3. Royce “Turk” Atkins
Royce “Turk” Atkins
This is probably the worst head I ever got. Dry ass mouth. She not deep throating at all. And if her teeth graze me one more time I’m liable to give the ho a purple nurple.
I shouldn’t even be doing this. I told myself twenty-eight was a new start. That means, no more fucking the help. But Naomi called herself going through my phone again so I iced her out, and I ain’t busted a nut in five days. I’m backed the fuck up.
The newest employee at my strip club Paradise, Tasty, is so into this bullshit performance she can’t even see me roll my eyes. This is all Naomi’s fault. I’m blocking her ass.
“Aight, lil mama.” I tap the top of her wig like a dog and scoot back, making my dick slide out her mouth. My shit not even hard, so I really don’t get how she was that enthusiastic about gnawing on a gummy worm. “You gotta go.”
“But, you didn’t come.” She stands, and I’m almost eye level with her pussy since she has on her high ass clear stilettos. She’s got a tongue tattooed right next to it on her pelvis, but that’s not what makes my stomach sour.
“I know, but you need to take care of that asap. No taco meat on the floor.”
Her butterscotch complexion turns beet red as she rushes out, nearly running into Nut as I put my dick back in my pants. I can wash up later; if Nut is gracing me with his presence in Paradise, then this is urgent.
“I thought yo ass was giving up hoes?” Nut smirks as he takes a seat across from me.
I’m still not used to my bro having short hair again, or him being all around happy.
When his baby mama Tati passed right after giving birth to their daughter, we all felt it, and to be honest, I was worried.
I refuse to even imagine a world without my cinnamon apple, so I was ready to pull my bro off the deep end if he went over.
But surprisingly, he never did. And now that he and Dallas are doing they shit, the light bright nigga damn near glowing.
“Bad habits are hard to break,” I shrug. “Waddup, though? Dallas would whoop yo ass if she knew you were here.”
Nut smirks before taking out his airpods and his phone out his pocket.
“I’m allowing this meeting ‘cause it’s urgent, and my man knows to keep his eyes on the ground.”
When he turns his phone around, Dallas is scowling at me, wearing her signature lavender, from where I’m guessing is her desk. But then she grins and waves, making me chuckle.
“Waddup, sis. You know Nutty crazy ass only has eyes for you.”
She blushes and rolls her eyes as Nut snatches the phone back to him.
“I know you ain’t blushing at another nigga, bae.”
“Patrick, we’re talking about you.”
“So? You know what? I’ll call you when I’m leaving the office.”
“And not a second after, nigga.”
I chuckle as Nut ends his call and slides his phone back into his pocket. “Both of y’all are batshit crazy.”
This nigga just sighs with a goofy ass smile on his face. “My Choc was made for me. I would put a baby in her but everybody and they mama pregnant right now. Speaking of… why you got Autumn blocked?”
My dick twitches to life like it always does when I hear, think, or see my cinnamon apple.
She’s had a hold on me for twenty years.
As a young shorty, I didn’t even understand it, the visceral need to be around her, be her everything, even if she rejected me at every turn.
One look in those hazel eyes and she had me hooked.
We had to have been lovers in a past life.
This shit with her transcends any and everything.
I don’t take shit seriously, by choice. The life I live it’s easier that way, always has been.
Autumn Night Shaw is the exception to that rule.
She’s the exception to each and every one of my rules.
But she’s playing with me. Her and her girlfriend. And to stop myself from taking it there, I had to do something drastic, like block my cinnamon apple.
It’s not like I don’t have a clone of her phone, anyway.
I generally don’t discuss what I got with my baby mama with any of my friends.
What started as keeping her to myself grew into not bothering to explain something neither one of us could really put into words, especially when she started proclaiming she didn’t like men.
The only people who knew the real were Rico and his late brother Fredo.
But that’s a whole other story.
“She told you I blocked her?”
Nut kisses his teeth. “She called me crying about Pay morning sickness being all day sickness and asked me to get her some food. When I told her my name was P and not Turk, she said ‘Turk’s crybaby ass blocked me.’ You really mad Pay’s having a baby?”
Nut may think he’s coming off as a concerned friend, but the nigga ain’t fooling me. He’s nosier than an old lady with a front porch. And the nigga don’t hold water at all. I might as well call Dallas and Shad myself and cut out the middle man.
“Autumn knows what she did. Ask her.”
Nut stares me down before he kisses his teeth and raises up. “Fine. Don’t tell me then. Don’t say shit to me until we get to the Oaks. I was finna give you they new housecode–”
“0315. Pay’s birthday. Now stop being a female and tell me why you here besides fishing for info you never gone get.”
Nut leers at me, and if I was a lesser man it would make me shit bricks instead of raise a brow. “Never say never, Dub. I’m sure it’ll all be out by the end my birthday. And you know I’m always right.”
He really is. I hate that shit.
He smirks like he can read my mind. “Pay was supposed to get Deuce but she not feeling well. Choc working late so I gotta go to my lil nigga’s Back to School Night. Everybody else MIA and since you got Autumn blocked–”
“If she wanted to get in touch with me she could.”
“Anyways, nigga, unblock ya baby mama. Go get yo son, and go bring yo other baby mama some food. No seafood though.”
Nut prolly thinks he’s staring into my soul, but really, his eyes are twitching.
Set and I have perfected our poker face when it comes to our big bro.
As bad as he fucking was, he was also the biggest snitch.
Nigga would be up under my mama or Ms. Cassie just singing like a fucking bird.
Exactly why I kept him away from my cinnamon apple for so long.
Then she has my baby and he becomes her lap dog, too.
I smirk as he goes to call Dallas back. “I should tell her you passing Pay off on me.”
“And then I’ll have to snap your neck in your sleep and raise Deuce as my own–oh shit! You seen this?”
Nut rounds my desk and shoves his phone in my face. It’s a video of Shad in the studio rapping. He takes his airpods out his ears again so I can hear the audio, and I can’t help but smirk at my young bull.
“This nigga going up. Who the fuck he talking about?”
Nut scrolls down a little and we see the caption on his post is C*m Cheese.
“That nigga dissing Cochise? Them Get Money niggas gone be pissed,” Nut cackles. “Aight Dub, I’m up… Choc! You got the video I sent? On IG, bae… Shad dissing Wynter nigga!”
Nut walks out politicking with his girl, leaving me to shake my head. I’m already knowing the group chat finna be going crazy for the next few days.
East Kenton got so much going on on that side of town to be worried about us, so even though Paradise is technically in East Kenton, we get left alone.
The First Nations have been around foreal since before Kenton even became a city.
What started as a reservation for a group of freed Black slaves, Native Americans, and their mixed families, grew into a tight knit and mysterious mafia-esque organization.
They stay in East Kenton, and have been in battle with the Italians over full control of the city section since before my mama was born.
But Shad sending a direct shot to Cochise, the First Nations Prince, whether it’s in a song or not, gone probably have to be answered to.
I grab my phone and lock up my office. It’s early evening, so there’s the dinner rush for our chicken wings, and some regulars trickling in.
It’s Friday, though, so I know by midnight Paradise will be packed, and it’ll be another great night to make some money.
But something tells me I’m probably not coming back tonight.
I send a text to my security to make sure they on their Ps and Qs tonight, get into my candy apple green 1973 Pontiac GTO and do the dash back to South Kenton.
The sun’s still pretty high in the sky since Daylight Saving’s Time hasn’t ended yet. It’s glinting off the glass and windows of the Downtown Kenton buildings, and I see Set’s building in the distance.
My phone interrupts Larry June and I smirk. Speak of the devil. I answer the call.
“I’ma kill his dumb ass. You seen that shit?” Set’s raspy voice filters through the car. Even when the nigga seething mad, he hardly ever loses his cool.
“Yeah, Nut showed me. Nigga got bars.”
“That nigga’s dumb as fuck. He finna start a fucking war.”
“It’s rap beef, Set. Part of the game.” I get off on the exit that’ll take me to Raleigh Park and start weaving through the evening traffic.
“Nigga marked Cochise out. Apache nor Grimey gone let that slide.” My nigga sighs like he’s an eighty year-old man.
It doesn't matter that Shad’s only two years younger than us, that’s Set’s firstborn.
He wasn’t even the youngest in Foe Dub, but we all babied him.
Nigga’s quite literally known in the streets for shooting niggas between in the eyes, but to us, he’ll always be Baby Set, the lil green ass eleven year-old who we had to take everywhere.
“I know you wanna swoop in and save Shad, but he’s a grown ass man, and can take care of himself. Yeah, it’s some street shit, but it really is rap beef. They’ll prolly have words when they see each other, but I doubt they’ll bang it out foreal, Set. Chill. How sis and my godbabies?”