Chronicles of Crooklyn, page 3
The young girl cringed as nearly everyone in the room jumped up hollering, “Me! Me! Me! I did! I did! Yeah, I fucked her! I sucked her! I licked her too! Hell fuckin’ yeah I got me some of that! Me too! Me too! That’s a community pussy! I got me a lil bit too!”
Her baby brother stood up in the front row and the girl cried out at the sight of him. The bright lights shone down on his injuries and she moaned with grief. Jimmy raised his hand and wiggled his broken fingers in the air.
Her brother had nothing but love for the devil as he laughed and yelled, “Man, every niggah in Harlem done tapped that ass! That bitch gives some real dead head!”
The crowd cracked up laughing, and the girl could only weep as the devil gazed down at her with a dark, evil stare.
He was going to kill her.
She could see it in his eyes.
Fast as lightning, he snatched her by the throat and cut off her breath. She didn’t even struggle as his monster blows rained down on her head and he called her every kind of stank bitch and nasty hoe he could muster. He pummeled her face, her chest, and sought out her tender gut.
And when the devil finally flung her over on her stomach and began unbuckling his belt, the young girl just lay there helplessly. In total submission. She was ready to die. The will to live flew right out of her as he yanked her naked hips high in the air. His penis was black and erect, and poised to ram her straight into nightmare hell.
But the girl didn’t fight back, and she certainly didn’t refuse the devil.
There was no need to.
Because if the pretty young girl hadn’t been taught a damn thing during the two years she’d been Granite “G” McKay’s woman, she had definitely learned one thing was true: come hell or high water, the devil always got his due.
$$$$$
I woke up in bed with my nightgown tangled around my neck. Somehow I’d ripped it off in my sleep and gotten caught up in it. I struggled to catch my breath. A scream pushed against my throat and my heart banged so hard I thought my chest was about to explode. My nightmare had felt real as hell. I was so convinced it was actually happening that my fists were balled up and my booty-cheeks were clenched tight.
For a moment I was right back where it had all started. Back in Harlem. Back inside the G-Spot, the high-rolling nightclub where I had lost my soul and almost lost my life.
I glanced over and saw Gino snuggled under the sheets beside me, and suddenly everything began shifting back into focus.
They had come to me in my dreams again. My family. Grandmother, Cara, Aunt Ree, Dicey, and worst of all, Jimmy. Not the way they were when they were alive and loving me, but the way they were in death. The way G wanted me to see them, and most of all to remember them. Twisted, sliced, bloodied, broke down, shot up. Brutalized.
It had been six months since the night I’d run out of the G-Spot with nothing but a filthy sheet wrapped around me and a nasty tube sock pressed between my legs. Six months since the life I was living had cost me almost everything and everybody I had ever loved.
Something inside me broke wide open and the fear and pain came flying out. My tears were hard and silent. The kind of cries an innocent girl makes when she’s been crushed in her soul.
I had been a naïve and sheltered seventeen-year-old schoolgirl when Granite McKay rescued me from my grandmother’s raggedy apartment on 136th Street, and took me and my brother Jimmy to his luxurious penthouse on Central Park West.
G might have been an old hustler, but he was top shelf all the way. Between his shiny new whips and imported tailor-made clothes, G was legendary and had absolute power on the streets of Harlem.
At the age of forty-six he had conquered a New York City Kingdom and he ruled it with a perfect balance of fear and respect. People on the streets had love for G. He knew exactly how to take care of the community and he was real generous when he wanted to be. G was real rich and he surrounded himself with nice things. He had turned me on to the finest stuff money could buy. When we moved to Central Park West, G hired two maids and a driver. He paid a stylist to do my hair, and a Swedish woman to massage my body and keep my skin soft just in case he felt like touching me.
But just because a man had money it didn’t mean he could put his thing down the right way. G was rich, but he was set in his ways too. I was just a delicious piece of eye candy to him, and the only thing he allowed me to do was sit up on a barstool and look good every night.
So while I liked what G was giving me, I wasn’t satisfied with the way he was giving it to me. G was like a big bucket of ice-cold water, and my young body was sizzling hot, burning straight on fire. A buster like him couldn’t help but want to splash on me and put out my flames.
So, yeah. I had been really stupid while I was busy thinking I was so smart, but if I’d had even a little bit of sense on the cap, I would have never let Granite McKay take me up on the G-Spot stage and announce to the world that I was his. I had felt so lucky for getting chosen by the King of Harlem! But let’s face it. If Lady Luck had really been on my side, she would’ve told me to break up out of the G-Spot and run for my life.
Read more
in
G-Spot 2: The Seven Deadly Sins
Pride: The 1st Deadly Sin
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Now enjoy
Chronicles of Crooklyn
from
Empire State of Mine$!
EMPIRE STATE OF MINE$!
An Urban Erotic Thriller
WARNING!
This here ain’t no romance,
It’s an Urban Erotic Thriller
The block is clickin, the plots get thickened
when dealing with straight-up killers!
This the city that never sleeps
The Zip ’em up crew always plays for keeps
Drugs and bosses, slugs and coffins,
lives get lost and pain is deep!
Home of the G’s and diamond thieves,
Where crooked police won’t let you breathe,
Where the money comes fast and they put you on blast
and the belly of the beast won’t let you leave!
A lot of shit goes down in this gunslingers town,
pay ya dues...no rules when they coming for ya crown!
Every borough is thorough and ya life’s on the line,
this is NYC, an Empire State of Mine$!
EMPIRE
STATE of MINE$!
(It’s A Movie in a Book)
Episode 1
Chronicles of Crooklyn
A NOIRE & REEM RAW JOINT
There are eight million stories in the naked city of New York.
These five are all the way live.
“Crooklyn hittas get all the loot!
That’s because them crazy niggas ain’t scared to shoot!”
CHAPTER 1
A Sometimey Muh’fucka!
“Yo, look at Thot McStuffins over there fuckin up them jeans,” Black Pearl muttered as he chewed on a toothpick that was sticking outta the corner of his mouth. His lazy eyes were glued to the hips of a glamorous hood chick who was strolling past the project building with her ass high in the air. Mami was a certified and legit bad bitch. Long Brazilian, tiny lil waist, fat titties, and the type of bouncing donk that kept a nigga lickin his lips.
“Fuck that nasty scab!” his boy Dolla spit as they chilled on the porch of building 430. He nodded toward the walkway. “Check out that pigeon-chasin tard-head over there fuckin wit’ that watch!”
The tall dude coming toward the porch looked shot out. He was mumbling under his breath and stiff-walking like a two-year-old with a shitty pamper.
Dolla and his four-man crew had just come in from bustin all their traps. Dolla was the baby of the bunch and the cruelest of them all. Short and muscular with a medium-light complexion, he had long dreadlocks and a grimy hood demeanor.
Dolla took a swig off his Corona then passed the bottle to his day-one homey, Ed Mu. His eyes narrowed as he grilled the bum who was shuffling his feet and dangling an old-fashioned pocket-watch from his fingers.
The fourteen-story old folk’s building they were holding down was damn near a nursing home. It was quiet and didn’t attract no whole lotta attention. It was the perfect spot to establish a fresh drug headquarters, which is why Handgun Goody, Brownsville’s most brutal drug kingpin, was trying to find a few empty apartments to pump out of.
Goody had sent Dolla, Black Pearl, Alione, and Ed Mu over to the building to put fear in the hearts of the elderly residents. The other three street soldiers were just following their orders, but intimidating the weak and helpless was right up Dolla’s alley.
“Yo, watch this shit,” he said. He was amped to clown the bummy-looking cat as soon as dude got up close to the porch. “I’ma fuck homeboy up for that rusty watch.”
Dressed in tattered old army clothes, the dude looked like he was off his rocker. He was tall and built real fit, but he moved like he was high or in a daze. He was muttering something under his breath as he checked and rechecked the time on the old pocket watch.
“Man, leave Sometimey alone,” Alione waved Dolla’s young ass off. Alione was a six-foot-five, tar-black tall drink of water and he didn’t waste a whole lotta words. “That shell-shocked muh’fucka don’t be botherin nobody but them pigeons up on the roof. You know that nigga’s eggs is scrambled. They say he came back from the military all psycho like that.”
Dolla grabbed his nuts and bucked at his homey. “Yo I don’t give a fuck about that nigga’s eggs! He don’t belong in this old people’s building no way. I’ma fuck his retarded ass up.”
Stepping over to the edge of the porch, Dolla cupped his hands around his mouth and hollered, “Yo, Sometimey! Sometimey! Nigga you hear me callin you! Hur’rup and get up on this goddamn porch! What time is it, bruh?”
The slow-minded veteran looked up like he was confused. His eyebrows dropped low and his lips started moving even faster. He slowed his stroll like he was scared to approach the porch and his stiff little steps became even choppier.
“Come on, fuck-boy! Get your pigeon-pokin ass up here and tell me what time it is!”
“Shut the fuck up Dolla and lee’im alone!” Alione ordered again. “You attracting unnecessary attention, stupid ass! Ain’t nothin but old people in this fuckin building, yo. You know they quick to call the cops.”
“Did you hear me, nigga?” Dolla igged Alione and barked on the bum again. Sometimey stood there shaking like a lil bitch and hiding his watch behind his back. Dolla stepped off the porch and ran down on him real strong. The bum was tall as hell. Dolla’s evil glare traveled from his face down to his raggedy army pants and stopped at the toes of his pigeon-shit splattered boots. Then he glanced back up at dude’s peasy head that was covered with a stupid little bird cap.
“Yo, I ain’t gonna ask you no more. What fuckin time is it, my nigga?”
“I-I-I,” the crazy bum parted his lips and whispered as his whole body shook in fear. “I’on’t…know.”
Dolla yanked his fist back like he was about to cold smash him. Dude ducked low and threw his arms up to cover his head and Dolla busted out laughing.
“Get the fuck outta here you goddamn weirdo!” he hollered as Sometimey jetted across the porch with fear in his eyes.
“Ay, my click ’bout to take over this whole fuckin building, nigga! Nah, these whole fuckin ’jects! So next time I ask yo dumb ass what time it is…” Dolla rushed behind him and punted the toe of his Timb deep in the crack of dude’s ass, “you better fuckin tell me!!!”
The nutcase yelped and grabbed at his ass with both hands. For a second he hopped up and down like a scared lil kid, and then he barreled into the lobby and scampered into the waiting elevator. Trembling, the bum jabbed at the button for the top floor. Then he crouched down low in a pissy corner and covered his face with his hands.
Dolla stood there grilling him. Loud laughter erupted from his homeys on the porch behind him and Dolla’s spirits got lifted for the first time all day. He walked back outside and elbowed Ed Mu in his chubby stomach and gave Black Pearl some dap. He cut his eyes at Alione, then he reached for his brewski and cracked up right along with his boyz.
“Man, gimme my goddamn ’Rona!” Dolla snatched the cold bottle from Ed Mu and turned it up for a swig. “Muthafuck that Sometimey muh’fucka!”
$$$$$
Four hours later the sky over the corrupt town of Crooklyn was dark and menacing as the elevator door creaked open in the lobby of building 430. The elderly residents of Van Dyke projects had long ago retreated to the safety of their apartments and the ominous streets were now home to the wicked and the wily.
Dolla was in the staircase getting his meat mauled by a crackhead that he had snatched off the corner for five dollars. The skinny girl with the raggedy weave was on her knees jacking his tiny wiener and slobbering all over his walnuts like her next hit depended on it.
“Nah, don’t be shy! Put all this here shit in ya mouth, bitch!” Dolla demanded like he was working with a foot-long dick. “You lucky I don’t bang all this wood down your throat and choke ya ass wit’ it!”
The desperate fiend put her lip game down on him like a pro. She made her mouth get real wet and let his lil dick go swimming in hot spit as she sucked his miniature nub and squeezed his balls. Dolla groaned deep in his throat and palmed her knotty head. He pumped his joint up into her mouth and gasped with pleasure.
Moments later he let one blast on her, and when she went to let go of his dick he gripped her head firmly between his hands until she swallowed his seed and his shit went soft. Pulling up his pants, he gave her a look of disgust then tossed the five dollar bill at her and kicked open the exit door.
Outside, the other three trap boys were still occupying the porch of the old folks building. With his balls nice and empty, Dolla joined them and they got turnt up and rowdy as they guzzled brew, shot cee-low, and talked cash shit. They gave no fucks about disturbing the peace of the elderly residents and they threatened to pop on anybody who looked out the window and even thought about complaining.
Ed Mu had already made at least three trips to the all-night corner store to restock their supply of Coronas and Remy 1738. He had an overweight thotty on standby at the crib waiting to suck his dick, and after peering into the empty carton he decided to make one last run for the night.
“Yo, a nigga thirsty again,” he said as he thrust his hands into the front pockets of his sagging pants. “I’ll be right back.”
Dolla and Black Pearl were so caught up in shooting a game of cee-low that they barely noticed Ed Mu leaving. Alione noticed, though. He caught up with Ed and they walked off toward the all-night corner store together.
No sooner than they’d disappeared did the elevator door creak open in the building’s lobby. A tall, athletic-looking cat stepped out. He was dressed in baggy jeans and his head was covered by an oversized hoody that was blacker than the midnight sky.
He crossed the building’s quiet lobby in three deadly strides and yanked the front door open so hard that it crashed back against the wall. The glass panel shattered from the force and glittering shards fell to the ground.
Crouching down as he shook the dice in his palm, Black Pearl looked up and locked eyes with him first.
“Oh shit . . .” is all the treacherous young hustla had time to mutter before the barrel of a Tech Nine flashed brightly and hot lead flew at him full force.
Standing three feet away, Dolla was quicker than his boy and lighter on his feet, but not by much. His street instincts kicked in and so did all the alcohol that he had been consuming. Dolla knew he’d just got caught lacking, and he feared he was about to get robbed, or even worse, deaded.
He spun around and rose up outta his crouch like a sprinter coming out the blocks. He had taken about four long strides off the porch, hauling ass super-quick, when the first round caught him in the back of his right thigh.
“Ahhhh!!!” he screamed and clutched his torn quadriceps muscle as he broke into a stiff-legged shuffle run. “Ahhhh! Muh’fucka you shot me!!!”
The second slug ripped through his left calf, hobbling him. The third bullet pierced neatly through his left shoulder. It spun his ass around in a wide circle and slammed him mug-down into the concrete ground.
