Thug Lovin' Page 9

  Now Trae was standing up, ready to put the bills into her G-string.

  She bent over slowly, giving him an ass and pussy shot. As Trae slipped a few bills into her G-string he grabbed an ass cheek and planted a big fat juicy kiss on it. Tasha stood straight up and made it clap and jiggle. She then turned around, putting her back to the pole, sliding down, squatting and opening her legs. Trae couldn’t take any more. He crawled onto the platform and had his face in between her thighs. In a flash he had moved that G-string to the side and was tasting her pussy.

  As she slid slowly back up the pole, his face stayed glued to the inside of her thighs, until she eased his head away.

  He couldn’t take his eyes off of her as he sat down in his chair. She seductively stepped down off her throne and stood in front of him. He ran his hand up and down her thigh. His eyes glistened as she began to sway to R. Kelly and Public Announcement begging for that “Honey Love.”

  She began grinding on his dick with the intention of giving him a lap dance that he wouldn’t be able to forget. It was obvious that she was getting that result because he had gripped her thighs and was dry fucking her wet pussy.

  Realizing that he was about to nut, he lifted her up and led her to the glass wall. The club was jumping. She placed both hands on the cool glass wall, bent over and spread her legs. When she looked back his dick was in his hand and he was ready to put in work.

  “C’mon, Daddy. Make this pussy talk to you,” Tasha purred as he slid it inside of her, not stopping until her warmth sucked him all the way in.

  As he stroked they both felt exhilarated as they looked down onto the crowd that couldn’t see them. The lights, the people, the height… got the both of them off.

  “Shit,” Trae grunted as he pulled back, not wanting to come this soon. But Tasha reached back and grabbed his ass, pulling him back in. She threw her pussy back at him.

  “Make it talk,” she screamed as he came a few seconds before her.

  “Why’d you do that?” he panted. “I wasn’t ready to bust yet!”

  She giggled and was out of breath. “But I wanted you to.”

  “Well, you just blew a chance to get your back blown out.”

  “Nigga, you better bring my dick back to life,” she threatened. “Remember, this is my night.”

  “Then let me run the show,” he complained.

  “Trae… Never mind. I’m not going to argue. Why don’t you give me a lap dance now?”

  “Naw, you give me another one.”

  “It’s my night, Trae.”

  They argued and fucked for the rest of the night.

  Tasha went home with a smile plastered on her face.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Marvin promised Kyra he’d take her to UCLA to see what credits were transferred and which ones weren’t, but she would have to ride with him and Trae to take care of some business in the area. He pulled up in front of the university entrance and let Kyra out. She had some loose ends to tie up before the next semester started.

  “I’ll be right back.” She jumped out of the backseat and slammed the door.

  Trae was in the front seat admiring the architecture and landscaping surrounding the university campus. “You ever think about going to college?” he asked Marvin.

  “Hell to the naw. I’m retired. What I look like starting a new career? Why? Are you thinking about going back?”

  Trae pondered the thought for a minute. “Nah, it’s just that being here gives you that feeling.”

  “Nigga, if you want to go back then by all means go back. What’s stopping you? Other than a houseful of kids. Man, is you trying to get Tasha pregnant again? What you wanna do, start your own country?”

  “Nah man, she ain’t trying to get pregnant. Lately she’s been hinting about getting her physical therapy practice off the ground. I’m lucky to get the three in that I got.” Then his eyes went over to a young lady who looked like Tasha. She was standing at a table trying to sell what looked to be pictures. She then pushed a young man down into a chair, picked up a huge tablet and began drawing him. “I’ll be right back, man.”

  When Trae made it to the young lady’s table he was in for a surprise. Not only could she have passed for Tasha’s younger sister, but her art skills were exceptional. Then, on closer inspection of her features, he was in for the shock of his life.

  “Do I know you?” The artist stopped sketching the small guy who was seated in her chair. He looked Trae over and got up.

  “I changed my mind,” the customer snapped.

  “Wait a minute! You can’t do that. I’m almost done with your sketch.”

  “Then you should have finished!” The customer snatched up his backpack and stormed off.

  “I hate broke-ass college niggas,” the artist yelled at him.

  “You were wrong for stopping. I know I look good, but you weren’t supposed to allow my good looks to distract you. As you just witnessed it’s not good for business,” Trae told her.

  “I know that, but it wasn’t your good looks, you look familiar. Where are you from?” she asked.

  “Where are you from?” he shot back.

  She cocked her head to the side as she studied him some more. “I know that I know you.”

  “Yeah, they say we all got a twin. How long have you been drawing?”

  “It feels like all my life and the life before this one,” she laughed.

  “You got nice skills and I’m impressed.” Trae was checking out the sketches she had displayed across the table. “Do you do murals?” He turned to face her.

  “I haven’t, but I can. I can work on anything.”

  “Give me your card. I’ma throw some business your way.”

  “How soon?” She handed him a business card.

  He looked it over. DESIGNS BY SABEERAH. “Real soon, shorty. Real soon.” He headed back to Marvin’s truck.

  As soon as he got seated he dialed Bo.

  “Who the fuck is this calling me so early?” Bo growled into the phone after finally answering it.

  “Early? It’s almost noon, doughboy.”

  “Trae, what’s up, nigga? Fool, have you forgot, you three hours ahead of us?”

  “Three hours behind you, nigga, and that means it’s almost three o’clock in the fuckin’ afternoon, East Coast time.”

  That caused Bo to burst out laughing. “What’s up, my nigga?”

  “Yo, your mans and that videotape. You took care of that, right?”

  Bo was quiet for a couple of minutes as he figured out what Trae was talking about. “Nigga, I been told you that. What the fuck is wrong with you? Here you go, with yo scary ass! That shit happened damn near three years ago.”

  “Man, I just saw shorty.”

  “Who the fuck is shorty?” It took a minute before it dawned on Bo whom Trae was talking about. “Dawg, you seeing things, you know they say we all look alike.”

  “Bo, this is me you talkin’ to. Trust me, I know who I saw. And I rarely forget a face. Just check with her peoples to see if she’s going to UCLA, and named Sabeerah. Hit me back.” Trae hung up and looked over at a baffled Marvin.

  “What’s up, man?” Marvin asked.

  Just then Kyra jumped into the backseat. “Baby, I am so mad I could scream.” Marvin turned around and looked back at her. “What’s the matter?”

  “These are some racist muthafuckas. That’s what’s the matter. They are trying to make me take four of my classes over! This is bullshit!” she snapped.

  “Did you talk to who was in charge?”

  “Yes,” she pouted.

  “Did you talk to his boss?” Marvin continued.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you talk to his boss?”

  “It was a her and no. She’s not in.”

  “Well, do that before you give up. My baby is a fighter and we don’t take no for an answer.”

  She ran her hands over her face. “I will die if I have to take these classes over.”

  �
�It ain’t over yet. We are going to talk to her boss and then if that don’t work, we’ll just transfer to a college that will take all of your credits. This ain’t the only college in town. Right?”

  “Baby, you know this is where I had my heart set on going.”

  “You want me and my little friend to go and make them an offer they can’t refuse?” Trae asked her, mimicking Al Pacino’s character from the movie Scarface.

  “No, Trae, but thanks. We have to do this right. We didn’t relocate out here to catch a case. We are starting clean, remember?”

  “Oh, I forgot,” Trae teased. “Sorry about that.”

  “Sure you are. You know you meant it.”

  * * *

  It was a Saturday morning and Tasha was running around the house trying to get out. The kids were driving her crazy and it seemed as if the phone had been ringing nonstop.

  “Aisha, let the twins play with their toys, not your dolls. Okay?”

  “Okay, Auntie Tasha,” Aisha said with little enthusiasm.

  Aisha made it her mission to make her way over to Tasha’s every chance she got to help out with the twins. To her, they were life-size baby dolls. And today was no exception. She not only called herself looking out for the boys, but keeping their room straightened up as well.

  The doorbell and the phone were ringing.

  “Auntie Tasha, the doorbell,” Aisha called out.

  “I got it,” Marva yelled.

  “I got the door, Aunt Marva. You can get the phone.” Tasha headed for the front door. “Your friends have been calling all morning wondering why you didn’t come shopping with them. Why aren’t you going out with your girls? It’s Saturday,” Tasha yelled out hoping she would catch the hint to get out of the house and do something.

  Tasha pulled back the front door curtain to see a deliveryman. Baffled, she opened the front door and asked, “Can I help you?”

  “Is this the Macklin residence?”

  “Yes it is. I’m Mrs. Macklin.”

  “Is Trae Macklin home?”

  “No, he’s not. I told you I’m Mrs. Macklin. How can I help you?”

  “Uh, okay,” the surfer kid said. “Can you sign right here?” He pointed to a yellow arrow. “And right here.” He pointed to another arrow.

  “What did my husband order?”

  The delivery kid tore off the copies of the transaction and handed them to Tasha. “A Harley-Davidson.” He then handed her a big envelope with the keys and other documents.

  Tasha and the delivery kid both stood there as the other deliverymen unloaded the truck and sat a brand-new top-of-the-line Harley in the driveway.

  “What’s all the commotion?” Aunt Marva came to the door carrying Caliph.

  “Your nephew bought a new toy and didn’t even tell me. A dangerous one at that.”

  “A motorcycle? Since when did he ride those things?” Marva shrieked.

  Tasha was just shaking her head. “I don’t have the slightest idea. I can’t wait to hear what brought this on and if I don’t like it, it’s going back. The nigga even had the nerve to get it wrapped with a red bow tie.”

  “Have a good day.” The delivery kid waved and jumped into the truck.

  “Can I see?” Aisha was trying to squeeze in between Marva and Tasha, who were blocking the doorway.

  Tasha left them standing there to go check on the twins, who were in the family room. Shaheem and Caliph were watching Super Why! and Kareem was still playing with his toys. Tasha sat down and thumbed through the paperwork. She frowned when she saw that the delivery address was the offices of Li, Hammerstein and Burke from Ms. Charli Li. “That bitch! That sneaky-ass ho! She is just determined to disrespect me.”

  “Concita,” she yelled out. “Come in here with the boys, please. I have to go do something real quick.”

  “Can me and the twins go?” Aisha asked.

  “No, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I just need to run upstairs.”

  When she got upstairs, she began ransacking Trae’s things, looking for a number. She finally yelled, “Bingo!” She held up the business card and went over to the phone and dialed the number, only to be greeted by the voice mail. She then pressed zero to get transferred to the switchboard.

  “Good afternoon, law offices of Li, Hammerstein and Burke.”

  “I need to speak to Charli Li.”

  “I’m sorry, but Ms. Li is usually out of the office on Saturdays. Would you like to leave a message or have one of our other associates call you back?”

  “No, but tell Charli that Mr. Macklin’s wife Tasha called to inform her that her little gift was unprofessional and disrespectful. And if she keeps on fuckin’ with me she will see what an East Coast ass-whipping is firsthand. As a matter of fact, tell her if she doesn’t get her little confused ass over here to pick it up personally, I will have it stripped and sell the pieces to a junkyard.”

  The operator paused. “Um, can I have your name and number again?”

  “The name is Tasha Macklin and the bitch has the number and my address.” Tasha hung up. She then went and put on her sneakers, put her hair into a ponytail and headed for the basement, almost knocking Marva over.

  She grabbed a can of black spray paint, a pair of gloves and a baseball bat. She then ran back up the stairs. This time Marva stood blocking the basement doorway. “What are you doing, chile?”

  “That Chinese bitch bought that motorcycle for Trae.”

  “Oh? Oooh.” Marva slowly moved to the side as Tasha whizzed by.

  “You and Concita, be sure to keep Aisha and the kids in the house for me.”

  When she got outside, she put the gloves on. She looked at the bat and the spray paint and tossed the bat on the ground. She stood back and began shaking the spray paint.

  Marva’s fingers couldn’t dial Trae’s number fast enough.

  “Auntie, what’s good?” Trae asked, sounding as if he was chilling.

  “I suggest you get your ass home to your wife ASAP.”

  “Why, what’s the matter?” Trae sat up straight. His seat was in the reclined position as he drove around the town with Marvin.

  Aunt Marva looked out the window and Tasha was spraying black spray paint all over the brand spanking new Harley-Davidson.

  “Your wife has gone mad. You need to get here as soon as possible.”

  “Auntie, you gotta tell me more than that. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Watch your mouth, boy! All I know it’s concerning a Chinese bitch and a package being delivered.” She hung up.

  Trae looked at the phone and frowned. Marvin saw the puzzled look on his face. “What’s up?”

  “I don’t know, man.” He called his house and this time Concita answered the phone.

  “Concita, what kind of package came for me today?”

  “Oh yes, Mr. Macklin. You got a big shiny motorcycle on the front grass. And your wife, Missus Macklin, she must not like it because she runs through the house looking for cans of paint. And me and Missus Marva have the kids and your wife is outside spraying and painting.” Concita rambled away.

  “What? Slow down, Concita. She’s spraying and painting what?”

  “The big shiny motorcycle on the front grass. We all standing here watching her. But no one doing anything. Oh, Jesus. Aye yiyi yi yi,” Concita gasped.

  “Concita, what is going on?”

  She held her heart as she watched Tasha swing the baseball bat as if she were hitting home runs. She was trying her best to crush the Harley-Davidson to tiny pieces. “Missus Macklin has a baseball bat and she hitting and beating de bike. But Mr. Macklin, this is your house. Your business. I just here for de kids. None of my business,” Concita said.

  “Thank you, Concita.” Trae ended the call with Concita and began dialing Charli’s cell phone but got no answer.

  “What’s up?” Marvin tried to find out what was going on. They pulled up into the club parking lot and got out. “What’s up, nigga?” Trae had his back to Marvin. Tr
ae ignored Marvin as he continued to try and reach Charli. Marvin followed Trae into the club, all the way to his office.

  “Yo, what’s up with you? Are you sending shit to my house?” Trae finally reached her.

  “Ooh, straight to the point,” Charli purred as she spun around in her chair. “I heard that you were thinking about a Harley, so I had one brought over. No big deal.”

  “Don’t send shit to my house.”

  “Was it the color?” Charli was very calm when she asked him that.

  “Yo.” Trae couldn’t even finish his sentence. All he could do was laugh since he had been caught off guard by her response. “No, it wasn’t the color,” he mocked her.

  “What color would you like? Just say it and it’s done.”

  “Charli, listen to me. You don’t have to buy shit for me, and definitely don’t be sending shit to my house. I’m telling you that for your own good.”

  “So, I see that it is not the color, it’s the wife. Maybe I’ll stop by with someone and have them pick it up. Maybe I won’t. However, I’m not one to be denied so I suggest that you handle her.” Charli hung up the phone.

  Trae looked at the phone. “Ain’t this a bitch.”

  “What?” Stephon barged into the office smacking on an apple.

  Marvin was sitting there grinning since he had ear hustled enough to know what had just gone down.

  Trae called his house and Marva picked up.

  “Hello.”

  “Let me speak to my wife.”

  “Boy, she ain’t thinking about no phone. She too busy out there banging up that damn motorbike. I told you to get your ass here ASAP.”