Ties to the Hood Read online

  “You aren’t thinking of bailing Phil out, are you? You know he belongs there. If he’d just listened to you about the drugs and money, he wouldn’t be in this mess. You have much bigger and better deals going on, baby. There’s no way you can afford to get caught up in his shit.” Porsha was talking, but Shun was busy rolling a blunt and drowning her out. He was loving the sex, but he could do without all the talking. She could even refrain from cooking. He could take care of himself, make a mean steak and eggs, so her time was actually up. Shun didn’t plan on sharing the blunt.

  “So what time you getting up, girl? You know I got to make this money. I have a meeting with Frankie this morning, and I don’t want to be late.” Shun never looked up from his blunt. He was caressing and licking it closed so seductively, Porsha started to shift in her seat a bit. She was turned on by Shun in more ways than she would like to admit. She had to have him.

  Porsha wasn’t a girl who was easily persuaded by men. They talk a lot about nothing, and she was all about action. She enjoyed Shun’s company because he wasn’t real big on talking about what he had or what he could get. He was all about action. That turned her on. She was money hungry, yes, but she wasn’t a lazy bitch. She would do the wifey thing, protect and serve when needed, just as long as she was taken care of as well.

  Shun took two puffs of his blunt and started to get his shirt and tie together. “What you think of this blue, Ma?” Shun finally spoke as his high was rejuvenating his sense of sociability.

  “It looks good, babe, as always. Are we going to talk about Phil?”

  “No. You are going to get dressed and get ready to go. I lock my doors when I leave the home. No one is left behind.” Shun lowered his eyes at Porsha to indicate he meant business.

  Porsha couldn’t deny she felt some type of way. How in the hell can he just toss me out like I was just some skank from the club? she thought.

  “For real, Shun?” Porsha began to get her clothes together with many thoughts traveling around her brow. Shun was the kind of guy that was serious about whatever he put his mind to. He was different from junior high and high school, but he was someone she could see herself settling down with. Dancing in the club wasn’t who she was. She was a dancer, yes, but her first pick wasn’t sliding down some stripper pole. Most didn’t get out the hood. Shun did, and that was motivation enough. Porsha didn’t know exactly what he was doing, but hanging around with Phil was not in his best interest. Phil was still running around town like he the king or some shit.

  “It’s simple really. I’m about ma bread. You, you about all this love shit, and right now, that’s not what I need. I have to keep my mind clear. My moves are all monetary. I don’t have time to cater to a woman. I fuck somethin’, and then I go home or they bounce.”

  Porsha’s nose flared at Shun’s ignorance. “So, money is your game plan. What is Phil’s role? How is he going to aid you in this whole money-over-bitches outlook?”

  “Now, see, this is part of the problem as well. You talking.”

  “Talking?”

  “Yes, talking. You’re adding your two cents in matters that don’t concern you. It’s about me, making my bread. If you must know, my cousin ain’t exactly on my team just yet. I ain’t sayin’ that like niggas don’t trust ’im. I’m sayin’ I just know he ain’t ready. Phil gettin’ caught up in bullshit. So I will say this and only once more. Fuck love, fuck all this lovey-dovey shit: babe, this and that, let me cook for you, cater to you, etc. I take care of my own needs. I’m a man. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about what this is. I like you. You a bad one, and I must say wife material, but I can’t go there with you right now.”

  “So, this is it? You have got to be kidding me, Shun. Just look at you. Fancy. So handsome. But such an arrogant asshole. What, you think you better than me, soldier boy? You were nothing but a scrawny nerd that could shoot a basketball.”

  “Mannnnn, Get outta here with all that bullshit. Spare me the basketball Hall of Fame and patriotism act. This country ain’t did shit for me. I know you can dance.” Shun smirked. “I ain’t talkin’ all that pole shit. So don’t get butt hurt. I remember your dance classes and gigs.” Shun licked his lips as he smiled, but he quickly recovered from his path down memory lane and got back to the point.

  “Honestly, Porsha, if you want this to be a one-time thing, then it is what it is. Or you can accept the situation, slide through when I call, or when I say it’s good and we do us. Other than that, if you gon’ be with this drama about relationships and butting in where your nose clearly shouldn’t be, then I will cut you off.”

  Porsha swallowed the lump in her throat. She was so appalled by Shun’s illustration of her worth she wanted to slug ’im. She knew better than that shit, though. She wasn’t afraid of an ass whoopin’, but Shun carried a different sort of pain that bled into a fury or rage that would easily turn murderous. He was quiet when he was about to pounce. The muscles in his jaw presented, but his face seemed calm, not strained or frowned. There is where fear came into Porsha. He was emotionless in his kills, so to kill was almost soothing to him, a worry Porsha couldn’t take a chance on.

  “I guess I will be going,” Porsha finally spoke as Shun finished up his second blunt. Shun pulled on his holster and strategically placed his weapons on each side. He was very neat, which Porsha equated to his time in the service. She had to admit that too turned her on. Even his blatant disregard for her feelings was respected to an extent because he was real about the situation and didn’t want to sell her a dream, though she would have fallen for it. She wanted him to say those sweet nothings she longed to hear. She was tired of being used and abused, and the hurt and pain of it all she wore on her sleeve.

  “So will I see you later?” Shun asked, grabbing for his keys and handing Porsha her purse.

  “Not sure,” she replied, playing her card.

  “Okay,” Shun said and grabbed her by the arm to assist her in her exit from his home. Porsha snatched her arm back, a bit frustrated at how quickly he dismissed her play. The truth was, Shun could care less on the surface. He knew the game, and before she even responded, he knew she was going to say some dumb shit like her exact response. It only proved his point. Drama was something he had to stay clear of. He had a meeting with a buyer that could prove to be long lasting and very lucrative.

  If he got the deal with Frankie, he would have to leave the country to do the trade. He welcomed it, in need of a vacation. The only thing about this new venture was that he needed backup, and prior to that very moment, he worked solo. With Phil on and off, he wasn’t sure the man could handle himself in the presence of some real shooters. This was not going to be some drug-dealing drive-by in the hood where it’s hit and miss. This was the mob, and they bullets had names on ’em, and the kill was carried out personally.

  * * *

  There was no time for shucking and jiving. Shun hopped into his BMW and buckled up. He took one glance in his mirror to check out his grooming. Only, in his reflection was Porsha, staring him down from his front porch. Shun had to admit that look on her face scared the shit out of him. Either she was a true down-ass bitch, or she was a real bitch. Part of him wanted to find out the truths to her soul. But he knew he had to make a choice. He’d either die by the sword chasing his dreams of money and power, or he’d die in love, surely to be caught slippin’ while basking in the ambience of her sex. Shun shook off the idea of reconciliation and put his pedal to metal before he jumped from his car and took her into his arms once again.

  Porsha shook her head as she watched Shun clearly think about his immorality. Watching him speed away, she angrily jogged to her Mustang at full speed. She threw her clothes in the trunk of her car and jumped into the driver’s seat. She watched as Shun sped off around the corner in the opposite direction of the county jail, which she figured would be his first move, but the money was calling. So she decided to make her next move as well. The game had just begun. Shun fumbled the ball. Maybe Phil cou
ld pick it up and run game. Turning her engine on, she hit the gas and headed straight to the county jail.

  CHAPTER 3

  Smacked

  “Thanks, man, for joining me on this one, Cy,” Shun said, passing him a beer.

  “Man, you know I got you, bro. Where that nigga, Phil, at?”

  Shun looked over at Cyrus with a displeasing look as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t want it to seem like he and Phil weren’t cool. It was just that he was making moves that he needed to alone, first, before he included Phil. Shun had corporate clients that weren’t always handling disgruntled business dealings and partnerships in court. “Naw, he ain’t comin’. I gotta do this one alone before I pull his loud ass in. I need this to be done eloquently. We are dealing with my boy Frankie and his uncle Tommy.”

  Cyrus perked up when he heard the two names Shun referenced. “I gotchu,” he said.

  “So, what’s the job?” Cyrus asked and leaned in as if overly interested.

  “Just a drop-off and pickup!”

  “And you trust this dude Frankie?”

  “No, I don’t trust anyone. He’s a client, a longstanding client who offered me a more lucrative job that will set me up to lie low for a while.”

  “OK, cool, I gotcha, but we talking drugs and money, bro. I ain’t wit’ explosives and shit.” Cyrus laughed but flexed his jawline quick and fast to indicate he was serious. Cyrus hadn’t changed much. He was still ready to fight or shoot with little explanation but funny as hell. That was the two definitions of crazy. A nigga standing around laughin’ and jokin’, then all of a sudden, mad as hell. Phil used to fuck wit’ ’im about his two personalities. He was definitely two-faced. Phil used to say he was mad at some bitch cuz she didn’t give ’im no pussy when he started trippin’ out of the blue like that. All in all, Cyrus was cool people. He was a quiet hothead, which made for a good partner in crime. His kills were done with style. Fucking with Phil, he would wake up the neighborhood. He liked to talk while he pistol-whipped niggas, like how Granny used to when they were gettin’ a whoopin’.

  “So we good, bro?” Shun said looking up from his beer after a moment of silence.

  “We good!” Cyrus confirmed as the two men toasted to money and freedom.

  * * *

  Shun pulled up to Junior’s home, blowing his horn impatiently. Junior bounced out of the house in a fucking sweatshirt, jeans, and Tims with his armory exposed.

  “You ready, nigga?” Shun yelled out to Junior.

  “Nice piece,” Cyrus said through clenched teeth as he noticed Junior was freelancing with his weapon in plain sight.

  Shun looked at it and frowned his lips, then shook his head. “Yeah, it’s cute, but do that muthafucka shoot?”

  Junior’s no-job-havin’ ass had the nerve to have a gold-and-black-plated nine milly with his name engraved on it. Right then and there, Shun should’ve seen the red flags. The man was carrying a weapon that should’ve been in a damn display case, not on the streets collecting bodies.

  Shun hit his hands on the steering wheel as Cyrus lay in the backseat in his button down and Stacy Adams. He was hot as hell trying to put together his weapon of choice. Cyrus grunted with a loud cuss after nearly getting the black gun polish on the lap of his pants.

  “What the fuck you doin’?” Shun interrupted, nervous that Cyrus had gotten his white interior dirty.

  “Preparing. Just pissed that we doing this shit without Phil. How long have you known this nigga Junior?”

  “Jail,” Shun replied slightly under his breath. He was embarrassed that he had chosen Junior to participate. Only he didn’t have anyone else, and Junior had his back in prison more than once. So he couldn’t just leave Junior out of the loop. He just hoped he hadn’t made a mistake.

  “Jail. Why was he in there, Shun? Man, you slippin’! You sure that pussy didn’t poison yo’ ass? We can’t get caught slippin’, nigga! This shit is real. Real money and real muthafuckin’ men. These men, Shun, they play with guns for fun. I’m a shooter all day, but this Junior guy? We don’t know what the deal is with him. You truly don’t know this fool at all. Cuz, see, in jail, we solicit those we feel may aid us in making it out alive. It’s the survival of the fittest. You were selected. Consider yourself lucky. However, let me tell you, this man right here probably listened to everything you said over the course of your stay in Wasco County Prison. He dreamed of your success, your power, and his intentions of getting close to you to delve into your business worked. Now we just some sitting ducks. Cuz, this nigga right here, walkin’ up to yo’ shit,” Cyrus said shaking his head, “is either gon’ try to kill you, or he gon’ wait till you love ’im like a brother, and then he gon’ set yo’ ass up.”

  Shun looked around the car pondering Cyrus’s synopsis of the entire situation. Part of him was thinking the same thing. Junior could have been fronting, helping him to later help himself. He couldn’t think about all that right now, though. There was money to be made.

  “We will definitely have to talk about this,” Cyrus said to Shun as he caught sight of Junior jogging back to the car.

  * * *

  Phil twiddled his thumbs as he sat in his jail cell. He was irritated as shit having to sit in jail while waiting for Shun to get there. That nigga move slower than molasses, Phil thought to himself. Ain’t no way he was going to be sitting in some jail waiting on a decision from a judge, who more than likely wanted to hang his ass too.

  Phil wasn’t going to lie. He couldn’t wait to lay into Shun about his latest trials. He felt some type of way about the entire deal. What the fuck I look like giving my drugs and money up to the police and turning myself in? Phil replayed the conversation he had with Shun over and over in his mind. Shit wasn’t adding up. He understood that he was the hothead, but blood was thicker than water. At least it was in his neck of the woods.

  * * *

  Junior walked up to the car fumbling about his pants.

  “This man can’t even keep his pants up without holding them. They don’t make belts anymore, my nigga?” Cyrus said to himself but made sure both Shun and Junior heard his remarks. He wasn’t gon’ even play wit’ the nigga. One false move, one move even, Cyrus already had pop ’im in his mind, with or without the go-ahead from Shun.

  “What’s up, nigga? You ready?” Cyrus sat up to greet Junior, whistling with his teeth and looking as if he had just got a strong whiff of some bad pussy. Cyrus placed his semiautomatic on his lap. He was getting aggravated at the time it took Junior to respond.

  “You ready, nigga?” Junior responded with his forehead slightly creased. Cyrus gripped the base of his gun and bit his lip hard. Flaring his nose, he simply turned his gaze to locate Shun’s attention in his rearview mirror. Cyrus was definitely looking for the go-ahead to kill Junior right in front of his mom’s tilt.

  “Man, y’all cut that shit out. We got shit to take care of,” Shun said briskly. He could already hear the drama unfolding between the two of them. “Let’s just roll. My mind is on this money, man.” Shun sped down the road and took the back streets to the alley and warehouse where he was scheduled to meet with Frankie.

  It took Shun a little over twenty minutes to reach Frankie’s little hideout, and he couldn’t wait to get Junior and Cyrus out of the backseat of his car. They were both unstable. He was breaking code by asking Cyrus and Junior in, but he needed the manpower. Shun worried they might conspire to take him out as well. He pulled into his usual parking space, then jumped out, leaving the two men behind as they took their time getting out of the car. Shun walked like a man with a plan. He wore a straight face as he entered the building, buttoning his blazer.

  “Frankieeeee, what’s up, bro? We retro? What time the plane leave? I got my two goons with me,” Shun ranted, looking around. He realized he didn’t hear any footsteps follow his nor did he hear a respectable hello. Cyrus was standing close behind, quiet and observing his surroundings. “All we need is our itinerary,” Shun continued. “W
hat’s the plan?” He stood with his hands folded in front of him awaiting his instructions.

  Junior was fidgeting around with his gun. One of Frankie’s boys noticed right away. The observant one leaned in close to Frankie to give him the news of a possible undercover mission. Frankie nodded and directed his attention back to Shun and lowered his eyes.

  “You ready or what?” Cyrus jumped in. He was eyeing all three of the men. He was gripping his Magnum so tight, his knuckles were beginning to turn white.

  “Excuse me?” Frankie asked. “Are you talking to me? Boys, did this young man just speak out of turn to me? Shun?” Frankie stood, blinking at Cyrus, wondering if his courage was liquor filled. “Well, are you? Are you speaking to me?” Frankie looked puzzled as he drew his gun on Cyrus.

  Cyrus stood his ground looking ready to put a bullet in Frankie’s scalp. Frankie stared him down for a few seconds before succumbing to his own laughter. “I see you wit’ the shit. Just know I am too.” Frankie winked.

  Shun put his hand up to warrant a stop to the madness. “Look, bro, we here to do business. I’m about my money, not who dick is bigga. Cyrus, fall back. Frankie, let me know what the deal is.”

  Junior just stood there with his hands visibly shaking.

  “Shun, what’s up wit’ ya boy?” Frankie pointed out. “I think we need to talk.” Frankie gestured that Shun follow him to a secluded area of the building.

  “Stay right here,” Shun instructed Cyrus and Junior.

  Frankie started in almost immediately. “I don’t trust your boy. He’s way too fidgety. We have to get through customs. You think he’s going to be able to get the drugs and money through without giving us up? Seriously, this shit is not a game. My ass is on the line just as much as yours is. You think I don’t have someone to answer to? Don’t we all?” Frankie looked concerned as he swayed back and forth, watching Shun’s reaction to his theatrics.

  Shun looked confused and tired of the hesitation. He was beginning to think that Frankie was playing with his mind and money. He was ready for the bread to roll in. Shun had plans. Once he got done with this round, he would lie low for a while. This run to the Philippines would set him straight for at least a year. He wasn’t greedy. He just wanted enough loot to live comfortably. The thought of going back to school crossed his mind frequently. Continuing his degree in engineering from his time of service in the marines seemed feasible.