A Favor for a Favor Page 10

  “Well, he did. And he wasn’t shit. Just like Chauncey. Niggas ain’t shit. It’s s’posed to be me and you. We fuck these niggas and get money. What about that?”

  Queenie rolled her eyes again and sucked her teeth.

  Princess got an attitude. “Don’t roll yo’ eyes at me, bitch! What about us? It’s me and you, right?”

  “C’mon, sis. You already know that. But Pop Somethin’ is a good nigga. And he not like them otha niggas. We made plans to get out this shit and make a better life in Jamaica. We can’t rob and fuck niggas forever. We already burnt up H-Town. We gotta think about the future. We gotta think past the next check.”

  Princess stared at her sister like she was from another planet. “Bitch, I don’t even know you right now. How you sound? We just ran up a check at Lux. Twenty-five thou in three nights. Dallas is alive. All this million-dollar, hotel shit ain’t real. That’s Pop dream. We gotta live real life. Plus, he might not be around much longer. Drama and Snot lookin’ for y’all.”

  Queenie sat up. “What they say?”

  “You know they not finna let him get away wit’ killin’ Yea. Pop Squad don’t play that shit. That’s why you need to get away from this nigga. He got enemies all over Texas.”

  “What about Deso? He lookin’ for us, too?”

  “Nah. Deso worship Pop Somethin’. He told Drama and Snot to leave y’all alone. They damn near fought over that shit, but we family, so they figured it out. Deso know how they feel, but he not gettin’ involved.”

  “What about you? You gon’ tell them where we live?”

  Princess’s demeanor softened as she walked over and sat on the bed. When the sisters were face-to-face, Princess reached out and ran her hand through Queenie’s dreads. “You know where my loyalty at. It’s with you. I’m not gon’ let Pop Somethin’ or Pop Squad come between us. I love you, sis, and I’m not gon’ do nothin’ to hurt you. I know you feelin’ Pop Somethin’, and because yo’ feelin’s in it, I ain’t tellin’ Pop Squad shit.”

  Queenie smiled lovingly at her sister, leaning in for a kiss. After a peck on the lips, Princess stood to her feet. “Now, get up, bitch. I need some beans. And later we finna find Skittlez’s good pussy-ass. I wanna fuck her again.”

  ***

  Pop Somethin’ grabbed a stack of bills from the table and stuffed it into the duffel bag. The money stack held five thousand dollars. He put ten stacks in the bag before zipping it closed. After putting the bag on the floor, he looked up at the crisscrossing machetes that hung on the wall. He was sitting on the couch in C-Note’s playa pad. This was where he took females to fuck or had meetings with people he didn’t want to bring to his house. The crib was plush and had all the latest tech gadgets. The crisscrossing machetes always caught Pop’s eye. His father walked around with a machete, and seeing the blade reminded him of home.

  “Where you get them from?” Pop asked.

  C-Note looked up from counting money to see what Pop was talking about. “Somebody was about to throw ‘em away. I took ‘em and hung ‘em up. Shit remind me of some African tribal shit. Zulu warriors, nigga,” he laughed.

  “So, you slept here again? Carla still at cho house?” Pop asked, noticing C-Note was wearing a t-shirt and jogging pants.

  “I love my sister, bruh, but I can’t wait ‘til she get the fuck outta, my house. I’m to the point where I’m thinkin’ ‘bout movin’ in here. I can’t do all those kids-n-shit. I love my nephews, but they too much.”

  “Why you just don’t get her a house? You can stand it.”

  “‘Cause I always gave her everything. She don’t know the meaning of working hard and gettin’ her own shit, so I stopped. She gotta be independent and quit dependin’ on me or a nigga.”

  “She yo’ big sister, bruh. And she thirty years old. If she ain’t figured it out now, she prolly won’t.”

  “All I know is I ain’t givin’ her shit. She gon’ save them checks and get her own shit.”

  “Or just stay where she at and take over yo’ shit,” Pop laughed.

  “Fuck you, dawg!” C-Note said, throwing a stack of money at Pop Somethin’.

  “So, what chu wanna do about ABLE Team? We really don’t got enough niggas to start a war. Artie and Lucci yo’ niggas, but they soft.”

  “I know. Them niggas ain’t no shooters, but ABLE Team ain’t really what niggas think they is. If we get Franco and Radar out the way, the rest of them niggas gon’ fold.”

  “That’s what you wanna do?” Pop asked.

  “Not really. This money good, and I don’t wanna start no war. Lux is poppin’. Artie and Lucci runnin’ it up on the highway. A war gon’ fuck shit up.”

  “You watch sports?”

  C-Note frowned. “What kinda question is that? We talkin’ ‘bout war, nigga.”

  “A good offense gon’ beat a good defense all day. You know Franco an’ ‘em gon’ eventually come, and it’s more of them than us.”

  “Yeah, I know. But right now I need you to help me play defense. When the time is right, we gon’ play offense.”

  Pop gave him a long stare. “A’ight, I’m wit’ chu, my nigga. I like some of the security at Lux. Beast Mode and Trench certified. I’ma strap some of them niggas up.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Be my war general.”

  ***

  Pop noticed Queenie’s Nissan Maxima was gone as he pulled the Infinity into the driveway. After grabbing the duffle bag from the backseat, he went in the house. The first thing he noticed was the alarm wasn’t set. He made a mental note to get at Queenie about that.

  After locking the door, he headed for the basement. The lower level had been converted into an entertainment room. A 70-inch TV hung on the wall with all kinds of electronics hooked up to it. Four recliner chairs sat in front of the TV. Behind the entertainment area was a small bar. There were two rooms on the right wall, one of them a workout room, the other a laundry room. That’s where he went. Inside was a washer, dryer, and folding table. What couldn’t be seen was the removable section of the south wall. Pop pushed in a panel and the wall opened, revealing shelves lined with guns, ammo, and body armor. An AR-15, M-16, Mini-14, and automatic 12-gauge made up the heavy artillery. Two Taurus 9mms, two Sig Sauer 357s, two Glock 40s, and a Mac-11 made up the small arms. There were also three lightweight Kevlar vests. Below the guns was a safe. He put in the combo. Inside was one-hundred thousand dollars in neat stacks. After adding the fifty thousand he got from C-Note, he stared at the money. He was well on his way to a mil. If things kept moving the way they were, he would reach his goal by the end of the year.

  A noise from upstairs forced him to forget about his million-dollar plans. Somebody was in his house. After closing the safe, he pulled a .45 from his shoulder holster and crept up the stairs. The noise had come from the living room. On the way through the kitchen, he peeked out the window to see if Queenie had come home. The only vehicle in the driveway was his truck. He moved quietly through the kitchen, pausing at the threshold of the living room. He peeked around the corner and seen a female kneeling on the floor, her ass in the air. When he seen the reddish-blonde dreadlocks, he relaxed.

  “Where yo’ car, Queenie? I thought you was gone.”

  Princess jumped and spun around quickly. “Oh, shit! Don’t be creepin’ up on me like that! Make some noise or somethin’. What you got the gun for?”

  “My bad. I heard some noise and thought somebody was breakin’ in. Then I thought you was Queenie. Y’all look just alike. Where she at?” he asked, holstering the gun.

  “I don’t know. Her and Skittlez out bein’ hos. I dropped my jambalaya on the floor. Shit was good, too,” she said before going back to picking up the food.

  “I’ma let you get back to that,” Pop said, heading for the basement.

  “Wait, wait, wait! Talk to me for a minute.”

  Pop leaned against the wall, looking Princess over from head to toe, judging her intent. He hadn’t talked to her much s
ince she had come to town, but her facial expression showed curiosity and mischief. “What you wanna talk about?”

  Princess walked past, brushing her ass against his arm as she walked into the kitchen. “You and my sister,” she said, throwing away the food and washing her hands.

  “What you wanna know?”

  She took her time responding, wiping her hands and spinning to face him. “You and my sister seem serious.”

  “What she say?”

  “That y’all movin’ to Jamaica. That sound serious.”

  “That’s the plan. You got a problem with that?”

  “Yeah. She my twin. We do everything together. We had our own plans. Now that she met you, she changed ‘em.”

  “Don’t you want what’s best for her? What y’all doin’ wit’ Pop Squad ain’t gon’ last. Y’all already burnt up Houston. Y’all been jackin’ for years and ain’t got shit to show for it. Blowin’ money fast not worth a grave or cell. You see, what we doin’ in Dallas, we got a goal.”

  Princess leaned against the sink and cut her eyes at Pop Somethin’. “But what about her heart?”

  “What about it?”

  “Queenie is submissive and a li’l mushy. She don’t got the stomach to hang wit’ chu. She got dreams of fallin’ in love and gettin’ married. That shit ain’t real, especially wit’ a nigga like you. I heard all the people you shot and killed. Queenie not cut out for that shit.”

  “Yo’ first mistake was thinkin’ you know me. Second was you thinkin’ you know Queenie. Yeah, she submissive because she know her place. She my bitch. That don’t make her weak. She understand boundaries and roles. For any relationship to work, you gotta have understandin’. We got that. And you need to ask yo’ sister ‘bout her stomach. You’d be surprised how strong she is.”

  “Oh, okay,” she nodded, understanding why Queenie was so taken with Pop. Not only was he a physical beast, but he was a thinker. “I got you now. Did you promise to marry her and give her all those damn kids she want?”

  “Nah. I’m real. I don’t sell dreams or tell lies. I didn’t tell Queenie I was gon’ marry her or that I love her. That shit ain’t for us. What we got his based on loyalty, not love. She my bitch. I’m her nigga. Ride or die.”

  The kitchen was silent as the two had a stare-down. Pop figured out Princes was the dominant sister with a dominant personality. She led. Queenie followed. Princess was also manipulative. He could see her twisting niggas and bitches around her finger, bending them to her will. At that moment he realized Queenie and Princess were a package deal. If he wanted to keep Queenie in line and focused on the mission, he would have to bring Princess along, too. And that wouldn’t be easy.

  “Where yo’ loyalty at?” he asked.

  “Wit’ my sister.”

  “What about Pop Squad?”

  “Wit’ them, too. To a certain degree.”

  “What degree is that? Either you loyal or you not.”

  “It ain’t that easy. Them my niggas. I fucks wit’ them, but I’m not gon’ do nothin’ to hurt me or Queenie. If it comes down to us or them, it’s gon’ be them.”

  “Loyalty is a sacrifice. Openin’ yo’self up to hurt, harm, and danger for the benefit of whoever you loyal to. You ain’t loyal to Pop Squad at all. Them niggas a meal, just like the tricks you fuck wit’, otherwise you woulda told them where I live by now. I see you, Princess. Namaste.”

  She frowned. “What the fuck you just say?”

  “Namaste. The Indians say that. It means ‘I bow to the inner you’, but I loosely translate it in this instance to mean I see you for who you really are.”

  She waved off his words. “Nigga, you just met me. You don’t know me. Everything you say sound slick, but I ain’t Queenie.”

  “I know, ‘cause Queenie woulda already been on her knees suckin’ my dick.”

  “Don’t talk about my sister like that!” she flared up.

  He challenged her. “Why? Cause I’m tellin’ the truth?”

  “Nah, because you takin’ advantage of her.”

  “Like you. You took advantage of her all y’all life. Told her what to do and who to be. What if you wrong about me and I’m the one lettin’ her be who she really is?”

  Princess looked like she wanted to hurt Pop. “Fuck you, nigga. You don’t know me.”

  “You already told me that.”

  Princess couldn’t hide her ire. Her eyes were angry slits, her nostrils flared, and her top lip quivered. She wanted to attack him. Hurt him. Break him down to size like she did most people who challenged her. But she knew this was a fight she couldn’t win, so she walked away.

  Pop smiled when she walked by him. He had gotten under her skin, exactly what he wanted to do. Now she knew he wasn’t the average nigga. He wasn’t just a physical force, but a mental one, as well.

  For the next part of his plan, he needed Queenie’s approval. He pulled out his phone and sent her a text. She called him back, Facetiming.

  “Hey, baby. Everything okay?”

  “Me and Princess need to get an understandin’.”

  Confusion spread across Queenie’s face. “What happened?”

  “I’ma give you the details later. You trust me?”

  “You know I do, Pop. You my nigga.”

  “So, no matter what happens between me and her, you still gon’ be my bitch?”

  The confused look on Queenie’s face turned to worry. “Don’t hurt my sister. Please.”

  “You out wit’ Skittlez, right?”

  “Yeah, but I can come –”

  “Nah, don’t come home. Find somethin’ to do. I see her for who she is. She yo’ protector. I know I can’t have you without her. I’m finna go get her.”

  The worry vanished from Queenie’s face as a smile spread across her lips. “Get her, baby.”

  ***

  Pop found Princess in his bedroom, sitting on the bed, her face in her phone. He stopped in the doorway and watched her.

  When she felt his presence, she looked up, mugging him. “I don’t feel like talkin’ no more shit. Stay outta my way and I’ma stay outta yours.”

  Pop stepped into the room and dropped his gun holsters on the floor. “I got a proposition for you.”

  She took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “What, nigga? What?”

  Even though she was hostile, Pop remained calm. “Don’t go back to Houston. Fuck Pop Squad. Them niggas gon’ get you killed. I want you on my team. Be my bitch.”

  She laughed loudly, looking him from head to toe. “What the fuck kinda pills you takin’? Gimme some, ‘cause these percs ain’t got shit on what you be on.”

  “I don’t take pills. You shouldn’t either, and we gon’ work on that. You see the kinda money you can make at Lux. Twenty-five racks in one weekend. You ain’t neva did that in Houston. That happened because of me. I put Queenie in the right place, and you benefited from it. You already loyal to me because you loyal to Queenie. You my bitch and don’t even know it. Stay and make it official.”

  Princess shook her head as she got up from the bed. “You way too much for me. I’m bookin’ into a hotel. I’ma call a Uber and wait outside.”

  When she tried to walk past, Pop manhandled her, pushing her against the wall and throwing her phone across the room. Princess was surprised and intimidated by his strength, speed, and size. She was five-foot-four and he was six-foot-six. He towered over her like a giant, holding her against the wall by her arms.

  “Let me go, Pop! Get off me!” she growled, struggling to free her arms.

  His voice was forceful and calm at the same time. “Stop. Look at me.”

  Princess looked him in his eyes, holding his stare.

  “I’m offerin’ you life. A way out the bullshit. Security. Loyalty. Opportunity. Somethin’ nobody never gave you. I told you I see you. I wasn’t bullshittin’. You big sis. You take care of Queenie. But who take care of you? I can do that. You see me. You know I’m real. You just scared ‘cause you ain’t ne
va had this. You used to runnin’ shit, and this seem too good. I’m tellin’ you that yo’ place is wit’ me. I got you.”

  Princess stood before him like a child, staring up at him like he was the answer to all of her prayers. When he released her arms, she stood there, waiting for him to make the next move. He lowered his head to kiss her and Princess came to life, attacking his lips and tongue with aggressive kisses.

  Pop reached behind her, fumbling with the zipper on the back of her jumper. When he couldn’t unzip it, he grabbed two handfuls of the fabric and pulled. Princess moaned as the material was ripped from her back and shoulders. Then she went for his shirt, ripping strips of cotton, dropping them on the floor. She went for his pants next, unbuckling them and dropping them to his ankles. Then his boxers

  Pop stepped out of his clothes and ripped off more of her jumpsuit. She wore no panties or bra underneath. When her lady parts were free, he lifted her like a ragdoll, his arms beneath her legs. Her arms folded behind his neck as she hung on. He held her against the wall and penetrated her deep until their pelvises were touching.

  “Oh, shit!” she cursed, biting him on his bearded cheek and grabbing hold of his dreads.

  He started with slow, long strokes, holding her in place as he dug her guts out. Princess was on cloud nine as she cursed, bit, scratched, and pulled his dreads. The aggressive fuck session made Pop speed up. He rammed his dick in and out of her with fast, hard strokes.

  “Oh, gawd! Oh, gawd! Oh, gawd!” Princess cried, lost in a zone between pain and ultimate pleasure. When she came, it felt like everything inside her dissolved and oozed out of her pussy. And it wasn’t just one orgasm. They came in waves.

  Pop Felt like he was on Viagra. His dick was super hard, and his stamina was amazing. He held her in the air, pounding her pussy for twenty minutes. Her juices dripped down his legs and onto the floor, pooling at his feet. When he felt his leg muscles tightening, he took her over to the bed and fell on top, continuing to pound out. When he finally busted his nut, he growled like a bear, filling her with his seed. They huffed and puffed like bulls, staring into each other’s eyes, challenging one another silently. Pop knew he needed a moment. The tingling of his dick wouldn’t allow him to move, so Princess took over, flipping him on his back and climbing on top.