Read Thirsty Online

Authors: Mike Sanders


BOOK: Thirsty
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A novel by

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Wahida Clark Presents Publishing, LLC 134 Evergreen Place
Suite 6005
East Orange, New Jersey 07108 973-678-9982

Copyright 2008 © by Mike Sanders.
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

ISBN 13-digit 978-0-9818545-4-0 ISBN 10-digit 0-9818545-4-0

Library of Congress Catalog Number 2009921479
1. Urban, Charlotte, North Carolina, Hip-Hop, Women, African American, – Fiction

Cover design and layout by Baja Wakiri Ukweli Book design by Jonathan Gullery
Edited by Tobias A. Fox

Printed in Canada

This book is dedicated to someone whom I love totally and unconditionally. The one person who pushed me into pouring all of my blood, sweat, and tears into this novel and making it come together. Thank you SOOOOOO much!!! So without further ado, I would like to dedicate this book to MY DAMN SELF!! Yeah, I said it!!


First and foremost I would like to thank the Most High for all things imaginable!
Mikai, LeCrecia, and Skylar, words can’t begin to describe the way I feel about my princesses. Thanks for your unconditional love! Daddy is finally home and it is ON!!!
My caring and loving family, without your support and encouragement I would have crashed a long time ago. Thanks for throwing me a life line when I was drowning!
No, I’m not going to waste neither my energy nor my acknowledgment space naming all of you who shit on me in my time of need because you know who you are. If you’re not sure if I’m talking about YOU just speak to me and see what type of reaction you get.
Kinya, it’s only right that you get your shine because you have been pivotal in this process and a true “friend.” Although you, too, at one point turned your back, it’s still love! Thanks for continuing to be there when I needed you most.
To those who showed love when I came home (Corey, Barry, Rez, Dirt, Big Will, Sum, and Big B. the Guyanese) I really appreciate it. I see that real people really do real things! That’s what’s up!!
To all of my readers across the nation, thanks for your support! Here’s another banger for you! Can’t wait to meet all of you on tour very soon!!
Thanks to all of the book clubs that read
Hustlin’ Backwards
and posted reviews. Ms.Toni from OOSA, good lookin’ for everything. I really appreciate it.
To everyone on lock, keep ya heads to the sky!! Change is gonna come soon!!!
Thanks to everyone at WCP! Wahida, Tobias, Hadiya, Keisha, and everyone who contributed to getting
into print. This is only the beginning!!
You can get at me at: queencitysb[email protected], myspace/ queencitysbest and


s I nervously climbed those winding stairs with my baby .380 clutched tightly in my sweaty palms, I could feel beads of sweat trickling down between my breasts. With each step I climbed, my heart beat like jungle drums and felt as if it would leap from my chest at any given moment. Regardless, I knew I had to still my nerves, but I also knew there was no turning back! I’d decided that
would be the day I’d make this nigga pay for all of the pain and anguish he’d put me through.

As I neared the door to his home office I could hear the familiar melodious sound of his money counting machine as it rhythmically spit out bill after bill. I was hoping that I’d rocked him to sleep during our time together so he’d be totally oblivious to what I was about to do. I was also hoping that he’d gotten so comfortable as to have left the door unlocked. He knew I had never disturbed him while he was in this room handling his business because I knew a man needed his space from time to time. But today,
space was about to become
as well.

When I was directly in front of the large, oak door I stood there and silently prayed my nerves would allow me to carry out my task. Hell, it’s not everyday a sistahh’s about to catch a damn

A million and one emotions began to well up in me all at once. So suddenly, that it felt as if they were colliding and toppling over one another. I tried with all the restraint I could muster up to hold back the tears, which were fighting to be released, but it was to no avail. My eyes lost the battle and the water sprang free. Mascara streaked down my chiseled cheekbones as the tears flowed freely.

Just the thought of how easily the man beyond this door had come into my life and turned it upside down, made me really grasp the concept of what could happen when a man catches you at a vulnerable stage. I witnessed first hand how a woman’s mind can really get twisted.

After taking a deep, nervous breath I reached for the cold knob and was thoroughly surprised to find it
I paused for a moment to muster up the courage I needed. With a trembling hand, I twisted the brass knob and hurriedly pushed the heavy door open just in time witness this nigga’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets as he looked up from his desk where he sat.

“Justice,” he called out my name while staring in astonishment as I stood there in his doorway brandishing a pistol, looking like a crazed woman.

How It All Began…

ocated downtown on South Summit Avenue was club Nine Three Five, and everybody who was somebody was up in the house tonight. Charlotte’s hottest nightclub was off the hook for its first annual “Grown & Sexy White Party.” All patrons were dressed immaculately from head to toe in all white. From a distance it looked angelic. It was showtime for real. Dope boys competing with the celebrities and the girls competing with each other.

DJ Incognito was pumping the latest Mary J. Blige hit. The sound of the bass invaded my soul as I sat slightly swaying my hips on the barstool and observing the packed mirrored dance floor. The whole while I was keeping a close eye on the VIP.

Carolina Panthers’ Julius Peppers held down the VIP section with several of his teammates along with a few members of the Charlotte Bobcats basketball team. Panthers’ star wide receiver Steve Smith was celebrating his birthday and champagne was flowing like it was mere tap water. Security was thick like Obama himself was trying to get a drink. But that didn’t stop the hundreds of groupies from begging for VIP wristbands and trying to get in. Charlotte’s most elite nightclub was packed to capacity and it was a wonder that the fire marshals hadn’t yet come and tried to shut things down.

It is a known fact that whenever the ballers came out to party, so does the “baller chasers.” Needless to say, every chick who thought they had what it took to snag one of those niggas was hovering around the club in the skimpiest outfit they could squeeze into, lurking like vultures waiting for the kill.

Money attracts women, so for every one male there were at least three women and the men were taking complete advantage of the three to one ratio. Most of the men were well groomed and looked as if they had just stepped out of the barber’s chair. But there were a few who looked like they had just finished going ten rounds with Mike Tyson. Most of these niggas were hustlers whose chips were not stacked as high as the ball players, yet and still, together they flossed enough ice to build a three-family igloo.

My girl Sapphire and I were seated at one of the two bars on the first level of the club basking in the limelight. We were enjoying our drinks and grooving to the smooth sounds that were pouring from the sound system. I was in my zone and feeling hella good! Guys had been checkin’ for us all night, but Sapphire and I were unfazed by all of the attention we had been receiving. One by one, we had been shooting niggas down left and right. But that didn’t deter a few who were still relentlessly determined to holla. Evidently, quite a few seemingly assumed they had what the next man didn’t because even well into the night they were still approaching.

We hadn’t been out in quite some time so we were truly letting it all hang out tonight. Being the object of most men’s desire was nothing new to us. We were accustomed to stealing away most of the other chicks’ spotlights wherever we went. This night was no different.

Sapphire and I were what most people would refer to as
because no one really knew a whole lot about us. Men
us because they couldn’t have us at the drop of a hat like most other chicks, and women
us because they couldn’t figure us out. The hate never really bothered us because we were aware of the fact that it is human nature for us to fear and oftentimes hate what we don’t understand. For that reason, our circle always stayed as tight as a nun’s pussy. Besides the two of us, we didn’t have any female friends because bitches are just

As I swiveled around on my stool to face the bar I was startled by a presence that had sidled his way between me and Sapphire. Evidently, this nigga had spoken to me while I was checking out the VIP, but I hadn’t heard a word he’d said.

“What!? I can’t hear you,” I shouted over the loud music to, yet, another brother whom had invaded me and my girl’s space for what seemed like the umpteenth time since our arrival at the club. This one definitely had
chance whatsoever. His face was decorated with the kind of pimples I hadn’t seen since junior high school and his so-called dreads were so matted up they looked like a throw rug. The instant deal breaker was his dental work. He was displaying my ultimate turn-off— platinum teeth! I hate to see metal in a grown man’s mouth.

“I said can I buy the beautiful lady a drink?” Dreadlocks repeated himself slightly louder than he’d done the first time.
“No thank you, sweetie. I’m straight,” I replied casually, trying not to be rude. I picked up my XO from the bar and took a sip just to make sure he saw that I had a fresh drink and didn’t need his assistance. Dreadlocks kept trying to holla but I had already tuned him out after the word “drink” had escaped his lips. I was so not feeling this nigga! I turned my back to him and started talking to Sapphire while he stood there looking angry and dejected.
“Oh, so you gonna just turn ya’ back to a nigga while he talkin’ to you?” Dreadlocks asked with his burnt lips a little too close to my ear. He was so close I could feel one of his dreads grazing my neck. I could also smell his breath, which reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.
At this point I felt as if Dreadlocks was being a slight bit disrespectful. This caused the tiny steel ball in the center of my tongue to start clacking against the insides of my top front teeth. Clacking my tongue ring was a predisposition that happened anytime I’m angry or annoyed. And it happened every time without fail!
I continued to ignore him until he finally got the message that I wasn’t going to give him any rhythm. He sauntered off in search of another potential victim. But not before calling me a “conceited bitch.”
“Oooooh, no-the-hell-he-didn’t!” Sapphire commented in disbelief as she watched the guy walk away. “Rude ass nigga. Right up
alley, huh, Justice,” she teased with a pearly white smile. Her soft voice was straining to be heard over the roaring music.
“Bitch, pleeze. Smelled like he had a lil’ man wit’ shitty boots on walking around in the back of his throat. I almost passed-the-fuckout!” I had my nose turned up as if I could still smell the guy’s breath.
Sapphire and I always got a kick out of teasing one another. We were
the shit
and we knew it. It had once been stated that, “A beautiful woman armed with a load of confidence is considered to be a dangerous woman!” Me and my girl definitely oozed with exuberant confidence. We were two bitches with class, sass,
ass! A helluva combination.
I sat my drink down and glanced over at the mirror behind the bar where the liquor was stacked and caught a glimpse of my reflection. I was dressed in a pair of leather Dolce & Gabbana white shorts that accented my well toned butter scotch thighs and a silk blouse that was unbuttoned down to the crease of my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra, so I knew men would be drooling over my perky breasts every time the silk shirt grazed my nipples.
With one fluid motion I uncrossed, then crossed my legs again, placing the opposite leg atop the other so all of the lustful-eyed niggas could get a quick flash of thick thighs. I also did it so all of the jealous chicks that I knew were watching could get a good look at my expensive Guiseppe stiletto thong boots.
I looked over at Sapphire and saw her give me one of those, “Gurl, you a damn trip” looks as she twisted her lips into a half-smile because she knew exactly what I was doing. Not wanting to be outdone, Sapphire flipped her jet-black shoulder length tresses backwards over her shoulder so the platinum diamond earrings she was wearing could sparkle for everyone to see. She glanced down at her cleavage and discreetly adjusted her ample ebony D-cups so that they looked as if they were about to pop out of the top of the white Prada dress with spaghetti straps. As I watched my girl vie for attention, for the first time that night I noticed how well the dress she had chosen to wear was clashing perfectly with her chocolate skin.
Although Sapphire is a pound or two slimmer than my voluptuous frame she is still a far cry from being petite. Nor does she have my slanted eyes, but she is still as fine as wine in her own right. On a daily basis I continuously get compared to that Kimora Lee chick because of my “Asian-like” eyes and the uncanny resemblance we bare. Sapphire on the other hand had been told a time or two that she could pass for a thicker version of Gabrielle Union—all the way down to the dimples.
While grooving on my stool to Anthony Hamilton’s latest joint, I unconsciously thought about how much my girl Sapphire has meant to me for years. I conceded that she was truly the sister I never had. Although I loved my friend to death, there were times when she could be a tad bit nerve wracking with her naïveté. At this time, I was twentytwo, only nineteen months older than Sapphire. However, that age gap seemed so much broader because I’d been exposed to so much more shit.
I had never really lived what one would call a sheltered life and I’ve always had street smarts. There’s absolutely nothing slow about me but the way I walk. Therefore, sometimes it took a true vet such as myself to school Sapphire on certain aspects of life, especially when it came to trifling ass men. Nevertheless, no matter how many times I would try to tell her about those dogs, she would fail to take heed; leading her to a broken heart every other week.
For example, a few weeks ago Sapphire had caught her so-called boyfriend Travis getting his tiny ass dick sucked by her cousin. Her trifling ass first cousin Joy had been on her knees giving him dome in his living room while he sat there on the sofa with his pants around his ankles. He hadn’t even had the common sense to take the liberty of locking the damn door when he knew Sapphire could pop up at any given moment. I would have kicked both their asses. She just calmly walked back down the steps to the parking lot and keyed his Benz.
I had even tried to warn Sapphire that Travis’s dog ass was no damn good and how he had even had the audacity to try
when she was not around. However, Sapphire wouldn’t listen and had to find out the hard way.
Nevertheless, I have always felt compassion for my girl. The two of us had been as thick as thieves for years. We had met years earlier when my mother had moved me and my younger brother Monk to Charlotte, North Carolina, from Chicago in search of a “better life,” so she had said
When our family had first arrived in Charlotte we ended up living next door to Sapphire and her mother in Piedmont Courts housing projects (one of the worst projects in the city at that time). Sapphire’s mother and my mother became friends, so naturally, Sapphire and I spent a lot of time together. Back then Sapphire’s mother had an abusive boyfriend named Ty and I often noticed bruises on Sapphire’s arms and legs, which she always claimed to come from falling or bumping into things. School counselors also noticed and questioned her, but she continuously convinced them that nothing was wrong at home.
One night Sapphire’s mother and Ty were arguing so loud that it woke me up out of my sleep. Next thing I heard was a gunshot followed by shrill screams. Two minutes later, Sapphire’s mother was banging on our door, screaming and crying hysterically. She was yelling that Ty had shot himself. She was trembling so hard that she couldn’t have dialed 911 if she had tried. So, my mother called the police for her.
I was sitting up in my bed, listening to my mother try to calm Sapphire’s mother down when my bedroom door slowly opened. Sapphire stood there in her bed clothes. Her eyes were lifeless and she looked like she had seen a damn ghost. I got up and pulled her into my room and shut the door.
“What happened?” I asked.
She didn’t respond. I think she was in shock.
Sapphire finally climbed into bed with me like she always did whenever she spent the night. She curled up into a ball and just stared up at the ceiling. My nosey ass wanted to know what had happened to Ty, but Sapphire was not telling. The next morning it was all over the news and all over the neighborhood that Ty had shot himself in the head. It was ruled a suicide. But later that day, after my best friend made me promise to never repeat what she was about to tell me, Sapphire broke down and told me what
Ty had been molesting Sapphire for two years right up under her mother’s nose. Sapphire wouldn’t tell because he had said he’d kill her and her mother if anyone ever found out, and she believed him. The night he died Sapphire’s mother had caught him sneaking out of Sapphire’s room and zipping up his pants. An argument ensued and Sapphire’s mother asked her what Ty was doing in her room. Sapphire finally told on him. Sapphire’s mother must’ve temporarily lost her mind and went to get Ty’s gun from their bedroom drawer. She blew his brains out right before Sapphire’s young eyes.
For all these years I’ve kept my promise to my girl and no one will
know about that night unless she told them because I intended to take her secret to my grave!
Ever since Sapphire had caught Travis she had been a little down in the dumps. So, I figured a night out at Nine Three Five was just what the doctor ordered to get her mind off of things.
“Look,” said Sapphire while nodding toward the dance floor. “Shabba Ranks still tryin’ to get at you.” She was referring to the guy who had called me a “conceited bitch.”
I turned towards the dance floor and spotted Dreadlocks dancing with a heavyset light-skinned chick. He was staring at me with bloodshot eyes. I held his gaze for a second, then sat my drink on the bar and raised my right hand to my lips. I blew a kiss in his direction while displaying my best fake smile.
Sapphire took a sip of her Mimosa and almost chocked when she saw what I’d just done. She choked back a cough and wiped her lips with a napkin.
“Why the hell you do that? You know he gonna come runnin’ his lil’ happy ass back over here.”
“I want him to catch that and kiss my ass wit’ it. I got his ‘conceited bitch’
” I replied while picking my drink back up and resumed to sip and groove.
“O-Kaaay,” Sapphire teased as we both laughed and raised our hands high for a high-five, then commenced to slap hands in midair.
I looked around the smoke-filled room and saw several big time hustlers. Some I recognized, others were new faces. They were all sipping champagne and trying to holla at anybody who they thought would fall victim to their prowess. My eyes wandered to one of the many pool tables in a far corner of the room where two fine ass brothers were shooting a game. It was obvious to me that they were not ball players because they just had that “street” appeal that made my spine tingle. The jewels they were draped in were shining so brightly I could see the sparkle of different colored stones even from where I was seated. It’s safe to say that they looked very appetizing.
However, I had to check myself because I’d sworn off fucking with hustlers. I absolutely refused to go down that avenue again. I’d had entirely too many close brushes with danger while fucking with those types of men in my past. I must admit though, I definitely enjoyed the benefits I’d reaped from playing my role with them, but the reward was not worth the risk.
Back in the day I had never really understood why most women were always attracted to the niggas who would have rather hugged the streets than hug their woman. That chronicle had always been somewhat a mystery to me until one day I met a street nigga named Carlos who turned my ass out! Had me running behind him and even searching for his ass in broad daylight with a flashlight. Had a bitch sprung.
I had met Carlos at a nightclub downtown in the Adam’s Mark hotel a few years back and it had been on since the day I first laid eyes on him. He was the only man who could handle me and my wild ways. He kept me laced in the latest fashions and I never wanted for anything when I was with him. But I got tired of being so dependent on him and wanted my own shit and he didn’t like that. That’s when the problems started and we ended up going our separate ways. We stayed cool, but it was never like it was in the beginning of our relationship.
Since dealing with Carlos, I had begun to understand why a woman would act that way over those types of niggas. But for the life of me I still couldn’t seem to explain it. Personally, there was just something about a nigga dressed in baggy jeans with a mean swagger and a permanent screw faced expression that made my thong sticky upon first sight. And God forbid if the nigga had a baldhead, I’d have to wring my panties out like a wet dish cloth. Like a fool, I thought I could change a hustler. That is, until I began to see a continuous pattern of those men eventually changing
. Since I’d reformed from getting seriously involved with street niggas I still couldn’t let go of the sex. I absolutely had to have me some of that “thug dick” from time to time.
It’s true what they say about thugs. They’ve got the best dick game! Whoever had coined the phrase “thug love” must have had experienced some of that same “I can’t walk straight ’cause dis nigga done fucked me ’til my pussy was raw” type sex that I’ve endured with a few street niggas, especially with my ex Carlos. Sex between the two of us had always been earth shattering!
Lately I’d been setting my sights higher and I was determined to make my dollars graduate. For instance, all of those ball playing niggas who were in the club tonight were all fair game. A little challenge has never hurt anyone before. Besides, I have always been thirsty for guap, a thirst that will never be quenched.
I finally looked away from the pool table where the hustlers were and fixed my gaze on the dance floor, then over to the second bar area hoping to spot a potential victim. No one caught my eye. I then gazed toward the area where the VIP was located and saw the familiar faces of several well-known athletes who were surrounded by groupies. While observing these tricks, I sucked my teeth and rolled my eyes at those cheap ass hookers who were fucking the game up for “real” bitches such as myself. I knew half of those heifers would fuck for a mere buck and the other half would do something real strange for a little piece of change. They had no idea how to get real money from those niggas. That thought alone had me seething with anger.
Sapphire must have did a CAT scan on my brain and read my thoughts. “Girl, what you over there thinkin’ ’bout?” she asked.
“See that.” I pointed towards the VIP area. “It’s hoes like that who be in the way and blockin’.”
Sapphire turned on her stool in the direction in which I was looking. She teased, “Don’t hate. Participate.”
“Chile pleeze. Them hoes can’t even smell my panties, let alone fuck wit’ my game. I’ll run circles around them square ass bitches.”
I looked at my girl and realized she didn’t have a clue as to how treacherous I was.

BOOK: Thirsty
9.84Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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