La Familia 2 (9 page)

“You know I don't do VIP like that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The bitch talked me into it. I was reluctant to go, but Kawanda was a smooth bitch with words, even when she was high. She amped a bitch up about making that paper and how it was a rapper's party, and how he was signed to a record label and getting married to his high school sweetheart. And then she mentioned he was kin to Steele from the group Smif-n-Wessun, a well-known hip hop artist back in the nineties.

Kawanda spent an hour at my place. We talked, ate, and chilled. I truly needed the company. The minute she walked out, it was when Danny finally woke up from his nap. I heard him crying in the bedroom. Everything came to an end just in the nick of time.

I went to hold my son and feed him his bottle. I knew he was hungry. As I was holding him against my chest and feeding him his milk, I couldn't stop thinking about that fraudulent rap group and then thinking about taking this trip to the Ville. I looked around my cramped, shitty apartment and knew I needed to do better. For the reason that I saw myself becoming like one of these bitches who got sucked into that hole of misery and nothing more but dancing, and turning tricks for weed and rent money.

It was my worst nightmare to become a broke-down and bum bitch with nothing to show for all her hard work and sweat over the years; especially when you have kids.

Tango exited the division of parole office on 14 Bruckner Boulevard and quickly lit a cigarette. He truly needed the nicotine. It had been a stressful morning. His first meeting with his parole officer, who was a bitch named Rochelle Hammond, and she was already up his ass about the conditions of his parole. She was a black woman with a curly afro and bad attitude. She looked harder than stone itself and was already warning him how quick she would violate him if he violated any conditions of his parole.

“Don't fuck with me and I won't fuck with you,” she had warned him.

He had been out of Attica for forty-eight hours, and even though he was a free man, he still wasn't free with having so many restrictions while being on parole. And there were too many restrictions for him to abide. He had to find a legal job as soon as possible and notify his parole officer of any new jobs. He had to tell his parole officer where he lived and worked, and if he moved, he had to tell his parole officer of his new address before he moved. He couldn't socialize with any known felons or criminals. He had to ask for permission to travel anywhere fifty miles from his residence and receive approval before he could travel. He couldn't carry a gun and a knife with a blade longer than two inches except a kitchen knife. He had to take mandatory drug test randomly. He had to abide all laws, not even run a traffic light. And if he broke any law, he could be sent back to prison even if he didn't have any criminal charges.

Being on parole sucked, but Tango was still happy to be home.

Tango puffed on his cigarette and looked around the bustling area. While sitting in the waiting area of the parole building he ran into a few familiar faces from back in the days. It was somewhat like a street reunion. One particular friend he was happy to see again was Sheldon, his longtime running buddy and partner in crime. They came up together in the mean streets long ago. Sheldon had been sent upstate before Tango for drugs and grand theft; he did his time at Clinton Correctional facility. He had been home for over a year and wouldn't max out until 2016.

The two men started talking and quietly reminisced in the waiting area as they passed the time until they were called to meet their parole officer. For Tango, it was good to see a friend again.

Tango leaned against the building enjoying his cigarette and enjoying every woman who walked by him, as he eyed them heavily and tried to holler at them.

“Hey, luv, can we talk?”

“Damn, ma, I like the way you walk.”

“Beautiful, you need some company?”

Tango used every available pickup line he could think of, but to no avail. He was outdated and shunned by the passing women. The Bronx was like a whole new world to him after being locked away for ten long years. But he was going to continue trying.

He felt like a kid in a candy store with so many beautiful women walking all over that he was desperate to take one home to his mother's place and lock her in the bedroom for twenty-four hours and sexually have his way with her.

With the morning fading, Tango didn't know what to do with his day. He had ten years of time to catch up on. He was waiting for Sheldon to exit the building so the two could continue to catch up on lost time. While he lingered out front on the sidewalk, his eyes darted everywhere from the ladies, to the changes in the street, to the different cars that were out now. And then there were this new gadgets called iPhones and smartphones that everyone was carrying around now. Before his lengthy incarceration, people only carried around cell phones and most of them were flip phones.

Tango was in awe at how much things had changed, from social sites to the streets. Yeah, he definitely had a lot of catching up to do. But his first priority was sex. It had been on his mind from the time he stepped out of prison.

“I see your eyes lookin' around, all thirsty and shit,” Sheldon said, stepping out of the parole building and catching Tango's eyes glued to a big-booty woman passing him by.

“Yo, I don't remember bitches ever being this fine in the Bronx,” he replied.

“Yeah, a lot done changed,” replied Sheldon.

“I see, I see.”

“You got another cigarette?” Sheldon asked.

Tango reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his dwindling pack of Newports. He passed Sheldon one and lit it for him. The two enjoyed a cigarette in the thirty-degree temperature. Sheldon took a few drags, exhaled and asked, “So when did you get out?”

“Two days ago.”

“How long they got you on paper for?”

“Seven years.”

“Shit, I max out in three.”

“That's what's up. This parole shit is a fuckin' bitch,” said Tango.

“Man, you don't even know the half of it. My PO be itching to catch me slippin' out here and ready to violate my ass.”

“I got this bitch named Rochelle Hammond.”

“Yeah, I know 'bout her. Muthafuckas call her the Iron Lady,” he joked.

“That bitch is hard and ugly like a muthafucka. Lookin' like a fuckin' sasquatch and shit,” Tango joked.

Sheldon laughed.

“But on the real, nigga, I'm so fuckin' horny right now, I'll even fuck that ugly bitch in a heartbeat. Crazy,” Tango let be known.

Chuckling, Sheldon replied, “Damn, you ain't break in no pussy yet? Shit, first day home and I fucked like three bitches the same night.”

“Nah, yo. I just been window shopping, and bitches ain't showin' a nigga no love. I'm lookin' all ragged and shit.”

“Yo, what happened to that bitch you used to fuck wit' back in the days? That Dominican bitch wit' the big tits. What's her name?”

“You talkin' 'bout Yvonne.”

“Yeah.” Sheldon smiled.

“That bitch wasn't ride or die wit' me. The minute I got sent upstate, she whoring around wit' the next nigga, got pregnant like four times and fell off and shit. Niggas was telling me she a crack fiend now, you kna' what I'm sayin',” Tango said.

“What, that's crazy, yo.”

“Man, fuck that bitch.”

“Yo, you need a ride back?” Sheldon asked.

“Hells yeah, I do. What you pushin'?”

“Sumthin' simple, nuthin' fancy. It ain't like back in the days when niggas had matching Benz wit' the chrome rims and shit.”

Tango smiled, remembering what Sheldon was talking about. “Yo, we were doin' our thang.”

They slapped five with each other.

“Yeah, we were, and ya lethal-ass couldn't stay outta beef.”

“Who you tellin'? 'Cause niggas was hating on us hard 'cause we were 'bout that money and gettin' that money.”

“We was,” Sheldon agreed. Sheldon flicked away his cigarette, said to Tango, “C'mon, I'm parked around the corner.”

Tango followed his friend. They approached a blue, '89 Volvo. The car was definitely a major step down from what they were used to driving: high-end foreign cars that attracted attention wherever they went. The men climbed inside the Volvo and Sheldon was driving on the Bruckner Expressway North, heading toward Edenwald.

As Sheldon drove, Tango said to him, “Yo, what's up wit' the strip clubs out here? Bitches still gettin' buck-naked and selling pussy?”

“My nigga, you don't want to fuck wit' these hole-in-the-wall spots. They too hot right now. They been gettin' raided a lot lately, undercover cops be lurking and too many eyes watching, and the last thing you need is to get caught up in a fuckin' raid and get violated. And, plus, these bitches be tryin' to overcharge niggas and ain't no privacy like that,” Sheldon proclaimed.

“My nigga, I need to smash sumthin' tonight.”

Sheldon chuckled. “A'ight, I got you. I got this bitch I know in Edenwald, sometimes she be knowing bitches that get down for their bread. I'll make that call fo' you.”

Tango nodded. “My nigga. They cute right?”

“She don't fuck wit' no gorilla-lookin' bitches. You know I got you,” Sheldon said.

Tango smiled like the Cheshire cat. He leaned back in the passenger seat, lit up another cigarette, and gazed out the passenger window. After his conquest of the pussy mission, he needed to look for a job. He needed to show his PO that he had some kind of employment. But the only thing he knew how to do was hustle, sell drugs, and kill people. He had no legal work history or a GED. The task seemed nearly impossible. Seeing that Sheldon was doing pretty good for himself, he asked, “Yo, how you makin' ya ends out here?”

“Every day is a struggle out here, my dude. But I'm workin' at this body shop on Jerome Ave. You know I was always good wit' workin' on cars. It pay a'ight, but when I want that extra bread, I sell weed on the side. I keep me happy and my PO happy,” Sheldon stated coolly.

“I feel you. They hiring?”

“Nah, I wish they were. Niggas barely wanted to give me the job, but my cousin looked out fo' me,” replied Sheldon.

It didn't hurt to ask.

They made their way back to Edenwald and Tango couldn't help but to think how much the neighborhood had changed. The gang activity increased heavily in the neighborhood. His first day home and there was a shooting outside his building; a fifteen-year-old kid was shot three times, but he survived. He noticed BMB scrawled everywhere from the bodegas to the lobby walls of his building. The young thugs were lingering all about, hustling, gambling, shooting, and beefing with their rivals, YGC. YGC claimed their territory too, and they were warring over buildings and corners, something major Rico used to control.

Sheldon gave Tango the rundown on what was going on in the hood.

“Yeah, it got more fierce out here, Tango, the wild, Wild West on steroids,” Sheldon said. “These young niggas today, they ain't got no respect fo' anybody, killing everything movin' out this bitch, even got the OG's walking around on eggshells.”

Tango smirked. He wasn't worried about anyone. “Sheldon, you know I never worry 'bout no fool. Shit, muthafuckas better be glad that I retired from this shit,” said Tango with a pugnacious tone.

“Yeah, we already know 'bout ya lethal-ass, nigga. Ya name still rings out in these streets.”

“Ring on, muthafucka, ring on,” replied Tango humorously.

Sheldon chuckled evenly.

However, Tango planned on minding his business and trying to go straight, and live his life as a civilian. As long as they didn't fuck with him, then he wasn't going to fuck with them. They haven't seen a killer on his caliber or level. But that was over ten years ago. He was now in his early thirties and trying to retire from the street life.

Sheldon parked on East 225th Street and the two walked into his building together. Tango wasn't in any rush to go back to his place, so he decided to hang out with an old friend. Plus, Sheldon planned to make the phone call to his female friend to set up Tango with a date, or more like a booty call for some ass.

All day, they sipped on cognac, smoked cigarettes, and talked. Sheldon lived alone. Tango respected his bachelor pad setup and couldn't wait to get a place on his own like his friend: leather furniture, fifty-inch flat-screen TV, Xbox, cable, a shelf spilling over with DVDs, along with a fridge filled with beer and snacks, and a cabinet filled with liquor. It was a haven to him, especially after being locked in a small jail cell for ten years.

Lounging on the leather couch, Sheldon said to Tango, “Tonight, this bitch is on me. I got you. Consider it a welcome home gift from ya boy.”

Tango raised his Corona beer in the air and said, “Cheers to that.”

He smiled and felt his dick getting hard just thinking about getting some pussy after ten years of jerking off to adult magazines and abstinence.

I heard the weatherman forecast snow tonight, at least seven inches with freezing wind, so I assumed tricking tonight on the track would be cancelled. I needed a break from Hunts Point. Night after night, Erica and I worked the blocks, climbing in and out of cars, sucking dick and fucking in whatever position the clients requested. Cream was also always around, watching our backs, proclaiming to be protecting us with his pistol in his waistband. Some nights were good, easy going; I would make $500, maybe more, and give Erica her 65 percent. And then there were nights where I would be wearing out the bottom of my shoes walking constantly, freezing my butt off, and not catching a date, barely making a hundred dollars that night.

I hate to say the words that I was getting used to it, but I somewhat was. I was feeding my daughter, buying her the clothes she needed, and actually able to take her to fun places like Chuck E. Cheese's, the movies, and the museum. And I was trying to save to get my own place and get from underneath Erica's wing. I didn't plan on selling pussy and sucking dick for the rest of my life. I didn't see myself doing this in the spring or summer. I was determined to find my way out somehow. I thought about going to school, but that cost too.

When we weren't out on the track degrading ourselves, Erica and I would be chilling, smoking, talking, laughing, and being friends. It was like night and day in that apartment. Sometimes she would cook a wonderful meal and I couldn't get enough of her cooking. We would watch movies and just be normal ladies with kids to raise. But the best times were when Cream would be gone all day, maybe a day or two. He proclaimed to be out on business, but I knew the truth behind his absence. He was fucking some other bitch out there. Erica was too blinded to see the truth. And Cream had a heavy influence on her. It had me thinking,
damn, is the dick that good?

But it wasn't any of my business, so I kept quiet about it.

The evening was a good day. I was playing with Eliza and we all sat around the TV watching Disney's
The Lion King
and then we watched
Brave.
I always enjoyed watching children's films; the storytelling and the animation was utterly amazing. I looked out the window and saw the first snowflakes falling to what the weatherman predicted the city receiving at least six to seven inches over the night. I sighed with relief and smiled. Growing up, I always enjoyed the snow; and when it stopped snowing, I was ready to take Eliza out in it so we could play around and make a snowman and probably find a hill to slide down in a homemade snow sleigh.

“Look, y'all, it's snowing,” I announced.

The kids immediately ran to the window to peer outside. They were in joy seeing the white flurries cover the entire projects trying to make the hood transform into some winter wonderland. I gazed out the window with them.

“See, Eliza, look, it's snowing,” I said.

My daughter tried to reach to grab it, touching the window and smiling. I smiled too. While I and the kids were distracted with the snowfall, Erica's phone rang. She picked up and went into the kitchen to talk. I didn't think anything of it. I continued gazing outside. Five minutes later, Erica came back into the living room and said to me, “You wanna make some extra money tonight?”

I looked at her perplexed and replied, “How? It's snowing outside.”

“Not on the track, close to home.”

I felt reluctant in seeing a client close to home. I didn't respond right away, but Erica added, “He cool people. He lives close, on 225th Street. We can walk there.”

“Who's watchin' the kids?”

“I can call a neighbor. But this can be an easy two hundred, Mouse, for an hour.”

I sighed. “Fuck it, I'll do it.”

She smiled. She got back on her cell phone to arrange the date. Erica was like the post office: rain, sleet, or snow, our clients were still going to get their service. I pulled Eliza into my arms and held her lovingly. If it weren't for her, everyone could kiss my ass, because my pussy was precious to me; now it was for sale like some groceries in the supermarket.

 

Erica and I hurriedly walked in the cold and snow to 225th Street. I was bundled up in a yellow North Face bubble jacket, tight jeans, snow boots, and a wool ski hat. It was snowing and too cold to try to look cute for anyone. I didn't know much about the apartment we were heading to, or the man who called, except he was a very good friend of Erica's and was cool peoples.

We entered the building lobby and took the stairs to the third floor. I had to get some warmth. It felt like negative twenty degrees outside. The snow was accumulating and we seemed to be the only two fools walking around in it. I followed Erica to apartment 3B. She knocked. I waited. Seconds later, a man answered with a smile and a beer in his hand.

“Damn, y'all came fast,” he said.

“You know how I do, always 'bout my business,” she told him.

The man's eyes looked past Erica and lingered on me and he nodded. “Yeah, your friend is cute.”

“I told you.”

He stepped to the side and allowed us inside his place. I immediately noticed another man inside. He was seated on the leather couch, smoking a cigarette, and the minute I came into his view, he smiled cheerfully and gazed at me like I was some sizzling prime steak that he was ready to devour. He couldn't take his eyes off of me.

“Ladies, this is my friend, Tango,” the man at the door introduced him.

“Hey, Tango,” Erica greeted him, with her flirtatious smile.

He stood up and walked over toward us with his attention fixated on me. I stood quietly in everyone's presence. Tango, he was tall and seemed to have a well-built physique underneath the T-shirt he had on. His eyes lingered on me with pleasure. It was like he was starstruck on me, making me feel like I was some celebrity.

“You're beautiful,” he spoke, making me smile.

“Thank you.”

“I mean you are a very beautiful woman,” he repeated. His words were genuine, authentic. And he truly gazed at me like I was the most beautiful woman in his eyes.

I couldn't help but to blush in front of him.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Diamond,” I lied. It was my stage name.

“And you are a diamond.”

“Well, it's good to see that everyone getting along nicely,” Erica chimed.

She and her friend were getting acquainted with each other. I never got his name, but I had to admit, Tango and his friend were very handsome men. I instantly knew they were street, hood niggas with some charisma in them and looking to have a good time tonight, either with us on our knees or on our back with our legs spread. They offered us a drink and told us to feel at home. I knew what we came there for, but Erica wasn't in any rush to handle business. She and the man named Sheldon were laughing, flirting, and acting like they used to date each other. She was seated on his lap with him rubbing between her thighs and kissing on her neck.

I was seated next to Tango and he seemed cool. I nestled next to him sipping on some liquor and conversing.

“So, Diamond, I heard you speak Spanish. Where you from?” Sheldon asked.

“I'm from here; my pops is from the Dominican Republic,” I told them.

“Spanish females are so sexy. Say something nice in Spanish,” Tango said.

I smiled, and said to him, “
Usted es un hombre muy guapo.
”

He smiled. “What did you just say?”

“I said, ‘you are a very handsome man.'”

“Oh shit, my nigga, I think she really likes you,” Sheldon chimed.

We all laughed.

I felt Tango's hand run up my thigh and rest between my legs. He rubbed my pussy through my jeans. He was all over me like white on rice, trying to put his hand up my shirt, feel my tits, and kiss the side of my neck. I could tell he was hard already; his erection protruded through his jeans. He was so antsy he seemed like a child with ADD.

“I want you,” he whispered in my ear.

I chuckled lightly. “You do.”

“Hells yeah, I do. You so fuckin' sexy and beautiful, I would put a ring on ya finger right now,” he said.

From his fanatical look, it seemed like he meant every word of it. He kissed the side of my neck again and fondled me. I allowed his touch to roam all over me.

Erica suddenly went from playful mode into business mode. “Tango, I know you feelin' my girl and all, but this pussy ain't free. You gotta pay to play.”

“Oh, I'm ready to pay,” said Tango.

Tango looked at Sheldon. Sheldon nodded and said, “I got my man tonight.” He gently pushed Erica off of his lap and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a wad of fifties and twenties. Erica's and my eyes were glued to the bankroll he pulled out. He peeled off $300 and handed it to Erica. She happily took his payment and said, “See, now we can continue on wit' our play.”

The minute Erica was paid Tango pulled me from off the couch and wanted to take me into the room. I saw the strong lust in his eyes and kind of got nervous for a minute. He looked like he was about to get rough with me. He couldn't wait to have me.

“Damn, your boy is thirsty for some ass,” Erica said.

“Yeah, he is,” Sheldon replied.

“I'm gonna play nice,” Tango said, showing a lecherous grin.

Yeah, like his words comforted me. But reluctantly, I was there to perform a service so me and my daughter could eat. Tango escorted me into one of the three bedrooms and before I walked in behind him, I heard his friend say, “Y'all two have fun now, my friend really needs this. And don't stank up my room.”

The door closed behind me and I found myself in this barren-looking room, a small bed, no TV, or any posters and pictures decorating the walls. I guessed it was used for only one or two purposes: sleeping and sex. I stood by the door suddenly feeling apprehensive. Tango sat on the bed and stared at me.

“I'm sorry, do I make you nervous?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

He did, but I didn't admit it to him. The look in his eyes showed a man who could be cold and dangerous. But yet, he seemed gentle and caring toward me for some reason. He was ready for me, and I had to ready myself for him. He took off his shirt, revealing his strapping and chiseled physique. I was in awe at his body. He was cut up and muscular everywhere. His biceps bulged out like a small mountain. His stomach had a wave of abs. And his upper body was swathed with tattoos; some I recognized as gang related, some was art, he had biblical scriptures written across his chest and back, and a few demonic artwork on his arms, which to me, contradicted the biblical passages.

“I gotta be honest with you,” he started to say.

When a man said to me “I gotta be honest with you” I tended to get a little nervous for some reason. Tango looked at me and said, “I just got out of prison a few days ago, and you're the first woman I'll be with in ten years.”

Wow,
I thought.

He continued with, “I just need to feel the touch, the smell, the affection, and the inside of a woman right now. I'm so fuckin' horny right now that I'm 'bout to explode. And you are the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.”

That right there, his lovely comment, made me smile widely.

“And if you speculating 'bout my sexuality, I ain't never been wit' no nigga in jail. I don't fuckin' swing that way. I spent my time reading, working out, and jerking off,” he stated.

It was good to hear him say that.

“You really think I'm truly beautiful?”

“I think you're an angel, Diamond. I think any man who is in your life is a lucky and very fortunate man. I look in your eyes and I see a woman so pure and down for hers.”

“You see that in my eyes,” I replied. “You don't even know me.”

My first impression was he was spitting some game at me, sweet talking; but he already paid me to fuck him. So I assumed his words were genuine. A man locked up for ten years, constantly around men and prison guards twenty-four/seven; maybe he could tend to change and found himself in a better place. I didn't know his history or his past and I didn't want to know it. I was simply a form of pleasure to him, not his parole officer.

“I wanna get to know you,” Tango said.

“You wanna get to know me huh?” I walked toward him, undoing my shirt and unfastening my jeans. Yeah, being inside me was one way of getting to know me.

He stood up and undid his jeans. That thirst for sex continually lingered in his eyes. He removed his jeans and boxers and showed me what he was working with. No lie, I was impressed with his size, not too big and not too small, but very right: eight inches long and with girth. His penis stood at attention, looking like a black steel pipe.

I came out my clothes and was buck-naked. His eyes lit up and his dick was so hard that it looked like a SCUD missile ready to launch inside of me.

“You have a condom?” I asked.

“Nah,” he said.

Luckily, I did.

I pulled out a Magnum, which looked like it would fit him snugly in that area. I approached him and rolled the latex back on his hard dick. I got down on my knees and was ready to give him some head. But for some strange reason he stopped me.

“I wanna taste you,” he said.

“You wanna eat me out?” I asked, somewhat confused.

“Yeah.”

He pulled me down onto the bed with him and positioned me on my back, spreading my legs. This was a first, a nigga—a trick at that—wanting to please me. It was his money, so I didn't argue. His chin rested against my pussy's lips and pressed a little into them. His kissing lips were just a breath away from my clit. He placed his tongue against me below; I breathed easily. His hands were strong against my thighs; it felt like he could easily rip me apart with his strength, but he was gentle like a feather.