Читать книгу The Game Don't Change - Mazaradi Fox - Страница 8

CHAPTER FOUR

“Boy, stop standing around looking like you lost,” DeMarco’s Aunt V. said.

“Auntie, it just feels so good to be back home,” DeMarco responded with a smile.

“Um huh, I still don’t see why them people let you go early and didn’t call to tell nobody.”

“I told you, they took time off because I was bein good.”

Aunt V. shook her head, knowing damn well he was lying; she’d let him think she was oblivious for the time being. “Boy, get in here so you can eat,” she said, walking back into the house.

“A’ight,” he replied before taking a quick look at his surroundings once more. Being on the run had him checking his back every other minute—he was betting that they wouldn’t look for him at his aunt’s place.

After he ate, DeMarco realized just how exhausted he was. He felt beat now that all the adrenaline had worn off. He went into one of the extra rooms and dropped back on the bed. As soon as he got comfortable, he fell right out, not even remembering to call Mrs. B like he told her he would.

* * *

“Damn, boy, you must’ve been tired; you slept all day and night,” Aunt V. said the next morning.

“I did? Yesterday was a long day for me.” DeMarco took a seat at the kitchen table as his aunt stood at the sink washing dishes.

“Nice to see you home, nigga,” his cousin Money greeted, walking into the kitchen.

“Nigga, it’s nice to be home,” DeMarco said, smiling.

“Well, you know we got some catchin up to do. I’ma get up wit you though. I gotta make a couple of moves,” Money said, and turned to leave.

“No doubt.”

“So what you gonna be doin wit yourself?” Aunt V. asked.

“I’ma see if Uncle Br—”

“I don’t think so. Me and Momma Paula got just the thing for you. As a matter of fact, wait here a minute,” she said. She got up and left the kitchen, returning a few minutes later with a brown paper bag and some money. “Take it and drop this bag off around the way—that’s your job from now on. I don’t wanna see you standin on no damn block callin yourself a hustler! You hear me?”

“Yes, I got you, auntie,” he said, getting up and leaving.

* * *

The weeks flew by for DeMarco. Between chilling with his cousin Money and running around, he was keeping himself busy.

One day while they were chilling, DeMarco noticed Money making a sale.

“Ayo, Money, you hustlin dope?” DeMarco asked, surprised.

“Nigga, this my own shit! Mommy and them pay me a’ight, but what they pay me for a week I see in a couple hours, or a day at the most.”

DeMarco didn’t know how much Aunt V. or Momma Paula were paying Money, but he was getting $800 a week. He figured Money was getting more than that and did some quick math in his head. Just as he was about to question Money some more, their cousin Steph walked up on them.

“Wassup, cuz?” Steph said, giving DeMarco a hug.

“Ain’t shit, girl. Just chillin.”

“Wassup, Money?”

“Shit, what’s good wit you? When you gonna take some of this work and hold it down for me in the spot?” Money asked her.

“Boy, please! Auntie and them would kill us both,” she said.

DeMarco sat listening to his cousins talk until he felt his pager vibrating. Looking at the number, he realized it was Momma Paula.

“Ayo, I gotta make a run. I’ll get up wit y’all later,” DeMarco said, and started walking off.

“Ayo, DeMarco, wait up. I’m goin that way,” Steph said, running up beside him. “So wassup with you?”

“Ain’t shit, just tryna stack some money, so I can snatch this whip.”

“How much you need?” she asked.

“$1,100,” he replied.

“What you got now?”

“Girl, I ain’t tellin you how much bread I got.” He stopped walking. Even though they were blood, he didn’t trust anyone enough to say how much money he had.

“Boy, I don’t want your money,” she countered, punching him in the arm. “Just know if you need me for anything, holla at me.” She gave him a quick hug before turning to walk away.

* * *

After making his drops for the day, DeMarco sat in his room and counted all the money he had saved up so far.

$3,500. Damn, I’m still $7,500 short. Fucking with auntie and them it will take me three, four more months to cop this whip, DeMarco thought to himself, and then put the rubber band back around his knot. Placing it back in the shoe box, he tried to figure out how he could make a quick come-up. He thought about Steph and what she’d said. Maybe she had a connection for him or maybe Money could put him on. His aunts would be pissed, but he needed to figure something out sooner than later.

* * *

The next morning, DeMarco was up early. He got dressed and headed downstairs, not surprised to see his aunts sitting in the kitchen.

“Wassup, aunties?” he asked, before giving them each a kiss on their cheek.

“Shit, you up early today. What you about to get into?” Momma Paula asked.

“I fell out early last night, so I’m well energized, plus I got a couple of things I need to handle,” he said.

“A’ight, well, just be in the area around 1:00,” Aunt V. said.

“I won’t be far,” he replied, and left without eating. He was focused on finding his cousin and seeing if she could really put him on.

He walked around the block to 118th where he figured Steph would be, but was pissed when he didn’t see her. Damn, where the fuck is this girl at? he wondered.

His stomach started growling, so he walked to the closet corner store to grab something to snack on. He came out of the store a couple minutes later with a bag of chips and a Pepsi and started heading back up the block. He continued on his mission to find his cousin, but before he did a light-skinned chick with a fat ass distracted him. She was on the other side of the street, but he wasn’t about to let her get out of his sight.

Damn, he thought as he yelled out, “Ayo, shorty, can I get a minute of your time?” Looking around as if there might be someone else with her, shorty stopped and stood looking at DeMarco as he came across the street. No doubt she was fine—he had to know her name. Standing there in a pair of Guess shorts that barely held her ass inside of them, and a Guess shirt with a pair of white 5411 Reebok Classics she had his full attention. He couldn’t front: shorty was bad.

“Where you headed to, ma?” DeMarco asked.

“Why would I tell you that? I don’t know you from a can of paint,” she said.

“You don’t have to act like that, yo. If I’m bothering you, I’ll keep it moving.”

“No, I’m sorry about that, it’s just I’m annoyed as hell right now. I was supposed to meet my homegirl at the park, but she stood me up,” shorty said.

“Come on. I’ll chill with you in the park if you want some company. Do you mind?”

“Well, I don’t got shit to do till later, so that’s cool,” she said, and they started walking toward the park.

DeMarco perched on the back of a bench and shorty sat down on the seat. “So what’s your name?” he asked.

“Tiffany, but everybody calls me Tiff.”

“I’m DeMarco. Nice to meet you Tiff,” he said, causing her to smile. “So where you from?”

“I live in 40 projects with my sista when she’s home,” Tiff answered, pulling a piece of gum out of her pocket. “Want one?”

“Nah, I’m good, ma.”

Sitting there talking to Tiff, he didn’t realize how the time was passing until he felt his pager vibrate. Damn, he thought to himself as he clipped it back on his shorts.

“Tiff, I gotta go handle somethin, but I’m definitely tryna get up with you again,” he said, getting down off the back of the bench.

“Okay, well, here go my number, just call me.” Tiffany pulled a pen and piece of paper out of her pocketbook, then stood up. “I hope to hear from you,” she said, licking her lips and walking off.

“Oh, no doubt you will,” he replied, slipping the number in his pocket.

* * *

Back at the house, he went into the kitchen where he knew his aunt would be.

“Sorry about that, auntie, I kind of lost track of time,” he said as he grabbed the bag off the table and turned to leave.

“Uh, some boy named Lil’ Nicky called here for you,” she told him.

“Word?” He stopped in his tracks.

“Yeah, he said he’d try you back later.”

“Auntie, if I’m not here, can you give him my pager number?”

“I ain’t your damn secretary! You need to go and get you a cell phone.”

“I love you,” he said, smiling, telling himself that once he made his drop he was going to do just that.

* * *

Coming from his last drop-off, he went to Queens Center mall, heading straight to the first cell phone store he saw.

He looked around for a minute or two before the store clerk approached.

“Can I help you?”

He turned around, but couldn’t speak for a moment because the chick who stood in front of him had him completely mesmerized. She looked like a darker, younger version of Mrs. B.

“Can I help you?” she asked again.

“My fault, shorty, you just reminded me of somebody, but yeah, I need a phone,” he replied.

“Okay, well, come this way.” She led him to a display case. “Now, what kind of phone you looking for?”

“It don’t even matter, yo, as long as it works.” He was more interested in her than the phone.

“Okay, well, let me show you what we have.”

* * *

Thirty minutes later, she was packing up his phone for him.

“Now, you can just throw the box out for me, if you don’t mind, um . . .” he paused, realizing he hadn’t gotten her name.

“Jessica.”

“Thanks, Jessica.”

After taking a few steps, he stopped and turned back to her. “Ayo, Jess, you can use that number anytime,” he said, and then walked out of the store.

Leaving Queens Center, DeMarco saw a gray Acura Legend and thought of the one he wanted. Man, where my cousin at?

Getting back to the block, DeMarco passed the crib and headed around the corner to 118th to see if he could run into Steph. He saw everyone else except her. He was almost about to give up, when she came walking around the corner.

“Wassup, cuz?” he said. “Yo, I been lookin for you all mornin.”

“I stayed over at a friend’s house uptown yesterday. But what up though?”

“Come on, let’s hit the park and talk,” he said.

Stopping at the same bench him and shorty had sat on earlier, DeMarco started laughing.

“Nigga, what’s so funny?” Steph asked.

“Just thinkin about somethin. But yo, on some real shit, cuz, when you said I can ask you for help, what did you mean by that?”

“Just what I said. You my favorite cousin. When I was out here fucked up, you was the only one that didn’t look at me different. Wassup? Talk to me.”

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Listen, Steph. Fuckin with auntie and them is all good, but I see the money out here and I want in.”

“So?”

“So I need ya help. You know I can’t let auntie and them see me hustlin, and even if I did, they ain’t gonna sell me shit anyway. I know you know people, plus you in the spot every day. You know all the heads that come through.”

She sat quietly for a bit before jumping up suddenly and smiling. “Nigga, let’s get it,” she said. “What you got to spend?”

“Like $4,300,” he replied.

“A’ight, meet me here at 6. I’ll make a few calls.”

“I’ll be here. I love you cuz, on some real shit,” he said, before giving her a quick hug.

They both left the park and went their separate ways.

Having a couple of hours to just chill until he had to meet back up with Steph, DeMarco pulled out his phone and dialed a number that he could never forget. When no one answered, he hung up. Then he spotted his cousin Money sitting on the porch in front of his aunt’s house.

“Wassup, Money?”

“Nothin, just waitin for this shorty to come holla at me,” he replied.

“Nigga, when you gonna tell Tonya to hook me up with one of her girls?”

“Why you won’t tell Tonya yourself?” Tonya said, approaching from behind.

“Girl, you better start making some noise when you walkin up on people,” DeMarco said as Tonya stood there laughing. “I know you got some bad-ass friends. You can hook me up?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she responded, climbing up the steps and into the house.

“Oh shit, look who it is,” Money said, as a black-on-black BMW pulled up in front of them.

“Wassup?” DeMarco said as his Uncle Bruh got out of his whip.

“Same shit, nephew. Paula in the house?” Uncle Bruh asked, shaking his hand.

“Nah, I ain’t see her all day,” Money said. “Ayo, when you gonna let me drive?”

“Nigga, all the money I hear you around here trickin off, you coulda bought you some wheels,” Uncle Bruh said, laughing as he got back into his car. “I’ll catch you lil’ niggas later.”

“A’ight, unc,” DeMarco said before walking inside.

He hung around the house until it was time to head back out to meet Steph. He arrived a few minutes late, but as promised, she was waiting for him.

“It’s about time, nigga,” she said as he sat down next to her. “Don’t get comfortable, we gotta take a lil’ ride.”

They headed to the subway station and jumped on a train heading to an unknown destination.

“Ayo, cuz, where we goin?” he finally asked, once they sat down.

“Uptown, nigga, where else?” Steph replied with a crooked grin.

* * *

DeMarco stood next to Steph while she did business. Deciding to spend only $2,800, Steph talked homeboy into giving them 120 grams.

Forty-five minutes later, DeMarco sat in Steph’s crib watching her bag up the product.

“You see, cuz, you chop it up into the size of rocks you want ’em to be, then put ’em in the capsule. Everybody over there selling dimes and better, but we gonna fuck the game up and sell nickels,” Steph said, pushing the plate of rocks into the middle of the table.

An hour and a half later, DeMarco sat at the table with his cousin looking at all the capsules packed up and ready for distribution.

“That’s $10,500,” she said.

Damn! he thought to himself as he started calculating in his head. “A’ight, cuz, I trust you. You know we gotta keep this between us. Auntie and them can’t find out about none of this,” he said, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll never do you wrong. I got you,” Steph replied, looking into his eyes.

“A’ight, I’ll get with you tomorrow.”

Feeling good, DeMarco headed back around the way, thinking about how shit was about to go down. Digging into his pocket for his phone, he felt a piece of paper and pulled it out. He’d forgotten all about the shorty he’d met. He decided to give her a call.

“Hello,” a female said on the third ring.

“Can I speak to Tiffany?”

“This is Tiffany. Who dis?”

“What’s good, ma? Dis DeMarco.”

“I ain’t think you was gon call.” He could hear the smile in her voice.

“I told you I would. So what you up to?” he asked.

“Nothin, just sittin here smokin.”

“Now that’s what I’m talkin ’bout.”

“You said that like you was on your way here,” she laughed.

“Soon as you give me the apartment number.”

“306.”

“A’ight. Got you. On my way!”

DeMarco flagged down a cab and told the driver where he wanted to go. He sat back thinking about what he was going to do to shorty. When they pulled up in front of the building, he paid the driver, then got out and headed up to her third-floor apartment. He knocked a few times with no answer. After a minute passed and nobody came to the door, he knocked again. Still no answer. He began to pull out his phone and was about to call her when he heard the chain slide from the other side. The door opened and Tiff was just standing there in a red bra and short-shorts, looking good enough to eat. He was speechless as he looked her up and down.

“You comin in?” she asked, smiling and stepping to the side. She led him to the living room where she had a movie playing.

“Scarface! This is my shit!” he said as he sat down on the sofa.

“This is one of my favorite movies.” She picked up a Dutch from off the table and started cracking it open.

Two blunts later, they both sat high as a kite. DeMarco was relaxed and deep into the movie when he felt Tiffany going for the zipper on his pants. He looked over at her and didn’t say a word as she pulled his dick through his boxers and wrapped her lips around it.

“Damn, girl,” he finally said, looking down at her sucking his dick like a professional.

“You like that?” she asked, coming up for air.

“Definitely. Don’t stop.” He pushed her head back down on his dick.

Thirty minutes later she was still sucking, and it felt so good he had to stop her. “Easy, girl. Get up and take those clothes off.”

Tiffany stood up and started coming out of the little bit of clothes she had on, bra first. When she pulled off her shorts and panties, her pretty pussy put him in a trance. It was perfectly trimmed and fat as hell.

“Come sit on this pole,” he said, pulling off his clothes.

Straddling him, Tiffany grabbed his dick with her right hand and held it while she slid down on him. “Oh shit,” she gasped.

With his dick inside of her, moving slowly at first, she worked him as her pussy grew wet. After a few minutes, she picked up speed, putting one of her feet on the sofa and riding him in a squatting position. She was bouncing up and down and the sound of her ass slapping against his thighs was driving him insane. He flipped her over on the couch and pulled her legs up on his shoulders. She moaned loudly as he slid all the way inside her. He spread her legs open wider by her ankles and started pounding on her pussy fast and deep.

“Oooh, yes. Just like that!” she yelled.

He continued fucking her for the next hour, until he nutted all over her stomach. He could get used to being with her. For a young girl, she knew how to make a nigga feel good. The pussy was so good it knocked him out. He slept like a baby with no intention of going home.