Sneak Peek: "Betrayal in the City"

 

“‘Bout time you showed up. You got my money?”

 

I frowned when I heard my boss Khristian Taylor greet me like I was some random non-factor on the corner.

 

“Nigga, don’t talk to me like that. You know what the business is around here. Questioning me about some damn money as soon as I get in,” I said, rolling my eyes.

 

Khristian laughed. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to. You’re mouth’s been getting a little too reckless lately.”

 

“Whatever. You haven’t complained one bit about this mouth after all these years, so I ain’t trying to hear that bullshit now.”

 

“You’re right. I can’t complain too much about it. You have a natural talent with those jaws of yours.”

 

I smirked. Khristian used to be my pimp back in the day. I met him my junior year in high school when I was out and about doing a little bit of everything. I was out there acting older than my actual age, sneaking into 21 and up parties, pretending to be 18. I had convinced Tasheena and the twins to come out with me one night; Danielle couldn’t make it ‘cause she was on lock down for sneaking out the previous week.

 

We slid up in a college party at Tennessee State University. We had never been to one before, but I had heard that they were always live. I had ran across one of the flyers in the middle of the street after I got off the school bus a few days before. Sheena, Porsha, Paris, and I fit right into the crowd with all of the others. We had on our shortest and tightest skirts and dresses that we hid under our track suits on the way there.

 

The party was muggy. Almost everyone had a red plastic cup full of liquor or a blunt full of weed in their hand. The music was loud and rattled the paintings on the wall, and there were people everywhere. It was crowded and stuffy, but everyone was having fun.

 

It wasn’t the weed or the alcohol that had me and my girls intrigued. It was the niggas. College men were completely different from the high school boys we ran with on a daily. These niggas had style for days. They looked like street niggas from the block who turned up at night and studied during the day. I had never been a shy bitch, so I scanned the room to figure out which one I planned on fucking that night. I needed to pay for my prom dress, and I refused to work in a fast food chain like many of my peers. I had adopted that mentality from my egg donor Sheryl. I used these niggas to get what I wanted out of them. That’s all they were good for anyway—a good nut and some cash. One thing I couldn’t stand was a broke-ass nigga with some weak-ass dick. They couldn’t be lacking in both areas. They had to pick a struggle.

 

That’s how I met Khristian. I knew he was someone of importance because of how he was treated when he came through the door. People scattered in the crowded room to give him space to walk through. Niggas were coming through with handshakes and pats on the back while the hoes grabbed at his clothes for attention. He was fine. He was tall and built with a low haircut that was lined up nicely, and the crew he rolled with was just as fine.

 

I remember looking at my girls and giving them a mischievous look.

 

“What are you about to do, Giz?” Paris questioned.

 

“You know what she about to do. When she has her eyes set on something, she’s going to get it. We all know this,” Tasheena explained as she danced to the music that was playing.

 

I high-fived her in agreeance. I stop at nothing to get what the fuck I want, and at that moment, I wanted Khristian. After watching him smoke a couple blunts with his homies and turn down a couple broads, I decided to make my move.

 

“I’ll be back, ya’ll,” I said before I turned to leave, easing my way over to Khristian.

 

He was still leaning on the wall, bobbing his head to the beat of the music and smoking. Instead of asking for his blunt, I boldly removed it from his lips and placed it to mine. He smirked and watched me inhale and exhale before speaking.

 

“I see you have a huge pair of nuts on you,” he said.

 

“I see you have a huge pair of nuts on you too,” I replied, looking down at his pants.

 

He laughed. “What’s your name?”

 

I had grabbed his interest just like I intended. “Giz,” I said, inhaling the smoke again.

 

“Never seen you around here before, Giz, and I see everybody.”

 

“I’m not just anybody.”

 

“I can tell. If you were, I would have smacked you by now for disrespecting me by smoking my shit unauthorized.”

 

I shrugged. “I’m not worried.”

 

“You should be. I’m not just anybody either.”

 

“Let me be the judge of that.”

 

I took in his appearance. He wore high-dollar fashion, dressed in a slim fit suit. It was kind of unusual to wear to a party, but he looked just like the boss he was. I could tell that his watch had real diamonds in them; it matched the diamond studs he wore in both ears. He reeked of money and Gucci; even his cologne smelled rich. I saw nothing but dollar signs every time I gazed at him.

 

“What’s your purpose, Giz?” he asked, throwing me off a little.

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

He looked me directly in my eyes before speaking.

 

“Everybody has a motive. You didn’t just come over here for no reason. You can’t be a Fed ‘cause you lightening up and blowing my shit. You aren’t one of these thirst bucket hoes either because you would have been all over me by now, so what’s up? You trying to set me up to get jumped when I leave here? You trying to talk to me and go through my pockets on the low?”

 

It was my turn to laugh.

 

“Not at all. I’m just trying to smoke good, fuck good, and get this money. I’m trying to get where you are. You look like money, and I want to be a part of whatever you’re doing to get it.”

 

“Wow, direct…I like that. I wasn’t expecting you to kick it to me so real.”

 

“I told you I wasn’t just anybody. Listen when I talk.”

 

“If you trying to get down on this money train forreal, then I can assist with that.”

 

“I’m game.”

 

“How old are you?”

 

“How old do I look?”

 

“See, I ain’t ask you all that.”

 

“18,” I lied.

 

“You lying to me already? That’s no good, boo. Holla at me when you’re legal. I’m 22. I’m not catching no case for a minor. You still cute though.”

 

“How did you know?”

 

“I see the girls you run with. I’ve seen them around before, and I know all of them are in high school. Birds of a feather flock together. That means you’re in high school too.”

 

“Good job. You pay attention.”

 

“I have to in this business.”

 

“You fucking with me or not?” I asked, trying to get to the point.

 

“What did I tell you? I’m not going to jail for you. No.”

 

“Age ain’t nothing but a number.”

 

“Miss me with that Aaliyah shit. R. Kelly didn’t give a fuck…I do.”

 

“Who has to know about it?”

 

“I know how ya’ll females talk.”

 

“I won’t say anything.”

 

“Can’t sell a dream to a nigga who never sleeps. I’m not buying it.”

 

He was harder to work than I thought.

 

“How can I prove it?”

 

“You can start by giving me my blunt back.”

 

I inhaled it one last time before giving it back.

 

“Did that. Now what?” I pressed.

 

“You’re really serious about this?”

 

“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t have anything to lose. I have nothing to go home to. Like I said, I’m trying to make this money, and you look like you are in a position to help me.”

 

He leaned over to one of his homies and whispered something in his ear.

 

“You can start by telling your little friends that you about to dip..."

 

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