Payback Is a Mutha Read online

  PAYBACK IS A MUTHA

  PAYBACK IS A MUTHA

  WAHIDA CLARK

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To my favorite uncle, John.

  The world would be a much better place

  if there were more men like you. RIP.

  Your favorite niece, Wahida

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgments

  All praise is forever due to the Creator. To my family and supporting cast, you all know who you are. Thank you for your continued support and dedication. I love each and every one of you.

  To all of my fans, there would be no me without you. I love y’all and thank you so much for your loyalty and support.

  To all of you authors out there trying to get published, stay focused and keep writing. This isn’t a process that happens overnight.

  Nikki Turner, I enjoy our visits, so as soon as you get your next breather come holla at your sister. My newest fam, Mark Anthony, you about as real as real can get. Don’t change and thanks for all of the books you send me. Brenda Thomas, thanks for your letters and I can’t wait for your next book. Relentless Aaron, the Grand-daddy of this new writing hustle, thanks for your words of wisdom. Darren Coleman, I appreciate the books you send me as well. They are all page-turners.

  To the other authors who send me books and shout-outs: K’wan, Carl Weber, A.J. Rivers, Mike Sanders, Marvin Ellison, Valencia Williams, Keisha Irvin, Darrin Lowery. I appreciate the love.

  Project Pat, don’t forget you told me you was gonna wear that FREE WAHIDA CLARK T-shirt on 106 and Park. Yup! I’m puttin’ you on blast. Now the whole world is waitin’ and watching. Glad you’re out. Can’t wait to hear what you puttin’ down in the studio. Money Mike Reid! It’s all about you, playboy. Let’s get this money. My little brother, Chi-Ali, I think I done spoiled you enough! Get to writing! Latif Lamar and the entire Paper Chase fam, stay up. My big brother, Al Saadiq Banks, you wrong for gettin’ ghost on your sis, but it’s all good. Caught ’em Slippin’ was tha bomb!

  Renay Coachman, you are da bomb! You know I got mad love for you for helping me decide on a title after mine got jacked and for reading everything I throw at ya. Other helpers on this project, Kim Moffet, Bridget, Twin (Lampkin), Tee Tee, Robyn, Andrea Walker, Dee Malloy, Mesha Honeycutt, my roommate, Angelia A. for her help, Brenda Walker, and Happy, thanks for the Memphis Tour. Baby Agnew, Jennifer Branch, Keisha Bruton, K.K. Walls, Maria, Adrienne, Jan Livingston, Kareenah, Ebony, Karen, Phyllis Smith, Angela F., TuTu, may your son RIP. Keep writing that poetry, and my prison mom, Dianna Sanchez, keep ya head up, Lashawn James thanks for the pens and the good meals, my other hair stylists Yolanda Burgess and Karen Brown along with the rest of the Alderson crew.

  Karen Thomas, editorial director at Kensington, I love the way you handle business and how you are always willing to listen to my feedback. Thanks Lydia Stein. Jeracha Estavez, you are the bomb diggity! Marc Gerald and Earl Cox, I appreciate the teeth you had to pull on my behalf. Keep doing what y’all do.

  To all of the bookstores, street vendors and book clubs, especially Raw Sistaz and Just Between Girlfriends, thank you.

  Oh, I can’t forget my brotha and partna, Kwame Teague. Your mind is awesome. Shout-out to Victor Martin, Joe Black, Buddy Row, Trick Daddy, C-Murda, Ce Ce Greathouse, Kaywan, and Seth “Soul Man” Ferranti.

  Last, but not least, to my loyal team: Fisepe “Ice” Vival, Mike Reid, Dempsey Nolan, Raphael Spencer, Ronald Thompson, Eric Van Buren, Stanley Bellamy, Tennette “Missey” Jackson, Steven Dixon, Aaron Bebo, William Ewing, Andre Garfield, Tysheem Crocker, Dontez Mack, Doggy Mac that Philly Cat, Intelligent Tareef Allah, Parish Sherman, Bonta, Jessie Leflore, Shawn “Jihad” Trump.

  Jules Rutledge of Felon magazine, thanks for the interview.

  I know I forgot some people. My original acknowledgments got lost, so I’m coming off the top. If I forgot you, forgive me and I got you on the next go-round.

  Holla at ya girl!

  Wahida Clark

  P.O. Box 8520

  Newark, NJ 07018

  Wahida [email protected]

  1

  SHAN AND BRIANNA

  “Gurrll, guess what?” Shan was almost jumping up and down as she shouted at her best friend Brianna through the phone.

  “Why are you screaming?” Brianna asked with obvious agitation.

  “I got the job, girl! I got the J-mutha fuckin’O-B!”

  “Which one? You done interviewed with damn near fifty thousand people.”

  “The computer instructor for the prison, FCI Memphis. They just hung up.”

  Brianna sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “It took them long enough. I would have changed my mind. I don’t see why you want to work for the prison system or work, period! All these niggas out here with money.”

  “Bitch, please! Everybody ain’t a gold diggin’ hoe like you. I need my own cash and I don’t want to suck dicks to get it!”

  “You better get with the program. What the fuck you think these niggas are for? There’s absolutely no excuse for bitches like us to be broke!” Brianna shrieked in bewilderment. “And the last time I checked you were talking to two niggas! Where are they! You ditched them? Sometimes I don’t understand your line of thinking.” Then she frowned. “Working at a prison?”

  “Bitch, just because you were in the BOP, and I choose to work for the BOP, don’t hate. Congratulate! Plus, I’ve only been kickin’ it with Calvin for a month. He likes me because he sees it ain’t all about the cash with me. I’d rather get my own and have my own.”

  “Girlfriend, please! Do you hear yourself? Like I said, you better step up your game and get with the program. You can fall for that weak shit if you want. That nigga knows it’s all about the cash. Niggas ain’t nothin’ but tricks.”

  “Do you, B, ’cause you know I’ma do me, so are you down to help me celebrate or what?”

  “Like I said, if you were on top of your game—”

  “Girl,” Shan interrupted, “I bet you even hustle niggas in your sleep! Don’t you?”

  They both burst out laughing. Brianna knew for sure that Shan was telling the truth. “Let me make a few phone calls and I’ll call you around nine. Dress to impress. You know I gotta kill two birds with one stone. I’ma celebrate with you and see who I can get with later.” Brianna said.

  “Yeah, I know how you do. But don’t worry about me dressing to impress. You just make sure you are here by nine. Don’t call at nine. Be here at nine! Peace out.”

  “Wait. What are you getting ready to do?” Brianna asked.

  “Take a beauty nap. What you think?”

  “Whatever, hoe. Do you.”

  “I’m trying. Peace.”

  After Brianna hung up the phone she dialed Yolanda, her hairdresser. “Landa, what’s up? This is Brianna.”

  “I know who this is.” She snapped. “What do you want? I have two bitches under the dryer, two at the sinks, the one in my chair and three waiting. You just came here two days ago, so no, I can�
��t squeeze you in!” Yolanda rattled off.

  Brianna sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “How do you know that’s why I’m calling?”

  Brianna was busted.

  “Hoe, I know you, so stop playing games. I told you I’m busy.”

  “Too busy for an eight-pack on top of what I usually pay?” Yolanda was thinking. Her regular fee plus an eight ball of coke? “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” Brianna snapped back. “What’s the best time to come?”

  “Be here at two, Brianna. Not two fifteen, two thirty. And bring my shit!”

  Brianna hung up without responding.

  She stood in front of the mirror as she pinned up her $1,200 weave. “Where should we go tonight?” she asked the mirror. It was Friday night, and she wanted to take full advantage of it. Her girl, Shan, loved the hip-hop clubs, but B’s first preference was anything where the real ballers hung, so she knew she had to choose the spot.

  Her and Shan had been friends since the third grade. Everyone thought that they were family. Shan was closer to Brianna than her own blood sister. Unforeseen forces bound them closer together, like when Shan’s parents were killed in that fatal car accident, and when Brianna got pregnant in the seventh grade and her mother put her out. They really leaned on one another. Even though Brianna lost the baby, her mother still wouldn’t take her back. When social services came and took Shan and her brother, Peanut, away, Brianna was homeless. When a relative came and rescued them from the group home, that’s when they took Brianna off the streets. Her mother didn’t allow her back home until she went to the tenth grade.

  Other than their copper complexions, they were night and day in just about every way. Brianna had those full pouty lips, while Shan had dainty sensuous ones. Brianna’s nose was full; Shan’s was a cute little button. Brianna’s onion screamed, “Goddamn!” Shan’s onion screamed, “Dayuum!” Brianna was tall and Shan was short. Brianna had to wear Gucci, Prada, and Chanel, while Shan preferred Sean John, Baby Phat, and FUBU. Brianna had the weave, fake nails, and boob job, while Shan had the locks, sported her real nails and refused to do the makeup thing. Brianna went to prison, while Shan now chose to work at a prison. Brianna lived large off the ballers, while Shan preferred the legit businessman or blue collar worker. Which is why everyone couldn’t figure out how they remained so close over the years.

  During Brianna’s eighteen month prison bid the only three people who stuck by her was Shan, Peanut and one of her sugar daddys by the name of Nick. He kept money on her books and allowed her to run up his phone bill. She had mad love for Nick but she had been out now for almost a year and he felt like she still owed him. Brianna had recently told him that she gave him enough pussy to consider her debt paid in full.

  Upon hearing the phone ring, Brianna snatched it up. “Hello.”

  “What up, B?”

  “You.”

  “You don’t even know who this is.”

  “Oh, I know who this is,” she teased. “There is only one Shadee.”

  “Act like you know, girl! I thought I was gonna have to tap that ass. I need to swing by later on.”

  “Around what time? I got a hair appointment and me and my girl is going out. Can you come before six?”

  “That’ll work.”

  “Be on time, please.”

  “I got you.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right.” She hung up and immediately called Hook.

  When Hook answered Brianna said, “Okay, nigga, I don’t owe you nothing else. Your boy said he’ll be here around six, which means eight. So handle yours.”

  “Handle mines?” he asked, sounding pissed off. “We straight as long as it’s worth my while.”

  “Look nigga, that ain’t got shit to do with me. I called you and it’s on so now we are even. Ya heard?”

  Hook didn’t say anything for a minute. “Bitch, it’s over when I say it’s over! Ya heard?”

  Brianna sighed as she slammed down the phone. “How in the fuck did I ever get involved with a sorry, punk ass nigga like that?” she said through clenched teeth.

  Shadee didn’t show up until a quarter after eight. When Brianna opened the door he grabbed her by her hair and gave her a big sloppy kiss. “What up, B?” he asked while squeezing her ass. His six foot two inch rich chocolate frame filled up the doorway. His white du rag was tied so tight it was making his already chinky eyes looked closed.

  “I’m on my way out. My girl is waiting on me. When it comes to me you never have a concept of the time, do you?”

  “Time is always on our side, B. And it’s time to break me off a little sumthin’ sumthin’.” He grinned, causing that left dimple to wink.

  “I don’t think so. If you would have come a little earlier time would have been on your side. But, I’m dressed, ready to go and my girl is waiting on me.”

  “So, B, it’s like that?”

  “Right this minute? Yeah!” She tried to move his hands off her ass. “You always puttin’ me on the back burner.”

  “Let me break you off, then,” he whispered into her ear. “You can spare a few minutes for that, can’t you?”

  Brianna really didn’t have to think that one over because Shadee could give tha bomb head. It felt like he had two tongues and like he put his nose in it.

  “That got your attention, huh?” He laughed, sucked on her luscious lips some more, then picked her up and took her to the bedroom. “When are you gonna settle down for me?”

  She slipped off her dress as soon as he put her down. “When can you settle down for me?” She flipped it.

  “Why you gotta always answer my question with a question?” He slapped her on the ass.

  “Oowww! Why’d you do that?” She rolled her eyes at him.

  “Answer my question.” He watched her nipples stick out as he played with them.

  “That feels good.” She slid back onto the bed, spread her thighs and ran her feet across his chest. “Can I answer you later?” She moaned as he licked the inside of her thighs.

  “Yeah, I guess you can do that,” he said as he spread her swollen pussy lips, smiled at the sight of her clit sticking straight out and sucked one of his favorite juicy pussies until he couldn’t suck anymore.

  As Brianna washed up, Shadee packed in a bag six kilos of powder, 8Gs, and he took two of those and threw them on the coffee table for Brianna. “Yo, B!” he called. Brianna’s apartment was one of the spots he used as a stash spot.

  As Hook and his boy Rob sat in the car waiting for Shadee and watching his Benz, Shadee was kissing B on the lips. “Can I come by later?”

  “Call me, okay?”

  “Give me another kiss.” He leaned over and kissed her, then headed out the door.

  “Here comes our boy.” Rob was anxious as hell as he grabbed his pipe and they sprang from the car. As Shadee went to unlock the car door Rob smashed him over the head with the pipe, causing Shadee to let out a loud grunt as he fell over. Hook grabbed the black duffel bag, then him and Rob stuffed Shadee’s limp body onto the backseat. Hook started the car and as soon as he got it out of park a forest green Hummer blocked him in and out jumped five of Shadee’s boys.

  2

  SHAN

  “Who is it?”

  “Who you expecting?”

  A smile lit up Shan’s face as she opened the door for her brother Peanut and his boy Nick who used to be Brianna’s sugar daddy. “I wasn’t expecting you.” She pushed up on her tippy toes and kissed him on the cheek. “So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “What you trying to say?” he asked as he walked in, inspecting her apartment with Nick right behind him.

  “Boy, don’t even try it. I ain’t trying to say nothing—I said it! Why you walking through my house like you the social worker or somebody?” She teased him as she followed behind him. “Have a seat, Nick.”

  Even though he wouldn’t say it, Peanut liked the gray and mauve color scheme she had going on throughout the entire apartment. But
when you got to the bedroom it was full of black lacquer, red, yellow, light blue, and purple. It was weird. It was as if you had stepped into another apartment.

  “What? You tryna hide something or somebody?” He closed her bedroom door.

  “Not from you.” She pushed him into the living room onto the sofa. She plopped down beside him. Peanut had been her mother, father, brother, and best friend since their parents were killed. Which caused them to have a very tight bond. “I don’t know why you tryna front. Just say it. ‘Baby sis, I just love your beautiful apartment. It’s better and cleaner than what all my hoes got.’”

  Peanut just smiled at her and Nick burst out laughing. “Oh, so you got jokes? It’s not better than mines.”

  “Yeah, right. But guess what?” She could barely contain herself.

  “What?”

  “I got the job and guess which one?” She was now off of the couch and hopping up and down.

  “You making me dizzy. Sit your happy ass down.”

  “C’mon, Peanut. Guess which one?”

  “I give up Shan, so tell me.”

  “You ain’t no fun no more. The prison job. I got the computer instructor job I was telling you about.” Shan plopped back down next to Peanut once she saw the look on his face.

  “You know I don’t want you working at a men’s prison. What if a riot or something breaks out? You the police Sis. You ain’t gonna get no special treatment,” concern evident in his voice.