Page 3 of The Hellcat Barbies: Aubree
In six years, those three nuts were the only ones I busted that I didn’t cause myself. And honestly, I didn’t even like jacking off like that. I only did that shit maybe once every three or four months. It annoyed me that I even had to use a condom slidingup in some pussy for the first time in six years, but I was horny not stupid. A nigga didn’t need any babies, and I wasn’t raw dogging any woman that wasn’t mine.
Closing my eyes, visions of Aubree flashed through my mind. Or visions of what she used to look like. It had been six years since I’d last seen her. There was no telling how she may have changed over the years. It had been a long time since I’d dreamed or thought of her. But a nigga was home. Behind those gates, I conditioned myself not to think about her. Knowing that she was somewhere in this very city while I was walking around free as a bird had my mind revisiting places that I didn’t want it to.
Remembering the last time my tongue probed her mouth as she pressed her body into mine, had me releasing guttural moans and whispering that I was about to cum, despite the fact that Connie’s head was trash.
Being that she wasn’t sucking to my satisfaction, I gripped my meaty tool and began to stroke it gently. “Catch this shit,” I murmured as I felt my seed rushing to the tip of my dick. “Fuuccck,” I grunted just as she squealed and jumped off the bed causing my semen to shoot across the bed.
She was childish as fuck. This was definitely the last time I pulled my dick out and wasted my time with her.
“For real yo?” I eyed her with a frown.
We were in her bedroom, and she had to clean the mess up. I didn’t care whether she caught it or not, but I was stunned that all the shit she’d talked over the years had been cap. She wanted to be the first person I had sex with when I came home because she really believed the myth that the first piece of pussy a man got when he came home from a bid would have him sprung. I was dead ass serious when I said that Connie’s pussy wouldn’t have me open if she was the last person on earth.
“I didn’t want it to get in my mouth,” she looked down at the mess on the carpet.
With a shake of my head, I walked into the bathroom to clean up. I had been home for two days, and the extent of my bullshitting was coming to an end. I got fresh, ate good, got drunk, smoked some premium gas, and I busted a few nuts. It was time to get down to business. Thank God for my best friend, Cook. He had two cars, and he was letting me push his Lexus until I got a car of my own. My brother, Ishon had a Range Rover when he died, but my mother didn’t know where his stash was, and she had to sell his vehicle to pay for the funeral.
The fact that my brother died four years into my bid fucked with me every day. I would never get over it. Giving the state six years of my life and missing so much shit had me hesitant to get back into anything illegal, but I needed money, and I needed it fast. One of my homies had put in a good word on my behalf with an OG named Chicago. He owned a boxing gym, and he hired me to be one of the instructors for a boxing fitness class. I would be teaching the 12:00-12:45 class, and the 1:30-2:30 class. He had other instructors and basically just wanted to look out for me until I found something else.
Chicago was a real one for sure, because he was going to pay me $200 a day, five days a week to teach two classes. $1,000 a week for less than three hours of work a day was a blessing. If I just sold a little dope, I could get a car and my own place in less than three months. Cook sold weed, and he had a job at a security company. The job at the security company allowed him to get a mortgage, car, etc. in his name and pay the bills. The money he made selling weed allowed him to live a comfortable life and not be broke as hell as soon as the mortgage and other bills were paid.
When Cook picked me up from prison, there were six shopping bags with clothes and shoes inside the car for me. Healso handed me a cell phone and $3,500. I needed to get a haircut and some boxer briefs and shit, but since I was covered on the phone, clothes, shoes, and socks, most of the $3,500 was going toward a car. Once I got a car, I’d get my own place.
When I arrived at my mom’s house, she was asleep. My mother was a schoolteacher. On the weekdays, she was in bed by 10:45 and on the weekends, she barely made it past 11:30. I felt guilty every time I thought about the fact that my mom only had two sons and at one point, we were both gone away from her, and she was out here in the world without either of us. That fucked me up. Especially since our pops was murdered when I was ten. The police killed him after he robbed a bank.
With six years in prison, I had nothing but time on my hands. I came up with an idea to start a YouTube channel dedicated to science. I loved science. If I had the patience for college, I could have been an aerospace engineer, biologist, chemist, pharmacist, and some mo’ shit. I knew a YouTube channel wouldn’t pay the bills at first. Shit, it might never pay the bills. But when I heard how much money people like Ms. Rachel were making singing songs and teaching people’s kids I thought why not? I could walk kids through various projects and at home, they could try it themselves for fun or for a school assignment. I also wanted to teach science facts in a fun way to help kids grasp the concept better.
I never had to play hard for anybody. I was what I was, and I was who I was. I liked fast money, and I had respect in the streets. However, I was also smart, and I wasn’t interested in playing dumb for anybody. That didn’t mean people would understand my vision or my desire to teach kids about science, so I kept the plan to myself. I knew I needed to stop bullshitting and get started on it.
As I walked to the bedroom that I was occupying, I glanced up at the ceiling. Standing in place, I glared up at the attic door.As if Ish was in the afterlife whispering in my ear, something strong as hell was telling me to go in that attic. I wasn’t sure if things changed once I got locked up, but Ish used to use the attic as his stash spot. He always said if something happened to him, he didn’t want the wrong person going in his apartment getting his things.
As I made a move to grab the reacher that my mom used to pull the attic door open, my mouth went dry. I wasn’t sure what I was nervous about. If I found anything, it wouldn’t make me happy. I didn’t want material possessions or even money. I wanted my brother. But if there was anything of his in the attic, I damn sure wasn’t leaving it there. Trying not to make any noise, I slowly climbed the ladder that led to the opening of the attic. Once I was inside, I looked around at all the boxes of Christmas decorations, other seasonal décor, and some boxes of things that belonged to my father.
The attic was spacious, but there wasn’t enough room in it for me to stand to my full height of 6’1. Easing toward a corner, I looked around boxes and plastic bins. “Bingo,” I mumbled when I found Ish’s medium sized black safe. It was behind the box with the Christmas tree in it.
As long as Ish hadn’t changed the code, I would be able to get into the safe easy. The code was his birthday then mine. With bated breath, I punched the numbers in and when the door swung open, I exhaled a deep breath.
Stacks of money and two square packages were tucked away inside the safe. Grabbing a stack of cash, I saw that each stack inside the safe was in $10,000 increments. After sifting through all of the stacks, I counted $40,000. Money and coke. I could take some of the money and buy a camera. One with good quality. I would have to wait until I started work to give my mom some money. She sold Ish’s car, and she’d been using what was left for bills, but she wasn’t a fan of spending drug money. If shefound out that Ish had money and drugs hidden in her home, she’d have a heart attack. Teachers didn’t make as much as they should, but my mother was blessed. She loved teaching, and she was able to live a comfortable life with the salary she made. My mom was the type that felt like if she took money from me and Ish then she was basically condoning what we were doing, and she made it clear every chance she got that she absolutely despised the way we made money. I damn sure wasn’t trying to see another day in jail or prison, but I damn sure wasn’t about to let good coke go to waste.
The next day when I left Chicago’s gym, I was on my way to Cook’s house when the car sitting idle beside me at a red light began to blow the horn. Looking over to see who or what they were blowing at, I saw the passenger side window rolling down. My brows dipped at the realization that in an effort not to go back to prison, I didn’t have any heat on me. That was dangerous as hell, and I made a mental note to get a gun ASAP.
Turned out, the person blowing at me didn’t have beef. I noticed one of my brother’s friends, Nice trying to get my attention. I rolled my window down just as the light turned green.
“Go to that store right there,” Nice shouted while pointing at the gas station up ahead.
With a subtle nod, I turned on my turn signal and merged into the turning lane. Nice was cool from what I knew, but he’d always been Ish’s friend. We were cordial by default. My gut twisted as I thought about Ish. It would never sit right with me that my brother was no longer among the living. When I walked out of prison, he was supposed to be there on the opposite sideof those gates waiting on me with a big grin on his face. We were close in age. Only a year apart. When we were coming up, some people thought we were fraternal twins. I was the odd man out with red hair and freckles while Ish had peanut butter colored skin, light brown eyes, and thick coarse hair that he kept in braids.
Ish and I were both knee deep in the streets, and we knew all that came with it. Even still, finding out that he’d been murdered was like a punch to the gut. Some lame nigga pumped my brother full of bullets and left him dead in his car. There had been no leads, and I hadn’t heard anything about who may have done it. Robbery was always a motive, but jealousy could have played a part too. If it wasn’t personal beef, a robbery, or some envious shit, I wasn’t sure why my brother would have been killed. God knew how badly I didn’t want to go back to prison, but if I ever found out who killed my brother, it would be over for their ass, and I wouldn’t even care if I got caught.
I pulled into the gas station with Nice right behind me. We exited our vehicles simultaneously, and he walked over to me with a broad grin on his face. “Damn, nigga. We supposed to be like family. Why didn’t you reach out and tell me you were home?”
Reaching out to Nice had never crossed my mind. Again, he was cool, but we’d never been friends. “It’s only been a few days. I’m just trying to get my shit together. Gotta start over from scratch you know?”
“I definitely feel that. This your whip?”
“Nah. It’s Cook’s. He’s letting me drive it until I get one.”
Nice bobbed his head. “Well listen, you know Ish was like a brother to me and if he was here, you coming home would have been a movie. It would be my honor to do at least half of what I know he would.” Nice reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash.
