Bonded by Blood Read online

  Fazio couldn’t afford to have his people peep any sign of weakness in him. This is why he was alone with the strippers this night.

  Diamond had met Fazio at the Blue Flame several months ago when the suave drug dealer and his click of Mexicans and Blacks were ballin’ in the strip clubs VIP. All the dancers had flocked into VIP that night ‘cause those niggas were doing it big. Stacks were on deck and champagne was on ice all night long. They weren’t just making it rain, they made it pour.

  While the other dancers were busy trying to grab those dollars and looking to hook up with just any of the niggas in the crew, Diamond had focused her attention on the HNIC. She easily peeped whose plate the others ate from. Her plan had been to get herself noticed, then scheme for a permanent position in Fazio’s life. Maybe become his baby mama, if not wifey.

  Fuck the money the nigga and his crew tossed up in VIP, Diamond wanted to share the guap Fazio stacked inside safes.

  Diamond was pretty, like the singer Mya, and thick to death. With a pretty face and a bangin’ body, she had succeeded in getting Fazio’s attention that night. One night later she was riding Fazio’s dick in the Presidential Suite at the Ritz out in Buckhead. The girl put that sweet pussy on him like she was fucking for a future of never-ending luxury; had his ass speaking fluent Spanish although he only knew a few words, normally.

  That morning, waking up next to Fazio, Diamond was thinking it wouldn’t be too long before she’d have the nigga open.

  Tonight, several months later, she was in a different frame of mind. She had tried, but failed to pussy-whip Fazio. The nigga all open over some wetback bitch, Diamond said to herself. Her thoughts were full of contempt. Niggaz had been playing her sideways too damn long.

  Following Fazio’s direction Diamond laid back on the butter leather sofa, spread her thighs and let Vee Vee eat her out. Fazio watched while stroking his dick and urging Vee Vee on. He clapped his hands and the 103 inch plasma TV that took up half a wall in the room came on in amazing visual clarity. Scarface, the movie, played silently on the screen. Unlike most niggaz, Fazio wasn’t too impressed with the character, Tony Montana. It was the character, Sosa, whom Fazio wanted to emulate.

  Tony Montana was ‘bout it, but Sosa was the real shit.

  “Chupe ella cuelo,” Fazio instructed Vee Vee, forgetting that the stripper didn’t understand Spanish.

  “No comprende,” she replied, nevertheless, as she continued to lick Diamond’s neatly trimmed pussy.

  When Fazio translated his words into English, Vee Vee began licking Diamond’s brown eye. She did it real nasty-like, figuring her freaky display would turn Fazio the fuck on.

  Diamond moaned her appreciation for Vee Vee’s oral manipulations, her cries of pleasure worked like Viagra on Fazio, who immediately got a stiff hard-on.

  Fazio went over to the wet bar across the room; when he returned he was carrying a can of whipped cream. He proceeded to spray the cool whipped cream all over Diamond’s 38-26-43 measurements and then he stroked his exposed erection that jutted through the opening of his Coogi pajamas as Vee Vee instantly began to lap the cream off of Diamond’s body very erotically. Nothing turned Fazio on more than watching two chicks lick each other and bump pussies. The nigga was shot out over that shit. Q, one of the niggaz on Fazio’s team, had put him on that girl-on-girl shit and the fuck if it wasn’t proving to be as addictive as any street drug.

  Vee Vee who was a five-foot-three sexual tornado with a honey brown skin tone, lots of ass, a tiny waist, and cupcake-sized titties along with a real affinity for the taste of pussy, slowly licked the whipped cream off of Diamond’s 38D’s tracing Diamond’s hardened nipple with her tongue. Vee Vee sent heat between Diamonds luscious thighs. As Vee Vee’s tongue traveled down her body, Diamond guided Vee Vee’s head to her throbbing pussy and moaned when Vee Vee treated her clit like a pacifier.

  “Oooh shit!”

  Vee Vee placed soft kisses on Diamond’s clit and fingered her sopping wet pussy.

  ”Make her nut in your mouth,” encouraged Fazio, while jacking his seven-inch erection-then slipping on a condom and sliding deep inside of Vee Vee while she rubbed her face in Diamond’s hot coochie.

  “Fuck me, daddy,” Vee Vee moaned as Fazio went deeper.

  The more Fazio watched Vee Vee eat Diamond’s pussy the more aroused he became. He gripped Vee Vee’s hips and banged her pussy harder. “Oooh yes, daddy! That’s it, you gonna make a bitch cum all over your dick!” Vee Vee screamed then returned her attention to Diamond.

  Minutes later Diamond screamed, “I’m about to cum in your mouth!” then let out an ear-piercing wail of pleasure. Fazio couldn’t hold back any longer. He pumped in and out of Vee Vee like a jack hammer until he grunted and emptied his nuts.

  After recuperating from their threesome, they snorted more cocaine and drank more tequila. When Fazio was ready for another round of torrid sex, he went upstairs to his bedroom to get another pack of condoms. Getting some head, raw dick, was cool, but he knew that going up in females unprotected, especially a stripper hoe, was like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun. Fazio had survived some deadly drug wars, he wasn’t about to let pussy send him to an early grave.

  As soon as Fazio left the room, Diamond whispered to Vee Vee, “You got the pills?”

  “Yeah, I got ‘em,” Vee Vee answered quietly, reaching for her purse. She hurriedly

  shook two powerful date rape pills into the palm of her hand.

  “Use four!” instructed Diamond.

  “You sure, girl?” whispered Vee Vee. “I’m not tryna kill this muthafucka and end up with a murder charge!”

  “It ain’t gon’ kill him. But we gotta make sure his ass is knocked out for a while.”

  Vee Vee shook out another two pills then dropped them into the half-empty bottle of Corona that Fazio had last drank from. Then just to be sure, they drugged a glass of tequila; Fazio was sure to drink one or the other.

  When Fazio returned from upstairs both girls were sipping fresh glasses of tequila and smiling impishly.

  “My two little freaks,” commented Fazio, smiling back at the naked pair before picking up the half-empty bottle of Corona and draining it in one huge gulp.

  “I wanna make a toast,” proffered Diamond, raising her glass. “To the livest nigga I’ve ever met.”

  “I’ll toast to that, “Vee Vee played along, clinking her glass of tequila against Diamond’s.

  Gassed up by the two strippers, Fazio picked up the unattended glass of tequila that was on the cocktail table and clinked it against Vee Vee’s and Diamond’s, toasting to himself.

  After Diamond saw that Fazio’s glass was near empty, she was certain that the two, laced drinks would soon take effect. The scandalous stripper placed her near-full glass of tequila on a coaster on the cocktail table, then she laid down on the huge bear-skin rug in the center of the floor, flaunting her nakedness, “Come and get it,” she invited Fazio, spreading her smooth, shapely brown thighs, fingering herself for added enticement.

  Vee Vee began stroking Fazio while he watched her partna on the rug play with herself. Though Vee Vee had skilled hands, the combination of the drugs he had consumed left Fazio half-limp. Fazio began to feel a bit light-headed at first, then dizzy. Just moments later his dick had shriveled up like a prune and spittle ran out the corner of his mouth as he collapsed face down on the bear-skin rug where Diamond lay invitingly.

  “Hurry up, girl! You get his jewelry and the cocaine, I’ma search the house for money!” whispered Diamond.

  Twenty frantic minutes later the two strippers drove away from Fazio’s house in Vee Vee’s Pathfinder. Diamond was glad the nigga didn’t know where she lived. The couple of times they had hooked up before tonight, they had met up at whatever hotel they rendezvous at. She knew that she’d have to quit her job at the Blue Flame and leave ATL, at least for a while because Fazio would surely throw money around in an attempt to find her. Diamond wasn’t about to play hers
elf; she had no doubt that anyone of her co-workers at the club would sell her out for a grip.

  At Vee Vee’s apartment on Campbleton Road, they dumped the stolen money, coke, and jewels onto the kitchen table and tallied it up. Besides the jewels they’d taken off of Fazio, Diamond had found other expensive pieces upstairs in the master bedroom.

  Neither girl realized that they had over a quarter mil’ worth of customized ice in their possession. The pieces were heavy and the diamonds looked clear, even to their untrained eyes. Diamond guessed they could get a hundred stacks for it all, maybe more if they sold it piece by piece. Besides, the jewels and the kilo of cocaine, Diamond and Vee Vee counted up nearly eighty stacks. Most of the money had been found in Fazio’s bedroom. Diamond was sure there had been more money and drugs hidden somewhere inside the mansion, but she had been anxious to get away before the pills wore off and he woke up.

  “Girl, I’m so scared, I’m about to pee on myself,” Vee Vee said breathing irregularly. She was already beginning to worry they might get hunted down and bodied over the stunt they’d pulled.

  “I already told you that trick don’t know shit about me other than my stage name. We’ll just lay low at your place, sell the jewelry and cocaine, and then bounce out of town somewhere.”

  Diamond had it all planned out.

  Five years working as an exotic dancer at various strip clubs in the South and having been played by different hustlas had Tynisha Brown jaded as far as money-gettin’ niggas was concerned. She was known only as Diamond at the Blue Flame, but she had used a half dozen other aliases throughout her career in various clubs.

  When she first started shaking her ass for the fast money, it had been exciting and fun. She was fuckin’ with all types of money-gettin’ niggas who came through the clubs tipping and tripping like they owned the world. After being played by one nigga after another, Diamond had grown sick of their lying asses.

  Her discontent with hustlas hadn’t turned her straight dyke, though. She would do the girl-on-girl thing for money, or for the occasional thrill, but she still preferred men. She had set her sight on Fazio that first night at the club, swearing to herself that if she hooked him she would treat the nigga like a king; be faithful to him, and have his back through thick and thin. The first time they hooked up at the Ritz, she had gone all out for Fazio in bed. Yet, Fazio had ended up treating her as if she was a trick—no different than other big-money hustlas had treated her in the past. So, Diamond had made up her mind to treat his ass like a trick nigga. Now she and Vee Vee were splitting the nigga’s bread.

  Who’s the trick now? Diamond was laughing inside as she and her crime partner split up the eighty stacks.

  Chapter Two

  Quantavious had been texting his connect and trying to reach him on his cell phone for the past two hours. Still he hadn’t been able to reach his man. It was unlike Fazio not to answer Q’s calls. Not only was he Q’s supplier; they fucked with each other hard. They both patronized the strip clubs, sports bars, and other popular hangout spots.

  Q had been plugged in with Fazio for a couple of years now. Fazio was hitting him off with five bricks at a time, on consignment. On the flip side, Q had been instrumental in Fazio locking down certain spots in the city. He was Fazio’s link into Moreland Avenue and Thomasville Heights where Q and his brothers grew up. Q had brought Fazio business from a lot of niggas over that way.

  Q’s niggas in the hood, even his brother B-Man, were forever trying to get him to set up Fazio so they could jack him. No matter how they brought it to him. though, Q refused to cross his connect. Those fools were sleeping on Fazio, fooled by his handsome face and laid back demeanor. But Q knew that Fazio was a dangerous muthafucka, with a crew of crazy Mexicans that would ride for him in a heartbeat.

  Q continued trying to reach Fazio for another half hour but still got no reply. Usually, if Fazio was tied up with other business he’d have Maldanado or someone call back and let Q know when Fazio would be available. Right now Q was tight because he needed to pick up ten bricks to sell to a dude over in the Bluff. He’d already had him on hold all day.

  It was a little past midnight, according to the digital clock in Q’s Ford Explorer. Thirty minutes later he pulled into Fazio’s circular driveway and parked the SUV beside Fazio’s red Ferrari. From his whip, Q tried once more to reach his man on his cell phone, but again the call went to voicemail.

  Despite the late hour and the tranquility of the affluent neighborhood, Q knowing Fazio’s wife was out of town, chanced blowing his horn. When there was no response from inside the house, he was left befuddled as to why his connect hadn’t come to the door. Why wasn’t the laser alarm for the driveway activated? He wondered. This was unlike Fazio.

  Q went to the front door, lifted the weighted brass knocker and clanged it against the metal ball repeatedly. Still receiving no response, he rang the doorbell. It’s chimes, too, went unanswered.

  Fazio’s custom-built Camaro was in the driveway in front of the Ferrari. His wife’s black Viper was also in the driveway. Q walked back to the six-car garage, peeped inside and saw that Fazio’s Escalade and box Chevy were inside; all of his whips were there. Earlier when they’d talked, Fazio had said he was in for the night. So where was he?

  Q decided to check the front door to see if it was locked before he gave up and left. He was worried about his man.

  It surprised the fuck out of him when the doorknob turned and the door opened easily when he pushed up against it. Stepping into the baby mansion with caution, Q pulled his Glock from his waist and called out Fazio’s name. His eyes darted left to right as he tightened his grip on the burner, and his hand shook. Usher’s CD played in the background, like the soundtrack to an urban movie.

  Q continued calling out Fazio’s name as he walked toward the entertainment room where the sound of the music was coming from. As he entered the room, he saw Fazio butt-ass naked on the rug. In the soft light of the room he spotted an empty Corona bottle on the cocktail table next to a near-empty bottle of tequila and several glasses. He also noticed traces of cocaine residue on the marble cocktail table.

  “Yo, Fazio? You all right, big homey?” He could see that Fazio was breathing, so he knew that his man wasn’t dead. It was strange; Q had never known his supplier to get pissy drunk and pass out. He couldn’t imagine Fazio overdosing on cocaine. Fazio got his buzz on occasionally, but only in moderation. To see him in his present state sapped away a bit of the immense amount of respect Q had for him.

  A nigga with Fazio’s rep and stature in the game was supposed to be above such self-humiliation. Seeing his man in this condition further eroded Q’s faith in idols. Weakness to a drug vice had destroyed Q’s only other hero—his pop.

  Q lightly slapped Fazio across the face several times, trying to awaken him.

  “Yo, big folks, wake up!” he repeated with each slap.

  Still Fazio didn’t awaken.

  Q didn’t know what the fuck to do. He wondered if he should call 911. But that would bring the police along with EMS, and he knew there were drugs and illegal guns inside the mansion. Check the stash spot inside the pantry. He had watch Fazio retrieve kilos from there on numerous occasions.

  He went to the kitchen and stepped inside the sizable pantry, opening the fake wall the way he had peeped Fazio do it.

  Behind the fake wall, Q found kilos stacked from the floor up to his head, and he stood at six-two. There were several rows of the neatly stacked bricks. Six industrial-sized detergent boxes were stuffed full of rubber-banded stacks of money. Q breathed a sigh of relief that Fazio hadn’t been robbed. He closed the wall and returned to the entertainment room and again tried to awaken Fazio. But again to no avail. It was then that Q realized that he could creep the entire pantry stash and Fazio would never know who had jacked him.

  Q hurried back to the pantry, slid open the fake wall and began unstacking a number of kilos from one of the rows. Then he raced from the pantry to the laundry room, a
t the rear of the mansion, to gather a couple of bed sheets to use as a makeshift knapsack in which he could carry away whatever he stole from his man. His heart was beating faster than the bass line of a Lil’ John crunk song.

  With bed sheets in his hand, passing by the entertainment room as he was returning to the pantry from the laundry, Q saw that Fazio was still on the floor passed out. Once back inside the pantry, Q quickly loaded a pile of kilos onto the bed sheet he had spread out on the floor. On a second sheet he dumped money stacks from two of the industrial size detergent boxes. He hurriedly tied both loaded sheets into knapsacks, dragged the two bundles outside and hoisted them up into his SUV.

  His heart was damn near pushing through his chest as he drove away from the mansion. Q felt he had done what most street niggaz would have; he had taken advantage of an opportunity that presented itself. In order to become a made man, a nigga had to seize every opportunity to come up, and never look back. Those who hesitated rarely got a second opportunity to bubble.

  Still, Q felt some reservation over stealing from his man, which is why he hadn’t taken all the money and drugs that was in the pantry. Fazio had always kept it thorough with him, shit that went beyond business.

  Q countered his reservations by reminding himself that Fazio had money and drugs to spare. The loss would hurt his man’s pride more than it would his pockets. Since the lick was unplanned, Q hadn’t thought out his next move. The Explorer was equipped with a hidden compartment that could conceal as many as ten bricks, but there was no way he could hide the two knapsacks inside the compartment. He needed to get off the road before some cop pulled him over on a humbug and lucked into the bust of a lifetime.

  Taking I-85 north back into the city, Q decided that it wouldn’t be too wise to take the stuff to the condo out in Scotsdale that he shared with his girl Persia. If he came under Fazio’s suspicion, the condo would be the first place Fazio would search. Besides, Persia, had been acting kinda shady lately, and he didn’t want her all up in his business.