Authors: Treasure Hernandez

Obsession (2 page)

BOOK: Obsession

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Lucky pulled up in front of Quick's house and placed the car in park. “You sure you ready to go in right now.” He laughed.

“Yeah, I gotta go face the music.” Quick gave Lucky a pound and slid out the car. “I'll holla at you tomorrow,” he yelled over his shoulder as he walked up to his apartment. He took a deep breath, as he stuck his key inside the lock and opened the front door.

As soon as Quick closed the door behind him, Kat came storming out the room.

“Where the fuck you been all night?” she asked, rolling her eyes and placing her hand on her hips.

“What you mean, where I was at?” Quick asked with his face crumbled up. “I was out doing what I do.”

“Doing what you do?” Kat echoed. “And what's that? Playing house with ya other bitches?”

Quick sighed loudly as he tried his best to ignore her. He walked over to the kitchen and opened up the refrigerator.

Kat roughly grabbed the back of his shirt. “Don't turn your back on me while I'm talking to you!”

“Bitch!” Quick snapped. His hands shot out, grabbing Kat's bra as he shoved her back up against the refrigerator. “Stop acting stupid all the time!” he huffed. “I been out tryin'a get this money like I do every day, and you know that.”

Kat, wearing nothing but a gold thong with the matching bra, stood hemmed up against the refrigerator. “Take your muthafuckin' hands off of me right now!”

Quick let go of Kat's bra and headed to the bedroom. He knew, as soon as he stepped through the door, it was going to be drama. He tried his hardest to prepare for it, but it was totally different when up close and in person. He entered the bedroom and removed his shirt.

“What you think you doing?” Kat asked, entering the room behind him.

“I'm about to go to sleep. I hate when you act like this.”

“I'm sorry, baby,” Kat said in her baby voice. “But I just be so jealous.”

“For what?” Quick asked. “All I do is bust my ass tryin'a get this money up for us, and as soon as I come home every night, you swear I been with another bitch all night. I'm tired of this shit!”

“I'm sorry, baby. I swear it won't happen again,” Kat promised, like she did every time she acted foolish. “You know I just be missing you.”

“We about to be straight though,” Quick told her. “I got this little plan, so in about two weeks we going to be straight. But I can't have you on my back like this all the time.”

“I'm sorry, baby. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Kat said, looking in Quick's eyes as she unbuckled his belt and slid his jeans down.

Quick didn't really want to have sex with Kat, but he couldn't turn down head or sex from Kat, which were both on point to the max.

Kat slid down to her knees as she took Quick in her mouth slowly. She lubricated his dick with her saliva as she began jerking it and sucking on it at the same time, going faster and faster. She hummed and moaned loudly as she performed.

After about ten minutes of sucking, she climbed on top of the bed on all fours and looked back at Quick, and motioned with her finger for him to follow her.

Quick climbed up on the bed and entered Kat from behind. Kat moaned when she felt him enter her walls. With each stroke he delivered, she made sure to throw it back as hard as she could.

After twenty minutes of hard sex, Quick finally pulled out and exploded all over Kat's ass. “Damn!” Quick exhaled as he lay butt naked on the bed.

Kat quickly went to the bathroom to clean herself off. She was returning from the bathroom carrying a wash rag to could clean Quick up, when she heard his cell phone ring.

Kat's smile quickly turned into a frown. “Damn! You just got in the fuckin' house!” She huffed. “Why you ain't answering your phone? It must be one of your bitches!” Kat tossed the wet rag at Quick's face.

Quick moved the rag from his face and answered his phone. He spoke briefly then hung it up. Then he began to get dressed.

“Where the fuck you think you going?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. “So what? Your next bitch call, and you jump up running?”

“Fuck is you talking about?” Quick said in an aggravated tone. “I have to go make a run real quick.”

Kat sucked her teeth. “You must think I'm a fool.”

Quick was getting ready to snap, but he held it together, as he put his hoodie back on, followed by his vest. He grabbed a few ounces of weed then headed for the door.

“Quick, if you walk out that door, I swear, you better not come back.” Kat was sick of being stuck in the house all the time by herself, and she was definitely sick of Quick and his lies.

“I'll be right back,” Quick yelled over his shoulder.

“Well, you better take yo' shit with you, and I'm not playing either,” Kat said, anger all in her tone and body language.

Quick just shook his head as he exited the apartment. He didn't care what Kat said. He was going to get that money.

After Quick made the drop-off, he headed back to his apartment, only to find all his shit sprawled all over the front stoop. He quickly searched through the bags until he found his weed stash. He quickly stuck the seven pounds of weed in a duffel bag and left all the other items right there on the stoop. He tossed the duffel bag in the backseat of his own hooptie, deciding he might as well start tailing Frank a little sooner than he'd planned.

“Being A Fool”

Tiffany looked down at her watch as she stepped off the bus. She only had five minutes to be home. After what happened the other night, she definitely wasn't trying to be late. So she began to jog home. She felt dumb as hell, jogging home, but it was either jog, or get her ass beat, and she was tired of getting her ass beat. So jogging it was.

She reached the lobby and caught her breath while she waited for the elevator, her lungs about to explode out her chest. She hopped on the elevator, pressed her floor, then glanced down at her watch. She had made it home on time with two minutes to spare. She hopped off the elevator and saw some light-skin chick with a long weave and bamboo earrings exiting her apartment.

“Girl, hold that elevator,” the light-skin girl said as she rushed to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

Tiffany looked at the light-skin girl run past her, but she had to make sure she wasn't seeing things. She continued on down the hallway until she reached her front door.

She walked inside the apartment and spotted Blake sitting on the couch with no shirt on, sparking up a blunt. Immediately the smell of sex filled her nostrils.

“What was that girl doing up in here? And where is your shirt?” Tiffany said, feeling herself about to cry.

“Fuck is you talking about?” Blake said in a disinterested tone, as he rested his legs on the coffee table.

“Who was that girl that just left up out of our house?” Tiffany asked again with more bass in her voice this time.

“I don't know what you talking about,” Blake said with a straight face. “Glad you decided to make it home on time tonight,” he said, changing the subject like he always did when he was busted.

“I'm not playing,” Tiffany said. She called herself putting her foot down. “Who was she? And what was she doing up in our house?”

“What are you talking about? And what girl?” Blake said again, still with a straight face. When it came to lying, Blake was a professional.

“Fuck that!” Tiffany huffed as she stormed into the bedroom. “I'm tired of this shit!”

Blake quickly hopped up off the couch and followed her into the bedroom.

“Bitch, don't come up in here stomping ya muthafuckin' feet and shit!” he growled as he jacked her up against the wall. “Apologize right now!” he demanded.

“For what? I didn't even do noâ”

A sharp punch to the stomach caused Tiffany to double over in pain, as Blake jacked her back up against the wall.

“I said apologize. Now!”

“Sorry,” she said in a light whisper.

“What you say? I can't hear you,” Blake said, taunting her.

“I said sorry,” Tiffany said, her voice filled with anger.

Another sharp punch to her stomach caused her to drop down to her knees. Again Blake jacked her back up against the wall.

“I said apologize, bitch!”

“I said sorry.” Tiffany sobbed.

“You sorry what?” Blake growled.

“I'm sorry, daddy,” Tiffany said, the warm tear streaming down her cheeks.

“That's what I thought.”

Blake smiled as he punched her in the stomach one last time. He had to make sure she would never run off at the mouth or ever question him again.

“Get ya ass up,” he said, yanking her back up to her feet. “Get in there and make me something to eat.”

“Baby, can you please order some food tonight? I'm so tired. I had a long day at work today,” she said, a pleading look in her eyes.

“Do it look like I give a fuck if you tired or not?” Blake picked her pocketbook up from off the floor. “Get in there and make me something to eat,” he said as he took all her money then tossed her pocketbook back down on the floor. “Damn! You made a killing today,” he said out loud, stuffing the bills down in his pocket.

Tiffany stood over the stove crying as she prepared a meal for her so-called man. “Fuck this shit!” she said to herself. “This the last time he gon' put his hands on me again.”

She didn't know where she was going to go, but she knew she wasn't coming back to this apartment ever again. Tonight was going to be her last and final night sleeping there.

Quick sat parked a block away from Frank's crib. After tailing the man for the past two days he was shocked to find out that Frank most of the time rolled alone. He was also shocked when he found out a man with as much money as Frank had lived in a broke down-looking house. Frank was one of them old-school cats that never bought anything big, in fear that a big purchase, or fancy clothes, or a nice ride would lead the police straight to him.

Quick continued to watch the house for a few more hours. After seeing the same pattern for the past two days, he decided that night him and Lucky would take the old man out tonight. He made the engine come to life and headed straight for Lucky's crib.

Lucky was sitting on his couch as he watched one of his lady friends get dressed. “Baby, pass me that bottle of Grey Goose from off the counter please.”

The dark-skin girl sucked her teeth as she walked over to the counter. “As much liquor as you drink, I'd think you could fuck me for longer than two minutes.”

“What you talking about?” Lucky said, feigning ignorance. The truth was, he had let her give him head so long, as soon as she hopped on top of his dick, he was already about to explode.

“You know I got you the next round.”

“I won't hold my breath.” Jessica kissed Lucky on the cheek and headed toward the door.

“Where you going?”

“To work. You know some people do have a real job.” She winked as she made her exit.

Lucky was sitting on the couch with the TV tuned to
SportsCenter
when he heard a knock at the door. He quickly grabbed the .357 that rested on the couch cushion next to him as he got up and looked through the peephole.

“My nigga, what's popping?” he asked as he gave Quick dap.

“We going to hit Frank tonight,” Quick said, stepping inside the crib.

“Tonight?” Lucky repeated. “You sure you wanna do it tonight?”

“Yeah. I been watching how he move for the past two days,” Quick told him. “Most of the time he's alone in his house.”

“Fuck it!” Lucky shrugged. “Let's do it.”

Quick looked at his watch. It was 7:07
P.M.
“I say we get ready and head over there now, watch the crib for about a hour, then make our move.”

“Say no more,” Lucky said as he disappeared in the back.

He reappeared with two bulletproof vests in his hand. He tossed one to Quick. “You need heat?”

“Nah, I'm straight,” Quick said, lifting up his shirt and flashing the butt of his 9 mm.

After Lucky strapped on his vest, he then reached under the couch and removed a TEC-9, along with three extra clips. “You ready?”

Quick nodded yes, and the two were out the door.

Lucky parked his hooptie a block away from Frank's house and hit the light. They pulled up right on time to see Frank walking inside his house, talking on his cell phone.

“There go that clown right thereâ”Lucky pointed. “You wanna hit him now?”

“Nah, let's wait for a minute,” Quick suggested as they watched Frank enter the house alone.

Frank stepped inside his crib and gave his main goon Smokey dap. “Do me a favor,” Frank said as he lit up a cigar. “Get on the phone and get the rest of the crew over here. We need to have a meeting.” Frank didn't like how things had been going out in the streets lately, and he thought a meeting was long overdue.

Smokey nodded his head and did as he was told.

“Man!” Lucky huffed. “I'm ready to go in there and handle this nigga,” he said, placing his TEC-9 on his lap.

Quick looked down at his watch and saw that almost twenty-five minutes had passed. “Fuck it! Let's do it.”

Both men slid out of the vehicle and headed toward the house. On a silent count of three Quick turned and shot the lock off the front door. Then he moved to the side and watched Lucky kick the front door open.

Lucky barged inside the house and saw Frank sitting on the couch, and another man standing in the kitchen by the refrigerator.

Before he got a chance to yell, “Don't move!” he saw the man who stood in the kitchen reach for his waistband. Without hesitation, Lucky squeezed the trigger and felt the gun rattle in his hand, ripping the man they called Smokey to pieces.

Once Smokey's body hit the floor, Lucky turned his TEC-9 on Frank, who was now running toward the back room, but a bullet to the back of his thigh dropped him dead in his tracks. Frank hit the floor then tried to crawl toward the back room.

“Fuck you think you going?” Lucky flipped the older man over with his foot so he could see his face.

“You young hustlers don't have no respect nowadays,” Frank said, wincing in pain.

“Fuck all that! I know you got a stash in here, old man. Where is it?”

Frank spat blood on Lucky's brand-new black Nike boots. “Go suck a aids dick!”

“Old man, we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

Frank smiled. “I'm from the old school, so we definitely gonna have to do this the hard way.”

Just as the words left Frank's lips, a bullet to the head silenced him once and for all.

Lucky turned around and saw Quick standing there holding a smoking 9 mm.

“Let's go,” Quick said. “We didn't come here for all of that.”

“Nigga, is you crazy?” Lucky said, looking at Quick like he had two heads. “You know how much money is probably up in here?”

Before Quick could respond, Lucky looked him in his eyes and said, “All I need is two minutes.”

Quick looked at Lucky for about four seconds. “Hurry up,” he told him, as he watched him head toward the back in search of Frank's stash.

Quick paced back and forth, impatiently waiting for Lucky to hurry up and return from the back.

All of a sudden, he heard multiple car doors slamming outside. “What the fuck?” Quick said, a look of confusion on his face as he peeked out the window. “Yo, we got company!” he yelled.

Lucky quickly returned from the back carrying a garbage bag halfway filled with money. “How many?” he asked, quickly reloading his TEC-9.

“About nine, ten,” Quick replied as he aimed his 9 mm toward the door.

“Let's go out the back door,” Lucky suggested, and him and Quick dipped out the back door just as Frank's goons were entering the front door.

Once the two made it outside, they sprinted through the grass until they reached the hooptie.

“Here. You drive.” Lucky tossed the keys over to Quick as he hopped in the passenger seat.

Quick got behind the wheel, turned on the car, and gunned the engine. As they drove past the house, Lucky hung out the window and squeezed the trigger on his TEC-9 and shot up the front of the house as the hooptie disappeared into the night.

“That's what the fuck I'm talking about,” Lucky said with a smile. He knew the garbage bag in between his legs held at least ten grand. Going back for the money was risky, but he felt he did what needed to be done.

Quick parked in front of Lucky's apartment and turned the car off. “We did it,” he said, turning to face Lucky.

“This is only the beginning,” Lucky said, and the two men got out the car and went upstairs to count up their earnings.

BOOK: Obsession

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