A Gangsta's Son by Rio Read Free Book Online Page B

shootin’.”
    Tyrone shook his head in disbelief. “I just cain’t believe they came through bussin’ like that. We been beefin’ forever, but this the first time it came to gunplay.”
    “Don’t even trip, Joe,” Joe-Joe said as he picked up the half-empty Ciroc bottle. “We got choppas on deck, too. Wait till the hood cool off, I’m choppin ’ niggas down on sight.”
    He turned the bottle up to take a sip but Shay snatched it out his hand before it made it to his lips.
    “You too young to be drinkin’,” Shay said, filling her shot glass with the vodka. “Two shots is enough for you.”
    “Fuck you think you talkin’ to? I’m fourteen goin’ on thirty, and I got a grown man dick and a grown man bankroll...”
    Joe-Joe was flaunting a stack of cash in Shay’s face when Tyrone got up and followed Kisha out of the kitchen.
    “I’m not lettin’ you go outside drunk like this,” Tyrone said, grabbing ahold of Kisha’s elbow just as they were entering the living room. “Wait till Mikey get back. You can’t even walk straight right now.”
    “Boy you better let me go before you end up wit’ two useless arms.” She yanked her elbow out of his grasp. “I’m good, okay? Shit, I might be able to get this hoe to give you some pussy. She a stripper, dark like me, kinda cute, too.”
    Shaking his head, and secretly scoping Kisha’s plump backside, he locked his fingers around her elbow again. But this time he pushed her onto the new white leather sofa.
    She looked up at him and laughed. Her eyes drifted down to the crotch of his jeans and she reached out to touch it; he slapped her hand so hard that she snatched it back and massaged it.
    Tyrone’s expression became a mask of disgust. He was attracted to Kisha the same way he was to all beautiful black women, but his loyalty to Mikey and the TVL mob came first.
    “You ain’t that muhfuckin drunk,” he said, scowling.
    “I know.” Kisha shook her head. “I’m sorry, Tyrone. I’m so fucked up off that Ciroc.” She reached around him and lifted her phone from the table. “Damn, Cre done called me three times already.”
    “Who?”
    “Lacresha, the stripper I was just tellin’ you about, the one who was supposed to meet us on Homan when they started shootin’.”
    Tyrone frowned thoughtfully.
    Kisha returned Lacresha’s call.

~Chapter 20~
    In the alley a block down from Kisha’s Millard Street home, Lacresha drove up beside the white Lincoln and parked. She was behind the wheel of her new friend King-Royce’s shiny yellow Bentley coupe. A dark pair of Chanel shades shielded her blood-shot eyes from the harsh sunlight and her tiny, yellow, one-shouldered Prada dress left little to the imagination. Yesterday she had watched her brother’s casket get lowered into the earth, and then she had driven home to Royce’s condo in his black Benz and curled up in bed alone, crying her eyes out and reading a LaTonya West novel on her iPad’s Kindle app.
    Royce had stayed at the small mansion that he shared with his wife Aesha in Bellwood, just as he’d been doing since he’d given Cresha the keys to his Gold Coast condo. She knew he was only helping her out of sympathy; She was his favorite stripper at Arnie’s, had been for months, plus she and James had just bought nine ounces of soft from Royce a couple of weeks ago, and eight pounds of Kush a month before that.
    Cresha took a seven-gram bag of coke out of her Coach bag and poured a little onto the screen of her iPad. The Bentley’s passenger door opened and in climbed two dark-hued goons, both with assault rifles gripped tightly in their veiny teenaged hands. Branches of dread locks were draped over their cold young eyes.
    “Please,” Cresha said, rolling a hundred dollar bill into a nose straw, “tell me y’all found that nigga and put a hole in his head.”
    “We aired out the whole block. The whip we been seein’ outside ol’ girl crib was out there. We wet that muhfucka up, too,”