Anthony peered over at DeQuan from the corner of his eyes. Watching the nigga bop his head to the heavy beats booming from the speakers and whip the Caddy like shit was gravy made Anthony's blood boil. He clenched his teeth and shifted his eyes back to the road to squelch any visible sign that he was angry. Anthony fought the urge to reach over and beat DeQuan's ass right then and there.
DeQuan and Anthony had been boys since ninth grade when they played on the high school basketball team together. Their friendship started out as an intense rivalry. They both wanted to play point guard. But the competitive nature between them faded, on the court at least, when they both were made forwards.
After that they were little more than cool until they tag teamed a Spanish chick on the cheerleading squad named Catalina. She was a pretty, long haired senior and they were only freshmen at the time. Anthony was surprised that the chick was so freaked out when DeQuan told him she wanted to fuck with both of them.
Right after the season opening game, DeQuan led Catalina and Anthony to the empty equipment room. Catalina paid more attention to Anthony the whole time. He was the quote, unquote pretty yellow nigga with cornrows braided down to his shoulders. Girls had always shown their interest in Anthony but he wasn't all that good with words.
DeQuan wasn't ugly by any account. He was decent looking with a dark chocolate complexioned and handsome face but he mostly got females because of his muscles and his gift of gab. That was how he hooked Catalina so many years ago. Even then Anthony knew DeQuan used Anthony's looks to bag females for the two of them, but Anthony had no problem with it as long as he got his dick wet too.
And boy did he get his fill when Catalina threw that wet Spanish pussy back at him. The sex was good and the fact that he was a freshman and she was a senior made it all that more hot for him. But the part that stood out the most about that day was what DeQuan did.
He didn't even fuck her. DeQuan stuffed his dick in the chick's mouth while Anthony hit it from the back and tried to gag her. The dude was relentless when he face fucked her. After about ten minutes he pulled out, yanked her head back by her hair and busted all over her face. After he squeezed the last drop out onto her lip he pulled up his shorts and walked out like nothing had happened.
Anthony and DeQuan had been tight from that day on, their friendship forged over pussy, but Anthony knew exactly what type of dude he was. Sure, he put Anthony on to make some money hustling dope and made his pockets fat as shit but he had a fucked up way with females, especially females he couldn't have gotten on his own strength. The nigga was a snake when it came to pussy. Anthony shouldn't have been surprised when he heard about his girl Tatyana and DeQuan fucking on the side.
The other day one of his regular fiends, Bri-Bri, came by trying to get a vial of crack but didn't have enough cash. The chick was the epitome of a strung out dope fiend. She hadn't even been on the shit for more than a couple months and was already tricked out.
"Come on Ant," she had pleaded. "You know I'm good for it. I just need this hit to get through the day. I promise I'll pay you the rest tomorrow."
"Fuck that. You loyal but aint shit free. I don't stretch my shit and you know it. I got that quality and I aint bout to discount it."
"I can suck your dick," Bri-Bri had offered.
"Bitch what? Hell naw. Why the fuck would I let your crack head lips touch my dick? Besides, I got me a female. I'm good."
"Who? That bitch Tatyana from down the way?"
"Yea, why?"
"Nothing. Just something I think you should know."
"What?"
Thinking about the crooked smile that spread on Bri-Bri face still made Anthony cringe.
"Aint shit free," Bri-Bri had mocked. "Especially quality information. Give me that rock and I'll tell you."
"Tell me what you got to say or find someone else to supply your addiction, bitch."
"Fine. I saw your boy DeQuan leaving her apartment twice last month. It was late. And I aint see your car nowhere around."
"Bitch, if you playing me I'm going to fuck you up. I aint got no problem beating down a lying ass female," Anthony had said, cracking his knuckles. "You can believe that shit."
Bri-Bri had sworn on her grandmother's grave that she was telling the truth. It didn't sway Anthony. A fiend would say anything for a rock. But he had given her the vial anyways. Bri-Bri was known for telling gossip or offering blow jobs for a free hit. Niggas that let her slob on their dick said she had a fire head game. And everyone that got word about what was going on in the streets from her had never found what she said to be untrue. But Anthony had to do his own reconnaissance.
For a week, Anthony squatted outside Tatyana's crib and waited. He was about to give up but the night before last he saw the nigga going in her apartment a few hours after Anthony acted like he had left. Anthony was mad as shit. He never thought it would be his boy. The same nigga he called his brother.
Anthony was more upset with Tatyana. She was supposed to be his main chick, on some wifey type shit. There were moments when he would look at Tatyana and envision the two of them married. But none of that clouded his judgment.
Females always thought they game was tighter and slicker than a nigga's. Anthony knew this. He was hip from the jump and got a copy of the key to Tatyana's apartment when they first started rapping a year ago. The first thing he learned about females was that they couldn't be trusted. He knew DeQuan was a dog but he thought he was at least loyal enough not to fuck his main bitch.
Anthony had snuck in the house. He saw the nigga's pants draped over the couch in the living room. Anthony pulled out the wallet. DeQuan's license was the first thing he saw. When he went in the apartment, Anthony planned on beating DeQuan down and dropping Tatyana on the spot. But then he heard them fucking in the bedroom. Anthony left before he ended up busting a cap in both their asses.
Anthony looked over at DeQuan again. He couldn't help himself. He wanted to beat his ass so bad. But he had a few of his boys waiting to lay in on DeQuan's ass. He'd get his as soon as they were done with the quick run. Shit would be on and popping.
"Who these niggas anyways?" Anthony asked, breaking the silence in the car.
"I told you, Ant. Some Jamaican motherfuckers from New York. They got some good shit too."
"Some good shit, hunh? And you sure all they want is sixteen stacks for a kilo?"
"Damn, aint I already tell you the shit. They want sixteen stacks for a kilo, nigga. And our business. They smuggling the shit in from Mexico or Columbia or some shit. They drive back up to New York to sell it. But they stop here, in North Carolina first."
Anthony shook his head. "That shit wholesale for twenty, eighteen if you got a fire ass connect. Shit don't sound right if all they want is sixteen. If the purity some shit the fiends will know."
"Stop worrying, nigga. It's 100% pure cocaine. Uncut. We cook it up and we both pocketing fifty stacks each, straight profit."
"Alright, fine. Gonna trust you on this. But I promise, if these Jamaicans on some bullshit I'm straight busting on they asses. They gone to feel the heat, believe that."
"Chill, Ant," DeQuan said, rolling his eyes. "It aint even going down like that. Straight business. We need a new connect anyways."
"Whatever man," Anthony said. He sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest.
The last thing on his mind was finding a new connect. They'd been through four in the past year. It was the same every time. DeQuan would find a connect and they all tried to up the price when him and DeQuan wanted more. Naw, the one and only thing on Anthony's mind was fucking up DeQuan for the grimy shit he'd done. Making this move with the Jamaicans as quickly as possible was simply a means to an end.
Anthony turned and faced the passenger side window and watched as the street they rode down transformed right before his eyes. The older historic homes quickly gave way to houses that looked like South African shanty homes and they eventually were overcome by dirty, run down duplexes and triplexes.
DeQuan slowed down and pulled into the parking lot in front of one of the duplexes. There was an old beat up Corolla with New Jersey tags in the driveway.
At least these niggas wasn't flashy, drawing attention and shit, Anthony thought.
DeQuan jumped out the car and went to the trunk for the brief case of money. He headed for the door of the duplex, money in tow. Anthony was right behind him. The pair didn't even knock on the door. It just opened.
A chocolate toned, thick ass female filled the frame of the entrance in nothing but a black thong and a very revealing lace bra. Anthony's eye roaming from the woman's smooth, silky calves and thighs up to her curvy hips and full, round breast. Anthony's manhood thickened in his jeans as his gaze settled on the nipple piercing pressing against her bra.
The black Amazonian slowly looked the two men up and down before licking her full lips and turning her back to the pair, motioning for them to follow. Once inside, she closed the door and began patting down Anthony.
She was thorough, pulling at Anthony's swollen manhood a few times before she slipped his piece from his waist. Before he could object, she leaned in, gripped Anthony's hand and placed it on her bare ass. She pressed against his rigid body and whispered in his ear that he would get it back when he left.
After she patted down DeQuan with a lot less attention she led the pair in the dining room. Aside from the table next to the door, it was the only place that had any type of furniture; just a table and four chairs.
Anthony sized up the two men in the room. The tall, skinny light-skinned dude with the dreads swinging nearly to the middle of his back stood in the kitchen rolling up a blunt. He nodded his head in Anthony and DeQuan's direction. The pair returned the gesture. Anthony looked at the counter. Three blunts were already rolled up.
The second man, a thick-necked, bald, midnight black nigga stood and dapped up Anthony and DeQuan. He motioned for the two of them to sit as he plopped back in his chair against the wall. The man in the dreads looked at his cell phone and smiled at Anthony and DeQuan.
"I like a business partner that comes on time," the man said in a heavy Jamaican accent.
"You know, just trying to make this a regular thing, feel me?" DeQuan said, eliciting smiles and nods. "This is my partner I was telling you about, Anthony. Everyone calls him Ant." DeQuan pointed to the Jamaicans. "That's Day and that's Knight."
Anthony nodded at both of them in acknowledgment. The names fit, he thought. Anthony shifted his gaze back to Day, the yellow cat with the dreads. The man looked young, probably DeQuan and Anthony's age. Knight was definitely older. The man had to be at least thirty. He reminded Anthony of the big bama looking niggas that be looking crazy at the Caribbean carnivals.
DeQuan held up the briefcase and set it on the wobbly table. "I got all the cash right here."
