The Dopeman's Wife: Part I of the Dopeman Trilogy (12 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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He made sure not to let Lola see too much. She’d told him about Tical’s business within their first hour of talking, so he knew she had loose lips. He’d never had sex with her, but her head game was crazy. So he showed his appreciation by cashing her out many times in just that short time that they’d met.
Excited about the thought of knocking Tical off, Bear had promised Lola a trip to Hawaii. That’s why he had a bag full of money and two round-trip plane trips in the back of his truck. So they’d be thousands of feet in the air, drinking bubbly, and on their way to the island right after he took care of business. His only regret, though, was forgetting his “lucky” pistol, a gold-plated 9 mm with his initials engraved on it.
“All right, you ready?” Bear cocked his gun back and took another look at Tical’s home.
“Are you sure he’s in there?” Lola popped her gum loudly and ghetto.
“Yeah, I just saw him walk to the door. He’s in there for sure.” Bear kept his eyes on the place.
The plan was for Lola to walk to the door and ask Tical, could she use his phone because her car had broke down nearby, and when he let her in, she would pull the gun on him. Then Bear would come in and take over from there. He needed Lola to get him through the door.
Bear felt warm inside, thinking he had manipulated her mind so quick, and her being so beautiful only boosted his already gigantic ego.
“Okay, you still got that gun I gave you, right?”
“Yeah, I got it right here.” Lola reached into her purse and pulled out the small-caliber gun.
“Cool, cool. Look, ring the doorbell, and when he answer, you do what I told you to do. Once you get in, peep his spot. If he ain’t strapped and alone, pull yo’ shit out and then call me. I’ma be right outside, ready to come in, baby. After I get in, you can come out and wait for me in the car.” Bear reached over and gave Lola a peck on the cheek.
“I got you, daddy.” Lola hopped out the truck and pulled down her skirt, which was riding her.
Just as she reached the driveway, heading toward the house, Bear peeped his rearview mirror and saw the delivery man walking on the sidewalk and onto Tical’s property with a package in his hand, which meant he was about to knock on Tical’s door and mess up plans. Bear had to think quick. He rolled down his window and called for the man, while Lola walked up the driveway toward the front door. She didn’t even notice the mailman walking a few feet behind her.
Bear stuck his head out of the window. “Yo’! I’m right here.”
The mailman did a 180 and began walking to the truck. Oh, hello, Mr. Manny. I need you to sign off for the package.”
The mailman had his hat pulled down tight and didn’t even look up. He was looking at the package to make sure he had the right address. As he pat his pockets in search for a pen, Bear held out his hand for the package.
The delivery man looked up, displaying his face. It was Gunplay disguised as a UPS worker. He dropped the box and pressed his chrome .45-pistol to Bear’s neck. “Surprise, mu’fucka!”
Tical sat back behind his red oak desk in his oversized leather office chair taking deep puffs of his Kush weed. He inhaled, held his head back, and slowly blew smoke circles into the air, thinking about the phone call he’d just received from Gunplay Murdock. He knew that Bear would eventually jump stupid and fall right into his trap. He heard noises coming from the front room and immediately knew who it was.
Moments later Gunplay, Bear, and a woman entered the room, joining him. Bear had his hands in the air as Gunplay dug his gun into Bear’s neck directing him to the chair that sat directly in front of Tical.
The woman walked over to Tical and pecked him on the cheek. “Hey, Tical.” She shot a hateful stare at Bear.
“What up, Millie? You good?” Tical gave her a welcoming smile. He then focused his attention back on Bear, who looked like he’d seen a ghost.
“Yeah, I’m good now. This bitch-ass nigga is disgusting. I don’t know how much longer I could’ve fronted like I was feeling this clown.” Millie wanted to spit, thinking about what she had to do to gain Bear’s trust.
Millie was a down-ass bitch. She’d swallowed the enemy’s cum for her team, which was totally out of her character, but she did it for the good of her team. She reduced herself to a groupie whore just to get close to Bear. She would never tell Tical that she hit him off in the car, but she did what she had to do to hold down her part.
“You dirty-ass bitch!” Bear barked, his head cocked to the side because Gunplay dug the barrel into his temple.
Gunplay whacked Bear in the back of the head with his pistol. “Watch ya mouth.” He sat in the chair next to him, gun still pointed at Bear’s head.
Tical sat back relaxed and calm as he and Millie chuckled at the look on Bear’s face. Bear was totally floored. He thought he was plotting on Tical, but he was the one getting plotted on. Tical took his time putting the blunt out and folded both of his hands together. He stared intently at Bear. “Why, Bear? Why, nigga? I let you eat!” Tical said, more intense with every word, but his tone still low. He couldn’t understand how Bear let his pride get in the way of making paper. “You’re in this shit for the wrong reason, fam. You couldn’t stand the fact that”—Tical picked up the bottle of Hennessy, poured a small amount into a glass, and took the shot effortlessly—“you’re not me.” He released a menacing smile and sat the glass on his coaster.
“Man, it—”
Tical placed his index finger on his lip. “Shh,” cutting Bear off. Tical stared into Bear’s eyes. “You know what the problem is? There are too many chiefs, not enough Indians. The only thing you had to do was to play your position and get rich. But you didn’t want that, you wanted this.” Tical opened his hands toward Bear.
“What was I supposed to do? Huh? You was telling me how to cut my dope and trying to tell me how to run my business.”
“Nigga, it wasn’t yo’ dope. It was my product! Nigga, you worked for me, if you wanted to or not. You got to stepping on the dope, making it not worth shit, throwing dirt on my name. Matter of fact, why am I’m explaining to this nigga.”
Tical grabbed the remote that sat on his desk and turned on the surround sound CD player, pumping the sounds of Jay-Z’s “Can I Live” throughout the room. Everyone began to slowly bob their head to the melodic violins serenading the room, except for Bear.
Tical closed his eyes and enjoyed the street classic. He thought about how much the song closely reflected his life in the streets.
Bear grew a confused look on his face when he saw them bobbing their heads. Little did he know, Tical didn’t turn the music up loud to enjoy the song, he did it so the neighbors wouldn’t hear the gunshot blast that was only seconds away.
“Gunplay, show ’em what you got.” Tical got up from his chair and walked away, and Millie followed close behind.
When the loud blast echoed through the house, neither Millie nor Tical flinched a muscle. They knew Gunplay had rocked him to sleep with a slug to the face.
Boom!
REAL BITCHES DO REAL THINGS: MEET MILLIE
Chapter Fifteen
Millian, aka Millie, flopped on her bed and stared at the ceiling. She was glad the little charade was over and that Bear was finally gone. She hated pretending that she had interest in him. She’d heard that Bear was talking slick about Tical, and she volunteered to approach him. At first Tical rejected the idea, being overprotective of Millie and all, but after a week, she’d persuaded him to see things her way. She understood that Bear wasn’t easy to touch, but she knew the fastest way to a man is in between his legs.
Millie promised that she wouldn’t sleep with Bear, just tease him until the right time. She felt that it would be the smarter approach, rather than Tical sending his soldiers to kill Bear and risk taking loses. But Bear was a street nigga just as well as Tical, so Millie knew she had to be extra cautious. Her method worked like a charm.
“That nigga was so irritating,” she said referring to Bear. She sat up and looked around the room that she used to call home. Tical had left it just the way it was, not moving or touching anything. She missed staying there because she always felt safe with him.
She picked up the picture with Tical and herself that sat on her nightstand and smiled, looking at the only man she’d ever loved. She secretly was in love with Tical and admired everything about him. Tical had never looked at her like more than a little sister, but she frequently dreamed about being his woman. “I love you, Tical,” she whispered as she studied the pictures.
Tical appeared in the doorway. “I love you too, lil sis.”
Millie heard his low, raspy voice. She smiled and quickly put away the picture. “Boy, you better stop running up on me like you crazy. You scared me. I could have popped you.” She scooted over so he could sit next to her.
“Pop me? With what? You ain’t even strapped. You got your little hot girl outfit on,” Tical pulled at her skimpy halter top. He wasn’t used to seeing her in sexy clothing. She was more of a down dresser, staying fresh in the latest gear, but she wasn’t into skirts or dresses. Usually she’d be sporting the newest tight-fitting velour hookup or nice-looking jogging suits.
Millie reached under her skirt and pulled out the small .22 Tical had purchased for her for her eighteenth birthday. “I keep one, fam. You didn’t know.”
They both laughed.
“You crazy. You know that?”
Tical observed the young lady he’d molded since she was fifteen. Only eight years her senior, he had witnessed her grow from a girl to a woman over the past five years.
“Well, you taught me to keep one on me at all times, so just because I’m wearing this bullshit doesn’t mean I don’t stick to the script.” She walked over to her closet and pulled off her shirt, only having on a bra.
Tical didn’t look, out of respect, and had no desire to. “Thanks for doing that, though. That was some real shit you did.” He looked at the missed calls on his phone.
“Stop playing, Tical. You know I’m down for the team. I just had to put work in, ya know,” she said as she slid on a small Roca wear T-shirt.
“No doubt.” Tical nodded his head up and down.
“So you want to go the bar and watch the game tonight? Ravens are going to whoop the Packers ass.” Millie slid her pants on under her skirt before finally taking her skirt off. She kept her eyes on Tical, hoping he would look, but he never did. He always was respectful to her, and that’s why she loved him so much.
She glanced at the tattoo in small cursive letters right above her breast—T-I-C-A-L. She had gotten it without him knowing. She would never tell him about it, because she didn’t get it for him, she got it for herself, to remind her how much he’d done for her, and changed her life for the better. She would be forever loyal to him.
“Not this week, Millie. I’m going to the luxury box tonight. You should come,” Tical said, his attention on his phone.
Millie was kind of disappointed, but she didn’t let it show. They would always watch the game with each other on Sunday. Being around Tical and Gunplay so much, she became a devoted football fan also.
“Oh, okay. You got a business meeting or something?”.
“Naw, I’m taking a friend up to the box. Just to chill.” Tical watched as Millie brushed her hair in the mirror into a tight ponytail pulled straight back. Her back was turned toward him. He glanced at her plump ass and slender figure.
Damn! Millie growing up
. She was slim, dark, and was attractive to many men. But he couldn’t see himself looking at her in that light and quickly erased the notion out of his mind. He focused his eyes on hers through the mirror.
“A friend? So you must be feeling this friend, huh?”
“She’s cool. It ain’t nothing like that. We just are going to hang out.” Tical rubbed his facial hair. “What happened to you and ol’ boy?”
“Oh, you talking about Banks? That nigga was a lame. I had to let him go. I hate a nigga that suffocate you. He had a problem with me getting money out here too. He couldn’t stand that I had more clout in the streets than him.”
Millie plopped on the bed next to Tical. She really left the guy because in her eyes no one else compared to Tical. No matter who she dated, they never could stimulate her mind and make her feel the way he did. She always said if she fell in love, it would be with a man just like Tical. She had to get a replica, because she knew she never could have Tical.
“Well, you know how dominant you are.” Tical stood up. “You probably was rubbing it all in his face, trying to be boss.”
“I am boss, nigga.” Millie grinned.
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Tical said sarcastically. “Yo’, I’m about to call the cleaners to clean up the mess, but are we still on for Friday right?” The “cleaners” was a nickname for the funeral home workers he had on payroll to dispose of the dead bodies his team created.
“Yep, wouldn’t miss it for anything,” Millie said, referring to the Friday brunches they’d been having for five years straight. No matter how far away they were from each other, they never missed that meeting. When she was fifteen, Tical promised her that Friday would always be theirs and he hadn’t broken that promise to her yet.
Millie watched as Tical faded into the darkness of the hallway, and she smiled, totally in love with his swagger. She lay on the bed and thought about when they first met. He was the first person to ever show any love for her. She owed her life to him.
 
Five years earlier
 
“Yeah, you black bitch. Squeeze my ass.” The overweight white trucker pounded the young girl who lay on this cot in the back of his truck.
Millie closed her eyes and moaned, pretending to enjoy the small red penis that went in and out of her.
He needs to hurry up.
She momentarily opened her eyes and saw the man’s mouth wide open and drool threatening to fall. She gripped his sweaty butt, and he began to pump faster and faster, until he finally exploded into the condom. He grunted and gave her one last deep thrust before rolling off.
Millie quickly sat up and began to put on her clothes, which were on the side of the cot. She wanted to get out of the smelly truck, so she could get back to her post and make more money. Fully clothed, she looked at the man, who panted heavily and stared into space as if he was in a dream.
“Run it, big daddy,” she demanded in her heavy New York accent. She held out her hand and began moving her fingers, signaling for him to pay up.
He reached into his boot and pulled out a wad of money. He peeled off a fifty-dollar bill and tossed it to her. “There you go, Sunshine,” he said, as he stuffed his money back into his boot.
“Thanks, honey.” Millie smiled. She rubbed the man’s limp penis and stood up, straightening up her clothes and licking her lips sexily. She put the fifty into her purse and closed it. “So when am I’m going to see you again, baby? You got some good dick.”
The man, still on his back and naked, stared at her and smiled. “Well, I have to drop off a shipment to North Carolina, and I should be heading back this way in a week or so.” He sat up and slipped on his grungy white briefs.
“Well, I’ll be right here waiting for you, big boy,” she said, egging him on.
“You’re always at this truck stop?” He thought about getting another shot of the sweet thing he’d just pounded. The truckstop was in a huge parking lot that also had a diner that truckers from all around the country frequented.
“Yep, just about every day. I’ll be waiting for you, too. It’s hard to find a good fuck in this business, ya know.” Millie watched him eat up every word. “Well, I’m about to get out of here. You have a safe trip, and make sure you stop and see me on your way back.” She began to walk backwards to the front cab of the truck. She tripped and fell over his big boots that sat in the middle of the floor.
“Are you okay?”
“Whew! Yeah, I’m okay.” Millie, an embarrassed look on her face, scrambled to pick up her purse. She moved the boots out of her way and got back up. “That was humiliating.” She smugly smiled and then headed out. “Come back and see me now!”
“I sure will, honey.”
Millie stepped out the truck and hurried to the rest stop. She looked down at the wad of money in her hands that she’d just lifted from his boots.
She flipped through the bills as she walked briskly toward the diner just a few hundred feet from her. “Hell yeah, this looks about five hundred dollars.” She kept looking back at the truck, hoping she would have time to get away before he discovered he’d just been robbed.
Although Millie was only fifteen, she had the wits and savvy of a full-grown woman. Just looking at her, no one would guess that she was underage. Her body was plump in all the right places, and she conducted herself like a seasoned veteran.
She’d been working the streets for her pimp stepfather ever since she started to grow breasts. Her mother’s husband had been in the pimping game for years. Millie’s mother had overdosed when she was only twelve. She quickly began to see her stepfather’s true colors after her mother passed. It didn’t take long for him to introduce her to the family business.
Close to the diner now, she looked back one more time to make sure he wasn’t coming for her and that the coast was clear. Once she didn’t see him, she pushed open the doors and took a deep breath. The only thing on her mind was copping a fix with the dealer posted in the back of the diner. But she only had a few minutes before her stepfather would come to check up on her. She also had to worry about the trucker finding out what she’d done and coming for her.
Millie’s stepfather had introduced her to heroin just months before. She loved the warm sensation of the drug crawling up her vein and giving her a dope fiend lean, and it seemed like her pain went away when she was high off the drug. When the magic of the drug entered her veins it made her feel invincible and without a care in the world. Just the way she thought life should be.
She saw the dark-skinned guy with a baseball cap on sitting in the back of the diner, as he always did. She hurried over to him and peeled off a twenty from the wad she’d just lifted. She sat across from him as he casually read a newspaper. She cleared her throat to get his attention.
“How much?” he said, his eyes still on the paper.
She looked at the door. “A twenty pack.”
“You know you’re too young to be fucking with this shit?” He shook his head from side to side.
“Nigga, quit with the bullshit. You want this money or not?” Millie thought he was picking the wrong time to contest her drug habit, especially since she had copped from him dozens of times. “So, nigga, do you?” She pushed the twenty toward him.
The man looked up and scanned the room. He folded his newspaper and sat it on top of the money. He discreetly picked up the money from under the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. He then put his hands on his lap, as did Millie, and gave her the small baggie under the table.
Millie smiled and headed out the back door and into the porta-potty that sat in the back of the place, her get-high spot.
Tical scanned the parking lot as he sat in a black S-10 pickup truck. He tried his best to look like a farmer with his bucket fishing hat and plaid shirt. He glanced at his clock and sucked his teeth. “Where this dude at?”
Tical had $60,000 dollars in the bag next to him to buy three kilos of coke and had been waiting for thirty minutes for his connect. He had laced the piles of haystacks in the back bed of the truck with pepper, to throw off police dogs, and had planned on stuffing the coke into precut compartments in the haystacks, so he could return back to B-more undetected.
“That’s why I don’t like fucking with this New York nigga,” he said to himself. He saw a young dark-skinned girl hurry past his car and into the diner. He was just about ready to leave when he saw his man Red pull up in a red Lexus with black tint. “This nigga stupid!” He hated that Red had the audacity to bring a flashy car to their exchange and regretted doing business with him.
As Red parked the car, Tical peeped his surroundings. He grabbed the bag and stepped out of the car, headed over to Red. Just then, he saw a heavyset man with just some tight white underwear on attire yelling obscenities as he stepped out his eighteen-wheeler. The man’s eyes danced around the parking lot.

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