Married to a Brownsville Bully 1 Read online

  3

  Yolani

  I had to make a few runs before I headed to Jersey to my brother’s crib. He knew money always moved, and I had to be the one to make sure shit continued to move. Yeah, I could have relaxed and allowed my team to handle shit while I went to do family shit, but we didn’t get where we were by sitting back and letting others run shit for us. My team went hard for me and would make sure shit was on the up and up, but I had to physically lay eyes on shit to be able to go on about my day. Wifey bitched and moaned about the amount of time I spent in the streets. I heard her, and I understood how she felt. Truth be told, I wanted to give my woman the world, and it was the reason I worked so hard. The day I was able to hand her the keys to her new storefront for her salon was the happiest day of my life. The shit felt like I was floating on a high for weeks after that. Seeing her smile was all I needed to continue to make sure she was straight.

  Hazel had been my heart since we met in high school. She tried to act like she liked niggas for a few years until she realized that she was feeling me. I always loved her but didn’t want to push shit on her. I wanted her to come to me and admit her feelings for me. Except, Hazel was so damn hard headed and stubborn. She refused to admit how she felt about me until I broke down and told her. A nigga was walking around here while the one I loved was trying to find love in all the wrong niggas. Hazel always thought each nigga she dated was the one, until she ended up crying on my shoulder about how they did her wrong. When me and Hazel made shit official, she was still busting her ass and doing nails out her parent’s basement. My baby had too much talent to be doing nails in a basement. It was then that I knew shit was real between the both of us. I couldn’t see myself without Hazel.

  After I bought her salon, I wanted her to move in with me. She refused because she didn’t have a ring. Her folks were old school and wanted her to do shit the real way. They wasn’t all for her being with a fly ass bitch like myself, but I ignored their judgment. I’ve been judged my entire life and hearing it from them didn’t do shit to me. I put a ring on her pretty ass hand and then we got married soon after. We moved into our crib and been doing this shit together ever since. I loved the shit out of my wife, but her nagging got on my damn nerves. She didn’t understand that bitches came with the territory. They were gonna be on a nigga because I had money, was fly and knew I could eat the hell out some pussy. I’ve turned some of the straightest bitches gay with my tongue game. It wasn’t like I was out here cheating on her or anything like that. All I was doing was getting to the money like I’ve been raised to.

  My pops turned his gun on my moms and spilled her brains on my pink carpet.

  It was then I said fuck the color pink, fuck this carpet, fuck these pigtails and fuck my pops. This nigga took the woman he married and had children with, away from me. My mother meant the world to me, and when he did that, shit was never the same– for me at least. I went through a tough time mourning the death of my mom’s. My grandmother came to the states and did what she had to do to raise me and Yoshon. She came from Belize with barely any money and now had two mouths to feed. Yoshon did what he had to do and put his feet to the ground and got to the hustle. He hustled until his hustle paid off and opened other doors for him to continue to hustle. We went from drugs to moving guns that the military didn’t have access to. We supplied some of the most ruthless bosses in New York. The McKnight and Garibaldi empire was our biggest clients. We broke so much bread with them, they considered us family.

  When I turned seventeen, Yoshon felt it was time for me to step into the business. He trusted very few, so the fact that he brought me on told me what I already knew. It didn’t take me long to learn everything I needed to learn about our business. Yoshon wasn’t just trying to drive in foreign cars and have endless amounts of money. He instilled in me that he wanted to create generational wealth for our future kids. I didn’t see myself having any seeds, but the fact that he wanted to do that for my future nieces and nephews made me grind harder. He always told me to look at The McKnight’s. They had money for their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

  “Are you serious. Today is Saturday and you’re about to work. Ugh,” Hazel sighed and folded her arms across her chest.

  Hazel was beautiful in every way imaginable. She stood around 5’3 with light brown skin. In the winter, she was pale as hell, and in the summer, she would become this golden hue that was beautiful. She had long brown hair that stopped in the middle of her back, cat-shaped eyes and a pouty set of lips that she loved smearing all that Rihanna shit on. Petite was an understatement when it came to Hazel. I called her my Little China Doll because she was so damn small. When it came to that mouth, you would have thought she was over 6ft tall. Her ass could argue you the hell down until she was blue in the face. It was the reason I usually shut down when she kept coming at me with the bullshit.

  “Chill. I’m just checking on shit and then we heading to Yoshon’s crib. Don’t start that shit, Haze,” I warned, and she rolled her eyes.

  “All I’m saying is that I took off on the busiest day to spend time with family. You could do the same thing.”

  “Why the fuck you always coming at my neck? If you take off, you got like ten nail techs that can hold it down. I got about two solid niggas I could trust to hold shit down. One is doing a four-year bid, and the other is in the ground. Chill the fuck out!” I barked, and she slammed her back into the leather seat and kept her hands crossed.

  Killing the engine, I passed her a burner and got out to head into the trap house. When I walked in, niggas was playing the game and chilling like this was what they got paid to do. Soon as they saw the grimace on my face, they stood the fuck up and started stuttering.

  “Oh, oh, oh, cat got your fucking tongue,” I mocked them and put a hole in the nigga in the corner. This nigga was so consumed with lacing his blunt with dust that he didn’t even see me enter.

  “Yo! Yolani, you fucking wilding!” I heard Grape’s voice behind me.

  Turning around, I put the gun down on the table. “Nah, these niggas always think it’s a fucking game when I come through here. When I killed your cousin, did you think I was a fucking joke?” I questioned the nigga shaking in the corner.

  This trap was the one that brought in the least amount of money. Not to mention I had to pay off some of our detectives on the force to avoid getting it raided. We moved spots three times and niggas were always getting robbed in this one. I didn’t need to stop at the others because I already knew they were going to be good. The soldiers I picked and placed there were going to make sure the traps were held down. It was this one that I spent all my time at, and I was tired of these niggas taking me as a fucking joke.

  “Clean this shit up and make it disappear. Let this body be found and you all will be the next,” Grape sternly told them as they scattered around like roaches.

  “Y’all niggas are out here playing kid games in a grown man field!” I continued to yell. “This trap should be making as much, if not, more than all the other ones and y’all slacking,” I continued.

  Grape shook his head and nodded his head, so I could follow behind him. “You need to stop being a hot head, YoYo.” It was only a select few that could call me YoYo.

  “I’ll stop when these niggas get their shit together. Until then, I’m gonna continue to be me. I can’t even go chill with fam because I’m stopping here to check in on shit. That should never be.”

  “I hear you. I’m shutting this one down,” he revealed.

  “Who said?”

  “Now, you know I don’t need permission to run business. I’m saying that it needs to be shut down. This shit brings in barely twenty thousand a month and it’s making it hot for the ones that bring in triple that amount. It was clear that they couldn’t handle all the pressure after Big Ben got knocked.”

  “You right.”

  “Speaking of which…” he allowed his voice to trail off. I already knew what he was about to say, so I beat him
to it.

  “I’m gonna go up and see him soon.”

  “YoYo, you ain’t seen him the three years he been in there. Making sure his fam and books are taken care of are enough,” he lectured me.

  “I hate seeing my nigga down like that.”

  “It happens. Make your way up there. Big Ben knows you, so he ain’t hurt or anything, but you need to go and have a talk with him.”

  “I will. When you want to close this hellhole down?”

  “Burning this shit down with these niggas in it. Can’t have them talking and running their mouths. They already knew, blood in and blood out.” He dapped me and headed to his whip. “I’m heading to Yos’s crib, so you need to be heading your ass there too.”

  “Got you.” I nodded and went back into the crib. “Stop. I need to say a prayer with y’all.” I told them.

  These niggas were about to die tonight so I needed to pray for their ass. They knew what it was when you got down with the Santana’s. “Pray? The fuck?” One of them questioned, confused.

  “Nigga, did I fucking stutter? You Muslim or something?”

  “Nah, nah, nah,” he stuttered and came to the circle as I stood in the middle.

  “Father, watch over these nig… men as they make the trip to you. Make sure they have enough snacks, and if they’re going to hell, then I won’t question your decision. Amen.” They were all staring at me, confused as fuck.

  “You acting like we ‘bout to die tomorrow or something,” the oldest one chuckled as he went to continue wrapping the body up.

  “Shit, you never know when the Lord may call you home,” I got all spiritual and shit. “Oh, go ahead and put that body in the backroom.”

  “Word? Thank you, Yolani. I sure didn’t feel like driving to Delaware to dump this shit,” he sighed in relief.

  “Don’t mention it.” I headed to the door. “Oh, God loves y’all.” I left with those parting words and laughed as I headed to the car.

  Hazel was on the phone and ended the call when I got into the car. “You ready now?”

  “Who the fuck you was talking to?”

  “Why?”

  “You hanging up soon as I get in the whip. Who the fuck was it, Haze?”

  “It was one of my clients. She wanted to make sure I confirmed her for an appointment,” she explained. “Damn, you all in my business.”

  “You ain't got no damn business. The day you married me it became our business.”

  “Whatever. Can we go? I know Pit Pat making her bomb ass macaroni salad,” She smacked her lips as she thought about the food that my grandmother was making today.

  “Greedy ass!” I joked as I started the car and pulled off. I knew I was more than a few hours late, but Yoshon knew that business came first and that my lateness was justified.

  4

  Yoshon

  “You always arriving to a function late as fuck,” I took a pull from my blunt and passed it on to my nigga, Grape.

  Yolani and Hazel arrived damn near three hours late. Grape had showed up two hours ago and told me everything that went down at the trap house. I wasn’t in the streets like I used to be, but I had my eyes and ears out there handling shit for me. Grape had been my nigga since elementary school. We did everything together and made a lot of money too. When I first started getting money, I brought Grape on. He too came from a household where his grandmother was raising him and his little sister. See, Grape’s sister was twenty and in college. After his grandmother passed away, it was up to him to make sure his sister was straight. He made sure he stayed on her ass for school and now she was in medical school. I wished Yolani would have pursued college, but she wasn’t into that shit like that. Soon as I saw her acting out, I pulled her under my wing and showed her the family business. It kept her more than busy and she had showed me some things that could be useful to the business.

  “Money always calls. You already know I wasn’t going to come until I checked in on shit,” she replied and plopped down in the seat next to mine.

  We all sat out on the balcony and stared at the lake behind my crib. This was one of the reasons I bought the crib. When I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, I would come out here and smoke some herb to mellow my mood out. Today was the day that I buried my fiancée. She died three years ago from cancer. The shit hit me hard each time I thought about how much I missed the shit out of her. We were supposed to move into this crib together, get married and then fill this crib with children. Instead, it was just me and my grandmother, Pit Pat, that occupied this six-bedroom, seven-bathroom crib. On the day that she died and her birthday, I always put flowers on her grave and let some balloons up for her.

  “It ain't always about the money. Some shit is worth more than money and I’m tired of telling you that shit,” I reminded her.

  My sister reminded me so much of myself when I was her age. Money was the motive, and I didn’t give a damn about anybody when it came to the dead presidents on that green cloth. It was plenty times I played Ashleigh to go and chase paper. While I was so busy chasing money, my girl was about to walk out the door on me. She didn’t give a damn about all the money I was out trying to make for us. She cared about me and I was letting her down by always answering the street’s calls. Yolani had a wife, and she constantly ran the streets like she didn’t have a woman at home that loved her. It was a constant issue in their relationship and Yolani liked to push it off like Hazel was the one tripping.

  “Man, I gotta mortgage and shit to pay. It’s always about the damn money.”

  Pit Pat always said she was just like our mother. Stubborn, determined and feisty. “You need to stop running every time these niggas call. Trust that I hired a good enough team to take care of shit.”

  “Those knuckleheads can’t handle shit.”

  While Yolani loved to focus on the trap houses we had around the city, I focused on the bigger picture. I had warehouses and offices around the city and some in New Jersey where I was conducting illegal business like it was legal. I had men that served in the army, housewives wanting to be safe and a bunch of other people that copped guns from us. Yolani wanted to cop work from the McKnight’s and start supplying that so I supported her. Drugs wasn’t where I made most of our money, so I didn’t get her anger when she vented about the traps. A nigga wasn’t stupid and made sure to make legal moves too. I owned four McDonalds, three gas stations, two 7/11 convenience stores and a tanning salon. White people loved to tan the shit out their skin. Not to mention, I had a few condos in the city that I bought that I just used to rent out on travel sites. These people paid bank to stay in a condo right in the mid of the city or Brooklyn. Still, I was lowkey and didn’t stay showing my face in the hood. The only time I came to the hood was for the monthly meetings that Yolani wanted to hold. I showed my face so they knew that I backed my sister.

  “Sorry we were late,” Hazel came out onto the balcony with a plate of food. She sat on her wife’s lap. “Pit Pat knows how to make some damn food.” She smacked on the macaroni and cheese.

  “Y’all always late to something. Shit, you were late to your own wedding.”

  “Shut up,” she giggled. “How do you feel?” She stared at me and stopped picking in her food.

  “I’m good. Wish she was here, but I already know she ain't coming back. Just gotta keep pushing through.”

  “Yeah, I know. You do need to get out there and date again, Yos.” Hazel always felt like she needed to hook me up.

  She tried to hook me up with her workers at the shop and that shit failed. All these women saw was the money and didn’t give a damn about me. Was it so hard to find a bitch that didn’t want to suck my dick for a shopping spree? The shit pissed me the fuck off and made me not deal with chicks. I wasn’t the type of nigga that was just gonna be giving dick out because I wanted some pussy. A nigga was stingy with the dick and only one chick got the dick when I felt like getting some. The only reason she got it was because I felt like I could possibly build with her
. Eva was some bomb little chick I had met at the bank. She worked there and would let me in my safety deposit box the few times I stopped by there.

  Shorty was concerned about work and wasn’t trying to toss her pussy at me soon as I walked through the door. After seeing her a few times, I had gave her my number. We went on a few dates and fucked whenever she came over. Eva wanted more, and I wanted to give her more except I couldn’t. It had been six months since we met, and she was pushing to add a label to what we had. Each time the topic was brought up, she would storm out my crib with an attitude. I wouldn’t hear from her for a few days; then we would patch shit up and go in the same circle. Pit Pat wasn’t a fan of any girl since Ashleigh had passed. She didn’t like any woman coming through the front door of my crib. With Eva, she welcomed her with open arms and loved having her around. That should have been enough for me to make her mine. It wasn’t. Hazel and Yolani didn’t come to my crib often to know about Eva. Pit Pat only met her because she lived with me.

  “Nah, I’m chilling right now. When I’m ready, then I’ll find the right one,” I told her, and she rolled her eyes.

  “You over here acting like you young, Yoshon. You’re thirty-eight, and you want a wife and kids, how the fuck is that supposed to happen? It’s been three years sin—”

  “Chill the fuck out, Hazel. You over here pushing the nigga into a relationship on the anniversary his fiancée died. Chill the fuck out!” Yolani barked and Hazel stood up.