It's Like Candy (26 page)

Starr cautiously made her way toward the jeep and answered, “It's fifty for a blow job, and a hundred and fifty for a fuck.”

“Damn, that's a little steep for some pussy,” the Hispanic man replied.

“Baby, I'm worth it. I'm the best out here,” she boasted about herself.

But the driver still looked reluctant. To give him more encouragement, Starr lifted her skirt and revealed to him that she didn't have on any panties. The man gazed at her shaved pussy, and his hormones went raging.

“This could be yours right now. I know you ain't scared of pussy, baby. You look like you got a big dick,” she said, slightly playing with her skirt with the man watching.

“Fuck it, get in,” he said, unlocking his doors.

Starr quickly jumped in, and when she got in on the passenger side, she quickly chirped Reality, saying, “Reality, I got a date; I'm getting into a green Cherokee jeep.”

Reality chirped her back, saying, “Ayyite, Starr, you know the rules, that niggah got twenty minutes.”

“I know.”

The jeep drove off down the block to find a secure and inconspicuous location where Starr could earn her money.

As Starr drove off with her date, Reality noticed a burgundy Escalade driving toward them. Reality remembered Dynasty saying that they pushed her into a burgundy Escalade. His senses heightened, and he reached under the seat for his gat.

 

Donald pushed the truck down
Rockaway Boulevard, looking out for hoes to tax. He had Tank with him, and they both were ready to run up on some hoes and give them a hard time.

“Look at that, these bitches are out here tonight, and they thinkin' we a joke,” Donald said, looking very unhappy. “They think it's a game. We gonna show these hoes we mean business.”

Donald looked around for his first victim, and he quickly spotted her sauntering down 154th Street, coming toward 137th Avenue. She had just stepped out of a car and was making her way back to Rockaway.

Donald slowly moved the car down 154th Street and pulled up close to her. The young lady got nervous, knowing she was in trouble, and she started to run in her spike heels. But Tank quickly got out and pushed her against a brick wall.

“Bitch, where you goin'? Don't fuckin' run from us!” he yelled. “What we tell you about being out here and gettin' this money? This is Yung Slim's territory. Anything being sold out here, from drugs to pussy, he gets a percentage of.”

The young lady stared at Tank in horror. He was slim, dressed in baggy jeans and a T-shirt, and brandished a 9-mm pistol in front of her.

“You either get the fuck off this track now, or you pay the fuck up!” Tank yelled.

“Please, I need this—my daddy said—”

Slap! Slap! Slap!
Tank smacked her multiple times in her face with an open hand. “I don't give a fuck who your daddy is—you know what's up!”

Donald stayed seated in the driver's seat, observing Tank go wild on shorty, and smiled. Tank was one of the young recruits who got on the team and was eager to make this money and earn a name for himself. And he definitely had heart.

Both men were unaware of the black Escalade that turned off of 134th Avenue and slowly moved down 154th Street with its headlights off. Reality cocked back his Desert Eagle and was now positioned in the passenger seat while Jay drove.

Reality saw Luscious getting smacked near the corner, and was upset.

“Drive by real slow,” he told Jay.

Jay moved the truck down the block at a turtle's pace. Reality couldn't just do a drive-by because of Luscious being in the way.

Tank gripped Luscious by her neck and continued his abusive onslaught, enjoying his work. He was going hard for his reputation by beating up helpless women.

Donald continued to watch, but something suddenly caught his attention. He turned to look and noticed a black Escalade was pulled up beside his, and before he could react, two shots were fired into his head, pushing his wig back. The .50 caliber left two crater-sized holes in his head.

Tank quickly spun around, only to see Butter coming at him with his .45 trained at his head. Butter quickly fired.
Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!

Tank dropped suddenly, hit by all seven shots that came at him.

Luscious screamed in horror as blood splattered on her. Butter quickly yanked the screaming woman off the ground by her arm and shoved her into the truck.

“Yo, chirp all the hoes and tell ‘em to get off the fuckin' track ASAP. Tell ‘em to meet up at the rendezvous,” Reality instructed Butter and Jay, knowing that they just made the track hot for police activity.

 

Starr sucked
her date's dick with passion and skill while he reclined in his seat, moaning and grunting. The loud slurping sounds she made while deep-throating his dick were music to his ears.

“Ah, yeah . . . damn . . . that feels good. Ooh, so good!” he cried out.

He fingered her pussy with her legs spread for him as Starr simultaneously sucked on the tip of his dick and jerked his shaft, playing with his balls.

Suddenly from a short distance, they both heard numerous shots ring out. They were parked in the nearby parking lot on 140th Avenue.

“Yo, was that gunshots?” Starr inquired, stopping her actions.

“They shooting?” her Hispanic date said, raising his seat up.

Moments later, Starr received a loud chirp over her Nextel, hearing Jay shout, “Starr, get off the track now! You know where to meet up at.”

“Oh, shit!” Starr blurted out, becoming nervous.

“Yo, what happened?” her date asked, becoming nervous himself.

“I need to go,” she told him, pulling down her skirt.

He started the ignition and quickly drove out of the parking lot. He dropped Starr off in front of the Executive. She apologized to him for the trouble and walked toward the entrance.

When the jeep pulled away, she got on the horn and chirped Reality. “Yeah, I'm in front of the motel.”

“Somebody will be around shortly to come get you. You stay there,” Reality instructed.

Moments later, a dark Yukon quickly came to a complete stop in front of the Executive. Starr went to the truck and quickly jumped in and was greeted by three other ladies in the backseat.

Within ten minutes, Reality cleared the track of all activity and hauled business off to a different location—Newark.

 

An hour later,
the block was inundated with police activity. Flashing police lights and the loud sirens blaring awakened many neighbors to the crime scene.

They found Donald slumped over the steering wheel with two large holes in his head, and Tank sprawled out on the concrete riddled with bullets.

Detective Monroe pulled up to the scene, not really knowing what to expect. He'd got a call over the radio indicating two dead, and decided to check it out.

He walked up to the bodies and instantly knew what crew both men belonged to. “Shit!” he muttered. He examined Donald and shook his head in disbelief. His brains were leaking all over the dashboard, and his body was contorted. The next victim didn't look so good either; he was riddled with shots, with brain matter all over the sidewalk.

Detectives began asking around for eyewitnesses, but no one had seen a thing. Cops knew that the area was frequented by prostitutes, but it didn't surprise them that they couldn't find one girl in sight for questioning.

Monroe got on his cell phone and quickly made a few calls. He had some indication of what went on. It wasn't a coincidence that a few weeks after Yung Slim got out, bodies started dropping. But he was shocked that the two dead belonged to Yung Slim's camp; he'd thought it would be the other way around. Detective Monroe knew about Rome and his violent hold over some areas in south Jamaica, and what he feared was starting to come through. A war over drugs, pussy, and territory was brewing between two notorious men.

Eric lay nestled
against River in the comfortable confines of his king-sized bed on a sunny warm afternoon. She'd been secretly staying at his apartment for a few days, and he loved every minute of her company. As promised, he took her shopping and splurged on $3,000 or more of clothes, shoes, getting her hair done, and a night out with her in the city.

He had completely forgotten about business with his cousin, Critter, or even Willie, his Brooklyn connection. River had him in complete bliss since she'd arrived at his apartment unannounced.

“I can lay in your arms forever,” River said.

“Ditto,” he replied, squeezing her tightly.

On the nightstand, Eric heard his cell phone going off repeatedly, but he ignored it.

“You're not going to answer it?” River asked.

“Nah, niggahs can do without me for a few days,” Eric returned, gazing into River's hypnotic dark bedroom eyes. The phone rang a few more times, but Eric just tuned it out, and had River straddle him in the bed. She climbed on top of him and began riding his dick slowly, causing him to moan.

“Ooh, I love this so much,” he cried out, gripping her hips.

Out of the blue, Eric's apartment phone began to ring, and that shocked him, because nobody ever called his home line. If they wanted to reach him, they knew it was through his cell phone only.

Eric stopped midthrust and stared at the phone.

“What's wrong?” River asked.

“My phone,” he said, looking troubled.

“What about the phone?”

“That phone doesn't ring, unless—” He stopped when he heard the answering machine pick up.

“E, where the fuck you at?” he heard Critter shout through the answering machine. “I've been calling your phone all fuckin' morning. They got Donald last night, shot him twice in the head. Pick up, niggah. Shit is fucked up right now.”

Eric couldn't believe what he just heard. He had no immediate reaction. He just looked emotionless. River still was on top of him, but all sexual activity stopped for them as soon as he heard the message. She didn't know what to say or do. She knew it had to be a close friend of his.

“Baby,” she called out, trying to snap him out of his sudden trance.

“Just get off me,” Eric said calmly.

River didn't say a word but got up and positioned herself near the end of the bed, staring at Eric.

“Muthafucka!” Eric shouted, knocking over the lamp on the nightstand and jumping out of bed. He walked around naked, angry and upset. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Critter's number.

Critter picked up after the second ring.

“Yo, where the fuck was you?” Critter shouted.

“None of your business. What the fuck happened?”

“Rome's men murdered Donald and that new niggah Tank last night. They got gunned down on One hundred and thirty-seventh Ave, it's a fuckin' mess,” Critter informed.

“Where's my cousin?” Eric asked.

“I don't know. He called me, said he wanted everyone to meet up at the club this evening, and that's it,” Critter said. “You know it's on, right?”

Eric was quiet over the phone.

“E, you still there? E . . .”

“Yeah, let me call you back,” he said, and clicked off.

Donald was a childhood friend, and what he feared came true. Donald and Tank were the first victims in a war that was brewing. Eric didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. Everything was happening too fast for him. First there was the stickup with Big Red, then his cousin coming home and trying to reclaim the streets again. Then River had come back into his life, and having such strong feelings for her, he couldn't let her go. And now his boy Donald was dead.

“Eric, you okay?” River asked, being concerned.

“No, I'm not,” he replied, trying to hold back his emotions. He stared out his bedroom window, trying to hide his teary eyes from River. He didn't want her to see him in this state.

River, knowing he was upset, slowly walked up to him as he gazed out his bedroom window, gently placed her arms around his waist and embraced him.

“It's goin' to get ugly, River . . . really fuckin' ugly,” Eric proclaimed, his attention still focused out the window.

“I know, but it's been ugly for me,” she replied. She began massaging his chest, trying to comfort him.

“I just wanna escape and go somewhere where nobody knows me and start over. I just wanna be happy, and this game I'm in, I fear I might not come out of it alive, like my father,” Eric said.

“Baby, please don't talk like that,” River countered.

“Why not? It's the truth. Donald's dead, and how many murders will come after him? You don't know me, River. You don't know what my family is about. I grew up around this shit all my life, from my father, uncles, and my cousins,” Eric stated. “My father was Yung Black, you ever heard of him?” he asked.

“No,” River answered.

“He was one of the most feared gangsters in this city back in the eighties. He used to work for the Gambino crime family as a gun for hire, and ran around with a notorious crew known for murders and extortion. I remember when I was six, he put the first gun in my hand and told me what I held in my hand gave you respect and power on the streets. My father took shit from no one, and had so many men's blood on his hands that I used to think it was normal to do what he did.

“When I was seven, I remember cops with guns kicking in our front door and shouting, looking for my father. He was upstairs in the bedroom wit' my mother when they raided the crib. I just stood there, watching them drag my father down the stairs. He was fighting back, and they jumped on him, cuffed him, and took him away from us for a month. He eventually got out on bail, and was still doin' the same old shit, like nothing affected his dangerous lifestyle. I used to think he was untouchable, until I was eight. My father and mother were having this huge argument, I think it was over money. Somebody owed him for a hit he did, but they shitted on him. He was out the door ready to do what he did best, murder. But my mother tried to stop him, I guess she felt something wasn't right. I remember it was a gloomy night when he walked out the door with his gun, and my mother was chasing and pulling after him. But he wouldn't listen, he was intent on handling his business. They argued outside, and then that's when I heard the shots, about ten shots rang out. I quickly ran to the door and saw my father sprawled out on the sidewalk in a puddle of his own blood, and my mother clutching his body in her arms, crying out hysterically. He was dead on the spot. It was a hit, and till this day, his death is still unsolved. But my father made many enemies, and he died the way he lived.