Dirty Work, Part 1, page 12
He was lively, dancing around in his robe and slippers, while Kip stood in the living room stoically.
Meek gestured to the chair. “Have a seat, and let’s talk.”
A few of his men joined them in the living room. They stood around looking cold and calculating.
Kip was feeling really uneasy. “I just came to collect my money,” he said respectfully.
“Yes, yes, your money, eh. You did right by me,” Maserati Meek said. “Excuse my jolliness. I recently came back from Vegas and had a wonderful time. I had some of the best pussy in my life. This woman, she is phenomenal, I must say, eh.”
Kip didn’t care for the particulars about his trip. The only thing he cared about was his fifty thousand dollars.
“Are you single, my friend?” Maserati Meek asked Kip.
“That ain’t your business.”
“I know. Why did I even ask?”
To Kip, it felt like Maserati Meek was stalling in paying him for some reason. He started to feel a lot edgy. He scanned the room and saw more of Meek’s goons around than he’d anticipated, different faces, different lieutenants. If it went down, could he fight his way out? Most likely, he wouldn’t stand a chance. And Meek wasn’t a dude to be trusted. He was known to be paranoid and crazy.
Kip now felt that coming alone was definitely a mistake. “Meek, I just want my money and to leave. We did a job for you, so pay me,” he said more sternly.
“Yes, yes,” he said. He snapped his fingers toward one of his goons. “Go get this man his money.”
The man nodded and left the room.
Kip’s uneasiness jumped from a five to a twenty on the Richter scale. If it came down to it, fight or flight, what were his odds? It wasn’t looking good at all. The man who had left, would he come back with his money or murder?
As Kip waited, Meek’s cell phone rang, and he picked up.
Kip just stood there coolly. Never let them see you sweat, he always told himself. He took a deep breath and waited. It was all he could do.
Maserati Meek was engrossed with the caller on the other end. He paced around in the next room.
Kip could barely hear what was being said. Did it concern him? At that moment, he wished he could read lips.
Maserati Meek then hung up and came back into the room he stood in. He looked at Kip. His expression seemed to change. He no longer looked upbeat, but more serious. Who did he talk to? “It seems that I may have another job for you, my friend,” he said to Kip.
“What kind of job?”
“One that will pay really well, eh. But I’ll fill you in with the details soon.” Meek looked into the next room and nodded slightly to someone.
Soon, the same man that had left the room reentered with a small backpack. He tossed it to Kip, who crouched and quickly picked up the bag. He unzipped it and saw fifty thousand dollars in ten-thousand-dollar stacks inside. Cool, but could he sigh with relief? Not yet. He was still in the house.
Meek said, “You can leave.”
Now suddenly he was rushing Kip out of his house. Something was definitely up. Kip left the house and finally felt relieved when he was inside his minivan with his money. He removed the gun from underneath the seat. He started the ignition and lingered behind the wheel for a moment, wondering what the fuck had just happened back there.
As he sat, he noticed a car approaching. Kip gripped his gun, which was already cocked, and kept his attention fixed on the vehicle. It was Jay P arriving. He remained cautious as he eyed Jay P climbing out of his dark green Yukon. He looked worried about something.
Kip rolled down his window, and Jay P came to the van. At the window, the two men dapped each other up.
Jay P was about to tell Kip about Big Sean’s murder, a devastating blow to him. But something quickly caught his attention. He noticed the diamond watch around Kip’s wrist. It was the same watch Big Sean had on—the one Kip stole, sold to Meek, and Meek gave to Big Sean. How did Kip suddenly get possession of it again? There was only one way he saw how—He’d murdered Big Sean himself and took back the watch. Jay P knew the hit had to come down from Maserati Meek himself. But why? Suddenly, his mood changed. Kip suddenly went from acquaintance to public enemy number one.
“I’m out,” Jay P said without emotion. He stepped away from Kip’s minivan and got back into his SUV.
Kip made his exit right after. And like Phil Collins once sang, there was definitely “something in the air tonight.”
***
Maserati Meek stood in the living room brooding, his lieutenants confused. What happened? They thought they were there to murder Kip today. It was supposed to be swift, a fast bullet to the back of his head, but they didn’t question Meek’s change of plans.
Maserati Meek wanted Kip dead because Kip had renegotiated the price for the hit on Big Sean. Meek had a set price, and he felt that Kip had gotten too greedy charging him fifty thousand when he’d just paid the nigga two hundred grand for the jewelry. And, no one talked back to Meek. No one. Once Meek said something, it was set in stone. In Egypt, the alpha is the man with the biggest guns and the largest gang.
Maserati Meek looked at his men and said, “He’s still valuable for the moment. I still need him.”
Maserati Meek was just on the phone with Panamanian Pete. Panamanian Pete’s name was major and had been ringing out for years through the Carolinas, Georgia, and Alabama. He ran those states with drugs, nightclubs, and goons. Panamanian Pete wanted to purchase a large shipment of kilos and guns from Meek, but Meek was paranoid. Why the sudden phone call? Meek felt it was a setup. He was aware that those alphabet boys wanted to arrest him and put him inside a cage for the rest of his life. He couldn’t risk someone in his organization getting jammed up. Every move he made had to be a wise, cautious one. He figured Panamanian Pete was either working for the Feds or planning to rob him. He needed Kip to take the hit if there was one planned. The young thug all of a sudden had a purpose.
Kip’s greed had rubbed him the wrong way. Kip didn’t know it, but they had a plastic tarp covering the floor in the next room, the room where he was supposed to be led to and violently murdered. Then they were going to roll his body up and dispose of it like it was trash.
Nineteen
Ooooh shit! Oh, baby, right there. Right fuckin’ there, homes, right there. ¡Mierda! ¡Mierda!” Jessica cried out in heated passion. She closed her eyes, bit down on her bottom lip, and squirmed around on the bed.
Maserati Meek went to work on her. He held her legs vertically in the air, his hold around her secure, his tongue inside her sweet core as he tasted every inch of her nice and slow.
Her pussy flowing like a river, Jessica announced, “I’m gonna come!” She couldn’t take it anymore. Her entire body felt lit up so bright that she was oozing natural power. Her legs quivered intensely. She wanted to drop them around Meek’s shoulders, rest them against the bed, but he continued to keep them vertical.
Her clit was trembling with intense sensation as his tongue darted in and out, and he wasn’t shy of tasting her anally. Meek pushed Jessica’s legs back more and continued to feast on her wetness. He lapped gently, making her howl.
“Come in my mouth.” He licked her clit tenderly, and he softly sucked her pussy lips as he slid his fingers in and out of her.
Maserati Meek was putting Jessica in that mental room of pure, unadulterated gratification. The more he licked and fingered her, the more she squirmed, crushed her teeth against her bottom lip, and the more her juices flowed.
Quickly, he pulled Jessica on top of him, and she started to ride his tongue to near orgasm.
Maserati Meek felt the warmth of her thighs against his face. Her breathing became labored. Whipping Jessica up into an orgasm required work, and it was work that Meek loved putting in.
“I’m gonna come!” she screamed out.
Moments later, her body reacted to the licking and the sucking, and she burst open like a piñata at a Mexican birthday party, her juices all over his face.
She rolled off his face and collapsed on her back, her chest heaving up and down.
Meek pulled himself up from his back and stood erect in the room. “I need to take a shower,” he said.
Jessica smiled at him.
“You care to join me?” he asked.
“Give me a minute.”
He walked into the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. He didn’t have the perfect ass, and he was a bit hairy in some places, but his money and power made up for any physical flaws. The dick was good, but the way he ate pussy was explosive.
Jessica heard the shower turn on. She rolled around in his bed feeling like a spoiled child. Her body felt healed, and her pussy still quivered from the tongue action. The expensive silk sheets made it feel like she was lying on clouds. His bed was so soft.
Maserati Meek was spoiling Jessica rotten with gifts. Overnight, she was swamped with Gucci, Prada, Chanel, Versace, Christian Louboutin, Armani, and so much more. She had jewelry and shoes. And he was filling her pockets with cash. It was a dream come true.
Even with her new clothing and her new man, she was still living in a cramped apartment in the projects with her family. She was spending more and more time with Meek; her new life with him was pulling her farther away from her friends. There was also another problem she had to deal with—he still had that bitch Nia in his life. She didn’t want to look jealous, but she was. She didn’t want to share him anymore.
Jessica rose up and peeled herself off the comfortable king-size bed. She walked to the wall-to-ceiling windows in the bedroom and gazed out at a vibrant, well-lit New York City. She was twenty floors up in his penthouse suite, surrounded by opulence in the romantic bedroom with an ultra-luxury king bed, large TV, and a cozy sitting area. The bathroom had a Kohler-jetted tub, a furniture sink vanity, and plush soft towels.
She pressed her tits against the glass and laughed. God, she was having the time of her life. She felt like a kid. She wanted to stay naked and free. Free from poverty and free from her crowding family. This was the place to be free. Her view of the city from so high was exhilarating. It felt like she was flying.
She thought about her options with Kip and his crew. She loved getting money with them; it kept her updated with fashion and things, but she and her friends had to take risks. Sometimes she felt like a prostitute, and Kip and his peoples were her pimps.
But with Maserati Meek, she pleased him and he pleased her, and they were falling in love. He gave her everything she needed without risk, and without any drama surrounding it.
She turned and made her way into the bathroom to join Maserati Meek in the shower. She stepped into the tiled shower with the warm water cascading down on her, and they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed passionately.
Touching Jessica again made Meek completely aroused and hard. The two couldn’t get enough of each other. It was hot and steamy passion sex continuously when they connected. It was just them—sucking, licking, and fucking their brains out with no thought of the outside world. They sexually contorted their bodies underneath the steamy, cascading water and their tongues and mouths wrestled fervently.
Jessica then lowered herself down to her knees and took his erection completely into her mouth and thrust her action forward, her full lips wrapped around his hard, pale flesh like a blanket. She felt he had made her come; now she wanted to make him come.
Meek cooed and groaned. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the pleasure.
Later in the night, the two lay nestled against each other on the bed. He didn’t want to let her go. She didn’t want to wake up from this dream. Everything about it felt so wonderful. From there, the pillow talk started.
“You’re wonderful and beautiful, you are, eh.”
She definitely had him sprung.
And although Maserati Meek required complete secrecy from her regarding their sexual interactions, now that he seemed pussy-whipped, he started to run his mouth to friends and people. He put Jessica on a pedestal and made it clear to everyone that they were fucking. His eccentric behavior couldn’t allow him any confidentiality.
He looked her in her eyes and asked, “You ever killed anyone?”
What kind of question was that to ask, especially after their intense lovemaking? But Jessica wasn’t appalled by the question; she remained chill. Death wasn’t anything new to her.
Meek continued with, “How do you feel about death, eh? I mean, does it turn you on like it does me?”
“Hey, homes, I’ve seen my fair share of it over the years. The world I come from, it’s an everyday thing, ya feel me?”
“Oh, I do. Besides you, power and murder turn me on, stirs me up. Just the other day, I let a man live when I was so erect to have him killed.”
She was listening. The things men said after sex, or when they were in love with someone. “Who was it?” she asked.
“Oh, this young thug named Kip.”
Jessica’s facial expression didn’t change at all when she heard the name. She acted like she’d heard the name for the first time. She simply asked, “Why did you want him dead?”
“His greed, but I let him live because he’s still needed for now. But his death is inevitable. Maybe I might bathe in his blood, eh.”
It was a sickening thought, but Jessica didn’t take any offense to it. She continued to lie next to him indifferently. He talked about murder like it was changing a TV channel.
Although Jessica had known Kip for years, and he was the love of her best friend Eshon’s life, she didn’t plan on warning him about the threat. The moment she’d connected with Maserati Meek, she’d already made her choice about where her loyalty lay.
Kip and his brother were nothing to her. It was good while it lasted with him and his crew, but now that she’d found the next best thing, she wasn’t about to ruin it, even if it meant Kip’s demise.
Twenty
It was the middle of May, and except for a few rainy days, the weather was consistently warm. Spring was in full-blown effect, with the trees full and green, their leaves dancing in the wind. The grass was soft and plush, and the sky a blanket of blue. It was the perfect day, and with Memorial Day approaching, there was barbecue in the air, especially in the Manhattanville projects.
Kip was cooking a few burgers outside of the project building he resided in. It was a small gathering with music playing from two speakers and several folks scattered around, talking, eating, and enjoying a beautiful day. Kip looked in high spirits as he stood by the small black grill flipping burgers and turning hot dogs. The thug and murderer he was didn’t show today. Instead, he treated his friends to food and music, like he was a pillar of the community.
For several weeks now, he had been low key. Though money was running low, his intuition told him to take a chill pill and relax. The neighborhood still had cops patrolling, and detectives Albright and Yang were still lurking around and still investigating the park shooting. New York homicide was relentless in solving the murders of three people.
The Nets didn’t make the playoffs, and a lot of basketball fans believed it was because of the absence of their star shooting guard. Had he not been shot, and had his career not come to a sudden end, the Brooklyn Nets would have been playing for a championship. There was absolute outrage. Folks were ready to take out their pitchforks and torches and hunt the monster themselves. The fans and the media wanted justice.
With Kip barbecuing, the ladies came out in droves to get some free food and some time with him. He was the center of attention. He looked extremely handsome with his fresh cut, long black cargo shorts, matching black Nikes, and wife-beater, his gold chain swinging.
Kid was lingering near the spontaneous cookout with a burger in his hand and a smile on his face. It was moments like these that he cherished—his brother doing something positive in his life. Though it seemed minor, to him, it was memorable. Kid was ready to get back to the park and continue his reign as the best chess player in the city, if not the state.
He’d done what Kip had advised, inviting a few people over to play in the apartment and staying away from St. Nicholas Park for a beat, but it just wasn’t the same. He missed the feel of the park, the concrete tables, the people around watching, and the competition.
It was a glorious afternoon, with the residents enjoying the food, the kids, the music, and Mother Nature. Kid was showing off in his wheelchair, doing wheelies and spin moves. It was impressive. Kid was laughing and playing around.
Kip smiled at his brother. This was life. No drama. Just spending time with friends and family.
Eshon and Brandy soon made their way to the makeshift barbecue. Eshon was extra excited. Seeing Kip cooking and enjoying himself was a turn-on for her. All had been forgiven from when he’d kicked her out so suddenly the next morning after sex. In fact, she was with him a week ago. They had intense sex, raw this time, and in the heat of the moment, she allowed him to come inside her. When he exploded into her, and she shuddered from her own orgasm, a million thoughts raced through her head. What if this was it? What if she was pregnant this time? Could she ever stop giving in to his needs, though she had her own needs?
Eshon continued to take chance after chance with Kip, not knowing where her fate might turn up with him. Surprisingly, after they fucked, she spent the night at his place again, and in the morning he didn’t rouse her to wake up or rush to kick her out. She had woken up to find him gone. He let her sleep in his bed. She was taken aback. What did it mean? Was Kip coming around finally? Was he about to give their relationship a second chance? She was nervous and excited at the same time.
Eshon and Brandy walked closer to the activity. She saw the sharks swimming around Kip. His being single was the smell of blood in the water to a shark, and the thirsty bitches came swimming toward him to fasten their sharp teeth around some new meat.
Brandy noticed her friend’s facial expression. She quickly said, “Just chill, Eshon. It’s a nice day, niggas is barbecuing, and we look good. Make that nigga sweat you for once.”
