A Thug's Wife (Full Length Novel) Read online

  The moment she stepped foot on the top step; she could smell the weed aroma coming from inside. Pulling the door opened, she stepped into the house, and there sat Devon shirtless with a blunt hanging from the tip of his mouth with the lower half of his body wrapped in a towel.

  "Baby, what are you doing here? And what I tell you about smoking that shit in the living room? I can smell it all the way outside."

  "I lost my job today," Devon said stoically.

  "Excuse me?"

  "They found out the real reason I'm on probation and they let me go. Told you this nine to five shit ain't for me."

  "Baby fuck them. You can go and get another job just like you got that one. Now is not the time to give up. I stopped by a fertility doctor on my way home today and met this amazing couple in the waiting area. They said they had been trying to get pregnant--"

  "There you go with that baby shit again. I’m not trying to hear that shit today, Yessenia. Save it."

  "Well I just thought that you might like to know that I finally found somebody that could help us get pregnant. I’m not going back to Dr. Attaway. I know that this doctor I found is our last hope."

  "I’m not trying to have a fucking baby right now! You think I wanna bring a shorty into this world only making $7.50 a damn hour. How the fuck can we raise a child on that shit when we barely making it ourselves?"

  "It’s possible. My mother did it and so did your mother. If I gotta pick up another job then I will. I want this baby Devon, and you will find a better job."

  "Nobody wants to hire a convicted damn felon that’s still on probation! We got plenty of time to have kids, but now is not the time for that."

  Devon stood to his feet. He took a huge tug on the blunt and blew a thick cloud of the green in the air. Clasping his towel tightly around his waist, he prepared to leave the room when Yessenia stood in front of him.

  Yessenia stared up at her husband’s 6’3 frame and placed her hands on his large pecs to stop him from leaving. She ran her fingers through his beard and looked into his huge, round brown eyes.

  She admired his cocoa brown skin and knew that she was the luckiest woman in the world. Devon was so beautiful to her, and she loved every bit of him from the inside out. She knew that life had been frustrating from him starting when he tore his ACL in high school, tearing a hole into his dream of ever having a chance in the NFL.

  Devon had a very promising career as a linebacker and was well on his way to the top when the physical injury he suffered put a stump in those plans. Devon took it hard and was devastated when he found out that he would most likely never be able to play football again and just like every young black man in the hood when all hopes of their dreams have been lost, he took to the streets.

  He started hustling alongside Quasym and was doing alright for himself until someone tried to rob him. In the end, he ended up shooting the guy in the back, leaving him paralyzed and Devon facing major time in prison. Fortunately for him, due to the circumstances and the fact that it was his first offense, the judge ordered him to serve ten years on probation.

  He’d gotten off lucky and was able to fly under the radar ever since then. It wasn’t until he met Yessenia and her constant talks over time that she inspired him to do something different with his life. She had given him a better view on things and had him thinking that walking a straight line might not be so bad, but now after being fired from his third job in less than a year, he was starting to feel different.

  He knew that Yessenia hated any time he mentioned going back to the streets so, for now; he wasn’t even gonna tell her that it was going to happen. He hated to hide things from her, but she wouldn’t understand.

  There was no way he was going to go back to flipping burgers making only pennies when he could be making so much more. He was tired of slaving and tired of muthafuckas denying him a decent job because of his past. Today was the last day he allowed anyone to tell him that he was less than ‘cause he was black with a record. He was about to make his own way, and he was glad that his boy Quasym had been feeling the same as he did.

  Yessenia kissed Devon’s thin lips and wrapped her arm around his head pulling him in closer to her. She slid her tongue through the small opening of his mouth and caressed the flavor of the grape cigarillo. She reached down and removed the towel from his waist and then got down her knees. She lived to please this man. If she didn’t then, she was sure that someone else would, and she wouldn’t even give them the satisfaction. She devoured all eight and a half inches of Devon’s dick allowing his length to touch the back of her throat.

  "Damn!" Devon inhaled deeply as he looked up toward the ceiling. He placed the blunt into his mouth and gripped Yessenia’s head with both hands. His toes began to curl as she held a vice grip on his dick while pulling it in and out of her mouth. His wife gave the best head he had ever had. It was like she had a point to prove each time she sucked him up, and he loved every minute of it.

  "Mmmmh! Mmmh!" Yessenia moaned as she went up and down on Devon’s dick with her mouth. The sounds she was making was as if she was consuming one of the best meals of her life. She rotated her hands around his shaft like she was grinding pepper. Her head bobbed up and down quickly, and she placed one hand on his thigh feeling his muscles tighten and loosen as she worked her magic on him.

  "Ohhhhh! Fuck baby! Suck that dick ma’!" Devon shook his head and closed his eyes. He was on the verge of releasing, and the sensations from the back of Yessenia’s throat tickling the tip of his dick had him wanting to speak in tongues. He tightened the grip he had on Yessenia and began to pump his dick in and out of her mouth. It was so warm and wet that he’d lost all control. "Ahhhh! Mmmh! Mmh!"

  Yessenia began to moan louder as Devon spilled his seeds into her mouth. She swallowed every bit of it, not letting one drop escape from her lips. When she was done, she licked Devon clean, and then patted him on his leg. "Go wash off baby while I make you some lunch."

  "Damn, baby you gonna have a nigga around here knocked the hell out," Devon said as he pulled Yessenia to her feet. "We gonna have that baby, okay? Just give me some time to make shit better around here, and we can have all the babies you want."

  Yessenia only nodded her head. She heard everything he said, but it was the same thing that he always said. He always told her to wait, and she was tired of waiting. She wanted a baby and wanted one now.

  Chapter 5: Get That Money Baby

  Whoaaaa! I like smoking weed, I like getting fly. I like having sex, I like girls who ride. I like my cup my full, I like turning up. And I like brand new shit, so this is what I love to do. I like that money baby, money baby, money baby, money baby. Quasym sat back in his seat blowing smoke as the lyrics to K. Camps’s song Money Baby poured through the speakers.

  The past few days had been hell for him and for the life of him he couldn’t understand why Zaria married him. He hadn’t seen or talked to her since they said, "I do" at the altar and departed from the church. She had told him that he wasn’t allowed back in the house until she felt comfortable being in his presence again. He’d been sleeping on his mama’s floor in the projects, and the shit was disturbingly uncomfortable for him.

  As much as he wanted to see his daughter Quita, he wouldn’t dare go near Tianna’s house after the stunt she pulled at the wedding. He didn’t know what had come over her or what possessed her to show up at the ceremony like that. They had never discussed the two of them being together, and she had a boyfriend. He didn’t know what the hell was going through her head and figured it was best that he stayed away for a while.

  As he sat in his car, all he could think about was how hard life had been for him over the past few years. It hadn’t been his fault that he’d gone to jail for robbery. He had taken one of his cousins to the store for him to rob the place without Quasym’s knowledge. His lawyer had done everything they could to get him off, but the fact alone that he was there made him an accessory to the crime. He’d received a 5-year sentence and only
had to do half of the time.

  All the money he had before was exhausted on lawyer fees, leaving nothing for his girl Zaria to take care of the house. Fortunately Zaria was strong and was able to handle things, but he hated the fact that she had to work so hard in order to do so.

  Quasym had promised her every day that soon as he got home from prison he would make things right, but it hadn’t been as easy as he thought. Everyone that he thought he had in his corner had turned their backs on him and was too busy racking paper without him. Niggas loved to see him down and wasn’t anybody trying to give him a chance to get back on his feet.

  Tap! Tap!

  Quasym jumped at the sound of someone tapping on his window. He’d been so deep into his thoughts that he didn’t even notice them coming. Damn I’m slipping. Nigga could’ve put one in my head, and I wouldn’t have even seen it coming. Quasym thought as he rolled his window down.

  "Andres will see you now. Get out," the guard ordered and pulled on the door to open it.

  Quasym put his blunt out in the ashtray, stepped out of the car, and was tossed roughly against the hood. As bad as he wanted to check the dude for roughing him up, he thought better of it upon seeing the sniper rifles that was stealthily trained on him. He had been sitting outside of Andres Botticelli’s house waiting to see him.

  Andres was one of the most powerful men in the world, if not the most powerful. When Quasym requested to meet with him, he was fully expecting to be turned away considering he was a far cry from the bosses that Andres normally dealt with. But when Andres had agreed, Quasym was truly surprised and honored. The only problem was when he’d arrived, Andres told him that he was busy and that he would have to wait before he could see him. That had been fourteen hours ago, and Quasym had waited out every minute of it. He needed this meeting with Andres and needed it bad.

  "I ain’t got anything on me mane, got damn!" Quasym complained as the guard ran his hands up and down him checking for any weapons.

  "Shut up before I make you wait longer," the guard said and then turned to walk away. "Follow me!"

  Quasym followed the guard down the long driveway that led to the exquisitely built home. The house was huge, at least several acres wide from what Quasym could see from the front of the house. He could only imagine what the inside of the home looked like.

  As the guard moved up the steps that led up to the doorway, Quasym stood back frozen with astonishment. He had never seen anything like this before besides in the movies. He knew that Andres had to be getting paper on a major scale, and he wanted in. He dreamed of the day he could have a house like this if only half the size.

  The guard cleared his throat and Quasym quickly climbed the steps and went inside the house. The ceiling was the first thing that caught his attention. It was so high unlike the ceiling in his home where he felt if he grew another inch or two he would be too tall to fit in his own home. The floors were marble and shiny and the decor was expensive in taste. Quasym was thoroughly impressed.

  "In here," the guard pulled the door to Andres’ downstairs office open and directed Quasym to go inside. Upon entering, Quasym shook his head at the fact the office was bigger than his house. Andres had to put him on. "Have a seat! He will be with you shortly."

  Quasym nodded his head and then walked over to the Italian Leather sofa and sat down. He held his head down in his palms hoping all would go in his favor with Andres. He needed this opportunity to get back up on his feet and to take care of his wife and his child with Tianna. If this didn’t work out, Quasym didn’t know what he was going to do with himself.

  "How did you get my address?" Andres asked as he entered the office.

  Quasym looked up and was surprised by what stood in front of him. He had been expecting a short or fat old man that was balding and struggling to get around on his own. Instead, Andres looked to be in great shape, around 5’8, weighing a healthy hundred and fifty pounds. He had a low cut with minimal facial hairs. Andres didn't look any more than 30 to 40 years old.

  Damn I watch too much TV. Quasym thought as he stood to his feet to greet the man that could change his life. "I uh, my patna gave it to me. I mean I tried to call you several times but could never get an answer. Sorry to just stop by like this, but I really need to talk to you."

  "Your patna? And what does your patna know about me?"

  "He just told me I need to talk to you."

  "So you've been waiting all this time just to talk to me?" Andres asked as he moved towards the huge cherry wood desk. He grabbed a bottle of water that was in a mini fridge and opened it, taking a long sip from the bottle, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

  "No thank you sir. I wanted to talk to you about...well I wanted to see if we could do--"

  "Dan-D, I want him dead. Kill him and the kingdom is yours."

  Quasym was notably confused. He didn't know what to say. He only wanted to discuss doing business with Andres since no one in the streets was trying to put him on. Everyone felt like he should work from the very bottom, doing petty shit that would only garner him a few hundred dollars a week, and that wasn’t enough. He was better than that and knew he could move the work on a major level if only he could get his hands on it. He had no plans of murdering anybody for it though. This request was unusual, and he didn’t quite understand it.

  "You want to be the big man in the streets, right? You want to make big money, drive nice cars, have a big house-" Andres motioned his hand around his office. "This life? What are you willing to do for it? Did you think that you would come in here, tell me about yourself, and how you feel you would be a great asset to me and then I would agree to do business with you?

  I don’t know you or anything about you. What I see is that you are obviously determined, seeing as how you sat outside of my home for fourteen hours and twenty-seven minutes. But how far will you let that determination take you? Dan-D, I want him dead. Do that and then we will talk."

  Andres took another sip of his water and sat in the oversized chair behind his desk. He watched as Quasym stood in the middle of the office for a few moments contemplating on what he was going to say next. Andres hadn’t been completely honest though. He knew exactly who Quasym was. There was no way he would allow anyone that he didn’t know to sit outside of his home for any amount of time. They would be murdered and never heard from again. But Quasym was different. Andres had plans for him and Quasym didn’t even know it.

  ***

  It was a few hours later, and Quasym sat quietly in his car staring into the dark and cold streets. The conversation he had with Andres earlier that day played in his mind over and over again. He stared down at the pistol that sat in his lap, silently weighing his options. He knew that with one pull of the trigger would be life changing. He could and would have everything that his heart desired, but he didn’t know if this was the way he wanted to get it.

  Quasym had never been the type to play the game dirty, but as he thought about his relationship with Zaria and the fact that he could barely provide for her, it killed him on the inside. He wanted the money, and he wanted the street fame, but more than anything, he wanted to take care of his wife and to give his child everything.

  He had only been nineteen when he’d gotten locked up and was just starting to make a name for himself. Niggas was just starting to respect his hustle and make room for him when he’d got knocked and sent away for those two and a half years. Now no one wanted anything to do him unless they could boss him around in order to feel superior. No one wanted to give him a fair chance to get money like he knew how, and that was something he wanted them to regret. Quasym knew of his capabilities and how he could flip anything, but it was hard to flip something when you had nothing.

  Maybe I do gotta force my way into this shit. Make these niggas respect me. Quasym thought to himself. He knew what he had to do, but the shit just wasn't sitting right with him, no matter how he looked at it, he felt he needed to make these niggas see him since they was choosing to look the othe
r way, but would they respect him if they knew what he'd done?

  The bright headlights that shined through the back of Quasym’s window caused him to jump out of the daydream he was having. He tucked his pistol in his waistband and pulled his shirt down over it. His pulse rate sped up tremendously as he thought about whether or not he wanted to go through with this. The moment he pulled the trigger there was no taking it back; he would have signed a deal with the devil and his soul would no longer be his.

  Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, Quasym contemplated starting his car and just leaving. Besides, Andres didn’t give him any details. He didn’t say why he’d wanted Dan-D dead. He could’ve easily done it himself considering he had an army of goons trained to go. This was a war that he had nothing to do with.

  What am I even doing here? Just as he went to turn the key in the ignition, Dan-D tapped on the window and shot Quasym a strange look. Letting out a deep breath, Quasym stared straight ahead and hated that he had even made the call to Dan-D. He hated that he had even considered Andre’s proposition, but as he turned to look up at Dan-D standing outside of his car, he suddenly felt different.

  The diamonds around Dan-D’s neck lit up the night sky, and Quasym knew that Dan-D was getting paid on major levels. He nodded his head, removed the key from the ignition, and stepped out of the car. He glanced over at the BMW X5 truck with custom made chrome rims and cringed. It was the life that Quasym wanted-it was the life that he needed. He imagined himself riding in something similar and Zaria driving the streets in something way better. He had to do this. There was no other choice.

  "What up tho’?" Dan-D greeted. He stuck his hand out, placing it into Quasym’s while giving him a brotherly hug. He hadn’t seen Quasym since before he’d gotten locked up, and he could tell that he was hurting. The beat up Chevy he was driving smelled like burnt oil, and the paint was severely chipped. "Ain’t heard from you in a minute youngn’, what it look like bruh?"