Sex in the Hood Saga (34 page)

She's feelin' it now; she knows this ain't no joke.
Knight's insides melted. Heart pounded. If anything ever happened to her, he would have no reason to live. Not for the millions they were making together, not for the fulfillment of providing jobs and security in his neighborhood, and not for the satisfaction of using his money to feed a village of hungry, AIDS and war-orphaned children in Africa.

After tasting the sweetest love with a woman who was truly his other half, the death of her would be the end of him. Anxiety stabbed his heart then radiated throughout his whole chest. The pounding pulse in his ears, and its irregular rhythm, let him know something was very wrong. Those little bouts of something, the tight chest, the dizziness, the pounding heart; it would come and go in terrifying episodes that lasted for thirty seconds or thirty minutes. His doctor said it was anxiety attacks. But there was no way a six foot, seven inch survivor of D-town's meanest streets and now king of Babylon, was having punk ass anxiety attacks.

No, something was wrong. And it had gone wrong in jail, when the doctors had injected him with what they called a flu shot, despite his objections.

Knight was countering its effects everyday with meditation, exercise, and a healthy diet. But he needed to step up his visualizations of himself in perfect health, and never let The Queen know about this heart crisis that he feared could kill him at any moment. No, he had to cure it before she ever knew. And in the meantime, his every thought focused on protecting his Queen and preparing Babylon for their dramatic exit.
Soon I'll put her through the ultimate test.

The phone vibrated on his waistband. REBA flashed across the bluescreen.

“I told you not to call me,” Knight said, watching The Queen.

“Oh, Daddy, you know you missed this good pussy while you was down.”

Reba's high-pitched, little-girl voice always made him think she'd just eaten some cotton candy or put away her Barbie dolls.

“You gotta make up for what you lost. An' I know ‘miss white chocolate' ain't gettin' down like you know this ebony sista can.”

Knight glanced at three couples fucking on top of a Hummer in The Garage. “Reba, you're the lead dancer at the Bang Squad's after party. Why the hell aren't you working?”

“Came up to my apartment to call you.”

“We don't pay you to play on the phone. Get your ass downstairs to work. And one more call like this, we won't need your services any more at Babylon.”

“I'm one of y'all's best Sluts,” Reba said. “Shoot, I'll go toVegas, make my own fortune, 'steada bein' a trampoline for every rapper that hit D-town.”

“Those were Willie Mae's last words,” Knight said, “before she ended up working five-dollar johns on Eight Mile. That'll be you, if you keep forgetting where I stand.”

“But where The Queen stand?” Reba snapped. “I seen her standin' on top of a fat dick this mornin'. She was doin' sexercise wit' Antoine an' his fine ass. An' I ain't just talkin' about sit-ups.”

Knight took a deep breath to flush out the image of his Queen fucking anybody but him. He knew for a fact she hadn't. Because he knew her every move, her every spoken word, and every word spoken to her. He knew with technological sureness that she had never, not once in a year, even talked about flirting or fucking with someone else. But the image of Antoine and Queen tonight at the party, and of her squatting down on that Stud's chocolate dick made Knight's heart pound with pain. Felt like all the little muscle fibers were sharp needles poking into each other.

“My pussy drippin' right now, Knight,” Reba whispered. “Just yo' voice make me wanna cum all ova yo' face.”

“This is our last conversation,” Knight said. His ears tuned out, and he focused his attention on The Queen.

He handed the phone to Gerard and said, “Truce, my brotha, let me share some of the wealth of Babylon.” As far as Knight was concerned, Gerard was through, but he'd keep him on board so he could keep tabs on him and put Paul in charge of security.

Gerard said playfully as he took the phone. “Man, I'm married.”

“Reba's clean as a whistle,” Knight said. “Since her sister died of HIV, she's vigilant about safe sex.”

Gerard smiled as he pressed the phone to his ear, his eyes glazing with lust when he was supposed to be watching the monitors.

Yeah, Paul's in charge. Gerard is oblivious to his work when his dick gets hard.
Knight watched The Queen, who was having a serious conversation with the woman Flame had dissed. The woman was smiling, thanks to the Stud who picked up the slack and was holding her hand, but was still going off about something.

Gerard groaned, “Yeah, the jacuzzi, when I get off at three tonight. Yeah, baby, I can hook you up at the mall tomorrow. Big Daddy rollin' like that.”

Knight thought Gerard was a ridiculous, unprofessional muhafucka. Five minutes ago he was being reprimanded for slacking on the job; now he thought everything was cool since Knight passed some pussy off to him. Just like everybody else, Gerard didn't need to have a clue about what Knight was planning.

Paul was watching the monitors, but his eyes were moving back and forth in a way that showed he was trying to figure out what Knight would say or do next. Scratch that, muthafucka, because Knight was master of The Prince Code—be unpredictable.

And Gerard was too dumb to know that, looking all pussy whipped. “Knight, thanks for the pussy man.”

“Dig that,” Knight said with a cool nod as he took his phone back. “He who giveth, receiveth the kingdom.”

“Say it any way you like.” Gerard scanned the monitors. “I'll receive a kingdom of pussy all day long. 'Specially from Reba. She act like she in heat twenty-four/seven.”

“She's in heat for ‘benjamin,' just like all of them are,” Knight said as two white women with business-style haircuts sauntered over to the buffet, knelt with their hands behind their backs, and plucked shrimp off the bare body of a Stud. As the women stood, chewed and burst into laughter, the diamond wedding rocks on their left hands sparkled in the pink and purple light. The Queen's necklace glistened too.

“Paul, I'll have her collar tomorrow so you can do a sound check an' upgrade the lo-jack chip,” Knight said. Yeah, he trusted his lady. But he needed to keep her on 'round the clock radar for her own protection. If anything ever happened, he'd be able to find her in a heartbeat. And she never needed to know she was being tracked.

“Sure thing, bossman,” Paul said.

Gerard punched several green buttons and studied the screens. “All your admirers, they jus' jealous you might kill they ghetto girl dreams an' marry ‘miss suburbia' instead; you the most eligible bachelor, so you gotta take the heat.”

The heat of the cell phone on Knight's palm made his heartbeat quicken. Heat was a bad word these days.

“Seems like every woman I meet is in heat,” Knight said, “degrading themselves as they dig for some gold key to my heart.”

“It ain't that deep, brotha,” Gerard said. “'Scuse me.” He punched a red button then shouted into a microphone. “Where the fuck the Barriors on door two?” He frantically scanned the screens. “Y'all tryin' to let any damn fool walk up in here wit' all these executive pussies gettin' they freak on?”

Three Barriors appeared on camera, in front of door two, a fire exit leading to the patio facing the river and marina.

Intuition spoke, loudly and clearly, in Knight's mind.
They're scheming.
They used to be Li'l Tut's boys and were pissed when Knight took charge.

“We here,” one said. “We was just checkin' somethin'out.”

“What?” Gerard demanded. “You s'posed to call it in then check it out. In case somethin' go down.”

“Wasn't nothin',” the Barrior said.

“They out,” Gerard said. “Some heat coulda come creepin' through while they messin' around. Probably suckin' each other's dicks. They out like a mug.”

“Not yet,” Knight said. “Have them followed 'round the clock. Get me their phone and computer records. Search their apartments. The feds is sniffing hard for The Queen and Babylon in general. And Duke's at large. We need to know what we're dealing with.”

“Over and out, boss,” Gerard said.

Knight's phone vibrated once more. His chest tightened. He stared at The Queen as if his eyes could protect her from the violent words recorded inside this tiny device that he refastened to the clip on his belt. He had to save her from those vile threats hissed from the mouth of someone who once loved them both.

Manifest Destiny will save us both. We'll steal away to our own secret heaven before anybody tries to send us to hell.
That was
all
Knight knew for sure. Didn't know how long he'd live. Or how long his empire could evade the heat's radar. Or how long The Queen could defy the FBI by living the glamorous life at Babylon. Or how long it would take his bad-ass brother, Li'l Tut, to resurface and come back to stake his claim on his Duchess and Babylon.

Despite Knight's careful planning, any of the above factors could topple the kingdom in a heartbeat, literally, if Knight's condition were as serious as he feared.

“Show me the back,” Knight said.

Gerard zoomed in on the delivery dock leading down to the marina. Ping and Pong prodded Flame into the back of a white van marked
Feast for Your Eyes,
Babylon's own catering company, which provided food for all its events.

Damn, his phone was blowing up. He glanced down. PRIVATE CALLER flashed on the display. That's what it read when the threat came in. Knight's heart pounded. He had the power. He was unstoppable. But in order to stop this fool, he'd have to wield the ultimate power. And he didn't want to do that to his little brother, no matter what a hot-headed punk Li'l Tut had become.

Knight flipped the phone open. Sirens blared into his ear. Then a male voice quaked, “We gotta talk.”

“Who is this?”

“It's the beginnin' of the end, muthafucka.”

Knight grabbed his BlackBerry from the console. He texted messaged “YELLOW” to the four Barriors, whose job was to watch The Queen at all times, in The Playroom.

On the monitor, she was holding hands with that TV analyst who looked like she wanted The Queen to lick her pussy right there in the middle of the party. But The Queen never mixed business with pleasure. And she never ate pussy unless Knight could watch, in person, and fuck her while she feasted.

Four stars flashed across Knight's cell screen, one at a time. That meant each Barrior got the message and would respond accordingly. No telling where this joker was calling from.

“You decide,” Li'l Tut said. “Give me what's mine, an' e'rybody be cool. Keep fuckin' me an' my Duchess, an' dawn gon' shine on Babylon. Knight gon' be all over an' done wit'.”

Knight's heart ached. Seizing control of Babylon was a business decision, so he could take care of Mama and provide jobs for thousands of young black men and women. “Li'l Tut, let's meet.”

“Midnight. On the boat.”

Knight glanced at his silver Cartier watch which he had bought in New York with The Queen. She wore a matching one, only hers had a pink alligator band and a mother of pearl face surrounded by diamonds. Both had their favorite saying engraved on the back:
LOVE YOU TO THE INFINITY
. A watch, they both agreed, was the intimate symbol of time, of love, of life. Every day, they made sure their watches ticked identically, right down to the second hands.

Now, Knight's watch said 11:45 p.m. He and The Queen had planned to make love tonight on the boat, after the party, which wouldn't end until three. “Check, baby bro'. See you in a quarter.”

Knight slipped his phone back onto his belt then turned to Paul. “I'm makin' a run for a hot minute. I put out a yellow. Any trouble, handle it then call me.”

Paul nodded. “Over and out, boss Knight.”

Knight strode into the back hallway then took the steps, two at a time, up to the next level. In the ammo room, he packed another Glock in his waistband and a fourth one in his boot. That, on top of the one in the holster under his brown leather jacket. His head spun. He got that dizzy feeling again, and his chest felt tight. He leaned over and grasped the edges of a table.
No. I am a warrior. My goddess and I will make our escape and live long and happily. This is just stress
,
my body is strong.

Knight stood up straight and took a deep breath. “Mind over matter,” he whispered as he hurried down the back staircase to meet Li'l Tut.

Duke peered from the cabin door of the fifty-foot Sea Ray. He and his two brothers had bought the top-of-the-line boat, which they christened
Babylon Beauty
across the bow, just before Prince died. Right here on deck, they'd spoken their most intense words of bonding, three black powerbrokers, between the black of the sky and the river.

So now, on this warm Indian summer night in September, on that patch of gray-carpeted plexi glass, and on those gray leather bucket seats, was the best place for Duke to let Knight know.
It's my birthday, and I'm 'bout to get back in the captain's chair. I'm a year older, a year wiser, and I'm takin' Babylon back. Got my team ready for a hostile takeover and I'll fight to the death to get my Duchess back too.

Duke stared up at The Playhouse, the building on the river that he was getting ready to buy when he lost everything. Now Knight had transformed it into “party central.” Lights flickered on the third floor. That meant the Barriors and B'Amazons were delivering all that loot to the vault, which would be transported later to HQ on Babylon Street.

Duke smiled. His inside sympathizers had dollar signs in their eyes and loyalty in their hearts, and were ready to help him make the heist of the century.
One month to The Games, an' I'm gon' win the gold.
Then he could have what was up behind those steamy windows of the top floor.

Timbo throbbed at the thought of diving into that sweet pussy. She was a freak, and Duke needed to tap into her power to take charge.

He stared hard at the top floor, imagining her coming to a window and blowing a kiss down at him. His gaze lowered to the middle windows. “All that money just sittin' there,” he groaned.

On the ground floor, the only activity, took place a few minutes ago, when the doors opened, and Ping and Pong took Flame away in that white catering truck.

That was another of Knight's entrepreneurial endeavors. He wanted to own shit himself, instead of paying other folks, because he always wanted to make all the money himself.

Always
so
smart, that muthafucka.

The deep rumble of a cigarette boat sliced past on the water, causing a sudden wake that rocked
Babylon Beauty.

Duke gripped the doorway to steady himself. “Damn, muthafucka!” he shouted. The boat sped away so quickly, it left only the white fishtail pattern in the water. “Slow the fuck down!” Duke grabbed the wide dashboard to steady himself.

Another boat whizzed past, and the force knocked Duke into the captain's chair.

“Can't even stand up right in this mug,” he exclaimed.

Suddenly, female laughter from a pleasure boat made him grind his teeth. He could feel his jaw muscle flex hard as he watched three lovey-dovey couples smile and cuddle on a sleek blue cabin cruiser. The soft tinkle of jazz, the champagne glasses in their hands, and the black urban professional look about them set off something inside Duke.

Duke glared at one clean cut guy on the boat, who wore a pink polo shirt, plaid shorts, and gold-rimmed glasses. “Preppy-ass muthafuckas. Act like you ain't neva seen the hood.” Duke gripped the steering wheel. Even his fingers were trembling. Just like the rest of his body, from head to toe. All six foot, six inches of his once mighty brawn was shaking in his black Tims, because he was about to do something he'd never done; stand up to his big brother, Knight.

So where the fuck is he?
Duke snatched his cell phone from his waistband. His fingers touched the warm metal butt of his gun. He was ready to rumble, if necessary. He held up the phone. The tiny blue display said eleven fifty-eight. “Oh, shit.”

Knight stepped out of the doors leading to the back patio, which was softly lit by tropical-style torches. They cast a fiery glow around Knight's six foot, seven inches of power.

That made Duke's leg muscles feel as wobbly as the Ramen noodles that kept him alive for much of the past year, that is, when he ate at all during that 365-day hiatus into hell. At least now, his stomach was full of Mama's best pork chops and potatoes. She promised not to tell anybody, especially Knight, that he was living in the room over her garage.

Suddenly Duke's mind reeled with a wicked flash back to that night a year ago when Knight walked out in the middle of his birthday party and announced he was taking over.
And didn't nobody stop him. Including my punk ass.

No wonder Knight looked just as ominous and powerful tonight, striding down the dock like a black cowboy, his big silver belt buckle shimmering with diamond block letters which spelled out
KNIGHT
giving just a hint of that “wild west” machismo.

Duke hated the way Knight walked.
Like he own the whole muthafuckin' planet!
Every step of his long legs and boots radiated with cockiness, confidence, and stealth precision, like he never took one stride without analyzing its impact first.

Duke laid his fingers over the metal bulge under his baggy white tee and jeans.
Analyze this, muthafucka.

Knight's boots thudded on the wooden planks.

Duke's pulse hammered in his ears. He forced himself to focus on the best image of his life him, sitting back in his golden throne ruling the empire with his goddess, Duchess on his lap.

The image faded as Knight came into closer focus.

Duke's muscles trembled harder. He bit the inside of his lip to stop the mile long barrage of verbal bullets that were cocked to shoot and kill. He ground his teeth. The words ricocheted back down into his chest, making his heart pound harder.

No doubt Knight had half an army of Barriors lurking in the shadows, plus his own ammo, strapped on every limb.

Duke concentrated on his vision, so the sight of Knight didn't push all his mad buttons, but when Knight stopped on the dock, right at the stern, Duke felt a tornado ripping through his mind. Could hardly think of a sentence to speak. Could hardly see straight.

Because the way Knight stared down at him, the way his bright, black eyes glowed with brotherly love and affection, for a split second but turned instantly to disgust, revealed that Knight knew. His bigger, badder, more brilliant brother knew exactly where little Duke had been and what unspeakable things he'd been doing for the past twelve months.

That stare was so potent, Duke wanted to cower in self disgust like a beat down dog.
I hate what I did!
Duke's throat swelled with tears. He'd rather die before letting them fall. His tongue felt thick and slimy, his eyes burned as he stared at his brother's clean cut face, with its perfectly healthy, dark chocolate complexion and “good-living” fullness to his cheeks. No chance folks would confuse the two of them now. Not the way Duke's skin was looking these days.

He ground his teeth so loudly, he could hear a cracking sound in his ears. Because the mirror image before him was like looking at a reflection of how he used to be. Now he rarely even looked in the mirror. Even though he'd quit that shit and was living clean, his face, eyes, and body hadn't caught up with him yet.

And the disgust in Knight's eyes pulled the trigger on all those wicked words cocked on Duke's tongue. “It's your fault, muthafucka!” Duke shouted. He shot up from the captain's chair. His boots thudded on the floor as boats roared in the background. “You gon' give me back what's mine! I hate your ass, muthafucka! I hate your ass!”

A boat zoomed past, causing a wake. The waves slapped the side of
Babylon Beauty,
causing Duke to wobble.

Knight stood perfectly still, his big hand on his waist, his eyes radiating pity and disgust.

“I want Babylon!” Duke screamed. His lips felt wet; little bits of spit sprayed into the night as he yelled. “I want Duchess! An' I'm gon' take it!” He knew he was ruining his moment; hysterics would get him nowhere, especially with an always calm, Knight. He was acting like a whacked out crackhead but couldn't stop it. The chemicals, the craziness, that's what was talking.

“You ain't gon' keep me down!” Duke screamed. His head spun so hard, his vision blurred with silvery lights, like just before those horrible migraine headaches came. His tongue felt like it was moving with a mind of its own, and his muscles trembled so hard, it felt like a convulsion would knock him down any second.

Knight just stood there, watching him self destruct.

“You ain't gon' play me like a punk no more!” Duke screamed. His hand slipped into his waistband. He pulled out his gun and aimed it at Knight. His finger spasmed on the hard metal trigger.

Ka-pow! Pow! Pow!
The shots echoed off the black eternity of water and sky. Coldness, darkness, numbness.