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Authors: Shareef Jaudon

B00BNB54RE EBOK

 

 

 

 

 

 

TYCE  IV

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

By

 

 

Shareef jaudon

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Write now books

Denver,
co    los angeles, ca

 

1-1-13  

 

 

 

 

 

TYCE  IV

 

 

 

 

 

 

COPYRIGHT

 

January 2013

 

By

 

Shareef Jaudon

 

Write Now Books

 

L o s  A n g e l e s, C A

D e n v e r, C O

 

 

Text copy written 20
13 by Shareef Jaudon

~Daddy

 

             
I looked across the living room at Khari, who unsteadily walked toward her favorite stuffed Kermit the frog toy that was lying on the couch cushion. My baby was growing up so fast. It seemed like just yesterday I was fainting in the delivery room and almost ten months later, she was walking and getting prettier by the minute. She already had two and a half teeth decorating her tiny mouth, along with a handful of words in her vocabulary that she repeated all day long. My daughter was beautiful. I couldn’t really say if she resembled Angelique or me. Honestly, I could see both of us in her, but on the other hand she had a look all her own with a strong personality as a side dish. We couldn’t blame her; after all she did have two iron willed parents to thank for that attribute.

             
I was spending the afternoon with my child, watching Adam Sandler play a slightly retarded water boy on T.V. I’d never seen the flick before, but I found myself choking on my Corona and trying to hold in my laughter. Angelique was out tending to her sex club business and wouldn’t be back until later that evening. That left plenty of time for Sway and I to have an important conversation.

“Hey bro
, you might need to light an incense in that bathroom.” Sway walked into the living room rubbing his stomach.

I looked up at him with a twisted face, “Yeah
, you were in there long enough. I was ‘bout to put out an Amber Alert for yo ass. Big buff Marine with curly hair, last seen takin’ a shit.”

Sway sat down on
the couch, grabbed his half empty beer and chuckled at my joke.

“I wasn’t in there that long,” h
e defended himself.

“Man the movie is almost over.” I pointed at the big screen.

              Sway waved his hand as if he was swatting away invisible flies. He relaxed in the couch and switched his mood to a more serious one.


Enough about my sensitive stomach.

W
hat about this new nigga…Peck? Do you really think he can handle some shit like this? He’s kind of young. This ain’t no 7-Eleven stick up job we talkin ‘bout.”

I reached for my own beer as I weighed his
question. He had a right to be leery. Shit, I was too, but I had a good feeling about Peck. He was a white boy who really had heart and according to Lil Flash’s older brother Sim, he was trustworthy as well. Plus, he didn’t take shit from anybody, and that was one thing we both had in common.

“I think he’ll be fine man. We need at least three of us to pull this off. I can’t t
hink of anybody else we can get. Los Angeles has a shortage of real niggas these days. If you ain’t heard, we’re in a recession.”

             
Sway shook his head in amusement at my accurate account. The fact was that trying to find street certified hard, down niggas with their boots laced up tightly was like trying to find an honest crack head. Sure, everybody talked the talk, but not enough actually meant what they said.


Look Tyce, I appreciate you doin’ this. I know you don’t really need the money.” Sway looked at me seriously.

“Rewind that back playa. Did you say I don’t
really need the money?” I scooted to the edge of my couch.

“Yeah.”

“Man, let me tell you somethin’, until I can sail to an island and pay cash for it, I don’t have enough money. I want Khari’s kids to be rich in this bitch. I wanna have so much money that if I spread it all out it would look like a damn golf course!”

Sway cracked a wide grin.
“That picture looks good man.”

“And I
want the same thing for you. I wanna see you win. I don’t have best friends hanging all off my shoulders and shit. I got niggas I ride with and niggas that ride with me, but that’s a short ass list and your name is at the top.”

My
friend nodded his head slowly. “That’s solid man. No homo shit, but I feel the same way about you.”

We gave each other customary hood handshakes
to seal the brotherly love portion of the conversation as Khari rested her cute little head on my knee.

“How are things with you and Ranae? D
oes she know what’s up?” I placed Khari on my lap.

“We
’re good. That last five hundred thousand we got from that punk ass D.A. was like lubricant for our marriage.” Sway chuckled lightly. “That kept her spending the way she’s gotten used to and that means she’s happy. As far as the job, I only told her we were workin’ on somethin’ and she hasn’t pressed me about it.”

“Good, Ranae ain
’t all nosey like some women. I hear niggas complain all day long at the barber shop about how their women be all up in their business askin’ fifty thousand questions and shit. I had to school those Special Ed fools the other day. I told ‘em if you stop answering the questions they’ll stop askin’ em.”

“True.” Sway cosigned.

I continued my rant, “Niggas ride shotgun way too damn much these days. A woman doesn’t want a man she can control. She wants a man to be a man and lead the way. Now if the nigga don’t know where the fuck he’s goin’, that’s when shit gets backwards and she has to take over. Believe me, a woman is more than happy to ride if the ride is smooth…you feel me?”

Sway took a
sip from his beer. “I feel you on that. Men are pussyfied nowadays. I was jus’ in the mall the other day with Ranae when I saw some nigga with his wife’s purse hangin’ off
his
shoulder while she tried on some clothes in the dressing room! Then when he saw me lookin’ at him, he tried to act all hard and say what’s up with a lil’ too much bass in his voice.”

I laughed at Sway’s facial expression as he tried to mimic the purse snatcher
’s demeanor.

“Shit, his wife was probably trying on
a cling tight dress for her side nigga to rip off her right before he cracks open her legs.” I smiled.


Hell yeah, her boo thang gets to enjoy the dress that her husband paid for!” Sway slapped his own knee.

I kept the revelation goin
g. “See shotgun niggas have early ass curfews,
if
she even lets him hang out wit’ his homeboys. They’re sexually constipated and they only get that happy birthday blow job once a year. Do you know why the side dick gets all the pussy, all the head, the passion and all the skin squeezin’ outfits from the mall?”

I raised my eyebrows
at my own question, which Sway and I answered in unison.


CUZ PUSSY NIGGAS HOLD PURSES!” We shouted.

Khari looked
up at me, then over at her God father and smiled as she clapped her chubby little hands at the end of our Sunday afternoon sermon.

~Busy Body

 

“Trina can you get me the door receipts for the 70’s party last Friday?”

“Sure thing, just give me a secon
d. Oh, after you look them over you may want to have a talk with Bobby. I caught him having sex in the bathroom last night with one of the customers.”

I looked up from my desk at my manager. “Who was he fuckin’?”

“Mrs. Bishop.”

“The librarian?” I asked shocked.

“One in the same, I guess she craved young dick that night.”

“Yeah
, but he knows better than to fraternize with the customers no matter what she was craving. What did you do when you caught him?”

Trina folded her arms across her
small chest. “I sent him home and told him I would be letting you know what happened.”

“Hmmm, I’ll deal with him before I leave tonight
. Thanks Trina.”

“No problem, I’ll go get those receipts. I haven’t added them
up yet, but the place was packed wall to wall, so I assume it was a very profitable night. Your idea of the cock sucking booth was really a hit. You should’ve seen all the men lined up to get their twenty dollar sixty second suck. Destiny did a really good job. She and Bambi worked the booth together and there was over fifteen hundred in the tip jar when they shut it down,” Trina happily reported.

“Did you take out the house cut?” I calculated the figures in my head.

“Yep. It came to a little under five hundred dollars. The girls walked away with five hundred and thirty dollars each. Not bad for two hours work I’d say.”

I agreed.
“Not bad at all. I think we should do that at least twice a month. I’ll get one more girl on standby jus’ in case we need her.”

Trina’s green eyes flashed with approval. “That’s a good idea
, because I think we will.” Trina promptly left my office.

             
Business was certainly picking up over the last ten months. My swingers clubs were quickly becoming the most popular places for people in the lifestyle to party and I planned to keep it that way. Things had finally calmed down in my life for me to concentrate on my own shit. Dallas was gone and that gave me a much needed vacation from Dramaville. My little munchkin was growing up strong and healthy and I still had the sexiest man on the west coast all to myself.

             
That’s was how I was supposed to be living. I had my freedom back, money in the bank, defeated my enemy and was a proud new mommy. As I looked down at my brown hand resting on my desk, I felt the pang of emptiness poke at my heart. It was a familiar feeling that crept up from time to time, but lately the vacant feeling seemed to pop up more and more. Why was I feeling that way? I had so much, so why was I feeling so empty?

             
I gazed once again at my left hand narrowing my focus on my bare ring finger. I had millions of dollars, and a successful business; however the one thing that was missing I could not buy for myself. He had to purchase that for me. It would be meaningless if I bought my own ring. What the fuck good would that do? Why did I even want to get married? The leading cause of divorce was marriage. Sixty percent of marriages failed the test of time, so what idiot would bet their life with a forty percent chance of winning?

             
I sighed to myself as I tried to smother the annoying emotions fidgeting inside my chest. Love was enough right? Wedding ceremonies were overrated right? Just because I didn’t have a diamond ring on my finger didn’t mean that my relationship wasn’t good right? Maybe I was feeling that way because the sun was setting on my twenties, or maybe I was just greedy. Maybe my heart was hungry for something more. Maybe me and Mrs. Bishop had cravings in common, although not exactly identical ones. Her thing was that she longed for young fresh dick in her life, while I wanted and longed to be Tyce’s wife.

~
Peck

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