Thugs And The Women Who Love Them Read online

  “I’m listening.”

  “This is the last fucking time we have a fight. Trust and believe, if you ever hit me again, I’m gonna blow your fucking brains out. Look at this fuckin’ knot on my head.” She examined it again in the mirror. “The last time. Do you understand me?”

  “I hear you.”

  “I know you hear me. But do you understand? Tell me you fuckin’ understand!” she yelled.

  “I understand, baby. Damn!”

  Snake inched up closer to her, resting his hard dick on her soft behind. Angel didn’t protest. It felt good, but she was trying not to let Snake know it.

  “Look, baby, all I’m saying is that you always look good to me. When you wake up in the morning, if you got a big knot on your forehead, it don’t matter. You could be wearing rags!”

  Snake reached up and started playing with her nipples. They both watched in the mirror as her nipples got harder. Angel’s cheeks were turning redder.

  “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to lose my temper like that,” he whispered in her ear.

  “I’m not one of your whores, Keenan.” She refused to call him by his nickname.

  “I know, baby. You know I love you, and I never mean to hurt you,” Snake whispered in her ear.

  “Then why in the hell did you come in here hitting me like that?”

  “Because, baby, I told you I didn’t want you around that nigga Dwayne. He ain’t shit! Study group or no fuckin’ study group.”

  “I told you we have two classes together. He’s a square, and there is no attraction there. You are my man. Why can’t you just let it go? How could you be so fucking insecure?”

  “I know, baby, but you’re spending just a little too much time with him and I already told you I don’t like it. I’m a pimp, baby. I know who’s a square and who ain’t.”

  “You don’t own me, Keenan. I have to handle my business.”

  Snake’s hands were already sliding up under Angel’s skirt and he was sliding her panties down. He slipped two fingers up her pussy and licked her neck. Her pussy quickly became drenched with her love juices. I knew she was turned on, Snake thought to himself. I don’t know why she likes to play hard.

  Angel, mumbling through her moans, told Snake to postpone this and come over later, because her mom and little sister were in the next room. Snake, ignoring her, pushed her over and unzipped his Versace pants. They fell to the floor. He put on a condom and then rammed his rod into her pussy in one quick motion. Angel shrieked in pleasure.

  “Damn, baby, that feels sooooo good,” she moaned as the hot juices flowed down her thighs. Snake stroked and stroked until Angel’s body started twitching, then went limp. She sprawled out over the dresser. Snake, still deep inside her, leaned over and kissed her neck roughly.

  “I’ll catch up with you later.” He pulled out and pulled off the condom, fixed his clothes and walked out of the bedroom. Angel was still sprawled across the dresser trying to catch her breath.

  Julia was still posted at her desk doing paperwork, while Angel’s twelve-year-old sister, Carmen, had her head stuck in the refrigerator. Neither one of them said anything to Snake as he walked out the front door.

  Chapter 3

  Snake closed the apartment door and headed down the hallway toward the elevator. As he pushed the down button, his cell phone vibrated. He flipped open the phone.

  “I have a Nell calling collect. Will you accept the charges?” It was the dry voice of an operator.

  “Yeah,” said Snake.

  “What’s up?” Snake asked irritably.

  “I’ve been calling you all day. Where the hell you been and why haven’t you been answering the phone? I could’ve been dying!” Big Nell complained.

  “Don’t ask me questions. I run this shit!” Snake yelled into the phone.

  Big Nell was Snake’s oldest whore. She had been on the stroll for Snake for almost six years now, and she lived up to her name. She had big eyes, a big mouth, big legs, big tits, and a big, big ass. The white johns were in love with her, but Snake was noticing that her mouth was getting feistier than usual. It was probably because he’d been too busy to put his size eleven snakeskin shoes up her wide ass. He was going to do that as soon as he saw her.

  “I got busted last night at the Radisson. It’s seventeen hundred to bail me out.”

  “You was lying on your back for seven hours and you don’t have seventeen hundred? You think I’m crazy?”

  “Snake, baby, the police took all my money, and I even had to suck two of their dicks. I’ll get everything back for you.”

  Snake hung up on her. The elevator still didn’t come.

  “Damn thing must be broke,” he muttered. “I wish she would move out this building.”

  Snake headed for the stairs. At the bottom of the first flight he noticed one of his whores. Lexus was six feet tall with a beautiful body, but her greatest asset was those pretty, long curvaceous legs. She looked like Tyra Banks. She was sitting at the top of the stairwell in the corner in a deep nod, her beige, silk, T-strap Chanel dress clinging tightly to her curves. Her thighs were exposed and her long legs stretched to the third step. Her hair hung wildly and saliva spilled out of the corner of her mouth. Lexus was totally oblivious to everything around her, including mean-ass Snake hovering over her.

  I know this bitch ain’t high, Snake thought to himself. He grabbed her arm to examine it and to confirm the needle holes scarring her pretty, brown complexion. She didn’t even feel Snake holding her arm up.

  “You dumb bitch!” he yelled as he kicked her on the thigh.

  Lexus jumped up and slurred, “Hey, Daddy, I feel so sick. I was just sitting here resting and waiting for you.” She rubbed her thigh where Snake had just kicked her.

  He slapped her in the face.

  “You lying bitch! How are you waitin’ on me and you didn’t even know I was here?”

  Snake grabbed her little Fendi bag and emptied the contents on the stairwell floor. A bottle of Obsession, a half pack of Newports, condoms, one hundred and eighty dollars, two bags of dope and the works to go with it, fell onto the steps.

  Lexus’s eyes grew wide in terror as Snake examined the purse contents. Lexus knew what was coming.

  “Give me the rest of my damn money!” Snake’s words sliced through Lexus’s stomach.

  Her trembling hands slid between her legs and pulled out a plastic bag. She handed the money to Snake and tried to apologize her way out of an ass whipping. As he counted the money, fear was beginning to make her high wear off. He put the three hundred and forty dollars into his wallet. Lexus’s knees got weak as she felt his cold eyes staring at her.

  “Lexus.” He stared into her eyes. “You know the fuckin’ policy. No drugs! Daddy ain’t wastin’ his fuckin’ money on dope. That’s money that goes on this fuckin’ Chanel dress you got on.” He slapped her. “That’s money that goes for the nice fuckin’ roof I keep over your head!”

  He grabbed her around her neck and tried his best to choke her to death. When Snake got mad at his whores he lost all of his common sense. Instead of thinking logically that these women were his bread and butter, he would try his best to kill them. He had succeeded with four of them in the past.

  Lexus was kicking and trying to pull Snake’s tight grip from around her neck. Her complexion was no longer chocolate coffee. It was now blue. With one quick motion, he slung her down the flight of stairs. Her body slammed against the stairwell door. Snake walked down the flight of stairs and picked her up. He started to punch her in the face. As she weakly tried to cover herself from the brutal blows, he dropped her to the floor and started kicking her. The kicks turned to stomps. Lexus could no longer breathe. Her entire body felt numb.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please stop it, Daddy!” She cried. “I swear that was my last fix,” she cried out.

  Snake was startled that she had that much energy left to talk. He stood still and just stared at her, breathing heavy.

  ��Get your dope fiend ass up. Go somewhere and clean up.”

  He straightened out his clothes and went toward the front exit. Pimpin’ ain’t easy, he thought to himself.

  When he walked out into the fresh air he almost tripped over Angel’s homegirls. Here stood Roz, Jaz, and Kyra, who was Angel’s first cousin.

  “This ain’t my fucking day,” he said.

  “Seeing you don’t make it our fucking day either,” Kyra replied.

  He disliked the threesome, and he knew the feelings were mutual. There was especially bad blood between him and Kyra. Angel always took Kyra’s side over Snake’s when there was a problem, and that drove him crazy. But he still had to give them their props. At least they were trying to do something with their lives. They were determined not to let the ghetto take them out.

  Kyra noticed the fresh slash across Snake’s cheek and the blood on his shirt.

  “You prick! If she’s hurt I’m gonna kill you myself, you fake-ass pimp,” she yelled. “I hate you! I don’t know why her crazy ass won’t leave you alone.”

  “Fuck him!” yelled Roz. “If she’s hurt, we’re coming after you.” She pointed at Snake.

  “All of you bitches can go to hell. That’s my woman. I’m fucking her, not y’all,” he said with a sarcastic grin.

  That’s just why I don’t like them. They got too much mouth, he thought to himself as he turned and walked to his Benz.

  “You’re gonna get yours. You watch!” Jaz yelled. When the trio reached the apartment and rang the buzzer, Angel’s little sister Carmen answered the door. They pushed her aside and ran straight to Angel’s bedroom. When they saw the hole in the door they started screaming Angel’s name. She was already in the bathroom cleaning herself up. The crew looked around the room. It was still in shambles. The closet door was wide open, showing the open shoe boxes, shoes, and clothes all over the floor. Jaz ran to the bathroom door and started banging on it.

  Angel came out of the bathroom all cleaned up, looking fine except for the knot on her forehead. Her long tresses were pulled back into a ponytail. She wore some form-fitting Filth Mart jeans and a white Prada belly blouse.

  Jaz, who was the most perceptive of the crew, looked at the glow on Angel’s face and assessed the situation.

  “After he whipped your ass you fucked him, didn’t you?” She sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, not giving Angel a chance to answer. “What is the matter with you? One of these days he’s gonna kill you. What do you see in that fuckin’ pimp?” She was furious.

  “I can’t help it.” Angel burst out crying. All three girls rushed over to Angel and surrounded her in a group hug.

  “Damn you, Angel,” Kyra said.

  “I can’t help it. It’s just that this is the kind of relationship we have. You wouldn’t understand. We’ve been together for almost two years, and I love him. I’m crazy about him. He’s responsible, and he helps us out a whole lot. If it wasn’t for him my college tuition wouldn’t be paid. And when my mom got sick we would have been in the streets. Plus,”—she gave them a sly smile—“I whip his ass. Y’all know he got the bruises to show it.”

  They all burst out laughing.

  “I ain’t scared of that ma’fucka.” Angel was trying to sound like Bernie Mac. “I laid down the law tonight and told him no more fighting or else I’ma blow his fuckin’ brains out.”

  “Well, your hot ass is gonna end up dead, and I ain’t going to the funeral,” Kyra said. “I am sick and tired of both of you.”

  “Please, can y’all help me clean up this mess?” Angel pleaded.

  Chapter 4

  Angel was born Angel Denise Smith, second oldest of four children. When she was born, her mother looked at her high yellow skin, hazel eyes, and silky dark brown hair and immediately knew she should be called Angel. As she grew, everyone always remarked that she was the spitting image of her mother. She was tall and slender at 5 feet 10 inches, and for some reason, until the 7th grade she still had all her baby teeth. The girls would call her stuck up, or Miss Prissy, when she was growing up. And they were right—Angel was beautiful and she knew it.

  Her mother, Julia Smith, had been an insurance agent for the last eight years, but before that she worked in the hospital cafeteria as head cook. Angel’s father was a foreman at one of the biggest auto paint shops in the city. Everyone called him Big Red because he was 6 feet 5 inches and high yellow, with dark red hair. Between Big Red and Julia both holding down steady employment, Angel and her siblings were raised with a little more comfort than most of the other kids growing up in the hood.

  Angel loved and looked up to her eldest brother, Willie Right. He earned the nickname Willie Right because he always insisted he was right, even when he knew he was wrong.

  When Angel was only nine years old and he was fourteen, she remembered how Willie Right was bragging to everyone. His daddy, Big Red, was going to get him a moped dirt bike for Christmas. He went so far as to carry the picture of the black and red motorbike in his back pocket to flash to anyone who was interested. He told nine-year-old Angel, and Mark, who was eight, that he was not going to give them a ride on it because they were too little. This was a big kid’s bike.

  He bragged about the dirt bike for months. He even brought home straight A’s on his report card the semester before Christmas just to make sure. He wanted to hear no excuses when it was time for Big Red to deliver.

  All of Willie’s friends looked up to him. He had both of his parents living at home, his clothes were nicer than the rest of the crew’s, and he was very smart. Plus, Willie Right always scored with the hottest girls. He would leave out no details when telling his partners about his scores. Willie Right was living large in their eyes, plus, they couldn’t wait to ride around on the dirt bike with Willie, in front of all the honeys.

  As Christmas neared, Big Red started to give more thought to the idea of his eldest son riding on a motor dirt bike. He discussed it with Julia. The more he thought about it, the more he disliked the idea. It was dangerous, and too many of the kids were getting jacked for their expensive things. He had enough problems keeping Willie off the drugs and out of trouble. He was not about to lose his son over a bike. So Big Red decided to buy all three of his kids Schwinn ten-speed bicycles. Of course, Angel and Mark were ecstatic, but Willie was pissed off. He had his heart set on that black and red dirt bike. Plus, he had his boys and the honeys to impress. Dangerous didn’t matter to Willie Right.

  When Willie’s homeboys found out that Willie got a bicycle instead of the motorbike, they clowned him something awful. So Willie, furious and embarrassed as hell, made him a pipe bomb, went down to the auto paint shop where Big Red worked, and torched the joint. Willie was smart, but dumb enough to torch the joint in broad daylight. Even though the shop was closed, the few eyewitnesses in the area knew he was Big Red’s son. And everybody knew Big Red. Just about everything in the shop was flammable, so it didn’t take but a couple of minutes for a loud explosion and flames to reach the sky. The flames were so high the whole west side of town could see the smoke.

  Willie had made it safely home where he was posted on his front porch. He grinned as he watched the black smoke circle the clouds. His boys, Donny, Plug, Mo, and Justice sat down on his stairs and watched the smoke, listening to Willie Right, who knew he was wrong, describe how he made the pipe bomb and burned the shop down to the ground. They had been sitting there for almost an hour.

  “My dad loves that shop more than he loves me. Now who’s he going to love more?” Willie declared.

  Just as Willie got those words out of his mouth, nine police cars came flying down the street. All of his homeboys scattered like roaches running from a can of Raid. Willie ran into the house to get Big Red’s shotgun.

  When Julia saw what her fourteen-year-old son was doing, she ran toward him and tried her best to take the gun from him.

  “I ain’t going out like that!” He kept screaming.

  Angel and Mark stood watching as Willie pushed their mom down and bolted for the door.

  “Get upstairs! Now!” Julia screamed at Angel and Mark.

  Angel and Mark didn’t move. They gazed out the window in horror at all the police cars, then at their big brother, holding their daddy’s big gun.

  “Put down the gun and put your hands up in the air!” screamed the officer through the bullhorn.

  “You put your gun down and put your hands up in the air!” yelled Willie.

  “I repeat, and this is my last time…”

  The sentence was interrupted when Willie cocked the shotgun and pointed it at the officer on the bullhorn.

  “Put the gun down, Willie,” sobbed Julia.

  “I repeat, put down your fucking gun and put your hands over your head!” yelled the police officer.

  Willie Right refused to put the gun down, and the trigger-happy police went to firing at Willie right there on the front porch. His body moved, jerked and fell as if he were in a movie and the scene was playing in slow motion. They shot him so many times that Willie’s tall, thin body was ripped and torn to pieces. Angel, Mark, and Julia watched the whole horrifying scene from the window. Now, Willie Right’s body pieces lay shredded up on their front porch.

  They didn’t even know that Big Red was outside in handcuffs, sitting in the back of one of the police cars. He had punched one of the police officers, and was even prepared to take the rap for his son. Instead, he watched helplessly as his son’s life was taken over a dirt bike that he refused to buy.

  Big Red was so distraught about the loss of his son that he left his family, never to be seen or heard from again. He didn’t even know that he left Julia pregnant. She was left alone to raise Angel, Mark, and the soon-to-be-born Carmen.

  Julia refused to go on welfare. She tried to make ends meet on her salary from the hospital cafeteria, but things were tough. Raising three kids was getting more and more expensive. She eventually lost the house that she and Big Red struggled so hard to keep, and had to move her family into the Roger Gardens projects.

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