The Grind Don't Stop (5 page)

Mona whistled a heavy sigh of relief and rubbed her pussy. When the door closed behind them, she headed back for the kitchen. Before she started preparing the meal, she went into the pantry and finger-fucked herself to a spasmodic climax with the thought of Don's gigantic dick digging deep into her gushing pussy.

Beverly sighed heavily when the band reported a couple of arrests as she pulled into her parking spot at the station. Thankfully, none of her boy's names were mentioned. Of those she heard, she knew that they were Jamaicans. That group was getting more and more airplay as the weeks passed.

She grabbed her briefcase off the passenger seat and opened her door. The first person she saw was RJ, the deputy chief. She
shivered with disgust at the sight of his pompous ass. What was he doing here this time of the day? Normally he worked the second shift, so she automatically became suspicious. There was something awfully strange about dude. He definitely had too much unearned, family-favored political clout as far as she was concerned. Damn silver spoon in his mouth from birth and all that. Luckily he was bent over in his car so he couldn't notice her. She veered the long way around to avoid him, certainly not in the mood to put up with his bullshit.

She slipped into the elevator and her mind drifted to Sparkle. Damn him, the way he kept her heart aflutter.
When am I going to build up the nerve to face him? Is he holding out to see if I'll reach out for him first? We know it's inevitable, so why all the stalling?
Without realizing what she was doing her hand slipped to her crotch. She massaged herself several times before she remembered that there were cameras in the elevator. Her hand froze and she looked around the ceiling trying to locate its location. She made a mental note to check.

The doors split and the first person she saw was Sarah, her secretary and friend. They smiled at one another and she headed for her office, knowing she would soon follow. She pushed her office door open and immediately became aware that her special phone was beeping in its special code to let her know that one of her boys was reaching out to her. She looked over her shoulder. Was anyone watching? She sighed, praying that it wasn't Sparkle. She wasn't ready for him yet. She slid her briefcase on her desk and stared at the phone, wondering if she should answer
. Aw, what the hell.

Kobe Bryant's soaring dunk had the Philips Arena crowd in an uproar when Johnny Bee, the third of the amigos, felt his cell phone vibrating on his hip. He'd always considered himself the flyest dresser of the crew, even when they were hooking junkies and hoes on the Ave back in the day, hoarding their ends to keep Beverly and Yolanda as the top girls in the neighborhood. He was dressed to the tee as usual in a gold silk lounging outfit with a brown felt fedora and matching brown gator shoes.

He was feeling much too dapper to have his lock-a-ho phase of the game disturbed by an unwanted call. He snatched off his designer shades and fumbled for it with his left hand, being that his right arm was pinned to his body by the wailing female he'd brought to the game. He felt an urge to yank her by the neck and scream out her name, but he couldn't recall it to save his life.
What was it? Ah, Mariah, Marisa, damn, it's Marsomething. Damn, aaaah what the fuck. What difference does it make anyhow?
As long as she could fit into his harem of boosters, it really didn't matter what her fucking name was.

Johnny Bee somehow managed to squeeze the phone from between their bodies. It was hard to hone in on the voice on the other end with her yelling to the top of her lungs and using him as a human teddy bear. All that wailing and the deafening sound of the crowd made it nearly impossible. But he did manage to decipher enough of the conversation to cause him to jerk angrily away from her.

The suddenness of his reaction surprised the hell out of her and she leaned away, frowning as he shouted into the phone. Her female curiosity was pushing her to say something, but the words froze on her tongue when she saw the fire blazing in his eyes.

It was like he was an entirely different person from the one she had met in Underground Atlanta when they had gotten caught
up in a Michael Vick autograph frenzy at the bottom of the stairs. He'd been so gentlemanly and cordial. And in the weeks since, as he had wined and dined her, she felt herself falling in love with him without even realizing that it was happening. But now as she looked into his angry eyes, it seemed as though she didn't really know him at all. As the deafening roar of the crowd calmed, allowing her to hear her own thoughts, she realized that she didn't really know anything about Johnny Bee. With a mesmerizing jolt, it dawned on her that he had started dominating her time and thoughts as no man had ever done before. A mystery man had swept her off of her feet and now she couldn't figure out what to do about it.

As if he was able to read her thoughts, he quickly reverted back to his captivating mode. After all, he considered himself a practiced technician on matters of a woman's heart. Countless of times over the years of copping-a-ho, locking-a-ho, pimping-a-ho and blowing-a-ho, had certainly given him an honorary degree on the subject.

He put on his hundred-watt-dazzle-a-bitch smile as he measured the inner woman with the baby face features. Unbeknownst to her he was mentally calculating how her natural innocence would fit into the conning schemes that his other girls were at that very moment putting down somewhere in the city. He enjoyed this part of the game the most; the chase, the art of turning a honey out to the street life. So even though the news he'd received was disturbing, he forced it to the back of his mind and tried to concentrate on, damn, he couldn't remember her name.
It'll come to me sooner or later
. He pocketed the phone inside the vest of his brown raw silk suit, leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Yo, baby girl, I hate to tell you this but we've got to spilt.”

Disappointment was written all over her face. It wasn't every
day she got to wear one of her sexiest outfits to a Hawks game, especially one with her favorite player, Kobe Bryant, in it.

She blinked innocently hoping to change his mind for she was having a ball. But it only took her a few seconds to realize that the game was over, for her anyway. So she let out a heavy sigh, stood up, took his hand and allowed him to lead her along the aisles of screaming fans.

On the way through the Omni parking lot, he eased his car keys into her manicured hands. She looked over at him. She was surprised and disappointed. On one hand, it meant that he trusted her, yet it meant that he was about to depart her company. Even though she was wrapped in mixed emotions, there was a flow of exuberance because no man had ever put that much trust in her, especially giving her the keys to a luxurious, customized Chrysler New Yorker.

He knew the kind of effect it had on her. What she didn't know was that the car didn't really mean a damn thing to him since he'd gotten a crackhead bitch to lease it to straighten out a dope debt. It was something he did on a nearly weekly basis. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her. And it was good food for his massive ego, keeping a bitch locked on a magic carpet ride.

He smiled at her and placed his hand on her shoulder. “Sweet-heart, something has come up that I have to handle immediately.” She opened her pretty mouth to say something, but he quickly placed a finger on her lips. “Shhhh, just listen and do what I tell you to do, okay?”

She looked into his eyes and nodded shyly. He handed her a sheet of paper and licked his lips before he ran his hand across his mouth. “Go to this apartment in Candler East. A friend of mine named Yolanda is waiting for you. She'll tell you about some things you need to know. If she isn't there just let yourself in and make yourself at home. She'll be there shortly.”

“What?”

He ran a hand down his face, then coughed in his fist to clear his throat. “Girl, just do like I ask you, okay? I wish I could tell you what's going on but I can't put that burden on you; you too new to the crew. I've got a lot on my mind right now and none of it concerns you, but I've definitely got to handle it.” He kissed her on the forehead and he looked up into the sky impatiently as he waited for her to insert the key.

“I'll call you when I find out what's going on.” He smiled and tapped the side of the door before he walked away. She watched stunned as he disappeared among the other cars.

She was wondering what kind of a dude she'd let herself get so emotionally involved with. That same curiosity soon turned into a smile as she pulled onto Houston Street and headed toward I-20 and the Candler East apartments in Decatur. She was excited with the anticipation of the unknown.

Being caught up in her thoughts, she didn't notice the dark sedan as it pulled out behind her, following at a safe distance. Its occupants conversed with each other while one of them took instructions on a cell phone.

‘B' was locked in conversation with his boys on his cell as he headed for Five Points to catch the train. “Damn, man, y'all ain't got no idea who done that shit. Well, let's just go over there and brace his ass about it... Y'all on the way over there now. Good, I'm about to get on the train in a minute… Bet, see y'all in a few then. Hey, dog, don't you think you talking a little too much here? You need to go on the chill, for real, yo. Let's finish this up after we all get over there. I don't like talking on these cell phones. Which car is y'all in? In a few, then I'm out.”

His thoughts were running wild as he started toward the turnstiles. He felt a headache coming on and started wishing he'd put some coke in the heart locket draped around his neck. He'd left
it behind because he was developing this new girl for the grind and wanted to hide that aspect of his life.

So here he was stuck with this oncoming nasty headache on the rise with no coke to curtail it. Hopefully Rainbow or Sparkle would have some on them.

The MARTA train to the Eastside had just set out when he sat up in the seat. “Man, what's wrong with me?” He took the phone out and punched some numbers. When a husky female voice picked up, he started shouting orders. “Bitch, who there with you? Okay good, meet me at the Krispy Kreme on Lee Street. I need a little something for this headache trying to crush my head. Hell yeah now, I'm almost there myself. Beat me there, bitch.”

He clicked off, smiling before he shouted, “What?” to a pair of nosey women sweating him across the aisle. When they immediately diverted their attention, he resumed his relaxed position and muttered under his breath, “Damn, it still feels good to be a muthafucking king.”

On their way to rendezvous with Johnny Bee, Rainbow stopped to pick up the twins at his rundown apartment complex in Butter- milk Bottom where he used to sell dope. If nothing else, they would serve as a good cover if something unforeseen went down and the police felt like digging at a couple of fly niggas. The twins had proven to come in handy with gunplay in the past; especially Cheryl with her trigger-happy ass. Both she and her identical twin sister, Sherry, were gorgeous and had the heart of lionesses. Talking about spit-image lookalikes; hello to Diana Ross in her heyday. They also had the attitudes of real-life divas, to boot.

Sparkle was happy to be in the company of the twins again.
They'd been influential in getting him re-accustomed to the streets the first week he'd gotten out of the joint. They'd definitely come in handy when they'd introduced him to the many girl dope pushers along the I-20 hotel strip. At the time he'd really thought that their brother, Percy, and JJ, his sister Debra's ex boyfriend and former prison gambling partner, were running things in the dope game. Boy, had that ever proved to be a lot bullshit. Hooking up with the twins had proven to be quite beneficial in other ways as well. Rolling around with them had led to his getting locked in with Violet, his legendary boosting queen and main woman.

As they pulled into the club's parking lot they saw their boy's dark blue Caddie with its gold ragtop glistening under the street lamp. Two of ‘B''s favorite boosting hoes, Pinky and Laurie, were sitting on the hood acting as if they didn't have a care in the world. They popped gum and snake-rolled their heads in the snappy, animated way that street hustlers did. Both Rainbow and Sparkle knew they were watch dogging the Caddie to make sure that ‘B' wouldn't come out with his carriage setting on bricks. It was definitely that kind of neighborhood.

They had proven in the past that they would come in handy with some guns if it came down to that.

As they pulled into the club, they saw their boy's dark blue caddy with the gold ragtop glistening under the street lamp. Two of B's favorite boosting hoes, Cheryl and Laurie, were sitting on the hood acting as if they didn't have a care in the world. But they knew they were watch dogging the caddie to make sure that he wouldn't come out with his carriage sitting on bricks. It was definitely that type of neighborhood.

They had planned on easing into the club unnoticed, but Cheryl, with her shit-starting ass, had to say something. “What's up, hood rats? I see that B's got
y'all stank asses just where y'all belong; playing watchdog.”

“Fuck you, slut, ooops I mean sluts,” Laurie, a petite sassy-mouthed, black-as-midnight vixen, replied in a voice full of venom.

“Y'all still licking those vanilla and chocolate lollypops for dime rocks?” Cheryl shot back with just as much nastiness.

“Mmmmm-hmmm, and saving the dusty Ziplocs so y'all can get a decent back,” Pinky, a juicy-bodied redbone, clad in some shiny silver daisy dukes cuffing her donkey ass that matched the halter top and Hercules strap sandals yelped. She jumped off the hood and coiled up like a viper ready to strike. “Dat's right, bitch, I mean bitches. I said it.”

Seeing her sister outnumbered, her twin, Sherry, quickly joined in the fray. “Aw aw, y'all, I smell a catfight. I just know yall funky hoes ain't ready to throw down, for real.”