Fistful of Benjamins (2 page)

“E
xcuse me, mister, can you get the dog, so I can bring the mail in?” I called up to the tall, bald, fat Deebo look-alike standing in the doorway of an old, decrepit house on my mail route. The man just grunted like I hadn't even spoken to him. The dog was standing on high alert, tail stiff as shit, eyes focused in on me, like he knew he was going to eat my damn heart right out of my chest. That huge beast of a dog was just waiting for me to open the chain-link gate. I wasn't that stupid. I had been a mail carrier for two years and I already had been bitten by two dogs. I wasn't trying for a third time. I squinted my eyes at the ugly-ass man and tapped my foot impatiently.

“Mister, I am going to ask you again to get the dog or else I'll be forced to return the mail and tell them it was undeliverable,” I said as calm and as nice as I could. I really wanted to curse his black ass out.

“He ain't gonna bother you,” the man grumbled. “Don't be such a pussy, drama queen. If you take my mail back I'll report you to your supervisor.”

It was like someone had splashed me with cold water. I couldn't believe he had just said that shit to me. I was gearing up to curse him out and throw his mail into his yard, when someone approached from across the street. I turned my head because I could see the guy coming toward me from my peripheral vision.

“Yo, Brock. Why your miserable ass giving this beautiful mail lady a hard fucking time? Just take that stupid-ass mutt, that fake-ass Rottweiler, inside that dirty-ass shack you call a house and let her deliver the mail. You ain't getting shit important in the mail, no way. It ain't the first of the month,” a gorgeous guy called out as he walked up to where I was standing. I had to turn all the way around to face the guy and he was surely a sight to see. I couldn't stop staring at him. He had the most beautiful face I had ever seen on a man and forget about his swag—it was on one thousand. He was about six feet tall with the smoothest, most perfect cinnamon complexion I'd ever seen. He had a headful of tight, dark curls hugging his scalp that were cut neatly with a fresh line-up making him look clean-cut and sharp. His goatee was also perfectly trimmed and it accented his full, smooth lips. It was his eyes that were the most striking. They were a cross between hazel and green and the shape was hard to describe, but piercing nonetheless. I was stuck on stupid looking at this dude. He was definitely movie-star quality. I suddenly felt a bit shy and awkward. I knew that my U.S. Postal Service uniform didn't do much for my shape and I didn't have on one ounce of makeup that day. I guess that's what I got for rushing out of the house that morning.

“Thank you,” I said, blushing like crazy. The guy grabbed the mail from me as the big, ugly dummy inside the gate took his dog inside.

“Don't worry about Brock . . . he's all bark and no ass bite. Give me the stuff, I ain't scared of that big-for-nothing nigga. I'll take the mail up there for you today,” the gorgeous guy said, smiling. Damn! His smile was a woman-killer. I was standing there in shock, gushing like a teenage girl who'd just gotten spoken to by her first crush. I couldn't help my eyes from batting like a damn coquettish cartoon character. The gorgeous guy took the mail and tossed it on the steps inside the gate. He came back out to where I was standing and smiled again. Those eyes, those thick lips and perfect teeth were more than I could stand. I knew right at that moment that I wanted to be with this dude in the worst way.

“I'm Eduardo, but my friends call me Eddie,” he said, extending his hand toward me. My heart sped up, but in a good way.

“Gabriella,” I said, almost whispering. I gave him my hand and thought he'd shake it. Instead, he took it and kissed the top of it. Oh, he was laying it on thick. I swear I almost wet my damn panties. I couldn't even look him directly in the eye, which was a sign that I was feeling him. I looked across the street, trying to see where he'd come from, but there were nothing but abandoned buildings over there. I looked back at Eduardo, not in his eyes, but at his clothes. He was dressed sharply in a pair of neat, slim-fitting True Religion jeans, a Gucci T-shirt, and a pair of Giuseppe Zanotti sneakers. He was too well dressed to be living in an abandoned house. So where had he come from? Strange. Yet, I wanted to know more. I was definitely intrigued.

“Can I call you sometime, Gabriella?” Eduardo asked me, snapping me out of my little daydream. “I think you're beautiful.” I thought he would never ask. I almost fainted when he said that I was beautiful. Don't get me wrong; he was fine as shit, but I wasn't so shabby myself. I was a thick-in-the-right-places type of chick with round hips, plump ass, and medium, but perfect, tits. I stood five feet, five inches, I was the color of melted butter, and my skin was blemish-free. My features were typically Puerto Rican—dark, straight black hair that curled up nicely when wet, dark brown, deep-set round eyes, small heart-shaped lips and nice teeth. That day, I had my hair wet and curly, which usually always had dudes on my mail routes trying to holla at me. Trust me, I usually ignored them all, but this was different. Even though I had no makeup on, Eduardo had told me he thought I was beautiful.

“Oh . . . um . . . sure. Thanks again for helping me out. It's so crazy delivering mail around here. All of the houses looked run-down and all of the people have big dogs that they never want to put on a leash or anything,” I said, laughing awkwardly as I scribbled down my number.

“Yeah, all these niggas waiting on is SSI checks and letters from the welfare telling them when their next load of food stamps gonna be on their EBT cards. Lowlife shit around here. I would be scared to even deliver mail around this bitch,” Eduardo agreed with me. I was smiling all goofy because I had been taking quick peeks at his lips. He was really gorgeous. I couldn't say that to myself enough.

“Well, I have to go. I hope to hear from you,” I said, flirting as hard as I could. Truthfully, I could've spent the rest of my workday standing right there talking to him.

“Oh, you'll hear from me baby girl, don't worry,” Eduardo said as he turned to walk back across the street. I had an extra pep in my step the rest of that day.

“Y
es! Yes! Fuck me! Harder! Don't stop! Don't ever stop!” I screamed as I dug my nails deep into the skin on Eduardo's back. The more I screamed, the faster and harder he slid his thickness in and out of my dripping wet pussy.

It had been two weeks since our first meeting on my mail route. I usually didn't fuck dudes this fast, but he was just too fine and too smooth to pass it up. He had taken me to three or four nice dinners, brought me flowers, and fucked me right in that short time. I couldn't front, I was being like one of those chicks I always talked about back in high school—sprung off of good dick and nice clothes. I didn't care, either. After all I had been through my with baby daddy, Eduardo was like a breath of fresh air in my life.

“Whose pussy is this? Tell me before I take the dick away,” Eduardo huffed into my ear. I guess thinking back, it was a strange question and threat for a new dude to ask a girl he hardly knew, but at that moment I couldn't even think about that.

“Yours! It's your pussy, Eddie! Yours forever!” I screeched like a bubbleheaded bimbo as he plowed harder into my pelvis. I knew my ass was sprung for sure after that. Eduardo had the best dick I had ever had and he used it expertly. I was screaming from my third orgasm within minutes. That was unheard of when most of the time during sex I'd hardly ever had even one.

Eduardo busted his nut and he rolled over next to me. “Damn, girl, you got that good stuff,” he panted. I smiled as I watched his muscular chest heave up and down. This was definitely the start of something good.

“Your shit ain't so bad either,” I said sweetly, reaching over and rubbing my hand on his tight muscles. He laughed.

“Oh, now you giving me a half-ass compliment,” he joked. I moved closer to him and laid my head on his chest. I closed my eyes, but not for long.

Eduardo's phone started ringing on the hotel-room nightstand and interrupted our moment. All of a sudden a bad feeling came over me as he pushed me aside, jumped up, looked at the phone, and grabbed it like he was in a panic. I screwed my face up as I eyed him evilly. He shot me a worried look and then he raced into the bathroom with the phone. I pouted right away. He obviously didn't want me to know who he was receiving that call from. It was the same story with these niggas. They always had mad secrets. Maybe I was the dumb one. I was there fucking him like he was my man, yet I still didn't know if Eduardo had a girlfriend or anything. I just knew I wanted him to be mine so badly I would've done anything.

I stayed in the bed, thinking that my mother was going to kill me for staying out and not calling her. She had already been complaining that I had been basically neglecting my son for the two weeks I'd spent with Eduardo. I wasn't ready at that time for Eduardo to meet my mother and my son, Andrew. Not until I was sure I was going to really be with him. It was all too much to think about.

I went to grab my cell to call my mother, but Eduardo's voice getting louder and louder in the bathroom had gotten my attention. I listened. I wanted to know who he was talking to like that. It sounded kind of serious, so I moved to the edge of the bed so I could listen.

“What you mean, that nigga got caught? How the fuck did he do that? With all the shit? Do you know what that's going to cost Lance? Cost me, for that matter?” Eduardo yelled at whomever he was talking to on the phone. I was all ears after I heard that. I was glad it didn't sound like a chick he was talking to, but I was also being nosy, since I didn't know a lot about Eduardo and his dealings. I immediately forgot about calling my mother and my son.

“So how we gon' get the fucking packages now? We can't be without a re-up for more than a few hours or our shit will dry up like an old lady's pussy. Lance will be breathing down my fucking neck if he don't get his returns! If he don't get paid, nigga . . . we don't get paid. It's that simple. We have to come up with another way or this shit ain't gonna end good for nobody. I ain't trying to starve—are you?” Eduardo yelled some more. My eyebrows were furrowed in confusion. I got up from the bed and moved closer to the bathroom door, now more interested than ever. Eduardo had been really evasive about what he did for a living and where he lived. I had already figured out that him being near those abandoned buildings the day we met hadn't been a coincidence. Everyone in the Tidewater area knew those buildings were trap houses, including me. In the few weeks I had been spending time with Eduardo, I had already come to the conclusion he was a hustling dude. After my baby daddy I said I wouldn't fuck with any more hustlers, I guess I lied to myself. There was something so attractive about that little bit of danger these dudes possessed that turned me on. I finally heard Eduardo getting ready to hang up so I raced back over to the bed, jumped under the covers and struck a sexy pose. I was hoping he would lay that good dick on me one more time.

“Everything okay?” I asked when Eduardo finally came out of the bathroom. He looked pissed. His jaw was rocking feverishly and his nostrils were flaring open and closed. His face was even a different color, I guess from the blood rushing to it while he was yelling.

“We gotta go. Get dressed,” Eduardo snapped, being real short.

I felt my heart sink inside of my chest. I didn't want to leave just yet. I wanted to make things better, make him feel better. I had heard his entire conversation and for some reason, I don't know what came over me, but I blurted out, “I think I can help you out.”

Eduardo was in the process of putting his pants on when I said it. He paused and looked at me strangely.

My face was serious. I was dead serious. “I know a way that I can help you,” I said again. I didn't care if I was being too pushy, I needed this man to want me around. Period.

“Whatcha' talking about, shorty? You don't even know what's up,” Eduardo said dismissively.

“It's not that hard to figure out,” I said, a little more sternly than I had spoken to him before. He rolled his eyes and continued getting dressed.

“I can get your packages delivered without the risk of using a human mule. As you can see, using those street dudes never works, because they brag, they talk, and the narcos always find out,” I said, laying it all out there. Eduardo looked at me with raised eyebrows.

I smirked. “I'm not stupid, Eduardo. I know what you were talking about in there. All I want to do is help out. I really like you and it wouldn't hurt me to have some extra cash for getting it done. It's easy . . . I'm a mail carrier, remember? I would be the one getting everything delivered,” I said, continuing to put all of my shit out there on the table. I had done it once or twice for my baby daddy with a couple of weed packages he had come in from Brooklyn. So, it wasn't really a fresh new idea that I had come up with on my own, but that's how I presented it. I wasn't scared to do it, because all of the people who worked in the sorting and weighing area were my friends. The dude Carlos who did the sort for my bundles was basically in love with me and would do whatever I asked anyway.

“Whatcha' mean, get them delivered?” Eduardo finally said, looking at me seriously.

“Just what I said, easy as that. Have your people send the packages a certain way. Make sure they use other items to cover up the scent . . . I hear coffee beans work good on weed. I'll identify the packages. Have someone I know sort, weigh, and scan the packages and I will be the one dropping them off on my route to your addresses. Simple as that,” I explained.

“Why, though? Why would you risk it?” Eduardo asked suspiciously.

“The same reason you do what you do: money. And for real, because I like you a lot too,” I said honestly, lowering my eyes bashfully. I hated to admit my feelings to him so soon, but what else was I going to say? It couldn't all be just about money, although in my mind at that time, money was my first priority.

“Damn, baby girl. I guess that's as real as it gets. I'm feeling that,” Eduardo said, coming over and grabbing me into a huge bear hug. I melted against him, feeling wanted and accepted. That was the start of our thing and I was all in from day one as long as we kept things simple. But, of course, nothing ever stays simple.