“Fuck is you? Her bodyguard?” Turf huffed. “You acting like I'm forcing her to be here.”
“I wasn't talking to you,” Sosa said coldly. He knew exactly who Turf was, but he could care less about him or his crew. Sosa wasn't about to let his man Bullet little sister be out here acting like a ho, at least not while he was around.
Turf quickly stood to his feet. “Fuck you talking to like that?” he asked, him and Sosa standing nose to nose, both crews on edge and ready to pop off at any second.
Tiffany quickly jumped up in between the two. “I'm leaving,” she said, looking at Sosa. She didn't want to see any bloodshed because of her.
“You don't gotta go nowhere, baby,” Turf told her.
“I'll catch up with you another time.” Tiffany squeezed through the crowd and headed toward the exit.
Turf shook his head. “Damn! All this over a bitch?” he said, trying to get under Sosa's skin.
Sosa sighed loudly as he shook his head and walked back over to his section.
“That's what the fuck I thought!” Turf poured himself another drink and went back to partying.
Sosa went back over to his section and poured himself a drink. He was pissed at how Turf had just tried to disrespect him. If you were on Sosa's team, then you were family. So he was taking it as Turf trying to disrespect one of his family members.
“How you wanna handle this?” Hawk asked as he sat down next to Sosa. He had known Sosa for a long time, so he already knew what his look meant.
Sosa finished his drink before responding. “When they come outside, we going to air this whole shit out.” He grabbed a bottle of Rozay from the bucket of ice and walked over to Lucky. “Yo, I'm out,” he said, giving Lucky dap. “I'ma get up you with later,” Sosa said, as him and crew made their exit.
Once Sosa and his crew left, Turf called Lucky over. “You know that muthafucka?”
“I went to high school with him back in the day,” Lucky said, trying to downplay it. He liked Sosa and didn't want to see the two go head to head.
“Good. 'Cause he was about to get his fuckin' head pounded in,” Turf said, meaning every word.
Turf had noticed that the crowd began getting smaller and smaller. “This bitch starting to die down,” he said.
“You wanna get something to eat when we get up outta here?” Quick asked.
“Um, I do have to go to work in the morning.” Ivy smiled. “But I am kind of hungry,” she said, not wanting the night to end.
Lucky walked up. “Yo, we up outta here.”
Turf and the whole crew got up and headed toward the exit. They had a few girls with them and planned on having an after-party back at a hotel room. This was what they did on a nightly basis.
Turf stepped outside, and the cold slapped him in the face, disrespecting the thin sweater he wore. As soon as they hit the curb, gunshots erupted, and everyone got low to the ground, not wanting to get shot.
Quick grabbed Ivy and pulled her down to the ground. He covered her with his body as he pulled his 9 mm from his waistband and returned fire.
Turf hid behind a parked car as he pulled his .40-cal from his waistband, and Major Pain and Wolf returned fired, making it sound like World War III.
Sosa hung out the passenger window of his truck with his finger pressed down on his TEC-9 hitting anything moving, while Hawk and the rest of his goons did the same thing. Sosa shot women, bouncers, along with a few men from Turf's crew as his truck burned rubber down the street.
Major Pain and Wolf chased after the truck, letting off shots until the truck was no longer in sight. Once the gunfire ceased, Turf and Goliath hopped in the Range Rover and peeled off.
“Come on, we gotta go!” Ivy yelled as she grabbed Quick's hand and led him toward her Dodge Charger that sat parked on the corner.
Quick looked over his shoulder and saw Lucky hop in the Escalade with Wolf and Major Pain. Once he knew Lucky was safe, he hopped in the passenger seat of the Charger. Ivy turned on the car and immediately gunned the engine, leaving the crime scene.
“You a'ight?” Quick asked, looking over at Ivy's body, to see if she was bleeding.
Ivy kept looking through her rearview mirror as she drove, making sure no police was following her. “Yeah, I'm fine.”
“Damn! Slow this muthafucka down,” Quick said, afraid that Ivy would attract police to them with her reckless driving.
“Sorry.” Ivy let up on the gas pedal a bit.
Fifteen minutes later Ivy pulled into her parking spot in front of her apartment. “Well, this is it,” she said, and her and Quick hopped out the car and headed toward the front door.
As soon as the two stepped inside the apartment, they were all over one another. Quick and Ivy kissed as they ripped one another's clothes off, exploring each other's body.
Quick lifted Ivy up, and she quickly wrapped her legs around his waist as they continued to kiss. He carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed, where he fondled her soft breasts.
Ivy kicked off her expensive three-inch heels as she felt Quick snatch off her bra and stuffed one her pierced nipples inside his mouth. She moaned as she felt her juice box began to get extra wet.
After sucking on both her titties, Quick smoothly pulled Ivy's spandex off, revealing her sexy, meaty thighs and calves. He spread her legs wide open and began kissing and licking on her inner thighs, but she got tired of the anticipation and guided his head in the right direction.
Quick licked and sucked all over Ivy's clitoris as he listened to her moan in pleasure. He slipped his finger inside her warm, soaking wet pussy, while he continued to suck and lick all over her clit, forcing her to come for him.
Once Quick had made Ivy come, that made her want the dick even more. Quick rolled on a condom and watched Ivy climb up on top of him, straddling him backwards, cowgirl-style.
“Damn!” Quick moaned as he entered Ivy's walls.
Ivy violently bounced up and down, loving how Quick filled her up and felt inside of her. And he watched as Ivy's ass bounced up and down against his torso.
Quick smacked her ass as he began talking shit. “That's right. Ride this dick,” he said, smacking her ass again. “I want you to come all over this dick.”
Ivy's moans became louder and louder. The more she moaned, the harder and faster she bounced.
“Oooh shit!” Quick groaned as he exploded. “Damn!” he said, breathing heavily.
Ivy crawled up toward Quick and kissed him on the lips. “Thank you,” she said, and she got up and hopped in the shower.
Quick got up from off the bed and followed Ivy inside the bathroom and joined her in the shower. There, they took turns washing each other up before they got out and hopped in the bed. Minutes later, the both of them were knocked out.
“Here We Go Again”
Tiffany hopped out the shower feeling good. The way she was living was disgusting and horrible, but she simply told herself, “It could always be worse.” She looked in the mirror and smiled. She was starting to like what she was seeing. She no longer had bruises or black eyes, and she was finally able to see her true beauty.
Another reason she was feeling good was because she finally had some money. Since she had been away from Blake, she had managed to save up $1,600, the most money she had seen at one time, except for when she got her income tax check.
Tiffany danced around her room as she got ready for work. Everything was good, until she heard a knock at her room door. Instantly she knew it could it only have been one person.
“Come in,” she yelled.
Brenda entered her daughter's room with an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth. “Let your mother borrow forty dollars,” she said with her hand out. “I know you got it.”
“You don't know what I got,” Tiffany capped back, not liking the way her mother came at her.
“I know you got something,” Brenda said, looking Tiffany up and down. “You go out this house every muthafuckin' day. Shit, you better have something.”
Tiffany didn't feel like arguing, so she gave Brenda the forty dollars just to get her up out of her face.
All I need is two more weeks, and I'm up outta here,
she thought to herself as she finished getting dressed. Then she headed out the door before Brenda could ask her for anything else.
Tiffany made it to work with a smile on her face. She couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy in a long time. Ever since Blake had been out of her life, she was stress and worry-free.
As she walked over toward her sections, she spotted the handsome man she had seen a few weeks back. “How you gentlemen doing today?” she asked with a bright smile. “Can I get y'all something to drink to start off with?”
Quick smiled. The last time he and Lucky were there, he didn't remember the waitress looking him dead in his eyes when she spoke. He was actually waiting for her eyes to drop down to the floor, but when they didn't, he was kind of taken by surprise.
“Yeah, I'll take a orange juice, thanks,” he said as the two kept eye contact for a few seconds longer.
Tiffany turned and faced Lucky. “And you?”
“I'll take a orange juice too,” Lucky replied.
Once Tiffany walked away, Lucky got down to business. “Turf called and said he got our first job for us.”
“Word?”
“Yeah,” Lucky replied. “This is our chance to earn our keep around here, so whatever we have to do, we gonna have to go overboard.”
“Don't we always?”
Quick smiled as Tiffany returned with their drinks. Him and Lucky quickly placed their orders then got back down to business.
“You think we going to have to clap something?” Quick asked.
Lucky shrugged nonchalantly. “Probably.” The truth was, he didn't care what they had to do. As long as they were getting paid, Lucky was down.
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Blake pulled up to Tiffany's job and hopped out of his car with a serious attitude. He slammed his car door and walked inside the restaurant. He skipped right past the hostess and immediately spotted Tiffany carrying two plates in her hand. He walked right to her and smacked both of the plates out of her hand then wrapped his hands around her throat as he hemmed her up against the wall, trying to choke the life out of her right there in the restaurant.
“Bitch, you thought you could get away from me?” Blake growled as he squeezed even tighter. “You belong to me!” he growled through clenched teeth. “As soon as you get off, you better bring your muthafuckin' ass straight home!” And he tossed Tiffany down to the floor.
“Hey, is everything all right over here?” a white waiter asked as he looked at Tiffany laying down on the floor.
Blake quickly stole on the white boy, dropping him with one punch. “Fuck you mean, is everything all right?” he yelled, looking down at the unconscious man. He then turned and snatched Tiffany back up to her feet by her shirt. “Don't make me have to come up here again,” he warned.
Just as Blake was about to smack the shit out of her, Quick caught his hand before he could even bring it down. “Fuck is you doing?” he said, pushing him away from Tiffany.
“Nigga, don't put your fuckin' hands on me. Is you crazy?” Blake puffed up. He knew his chances of winning in a fistfight with Quick weren't good, and he also knew that Quick was more than likely strapped, but he had to save face.
“You wanna get busy?” Quick removed his 9 mm from his waistline right there in the restaurant, all the while glaring at Blake.
Before Blake could say another word, Quick smacked the shit out of him in front of everybody.
Blake touched his lip, and his hand came away bloody. He smiled as he nodded his head up and down. “I'ma see you again,” he said as he backed out of the restaurant, never taking his eyes off Quick.
“I ain't hard to find,” Quick said confidently, sticking his ratted back down in his waistband. He then turned his attention on Tiffany. “You a'ight?”
“Yes,” Tiffany said as the tears flowed down her face. She knew if she didn't go back home to Blake, he would definitely be back again at her job again the following day. Then she wouldn't even have a job. But now if she did go back to him, he was sure to whip her ass, especially since Quick had embarrassed him in front of her.
“Was that your boyfriend?” Quick asked when he noticed Tiffany wouldn't stop crying. Right then and there he knew that something serious was going on in her life.
Before Quick could say another word, Mr. Richardson came from the back. “What the hell is going on out here?”
Once Quick saw the police pull up to the restaurant, him and Lucky quickly made their exit.
“You a crazy muthafucka.” Lucky laughed. “Trust me, don't no nigga come up to a bitch job and beat her ass for no reason,” he said, and the two slid in the hooptie and pulled off.
“Nah, she don't strike me as the type,” Quick said, staring out the window.
Lucky huffed. “Shit, you probably hurt her more than you helped her, 'cause you know he gon' fuck her up when she get home.”
Quick didn't reply. He just stared out the window and enjoyed the ride as Plies pumped through the speakers. Inside he felt bad for Tiffany and was only trying to help her, but he knew what Lucky said was true. He had probably made her situation even worse than it already was.
Lucky parked his car behind the church, and him and Quick hopped out and entered the church.
“What's good?” Lucky said as him and Quick gave each member in the office dap.
Lucky and Quick took a seat at the round table as they waited for Turf to speak.
“That nigga Sosa,” Turf began, “how well do you know him?” He looked at Lucky.
“That was my first time seeing him in mad long time,” Lucky replied. “We just used to go to school together.”
“I got something for that clown.” Turf smiled. “But I have a job for you two.”
“Wassup?” Quick asked, sitting up in his chair. Whatever Turf needed them to do, he was ready to do it and get it over with.
Turf leaned back in his chair. “We have a snitch on the team. I just got word that that nigga Roach has been running his mouth.”
“What's the nigga resume?” Lucky asked.
Goliath walked over and handed Lucky a piece of paper with all of Roach's info on it.
“The one thing I can't stand is a snitch,” Turf said, sternly looking at everyone who sat at the round table. His eyes then went back to Quick and Lucky. “I need y'all to take care of this for me. Oh, and he owe me some money too,” Turf suddenly reminded himself. “Bring that back to me as well.”
Turf tossed Quick a stack of money. “That's ten thousand for y'all to split. The more work you two put in, the more you'll get paid. You just gotta work your way up from the bottom first.”
“No problem,” Quick said, and him and Lucky got up and made their exit.
Quick handed Lucky his share of the money as they slid in the hooptie.
“Shit. This five thousand apiece shit is whack,” Lucky complained as he pulled away from the church.
“Five thousand a day seems good to me,” Quick said, counting out his money. He had been saving all of his money, so it didn't matter to him. Besides, five thousand a day was more than he was making before Turf had put him on the team.
“You thinking too small,” Lucky said as he maneuvered through the NewYork City traffic. “I definitely ain't trying to be a worker for the rest of my life.” He figured, if he was going to be in it, he might as well be in it all the way. Working for Turf for a long period of time definitely wasn't in his plans.
Lucky pulled up in front of Roach's house and killed the engine. He hopped out and walked over to the trunk, from where he removed his TEC-9 and stuck it down in his pants as him and Quick walked up to the front door.
Quick rang the doorbell and patiently waited for someone to answer the door.
Seconds later Roach answered the door. “Yes, can I help y'all?” he asked, looking the two up and down.
“Yeah. We here to pick up the money you have for Turf,” Quick said politely.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Come on in,” Roach said, stepping to the side so the men could enter. “So you the two new guys, huh? I've been waiting to meet y'all. I'm Roach,” he said, introducing himself.
“We would love to chitchat with you, but we gotta get out of here,” Quick said, as him and Lucky stood in the kitchen.
“Okay, no problem. Give me one second, and I'll be right back,” Roach said, and he disappeared up the steps.
Quick and Lucky waited patiently for him to return.
Ten minutes later Roach returned downstairs with a smile on his face. “Sorry about the wait, but I had to count up that money,” he said, holding out the book bag.
Quick gladly accepted the book bag. “Can I have a glass of water before I go, please?”
“Sure,” Roach said, and he turned to head toward the refrigerator.
As soon as he turned around, Quick pulled out his 9 mm and shot him in the back of the head, and Roach's body dropped face-first to the floor as blood stained the refrigerator door.
Just as Quick and Lucky headed for the door, they heard footsteps coming down the stairway. Lucky quickly pulled out his TEC-9 and aimed it at the bottom of the steps.
Roach's wife and two little daughters came downstairs and froze when they saw two men standing in their kitchen with guns. Roach's wife looked down and saw her husband laid out on the floor and began to cry.
Quick looked at the woman and two kids and stuck his gun back in his waistband. “Come on, let's get outta here,” he said.
“A'ight,” Lucky replied, and he squeezed the trigger, waving his arms back and forth.
Quick watched in horror as the TEC-9 bullets chopped up Roach's wife and two daughters, leaving their bodies smoking.
When the two got back in the car, Quick just glared at Lucky.
“What?” Lucky said as he pulled off. “They saw our face.”
Quick didn't reply. He just kept quiet, not believing what Lucky had just done.
“I just saved our asses,” Lucky said. He didn't want to kill Roach's wife and kids, but he felt he was left with no choice. They saw him and Quick's faces, so they had to go.
Lucky pulled up in front of Ivy's apartment and placed the car in park. “You chilling in the crib for the rest of the night?”
“Yeah, I'm done for the night.” Quick gave Lucky dap and headed inside the crib.