had pleased herself twice more. Once satisfied, she lay against his heaving chest and joined him in peaceful slumber.

Eve was up and out early the next morning. She was never one to sleep late, but today she had added motivation. It would be her first meeting with her parole officer. Eve removed the necessary documents from her duffel bag and placed them into a black Coach purse. Normally she didn't bother with them, but she had to present certain documents to her PO and didn't want to risk losing them. She dressed in a pair of tight-fitting blue jeans and a form-fitting black T-shirt that made her red hair and blue-green eyes stand out. It was a nice day, but there was a slight chill in the air. This suited her fine, because she had slight hangover from the night before. Before she went away, Eve had been able to hold her liquor just as well as any guy from the crew, but after being sober for so long, she had the tolerance of a novice. She welcomed the cool breeze against her face.

The block was relatively empty, considering it was nine in the morning. The only people on the streets were the working class and the hustlers serving the fiends their morning wake-up. Eve ignored the youngsters making their transactions and kept stepping. The faces might have changed, but the routine was still the same.

She still had some time before she had to be downtown, so Eve stopped in the corner bodega on 124th and 7th to get something in her system. Her stomach told her that she was starving, but her common sense told her to eat light. The last thing she needed was to be on the train and catch a bad case of the shits. She decided to get a bagel and some orange juice to hold her until she came back up top. When she got to the counter, she was greeted by the store owner.

“Is that little Eve?” he asked, giving her a yellowing smile.

“What up, ahck?” she said, giving him dap.

“Haven't seen you in a while.”

“I've been away. Had to take a little vacation.” She shrugged, placing her wrists together to mimic being cuffed.

“You were locked down?” he said, genuinely concerned. Mohammad was one of the coolest store owners in Harlem. The whole hood might not have had love for him, but they respected him. He was good to the people he serviced. If you were tight with him, he had no problem giving out store credit or stashing your package, but if you crossed him, he had no problem touching you. On more than one occasion, Eve had witnessed Mohammad and his brothers locking some unsuspecting loudmouth in the store and putting the smack down.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “but I'm home now.”

“Praise Allah,” he said, giving her a warm smile. “How's your friend, Cassidy?”

“She's cool.”

“Tell her to come by and see me.” Mohammad had a thing for Cassidy longer than Butter did. He was always giving her free goods and trying to holla, but Cassidy wasn't interested. It's not that she had anything against him, but he wasn't the most attractive cat. Mohammad was short, with funny-shaped ears, and was going bald on the top.

“A'ight, ahck.” Eve reached into her pocket to pay for her breakfast, but he stopped her short.

“Don't insult me, Eve. You're just coming home, so it's on me. You just make sure you stay out of trouble. Okay?”

“Sure thing. Later, Mo.” Eve gave him dap and left the store. She strolled farther north and cut across 125th. The business owners were just opening their shops or standing around, swapping the latest gossip. Opposite the stores were the book vendors. These had to be some of the hardest working cats on two-fifth. Rain, sleet, or snow, they were out there with their tables. Eve stopped at one of the tables to purchase a book. She enjoyed reading on the train as opposed to sleeping or sitting around looking stupid.

A book called
Hoodlum
caught her eye, so she picked it up to read the synopsis. When she saw that it was written by K'wan, she purchased it. He was one of her favorite authors and you couldn't go wrong with one of his novels. With the novel tucked in her purse, she continued her trek to the A train.

As Eve rounded the corner of St. Nicholas, a familiar face caught her eye. The girl was about five-four with a curvaceous body. Her leather miniskirt bareley covered her shapely ass. She stood, wide legged in her thigh-high boots, talking to one of the cab drivers. Her hair was cut a little shorter, but Eve recognized the face.

“Jasmine?” Eve called out.

Jasmine turned around, eyes wide with shock. She thought it might've been her mother, or someone who knew her family, so she was prepared to take off running. When she recognized Eve, the fear gave way to a warm smile. “Eve!” she squealed. “What's up, girl?”

“Chilling.” Eve leaned in and hugged her. “What you doing out here?”

“Trying to live,” Jasmine responded, trying to look like she wasn't embarrassed that Eve had caught her. Jasmine was one of the junior members of Twenty-Gang. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, but she had the body of a full-grown woman. When Eve left, Jasmine was just another little girl, trying to find out where she belonged in the world. Apparently she had. Her search for acceptance landed her on the hoe stroll.

“Trying to live, huh?” Eve twisted her lips. “What are you really doing out here? I know you ain't doing what I think you're doing.”

“Come on, Eve. Don't start. I'm just trying to get my weight up,” Jasmine whined.

“Looks like you're doing a little more than trying to get your weight up. What're you doing out here with these hard-luck muthafuckas?”

“If they spending, I'm winning,” Jasmine said, trying to make a joke out of the situation.

“Jasmine, don't play with me,” Eve said in a deadly tone. “You ain't nothing but a baby, and you're out here selling your ass?”

“Come on, baby,” the cab driver yelled out the window, “you getting in or what?”

“Hell no, she ain't getting in,” Eve said, walking over to the cab.

“You're pretty,” the cab driver said, licking his lips. “No need to hate, baby. I got enough money to take the both of you on.”

“What you working with?” Eve asked, formulating a plan in her head. She cocked her hip, leaned down into the passenger side window, and gave him a cold smile. He was mesmerized by her ocean-like eyes and toasted skin. The cab driver pulled out a wad of bills, which Eve leaned in and snatched. “Let me let you in on a secret. That girl you're trying to pick up is a baby. As in: not legal. I just saved your stupid ass from a charge.”

He looked stunned, then angry. “You stupid bitch! You're trying to get me locked up. Get away!” the driver shouted angrily at Jasmine.

“Eve!” Jasmine barked.

“What? You feeling bold?” Eve asked, folding her arms over her chest.

Jasmine, realizing who she was talking to, toned her voice down. “You're taking money out of my pocket.”

“I'm trying to save your life. Your lil ass ain't got no business out here. You're gonna fuck around and make the headlines. Does your mother know you're out here?”

“No,” Jasmine said, looking at her boots. “I ran away.”

“Why did you do a fool thing like that?”

“Her boyfriend. About six months ago, Mom started dating this guy from a Hundred and Thirty-first. The old dude that hangs out by the supermarket. Wears a patch over his eye.”

“I know who you mean,” Eve said, searching through her mind. “What about him?”

“Well, about two weeks into the relationship, he starts staying with us. He throws moms a few dollars from his SSI check once a month, so she's loving this nigga. Well, he started coming on to me. It was real subtle at first, but after subtlety doesn't work, he gets on his gorilla shit. I woke up one day and found him standing over my bed touching himself.”

“That's some sick shit,” Eve said, heated. “Did you tell your mom about it?”

“I told her,” she sniffled, “but he said that it was the other way around and I tried to come on to him. Naturally, she believed him. She starts calling me all kinds of whores and cursing me out over this nigga. That night I packed my shit and got in the wind. I've been staying from place to place and trying to turn tricks, just so I wouldn't starve out here. I didn't know what else to do, Eve.”

Eve could feel the rage mounting inside her. Jasmine was barely more than a child. The thought of a grown-ass man trying her like that caused Eve's blood to boil. “Check it,” Eve said, handing Jasmine the cab driver's bankroll. “Go get yourself a room somewhere. Take a shower and put on some respectable clothes. I'm gonna handle this for you.”

“Eve, I don't want you going back to jail over this,” Jasmine pleaded.

“Quit talking crazy.” Eve stroked her cheek. “Twenty-Gang takes care of their own.”

“But Eve—”

“Just do like I told you, Jasmine. Meet me on the block at about eight-thirty and this shit is gonna get handled.” Eve hugged Jasmine and escorted her to another cab.

“Hey,” the first cab driver said, hopping out of his ride, “what about my money?”

“You mean
my
money, chump.” Eve glared at him. “You're out here trying to have sex with minors. That's illegal in this country, and a capital crime when it's one of my peoples. Now, you got three choices. One, you try for this money and I end up beating the hell out of you. Two, I could report you for this and cause a big stink. Three, you get the fuck out of here and take it as a learning experience.”

The cab driver sized Eve up and thought about it. He easily outweighed her, but something in Eve's eyes screamed trouble. If she did report him to the police, they would find out that he was in the country illegally, and that would be a bad thing. He decided to leave the situation alone. The driver flipped Eve the finger and sped off in his cab.

Eve stood there and waited until Jasmine was safely away before she descended into the train station. She was prepared to do battle with the cab driver, but she was glad that she didn't have to. It seemed that the hood was full of surprises since last she came through. Felon and Butter were top dawgz and little Jasmine was selling ass. Eve had her work cut out for her. No matter what, though, Evelyn Panelli was home and everyone was going to know it.

Cassidy leaned against Butter's Lexus, cleaning her nails. She had been waiting for him for a whole five minutes and was beginning to get impatient. He could be insensitive at times. Cassidy had things she needed to do. Her hair appointment was at twelve, then she had to go all the way down to Ninety-sixth Street to get her feet done up. After all this was done, she had to check on her girls to see what was going on that night.

Butter came bopping out of the building, wearing sky blue jeans and a pair of blue and white Jordans. His wife beater was slightly visible beneath his crispy white T. He smiled broadly at Cassidy, but she turned her head.

“Why you acting like that, ma?” Butter asked, hopping down the last two steps of the stoop.

“You had me out here all morning.” She snaked her neck.

“You need to stop lying.” He sucked his teeth. “You only been out here a few minutes. I'm doing you a favor, so you need to cool out wit yo stank ass!”

“Nigga, don't come out here acting like I need them lil ones you setting out. If you feel like that, I can get the money from somewhere else,” Cassidy challenged.

“Cassidy, you need to get off that shit. I keep telling you, I'm all you need, baby. Why you keep fucking wit them sucka-ass niggaz like that?”

“Butter.” She looked him up and down, “I ain't ya girl.”

“That's my point. Cassidy, I'm trying to make an honest woman out of you.”

“Honest?” She folded her arms. “Nigga, please. You wouldn't know honest if it slapped you in the face. Butter, you always talking about wife'n somebody. Let me ask you this; how you gonna wife me, wit all the little chicken-head bitches you deal with?”

“Cassidy, them girls don't mean nothing to me. I mean, they're fun, but it doesn't really get deeper than that. I want somebody I can grow with. I want you, ma.”

Cassidy tried her hardest to hide her smile from Butter. He was so cute when he was pleading. She didn't put him through the motions because she was mean. She was just showing him what it felt like to walk in a woman's shoes. She couldn't even count how many of her girls swooned and acted crazy over some dick. This wasn't just limited to her click, but women all over the world. Cassidy wanted to show Butter just how powerful the pussy was.

“Butter.” She smiled warmly, “you're a sweetheart, really. But you know how I feel about my freedom. I ain't ready for no man just yet. But when I am, you'll be the first to know.”

Butter just looked at her. He was good enough to keep her pockets stuffed and let her ride around in his whip, but he couldn't get Cassidy to commit. He had dozens of women throwing themselves at him, but his nose was open for Cassidy. It was times like those when he wondered why he even bothered.

“Come on, boo,” she said, running her hand from his chest to his crotch, “don't feel funny about it. I'm just trying to focus on me right now.”

As Cassidy massaged his crotch, he remembered just why he bothered with her. Butter's heart melted under Cassidy's touch. He reached into his pocket and broke her off, just like he knew he would. No sooner had he laid the money in her palm than Felon came walking out of the building.

“Trick-ass nigga,” Felon remarked, passing the couple.

“Don't hate,” Cassidy said, kissing Butter on the cheek.

“Whatever,” Felon said, scanning the block. His gaze stopped on a white Benz coasting up the block. Felon's hand immediately went to the Glock that he had tucked in his belt. He looked to see if Butter was on point, but his partner was already moving to his side with his gun drawn. As the car got closer, they both breathed a sigh of relief.

The Benz pulled up to the curb where the duo was standing. A Black man, appearing to be in his late twenties to early thirties, climbed out of the driver's side. He nodded to Felon, then to Butter. They knew the man as Big Steve. Steve was about six-five, with a massive chest and a stone jaw. He was loyal to his employer and merciless to his enemies. Steve walked to the rear of the car and held the door open for Carlo.

Carlo stepped out of the car, wearing a powder-blue linen suit. The shirt was unbuttoned at the top, exposing a platinum choker. He ran a bony hand over his smooth jaw and sized the two men up. Butter hated when Carlo glared at them. Carlo's pale blue eyes always gave him the chills. The man stepped to the curb and nodded to Felon.

Felon nodded. “Carlo, what da deal?”

“Chilling,” Carlo responded. “Just came through to see how you boys were doing. Been a while since I've seen you.”

“Everything is everything. Just holding down the block, kid.”

“I'll never understand you guys.” Carlo smirked. “All the money you pull in and you can't seem to steer clear of these corners.”

“This is where the action is,” Butter said. “Gotta be in the streets to know what's going on.”

Carlo glanced at Butter, then turned his attention back to Felon. “This guy.” Carlo chuckled. “You need to help your boy broaden his horizons.”

“Butter is fine the way he is,” Felon said, keeping his tone even but his glare cold.

“If you say so. And who is this?” Carlo asked, looking at Cassidy.

“She was just leaving,” Butter said, blocking Carlo's view.

Carlo eyed the shapely girl and licked his lips. Even though he was Italian, he had a serious thing for Black girls. He undressed Cassidy with his eyes and she did the same to him. She allowed Butter to escort her back to the car, but not before giving Carlo one last look. She knew money when she smelled it.

“Walk with me,” Carlo said, walking down the block. Felon looked over at Butter, then took up a pace next to Carlo. “What's new in the streets?”

“Shit is shit.” Felon shrugged. “Money is rolling in, same as always.”

“Heard through the grapevine that you guys had a little problem up here? Somebody's sticking their hand in the cookie jar?”

“Where'd you hear that, Carlo?”

“Hey, people talk and I listen.”

“Well, you've been misinformed,” Felon lied. “No problems here.”

“See that it stays that way,” Carlo said in a commanding tone.

Felon looked at the thin man standing next to him and all he could do was chuckle. Carlo was a smug little bastard. He thought because his grandfather had a seat on the commission he had a right to talk to people like shit. He usually didn't mean anything by it. He was just an asshole by nature. Felon hardly took Carlo seriously, but Butter couldn't stand him. He often fantasized about killing Carlo, but Felon wouldn't let him. For one thing, it would bring mob heat down on them. For another, they were getting major paper through Carlo's people. Felon liked things the way they were. Profitable.

“Got some new shit coming in,” Carlo said, lighting his Marlboro. “High-grade shit. You guys think you can handle it?”

Felon chuckled. “Carlo, that's a dumb-ass question. We can sell anything you put in the hood. When and where?”

“First shipment comes in tomorrow night. They'll be some people there waiting for you. You go in, switch cars, and leave. I'm gonna have Steve and one of my people ride with you.”

“Why the extra security?” Felon asked. “Me and Butter usually do the pickups on our own.”

“This ain't a regular pickup, pal. This is the
real
deal. We just got a hookup with these guys in Colombia. This shit has never been sold in the states.”

“That sounds like some serious shit,” Felon said, calculating the money they would make. “Is it that good?”

“Is it good?” Carlo asked, as if he couldn't believe Felon was questioning him on it. “Let me tell you a story. About a week ago, we get a key of this shit to sample. The guy we used gets a free high and a few dollars in his pocket, but he got greedy. Decides he wants to skim a little for himself. The thing is, this guy doesn't know what he's lifting is a hundred percent pure. To make a long story short, we found him three days later. We had one of our doctors check him out. Seems his brain had swollen up and started bleeding.”

“Damn,” Felon sighed.

“Now you see why we don't want anything to go wrong. Felon, once we put this on the streets, we're gonna lock shit down. We can all get rich off this!”

Felon nodded his approval. The shit they had out was good, but it was only a few steps above what the competition was doing. They were holding the block down, but they needed to step their game up if they wanted to really get it popping. Felon looked at Carlo, who was smiling devilishly. It was as if those cold-ass eyes could read his mind.

 

“Fuck that nigga talking about?” Butter asked, watching the tail-lights of the Benz fade away.

“My nigga,” Felon said, smiling at Butter, “that cracker is about to make us rich.”

“Fuck is you talking about, fam?”

“Let him tell it, we've got some shit coming in that's gonna shut the rest of the muthafuckas down.”

Butter sucked his teeth. “You believe that shit?”

“He hasn't steered us wrong so far.”

“Felon, I don't know why you be acting like that honkey is so fucking cool. You know he don't give a fuck about us.”

“Yeah, but we're making good money together,” Felon pointed out. “Fuck him,” Butter spat. “We don't need that muthafucka. Acting all high and mighty cause his peoples is in the mob. Fuck all them dago muthafuckas. Let that white boy fuck around and old granddad might get an anonymous phone call. Shit, if they knew he was slinging drugs they'd probably kill him for me.”

“What are you, fucking stupid?” Felon glared at him. “Butter, if them Sicilians get wind that we're helping him move this shit, they're gonna clip us all. You need to watch what you say outta your mouth.”

“What you acting all paranoid for? It's just me and you talking.”

“Butter, I don't even want you thinking that shit. You'll fuck around and get drunk and say it in front of the wrong niggaz. Shit, let me see a few million first before someone puts a bullet in my head. You hear what I'm saying to you, partner?”

“Yeah,” Butter grunted, “I hear you. Look, all I'm saying is that nigga ain't got as much say-so as he thinks. He ain't really doing shit that we can't do ourselves.”

“True, but he serves his purpose. Just like he uses us, we use him. Fair exchange isn't robbery. Shit, did you forget who helped us take over in the first place?”

Felon had a point. Before them, Carlo had been doing business with Macho. Macho had made quite a bit of money for Carlo, but the Dominican became lax. Carlo caught wind of Butter and Felon's little scheme before they could pull the caper off, but instead of turning them in, he decided it would be more profitable to aid them. The night Macho was murdered, Macho had been sitting in McDonald's parking lot waiting for Carlo. Carlo never showed up, but Butter and Felon did. They killed Macho, his bodyguard, and the young women who were with them. Leave no stone unturned.

“That's old shit,” Butter said. “We them niggaz now. Fuck Carlo!”

“Easy,” Felon said, placing a hand on Butter's shoulder. “It's in our best interest to keep him with us. When and if that changes, you can do what you want.”

Butter nodded, but he still didn't agree with Felon. To him, Carlo was a spoiled rich kid, living in his father's shadow. He didn't answer to anyone, and that included Carlo. Whether Felon agreed or not, Butter planned to kill Carlo as soon as he gave him a reason to.

 

“I don't like that nigga.” Steve said, peering at the shrinking forms of Butter and Felon in the rearview. “He's always poking his chest out.”

“I ain't got a lot of love for the psychotic prick either. Butter is a headache.” Carlo lit his cigarette.

“Carlo, why don't you let me get rid of that chump? Felon is the real brains behind the shit anyway. We don't need both of them.”

“I had thought about that too. The thing is, Felon won't cut him off. He's stuck on this loyalty shit. As long as Felon keeps him under control, I'll tolerate him.”

“Carlo, he's gonna be a problem. I can tell by those funny-ass looks he keeps giving us. One of these days he's gonna feel lucky and cause a real problem.”

“Get the fuck outta here.” Carlo waved him off. “He's crazy, but hardly stupid. Besides, I got more pressing issues.”

“What's up?” Steve asked, looking at Carlo through the rearview.

“I got it on good authority that a cube truck filled with some prime shit is scheduled to disappear off the George Washington Bridge,” Carlo leaned in to whisper to Steve. “Give you one guess where it's supposed to end up.”

“Staten Island?”

“You got it. That half a fag, Jimmy V, is gonna make a killing off that shit!”

“Yeah, he's a lucky shit. Those guys in SI get all the perks, while we take what we can. But that falls under Jimmy and his crew's jurisdiction. We can't hit it.”

“Six weeks ago, a couple of goons knock over a UPS truck. From this truck they stole a shitload of blank credit cards. Cards that were supposed to be distributed by me. I lost out on some big money when I couldn't make good on those orders.” Carlo cringed, thinking about the hit to his bankroll. “I know it was Jimmy's people, but I couldn't prove it, so Dad said I had to let it ride. I say fuck that.”

“Carlo, I already know what you're thinking.” Steve shook his massive head. “If we hit Jimmy's shipment and someone fingers us, it's gonna raise a hell of a stink.”

“I know. That's why we gotta get somebody else to pull it off. Somebody who can't be traced back to us.”

Steve's wheels began to spin as he went through his roster of underworld associates to find someone capable of pulling the job off. “I got it!” He snapped his fingers. “I know a guy, real hard cat. Use to run a crew in Manhattan. These jokers would steal the collar off a priest if they thought it could bring in a few dollars.”