The Pussy Trap
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Wahida Clark Presents Publishing, LLC
60 Evergreen Place
Suite 904
East Orange, New Jersey 07018
973-678-9982
Copyright 2011 © by Ne Ne Capri
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
ISBN 13-digit 978-0-982841488
ISBN 10-digit
0-9828414-8-5
Library of Congress Catalog Number 2011917469
Urban, New Jersey, New York, Bronx, Brooklyn, Orange, NJ, African-American, Street Lit – Fiction
Cover design and layout by Oddball Design
Book interior design by Nuance Art
Contributing Editors: VIP Editing and Rosalind Hamilton
Printed in United States
Green & Company Printing, LLC
Dedication
This project is dedicated to My Princess Khairah. Everything I do is for you. Mommy loves you.
Acknowledgements
All the thanks must first go to the most high that gives me the strength to do all things. I cannot go forward without thanking My Beloved, you made me a woman, thank you.
To my grandmother Sarah, you gave me unconditional, selfless love without judgment I miss you, R.I.P Nana. To my Uncle Nigee you are more like a dad then an uncle thanks for being there. To My dad Hasan, you are one of the strongest men I know; you taught me what a man is thank you for all your sacrifices. Mommy, your daughter is about to be a Lawyer, I could not have done it without you. To my little brother Ralphie “IRoka” you my baby I love you we will always have the wooden wall.
To Mrs. Wahida Clark, you are a strong, dedicated woman whose word is strong as oak you do what you say, thanks for being the woman you are. Nobel you have got me through so much I am blessed you are in my life. Wahida aka “Nuance” your brilliant. Hasana I admire you. To My best friend’s Tiko and Tiombe we have been through the fire, thank you for all the memories and the bond that can never be broken AT&T forever. Chucky you know you my big brother. Princess you are the sister I never had love you, these chicks better be glad you hung up your gloves. Mooka can’t wait for my baby Kiss the Smiling One (Boobie), Khair my son, Nagee capricorn, Shawn, Sabrina, Qadir and Jawhar, Bruce, Kim Rashad love you. Aunt Jackie My Queen you keep us together. Love you Uncle Neval.
To the Rest of my family: Keisha Steel “my sister” you a genius girl. My little sister Angel “Cherry” my baby girl you are my motivation I pray you become the beautiful woman you are destined to be. My cousins, Nikki and Moreen love you. My big Brother Malik “Whip Wop” Williams I miss you boy. Mrs. Wright I will never forget all that you have done for me love you R.I.P. My girls Shamell, Trice, Tanisha, Lynn, Tracey, Candy. R.I.P Bizzy, Mugsy, Tez, Red, Darell, Derik, Velour, ReRe, Anthony (lil’ cousin), “Antlive”, and all fallen Soldier’s of 107 Wilson Pl., 108 Parrow St. and 339 Mechanic St. If I missed you charge it to the head and not the heart.
To my spiritual family: it is our trials that has made us who we are, we must be grateful for each one; the blessing we are promised are going to be so plentiful we will not be able to receive them. Street Team: Omar, Jabar, Razzaq, Shahid, and Hadiyah. WCP Authors: Ca$h, Mike Sanders, Intelligent Allah, Anthony Fields, Tash Hawthorn, Missy Jackson, Serenity Hall, Victor L. Martin, Rashawn Hughs, Mike Jerfferies. WCP “Divas” you hold us down. Davida you did your thing with this cover.
Shout out to DC Book Diva, Laquita of The Literary Joint, Horizon Books, Black and Nobel Books, T. Styles and the Cartel and all the authors, graphic artist and supports of the written word we salute you. All the authors who love this craft and make a difference “The pen is the limit.”
Chapter 1
Sadeek crept in the house at 4 a.m. trying not to wake Keisha. He lay on the couch and put one of his legs on the arm rest. He had just begun to doze off when he was awakened by an ice cold shower.
“What the fuck?” Sadeek jumped up and tried to adjust his sight as water and ice cubes fell to the floor.
“Yeah, muthafucka. You think you can just walk in my fucking house at four o’clock in the gotdamn morning and just lay your head down and go to sleep?” Keisha was pissed off. She was starting to hate even the thought of Sadeek.
“I was taking care of some shit. You lucky I ain’t jump up and slap the shit out of you!” he yelled, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a few paper towels. Keisha was right on his heels, her black silk nighty and robe flying in the breeze.
“Yeah right, muthafucka! You ain’t that crazy. But, you got to go,” she yelled, slamming the empty cup on the counter.
“Go where? Why the fuck is you trippin’ at four o’clock in the fucking mornin’?” He brushed past Keisha almost knocking her into the stove. She quickly caught her balance and followed him back into the living room.
“I don’t give a fuck what time it is or where you go. I can make a suggestion though. Start with the bitch whose pussy you just climbed out of. Go back and knock on her fucking door!” Kiesha stood in the middle of the room with hands on her hips. Lips twisted, eyes squinted, and breathing heavy.
“I wasn’t with no bitch. I was taking care of business.” Sadeek's voice got louder. He fidgeted with his ring, avoiding eye contact as was his habit when he was lying his ass off.
“Look, I can’t take this shit no more. You got to get the fuck out. You can leave by will or by force; you draw it up,” Keisha persisted.
Sadeek glanced at Keisha and bit his bottom lip while rubbing his hands together as he tried to calm down. He wanted to knock the shit out of her. His fists were balled up, but he wasn’t crazy. He knew Malik would take his fucking head. More reason for him to hurry up and get rid of this nigga.
“Step lively, muthafucka. And give me my keys.” Keisha held her hand out with major attitude.
Sadeek reluctantly handed her the keys and headed to the door. “I guess you can go back to playing house with Malik.”
“Don’t worry about what the fuck I do with Malik. You just worry about those dirty bitches you stick your dick in.”
Sadeek paused then responded, “If you weren’t so busy giving my pussy to the next nigga, I wouldn’t be fucking other bitches.” He gave Keisha a dirty look and headed out the door, he figured he’d hit his boy Tone’s house.
Keisha shut the door behind him. Sheeit . . . you damn right I’m fucking Malik and his dick is good as hell. He was all up in it the other day. She wiped up the remaining water off the floor. Headed to her bedroom, and hopped in bed. As she drifted off, she mumbled, “Fuck that nigga!”
Sadeek walked in the Peppermint Lounge razor sharp, sporting a pair of crisp dark colored jeans laying on top of his grey Timberland boots, a charcoal grey sweater and a light weight dark blue three quarter leather jacket. His short fade and freshly shaped mustache and goatee enhanced his smooth brown caramel skin. In Sadeek’s world, nobody could tell him shit. As he made his way to the back where Raheem was sitting, niggas were shouting him out while bitches were checking him out. He nodded, shook a few hands, and grabbed a shot of Grey Goose while passing the bar and kept on moving. When he reached Raheem’s table, he could see him dismissing this fine, brown-skinned honey. She saw Sadeek coming and rolled her eyes as she slid out the booth.
“Don’t be salty, shorty,” Sadeek said with a smile. The young woman just kept on going.
“What’s up superstar nigga?” Raheem said as he extended his hand to Sadeek.
“Sheeit. I can’t call it. It’s your world squirrel; I’m just trying to bust a nut,” he said, slapping hands with Raheem. They both busted out laughing as Sadeek slid into the booth. Raheem flagged down the waitress and ordered them some drinks.
Sadeek and Raheem downed their drinks and laughed about Keisha throwing ice-cold water on him in the middle of the night. Retelling the story caused Sadeek's whole mood to change.
“I hate that bitch sometimes,” he spat as he guzzled down his shot of Hennessy then chased it down with a double deuce Heineken.
“What the fuck are you talking about ‘Deek?” Raheem said in a drunken slur.
“Fuckin Keisha!” Sadeek said with a hateful tone.
“Man, get the fuck outta here. You know good and well you love that girl. That’s why your ass sitting up here pouting like a fuckin’ bitch.”
“Fuck you, Rah. She done put me out for the last fucking time.”
“That’s what you said last time. This ain’t the fucking Oprah sofa, nigga. You betta handle that shit,” Raheem said then started laughing.
“On the real, Rah, I think it’s time to make that move.”
“What you talking about?” Raheem asked.
“The way I see it, we been working for that nigga for over ten years and we still make just as much as the new jacks. He charges us like he don’t know us. Shit, the way I figure, we cut out the middleman and we could be making all the money. Just take over this whole fucking city.”
“Nigga, you trippin’.”
“Shit, I ain’t trippin’. What? You scared mu’fucka?”
“Scared? Hell no, I ain’t scared of nothing or no one.” Raheem said giving Sadeek a look that said don’t you ever question my manhood.
“A’ight then. You ready for a fucking war?”
“Hell yeah. At any moment, but for something worth warring over. In that case, I ain’t got no problem with war. I just ain’t trying to go to war over no gotdamn pussy. Especially, if it ain’t pussy that belongs to me.”
“This shit is way past pussy. It’s about principle. That nigga know he fucking owe us. And we ain’t sitting on the side waiting no fucking more. We getting ready to take it. You down or what?”
The next thing that comes out his mouth better be right or he’s going on the list with Malik. Sadeek thought as he stared at Raheem.
