Tales from da Hood (10 page)

You could never tell what was on Mason's mind. He was unpredictable. Still, Cojack loved the crazy muthafucka. How could he not love someone who would kill for him at the blink of an eye, no questions asked?

Actually, now that he was thinking about it, Cojack knew exactly why he was so devoted to this lunatic. It happened long ago when they were just teenagers. Even as a youngster, Cojack was someone who all the little shorties looked up to. One day he and a group of guys were shooting dice when a royal blue minivan pulled directly across from them and opened fire. The bullets weren't intended for Cojack but he was shot once in the back along with two others. One guy died at the scene from a single shot to the head. While Cojack was in the hospital, Mason, one of his young admirers, saw one of the guys involved and shot him on GP. Cojack and Mason hardly knew each other before then. By the time Cojack was released from the hospital, he'd learned what Mason had done for him. After that incident, they became the best of friends, bonded for life.

“So what you gon’ do about Kenya's baby daddy?” Cojack asked Mason as the two stood away from the crap game, in between two buildings. Cojack was smoking his Black & Mild and Mason his blunt.

“You know how I get down,” Mason said, taking a pull. “You
don't even have to ask me that shit. Muthafuckas gon’ pay. You can best believe that.”

“I know how you can get sometimes. You be doing some ol’ unnecessary shit, so check this out,” Cojack said. “Only go after the guy responsible.”

“Fuck that!” Mason said, looking at Cojack as if he was crazy. “That bitch, Kenya, could have woke a nigga up, warned me or something.”

Cojack sighed. “Promise me, just the dude who did it.”

Mason didn't respond. He just twisted up his lips as if to say,
Yeah, whatever, man.

“Cool?” Cojack said. “You wit’ me on that one?”

Mason just stood there for a moment, then agreed. “Yeah, yeah, I'm wit’ cha and shit, dawg.”

“I don't know why you give a shit bout that bitch Kenya, anyway,” Mason said. “You got a soft spot for the females, huh?” Mason began to snicker. “Speaking of females, that cutie, Robbin, rode through earlier and asked about you.”

“Oh, word?” Cojack said, nodding his head, thinking he'd have to catch up with her.

Before Mason could respond, the conversation was cut short as a squad car came cruising by with two white officers flashing what they hoped were intimidating stares. Police got a kick out of the fear they saw in the dealers when they arrived. That was Cojack's cue. He jumped in his ride the minute they were out of sight. He was constantly harassed by the law, especially the ones who knew him by face. The ones who often stopped him just to say hello.

Cojack decided to go check out Robbin. It took him twenty-five minutes to reach Willow Oaks Apartments, where Robbin lived. As Cojack punched in the code, the gate ascended into the air. He drove through, made a left, slowed for a speed bump, and then
rode another ten or fifteen yards where he parked beside Robbin's gold J30.

Cojack got out of his car and headed toward Robbin's apartment. He immediately noticed Robbin standing on the balcony. The mere sight of her brought a smile to his face. She was absolutely stunning, standing five feet six inches with skin the color of cinnamon.

“Hey, sexy,” Cojack yelled up to her.

“Right back at ya,” Robbin said. She walked into her apartment and went to the front door so that she could greet Cojack. By the time he got to her apartment, she was standing in the doorway waiting on him. Her skimpy shorts and sports bra, revealing a set of firm nipples, aroused him instantly as he stepped toward her and kissed her gently on the lips.

They had met six months ago at a party Mason hosted at Pier 7 Night Club for Cojack's birthday. It was in the VIP section that Mason led the attractive female to his friend and introduced them. They hung out a few times and had been good friends ever since. Robbin was real cool, and out of all the women he was involved with, she was the most fun. For one, she never asked for anything other than his time, which was a plus. She had her own car and her own place. Baby girl had it going on. Plus she had the prettiest smile, not to mention a body that could stop traffic.

She led him into her bedroom. The only light came from the television. Robbin smiled as Cojack kicked off his Wallies and sat down on the bed.

“Did you have fun in Myrtle Beach?” she asked, standing there smiling at him.

“Yeah, it was a'ight,” he responded as if it wasn't a big deal.

“How many hos did you fuck?” Robbin had a way with words and always spoke her mind.

“Girl, you say anything out yo mouth. Why you gon’ ask me somethin’ like that?”

“Stop frontin'. I know how y'all niggas do. Bike week ain't nothin’ but a freak fest.” Robbin had seen a lot in her twenty-seven years and had been to the event on numerous occasions. She knew all too well about the nude women and freak parties. But none of it really mattered to her. She did her thang on the side every now and then and she figured the less fuss she made with Cojack, the less fuss he would make with her. But she enjoyed teasing him nonetheless. Cojack was her boo.

“Girl, why you looking all crazy? You high, ain't chu?” It was more of a statement than a question.

“Of course I am,” she answered with a bit of a slur in her tone. “You know how I do.” She bent down and began unfastening his belt. “I'm horny, too,” she said in a husky voice. “Why you got on all these clothes? You know what I want.”

Cojack doubled over in laughter as she continued to talk shit about how horny she had gotten while waiting on him. Robbin was on fire. Her juices oozed through her pink lace panties around her crotch and down her inner thigh. It was that way whenever he came near. Cojack dragged on his cigar as she kneeled down in front of him. She unbuttoned his belt and unzipped his Guess jeans, pushing them down to the floor.

“Lay back,” she instructed, retrieving the cigar from his hand. Robbin motioned to the dresser and was back with a folded dollar bill. She pulled out his dick and began caressing it and watching it grow in her hand. Robbin licked her lips while sprinkling a white substance on the tip of his head. Cojack looked up at her curiously.

“Shorty, what the hell you up to?” he asked.

“Just lay back and let me drive this car. I wanna try something new.” He observed the powder on his penis and shook his head.
He'd heard that freaks put coke on the dick to numb it up, but just 'cause he sold it didn't mean he ever tried it.

“Now just relax,” she said as she commenced to licking the head of his cock until the substance was gone. She then let her tongue travel up and down the length of his penis, watching it swell. A deep sigh escaped from Cojack as he felt his muscle go deep inside her mouth, the head touching the back of her throat. Robbin was now sucking hard, and from the look on Cojack's face, it was evident he was enjoying himself. She had never sucked his dick so good before. Robbin could feel the bitter cocaine taste in her mouth, which only turned her on more. Drenched with the excitement, she slid out of her shorts and panties, kissed his head, and hopped on his dick. In minutes she was moaning and screaming out his name.

“Baby, damn! It is sooo good. Aw oh I missed this dick,” she exclaimed in an emotional outburst.

“Shit!” he responded as convulsions shook him. “Damn, boo. I'm ready to come,” Cojack gasped and took hold of her shoulders, slamming every inch of his meat in her.

“No, Cojack, no. Please don't,” she cooed. “Not yet, baby.” Robbin felt his body tremble beneath her as a mother lode of seed filled her insides. She rode him faster, determined to get what she'd been longing for the whole night.

“Naw, you not getting soft on me,” she said, her voice full of disappointment. She was angry and out of breath. “Shit!” she cursed and collapsed on top of him as he slipped out of her wet coochie. “I can't believe you did this to me again.” She stared at him, waiting for an explanation. Cojack returned a dumbfounded look.

“Damn you!” She rolled off of him. “What's wrong with you? Why can't you stay hard, Cojack?” she said angrily.

He sat up, pulling at his member as if it would rise to the occasion.

“Damn, shorty, I don't know what the fuck is up.”

“You not leaving me like this,” she stated with a pout. He knew she was serious but couldn't help laughing.

“What the hell so funny?” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “I don't see shit funny. I'm sick of this shit,” she stated in a fury. “Cojack, I told you what you need to do,” she added, slightly blushing.

“Shorty, you should already know the answer to that. I don't get down like that.”

“It ain't gon’ hurt you, Cojack, dag. I been doing it for years and ain't nothin’ happened.” She pulled at his limp dick. “Baby, please. I need it so bad.”

“Before I sniff dope, I'll get a bottle of ginseng,” Cojack stated, laughing in a way that only infuriated her more.

“That shit don't even work! Live a little, boo. I know you'll like it. Just this once,” Robbin begged.

What the hell is wrong with me? he wondered as he gazed at her disappointed look. Cojack hated the fact that he couldn't stay up after busting a nut. It was this way with all his female friends, but Robbin was the first to ever complain. She continued to nag him about the dope. Cojack shook his head, but in his mind he was seriously contemplating the idea. She had some good pussy and he wanted nothing more than to give her what she needed. She began kissing between his thighs, enticing him with long broad licks up his dick.

“Please, boo, just one time,” she said, nibbling on the base of his shaft. “Don't I always give you what you want? I always please you, Cojack.”

Ain't this a bitch! As much as he tried, he couldn't resist anylonger. His eyes gazed over her perfectly shaped buns as she lay there blowing him. He knew a lot of cats would call this a straight-up sucker move, which he could not dispute. But tonight it didn't even matter. His only concern was knocking sparks from Robbin's
fine ass for about two or three hours straight. “Fuck it,” he finally said. “Where that shit at?”

She gave him a rolled-up dollar bill and some white powder. Without even looking at it, Cojack snorted.

“Damn, baby, that wasn't no coke,” he said, sniffing.

“No,” she said. She explained that it was heroin and that it would make him stay hard longer. At first Cojack was mad. It was one thing to snort a little coke, but he would never do something as stupid as sniffing heroin. But it was too late now, and with Robbin sucking his knob he didn't seem to care anymore. Everything just felt good—real good.

THE
NEXT DAY
Cojack had important business to take care of. He had to meet a couple of his best customers and unload some product. The love for Cojack in the projects was tremendous. Under him were a gang of loyal adolescents who would do anything he asked without question. In a way he kind of felt responsible for his foot soldiers, because he had taken on such an authoritative role in their lives. He was the father of those who didn't have one. Aside from the hustlers, he really prided himself on the little kids who dwelled in the small confines of the ghetto. They were so precious, so innocent. He invested a lot of time in them.

Every other weekend he was taking them somewhere. Last week it was the Skateland, the girls’ choice, of course. He'd rent three or four utility vehicles and squeeze as many children as he could in them and move out. It didn't take long for his partners to get involved after noticing how much attention they received from females as a result of their good deeds. King's Dominion was the
most fun. In fact, Cojack had met many of the girls he was seeing when he was out with the kids. It warmed his heart to know their mothers trusted him the way they did. Most of them were single parents who were more than happy to see someone like Cojack doing nice things for their kids. A lot of the mothers were fiends and too high to keep up with their kids anyway. Cojack knew this and was saddened at times.

It was a warm Sunday afternoon, a perfect day for a cookout. Bellmeade Community Center was swarming with project kids. The parking lot was filled with cars and so was the street. Cojack had outdone himself as always. He had purchased pounds of hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken for the grill. There were dozens of coolers full of soda and juice, as well as bag after bag of chips and cookies.

He and David, the event coordinator, were good friends. Over the years Cojack had donated money toward team uniforms and football equipment. At least twice a month they would get together and do something nice for the inner-city youth. Some of the mothers even volunteered to come out and assist with the cooking.

Several picnic tables were set up on the basketball court. The grills were burning and the place was swarming with folks happily indulging themselves in the free food and drinks. Alcohol was not allowed, at least not on the premises. But every now and then Mason, Fisher, and a few guys would dip off from the crowd for a quick sip of a forty and a chronic break. Cojack was too involved with the kids to think about dippin’ off even for a second.

“Yo, little man,” Cojack called to one of the boys who played on the football team.

“What's up, Cojack,” the youngen said as he gave Cojack a five.

“What's been up? How are things going?”

“Things is cool.”

“What about school? How's your grades?”

“They a'ight,” the boy answered.

“A'ight don't get you in college,” Cojack said in a serious tone. “A'ight don't get you out the hood. You know what I'm saying, little man?”

The boy put his head down and nodded. “I'm just having problems with math is all. I can't do those fractions and shit.” Cojack sighed. “I mean stuff.”

Cojack stood there and thought for a minute. “What if you had a tutor? Would that help you out?”

The boy laughed and sucked his teeth. “My moms ain't got no money for no tutor.”

“I didn't ask you all that, now did I? If you had a tutor would that help you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” the boy said, shrugging his shoulders.