The Dopeman's Wife: Part I of the Dopeman Trilogy (11 page)

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Authors: JaQuavis Coleman

Tags: #Fiction, #African American, #General, #Urban

BOOK: The Dopeman's Wife: Part I of the Dopeman Trilogy
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“Nothing. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“How do you know?” he asked, his eyes on the water. “Tell me.”
“I just flushed my job down the drain. He just hired me for a role in the show, and now I’m done.” Nautica ran her fingers through her hair.
“I don’t think you’re going to be having any problem with Benny, trust me.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I just know, trust me. He was just a little drunk. I’ll talk to him in the morning.” Tical licked his lips and focused on Nautica’s eyes. “So how do you like the party?”
“It’s cool, I guess. I really like this yacht.” Nautica ran her hands over the steel rails. “I know something like this cost a lot of money.”
“Yeah, just under a half million,” Tical answered with his low, raspy voice. He spoke very low, but clearly and evenly.
“How you know? You into boats or something?”
“Yeah, kinda. I should know. I bought it.”
Nautica began to blush. She took another look at him, and her attraction to him before, multiplied by ten. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.” Tical showed his flawless smile, except for the very tiny gap between his two front teeth, which some women find adorable. “I’m kind of a big deal around here,” he said, his eyes stuck on Nautica’s.
“Oh, you the man, huh?”
“No, I’m just playing. I’m just a regular dude,” he said, self-assured.
“You don’t seem so regular to me.” Nautica picked up the diamond and platinum chain off his chest.
“I see you like to be different, huh?”
“What you mean by that?”
Tical pointed at her dress, pointing out that she was wearing all black at an all-white party.
Nautica giggled and put her hand over her mouth. “It was a little misunderstanding.” She shared a laugh with him. “So what do you do to afford a big boat like this?” She knew it had to be something extravagant because, where she was from, a dopeman might have a luxury car, but not a luxury boat, and so she dismissed the thought of him being a hustler.
He must come from a rich family or something
.
Or maybe he’s an athlete
.
“I’m into the stock market. I had a lot of luck in investing.”
Tical didn’t want to tell her the whole truth. Well, actually he didn’t lie. He was an investor in the streets, and it paid him handsomely. He was the boss of the streets of Baltimore, hands down. His name put fear in niggas’ hearts, and he could make the realest nigga feel like a bitch. His business savvy was legendary in the city, and that’s what actually drew him to the show when it first went into production. He knew the show would be special and invested early, which turned out to be a great power move for him. Now he had an income that could potentially clean his money and enable him to go legit.
Ice broken, Nautica and Tical had a two-hour conversation over a bottle of Moët.
It wasn’t long before she discovered Tical’s humility and intelligence. He was well-educated, but hood. Nautica was impressed. Tical was far from what she was used to in Flint, where she always had it one way or the other. When she started to like street niggas, they turned out to be dumb as hell, and when she dated intelligent brothers, they wasn’t hood enough for her. Tical had the perfect balance. She loved the way he took his time before every statement, as if he strategically put his words together to roll off his tongue to make perfect sense every time. His deep baritone sent chills down her back.
Tical and Nautica were laughing and enjoying each other’s company so much, neither of them realized that the party was over until they went downstairs to an empty dance floor.
Gunplay was at the bar drinking, talking to the bartender as he wiped the countertop. Tical and Nautica walked up to him as he downed a shot of vodka.
“Tical, there you are.” Gunplay looked at Tical with drunken eyes. “I didn’t see you all night, my nigga.” He looked over at Nautica. “You kept my man pretty busy.”
She smiled as she looked at Tical and thought about the great conversation they shared all night.
Tical nodded toward his friend. “This is my man, Eric Murdock, but we call him Gunplay.”
“Nice to meet you, Gunplay.” Nautica extended her hand. “That’s a helluva name.”
“It’s a childhood nickname that just stuck,” Gunplay lied, knowing he got the name because of his murder game.
Gunplay was a killer, point-blank and simple. He had rocked more people to sleep than a nursery, and his name also rang bells in the streets. He was Tical’s right-hand man, and they were the perfect combination of brains and muscle. While so-called real niggas were smoking blunts in the middle of a street war, he was smoking niggas, and that kept Tical’s operation on top.
“I’ma walk her to her car, fam. I’ll be right back.” Tical placed his arm on the small of Nautica’s back.
“Nice meeting you,” Nautica said to Gunplay, and she and Tical headed toward the steps to exit the yacht.
Nautica clinched her small purse when she reached her car. “I guess this is it, huh?”
Tical was used to girls having broken-down hoopties that tried to get at him.
It seems like she got her shit together
, he thought, not knowing that just a couple days before she was driving a busted-down Honda.
“Yeah, I guess it is. It was a pleasure.” Tical reached for Nautica’s hand. They shook hands, and Tical gently pulled her closer to him.
Nautica could smell the fresh scent of Tical’s cologne as she closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his chest.
“This night can’t end . . . not yet, at least,” Tical said almost in a whisper. He looked down at Nautica and kissed the top of her head.
“You know what,” Nautica responded, “I was thinking the same thing,” and she melted into his arms.
Nautica sped through the Baltimore highway trying to keep up with Tical’s smoke-colored drop-top Cadillac XLR. The car sat so close to the ground, it looked as if it was floating across the pavement. She laughed hysterically as she tried to keep up with the speedy vehicle.
Tical periodically peeked at her through his rearview mirror and smiled at her. He’d told her to follow him, and he decided to play a little cat-and-mouse game.
Nautica felt the torque in her new car and loved the way it handled. She pushed the button that dropped the top to her car, so Tical could see her face as she stayed on his ass.
Tical smiled as he glanced back at Nautica and saw the “let her titties show,” a term used to describe a topless car. He saw her long hair flowing in the wind and loved the way it made her look. Tical saw his exit coming and quickly switched three lanes over to get off.
Nautica, thinking fast, switched right with him and got off too. She couldn’t stop laughing. She was having the time of her life. She felt so lawless, so free, and so alive. Her heart beat fast as the adrenaline pumped through her body.
Nautica slowed her car and followed Tical to an oversized tri-level manor on the outskirts of Baltimore. Tical had invited her to his house, and she couldn’t turn down the offer. The house was a couple hundred yards from the water and had its own entrance that sat on the oceanfront. “This is beautiful,” she said as she followed Tical’s car to the parking area near the beach.
He was the first to hop out, and then Nautica did, her hand on her chest. “My heart is beating so fast,” she said, “I never drove that fast in my entire life.”
He smiled as he waited for her to walk over. “You can handle the wheel pretty good. I thought I was going to shake you.”
“I know how to handle mine.”
“Welcome to my home.” Tical waved at his gorgeous place. He took off his shoes and began to walk on the sand. “Come on.”
Nautica took off her heels and followed him. The sand felt good between her toes as they made the way to the back entrance of the house.
“That house is beautiful,” Nautica admired the glass house that lit up so nicely against the darkness. The house was like a lighthouse and lit up the whole beach.
“Thank you. I bought it a couple of summers ago,” Tical said modestly.
“Where did you come from? Mars?” Nautica said as she walked by his side.
Tical burst into laughter as he looked at her like she was crazy. “Mars? What you mean?”
“I mean, you seem like you got your life together. You’re young, black, and doing good for yourself. You don’t find a lot of dudes like you. Well, at least not where I’m from.”
“Maybe, you need to find a new circle, because everybody I know lives like this.”
Nautica giggled. She was waiting for Tical to smirk and chuckle, but when she saw no sign of it, she realized she’d met a major nigga and not a flake.
They reached his house and talked until the sun came up. No liquor, no sex, no drugs. Just deep conversation. For a brief couple of hours, Nautica forgot that she had no home or direction. Nautica had never experienced anything like that.
Tical fucked her that night. Not her body, but her mind. And she fell asleep fully clothed in his arms.
POLITICS AS USUAL
Chapter Fourteen
Tical sat across from Gunplay Murdock staring down at the chessboard. It was 10 a.m. and they were having breakfast together. Gunplay and Tical had a ritual. Every morning, over a game of chess, they would have conversations about their operation. Gunplay was Tical’s enforcer, and you couldn’t mention his name, if murder wasn’t in the same sentence. He didn’t get the name for nothing.
Only a few people knew of the magnitude of Tical’s prominence in the streets. He had the city’s heroin trade on lock, and chances were, if you were shooting dope in Baltimore, it came from him. He had a plug out of Florida that provided him with a high potency dope at dirt-cheap prices. His dope, which he labeled “primo,” drove the market crazy.
“Yo’, I heard some bullshit in the streets about that nigga Bear. Nigga talking slick out of his mouth. He been telling niggas that he’s going to rock you,” Gunplay said, not in an instigating way, but more out of concern.
Tical took his time before he spoke. The news didn’t seem to affect him at all. “Gunplay, let me ask you a question. When have you ever known me to not stay two steps ahead of niggas? This game is like chess. I know that nigga is talking out the side of his neck, but I ain’t worried. I’m already prepared for that. He a little nigga anyway.”
“I already know, bruh. But the nigga talking like he trying to off you or something. Niggas is stepping out of line, fo’ real. My lil niggas told me how he said you think you too big for niggas now. You know how niggas get when they see you doing your thing.”
“Naw, it’s cool. Let the nigga come. I got something for him. The nigga is just hot because I cut his ass off. He was on the east side with some stepped-on bullshit dope, selling it as primo, and giving my brand a bad name. I told that nigga to kill that shit, or I was going to cut him off. He kept doing the shit, so I stopped supplying him.”
“So what you want me to do about this?”
“Just fall back. Let him come to me, and we will handle it then.”
Although Tical was twenty-eight, he had sixteen years in the dope game. At his age most hustlers were either dead, in jail, or just getting in the game. But Tical was ready to retire. He was the walking blueprint of the perfect hustler.
Gunplay took his focus off the game. “Yo’, what happened to shorty you left with last night?”
Tical smirked and glanced back to make sure Nautica wasn’t around. Then he focused back on the chessboard and his next move. “Shorty upstairs ’sleep.” He nodded his head in confirmation.
“Word? You bagged shorty that quick?”
“It ain’t none of yo’ business. But, naw, I ain’t do nothing with her. She cool people, though. We just sat back and kicked it last night.” Tical took a sip of the apple juice on the table.
“What do I look like, nigga? Boo-boo the fool? You mean to tell me she stayed the night in yo’ bed and you ain’t hit nothing?”
“Straight up. We ain’t do nothing. She doesn’t get down like that. She ain’t like them hood rats around the way, ya dig? We just talked all night.”
Nautica stood by the entrance eavesdropping on their conversation. She wore one of Tical’s T-shirts that was way too big for her and hung down just above her knees. She’d heard their whole conversation and was surprised to find out that Tical was a drug dealer. The way he articulated himself and acted did not give out “hustler” in Nautica’s mind. She was going to enter the kitchen, but she wanted to hear a little bit more before interrupting them.
“That’s cool. Shorty was fine, though.”
“Yeah, she bad as hell. I like her style. She got her shit together. I’m so used to stripper bitches and sack-chasers on me. It felt good to kick it with a levelheaded female for once.”
“Yeah, you right. I saw that joint parked out front,” Gunplay said, referring to Nautica’s car. “That mu’fucka had to run her at least sixty stacks or more.”
Tical nodded his head in agreement as he made another move on the chessboard.
Nautica knew at that moment that she wouldn’t mention her past profession to Tical. She didn’t want him to think less of her. She slowly walked around the corner, revealing herself. “Good morning,” she said as she stared at Tical.
“Good morning,” they both said in unison, slightly surprised by her presence.
Tical stood up and slightly grinned. He walked toward her. “How did you sleep?”
Nautica could smell his fresh scent as he stood over her. She looked at Tical and admired his body. He wore a wife-beater that hugged his physique, and baggy pants that still managed to display a small bulge in his midsection. And his butter Timberland only enticed her more. He was fresh to death.
“I slept fine. I see you get up early, huh.” Nautica stood on her tippy toes to give him a peck on the cheek.
“Yeah, the early bird gets the worm. You remember my man from last night, right?” Tical said as he looked back at Murdock.
“Yeah, it was Gunplay, right?” Nautica waved quickly. She couldn’t forget a crazy name like that.
“Yeah. What’s good, shorty?” Gunplay stood up and finished the last of his apple juice. “Yo’, I’ma take off.” He gave Tical a pound. “It was good seeing you again,” he said to Nautica, and just like that he was gone.
Nautica hopped on the counter and swung her legs childishly. Tical focused his attention back on her, staring at her and running his fingers through her hair.
Nautica closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his strong hand sifting through her hair. She kissed the palm of his hand and then stared into his warm hazel eyes. “So, you never gave me a tour of your house.” She hopped off the counter and circled the marble countertop that sat in the middle of the spacious area, admiring the white marble floors and flawless area that he called his kitchen.
“I got you. Follow me.” Tical began to walk toward a small set of steps that led to a den next to the kitchen.
As soon as Nautica entered the area she was in awe. The oak wood theme gave the room a dark setting, and the brown leather couches matched the shelves perfectly. The walls were lined with books. In fact, his collection of over four hundred books resembled a small library. A large bearskin rug lay in the middle of the floor.
Tical walked over to his large handcrafted wooden desk that sat at the back of the room. “This is my study. I do a lot of thinking in here.”
“Very nice. I’m impressed.” Nautica began to run her fingers over the books in his bookshelf.
“Thanks.” Tical motioned for Nautica to follow him upstairs. “This is the first guestroom.”
She peeked inside the fully furnished room. The spacious room looked like a master bedroom. “One of your guest-rooms? How many rooms do you have?”
“Six,” Tical said in a humble tone.
Nautica went past a room with a note on the door that read
do not enter
in bubble crayon letters. It seemed like a teenager wrote it. She grabbed the back of Tical’s wifebeater, as she stopped. “Whose room is this?”
“Oh, that’s Millie’s room.”
Tical pushed the door open. The room was draped in cream and brown and had a plasma TV mounted on the wall. Nautica recognized immediately the feminine touch in the decor. The floor had all-white carpet, and a queen-sized bed sat in the middle of the spacious room.
“Who is Millie?” Nautica tried her best not to sound too eager to find out who the girl was.
Nautica and Tical walked into the room. Nautica picked up a framed picture from the nightstand and studied it. The picture was of Tical and another girl that wasn’t much younger than him on it. They were at a club, standing in front of an airbrushed background, both holding up bottles of Moët, and Tical had his arm around her, not in a companion way, but like a man would throw an arm around his nigga.
Tical watched Nautica observe the picture. “Millie is like my li’l sister. That was her eighteenth birthday party I threw for her at the club.”
Nautica didn’t want to be walking through another woman’s house and get herself into some bullshit. “Like your little sister?”
“Nah, nah, it ain’t even like that. I been looking after her since she was young.” Tical walked behind Nautica and rested his hands on her thighs.
Nautica stared at the slim, chocolate girl on the picture. She kind of resembled Lauryn Hill, with her full, dark lips and flawless smile. “She’s pretty. So, she lives here with you?”
“No, she just has a room here. She got her own spot about a year ago, and I just never changed the room, you know.”
Nautica put down the picture and followed Tical down the stairs and back into the kitchen, where he pulled out a chair for her and waved for her to come sit down. She smiled, accepting his invitation.
Tical then walked over to the refrigerator and began to pull out food. “You eat eggs and bacon, right?” he asked as he washed his hands.
“Yeah. You’re going to cook for me?” Nautica had never had a man prepare a meal for her.
He calmly nodded his head as he began to break up the eggs.
Nautica couldn’t stop smiling. Tical was looking sexy as ever, and he made her feel like a princess that morning, catering to her like he was a chef serving royalty.
Just as they were finishing up their breakfast, Tical received a call on his cell phone. He didn’t say much to the person on the other end. He hung up and said, “I’m sorry, ma. We’re going to have to finish this a little later.”
Tical walked around the table and grabbed Nautica from behind. When she felt his package on the small of her back, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
She turned around and looked into his dreamy eyes. “That’s fine. I had a great time with you last night, Tical.” She smiled. “Thank you.” She wiped her hands with a napkin.
Tical bent down and kissed the top of her head. “The pleasure was all mine.”
“What are your plans for tonight?”
“Not much.’ Nautica said as she stood up and stood face to face with him.
“Well, I have a luxury box at the Baltimore Ravens game. Do you like football?” he asked, returning her gaze.
“I love football,” Nautica lied.
“How does eight o’clock sound?”
“Great!” she said, her tone similar to that of an eager five-year-old.
Tical was completely turned on by Nautica. He ran her fingers through her hair and laid the softest kiss on her forehead. “Okay, I will call you later to arrange for a car to pick you up. Sorry I had to end this so abruptly, but I have to handle something very important.” Tical headed toward his den. “I’ll call you for your address later,” he said before disappearing into the darkness of the other room.
He obviously had something important to take care of, which only made him even more attractive to Nautica. She loved his style. He was so hood, yet so businesslike. She smiled as she went upstairs to get her things.
Bear’s all-black, dark-tint Lincoln Navigator was parked a couple of houses down from Tical’s home. He leaned back and observed patiently as he sorted out the plan in his mind to get at Tical. He watched a woman trot across the sands and head toward her car that sat a couple hundred yards from the back entrance.
Bear smirked, knowing that he’d finally caught Tical slipping. He fantasized about being at the top of the totem pole in the streets of Baltimore as the head dopeman. Tical was the only person in his way. He couldn’t compete with Tical. Every time he dropped his heroin price, Tical would lower his. Bear was forced to cop his work from Tical and become one of his workers. And Bear wasn’t going for that.
“I’m a boss,” he whispered to himself as he looked down at his lap and watched the woman’s head go up and down on his shaft. He put his hand on the back of her head and made her swallow him whole as he released himself in the back of her throat.
Bear’s six foot four, 280-pound frame led to his nickname, which suited him perfectly. He shifted position in the seat to pull up his pants, sliding his rod back into confinement. He wiped the sweat from his eyebrow and then rubbed his full beard, brushing it downward.
He sat back and watched his chocolate beauty use the mirror in the visor to straighten up her hair and re-apply her lipstick. “You the best, Lola. You know that, girl?” he said, admiring her ebony skin and Indian-textured hair.
“Nigga, I know.”
There to handle business with Tical, Lola’s beauty had Bear wanting to pop off before going in for the kill. He’d brought her along because she was the one who’d tipped him off about Tical’s home. He’d been trying to find out where Tical lived for weeks, and when he met her at the club a week earlier, she’d mentioned that she used to talk to one of Tical’s street generals. A light bulb flicked on inside of his head then. He knew Lola would be of great use to him.
After Lola told Bear that she rode over to Tical’s house one time with the general and knew exactly where he lay his head, and that he didn’t have any security at his main home because no one knew about it but his closest confidantes, he began spending time with her, just so he could squeeze more information out of her.

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