Wifey: Part 1

I called Mike back, and he picked up on the second ring.

“Mike?” I asked, just making sure it was him.

“Yes, this is Mike.”

“Hey, Mike,” I said, a smile on my face. “You still in the mood for some of this black nigger pussy?”

“Chyna?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Mike told me that he was just thinking about me and that he definitely wanted to see me. I hated feeling so desperate and putting myself in tough situations, but I had to do what I had to do. I told Mike that we couldn’t meet at our regular spot and that my pimp had access to a house in South Jamaica that I was going to be working out of for the day but only up until three that afternoon, and that if he wanted to get some he would have to come through ASAP.

Within a half-hour Mike had showed up at the front door of my parents’ house. I had removed all the pictures of myself and my family so that he wouldn’t have any idea that I lived there, and I took him into the basement, where I had let out the couch bed.

I told Mike that it was going to be two-fifty for the hour instead of the price that he had paid before but that price was inclusive of the tip.

Mike paid me the money, and we got busy.

I had hit a new stress relieving low, but it was all good because I set my mind to something, and I had achieved my goal. But I knew if I wanted to leave the prostitution world alone forever, I would have to set my mind to an ever bigger goal, that being to lock down Nico. And I was prepared to do whatever I had to do. After all, I had literally killed for him, so the least he could do to repay me was to wife me.

CHAPTER 23

Nico

I had been secretly paying drug money to one of the local mega-church preachers turned politician. I was paying fifteen thousand dollars in cash every month just so I could be included as a silent investor in a group of well-known business people who were pooling their resources together in order to develop the first casino in Queens County. The State of New York was accepting bids from different developers for the right to develop and operate the casino. Seeing that my political preacher connect was the right-hand man of New York’s black governor, it was all but guaranteed that our group was a lock to get the contract.

When we were finally awarded the contract, I’d have to shell out two million in order to get a two percent ownership share in the casino. It was an investment risk that I definitely felt was worth taking, simply because the potential rewards were huge.

The only thing I hated about being involved with the deal was the fact that I had to hobnob with all kinds of politicians at various fundraisers and different events taking place throughout the city. But I did what I had to do to get where I was trying to go.

I no longer had the worry of finding a new drug connect, since it looked like Bebo’s plan for us to eat with the other crews was working out. We now did have the best product on the street, so from that standpoint, I was in a good space. I still didn’t trust Bebo, but I knew I had to get back to making the moves I needed to make for me to permanently leave the streets alone. And the way I saw it, this casino move was the move that was going to legitimize me and get me to exactly where I wanted to be.

“What’s up, baby?” I said to Jasmine, who had called me.

“Nothing. I’m chillin’. Just seeing what you up to,” Jasmine stated.

I explained to her that I was going to get fitted for a new tailored suit I was planning to wear to the political fundraiser coming up in a few days.

Jasmine sounded as if she had just woken up. Her voice was groggy, and she didn’t sound enthused or even the least bit impressed or intrigued by what I had just told her, in terms of me planning to attend the political event.

“So what you doing on Thursday night?” I asked.

“You tell me.”

“Roll with me to this political event,” I told her.

Jasmine agreed to go with me to the event, but then she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her later that night at a spot in the Bronx called Sofa Lounge. I had never been to the spot before, since I rarely hung out in the Bronx, so I figured why not. But I definitely wasn’t going to go there without some of my boys.

“Yeah, we can do that,” I said to Jasmine.

“OK, cool. So let’s bounce around ten.”

“No doubt.”

“And, just for the record, you be on that bullshit,” Jasmine jokingly said, her voice still sounding groggy and somewhat hoarse.

I had just finished teasing her and saying that I hoped she knew how to hold a real conversation with politicians and professional people. I laughed and told her that I would see her later.