G-Spot by Noire Read Free Book Online Page A

I used to see your mother and Ree up on Lenox avenue back when I had just come out and was still selling pussy. You know, before I got myself cleaned up.”
    I groaned. Everybody knew how stupid my mother had been, and how much it had cost me and Jimmy. I hated hearing about her, even if it wasn’t on the regular, because people like Dicey seemed to give my mother life from the grave.
    “Your mother was a little older than me, Juicy, and I looked up to her and even tried to swing my ass the way she used to be swinging hers. But don’t you get fucked up by the game the way she did, baby girl. The worst thing Cara coulda done was dip on Big Sonny. Maybe she ain’t know whose dope she was stealing when her and Ree tricked Ice Man up, but who else’s fuckin dope could it have been? Sonny was a blackhearted motherfucker who owned every nigger in Harlem back then, including G. But look at who’s long gone, and who’s here still here now, standing on top.
As mean as Sonny was, he didn’t have shit on G, cause when G stepped up strong he treated Sonny like he was somebody’s bitch. Took everything Sonny had, except his woman. I bet you ain’t heard nobody talk about laying eyes on Big Sonny since right after Cara got shot, have you?”
    “G is a businessman,” I said, wishing Dicey would stop scaring me and take her cramping ass on home. “He’s all about making money, and you know yourself that when people try you, you gotta put them in check.
And that don’t make G no monster, Dicey. He feeds his people lovely and he’s really a good-hearted person when you get to know him.”
    “Tell that shit to the Haitian sister used to be around here a few years back. Real cute chick. Built just like you, but shorter hair and not as pretty.
Ain’t nobody seen her well-fed ass lately neither. Or”—she pointed toward Cooter and Moonie at the top of the bar—”how bout you run that ‘good-hearted’ shit past Cooter Jackson. His baby sister used to lay up with G, too. But I bet you can’t even get Cooter to stutter her damn name up in here, and that girl wasn’t much older than you when she turned up dead.”
    I swallowed hard. If it was one thing I had learned from my grandmother it was to heed the wisdom of warnings. “What you trying to say, Dicey?”
    She lit a cigarette and took a drag that was so long it steamed the tip. “I ain’t sayin shit, Juicy. I know better than to fuck with G.
Especially up in his Spot. But let me ask you this: He ever tell you about his wife? The fine Puerto Rican girl from over on Saint Nick he had his son by? The boy who goes to college out in Cali?”
    “No, but I saw her picture on his desk.”
    Dicey nodded and took another drag, then signaled Moonie again. “Uh, huh. I bet G ain’t tell you she been missing for over ten years, did he? I heard they got to scrappin’ one night and she disappeared just like that. Cops never even bothered to look for her neither. Some say she went to Puerto Rico, and one time I heard she was living downtown in Brooklyn, but don’t nobody know what really happened to her except G.
And he ain’t telling.”
    I liked Dicey, but she was messing with my head. I knew G was dangerous, but damn. She was really scaring me. My doubts must have shown on my face.
    “Okay, okay, lemme ask you something.”
    I sighed and rested my elbows on the bar. “What?”
    “You got any money?”
    “What?”
    She sucked her teeth. “Money! Duckets! Dollars! ends! Do G give you any goddamn cheddar?”
    “What do I need money for, Dicey? G takes damn good care of me, and trust me, I got everything I need.”
    “He ever put any cash in your hand, or do he just go out and buy what you ask for?”
    I thought for a minute. Whatever me and Jimmy said we wanted, G made sure it showed up at the crib. He shopped for all of my clothes and even ordered in the groceries.
    “Juicy,” Dicey pressured me, “how do you get your goddamn tampons every month? Do you go to the