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bragged. “Even after I got shot. The game went into a tailspin after you left. The leadership was gone, and hungry niggahs was tryna come up left and right. It was dog-eat-dog out there, man. Click-kill-click. But the strong survived, and now,” he said proudly, “I just about own Harlem, girl. I got my hand on a good half of that town. I don’t even go up around our old way that much no more, but I’m still runnin’ things.”
    Good for you, I wanted to say. But instead I said, “Yeah, I heard shit got crazy. I also heard Cooter got killed. I ran into his sister on Rikers and she told me he was gone.”
    Flex got quiet, and his bony shoulders seemed to sag.
    “Yo, that was my dude, man,” he shook his head. “Next to Jimmy, he was my closest dog. And they fucked him up. All he was doing was tryna pick up a few leads so he could get put down on some action. And them niggahs pounced on him.”
    Flex swiped one hand down his face slowly, then said, “I got them fools, though. My dude Cooter caught a bad one, but I paid them niggahs back five times as bad. That’s why don’t nobody out there wanna go head up with me now, Juicy. I let it be known that if you fuck with me and my team, you and yours is getting straight smashed. And that’s word.”
    I just looked at him. Flex was young and dumb. He was just like Jimmy had been. Real young, and real damn dumb. All that drug drama and street commotion reminded me of how much I had hated the thought of my brother grinding in the streets for G.
    Except, G was way smoother with his flow than Flex could ever be. At forty-six, G had been cruel, callous, and ruthless, but he wasn’t harsh, or gutter, or grimy with his game like a lot of these young hoods were. G had had a lethal, icy cool that it was gonna take Flex, no matter how fly he dressed or how many niggahs he popped, at least another thirty years of hard-knock living to perfect.
    I looked down at all the food on my plate. I had piled on enough to feed two grown men, but I was full after just a few mouthfuls.
    “You got some foil?” I asked, rubbing my eyes. “I’m too tired to finish.” 
    Flex set his plate down and jumped to his feet.
    “My bad, Juicy. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking. Damn, girl, I gotta remember you’s a lady. You probably tired, huh? A’ight,” he said, taking my plate and pulling me to my feet and back toward his bedroom. “I’ma let you get some sleep, baby, okay? The sheets are silk, girl. Fresh out the pack, a hunnid percent, word. You wanna take a hot bath? I put some nice shit for you in the bathroom, so go for it. There’s warm towels, some of that bubble shit, baby powder, lotion, a couple of them fancy-type pajamas…everything is for you, Juicy. I still love the shit outta you, ma, and every single thing up in this bitch is for you .”
     

CHAPTER 7
     
     
    “Ease up,” Monique whispered and pushed two fingers against Bilal’s sweaty forehead. She didn’t know who the hell had taught his young ass how to eat pussy but they’d taught him all wrong. He was too damn rough, pressing his whole face into her stuff and making her clit sore.
    “Softer,” she instructed him as he dipped his face back into her warmth again. Almost every young boy who grinded for the G-Spot crew needed to be schooled on how to fuck, and Monique was just the right teacher.
    She thrust her pelvis forward and pulled Bilal by his dreadlocks as she rubbed herself on his face. This time his lips were pleasing and his tongue was nice and wet as he went back to work, licking and sucking the way she liked it.
    Monique let him eat her out for a while, and then she turned the tables and went to work on him. His young ass didn’t know what had hit him. He couldn’t do shit with all them titties and that beastly ass she was packing on her, and he was moaning and trembling as Mo put some of her specialty moves down on him until she had him weak and soft, exactly the way she wanted him.
    She