Lust (3 page)

Flex coulda kicked himself right in the nuts. He shoulda known a dime like Juicy wasn’t gonna be impressed by no tiny apartment in the basement of no funeral home.

He was gonna have to step his game up a little bit more. Elevate his status and his rep on the streets. Become larger and even more in charge so he could floss like G McKay with the finest bitch in Harlem on his arm.

But in order to do that Flex was gonna have to find the answer to the one question that continued to elude him. He was gonna have to find the one man who could get him mass quantities of powder at the absolute lowest cut-rate prices. He was gonna have to seal the deal with his slick white-boy partner and get his hands on that arsenal he had promised him too.

And once he was sitting on the top of the power pile and everybody else was either slumped over or bowed down, then Juicy was gonna open up them sexy legs for him and he would have her pretty slit dripping like melted butter.

Yeah
, Flex thought as the overhead lights blinked and the train pitched back and forth. Just as soon as he had the guns and the distribution channels deeply on lock, then Harlem and Juicy were both gonna be his.

Just thinking about how he was gonna handle Juicy’s body had his joint hot and throbbing. He closed his eyes and imagined Juicy with her creamy thighs cocked open, straddling his hips and riding his thick dick like a champ. The train rocked back and forth, making him sway gently in his seat. He thrust his hand deep in his front pocket and stroked his dick on the sly.

Lust had Flex gripped in a desperate, feverish state. He wanted to fuck Juicy more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life. And not just to get his shit off neither. He wanted to make Juicy feel good too. He wanted to make her squirt. He would eat her pussy all night long if that’s what it took. He would lick her whole ass. All of it. He rubbed his dick and imagined sliding it straight through the deep valley snuggled between Juicy’s firm, pretty breasts, and then spanking her thick nipples with the swollen head until he squirted all over her chest.

Flex could feel Juicy’s soft flesh in his hands. He could taste her in his mouth. And as the train roared through the station and the lights flickered off and on, he opened his eyes briefly and whispered her name. They glazed over again as he grunted and busted a load right there in his pants, and a rush of hot, sticky cum coated his thigh.

By the time Flex’s stop came and he got ready to transfer to the IRT line, thoughts of Juicy had totally consumed his body and his mind. He was sorry for pushing her down on those damn train tracks. Juicy was his girl. She always had been and she always would be. He didn’t give a fuck where she went, or how far she tried to run and hide. Juicy’s ass was
his,
and when he got ready to have her, he was damn sure gonna get her back.

CHAPTER 3

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” Ace paused in his heated argument with his manz Pluto as the sound of a commotion came from the hallway leading to the back door. Greenbacks were stacked in short piles all over the table, and the tension between them was thicker than the cigarette smoke that rose in the air.

It was after closing time at the G-Spot, and the two men had been counting the night’s take and arguing back and forth over whose fault it was that they had failed to nab Juicy.

Ace had been talking big shit, but now his hood instincts kicked in and he paused and frowned as he reached for the loaded gat he kept on his waist. Something wasn’t right. Salida had just left to catch a ride home with Truth, and hearing a hint of static at the back door made the beefy-necked gangsta suspicious as he listened intently with one hand on his burner and the other hand full of doe.

He heard it again. A frantic shouting sound that shattered the quietness of the night. Ace locked eyes with Pluto for a split second, and then he dropped the cash he was counting, yanked his 9mm from his waistband, and jetted up outta G’s office like that shit was on fire.  

It was Truth, Ace realized as he sped down the hall. That lil niggah was hollerin’ and screamin’ like a lick was going down, and Ace gripped his burner tight in his meaty fist as he raced toward the back door.

His mind was on whirl with every step he took. He was ready to blast the shit outta whichever come-up click had the nuts to fuck with Truth and pull a lick on the Spot, but then cold fear washed over him as he realized that Salida was out in that back alley with Truth too.

Ace barreled outta the door with his finger heating up the trigger. His eyes darted around for signs of a stick-up crew, but instead of spotting a posse of dangerous hood niggas, he almost had a fuckin’ heart attack when he spotted Salida stretched out on the sidewalk with blood coming outta her nose and her arms and legs sticking out in all different directions.

“What the fuck happened!?!” Ace roared as Truth knelt down beside her and pointed toward the corner. A pair of fading red taillights was disappearing into the dark night.

“Somebody fuckin’ hit her!” Truth panted. “Them niggahs rolled up on the fuckin’ sidewalk and
crashed
her ass!”

Ace pushed his burner into the back of his pants and dropped down to his knees beside his woman’s motionless form. “Salida, Salida, Salida,” he cried out in the emptiness of the night. She was so still he couldn’t tell if she was dead or alive. Her eyes were closed and a trail of blood ran from her left nostril. Her stylish white knit dress had street grime all over it, and the front had ridden up over her hips and exposed her thigh-high stockings and her lace-trimmed ivory garter belt.

Ace reached out and tugged Salida’s dress down, and then he cupped her face in his hands. Her skin was warm, and even with her hair fanned out everywhere and a huge noogie rising up on her right temple she was still beautiful.

“Yo!” he exploded on Truth. “Your dumb ass was supposed to be lookin’ out for her, you stupid muh’fucka!” Ace turned to face the young blood and straight blasted on him. “How the
fuck
did you let her get hit?”

“I didn’t
let
her get nothin’! I was coming around to open her fuckin’ door and that fuckin’ whip came outta nowhere! It was up on the sidewalk, man! That shit was movin’ so fast neither one of us saw it coming!”

“But when you guarding a jewel you supposed to see
every
fuckin’ thing coming, dun dun!
Every
fuckin’ thing, ya heard?”

Ace’s hands shook as he patted Salida’s cheeks again, and a huge wave of relief flooded through him when her eyelids fluttered a few times and then slowly parted.

She coughed and tried to straighten out her legs, and then she moaned in deep pain.

“Don’t move,” Ace told her quickly, and his voice was real gentle. “This lil muh’fucka let you get hit by a car, baby. I’ma get you to the hospital, okay? Just don’t move. Everything is gonna be all right.”

“Fuck is you standin’ around for?” Ace barked on Truth, furious again. “Open up the goddamn door so I can put her in the car!”

“Yo,” Truth frowned as he stared at his boss lady as she grimaced and moaned on the ground. That car had knocked the shit outta her. He’d watched her fly up in the air and then slam down hard on the BMW’s trunk. He wouldn’t be surprised if the whip had a big dent from where she had crashed into it. And the way her head had bounced off that concrete like a handball was just fuckin’ crazy.

 “You sure we should move her, Ace? What if she broke something? You don’t wanna just call the ambulance?” Truth shook his head and backed off a couple of steps. “I don’t know about moving her, man…” he said doubtfully.

“Shut the fuck up and open the goddamn door!” Ace spit viciously. He was sweating with fear for Salida, and his head swiveled on his neck as he looked over his shoulder and hollered frantically toward the G-Spot.

“Pluto! Yo, Pluto! Come help me! Where the fuck you at, man?”

“I’m right here,” his partner said quietly and stepped outta the shadows in the doorway.

“Yo, my niggah!” Ace barked suspiciously. “Fuck you doin’, man? You been standing there all this time? Salida got hit by a fuckin’ car! Somebody tried to ice her. Grab her legs and help me get her in the whip. And you better be gentle, muh’fucka, ya heard! Make sure you don’t hurt her. Word up, my dude, you better be real fuckin’ gentle!”

CHAPTER 4

They took me and Dread to the closest hospital, which was New York Methodist. The waiting room was crazy crowded. Dread wasn’t hurt, so he refused to be treated, and even though I had rolled up in an ambulance I didn’t have no bullet hole in my head so they parked my ass on a stretcher out in the hallway and made me wait for almost three hours.

By then my ankle had swollen up so bad my whole leg was throbbing and I was moaning and whimpering in pain. A nurse finally came and wheeled me into a little cubicle that was surrounded by a semi-circle of stained, raggedy curtains. She put me in a hospital gown and gave me a shot in my arm to help with the pain.

After a few minutes I started feeling real woozy, and I had almost fallen off to sleep when the curtains parted and a tall, shadowy dude stepped inside and walked right up to my bed.

Fletcher!
was all I could think as my eyes flew open and I broke for the other side of the bed.
Fuck my ankle!
I wasn’t feeling no pain as I crawled up on my knees and tried to leap my ass over the rail to get away from him. 

“Pret-ty gurl,” Dread grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me back down in the bed. “You ah safe, gurl. Me no gwan hurt you. No one gwan hurt you here, gurl.”

My heart pounded as I settled back on the plastic mattress. Dread pulled over a beat-up white plastic chair and held my hand as he sat down beside me. His Jamaican accent was like a song as he told me I was safe over and over until I drifted off into a doped-up sleep.

I woke up when a young hospital tech came and got me so my right leg could be x-rayed. He told Dread to wait in my cubicle, and then he wheeled me down a long hall to the radiology department. It was cold as shit in the bright room as they x-rayed my foot from all different angles, and then I got left outside on the stretcher in the hallway again.

I laid there dozing on and off for damn near forever, and the sun had come up by the time a doctor finally came to tell me that my right ankle was badly sprained and my knee was bruised, but thankfully nothing was broken.

“Pret-ty gurl,” I was shocked to find Dread still waiting for me when they wheeled me back into my little cubicle. “What you gwan do now, eh? You want me should get you sum-ting?”

I shrugged. I didn’t know what the fuck I was gonna do. I was just happy as hell to be alive and up outta Flex’s basement. But I was still stuck between a rock and a hot spot. Hell, I was still trying to wrap my head around that fuckin’ fool pushing me in front of a train! I couldn’t really see too far past that.

“Hey, what’s your name?” I asked Dread.

“Darren,” he said in his heavy West Indian accent. “Them call me Dirty D.”

“My name is Juicy. I’m thirsty,” I told him. I felt battered. My mouth was dry as hell and my lip was swollen and painful from Flex capping me all upside my head with his fist. “I don’t have any money, but can you buy me a Sprite?”

Dread nodded and pushed through the flimsy curtains like he was on a real important mission. I closed my eyes again when he walked out, but just a few seconds later the curtains slid open and a tall, brown-skinned sistah walked in.

“Good morning,” she said, smiling and holding out her hand. “My name is Shay Lucas, and I’m the social worker on staff. Do you mind if I talk to you for a few minutes?

I shook her hand and I couldn’t help but notice how pretty she looked in her stylish blue and gold dress. Her entire game was fresh. She smelled sweet like shower gel and perfume, and she wore her natural hair pulled back from her face and tied with a blue and gold scarf. She was playing some big gold hoop earrings and a matching gold choker, and her toned body and chocolate skin was flawless.