The Pussy Trap (9 page)

As if he could read her mind he said, “Yeah, you thought you were messing with a lamb; you fucked around and ran up in the lion’s den.”

A smiled formed on Dominique’s mouth. “Yes I did, and you ate my ass up,” she said in a drowsy voice.

“I aim to please,” Kayson said full of pride.

A long silence ended their conversation. Kayson glanced at Dominique as she dozed off. Damn shame, can’t even hang with a young boy, he thought.

He called room service and ordered some wings and two orders of pasta alfredo with shrimp. Then he showered and re-entered the room, admiring his handiwork as he looked her over. Laughing and shaking his head, he poured himself a glass of champagne and two shots of Jack Daniels. He rubbed the small sample of lotion on his body as he stared in the mirror.

“You heard what she said. Boy, you a beast,” he said, grabbing his dick. He put on the hotel robe, swallowed the shots of Jack, and prepared to settle down. Then a knock came at the door. He grabbed his nine and moved to the door.

“Who is it?”

“Room service.” The voice came from the other side of the door.

He looked out the peek hole to confirm. “Hold on.” Kayson grabbed a hundred dollar bill, slipped the gun in his pocket, and opened the door.

The young white boy pushed in the cart and looked over at Dominique who was passed out. Kayson looked at the young boy turn red and a smile came across his face.

“That will be $42.50,” his little squeaky voice bellowed out.

Kayson handed him the hundred-dollar bill and said, “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He smiled from ear to ear. With that, he was out the door.

Kayson looked under the top of each dish. It smelled so good. On the bottom was an extra tray. He opened it and saw a little cake that read: Happy Birthday Nephew. Love Unc. He smiled, closed the lid then walked over to the bed and woke Dominique up so she could eat with him. He sat next to her and patted her arm. She opened her eyes. “Wake up so we can eat this food,” he said. She rolled over, still groggy.

“I am so sleepy, Kayson,” she said, flashing him a sexy smile.

“Don’t worry; daddy will rock you back to sleep.”

All she could do was shake her head. She had not been that sexually satisfied in years and by a young nigga. She got up and joined him. They ate and laughed and then true to his word, he fucked her right back into a coma. They both slept until check out. From that day on, Dominique was hooked on that young dick and willing to do whatever she had to do to get it.

By the time Kayson was seventeen, he was no longer his uncle’s shadow; he was more like his oracle. Kayson would show on the scene, sit in a corner, and listen to them plan. Once they were done, they would turn to Kayson and ask him what he thought. Then follow it to the letter.

****

Kayson was in the local bar sitting in the back with a hoodie on his head and reading a book called As a Man Thinketh. Three dudes came walking in the bar, but Kayson never looked up. Instead, he became a chameleon so he could listen and observe. They sat down at the bar, ordered a few drinks, and started to run their mouths. The subject at hand was his uncle. All Kayson could think was how bad it was to sit in public and discuss business; especially the demise of a nigga, while totally oblivious of the surroundings.

Kayson was able to get every one of their names and peg where they were from. They finished their drinks, and then another man came walking in. He spoke, gave them an envelope of money, and said, “It’s all there, handle it and make it quick.” Then he headed back to the door.

Kayson let thirty seconds pass, then he smoothed passed them and posted himself outside. He watched the man get into his car and mentally noted the license plate and watched him pull off. Once he was gone, he quickly wrote it down. He posted himself across the street on the bus stop like he was waiting on the bus.

When the other three men came out the bar, he watched each one get into their cars and wrote down each of their plate numbers. He went to work on finding out who they were. Kayson didn’t tell his uncle what had went down; he wanted to make sure he had something first. From the pay phone, he called Dominique who had a friend who worked at the department of motor vehicles and gave her the numbers.

Within the hour, Dominique gave Kayson the information he needed. Out of the four, only one of their cars was registered to a female. The dude that came out the bar first who had paid the other two lames to put the hit out. That must have been his woman whose name was on the car. That night, Kayson suited up, got his two forty-fives, and he went to the block where his informant told him they hung out. There they were, all three, sitting in front of the corner store engrossed in conversation oblivious to the danger that lay ahead. He slid along the shadow and crept up on them and started blasting, laying them down one by one. The first two died instantly and when he got to the last one, the nigga was pleading for his life. Kayson said in a calm voice, “Where is the money he paid you to kill Rabb?”

“I don’t know what you talking about, man.”

Kayson shot him in the kneecap and the lame screamed like a bitch. “I’m going to ask you one more time, where is the money?”

“In that green Range Rover, man. Just stop shooting me. Shit, I don’t even know why the fat man wants Rabb dead.”

Kayson walked over to the Rover, busted the window, and grabbed the envelope between the seats. He walked back over to guy who had just given him the information and blew his brains out. Then he walked over to where the other two lay and put three more bullets in each of them to make a point. Pulling his hood over his head, he walked off like nothing happened. People looked on in horror.

Kayson’s next move was to get to the head nigga’s house, Fat Sam. He pulled up to the address registered to the woman whose name was on the tags. The same car he saw him get into earlier was parked in the driveway. All the lights were out, so he crept around the back of the house and found a window open on the first floor. He climbed in nice and easy. When he approached the room, he heard what sounded like a woman moaning.

Kayson eased to the door and peeked through the crack and just as he thought, Fat Sam was deep in some pussy. He pulled out his gun, busted in the door, and shot him two times in the back. Sam had fallen to the floor crying like a bitch. The woman screamed.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kayson yelled as he smacked her in the head with the gun.

“What’s your beef with Rabb?” Kayson asked with his teeth gritted.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fats said, laying there in agonizing pain.

“Do I look like a muthafucka that would have the wrong address?” He shot him in the kneecap. “I got shit to do. I don’t have time to play one hundred fucking questions with you.”

“Damn! Aaahhh . . .” Sam cried. The woman was scared as hell, up against the headboard crying hysterically and holding onto the sheets for dear life.

“Tell him what he wants to know,” she yelled.

“Shut the fuck up, Carmen!” Sam managed to yell while in excruciating pain.

Carmen yelled, “It was J-Bone.”

Kayson’s eyebrows tightened and his nostrils flared. J-Bone was his uncle’s right arm. With that, he took one last shot at Sam shooting him right between the eyes. Carmen pissed herself. When Kayson turned his attention back to her she said, “Wait. Please, don’t kill me. I told you what you needed to know.”

“Bitch, we at war and you know what you are?”

“What?” she asked crying and shaking.

“A casualty.” Kayson spat then put one bullet in each one of her eyes. “Next time see no evil, bitch.” He put his hood over his head and left out the same window he came through. Reaching the nearest pay phone, he called his uncle at the spot.

“What’s up, Unc?”

“Nothing nephew. What’s up with you?”

“Ain’t nothin’. Headed your way. Is everybody there?”

“Yeah.”

Hold them until I get there. I got something to tell y’all.”

“A’ight. Yo. Jay, make sure everybody stays put. Nephew got something for us,” he heard him yell out.

Kayson hung up and headed to the spot. When he arrived, he gave the secret knock and was let in by Butchie, the doorman. He gave him some dap and headed upstairs. Walking through the door with a serious look on his face, one his uncle had never seen on him before made him a little concerned.

Rabb was seated to the right of the table. Everyone else was seated to his left. Kayson moved his eyes across the room and when he got to J-Bone, he pulled out his gun and shot him in the middle of his forehead. Everybody jumped up and ran toward J-Bone. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” his uncle yelled out.

Kayson looked at him then pulled out the envelope of money and threw it on the table.

“What the fuck is this?” Rabb yelled as everyone else was stunned at what had just happened.

“Bounty,” Kayson spat.

“What the fuck are you talking about? How the fuck do you know that?”

“I just so happened to overhear the plan and watched the exchange. But don’t worry; I took care of all that.”

“Why didn’t you call me or let me in on what the fuck was going on?” Rabb was getting agitated because, his best friend was over there leaking.

“Look, we can exchange whys all night. However, if I didn’t put a hole in those niggas, I’d be digging one for you. Send somebody over to Rosedale Projects to take over their block. Them niggas is shell shocked right now. We need to move on this shit quick.” He turned to walk away, pausing to say, “Unc, meet me at our spot in three hours. We need to restructure.”

“Where the fuck are you going?”

Kayson turned around and smiled. “To get some pussy. Killing them muthafuckas made my dick hard.” Then he went down the stairs and out the door.

Kareem went over to Rabb and asked, “Who the fuck do he think he is?”

“The boss,” his uncle said with pride all over his face.

“Take a couple of dudes and head out to Rosedale Projects. The rest of y’all get rid of this nigga. Watch y’all back. I’ll get at y’all later.”

That day defined who Kayson is and was going to be, “The Boss”.

Chapter 9

It was the middle of summer and the block was bumping with cars playing the latest hot shit. The corners were full of runners hustling around trying to make their daily quota. In the front of the local corner store, several niggas were hitting some dice and others were smoking blunts and talking shit. Coming down the street was an all white on white Navigator. When it pulled up, one would have thought Moses had parted the Red Sea. Niggas started getting on point like their life depended on it. It was Kayson, ‘The Boss’ as they called him.

Wise kicked Aldeen. “What the fuck, man?” Aldeen turned and saw Kayson parking and stood up and made everybody get back to work. Kayson didn’t come down unless it was all business. He had put in enough work that his presence wasn’t needed, and if he had to come out, a muthafucka was definitely in trouble. He didn’t use any phone for anything; he just showed the fuck up whenever necessary.

This day, he was trying to find out why the name KoKo was ringing in the streets like she was the next big thing. Kayson stepped out of the car looking like GQ was doing a photo shoot on Lenox Avenue. He had on white linen Armani Exchange suit, with a three quarter sleeve shirt. The length allowed him to show off his platinum watch on one arm and a platinum and diamond barrel bracelet on the other. The one ring he wore on his pinky was platinum with black diamonds. On his feet, he wore Mauri gators. When he stepped out of the car, his 6’3” frame moved like he came with theme music. That muthafucka was suave as hell and now being twenty-four, he had really grown into his manhood. His mocha skin was smooth and even. He didn’t have to speak much because those hazel eyes would stare fire into a man’s soul. As he approached the corner, he was checking out the surroundings making sure shit was running like it was supposed to. He walked right up on Aldeen.

“Muthafuckas must be rich already, huh?” He was referring to the dice game he saw going on.