The Pussy Trap Read online

  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

  60 Evergreen Place

  Suite 904

  East Orange, New Jersey 07018

  973-678-9982

  www.wclarkpublishing.com

  Copyright 2011 © by Ne Ne Capri

  All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  ISBN 13-digit 978-0-982841488

  ISBN 10-digit 0-9828414-8-5

  Library of Congress Catalog Number 2011917469

  Urban, New Jersey, New York, Bronx, Brooklyn, Orange, NJ, African-American, Street Lit – Fiction

  Cover design and layout by Oddball Design

  Book interior design by Nuance Art

  [email protected]

  Contributing Editors: VIP Editing and Rosalind Hamilton

  Printed in United States

  Green & Company Printing, LLC

  www.greenandcompany.biz

  Dedication

  This project is dedicated to My Princess Khairah. Everything I do is for you. Mommy loves you.

  Acknowledgements

  All the thanks must first go to the most high that gives me the strength to do all things. I cannot go forward without thanking My Beloved, you made me a woman, thank you.

  To my grandmother Sarah, you gave me unconditional, selfless love without judgment I miss you, R.I.P Nana. To my Uncle Nigee you are more like a dad then an uncle thanks for being there. To My dad Hasan, you are one of the strongest men I know; you taught me what a man is thank you for all your sacrifices. Mommy, your daughter is about to be a Lawyer, I could not have done it without you. To my little brother Ralphie “IRoka” you my baby I love you we will always have the wooden wall.

  To Mrs. Wahida Clark, you are a strong, dedicated woman whose word is strong as oak you do what you say, thanks for being the woman you are. Nobel you have got me through so much I am blessed you are in my life. Wahida aka “Nuance” your brilliant. Hasana I admire you. To My best friend’s Tiko and Tiombe we have been through the fire, thank you for all the memories and the bond that can never be broken AT&T forever. Chucky you know you my big brother. Princess you are the sister I never had love you, these chicks better be glad you hung up your gloves. Mooka can’t wait for my baby Kiss the Smiling One (Boobie), Khair my son, Nagee capricorn, Shawn, Sabrina, Qadir and Jawhar, Bruce, Kim Rashad love you. Aunt Jackie My Queen you keep us together. Love you Uncle Neval.

  To the Rest of my family: Keisha Steel “my sister” you a genius girl. My little sister Angel “Cherry” my baby girl you are my motivation I pray you become the beautiful woman you are destined to be. My cousins, Nikki and Moreen love you. My big Brother Malik “Whip Wop” Williams I miss you boy. Mrs. Wright I will never forget all that you have done for me love you R.I.P. My girls Shamell, Trice, Tanisha, Lynn, Tracey, Candy. R.I.P Bizzy, Mugsy, Tez, Red, Darell, Derik, Velour, ReRe, Anthony (lil’ cousin), “Antlive”, and all fallen Soldier’s of 107 Wilson Pl., 108 Parrow St. and 339 Mechanic St. If I missed you charge it to the head and not the heart.

  To my spiritual family: it is our trials that has made us who we are, we must be grateful for each one; the blessing we are promised are going to be so plentiful we will not be able to receive them. Street Team: Omar, Jabar, Razzaq, Shahid, and Hadiyah. WCP Authors: Ca$h, Mike Sanders, Intelligent Allah, Anthony Fields, Tash Hawthorn, Missy Jackson, Serenity Hall, Victor L. Martin, Rashawn Hughs, Mike Jerfferies. WCP “Divas” you hold us down. Davida you did your thing with this cover.

  Shout out to DC Book Diva, Laquita of The Literary Joint, Horizon Books, Black and Nobel Books, T. Styles and the Cartel and all the authors, graphic artist and supports of the written word we salute you. All the authors who love this craft and make a difference “The pen is the limit.”

  *The Beginning*

  Chapter 1

  Greed is a Bitch

  Sadeek crept in the house at 4 a.m. trying not to wake Keisha. He lay on the couch and put one of his legs on the arm rest. He had just begun to doze off when he was awakened by an ice cold shower.

  “What the fuck?” Sadeek jumped up and tried to adjust his sight as water and ice cubes fell to the floor.

  “Yeah, muthafucka. You think you can just walk in my fucking house at four o’clock in the gotdamn morning and just lay your head down and go to sleep?” Keisha was pissed off. She was starting to hate even the thought of Sadeek.

  “I was taking care of some shit. You lucky I ain’t jump up and slap the shit out of you!” he yelled, walking to the kitchen and grabbing a few paper towels. Keisha was right on his heels, her black silk nighty and robe flying in the breeze.

  “Yeah right, muthafucka! You ain’t that crazy. But, you got to go,” she yelled, slamming the empty cup on the counter.

  “Go where? Why the fuck is you trippin’ at four o’clock in the fucking mornin’?” He brushed past Keisha almost knocking her into the stove. She quickly caught her balance and followed him back into the living room.

  “I don’t give a fuck what time it is or where you go. I can make a suggestion though. Start with the bitch whose pussy you just climbed out of. Go back and knock on her fucking door!” Kiesha stood in the middle of the room with hands on her hips. Lips twisted, eyes squinted, and breathing heavy.

  “I wasn’t with no bitch. I was taking care of business.” Sadeek's voice got louder. He fidgeted with his ring, avoiding eye contact as was his habit when he was lying his ass off.

  “Look, I can’t take this shit no more. You got to get the fuck out. You can leave by will or by force; you draw it up,” Keisha persisted.

  Sadeek glanced at Keisha and bit his bottom lip while rubbing his hands together as he tried to calm down. He wanted to knock the shit out of her. His fists were balled up, but he wasn’t crazy. He knew Malik would take his fucking head. More reason for him to hurry up and get rid of this nigga.

  “Step lively, muthafucka. And give me my keys.” Keisha held her hand out with major attitude.

  Sadeek reluctantly handed her the keys and headed to the door. “I guess you can go back to playing house with Malik.”

  “Don’t worry about what the fuck I do with Malik. You just worry about those dirty bitches you stick your dick in.”

  Sadeek paused then responded, “If you weren’t so busy giving my pussy to the next nigga, I wouldn’t be fucking other bitches.” He gave Keisha a dirty look and headed out the door, he figured he’d hit his boy Tone’s house.

  Keisha shut the door behind him. Sheeit . . . you damn right I’m fucking Malik and his dick is good as hell. He was all up in it the other day. She wiped up the remaining water off the floor. Headed to her bedroom, and hopped in bed. As she drifted off, she mumbled, “Fuck that nigga!”

  Later that day . . .

  Sadeek walked in the Peppermint Lounge razor sharp, sporting a pair of crisp dark colored jeans laying on top of his grey Timberland boots, a charcoal grey sweater and a light weight dark blue three quarter leather jacket. His short fade and freshly shaped mustache and goatee enhanced his smooth brown caramel skin. In Sadeek’s world, nobody could tell him shit. As he made his way to the back where Raheem was sitting, niggas were shouting him out while bitches were checking him out. He nodded, shook a few hands, and grabbed a shot of Grey Goose while passing the bar and kept on moving. When he reached Raheem’s table, he could see him dismissing this fine, brown-skinned honey. She saw Sadeek coming and rolled her eyes as she slid out the booth.

  “Don’
t be salty, shorty,” Sadeek said with a smile. The young woman just kept on going.

  “What’s up superstar nigga?” Raheem said as he extended his hand to Sadeek.

  “Sheeit. I can’t call it. It’s your world squirrel; I’m just trying to bust a nut,” he said, slapping hands with Raheem. They both busted out laughing as Sadeek slid into the booth. Raheem flagged down the waitress and ordered them some drinks.

  Sadeek and Raheem downed their drinks and laughed about Keisha throwing ice-cold water on him in the middle of the night. Retelling the story caused Sadeek's whole mood to change.

  “I hate that bitch sometimes,” he spat as he guzzled down his shot of Hennessy then chased it down with a double deuce Heineken.

  “What the fuck are you talking about ‘Deek?” Raheem said in a drunken slur.

  “Fuckin Keisha!” Sadeek said with a hateful tone.

  “Man, get the fuck outta here. You know good and well you love that girl. That’s why your ass sitting up here pouting like a fuckin’ bitch.”

  “Fuck you, Rah. She done put me out for the last fucking time.”

  “That’s what you said last time. This ain’t the fucking Oprah sofa, nigga. You betta handle that shit,” Raheem said then started laughing.

  “On the real, Rah, I think it’s time to make that move.”

  “What you talking about?” Raheem asked.

  “The way I see it, we been working for that nigga for over ten years and we still make just as much as the new jacks. He charges us like he don’t know us. Shit, the way I figure, we cut out the middleman and we could be making all the money. Just take over this whole fucking city.”

  “Nigga, you trippin’.”

  “Shit, I ain’t trippin’. What? You scared mu’fucka?”

  “Scared? Hell no, I ain’t scared of nothing or no one.” Raheem said giving Sadeek a look that said don’t you ever question my manhood.

  “A’ight then. You ready for a fucking war?”

  “Hell yeah. At any moment, but for something worth warring over. In that case, I ain’t got no problem with war. I just ain’t trying to go to war over no gotdamn pussy. Especially, if it ain’t pussy that belongs to me.”

  “This shit is way past pussy. It’s about principle. That nigga know he fucking owe us. And we ain’t sitting on the side waiting no fucking more. We getting ready to take it. You down or what?”

  The next thing that comes out his mouth better be right or he’s going on the list with Malik. Sadeek thought as he stared at Raheem.

  Raheem stared in space for a minute then took a pull on his blunt.

  “Yeah, I’m down. But make sure it’s for principle and not for greed. Because greed is a bitch,” he said.

  Raheem thought he and Sadeek had done some cruddy shit, but was he ready to help him take Malik out? Shit, for the last couple of weeks he was trying to come up with a plan to get the fuck out. Now this nigga was talking about going to war and taking over. This was some shit he would have to talk over with his main man, Nine.

  After his talk with Raheem, Sadeek put his plan in motion, which would call for a trip to Detroit. That was how he was going to get his come up and his revenge.

  ***

  Keisha was walking through Short Hills Mall with her aunt Pat bringing her up to speed on the other night when she had to check Sadeek’s ass. Pat was only ten years older than her and had raised her due to her mom dealing with an addiction.

  “Hell yeah I threw that shit on that nigga and told him to get the fuck out,” Keisha bragged.

  “Bitch, you lucky he ain’t slap your ass down,” Pat joked.

  “I’ll tell you like I told him, he ain’t that crazy,” Keisha said as they dipped into Saks Fifth Avenue and headed right for the makeup counter.

  “So how many days are you going to let pass before you let him back this time?” Aunt Pat asked. She leaned in to the mirror trying on some mascara.

  “Fuck him. I’m done. I hate to see that nigga coming; his very touch makes my fucking skin crawl,” Keisha said with apparent anger in her voice.

  “Yeah right, bitch. You say that shit all the time then that nigga be right back in there.” Pat took the time to point out.

  “Don’t judge me. I got to do what I got to do. The only reason I still fuck’s with that nigga Sadeek is because it’s good for business.” Keisha applied blush to her cheeks.

  “How is fucking Sadeek’s boss good for business? That shit is dangerous.”

  Keisha stopped dead in her tracks and looked at her aunt. “Look, I don’t get in your business, so do both of us a favor and don’t get in mine.” Keisha started to walk away, but Pat grabbed her by the arm.

  “Hold up, Key. Look, I love you. That’s the only reason why I’m saying something.”

  Keisha stopped but didn’t turn around. She took a deep breath and thought about her aunt’s words. “I know. I’m caught up, Auntie.” She paused. “I’m in love with a man I can’t have. And I hate the one that I’m with.” A tear ran down her face. She turned and grabbed a tissue from the counter and patted her cheek.

  “Regardless of what I say, I know that Malik loves you and he got your back. Just be careful, Key. Sadeek ain’t stupid . . . and he’s crazy. That is a dangerous cocktail. I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Pat said as she hugged her niece.

  “Thanks Auntie. I’m working on it.” She hugged her back.

  “A’ight bitch, let’s go ‘cause I got to put a dent in this nigga’s bank roll. Fuck what you heard, this is going to be the most expensive piece of pussy that nigga ever had,” Pat said, trying to lighten the mood as she let go of Keisha.

  “You so crazy.” Keisha laughed. As they headed to the designer purses, her Aunt Pat’s words rang out in her head “be careful.” Keisha had been feeling the danger of messing with both Sadeek and Malik for the past week and praying that all the shit she had been doing didn’t blow up in her face.

  Chapter 2

  Making a Deal

  Sadeek walked out the airport with his carry-on bag, looked around, jumped on a shuttle bus and headed to Enterprise. Within twenty minutes, he arrived at the Days Inn motel at the Metro airport in Detroit; he figured he could kill two birds with one stone by making this trip for both business and pleasure so he arranged to have Kim already there when he arrived. Kim, a bitch he’d met the last time he and Malik were there was already waiting for him in his room. Since his meeting was set for 8 p.m. with the headman, who was Malik’s connect, Sadeek figured until then, he could get his dick sucked and lay in some warm pussy. A few minutes after he walked into his room, Kim was riding the hell out of him. Once he busted his first nut, he turned over onto his stomach and prepared to doze off. “In an hour, order something to eat and then wake me up,” Sadeek told Kim.

  “No problem. Shit, you hooked me up. I’ll just return the favor.” She smiled. Turning on the television, she flicked the channels until she found something to watch and eventually dozed off.

  By seven p.m. Sadeek had eaten the Chinese food Kim had ordered and put on his clothes, boots, and jewels. He looked in the mirror and then walked over to Kim. “Are you going to be here when I get back?”

  “Hell yeah. I need to get thanked for that meal.” She flashed a pretty smile.

  Kim was definitely a dime. At 5’6”, 130 pounds, legs thick, and a shapely small waist accented with a flat toned stomach. Her 36C breasts looked ever so suckable. Her toned arms led to small manicured hands that just a few hours ago were wrapped nicely around Sadeek’s dick. She wore her shoulder length hair in a bun with a Chinese bang, accenting her pretty pear diamond shaped eyes that seemed to glisten with every blink. And oh yes, that smile.

  Sadeek smiled, grabbed her by the waist, and kissed her lips. He patted her on the butt. “I’ll see you later,” he said then headed out the door.

  It was a forty-five minute drive to Dread’s estate. When he got there he was greeted by Scarie, the go between guy. Scarie set up all the meetings
with the connects and that included more than fifteen states and two overseas spots. Of course, he was running the weed distribution in Jamaica. Dread had shit on lock and with the help of Sadeek’s greed; Scarie was getting ready to loosen some of Dread’s grip. Sadeek had only met both of them in person one time, but had been gaining notice by Scarie because of his heart and fearlessness, along with the rumor of his dissatisfaction with Malik. It would be just what he needed to set a plan of his own in action.

  Sadeek pulled up to the gate and he could not believe his eyes. The house looked like the fucking president lived there. Big willow trees and manicured lawns with ground keepers scurrying around to keep shit in order. The house had a modern castle look to it.

  Scarie waved him through the gate then it slammed closed behind him. He followed him to the house then was appointed a parking spot. Sadeek parked, got out, and shook hands with his soon to be partner. They stood trying to have a conversation when three Cadillac golf carts drove toward them. One was driven by Dread, and the other two by his bodyguards carrying AK47s. Dread was an older Jamaican dude who grew up in London then settled in Toronto, Canada. Lots of those Jamaican cats would come and run shit in Detroit. Dread stepped out of the cart and looked Sadeek up and down like: What the fuck is he doing here? He walked right past him and his bodyguards followed suit.