Against the GRAIN

By ALFONZO WILSON

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 Alfonzo Wilson
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-3757-1

Contents

Prologue.............................xiChapter One..........................1Chapter Two..........................7Chapter Three........................15Chapter Four.........................21Chapter Five.........................27Chapter Six..........................35Chapter Seven........................43Chapter Eight........................49Chapter Nine.........................53Chapter Ten..........................59Chapter Eleven.......................63Chapter Twelve.......................69Chapter Thirteen.....................77Chapter Fourteen.....................81Chapter Fifteen......................89Epilogue.............................93

Chapter One

Me and Miss Tree-cee drove way to the south side listening to Master P the last Don C.D. It was completely silence besides the music blaring from the speakers and the inhaling and exhaling sounds of Miss Tree-cee smoking on her blunt of weed. I didn't know where we were going but I was tired of driving around and finally dozed off. At a little after four that morning Miss Tree-cee woke me up as we pulled in the entrance of some apartment complex's called BayTree. I looked in awe at the nice building which were painted perfectly and although there were some broke-down cars out there, seventy percent of the cars I seen were way better than the ones I was used to seeing on the Northside.

After driving around back we pulled into a parking spot and got out my mama's Nissan Sentra. I grabbed the two bags and wondered why she had to park next to this nice ass Acura with rims. As soon as we stepped foot in the building and locked the door Miss Tree-cee then stripped half naked right in front of me.

"Ma, what the hell you're doing?" I questioned in disgust. "Get used to it because besides you no one is to be in this apartment with anything on. "she said walking towards me. Lil' Dee look at me and understand what I'm about to tell you ... the street's ain't got no love for nobody. Nigga'z or hoe'z don't give a fuck about you and you must always remember don't trust nobody baby. Family, Friends, or even me. The dope game is corrupted and it's dirty, you can't have no love or sympathy for anybody because truthfully it ain't nothing but a weakness. Now for the time being I'm gonna be the one to cook up your dope but at the same time I want you to soak up all the game I give to you. When you find another woman to take my place just let me know but make sure you treat her the same way I teach you to treat me. You think I'm good enough to cook up your dope?" "Yeah ... I guess so." "Yeah, I guess so" she mimicked me "boy grab them bags and bring them in the kitchen."

Placing the gun in my pocket I carried all four bags we had to the kitchen and watched as Tree-cee pulled out four big pirex beakers, a few forks, some gloves and surgical masks. She then opened the bag I had brought her and pulled out a bag of powder. Then she pulled out a box of baking soda from her other book bag along with a scale. "Now pay attention baby." She began running some water in one of the beakers before placing it on the stove. This here is a 400ml beaker "This right here is considered a ounce, 28 grams, but all you need is seven grams which is a quarter of an ounce. Now that the water is hot enough you drop seven grams and two big spoons of baking soda into the beaker. Beat that shit up real good then stand back and watch the dope form into a circle at the bottom of the beaker. Once you see it come together you can take it off the stove and let it cool on its own or sprinkle some cold water on it." After throwing some cold water on the circle of dope Tree-cee then removed the slab of dope from the beaker placing it on the counter. Going back to her book bag Tree-cee pulled out a box cutter and some boxes of Zip-loc sandwich bags. "After letting the dope dry you can start cutting it up" she said demonstrating until the entire dope was cut up. "This is thirty five straight glass dime rocks because they're so big and thick depending on who you're selling them to you can cut them down and sell them for dimes or sell them whole for dubs. But this is the catch, you want to sell them for dimes, why? Because they're big, thick and its glass, it's like the saying goes, I want quality and quantity. Nigga'z out here selling that bull-shit water, shit all thin and small, I don't give a fuck if a person been smoking for fifty years give them something that's gonna make them go tell everybody and their mama about." "I got you." "Good, now go into the back room, it's a table in there I want you to count all the money that you hit Jason for while I'm cooking up some of this dope up for you." "Alright," I yawned grabbing the book bag. I walked through the empty apartment and into the room where only a glass table and a chair at each end was, I then poured the bundles of money on the table and began counting.

"Lil' Dee ... Lil' Dee," I kept my eyes closed as Miss Tree-cee called out to me. "Lil' Dee get up now ... stop playing." "Ma'am" I whined, it felt like I had just gone to sleep. "Get up." "What time is it?" "Boy it's after one in the afternoon, now get your ass up." I pushed my head up off the table, which felt like the best pillow I had ever laid on, and wiped the sleep from my eyes before my eyes were able to register right. "Damn" I exclaimed looking at the money that was now nicely placed in bands in front of me. Tree-cee sat at the other end of the table with stack after stack of dope all placed in Ziploc bags both big and small.

"I cooked up seventy-one cookies each totaling up to seven grams which adds up to a half of brick, that's aside from the one I cooked to show you how it's done. Each one of these cookies you are to sell for three hundred at the most and two seventy-five at the less. With the other eighteen ounces I bagged up these here which is eight-balls, three point five grams, quarters which you already know is seven, halfs which is fourteen and whole that are twenty-eight grams.... your eight-balls go for ninety, quarter from one sixty to two hundred, half three sixty to four and a whole seven fifty to eight hundred moving on to the big weight, you hit him for two and a half bricks, I used one brick and another ounce so that leaves you with one more brick and seventeen ounces. Now, this brick equals up to thirty-six ounces and we gone sell ours for eighteen-five. If they need an eight or four and a baby, four and a half ounces you sell it for Michael Jordan, twenty-three hundred and if they want a quarter brick, nine ounces, you sell it for forty five hundred and a half of brick is ten even. Do you got all that?" "Yeah," okay then ... eight-ball, size and price?" "Three point five grams ... ninety dollars." "One ounce?" "Twenty eight grams ... seven fifty to eight hundred." "A quarter brick?" Okay its thirty six in a brick so a quarter of that is ... nine ounces which is four-five, the gun I want." I answered proudly. "Shit, you on point boo" Tree-cee smiled." "Alright I counted all your money and it totaled up to forty-eight thousand three hundred and ninety seven dollars, but I added the rest to give you a full fifty stacks. All of these bands hold twenty-five hundred a piece but you can recount them and band them how you want." "Nah ... I'm going to leave them how they is." "It's your money." "What about you mama?" "Baby don't worry about me, as long as you straight I'm straight. You hear me?" "Yes ma'am but ..." "Listen Deon," she cut me off, "from now on all that mama and yes ma'am shit is in the wind so kill it. I'm Tree-cee to you. What I'm trying to teach you is to never trust no bitch, no hoe, no slut or no woman period ... M.O.B money over all bitches Lil' Dee. The game don't need no pussy nigga in it so you got to man up now. I'm gonna help you along the way and teach you every single thing I learned from your Daddy before he died but its on you to soak the game up. There's no way in hell you're not suppose to take over Duval county with a number one hustling bitch like me on your team. "I get your drift." "Alright ... when I'm finished with you you're going to have the ambition of a hustler like Henry Man, the killer instinct like my nigga'z Peeokee and Keshawn. I want your mind to be focus and at all times on point like Amp and have the flyest demeanor like LeRoy." She replied smiling so big. "You're a trip" I said laughing while standing up. "When you die ... shit'd ... before you die I want Duval to always remember you my nigga." "I'm saying what we gone do about this place, you need money to furnish it?" "Nah," she stated standing up. "This is where we gone cook up, bag up and count your money. Once I finish cleaning up in here we're going back to Cleveland Arms so we won't look so suspicious being that I was fucking Jason and Lil' Chris was your friend." "Alright" I said suddenly missing my nigga. "Listen Dee, life goes on my nigga but at the same time you're gonna understand that most people in our lives are here for a season. Everybody ain't your friend and most people are only a stepping stone. "You right." I'm gonna take some of this dope with me to sell for you but it's up to you what you gone do with all that money. You can either take it or leave it, but don't nobody know about this place." "I'ma take it with me." "Alright, I'm about to pack this shit up so we can leave." We both went about our task until all the drug residue was gone and packed along with the money which was inside the book bag strapped on my back. Finally Tree-cee came to the living room where I was waiting patiently with a growling stomach. "You ready?" she asked me. "Hell yeah." "Do I need to be searched?" "No you good." "You sure?" "Man come on, a nigga hungry." "Follow me because you still got too much trust in me nigga when I'm trying to preach to you about trusting bitches ..." She stated as she led me to the bathroom sitting down on the toilet. "Remember I cooked up that first ounce when we got here?" "Yeah," I sighed leaning against the wall. "Did I cook up an entire ounce or just seven grams?" She continue with the questions while straining to take a shit. "Ewww Ma," I yelled walking out covering my nose. "Come here Lil' Dee." "You stink" I replied coming to the door. "Nigga how much dope did I cook up?" "You said seven grams." "Okay, then where is the rest of the dope at?" "I don't know." "What!" she yelled after straining some more. "Nigga get the fuck out my face before I slap ya ass. You so damn stupid ... ain't payin attention to shit i'm teaching your dumb ass." I stepped in the hall and leaned against the wall not knowing what to do or even say. True indeed she told me to put women in their place if ever they stepped out of line but right now she was mad as fuck because I somehow fucked up. Tree-cee has been mad at me before but never to the point where she talked that way to me. As I continued to contemplate about what to do I heard the toilet flush and then the running water in the shower before Tree-cee screamed my name to come here. "What the fuck is this?" she calmly asked while running water over a zip-loc bag full of cocaine, cleaning it of her fetas. "My bad." "Your bad! ... nigga by you slipping a bitch could have gotten away with a least five hundred dollars nigga and you talking about your bad. You better open your eyes and put your shame and pride to the side, when you search a bitch search a bitch because just like I can stuff shit in my pussy and ass hole, any and every bitch can too." "I got you." I assured her grabbing the bag of dope. "I hope so because you can't get rich making small mistakes like this one." "I'm on point from here on out." With a evil ass grin on her face, Tree-cee nodded up and down her eyes locked on me. I quietly walked out the bathroom leaving Tree-cee in there to take her shower.

Chapter Two

"I'm about to hit the block" I said to Lil' Dee as he sat in front of the television watching Bugs and Daffy eating a bowl of ice cream. "What time is it?" he asked not even bothering to look up. Checking my cell phone I responded "a little before ten." "What time you coming back?" "I don't know Lil' Dee, I mean the dope ain't gone sell itself, we've both been sleep since we got back today. What time do you want me to come back?" "Shit it don't matter" he said. I rolled my eyes then opened the door to leave. "Fuck" I stated stepping out into the night which was cold as fuck for it to be in the middle of November.

Walking down the stairs of the two story brick building I began strolling to the back of the Projects where I knew all the dope boys and basers hung at. All through the Project cuts and hallways niggaz sold dope, basers smoked their shit or shot it up, however their choice. Cleveland arms was a mess but I loved the shit out of it, it's ghetto to the third power and straight Vietnam. Everybody out here got guns, nigga'z had their guns on their hips if it was small enough but they all had ak 47 and A.R-15's leaning on the walls.

"Damn Tree-cee!" I heard Mike exclaim when I walked to the stairway where him and two other dudes were posted up smoking weed. "What's up Mike?" "Shit you tell me," he smiled showing off a mouth full of gold teeth as he looked me up and down. "Boy stop" I smiled accepting the blunt from Rodney tall black ass. "What's good with you Tree-cee?" Amp, Mike side kick spoke up. "Ain't nothing ... just trying to get that bread." "I know you heard what happen to your boy" Mike said to me. "Who?" I questioned passing the blunt to him. "Big Jason fat-ass." "What happened to him, he locked up or something because I've been calling his cell phone and he ain't been answering his phone at all." "Well I'ma shoot you my number," he replied "because some nigga'z ran off in his house and murked his ass, robbed him and all." "You lying," I replied somewhat in shock ... shit nigga'z die everyday in these streets. "When?" "The word on the streets and news was somewhere between two and three this morning." "Damn, that fucked up." "Hell yeah ... but fuck all that, what's up with me and you?" "Boy you too young." I blushed as all three men gauled at me openly. While I found Mike handsome and all, the boy was a little too wild for me. Nigga'z stay shooting at him even when his baby-mamma be in the car, plus his ass stay in high speed chases along with Amp. I'm fucked up bout a street nigga but you got to have a little heart for a bitch like me. Now Rodney I could fuck with because he reminded me of that fine mutha-fucka off of the movie Boys in the Hood, the one named Ricky. Plus Rodney was over twenty-one with a nice thick wad in his pocket, I could see his black skin sweating all over my high yellow ass right now. "Stop playing with a nigga," Mike said a little disappointed as I eyed Rodney. "Nigga I ain't playing. Anyways, if you want this pussy you gonna have to pay for it." "You really got a nigga fucked up" he stated as a baser walked up. "What's up Mike?" the baser asked. "Ain't shit Jo Willie, what you need?" "Shoot me a twenty." After they exchanged the drugs and money, I asked Mike who was holding weight. "What you talking bout?" "I got thirty five fat ass dimes I'm letting go for two seventy five. That's a seventy-five dollar profit but from what I just saw you serve you could easily sell these for dubs instead of dimes." "let me see what you working with." "Amp watch the streets for me." Pulling my gray sweat pants down a little, I allowed Mike and Rodney to get a glimpse of my pussy as I pulled the bag of dope from the crotch of my thong panties. I fixed my clothes up as Mike examined the dope before accepting my offer. "I'm saying Tree-cee, how much you talking?" Rodney asked me as Amp came back to the group. "What you talking about?" "For that pussy" he bluntly stated grabbing his dick. "One fifty" I replied flatly. "A buck-fifty!" "Yeah ... and if it's good enough I might suck your dick for free" I teased him a little. "Fuck it, it ain't tricking if you got it." "But you ain't got it" Amp joked causing everybody to share a round of laughter while Rodney pulled out his lil wad of money. "Got a real nigga fucked up, I got money nigga." I collected my fee adding it with the two seventy five I got from Mike then asked "your house or mines?" "Fuck all that, it's too far" he said pulling out a condom. "I want to do it right here." "Right here" I said in disbelief. "Boy it's too cold out here to be fucking in this cold ass hallway." "Bitch stop trippin' all you got to do is pull your sweats down a lil and bend over, and I got the rest. I debated a few seconds but it was no use as Rodney stroked his dick to about nine inches before putting the condom on. Rodney and Amp were posted up at the entrance of the stairway, my only concern now was that nobody came out these apartment buildings for some reason. Pulling my cotton sweats pants down over my big ample ass, I hiked up my shirt and sweater and bent over at the waist my shoulders, face and hands pressed against the cold wall. Rodney pulled my thongs to the side and began filling my streaming pussy with his thick slab of meat. Although it was cold out my body was quickly heating up. "Ohh ... shit!" I moaned loudly causing Mike and Amp to laugh while Rodney slid in and out me at a slow pace which quickly picked up. "Don't ... beat ... into ... my pussy ... too ... boldly." "Shut up" was his only response as he grabbed my hips and really began plowing in and out of me. Before I knew I was running from Rodney dick trying to climb up the wall but he was right there with me until one leg was somehow hooked over his arms. I don't know how he managed with my pants around my ankles but he did and he was giving my pussy the royal fucking it really needed. "Oh shit," I heard Amp laugh out "that nigga fucking the shit out of that hoe." I turned my head to see him and Mike looking at me and Rodney as he pounded in and out of me. "Shut ... up ..." I groaned. Rodney was now pulling my pants leg completely off. I hated to admit it but Rodney young ass was doing his thing and I was only seconds away from cumming, something Big Jason was ever able to do unless it was with his tongue. "Ohh shit ... Rodney" I moaned as waves of an intense orgasm washed over me. I don't know what came over me but my eyes closed and I seem to float high above while reflecting over the money me and Lil' Deon was about to make. When I finally came back down Rodney was groaning and shaking up a storm as I felt his dick twitching inside of me. "Damn," Rodney breathed heavily pulling out of me. "You need to shoot a nigga your number ... I might be back to holla at your thick ass." "Ouch boy" I screamed out when he slapped me hard on my behind. "As long as the money up front and that dick is as good as it just was." "So it was good?" "It was alright" I smiled pulling my pants up my sticky thighs before putting my Jordan back on. "What's up with the mouth piece then?" he asked throwing the used condom on the ground his dick semi hard. "I guess" I said getting on my knees.

After sitting in the apartment a hour after Tree-cee left I began thinking a lot about what she was doing to me and why. I really didn't have an answer besides the fact that my daddy had died in the streets trying to conquer Duval, some up and coming young nigga had robbed him for all he had and left me and Tree-cee naked with a dead corpse. I really wanted to go to sleep but after about thirty minutes of tossing and turning I got up and searched through my dirty clothes until I came across the twenty-one grams of coke I had gotten from Tree-cee earlier. I tried my best to remember all that Tree-cee had showed me the previous night about cooking up dope and once I eye balled about a good seven grams I then had a nice size cookie that I immediately cutted up. Throwing on a pair of girbaud pants and my cheerio race car leather jacket I went outside with only one thought on my mind. If Tree-cee wanted me to be the biggest dope boy Duval had ever had then I was damn sure gone try to become him.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Against the GRAINby ALFONZO WILSON Copyright © 2012 by Alfonzo Wilson. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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