Coldhearted & Crazy (11 page)

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Authors: Michel Moore

BOOK: Coldhearted & Crazy
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Stone

Not more than ten minutes after Tastey bravely boarded the airplane heading to Dallas did her once-incarcerated uncle arrive back in the city after miraculously making parole. Young Foy, out in the streets checking his traps, saw Stone on the block as soon as his woman drove up to their house, and immediately stepped to him.

“Stone, my dude! What's good, God? When you touch down?” Young Foy gave his former bunkie some love while Stone's woman opened the trunk, grabbing the bag with her man's personal property in it.

“Just now. You know they can't hold a real hood warrior down. As hard as the white man put his foot down on my neck, the stronger I get.” Stone stuck his chest out with pride, beating his clenched fist on his heart. “Real talk, I'm gonna go up in the crib, get some grub, take a bath, and hit these streets running.” Stone headed up toward the door, focused on revenge. “I'll holler at you later. Oh yeah, and good looking on delivering that message to Zack for me. That was right on time.”

“You know how we do, nigga! We family first and foremost! And if you need a li'l something in your pocket, I ain't got much, but you always welcome to half of whatever!”

“That's real, young blood, but I'm set. I'm 'bout to hit off some paper in a few! So, I'll holler!”

Young Foy looked at Stone's girl's ass swaying up the stairs behind Stone, and thought,
Fuck hittin' the streets. I'd be hittin' that ass!

When Young Foy got to Heads Up to start his shift, annoyed, he saw Zack and Raven plotting over in a dark corner of the club. Young Foy, usually a player, had been spending a lot of time with Raven ever since he'd started working there. Surrounded by half-naked women nightly, he started kicking game to the single parent dancer, after he realized that he couldn't have Tastey. Raven, impressionable and loyal, was deeply in love with Young Foy; but he, on the other hand, wasn't exactly sure where his heart was truly at. Used to being classified as a dog, he was brand new when it came to the love game in general. All he knew for sure was music, slinging dope, and hustling; anything else was foreign.

“Hey now, Zack, what's the deal this evening, guy?”

Noticeably, his boss had a worried expression on his face. “Nothing, Young Foy, just seeing if Raven can text message Tastey for me about something.” Without question, he was going to give himself a heart attack waiting to hear from his drug mule.

“Dig that,” Young Foy responded, feeling uneasy about Zack being so cozy with his girl, boss or not.

Zack, having got Raven to text, then excused himself. “Well, let me go to my office. I have some things to take care of. I'll see you two in a minute.” As Zack turned to walk away, Young Foy unknowingly threw some salt in the game, asking him if he was going to block off a VIP section for his old friend Stone.

Dry mouthed, Zack quickly turned white as a ghost. “What you mean, block off for Stone?” He was sweating bullets, waiting for Young Foy to answer the question.

“Come on, dude. I know you knew your man was coming home, didn't you?” Young Foy gave him a strange look, wondering why Zack was acting so shocked.

Zack tried to play it off, not wanting to seem like he was out the loop as he pumped him for information on the sly. “Yeah, um, I did. Have you heard from him yet?”

“Yeah, actually, I just ran into him and his girl around the way. He was just touching down.”

When Zack heard that Stone was released from prison, his heart started to pound extra fast. Interrupting their conversation, his cell phone then suddenly started to ring and scared the shit out of him. He looked at the screen and ran up to his office to take the call.

“Damn, what's up with that?” Raven asked Young Foy as she kissed him softly on the lips.

“I don't know what's up with his ass. That guy been bugging out for the past few weeks now.” Raven and Young Foy laughed together as Zack entered his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Tastey

“Hey, Zack, I'm here! What took you so long to answer the phone?” Tastey was kicking her shoes off, getting ready to take a long bath and relax her nerves.

“I was down in the club handling some business. Is everything okay your way? Did you have any problems? Are you at the hotel?” Zack quizzed her as if he was conditioning a full-scale interrogation.

Tastey was not trying to get stressed the fuck out by his worrying and overthinking shit. “Listen, I'm here in the hotel. It's room 1369 and I'm tight!”

Zack had to think quickly, considering the bad news that Young Foy had just given him. Naturally he didn't want Tastey to come back to town with all his money in tow and Stone was out walking the streets, possibly running into her before he had a chance to explain his side of what happened to her parents that God-awful night. Zack was confused, to say the least, knowing damn well it was just a matter of time before Stone, who was out for blood, would be paying him a visit. “Dig this here, Tastey. It's been a slight change in plans. My boys Deacon and Storm have to hustle up on a little bit more loot. So I need you to chill in Dallas one more day, on my pockets, of course. As soon as they get their situation together, you and them can bump heads. Oh, and by the way, I don't want you to call me anymore until you three meet. I don't want any phone traces back here from the police or something. The next call you should get will be from one of them; Deacon or Storm.” Zack had to buy himself some time to try to reason with Stone, and keeping his niece under wraps would have to do for now.

“All right, Zack, not a problem. I guess I could go to the mall or catch a movie. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. I'm good. I'll wait for the call and take care of that. Talk to you in a few days.” Tastey hung up the phone and placed it on her charger. Happy to spend on someone else's tab, she ran her bathwater and took out an outfit to wear to the mall.

Zack called Brother Rasul up to the office, informing him that he wanted extra security in the club for the next few days.

Brother Rasul, sensing his crooked boss and friend had once again dug himself deep into a twisted weave of bullshit, suspiciously rubbed his chin. “All right then, but what's wrong? I can tell you've been acting strange the last couple of weeks or so.”

“Listen, Ra, you been with me since I first opened these doors. You already know I trust you with my life, so I got you. Just let me try to figure a few things out and I'll fill you in later. For now, just beef shit up a little—quick.”

Zack knew Ra was his boy and would be up on top of having his back; he always was. Brother Rasul was probably Zack's only true friend he had left in the world, even though he didn't deserve his friendship or loyalty. Zack put on a good front, but he was a real snake, low-key, and everyone who came in contact with him knew it.

Chapter Thirteen
Brace Up

Tastey awoke from the nap that she had taken when she got out the tub. Slipping on a soft pink sundress and a pair of sandals that showed off her perfectly polished toes, she stashed the bag containing the dope and pulled the door closed, hanging a
DO NOT DISTURB
sign. After stepping off the elevator, she made her way through the lobby feeling like she had life by the tail. All the men turned their heads to watch her ass bounce from side to side with each step. The cab ride was interesting, as she saw a lot of different sights. Dallas was a lot different from Detroit. Being in a brand-new environment made Kenya yearn for a change in her own.

As she entered the mall, the air conditioning in the building was on full blast and you could see her hardened nipples poking through the thin cloth of her dress. A seasoned veteran in shopping, Kenya went in and out of all of the stores in the mall and was soon loaded down with all sorts of bags. She had everything from True Religion, Prada, and Gucci to Armani and Ralph Lauren. Strolling like she owned the world, the diva born and raised in Detroit felt like she was reenacting a scene straight out of the movie
Pretty Woman.
Going into the Versace boutique, normally aware of her surroundings, she didn't notice two guys on the men's side of the shop staring at her. The brown-skinned taller man of the two was mesmerized by her swag.

Kenya took her time browsing through the rack and saw a navy blue suit that was calling her name. She struggled with her bags as she held the outfit up to her body, staring into a floor-length crystal-framed mirror.

“Hello, miss, I'm Nyasha. Would you like to try that on?” The saleslady was very polite and wanted nothing more than to make a commission on the sale of a $950 suit.

“Yes, please.” Tastey gave the salesgirl her other bags to put out of the way and entered the dressing room. After carefully fastening the buttons and zipping up the skirt, she exited the fitting room, hoping for a reaction. Once again, all eyes were on Kenya just as she thought. The two guys who had been watching her were both in awe, as well as several other customers.

“Wow, it fits you perfectly. Not everyone has the body shape to pull this suit off like you do.” Nyasha wanted to make the sale and nine out of ten times would lie to make it, but this time it was no lie. Kenya was killing it in the suit.

“It is pretty, isn't it?” Tastey turned around in the mirror several times before returning into the fitting room to change back into her sundress. After looking at the price tag and realizing that it was way too much to pay for an outfit that she'd probably never get to wear, she felt sad. It was too much of a classy outfit for her lifestyle. Hesitantly, she handed it to the saleslady over the shuttered door to restock, and finished getting dressed. Making her way back up to the counter to get her other bags and thank the lady for being so helpful, all of a sudden the saleswoman asked her to sign the receipt.

“What are you talking about? I'm sorry. I'm not going to buy the suit today,” Kenya insisted, throwing her hand up. The saleslady giggled as she saw one of the guys who were watching her customer approach them.

“You don't have to buy it, pretty lady. I already purchased it for you!” the handsome guy boldly interrupted.

Kenya, knowing you could never get something for nothing, was in shock and of course suspicious of his motives. “I'm sorry but you don't even know me. Why would you do something so random like that? What's the catch?”

“Well, I can easily fix that. My name is Tony Christian.” He reached out his hand to shake hers. “And it ain't no catch. I just wanted you to have it! Is it wrong for a man to give a woman a gift? Is that a crime?”

It was then when she noticed his iced-out watch and ring. He had a linen outfit on and gator sandals to match. By the way the generous man's clothes fit, it looked like he worked out every single day. Kenya was in a daze staring at him. She shook herself together and took his hand. “Hello, my name is . . . Kenya.” She decided that this wasn't the club, so all that “Tastey” shit could be ceased for the time being.

“Listen, can we go have lunch and talk for a while? I noticed that you didn't have a ring on your finger.”

Kenya was impressed with his smooth demeanor. “Yeah, I guess so. I am kinda hungry,” she blushingly accepted the invitation.

Tony helped Kenya with her bags, including her new suit, and the two left the store. He signaled for his boy to come over to where he and Kenya were standing. “Kenya, this is my little brother O.T.” After Tony made the introductions, they all walked toward the food court. He couldn't take his eyes off her. “I would take you somewhere a little bit more upscale, but I know you might feel a little somewhat uneasy, seeing how we just met and all.” Storm was used to going first class or not going at all. He knew if given a chance he would really take Kenya out on the town and floss.

They talked for almost an hour before O.T. excused himself and left. He made sure to tell his brother to call him later because they had a meeting to attend. O.T. liked Kenya, she seemed cool, but he knew his brother was acting all in. O.T. could tell by the look in his eyes that he wasn't going to let this female go. Shit, besides, Mr. Christian was already $950 in the hole being a cake.

“So listen, can I take you out for a real meal tonight?” Storm knew he was pressing his luck, but he felt like he'd known her forever.

Kenya, strange as it seemed, had the same vibe about him. She had flown to Dallas for strictly business, but in a matter of minutes, it got extremely personal. “Well, I think that can be arranged. After all, you are the only person I know in town.” Kenya told him a quick lie and led him to believe that she was in town to interview for a job.

Tony's cell phone kept ringing. “I'm sorry, Kenya. I have an important meeting to attend and I can't be late. Can I drop you off at your hotel? You have my word, I don't bite.” He smiled and melted her young soul.

They gathered the bags and made their way through the mall and over to the valet entrance. Tony handed the guy his ticket, as he and Kenya both stared into one another's eyes until the valet attendant pulled up with his car.

“This us, ma!” He put her bags in the back seat and like a real gentleman he held the door open for Kenya.

“Damn, what the fuck?” she whispered softly under her breath. “This nigga pushing a Benz CLK55, buying $950 hookups, and buying a bitch dinner later, this guy is straight up ballin'!”

After a short ride, she was in front of the hotel. Tony pulled out a big knot of money and peeled off a twenty, paying the doorman to make sure that all of Kenya's bags were taken up to her room. He then smoothly leaned over, opened the glove compartment, and pulled out a card. “Take this number and call me when you get ready.”

Kenya scooted over and kissed him on his cheek like some old junior high bullshit. “Thanks again for the outfit.”

“Don't thank me, just do the right thing and call me!” He winked his eye, blowing her a kiss.

As she walked away Kenya made sure to put a little bit extra in the way she moved her hips.

Damn, I got to have her!
His dick immediately got hard as he drove away caught up in his emotions.

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