Page 14 of Hooked On A California Kingpin

“My name is Malice Ashonti Ruiz. You will refer to me as Inferno aka your Excellency.” He stepped into the circle and his woodsy aroma hit me first making my thoughts feel like a bunch of jumble. Who was this man? He really had me fucked up in the head. Holding his hand out he caressed the top of the fire with his fingertips. I cringed and fought the urge to pull his hand away. He was off, the man in front of me had the most powerful presence that I have never encountered before not even from my own father. He stood tall like he was at least six foot seven.

“I see, you’re speechless, remain that way until I’m done talking. I’m a very busy businessman and every single second is important to me. I will only say this shit once.” He placed his right hand that was hot as hell on top of my cold hands and easily removed the gun from out of my grasp and broke it down into three pieces. Tossing it into the fire. He truly had me standing here feeling stuck on fucking stupid.

“I’ve been sending Killa to reach out to the head organization of F.Y.F, for my Syndicate that’s building and multiple states. I didn’t start building it out here in California first because of too many gangs and killings of black people. My Syndicate isn’t that messy, it really runs smooth, and everyone falls in line because it’s lots of money to be made. I started my business in Vegas first and then worked my way around a couple of other states. The Syndicate ranges from politics, real estate, drugs, guns and the list is deeper than that. Since you fall under the category of drugs, I plan to keep things simpler with you. I could have offered more and put you on to more but the way you all move, especially that sister of yours and the enemies you have made for yourself. I have to raise the percentage and tax you a little more. You still will benefit and have better protection. Maybe with the upgraded protection men like me won’t be able to get to you like I’ve done tonight. Then again Sovereign, there isn’t another nigga like me on this earth.” I licked my lips and shifted my weight. I was angry and turned on at the same time.

“That was a nice introduction. I like the props and all.” I looked at the fire that started to blow with the wind. “That shit mad cute, you know?” I stepped closer to him. I didn’t stop walking until my double D breast was pressed up against his hard body. I had to tilt my head back to look into his icy eyes. “F.Y.F will never bow down to you are any other nigga that thinks his balls are bigger than mine.” He said nothing but his hands did the talking by pulling my skirt up and reaching underneath until he cupped my fat mound. Sneering he gave it a tight squeeze and I could feel my own juices gushing out.

“That’s a fat ass pussy, Sovereign. It’s hot as fuck, just how I like it to be. I don’t feel any balls baby, but your delivery was cute.” He mocked me, while sliding my silk panties to the side. His rugged burnt fingertips went up and down, between my thick pussy lips and I shuddered. When I heard a soft chuckle, I stumbled back until he caught me with his free hand. Snatching his hand away from my box, he held his soaked index and middle finger up to his nose and took a long sniff. Flicking his long pink tongue out he lapped then sucked his two fingers clean. I blinked rapidly and stepped back away from his touch. He sniggered and I started to laugh. I was very angry that this man threw me completely off balanced.

“Pussy taste good as fuck, tell me Sovereign… will that thick ass wet pussy go to waste? Get in line, you have one hour to give me an answer.” He dug in his pants pocket and stuffed a business card right into my cleavage. Giving me his back, I snatched the card out and balled it up. Aiming for his head, it landed right on his neck and then fell into the fire.

He watched as I listened to the fire crackle and burn the card. I had a look of victory plastered on my face.

“That was the wrong fucking move, Sovereign.” He sneered and this time a real smile came through on his face. He looked at his men and gave an order that had me ready to run through the fire and escape. Where the fuck was Bundy?

“Bag and gag that bitch. Place her in the trunk since she’s so fucking disrespectful.” He looked at me as I flicked him off and smiled right back at him.

“We are going to have some fucking fun, Mi’Amor.”

He turned and let his men take over, I gave them the fight of my life until something was placed over my mouth and all consciousness left me.

Chapter Seven

SOULFUL HURTZ

Eyeing my sisters warily, I got out of bed stomping my feet at the roaches that scattered upon realizing that there was movement. I woke up every morning at five am like my mind had a built-in alarm clock. Every day that I woke up, I felt more tired than before but had to keep pushing. Money had to be made and I had two mouths to feed. I stretched out the aches that I felt from sleeping in a small ass twin bed and yawned. I weighed about three hundred in some solid change. The bed I slept in was old from when I was five years old. I looked over at the bunk bed that my sisters were on and smiled a little bit. They were constant reminders of why I went so hard.

After showering and handling the rest of my hygiene, I sluggishly made my way to our small roach-infested kitchen. I stopped in the living room and looked down at my mom on the couch with disgust. She had to get her ass up and fuckin’ bounce before my sisters saw her and started crying and shouting. I hated her so much for what she put us all through but still loved her at the same time. Instead of starting the pancakes and bacon for my sisters, I decided to wake my mom and kick her out first. I knew with me cooking breakfast, the smell alone would wake my sisters up. I didn’t want them starting their day off emotional and still having to go to school.

I had to hustle hard and make moves, school and daycare for the girls was a life saver. It let me move around how I needed to during the day before turning it in early to take care of my siblings.

“Antionette.” I shook her frail arm as I eyed her with disgust. “Antionette, get up man!” I raised my voice trying to sound strong and cold but what nigga wanted to see his mom strung out on crack? This shit a different type of pain and I wished my momma was strong and not weak when it came to getting on this shit. My father died when I was two, she met my sister’s dad and shit started to spiral out of control. At the time I was eight and knew a change had come over my mom. She used to spoil me hard and tell me daily affirmations. When my sister’s dad came into the picture, she became head over heels and lost focus of being a mother. My sister Luv turned two, my mom was strung out and hoeing. She stopped caring that she even had kids and would leave us at home all day and night with no food or lights. By the time Luv turned three, she came home pregnant with Passion. She was so high off crack that when she delivered my second baby sister she laughed and told the nurses that she had a “Passion for crack.” Cps got involved and gave custody to Passion’s dad. That nigga was a stupid ass drug dealer that was constantly getting high on his own supply. I called him a functioning crack head. He didn’t look like he smoked that shit but behind closed doors he shamelessly hit his pipe.

He beat my momma ass constantly then threatened her to get clean so she could be a good mother and she complied and gained custody back over Luv and Passion and actually started doing what she was supposed to be doing. I was actually happy until a couple months later the nigga that Gerald owed re up money to, sent his goons to break down the door and capped his ass. At the time it was some traumatizing shit to see at a young age. Seeing blood and Gerald’s eyes still opened horrified the fuck out of me.

I was happy that his ass was dead too though, and figured my mom would go back to being how she used to be before Gerald came into the picture, but I was wrong as fuck. Right after Gerald’s funeral, my mom got high right in front of us when we returned back home. She received a big amount of money from the Victim of a Crime Organization and blew it all on drugs. When I turned fourteen, she stopped paying the rent on the house. That’s when I realized that my mom never owned the house that we lived in and Watts. We got evicted and went straight to a women’s and kids shelter until they gave her section 8. We only lived in the shelter for three months and they gave her a voucher fast and that’s when we moved into the projects.

From that point on everything was on me and I struggled up until I met Queen. At first, I hated her because I had to work off a debt. I stoled from one of the niggas that lived next door to me. I was so hungry and weak, tired of hearing my sisters crying because they were hungry too. I didn’t have no other options but to climb through Peep’s window and take that nigga whole re up money. I knew he sold drugs and had it going on, I figured he wouldn’t miss the money. When days went by without Peep saying anything to me. I thought I got away with it and shit was smooth.

A week later, my front door was kicked in. Queen stood at my door with fire dancing in her hazel brown eyes and a gun clutched tight in her hand. When her eyes landed on me and my sisters sitting on our worn-down sofa, eating popcorn while watching The Simpsons. She handed Murk’um her gun and asked for his Gucci belt. She had the girls go to their rooms and whooped my ass with that Gucci belt all around the house until she was breathing heavy and out of breath. From that day forward, I worked off the debt and got to know her more.

Instead of looking at her like an annoying ass boss, I started looking at her in a different light. I had to shake my thoughts of wishing she was my mom. She was full of wisdom and although everybody saw her for a cold, twisted and evil female. I saw her as more. She cared and she never looked at me with disgust or judgmental eyes. Niggas and females constantly made fun of me so much that I started believing the shit they said. It was all talk because I would never let a muthafucka physically hurt me.

I should have beat niggas up and had a come back for bitches that called me names. I gotten used of verbal abuse at a younger age because of my mother. Whenever she didn’t have drugs and whatever else she wanted, I suddenly became fat black and ugly niggas. That shit was the norm and at some point, I stopped giving an actual fuck. The only thing I truly cared about was making sure Luv and Passion had food on the table and warm decent clothes to wear.

I didn’t get to experience shit that teens my age got to experience. I looked and felt like a grown ass man. I didn’t want handouts and for people to look at a nigga and feel bad. I knew that one day because of my ambitions to get to the money, that the tables would turn.

I looked down at my mom and the same pain that I had been battling and trying my hardest to force out of my system when it came to her kept resurfacing. She had on a t-shirt that looked three sizes too big as drool seeped out the corner of her lips. Her ashen chocolate face looked like she was sleeping good as hell. My mom was beautiful even with sunken cheeks and yellow teeth.

“Wake up man!” I shook her harder as she slowly stirred and simpered. Finally batting her eyes and staring up at me in confusion she sat up on the couch looking around the small living space. She smelled like dried up piss and from the heavy bags under her eyes, she hadn’t slept in days while binging hard.

“Shit, Soulful Hurtz! Why you bothering me this early?” I stood back from the pungent smell that hit the air and realized she had pee stains on her gray sweats.

“You got to go, Ma. I don’t need the girls waking up for school seeing you.”

Mainly Luv, Luv was old enough to understand this shit clearer. She had anger problems and would act out for attention. Seeing my mom would make her not want to go to school just from fear of coming back home and not seeing her again. Passion was nonchalant and never really voiced how she felt but I could tell it bothered her.

“Why? I miss my babies and I want to cook for y’all tonight.” I shook my head and fought the urge to grab a cigarette from the kitchen cabinet. I hid them well so the girls wouldn’t get curious and try to play with them. My mom stressed me so bad weed just wasn’t enough. A roach ran across her foot, and she didn’t even flinch to find out what was trekking across her foot. Looking at my mom in such a pitiful state pained me bad. My throat started to burn, and I hated the feeling of fighting back my own tears.