King of The Hood 2 Read online

  “Who is she?”

  My head snapped in his direction at the sound of his voice.

  “Yo nurse,” I answered, smartly.

  His light gray eyes peered at me.

  “Make me beat yo ass. Who is she?” He spoke slowly, switching his position with the help of his nurse.

  I know for a fact ain’t shit wrong wit his ass. Big damn flirt.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. Take a break, call yo man, eat something. I need to talk to my boy,” he told her, after straightening his self completely.

  “Sure. Are you sure you are okay? Do you need anything else?” She quizzed.

  “No, sweetheart. I’m good,” he smiled, winking.

  She giggled slightly, while shaking her head. She gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder before walking off.

  He watched her as she left the room. Coming around the corner she’s departing to, was Smooth, with a plate housing two burgers and fries. Chef always put the food in the holding trays once he’s cooked. Gramps’ kitchen is what professional cooks salivate over. Even though Gramps is an amazing cook, he’s unable to cook now. He was able to teach me how to cook though.

  “Who is she?” He reiterated.

  Taking a deep breath, releasing it slowly, oh, so very slowly. I threw my head back. He ain’t gonna let this shit go. Negro got a memory, and tenacity that rivals anybody half his age. His ass worse that a hound dog on the hunt.

  “She’s a beautiful, statuesque, real shapely woman. They don’t make’em like her anymore. You remember those cornbread fed, cabbage, rice and gravy, eating women, from back home? That’s her,” Smooth answered, making me eye his ass.

  “Is that so? So, what’s the problem?” Gramps inquired, eyeing me.

  “She dance,” Smooth answered.

  “Dance? So,” Gramps started.

  “She’s ah stripper,” Smooth clarified.

  “She built nice?” Gramps questioned.

  “Yep, real nice,” Smooth added.

  They having a full on conversation like my ass ain’t in the damn room.

  “So, what’s the problem?” Gramps inquired, eyeing me.

  “That I don’t know,” Smooth answered, with a shrug.

  Then simultaneously, they turned, looking at me.

  “Oh, now I get to talk? Y’all just had a whole convo like my ass wasn’t even here,” I stated, smartly.

  THAWACK!

  “Damn, Gramps! Yo ass strong,” I howled, rubbing my leg.

  Negro hit my ass with his damn walking stick. The bitch is heavy. Sliding my chair back outta his reach. I should’ve known better. After all the times I’ve caught that damn stick on certain parts of my body.

  “Get smart again, I’mma knock yo funny looking ass out. Now, yo ass out cher judging women without knowing everything. How the hell you know she dance? You seen her?” He fussed.

  Biting back my true response. Instead,

  “No, sir, I just saw her outside of ‘Creamy Pies.’ Why else would she be there if she don’t work there?” I questioned, with what’s logical to me.

  Smooth shook his head before biting in his burger. While Gramps looked like he was ready to jump on my head.

  “What kind of? Young, dumb, immature ass. Haven’t I taught yo ass anything? What I told yo ass bout making assumptions?” He barked.

  Blowing out a deep breath,

  “Assuming makes an ass outta me, mo’ than the person I’m assuming the worst about. Without really knowing the truth,” I grumbled.

  He damn near beat that shit in my ass.

  “Un huh, that’s why yo sourpuss ass sitting there holding yo mans, instead of going deep sea diving in some good shit,” he taunted, causing Smooth to chuckle.

  Pulling my phone out hitting my messages.

  ~me~ Where the fuck yo ass at?

  Hitting send, I waited.

  “He tryin’ to run now, Smooth. Shit, I’m still gonna be here. I ain’t leaving ‘til I get some great grands that looks like our weird asses,” his boisterous laugh boomed throughout the room.

  This old nigga, I though before,

  ~Racks~ Pullin’ up now

  “Thank fuck,” I grumbled, after reading that.

  “Aye, ole’ heads, I’m gone,” I announced, standing.

  “I wish yo ass would leave here without me talking to Racks. That’s my boy too,” he threatened, picking up his iPad.

  Racks just had to show his ass how to use that shit, I thought, as the front door open. He got that damn eyeball bell shit alarm system. Racks’ ass ain’t never in a rush when he’s walking. Well, shit, none of us are. The world will always wait fa’ the Kings.

  “Hey, hey, hey. Wha’sup, Gramps, Smooth? How y’all be?” Racks greeted, walking into the living room.

  “Ain’t nothin’, young blood. Yo ass looking well. Yo ass musta got some cutty last night,” Gramps spoke, while accepting Racks’ handshake.

  “Naww, no cutty last night. Tonight tho, it’s on,” he stated.

  “Make sho’ she worth it. Don’t be planting seeds anywhere. Yo ass mess round end up wit something like Banks’ dumb ass got,” Gramps schooled.

  “Oh, no doubt. I got double wrapped, pull out, nut in the condom, burning shit, going on. These hoes ain’t worth my seeds,” he let Gramps know.

  “Much respect. Aye, before Stone drag yo ass up outta here. You met his woman?” Gramps challenged, causing me to groan.

  “His woman?” Racks stated, looking confused.

  “Don’t answer that negro,” I warned.

  He hit me with a smirk, making me hate I said anything. Damn, I shoul’na said nothin’.

  “Stallion,” Racks sung out.

  “Stallion?” Gramps and Smooth repeated in unison.

  Racks nodded real slow, like he’s reminiscing or something. He gets on my fucking nerves.

  “Un huh, she’s something serious. Stone can’t get away wit shit wit’er. She got his ass shook. She busts guns like a trained assassin,” he let them know.

  “Fuck you, nigga. Lying ass, fucker,” I spat, causing Gramps and Smooth to laugh.

  “She a stripper?” Gramps questioned, once he got his self together.

  Racks shrugged then, “I don’t know what she is. Her stature says boss tho,” he answered, truthfully.

  His answer caused Gramps and Smooth to place thoughtful looks on their faces. Cutting my eyes towards Smooth, he caught my eye, hitting me with a smirk. These old heads works my nerves.

  “Aiight. Stone, I wanna meet her. Make that shit happen. Racks bring yours too. Tell that lumped up head Banks I wanna see his ass. He haven’t brought my grandbaby to see me. Get gone. Call me later, Stone. Don’t bring yo ass back. I got a lady friend coming by tonight,” he told us, putting us out.

  Chuckling, I walked to him, giving him a hug, dapping Smooth up, I hollered to the nurse. Racks followed suit, then we headed out. We didn’t talk, just loaded up in his Escalade. The bitch is bad. Ain’t nobody else got one like it.

  “The hell yo ass did today?” He asked, as we hit the interstate.

  “Went by ‘Creamy Pies,’ ran into Stallion outside, she dances there. Smooth was wit my ass. Gramps read me soon as I stepped in the living room. I swear, his old ass is fucking psychic. I-”

  “Why Gramps read yo ass? The fuck you did?” He questioned, interrupting me.

  Smacking my teeth, I side eyed his ass.

  “Damn near fucked Stallion on the side of her Lexus truck,” I responded.

  “Aww, shit,” he whistled out.

  “Shut the fuck up. Oh, yea, I shot Bumps’ ass,” I snapped, causing a chuckle to slip out before he caught his self.

  “Bumps? The fuck?” He snapped.

  “Bitch tryin’ to be a damn security guard. Hopefully, Bo-Bo from the Burg, listen to my ass,” I explained,

  “Aiight, besides finding out Stallion work there, shooting bitch made niggas. Did yo ass meet the owner?” He ran down.

  “Fuck no. Bo-Bo let me kno
w he wasn’t there. His ass know mo’ than his lips said tho. I’mma send Dawg to scope the shit out. He damn good wit that recon shit. Plus, he can sniff out some bullshit,” I answered.

  “Yo ass think owner gonna take yo ass up on yo offer?” He asked, flying down 285.

  Nigga don’t be worrying bout speeding tickets.

  “Fuck yeah. What the fuck I’m offering is the shit. Compared to what the fuck may happen to his shit. The nigga needs to hire some better security. Muthafuckas shouldn’t be able to move shit in there so damn easily. It’s obvious the owner don’t know shit,” I let his ass know.

  My words were met by silence. Loco’s off ass went to ‘Creamy Pies’ over the weekend or some shit. He enjoyed the big bottom dancers and the floor show. But he also saw an unknown nigga. He said he looked like one of Turtle’s men going into a private room with a stripper. Later, dude came out smiling hard, while the stripper looked high as fuck.

  Classic bullshit. Classic take over shit. Get a stripper caught up so, she’ll help move the shit. Basically, receiving full access to the club. Get enough on the same terms, they turn on the owner.

  “Fuck it, whatever it is, I’m wit it. I ain’t made it out to that bitch yet. All this other fuck shit keeps popping off. Summertime muthafuckas lose they minds. Females get stupid, hoes tries to be stingy. Just bullshit, I swear,” he vented, causing me to eye his ass.

  “Damn, what the fuck is really going on wit yo ass?” I whistled out.

  He didn’t respond.

  “HP got back to yo ass bout that info on them fuck boy’s phones?” I questioned, choosing to change the subject.

  Again, he didn’t answer.

  “Racks, nigga, I’mma knock yo ass the fuck out. Speak, nigga. Shit, yo ass actin’ like a female,” I snapped.

  “Stone,” he hissed, eyeing me.

  I ain’t saying shit.

  “Aiight, impatient bastard. I went out to Percy’s Saturday night,” he started.

  “By yo’ self?” I interrupted.

  “Un huh. I’m a fucking man of the twenty-first, second, century. Whatever the fuck we in. I can eat the fuck alone. Shit, dressing nice, enjoying some shit, is grown man status,” he explained.

  “Mos’ def,” I agreed.

  Gramps taught our asses that shit. Saying a paid man alone makes those around him guess his worth. Racks is a culture aware negro. Museums, libraries, jazz concerts, educational shit, he’s there. He has actually travelled to different countries to learn the history.

  “Check it, I’m seated sipping on a glass of Chateau Petrus, enjoying the atmosphere. Where I was seated, I could see the entire restaurant. A couple of females walked passed my table, trying to invite themselves to a seat. I declined they asses. I wasn’t up fa’ no fake actin’ pussy from a real hoe. I let them down easily, and you know that ain’t my ass.

  I look up, in walks Kimmy and some big lumberjack, Andre the giant, looking muthafucka. I can’t lie, she put every female to fucking sleep. Stunting ain’t even the right word fa’ what the fuck she was doing. They were seated at a table to my left. I decided to just do what I came there to do, eat, and enjoy myself. Throughout my entire meal, her eyes were trained on me. You know how I feel bout games,” he paused.

  “Un huh, you don’t play them, not even the console,” I recited.

  Nodding, he chuckled a little. Racks’ ass is the worst storyteller.

  “Aiight, so I enjoyed my meal, paid, left a tip. Stood, before making my exit, I needed to hit the head. Hitting the restroom, I pissed, washed my hands, stepped out, dead into Kimmy’s ass. On instinct, my hands landed on her ass. Her shit is real. She didn’t immediately step out my embrace.

  Then, like something clicked, she pushed me off. Glaring at me in a hushed whisper, she leaned into me then,

  “What are you doing here? Are you following me? I didn’t take you as a stalker. At least you got sense not to make a scene. Now, can you please leave me alone? I’ve told you, you are not who I want, and I meant it.”

  “What the fuck? That bitch crazy,” I blurted out, interrupting him.

  “My sentiments exactly. Yeah, she got some crazy in her ass, but she’s also manipulative. She had to give a reason for getting up from her table. She needed to have an answer once she made it back to her table. I laughed in her face, before walking off. She wanted my words, but I be damned. Hitting the main dining room, my eyes clashed wit the dude she was there wit. He seems like a possessive muthafucka. I hit his ass wit a smirk, while adjusting my dick. His ass got tight. He stood from his seat. I cut my eyes to my right, Kimmy had appeared. Without a word, just a knowing look, I walked off, leaving the restaurant,” he finished.

  “Damn, she ain’t ready fa’ the great white hope,” I chuckled out.

  Only his ass’ll cut up in a nice ass restaurant.

  “She ain’t. Despite the fact she wants a taste. It’s killing her ass. I’mma let’er die slow before I revive her,” he boasted.

  Chuckling while shaking my head. His ass the master at proving muthafuckas wrong. She fucked all the way up with judging him, then showing her hand.

  “Turtle bitch ass used his kid’s and baby mama’s phones to contact Link and Jeb. I say we run through the Burg. Claim some shit. That’ll bring his ass outta hiding. What Wolfe told you?” He spoke.

  “He don’t know where Turtle ass at. I’ve had Demon and Bird on his ass. He ain’t been doing shit. He wants Turtle his self. Muthafucka stole from his ass. You know usually when that shit happens, you take the family of the snake out.

  Wolfe let me know that shit wouldn’t matter wit Turtle. Bitch nigga don’t give a fuck bout his kids. Wolfe say they live worse than the po’. He don’t help wit shit. Of course, I ain’t just took his word fa’ it. Dawg confirmed the shit. So, cutting his money off like yo ass suggested, will bring his ass out,” I explained.

  He just nodded his agreement. Silence fell between us. We making rounds in a way. Just hitting up shit, making sure muthafuckas doing they jobs.

  As bad as I don’t want it to, my mind went to Stallion. What the fuck is the real deal wit her ass? I ain’t never had to accept shit ever in my fucking life. It was either my way or die. Now, I’m wondering if I can accept her ass. Time to hit HP up. She’s hiding something. I need to know what the fuck that is, before I even attempt to get in deep wit her ass.

  Aquaneesha

  *Monday morning ten o’clock

  Richland Memorial Children’s Hospital

  July 2nd**

  “Okay, Mr. Seaqual, are you ready to go home?” Dr. Wilson, Seaqual’s pulmonologist questioned, after finishing his examination.

  “Yes, sir,” Seaqual exclaimed.

  “Good, good, your lungs sounds a lot better. I’m going to up your medication. Also, you will be taking a steroid for a few weeks. I want you to take it easy for a day or two. Okay?” He explained.

  “Okay,” Seaqual agreed.

  His ass will agree to anything, as long as he gets to leave this place. He has never cared for the hospital. I mean, who does?

  “Neesha, you are doing an excellent job with him. Can I speak to you outside?” He praised and asked.

  “Sure,” I nodded, standing, pulling on my shirt.

  Mr. Banks was nice enough to send Dawg here with bags of clean clothes, shower gel, and other personal items. Dawg grumbled something about not being a delivery boy, while handing me the bags. I thanked him. I don’t know how Banks was able to do it, but he had gotten everything in the correct size, even my bra and panties.

  I was extremely grateful as I showered. He even had clothes for Seaqual to wear home. The only thing about the clothes, they’re a little snug. Well, more fitted than I typically buy for myself. My body, curves and all, are on display in these capri length tights and baby tee.

  “What’s wrong, Dr. Wilson?” I questioned, as soon as Seaqual’s room door closed.

  “Seaqual’s sugar levels spiked due to his lack of oxygen. Nothing showed in his b
loodwork that would constitute him ingesting something he shouldn’t have. That fact that his blood vessels weren’t receiving the correct amount of oxygen to expand, caused his levels to spike. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but if Seaqual hadn’t gotten help when he did, he would’ve slipped into a diabetic coma and possibly never came out of it-”

  I gasped, interrupting him.

  “I know it’s hard to hear. Please get him out of his current environment. Someone around him doesn’t mean him any good. I called in his prescriptions, with the stronger medicine, he will need a new breathing machine. Since he doesn’t like the one with the breathing tubes that goes into his nose. The steroids will strengthen his lungs. I want him to take the full dosage for the next two months.

  I’ve already made him a follow up appointment to have his lungs tested. Continue taking great care of him, the way you have been. A nurse should be in with his discharge papers. I’ll see y’all later. You know what to do if you need me,” he finished, handing me a folder.

  “Thank you, Dr. Wilson,” I accepted.

  He simply nodded, then walked off, after giving me a comforting pat on my back. Standing before the room door, I paused with my hand on the knob.

  “God, give me strength,” I whispered, then pushed the door open.

  I’m not even surprised in the least at Seaqual sitting up in the bed waiting on me.

  “What he say?” He questioned, without hesitation.

  He knows I don’t keep anything that deals with him away from him.

  “He said I’m taking damn good care of yo lil’ ass. Especially since you are a lil’ aggy thing,” I teased.

  “Naww, he didn’t, I ain’t aggy. You do take great care of me. But I make it easy,” he clapped back, causing me to giggle, while shaking my head.

  “Seriously, he did say I’m taking awesome care of you. The lack of oxygen caused your sugar levels to spike. He upped your meds. Changed the one for your breathing machine. So, I have to get you a new one. That’s it,” I explained, truthfully.

  “You can’t afford a new machine,” he whined, slightly.

  “Yes, I can. I always get everything you need. Now, stop whining, that’s not becoming of you. Gathering your stuff, go take a shower, you stink,” I teased.