Gods & Gangsters 2 Page 16

  “How you know I used to box?” Joe asked.

  Othello shrugged. “Sam told me.”

  What else did Sam tell you? Joe thought, but he said, “Yeah, I think about those times a lot. What could’ve been, what should’ve been. I have no doubt, I could’ve been a contender,” Joe reminisced, doing a lousy impression of Brando.

  “You ever regret it?”

  “Every day, man, every day. But what’s done is done. I got into this game with one thing in mind: to get out of this game. It’s been a long time, but I’m almost there.”

  Othello nodded, thinking: Not before you get what’s coming to you.

  “But I’ll tell you what’s really fucking me up. I can’t believe babygirl has been giving me the slip all this time. I can’t lie, she slick as muhfucka, but the way she had me following her girlfriend instead of her…” Joe let his voice trail off, as he sipped and his smile disappeared. He shook his head. “I never thought my babygirl would lie to me.”

  “I know what you mean,” Othello commented.

  “Do you?” Joe looked at him over the rim of his glass. “Because I’m going to tell you some real shit. That’s my daughter and I love her to death, but if she’ll lie to me, and I’m her father what makes you think she won’t lie to you when it suits?”

  Those words would echo in Othello’s head until…

  6

  “I’m sorry babe, just got a lot on my mind,” Adonis said.

  He and Bianca lay in her bed, naked. Her chocolate spread all over him, teasingly.

  Problem was, he couldn’t perform with women. Even though he called himself bi-sexual, that was just a word, not an identity. At least not for him. In reality, only men turned him on, with a singular exception.

  Aphrodite.

  Adonis didn’t know what the fuck was going on inside his own skull. The thought of it made him sick. It was disgusting. How could he look at his own mother like that? But he couldn’t help himself. What was that shit he’d used to explain Devante? The heart wants what the heart wants? But his heart? How could it be so utterly fucked up? It tore him up inside. It went beyond torment. The problem was, whenever he thought about Aphrodite, it turned erotic and his dick hardened. Every single time. Nothing he could do about it but go and bust a nut. Thinking about his own mother. That was some degenerate bullshit.

  “It’s okay, baby,” Bianca soothed. “I know with everything going on, and on top of that, the wedding getting closer, you’ve been stressed lately. It’s only natural. But I can help you with that,” she cooed in his ear, rubbing his dick with the palm of her hand, before lowering herself and taking him into her mouth.

  It was deliciously warm.

  It should have been heaven, but it wasn’t. Not until he did something about it.

  He imagined it was Aphrodite wrapping her sexy ass lips around his shaft, Aphrodite moaning that passionate pleasure as she ran her tongue around his engorged bell head, and his dick grew and grew, harder, as she ran her tongue down the length of his fat shaft.

  His toes curled as Bianca bobbed harder, sucking, licking, focused. A groan escaped his lips. He barely held out from calling out his own mother’s name. And like some sick twisted fuck, his revulsion just turned him on all the more.

  He used it.

  Adonis grabbed the back of her head and began to grind his dick all in her mouth, picturing Aphrodite on all fours, seeing her ruby red lips sucking his dick harder, those manicured fingernails scratching across his nuts then slipping a finger into his ass as she urging him on with her throat muscles, willing him to cum in her mouth.

  He couldn’t hold it back anymore.

  He exploded in Bianca’s mouth, the powerful shivers of his orgasm sending a current coursing up and down his spine as his body bucked uncontrollably against them.

  Bianca came off his dick, wiping the cum off her lips with the back of her hand as she smiled proudly up at it, foolishly thinking it was her head game, not that it was his head game that fucked him up.

  “See? I told you I could help,” she said, cuddled up beside him.

  Adonis kissed her on the forehead.

  “Just what the doctor ordered,” he told her, still picturing Aphrodite in his mind.

  The vision started to fade as he drifted off.

  The vibrating of his phone woke him up. He glanced down at Bianca who had fallen asleep on his chest. He tried to reach the phone without waking her, just in case it was Devante.

  It was a text message.

  A series of images.

  Pictures of himself and Devante at the cafe, going into a hotel room, pictures of them inside other hotel rooms, pictures of them having sex, even a shot of him coming from an angle that meant the camera had to be inside the room.

  He felt sick to his stomach seeing himself, balls deep inside of Devante.

  It wasn’t the bodies, not even the hard cocks. It was that look of ecstasy on both of their faces.

  It shamed him.

  The phone rang.

  Bianca stirred.

  He looked at the phone. A blocked number.

  He answered anyway.

  “Hello?”

  A deep rumble of a chuckle answered him back, before a smooth baritone said, “I guess you already got my message.”

  Adonis looked at Bianca again, then slowly moved her over until she transferred her head to the pillow.

  Adonis went into the bathroom, closing the door before he whispered hoarsely, “Who is this?”

  “Someone who knows, Adonis. That’s all you need to know,” the voice answered.

  Adonis paced the bathroom floor. Frustrated. Frightened. His world was about to come apart, not like the unraveling of a seam, but a fuckin’ world destroying big bang.

  “Okay, how much money do you want? That’s what this is about, right? Money? Name your price.”

  The voice began to laugh.

  “Oh Adonis, you sweet gay fool. You totally don’t see the bigger picture, do you? This ain’t about how much I want.”

  “Then what is it about?”

  “How much you’re willing to lose?”

  Adonis’ fear began to turn into frustration.

  “You’re fucking with flames here, you know that, right?”

  “Yeah, but I ain’t the one who is gonna get burned. That’s you, Adonis, unless you do exactly what I say,” the voice threatened.

  “Then what do you want me to do?”

  The voice chuckled. “Soon. Be ready for my call.”

  Click!

  The wedding was one for the ages.

  The theme was Old English Royalty, like that one on the TV with the first black princess.

  Joe Hamlet pulled out all the stops for his babygirl. He rented out a 52-room mansion and its full estate for the ceremony, and had people arriving in horse-drawn carriages, met by servants in white gloves and tails who bustled about, intent on catering to every detail.

  The guests were among the most powerful people in the city. Both realities of the city, legitimate and underworld, came to pay homage to Joe and see his only daughter married. And if money could buy happiness, it sure as hell did in this place; every face smiled joyously, save for one: Cash.

  That poor bastard knew his worst nightmare was about to come true.

  He had risen in power under Othello, working as his capo, old school, as the last few months had seen him overseeing a large part of the territory allotted to them by The Commission. He’d even taken it on himself to branch out on his own into areas outside of The Commission’s domain. It was all about power, money and sex. Right now he had all the money he could spend, all the power to crush the life out of his enemies, and some of the dirtiest downright fucking nasty sex he’d ever had, but it only served to show him none of it was worth a damn without Mona to share it with.

  Looking at her now, she still had it to stop his heart with a single look.

  She looked gorgeous in her off-white Vera Wang lace and silk wedding dress, a 25-foo
t long train trailing behind her.

  Proper princess material.

  Mac and Kandi moved through the crowd taking everything in.

  Mac too had matured into a power player. In many ways, he was even more powerful because Kandi got the game and was much more ambitious than either of the men, and kept her forked tongue hissing in Mac’s ear, pushing him to grasp higher, further, her greed knowing no bounds. And she was a boss in her own right, with a crew of chicks that did whatever she told them to do. Her instructions were never more complicated than: GET MONEY, BITCHES!

  Kandi worked the room, while Mac shook hands with the big hitters.

  His eye was taken as he watched Aphrodite move across the room. She eyed him back, one of those come hither type glances that promised nothing but trouble, before she moved toward one of the many bars set up around the grounds.

  Mac checked around for eyes, either Joe’s or Kandi’s, but they were otherwise occupied so he made his move.

  “Do I congratulate the mother of the bride?” He asked as he reached her.

  Aphrodite smiled, holding out a glass of Cristal for him.

  “You may.”

  “Then congratulations.”

  “Why thank you, Mac. I must say, you are looking mighty fine in that tuxedo of yours. Of course, there is a reason they call it the best man.”

  “I make everything I’m in look good.”

  “That is not the reason,” Aphrodite remarked, setting him up for the kill shot.

  Mac frowned subtly.

  “It’s an honor.”

  “No sweetheart, best man means second best, one rung behind the groom, the top man, star of the show,” Aphrodite quipped with a sassy smirk.

  The jab heated Mac’s collar, but he kept his composure.

  “I thought we had this conversation before? I’m second to none.”

  “Well, I need a man for my… non-profit,” Aphrodite told him, but the way she used her pauses meant there was way more she wasn’t saying.

  “Oh yeah? What position you have in mind?” he smirked, relaying his own innuendo.

  Her smile said, message received.

  “Every position.”

  “Just as long as I’m on top.”

  She held out her card. “Give me a call. Let’s see if I’m right about you, Mac.”

  Mac watched her sashay away, loving the way her ass bounced, no panty line. “Damn, that’s one sexy bitch,” he said under his breath.

  Mac checked his watch, then looked around for Othello.

  He had been chatting with a hustla from St. Louis who wanted a sit down with Othello.

  He moved through the crowd, looking for the other man.

  He found Cash first.

  “Yo brah, you seen O?”

  “Naw,” Cash responded, turning up yet another drink.

  There was something off about the man. He could have let it go, but this was the big day, he didn’t need Cash bringing ’em all down. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I’m good,” Cash lied, then wandered off before he could push it.

  He disappeared into the flock of people.

  Mac thought about Cash for a moment, then shrugged it off and continued his search. Bigger fish and all that.

  The mansion was huge, bigger than the Biltmore Estate.

  Mac walked through the place, looking up at the cathedral ceilings and gilded columns. This was serious old money, but without the taint of slavery that accompanied those plantation houses in the deep south. This was regal. The deeper he went, the more haunting and hollow the echo of his shoes became on the polished marble floors.

  He emerged near a back patio, spotting Othello sitting with Joe.

  Neither man saw Mac approach.

  He was about to make his presence known when he heard Joe Hamlet ask, “So, have you decided who you’re going to give your connect to? Mac or Cash?”

  That stopped him cold.

  He stood exactly where he was, waiting for Othello’s answer.

  Othello sucked in smoke from the thick Cuban in his mouth, then puffed out a smoke ring in the air. He still didn’t give his answer. Instead, he made a show of swirling his brandy around in the sifter. He set the glass down. Only then did he respond, “Yeah, I have. Me, Mac and Cash came up together and I love both of them niggas like brothers, but Mac… Mac is too bull-headed, too extravagant. His ambition outruns his discipline. Mac as boss would definitely be too dangerous, so no choice. Cash gets the connect.”

  The words stabbed Mac in the chest, sharper than any fucking shank.

  It was like listening to his woman declare her love for another nigga.

  It bit.

  After all I’ve done for this nigga? Seriously? After all my loyalty, holding this nigga down, this is how he sees me? This is how he repays me? With disloyalty and mistrust? Muhfucka, Kandi was right, only be loyal to yourself. That’s the takeaway. No other fucker will be loyal to you… I’ll show this cocksucker who has the brains to be boss!

  Mac’s thoughts burned with pure rage.

  Incandescent, he stalked away, a man on a mission: to burn this whole fucking thing down if that was what it took to get the throne he deserved.

  “He what?” Kandi spat, as red hot hearing Othello’s judgment as Mac had been.

  He hadn’t told her until they were back home from the ceremony, not wanting to set her off in front of the wedding party.

  Kandi was undressing. There was nothing close to half-naked rage.

  “That’s some real bullshit!” She exclaimed, popping the backs off her diamond studs. He knew that look. She was wishing she had someone to punch in the face.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Mac said, only half looking at her as he rolled the blunt he needed to take the edge off his anger.

  “You the one puttin’ in all the work, while pretty boy Cash just chased fuckin’ pussy… it’s such bullshit.”

  “Again, tell me something I don’t know,” Mac said, lighting the blunt.

  Kandi sat down next to him on the bed, stripped down to nothing but her panties.

  He hit the blunt, then passed it to her, his mind deep in thought.

  “Whatever you do, don’t show your hand. You get more bees with honey,” she reminded him.

  “Yeah, but you get more flies with shit,” he retorted, “And what this calls for is shit, and plenty of it!” Mac had a plan coming into his mind, piece by piece.

  Kandi smiled as she hit the blunt greedily, blowing smoke through her nose like some raging bull. “What are you gonna do?” She asked.

  He told her, and by the time he finished laying it out she had a grin wider than the Joker’s.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Adonis huffed, pushing past Devante’s into the condo.

  Devante shut the door, trying to judge just how dark his lover’s mood was as he followed him back into the lounge. Adonis hung his favorite burgundy butter leather jacket over the chair, then sat down rubbing at the shadow of stubble on his face.

  “This sounds serious.”

  “It is. Fix me a drink.”

  Devante crossed to the bar, pouring out two, then handed one glass to Adonis as he sat across from him. Adonis knocked back half in a single swallow, then said, “Somebody’s been taking pictures of us while we were fucking.”

  Devante’s eyes got huge. “No!”

  Adonis handed him the phone.

  Devante flipped furiously through each picture.

  He saw the same thing, straight away. “Some of these shots were taken inside the room… But… How?”

  Adonis looked at Devante.

  “Exactly.” A beat.

  “Wait. I know you don’t think I’m setting you up!” Devante protested. “That shit is poison in your brain. You know I would never.”

  Adonis sighed, downed his drink and shook his head.

  “I don’t know what to think right now. This shit is bad, real bad.”

  Devante slid over closer to him and began
to rub his back.

  “I would never do anything to hurt you, you should know that. I love you,” Devante professed. Adonis looked him in the eye. The sincerity he saw, made him feel guilty as hell for questioning him.

  He caressed Devante’s cheek and smiled.

  “I know. It’s just… I’m about to be a very powerful man, and if this gets out…”

  “I understand. Believe me, we’ll find out who is behind this before all that happens, I swear,” Devante assured him.

  “I hope so.”

  Devante gently turned Adonis’ face to his.

  “It will be okay,” he whispered, inclining his head slightly, then moved in to meet his lips, tender, his tongue exploring, opening him.

  Meanwhile, the camera clicked away silently…

  Mac gave Cash dap and a gangsta hug before the pair sat down. They met at a rundown tittie bar not far from their crib. They mockingly called this place the Graveyard, like the Elephant’s Graveyard, where hookers went to die. The bitches dancing here had stretch marks and bullet wounds and pussies that stank of skank. It was the perfect place for an out of the way meeting between two powerful lieutenants.

  “What’s good, yo. What you drinking?” Mac asked as the topless waitress approached.

  “Henny straight up.”

  “Make that two,” he told her.

  The waitress nodded and walked away.

  “Remember her?” Mac smirked.

  “Who? The waitress?”

  Mac nodded, eyeing him to see if he did.

  Cash squinted through the smoky darkness, watching her profile as she waited by the bar. She glanced over her shoulder a couple of times, but her expression was one of pure boredom and utter indifference.

  Cash shook his head. “Can’t say that I do.”

  “Kat.”

  He thought about it for a second, trying to place the name. “Kat?” Saying the word sparked the inner recognition, and he repeated, “Kat as in Kat Kat? Get the fuck out of here!”

  She returned with their drinks, Cash looked at her with a smile.

  “Katrina.”

  Her smile said she had already recognized them ,but it was nice to be recognized in return. “Cash, how you doin’? I see you still hangin’ around with trouble.”