Dayvon’s Story
A Thug’s Life
by
Thomas Long
Copyright© 2004
Thomas Long
Published by Streetwise Publications
A subsidiary of
Infinite Wisdom Publishing, LLC
York, PA 17404
Smashwords edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission from the publisher or author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. It is not meant to depict, portray, or represent any particular real persons. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be misconstrued as being real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Cover designed by IW Graphic Designs
Other e-books available from the author:
Guilty Pleasures, Volume 1: Getting’ It In
(available now)
Just Like Daddy
(available now)
Guilty Pleasures, Volume 2: Strung out
(coming 10/2011)
Guilty Pleasures, Volume 3: Daydreamin’
(coming 11/2011)
The Smooth Assassin
(coming 12/2011)
Guilty Pleasures, Volume 4: Our Little Secret
(coming 12/2011)
Urban Conglomerate
(coming Summer 2012)
Still Thuggin’ (sequel to Dayvon’s Story: A Thug’s Life)
(coming summer 2012)\
You can also follow this author on Facebook or Twitter
1
One of Dem Nights
“That’s right, girl, just back that ass up!” I said to Jaré as we got ready to engage in another one of our raunchy episodes in the bedroom.
She positioned herself with her backside facing toward me as I placed all ten inches of my manhood inside her. She sighed in ecstasy in response to the pain that would soon bring her the most exhilarating pleasure. I thrust in and out of her, enjoying every stroke as my dick became engulfed in the moisture of her oval office. She grabbed for the headboard with both hands to keep her balance as the pace of my thrusts increased. She started grinding her hips in sync with mine as we listened to the sounds of Jahiem’s Ghetto Love CD blasting out of the stereo. I knew she loved how a playa was doin’ the damn thing.
“Don’t stop, Papi.Keep giving me that good dick!” That’s what Jaré screamed as I continued to pound her insides like a brotha getting his first piece of ass after a five year bid in the pen. I couldn’t even front—this girl had some seriously good punany.
After about a half hour of hittin’ it doggy style, I turned her over and laid her on her back so that I could look into her enticing, hazel eyes and caramel complexion as I waxed that ass missionary style. She submissively wrapped her long, shapely legs around my waist as I entered her, and we began to get down to the business at hand. She placed both of her hands behind my neck and cradled my head as she pulled me toward her, asking me to suck on her invitingly erect nipples. I willingly obliged her and her screams of passion became louder and louder in my ear.
“You know this pussy belongs to you, Papi. You can have it anytime you want it,” she declared.
Hearing those words only excited me more and increased my desire to please her in every way that night. She started saying something in Spanish that sounded so sexy. I didn’t know what she was saying, but it sure sounded like music to my ears. I continued to enjoy the good feeling of my voyage inside her love canal, until she playfully whispered into my ear that she wanted to get on top and ride me. As she mounted my love muscle, which was still up to the task after about an hour of intense lovemaking, she began riding me like she was a veteran cowgirl on her prized stallion. There was no doubt in my mind that Jaré was the one-the one for the night, at least. She ran her fingers seductively through her hair as she did a slow grind on top of me. The sultry sounds of Sade played in the background. She leaned down toward me and began to nibble on my ear saying all kinds of nasty shit to turn me on.
“I want you to come inside of me, Papi!” she whispered. Her pelvic gyrations became more intense. I knew that she was about to cum, and I was ready to do the same. I grabbed a hold tightly to her waist and she grabbed a hold of the sheets as we both braced ourselves for what was coming next.
“I’m cummin’, Dayvon! I’m cummin’! Ohhhh shit!” she yelled as she reached her climax.
“I’m cummin’ too, baby. Damn, this pussy is good!” I said as I exploded like a volcano inside of her. She laid on my chest, still moving her hips on top of my deflating manhood. I pulled her toward me and kissed her gently on her forehead to let her know that she handled her business tonight. Wrapped up in the wrinkled sheets was how we fell asleep.
Jaré was the type of sistah with a body that just don’t quit—the type that was made to be in Black Tail magazine. She stood about 5' 7" and 145 lbs., with long, dark brown, wavy hair that hung down to the middle of her back. Her hair texture could be attributed to her Black/Puerto Rican mixed heritage. She had a slim waist, six pack of abs, and an ass that poked out so much that a playa could set a glass of Cristal on it like it was a dinner table. Her breasts weren’t necessarily large, but they were big enough for me to get more than a mouthful. Plus, she had a pair of deep, dark chocolate nipples that always managed to stay at attention. I’d had no choice but to make her the one that I chose that night over three years earlier when me and my boy, Ty, were at the Cathouse Gentleman’s Lounge doing our usual Friday night “community service.”
It was our ritual on Fridays to spend some of our hard-earned money looking at some fine ass ghetto sistahs in thongs. We were young, Black, getting money, and just living life to the fullest extent. We figured that we might as well have a little fun since we had the streets locked down and there appeared to be no end to our cash flow.
On this particular night, the DJ was blasting “How Do U Want It”, one of my favorite Tupac joints, and the ladies were looking sexy as hell in their exotic outfits. We sat in our usual section at the bar, and I was sipping on a Rum Runner with just the right mix of Bacardi 151 to take the edge off of the blunt that Ty and I had just smoked in the parking lot. I was definitely in my own zone at that point. That was when I spotted Jaré at the bar all alone, waiting for a young playa like myself to ask to buy her a drink. She had on a fire engine-red thong and a form-fitting baby T-shirt that read Ass 2 Go on the front. It barely covered her breasts. I had already seen her dance earlier in the night, so I knew that she was working with something from head to toe. My man, Ray, who was a bouncer at the club, put me down and let me know that she was new to the spot and had just come to town from Brooklyn, up in New York City. That was just what I was looking for—some fresh meat—because I was a hungry predator on the prowl.
When I made my move to approach her, I had already caught a glimpse of her checking me out. I guess she was impressed with the bling from all the ice that was dangling from my wrist and pinky finger. Or maybe she’d gotten a whiff of my 212 cologne when I walked by her coming into the club. Either way, after we made our introductions, I obliged her and agreed to buy her a drink. Next, I followed her to the VIP lounge for a lap dance. The VIP room was where only the cats with a little scrilla could go with a young lady and get a little something extra, if she was down for it.
As she guided me to the VIP lounge, I got a glimpse of that ass, and needless to say, I was mesmerized by how firm and round it was. Once we got in the room, she sat me on the plush couch and gave me a lap dance that I will never forget. I’d been kickin’ it with her ever since. Still, even though I saw her on a regular basis, she knew that she wasn’t my girl and I wasn’t her man. We had an open relationship and enjoyed hanging out whenever we both had free time. Our arrangement was just perfect for me.
On the real tip, though, Jaré was a good girl who just had a few bad breaks in life. She grew up in Marcy projects in Brooklyn with her Moms and two little sisters. She never knew her Pops, because he died when she was two years old. Her moms told her that he got killed over a craps game. Times were hard for her and her family growing up and it was a struggle just to survive. Just like so many other young Black females from the hood, she got involved with a young hustler named Malik and got pregnant when she was sixteen years old. Her Moms wasn’t having it with another mouth to feed on her low wage job, so Jaré wound up moving in with Malik after their son, Malik II, was born. She was actually living ghetto fabulous, enjoying the fruits of being a hustler’s wifey until Malik got knocked on a drug charge and had to do a ten-year bid.
Forced to survive on her own, she got turned on to the stripping game by her girlfriend, Sasha. Sasha was a sure ‘nuff hoodrat, down to run game on any young hustler for his loot. She had light brown skin with a short, Halle Berry type of hairstyle that complemented her dark brown eyes and high cheekbones. She stood about 5' 6” tall and had a set of legs that would make Tina Turner stop and stare in awe. It was nothing for her to make between five hundred and a thousand dollars a night at the Funkbox just for letting a man get his feel on and fantasize about fuckin’ her.
Jaré saw the kind of loot that Sasha was making and she was all too with it to make some ends too she could take care of her and little Malik while her man was locked down. She only had to work three nights a week to make enough money to take care of all her material needs and wants. You could say that she had it made. She danced at the Funkbox for about two years before Sasha heard about a club called The Cathouse in Baltimore where they could make twice as much loot and not have to work as hard for tips. After pondering on it for a minute, they decided to move to Baltimore and had been here ever since.
Jaré wasn’t really worried about her relationship with big Malik when she decided to relocate, because her visits to the prison had dwindled from once a week to once in a while. Over time, she had basically fallen out of love with big Malik and made it clear to him that it was over between them. She only continued to visit so her son could see his father. She wanted him to have a chance to get to know him, something that she never got a chance to do with her own father. She promised that she would continue to bring his son to see him after she moved.
When she moved to Baltimore, Jaré had enrolled in college and was one year away from getting her bachelor’s degree in accounting at Morgan State University. That was one of the things I liked about her; she didn’t fit the stereotypical image of a stripper who planned to keep stripping until she was a senior citizen. She was realistic and used the money that she made from dancing to pay for school and to put her in a position to get a good paying legit job in the future.
Aside from her beauty, the girl also had brains and a down to earth personality. She wasn’t like most of the women that I meant who were that fine, but had their heads all up in the clouds. You know the ones who turn their noses up to a brotha when he just speaks to them. My shawty had seen struggle in her life and she was from the hood, so that stuck up mentality never grew on her. If I were into relationships, she would definitely be a front runner to be the one who I settled down with for the long haul. However, given my hectic lifestyle out in these streets, I knew that falling in love was not in the plans for me. That just wasn’t happening. I was having too much fun juggling the women in my life.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
“Hello.”
“We have a collect call from Tyrone Adams at Roxbury Correctional Institute. Will you accept the charges?” said the operator’s recorded voice on the other end of the line.
“Yeah.”
Why the fuck did he have to call so early? Shit! I thought.
It was my man Ty calling to make sure that I was coming up for my visit today.
“What’s up, fool? Get your ass out that bed and up here to see me now. I know you’re probably buried up under a piece of pussy up in there!” Ty said, laughing his ass off.
“Damn, nigga. It’s eight o’clock in the damn morning on a Saturday. Shouldn’t you be up in your cell jerking off right now?” I shot back, knowing I was gonna piss him off.
“Are you coming up here or what?” Ty asked, ignoring my comment.
“Yeah, I’ll be there around eleven-thirty. Hold your horses, fool,” I answered.
“I was just checking, seeing how you forgot about a brother the last time, ya know. If I ain’t know no better, I would think you was slippin’ out there,” Ty said in a half-joking manner. He was talking about two weeks ago when I had missed coming up to see him because I had stayed overnight in Delaware with Jaré after we had spent the day gambling at Delaware Park.
“Whatever, man. I’ma see your ass in a few,” I said. I was ready to hang up the phone and get back to looking at the fine piece of ass lying next to me.
“A’ight. Peace,” Ty said.
“I’m out,” I replied and hung up the phone.
By that time, Jaré had woken up and looked over at me with her sexy ass self. I couldn’t help but blush, because this girl had it going on in all ways. She would make a good wifey for some man one day.
“So you going out to Hagerstown to see your boy?” she asked me in a devilish tone.
“Yeah, I gotta get up in a few to take a shower and get dressed,” I replied.
“Cool, but before you get up to take care of that business, I got some unfinished business for you to take care of down here,” she said gesturing beneath the covers.
“Want for nothing, Mami, ’cause I got you,” I replied and proceeded to throw the covers to the side. It was breakfast time, and I guess a large helping of some tasty chocha was what I needed to start my day. With that being said, I made my way down between her thighs and began to massage her eagerly waiting clit with my tongue until she came all over my face.
“Thank you, Papi. I needed that for real. I need to talk to you about something when you get back in town,” she said with her eyes closed as she gasped for air. I nodded to acknowledge what she had said to me, but I had no clue what she wanted to talk to me about. I would later learn that I was about to make a decision that would change my life forever.
2
If He Only Knew
Damn, this nigga is fine.
That’s what I was thinking as I watched Dayvon get dressed. Dayvon kept his hair cut close, near bald, and his sexy, thin beard made him the image of perfection in my eyes. Just watching his chiseled, 6' 2" deep, dark chocolate frame naked as he made his way to the bathroom to take a shower made me want to jump his bones. Physically, he was built like Ray Lewis from the Ravens and he had a tight pair of buns that I just loved grabbing whenever he was putting his thing down inside of me. He had a tattoo of a panther on his left arm and one that spelled out the name of his crew, Dogs For Life, on his right arm. The words Built 4 War were scrawled across his shoulders and the angel wings underneath them moved every time his muscles flexed. I just loved a thug nigga with tats all over his body. It drove me wild. This was my husband to be, no doubt!
I watched him get dressed and noticed the care that this brotha took in making himself look fly from head to toe. His gear had to be matching from the pants and shirt that he chose all the way down to his shoes. That’s why when I saw him slide into his neatly pressed Rocawear denim pants suit with the shirt to match and put on his butter Tims, I knew he meant business when he stepped out into the streets. His confident attitude only added to his sex appeal. He knew that he was the man.
I ain’t gonna front, though, because before I met Dayvon, I had a totally different perception of Baltimore men coming from up North. I thought that all Baltimore men were wack dressers and talked with a country accent that just turned me the hell off. I remember when I used to make those summer trips down here to see my Aunt Fran who lived in East Baltimore. My older cousin, Chanel, used to take me out with her sometimes to show me the city when I was like fourteen or fifteen years old. I was kinda built for my age, so it was only natural that I attracted a lot of attention from the older guys. The problem was that, back then, I just wasn’t feeling any of the guys that Chanel tried to introduce me to. They all seemed to be trying to imitate New York niggas and didn’t have any style of their own. Needless to say, fast forward a few years, that all changed when Mr. Dayvon Freeman walked into my life.
Ever since Malik and I had broken up before I left New York, I hadn’t really been dating too much. I just wasn’t in the mood for it in my life at the time. Plus, work, school, and my little man kept me plenty busy. Guys down at the club would always try to date me outside the club, but I had a rule that I always kept in the front of my mind at work: Never take any of these sorry sleaze balls home with you, ’cause they ain’t no damn good. Get the cash, but I sure ain’t kickin’ them out no ass. That was the golden rule that Sasha and I tried to live by. I say tried because Sasha had developed a thing for money so bad that she would do just about anything if the price was right. And I do mean anything.
She was my girl and all, but keeping it real, she acted like I didn’t know that she was fucking those young hustlers when she would do those private shows outside of the club. I ain’t a genius or nothing, but I knew damn well that she was spreading them cheeks the way they all hovered over her at the club. There ain’t that much lap dancing in the world. Plus, I knew that she was a certified freak ever since that night that she tried to come on to me. It was one of them nights when I got a little too drunk at the club and couldn’t drive home, so I decided to stay over at her place for the night. I‘ll admit that I was tipsy as hell, but not too drunk to know when someone was trying to take advantage of me. I remember her asking to help me get out of my clothes, and then wanting me to sleep in the bed with her. Too drunk to argue, I agreed and laid my lush ass down to sleep. Well, in the middle of the night I felt Sasha’s hands rubbing all over my body. At first I thought it was a dream, until I felt her tongue inside my ear. I instantly jumped up in shock and let her know that I don’t get down like that. I’m strictly dickly, no doubt about it. She apologized and we agreed to never speak on the subject again.
So, other than Sasha’s attempt to sex me, I hadn’t been in bed with anyone in what felt like forever. That’s why the night that I met Dayvon, I was feeling a little lonely and in need of some male company. It had been almost eight months since I had some sex and I was definitely in the mood. When his fine ass walked over to me and asked to buy me a drink, all my rules went out the window. I had to have him that night. This man had a set of lips on him like L.L. Cool J that just said he loved to eat pussy. His cute smile and charming personality didn’t hurt, either. He didn’t seem to be like most of the other hustlers who came to the club. He had his own style and I was definitely feeling it.
When I took him back into the VIP room that night, I just knew that I was going home with him. I made sure that I gave him a lap dance that would get him as horny as I was for him. I teased, licked, and massaged every inch of him that I could. We both got so hot and heated that we couldn’t wait to get out of that club and back to his place to finish what we had started. Mr. Freeman did not disappoint me that night!
Besides being a pipe laying fool in the bed, Dayvon knew how to treat a lady. It was nothing for him to take me shopping or out to dinner and the movies. Going deeper than that, sometimes he even cooked for me when I stayed over at his crib. This man could really burn in the kitchen. Ain’t many brothers out here today who treat a girl that way and who have some class. Most men that I meet don’t even want to take you out let alone take you shopping. They think that a girl is supposed to be content coming back to their crib, getting drunk, and fuckin’ all night. Not me. A chicken head I would never be.
Even my son had taken a liking to Dayvon. Whenever he came over to visit, they would stay up for hours playing video games. Dayvon called him his lil’ man, and he had no problem taking him out with him when he cruised around town in his Lexus LS430. He’d kinda become like a father to my son since big Malik wasn’t around to raise him. The way Dayvon was with my son, it felt like we were a family. I couldn’t admit that to him, though. We had agreed that we would have an open relationship, with no strings attached. However, I was starting to get a little tired of our current arrangement. I wanted him to be my man and not just some part-time lover.
I don’t know why guys put themselves in this position all the time, doing all the things that a man is supposed to do for his woman, but then don’t wanna commit to a real relationship. You would think that they’d be smart enough to realize that when a woman agrees to an open relationship situation and she’s feeling you, all she’s really doing is just buying time, hoping that you change your mind and give her the commitment that she wants from you. Damn them for spoiling us and not expecting us to fall in love!
After I got a few hours of rest to recoup from the previous night’s romp with Dayvon, I got up to clean my place a bit. It was a far cry from the two-bedroom death trap that I shared up in Brooklyn with my moms and two sisters. I had purchased a spacious, two-bedroom condo for me and my lil’ man that was situated in an upscale community outside of the city. It was adorned with all of the finest amenities, from my imported European furniture to my 55" projection screen TV in the living room. Some things I bought for myself and the rest Dayvon got for me when he was feeling generous, which was most of the time. I must say that I had made out pretty good for a girl from the projects in Brooklyn.
After I finished cleaning up, I decided to study a bit for an exam that I had coming up next week. School was kicking my ass, but the 3.2 GPA that I had was gonna be worth it in the long run. I knew that working in a strip club was not gonna last forever, so I had to have a good backup plan. I wasn’t gonna be one of those 35-year-old chicks with sagging breasts, trying to dance on a pole when I ain’t got no business doing so. I was determined to be successful, and with the right man in my life, that would just make the picture complete for me and Malik. Dayvon Freeman was the man that fit the bill perfectly. I had started to doze off from studying when the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“What’s up, girl? You ready for tonight?” Sasha asked, sounding hyper as hell.
“Yeah, I was sitting here trying to study. I’m still tired from kickin’ it with Dayvon last night after the club,” I said.
“Damn shame, your hot ass,” she said sarcastically.
Sasha was jealous of my relationship with Dayvon and always made some kind of smart remark about us. With all of her scheming and plotting, she never found one cat—or several combined—who would treat her as well as Dayvon treated me.
Whatever, girl. What time do you want me to pick you up?” I asked her.
“Around seven-thirty. I gotta get there early because I’m doing something special tonight. I heard that those cats from Roc-A-Fella Records are coming to the club tonight. You know that means mad tips,” she said.
“Cool. Just make sure you’re ready when I get there,” I said.
“Okay, okay. Oh, one more thing. Have you told your little boyfriend about your surprise?” she asked me.
“No, not yet, but I will when he comes back in town from seeing Ty,” I replied.
“Yeah, then you can see if he’s really real with all this shit he’s been doing for you, or if he’s phony like his boy was with me,” she said.
You see, Sasha and Ty were messin’ around for a minute before he got locked up. He wasn’t really diggin’ her that much and only wanted to fuck her a few times and then dump her. Of course, Sasha had her own plans after she saw how much money he was holding. Ty was living with his son’s mother, Gena, and he was just messing with Sasha for a piece of side ass. However, when Sasha found out about his child’s mother, she was pissed. Sasha was not about to play second fiddle to no bitch.
One day, Sasha decided to confront Gena and wound up getting the ass whipping of her life. Gena was one of them big Amazon girls—about 6' tall—and she just looked like she could fight. Sasha wanted me to get involved, but shit; I didn’t tell her to be messin’ with some other chick’s man. She was on her own with that one. From that point on, Ty stopped messing with Sasha altogether, and she never got over it.
“Yeah, we’ll see what happens when I tell him the news,” I responded.
“Okay. I’ll see you when you get here,” Sasha said.
“Peace,” I replied and hung up the phone.
Now Sasha had me wondering how in the hell I could break the news to Dayvon without him getting upset. I was two weeks late for my period and I just had a gut feeling that something was wrong. I went to the doctor, and she confirmed my suspicion. I was excited as hell when she told me that I was pregnant. Dayvon and I usually used condoms in the beginning, but after we got familiar with each other, we stopped using them. He told me some nonsense that condoms don’t feel natural and that he wanted to feel the real thing when he was inside of me. Far be it from me to argue. I liked it raw, too. Just the thought of having his big Mandingo dick inside of me was enough to make my panties moist. His dick fit inside my pussy like a hand inside a fresh leather glove: not too tight, but just right.
However he would handle the news when I told him, I convinced myself that I would be prepared for his response. If he stuck around, then we could all be the family that I wanted us to be. If he decided to bounce, which is what most young brothers do today, then I would be ready to raise my kids on my own still the same. You see, even though I liked to shop a lot, I was also smart enough to save up a hefty nest egg for a rainy day. I could stop working for at least a year and still pay all my bills, with more than enough money to spare. I pondered my situation a little longer, watching videos on BET, before I dozed off to sleep on the couch. I needed my rest, because I was out to make some major ends that night at the club. Talking to Mr. Freeman would have to wait for another day.
3
Time For A Change
It was the perfect day to make the trip out to see my boy, Ty. It was springtime, the weather was warm, and the calmness of the air was relaxing for me. It was so warm that I could roll the windows down on the whip to catch a nice breeze. This was a nice break for me, considering the amount of stress that I’d been dealing with lately.
I popped in my Better Dayz CD to listen to some ’Pac as I cruised on the highway. The ride gave me a chance to do some thinking about my life and the choices that I had made. I started thinking about the drama that had been going on in the streets lately and asked myself whether or not I wanted to end up being nothing more than another drug dealer who got lost in the game.
In the drug game, nobody gets away with making the amount of money that we were taking down without suffering some losses. I had to admit that we did have a nice, long, six-year run on top of the game, suffering only a few casualties of war. Lately, though, due to a lot of jealous and cats snitching, I’d lost a few of my most loyal soldiers to either death or prison terms. It was getting to be too much for me.
Ty and I controlled just about all of the drug trade in West Baltimore. Our DFL (Dogs For Life) crew consisted of over 200 street soldiers spread across the west side of town. Our drug strips included Garrison Boulevard and Liberty Heights, Park Heights and Belvedere, Pennsylvania and Gold Street, and all of Edmondson Village. We had four lieutenants who we appointed to deal with business on the street level in these major strongholds. Ty and I handled the politiking with our Up North connections when it was time to get more product. Our hands normally stayed free from touching any drugs personally, but everyone was clear as to who was running the show. On a bad week, we easily pulled in about $200,000 to split after paying all of our workers. On the first and fifteenth of the month, when the fiends got their welfare and SSI checks, our profits increased to at least three times that much. Shop opened bright and early, and we were right there, eager to get that money.
Since Ty got knocked on that bullshit conspiracy to distribute charge almost three years ago and copped out to an eight-year bid, all the weight of running things had fallen on me. From all the late night calls when somebody from our crew got locked up and needed bail money to having to deal with beef from rival crews trying to move in on our territory, it was all starting to weigh on my nerves lately. This was what I was going to talk to Ty about, because I had decided that it was time for me to make a change in my life.
Sometimes I would sit and ask myself how I came from a prestigious and well-respected family and wound up living the life of a drug kingpin. My father was a neurosurgeon at Johns Hopkins Hospital, and my mother was a high school principal. I grew up in the Randallstown area, far away from all the drama that takes place in the inner city. My older brother, Eric, my younger sister, Kiera, and I had all of the key ingredients in life to be successful. A stable, two-parent household with no financial struggles was rare to see in the Black community. However, for some reason, I never fit into their middle class world. I guess you could say that I was the black sheep of the family.
Eric graduated from the University of Maryland with honors and was an accountant for a Fortune 500 company in Atlanta. We didn’t really keep in touch that much, but I did see him on occasion when I made my monthly trips down to Atlanta to see Cheri, my Georgia peach. He would usually go on and on, telling me about how I’d hurt my parents by embarrassing the family name and messing up my life. I could only take but so much of his tight, wannabe White ass before I was out the door. Kiera, on the other hand, was in her second year at Coppin State College and planned to become an RN. She loved the ground I walked on and refused to give up on me no matter what everybody else said about me. She was my baby sis; we’d always been tight, and always would be ’til the end.
It seemed as though my world had taken a 180-degree turn from the structured, suburban family environment I was raised in, and I couldn’t figure out where I got off track. All I could do was retrace my steps to when I first met Ty and think about how we got started dealing. I met Ty when I was thirteen years old and we used to play in the BNBL summer basketball tournament. My team, the Randallstown 76ers, used to play his team, the Park Heights Lakers, in the tournament championship every summer. One year his team would win the championship and the next year, my team would win. We were both stars on our teams and we both played the point guard position. Our battles on the court were legendary, kinda like watching Allen Iverson and Stephon Marbury go at it in the NBA, except we were much younger. Out of our intense competition, Ty and I managed to develop a mutual respect for each other and to become the best of friends.
Ty’s family life was the direct opposite of mine. He grew up in the Belvedere Avenue and Park Heights section of the city, which was infamous for its drug activity. Both of his parents were long-time drug addicts. They were killed together, execution-style, over a drug beef when Ty was six years old. It happened right in front of Ty and definitely left its mark on his psyche. After his parents’ death, he was taken in by his Aunt Sheryl and Uncle Will, who lived a block down from Ty’s parents.
Will was his mother’s brother and he was heavy into the drug game. He had the money, jewels, cars, and women that made him a local ghetto celebrity. He became a father figure to Ty and introduced him to the drug game at the age of 10. Ty started out on the block, hand to hand serving the fiends their daily dose of heroin or crack cocaine. Will knew that because of his age, Ty would never have to do any time if he got arrested. Like a true general, he schooled Ty in the rules of the game and molded him into a bonafide street soldier.
Ty introduced me to the game after we had been hanging out together for about two years. I was convinced that I wanted in after I met his uncle. Will was the coolest cat in the world. He had it going on in all ways. He was kinda short and slim, only about 5’ 7” and 150 lbs., but his reputation in the streets earned him much respect throughout the city. I was awed by the props cats would give him whenever Ty and I would cruise around with him in his drop-top Benz. I never knew that a sixteen-year old could have so much fun.
Hanging with Will, Ty and I got to do and see a lot of things that most kids our age never had a chance to. Will would introduce us to older women who were eager to fuck us, just because Will said so. He would take us shopping for new clothes and just show us how a balla was supposed to live. We could get into clubs on the strength of Will’s name, even though we were underage. The excitement that I got from hanging with them was a far cry from my boring life in the suburbs.
I was able to hide my lucrative profession as a drug dealer from my parents for a while, because I always managed to find some kind of bullshit job to use as a front. I worked at Foot Locker and Changes in Mondawmin Mall while I was in high school. That gave me an easy and convenient excuse for how I was able to afford all of the expensive designer clothes that I was wearing that they didn’t buy. I told them that I got a discount at all the stores for working in the mall.
My parents never approved of my friendship with Ty. They saw him as just a ghetto kid who would wind up getting me into trouble. My dad tried punishing me and forbidding me to hang out with Ty, but after I continuously defied his wishes, he conceded and accepted the fact that I would never let him choose my friends. Plus, I still managed to get A’s in school, so I guess he reasoned that I hadn’t strayed too far from his wholesome nest.
That all changed when I was almost seventeen and had just graduated from Randallstown High. That was when I got arrested for the first and only time on a humble. I had just served somebody and walked down the block when 5-0 swarmed on me like I was Saddam Hussein or something. Luckily, I didn’t have any product or money on me, so I knew that the charge wouldn’t stick. They were just trying to harass me to get me to tell them who I was working for, but I was too sharp for their mind games.
What I hadn’t planned on was the rude awakening when my Dad had to come to the precinct to pick me up. Since I was a juvenile, my parents had to be notified. Needless to say, my father cursed me out royally. I could see the shame in his eyes. I tried to tell him that it was all a misunderstanding, but he wasn’t hearing it. He had made up his mind that if this was the lifestyle that I wanted to lead then I would have to move out of his house. My mother agreed with him. At that point, I was forced to move out on my own and my relationship with my parents had been strained ever since.
When Will decided that he was getting out of the drug game, he turned everything over to me and Ty. Will was from the old school when hustlers had some class and it wasn’t all the gunplay, like what my generation has going on today. He reasoned that it was time for him to retire since he had made enough money from hustling and had flipped it into legitimate businesses. He could live lavishly for the rest of his life just off of his residual income. Now I was starting to think that Will’s plan was the road that I wanted to take for myself to get out of the game.
Hagerstown, Maryland was about an hour and some change from Baltimore. It wasn’t a nice place for a brother to have to serve his time. So many of my homies, including Ty, had told me about the harsh treatment that they received from the racist, redneck correctional officers out there. They told me about how the CO’s would wake them up in the middle of the night and just take turns pulling out a can of whip ass on a brother if they felt he ever got out of line with one of them. I knew that this wasn’t a place where I was trying to be a resident anytime soon. As I got closer to my destination, the vibration of my cell phone startled me.
“What’s up, baby? Can a sistah get a chance to holla at a brotha, or what?” the sexy voice said on the other end of the phone. I knew that pretty voice anywhere. It was Cheri, my sexy dime piece down in Atlanta. I hadn’t spoken to her in about two weeks, so I guess she was feeling neglected.
“Come on, now. You know I ain’t got nothing but love for you, girl,” I said.
“I can’t tell. You haven’t returned any of my calls,” she said in her most innocent voice.
“Things for me have been kinda hectic up here. I’ma be down there next weekend to tighten you up just how you like it,” I stated.
“Yeah, we’ll see that when it happens,” she said. She was trying to make me feel guilty.
“I promise you, boo, I’ma make it up to you. Now let me take care of some business, and I’ma holla at you when I’m done,” I said, trying to get her off the phone.
“All right, baby. I just miss seeing your handsome smile” she said.
We talked for about another five minutes so that I could reassure her that I would see her the following week. After I got her off the phone, I made my way to the gate of the prison and into the visiting room to see Ty. Ty stood about six feet tall, medium build, with a light brown complexion. He had a scar on his left cheek from scuffling with a junkie who he had to beat down for stealing from us. Ty wasn’t the most handsome brother, but his thug nature attracted more than enough women.
In our drug family, I was considered to be the brains of the operation and Ty was the muscle. Whenever we had to negotiate prices for some product, I was the negotiator. As for Ty, he was quick to put the murder game down when it was needed to let the competition know that we were not to be fucked with when it came to our money or territories. Only he really knew how many bodies he had unclaimed on the streets. If he didn’t tell me, I never asked him about the rumors that I had heard about his vicious temper.
When he came into the visiting room, we embraced and gave each other a pound because it had been a minute since we had seen one another face to face. Ty and I were like brothers, even though we had no blood relationship. We had the kind of bond that Eric and I could never share, because we just weren’t cut from the same cloth. Ty was waiting anxiously for me to fill him in on what was going on in the streets and to tell him how the money was flowing. As we talked, I filled him in on how things were going down with the family and what was going on with me. I told him about who got knocked and who I had to kick out the crew for coming up short on a package. I told him about how Gena and his son were doing and, of course, I told him about my sexual escapades with the women in my life. Cats in jail loved to hear that shit, because it gave them something to fantasize about when they got back to their cells at night.
After we joked and laughed for a while and I had brought him up to date on the current events, it was time for me to tell him the news that had been eating me up for the last few weeks. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I decided to just say it straight up, pulling no punches.
“Yo, man, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately about getting outta the game for good,” I said.
“What the fuck you talking about, man?” he asked with a confused, angry look on his face.
“I’m just saying, this game ain’t gonna last forever. We done had a good run in this shit. I think it’s about time that we make that change like your uncle did,” I said. I was hoping that he would agree.
“My uncle is old, man. I’m twenty-six years old, full of life, and I’ma be thuggin’ in this shit ’til the day I die. Besides, what else am I gonna do, go to college and be some bookworm and shit?” he asked with a puzzled look on his face. Ty was goon to the bone grissle. From the expression on his face, I could see that he was dead serious. Ty didn’t see any reality besides being a hustla until they put him in the grave. It was all that he knew and all that he aspired to be.
“Man, we done made enough money out here to live like kings for the rest of our lives without having to do this shit no more,” I tried to reason with him. However, it was clear that I was talking to a brick wall.
“Speak for yourself. Ain’t no such thing as enough money. As quick as I spend it, I gotta go make some more,” he reasoned.
He wasn’t lying about his spending habits. Ty had a car for every day of the week and didn’t believe in saving a penny. He was of the mentality that you can’t take it with you when you die, so you might as well spend it all. On the flip side, I invested my money wisely. I hired a Jewish attorney, Marty Weinstein, to launder my money and to invest it in profitable stocks and bonds under a fictitious company name. I had to make sure that if I ever had to do time, I would have money waiting for me when I got out that the Feds couldn’t touch under the RICO act.
“You need to check yourself, homey, ’cause ain’t no way out of this shit except death. You forgot what DFL stands for? This is Dogs for Life! We’re in this game until the death of one of us. Take that you wanna take it!” he stated bluntly.
I stared in disbelief at his veiled threat. You see, when we first started the DFL crew, Ty and I had taken a blood oath that we would be in the drug game together for life. We vowed that if either of us ever broke this oath, then the penalty was death. We were young at the time and ignorant as hell to the changes that life would throw our way. Back then, life was all peaches and cream with the money, women, and respect that we got. Now that I was many years older and wiser, I saw the dead end road the streets really had to offer. I refused to be bound by a boyhood oath now that I was a grown ass man, capable of making more responsible decisions.
“Look, Ty, I’ma keep things tight for you with our crew until you get out in six months. After that, I’m out,” I said. I looked him dead in his eyes to let him know that I was serious and wasn’t about to back down from my statement.
“Do what you feel, Day, but just know that I ain’t gonna forget this shit. I always knew you were a suburban nigga trying to be a thug. You have never been built for this game anyway. I’m getting tired of caring your bitch ass anyway” he said. His eyes cut right through me. I could feel the rage growing in him. I could tell that he took my choice as a kind of betrayal and form of disloyalty. Nonetheless, I had to do what I had to do for me.
“Fuck you, Ty. I’m bouncin’ because you talking some crazy shit for real. I ain’t no punk, no sucker, or a whore. Try my hand and see how I’m built!” I shot back standing my ground. Those were my last words as I got up from the table and walked away from a dude who I thought was my brother.
“Fuck me? No fuck you. You just wrote ya death certificate, nigga!” he proclaimed boldly for all to hear. He continued cursing at me loudly, making a scene for everybody to see.
He was straight violating the family code about handlin’ family business out in public. His rant continued until the guards caught wind of the commotion and escorted him back to his cell. I tried to convince myself that Ty hadn’t become so caught up in this street life that he forgot the long history we shared. I knew that Ty could be dangerous when he was angry, and capable of some sinister shit. However, I was too smart to get caught slippin’. Still buggin’ off of what had just happened, I picked up my cell to call Cheri back. The phone rang three times before she answered.
“Hello,” she answered sounding sexy as ever.
“What’s up, boo? What you wearing right now?” I asked.
“Nothing but a thong and one of your T-shirts to keep me warm,” she said.
“Damn, girl. I’m on my way down there tonight,” I said in response.
“Yeah, right, Dayvon,” she said with doubt in her voice.
“I’m serious, RiRi. I’m stressed out and need to get away for a minute,” I told her.
“I got something to help you out with that stress, Daddy. What time are you coming?” she asked.
“I’m not sure yet. Let me check the flight schedule and hit you back to tell you what time to pick me up from the airport.”
She agreed and I hung up the phone to call the airline to make my reservation. Then I called Cheri back and gave her the information so that she could meet me at the airport. Lying up in the sunshine with a sexy sistah in a stress-free environment was just what I needed to take my mind off this nonsense with Ty. When I returned home, I knew that it would be time to face the music after the fire that I had just started.
4
Welcome To Atlanta
The plane ride to Atlanta was so calm and relaxing that I slept the whole trip. I would’ve kept on sleeping if it wasn’t for the fine ass stewardess who woke me up. I had been flirting with her when I first boarded the flight and she must have liked it, because she slipped me her number on the DL when I was exiting the plane. She was one of them long-legged, big-breasted Italian broads, straight from Italy. They weren’t like the Italian girls born here in America. Sicilian chicks were built like sistahs, for real! Her name was Isabella. I would definitely be holding on to her number for a rainy day when I might need some out of town ass or a place to lay low.
Before I left for my trip, I made sure that I left proper instructions with all of my crew as to how to handle business while I was gone, but I never told them where I was going. I knew that Ty was still pissed at me after my visit and there was no telling what kinda crazy shit his evil ass might cook up for me. He had called me two times before I left my house, but I didn’t answer the phone because I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with his bullshit. I was hoping that after a little time to think, he might cool down and see things from my point of view. I was also playing it safe just in case he was trying to bring me some drama.
I left Pooh, who ran all of Edmondson Village for us, in charge of things, and made sure that all of my other lieutenants were straight as far as product for a couple of weeks. All of our other lieutenants—Lil’ Jay, Stink, and Ronnie-O—were leadership potential and kept their crews tight, but I chose Pooh to be in charge, because he was the one who was most loyal to me. We had become tight from the time that I first put him on with us when he was like thirteen years old.
His Pops had left him and his family when he was two years old. He didn’t have any males around him to look up to for guidance, so he turned to me. He was a smart kid and he knew that growing up as the man of the house meant he would have to take care of his mother and sister. When he came to me one day on the strip and asked to get on, I couldn’t tell him no after he told me how rough shit was at home. Over time, I became like a big brother to Pooh. I groomed him the same way that Will had groomed Ty. He was a hustlin’ lil’ nigga, and that was why even though he was only eighteen, he was running his own crew now.
Pooh never forgot how much love I had showed him and the trust that I had put in him. I knew that I had Pooh’s loyalty for life and that he would kill a nigga with no hesitation if I ever needed him to. You always need to keep soldiers around you like that in this game.
While I was sitting in the airport waiting for Cheri, I checked my messages at home and on my cell phone. Kiera had called and left me a message just to check on me. I would give her a call when I got to Cheri’s house. Then there were a couple of messages from Jaré wondering where I was, ranting and raving about needing to see me. She would have to put that shit on freeze until I got back in town. The last message that I heard was a pleasant, unexpected surprise from Nikki. Nikki was this fine Jamaican honey that I had met at the club, Dreams, in D.C. a few months ago. She lived in P.G. County and I’d been hittin’ her off every now and then when I got a chance. She was definitely getting a call when I got back to Bmore.
After I finished checking my messages, I shut my cell phone off. Cheri was gonna get my undivided attention while I was down here in the dirty South. I did, however, leave my other cell on, because that line was strictly for business, just in case anybody from my crew needed to reach me. As I was gathering my luggage to go outside to wait for Cheri, I saw her walking through the lobby toward me. All eyes were on her as she strutted her sophisticated self through the terminal. This sistah knew she had it going on in all ways and loved the attention.