and shut like doors…Is you a friend or foe?
Nigga you ain’t know?”
Feeling on top of the world, Red took three massive gulps, and the rest of the liquor was finished. Red lowered his limo-tinted driver’s side window, and tossed the empty two hundred dollar bottle liquor out. Quickly, Red reached behind him where three more bottles sat in the back seat. Grabbing one of the pint sized bottles, he opened the top, and took a heavy swig that went down smooth. Every part of his six feet eight inches, weighing around two hundred and thirty-five-pound frame was on fire. The hundred-proof-rum left him with a heated sensation, easing down his chest. Red blew air out his mouth as if he was exhaling smoke, causing his eyes to squint.
“That’s some good shit right there,” he smiled, muttering to himself.
1:44 a.m. His night was progressing exactly as planned. Red’s smile reflected that of a hustler finally reaching the apex of his game. Fueled by the potent alcohol, Red was now officially stuck in a euphoric zone. Shifting his gaze toward the time on his canary diamond-studded, rose gold ice-link watch, he nodded his head.
Red’s mentor, and confidant was Low. He was the reason Red finally accomplished his lifelong goal. Illegitimate or not, the fiery, ambitious teenager was now of millionaire status. For the division-1 college basketball prospect that dropped out of high school in his senior year this wasn’t too bad. After abandoning his hoop dreams, and a full scholarship to any university in the country, Red made it in another game.
Ditching school for the grind of the street, Red chose to finance his sister, Torri’s college education. He pursued the less guaranteed route, becoming a stellar street scholar. To gamble on such a critical decision would’ve been disastrous if he failed. So there was no room for any losses. Because of that Red didn’t make a move unless his heart was completely with it.
Red was taking a great risk when he chose to hustle instead of going to college, but couldn’t give up the chance of becoming a member of Zoe Pound. It was one of the most financially prosperous criminal organizations in the United States. He would be under the tutelage of the most notoriously feared drug lord of the nation’s underworld—Low. This was a one in a million opportunity Red just couldn’t pass up.
And I ain’t stoppin’
‘Til I’m well paid
Bails paid
Now nigga, look what hell made
Visions of cops and sirens
Niggas open fire
Bunch a Thug…
Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Red knew the last thing he needed was to have his spit-clean arrest record ruined by a reckless felony. He was in possession of an unlicensed handgun while driving under the influence. Red throttled the speeding car down to a respectable forty miles-per-hour. Then sucking his teeth, Red let out a long sigh. Activating the right turn signal, he guided the car to the exit lane, entering the Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport.
Red hated being anywhere in the vicinity of downtown, ATL. He never partied or enjoyed nightclubs. Always about making that money, Red cast a hater’s glance at ‘the scene’ and being seen. All of his clientele lived in and around the suburbs therefore being in the city was never a necessity. Only if he were heading out of state on one of his business trips would he drive to the airport.
Unfortunately for Red, his sister, Torri, was coming into the airport tomorrow, and he was scheduled to pick her up. The thought of that trip made him sigh heavily. Red was well aware of how freely the ‘alphabet boys’ - FBI, DEA, and ATF roamed this part of the city. Their headquarters were in the downtown area. Red held onto the common sense belief of not showing his face at the local strip clubs, celebrity restaurants, and social events.
Staying out of the spotlight was what a lot of hustlers failed to do, and became a portrait for the ‘alphabet boys’. He was not only cautious, but was sharper than your average hustler. Red wanted to be in the game for the long haul, and avoided the ‘scene’ at all costs.
Taking the airport exit, heading toward the Royal Sonesta Hotel & Resort, Red shrugged off the dislike for being in the city. Torri would be returning home from four years of college at the University of Miami. Red hadn’t seen his beloved sister since her last visit a year ago. He couldn’t wait to see the huge smile she would be wearing when he presented the spanking new ‘09 db9 Volante Convertible, Aston Martin he bought for her graduation gift. Red went the extra mile with his gift. He had the luxury sports car shipped off to California, where it was gutted, and customized to his liking. Red even had ‘Torri’ stitched into all four of the car’s headrests in bold script.
He wanted to get himself, and Torri out the hood. Red accomplished this, but unfortunately he realized that Torri’s heart was out of his hands. All he could do was help her move on from her broken relationship. Along with the new car, Red leased a two-bedroom luxury condo in Atlanta’s exclusive Buckhead residential area for Torri. He also had fifty thousand dollars deposited into an American Express prepaid Credit card account. Torri was ready to start graduate school in the fall. Red planned on paying the full tuition—another surprise he wanted to reveal when she arrived.
Red guided his beluga black on black rims, two-door Mercedes Benz SLR McLaren to the front entrance lobby of the luxurious Royal Sonesta Resort Hotel, and Casino. He pulled to a stop in front of a valet. For a moment, Red wondered why Low booked a room at such a well-known hot spot. Then smiling, he quickly shook his head. Red knew that Low was a big-time trick, and a sucker for fine women.
The choice of hotel told Red that Low definitely had some five-star pussy up there with him, and he was trying to impress her. Two taps on the driver’s side window broke Red’s train of thought, and his smile disappeared into a frown. Turning the cars sound system off, he lowered the tinted window just enough for his eyes to be seen. Red glared at the young valet with a cold stare.
“Yo…?” he sneered.
“Uh… Yes, sir…”
A valet reluctantly approached when he saw the person sitting behind the wheel of the expensive vehicle. Smiling nervously, the valet said, “I was just kindly wondering if you had any luggage that needed to be taken up to your suite with you, sir?”
Sucking his teeth, Red said, “Nah, I’m just picking up someone.”
Then he gave the valet an icy stare, and with a sweeping gesture of his hand, Red signaled for the valet to get away from his car. The valet flashed an uncomfortable smile.
“Very well, sir,” he said, nodding, and rushing to another vehicle.
His driver’s side window up, Red turned up the volume. Suddenly his iPhone vibrated. Shifting his gaze down toward the phones screen, Red saw the message.
Daddy I’m soaking wet. Where R U?
It was the fourth text in the past thirty minutes Lovely sent him. She was blowing up his phone, but Red couldn’t blame her. He was supposed to be at her house an hour and a half ago. Red didn’t bother to respond. Letting out a deep sigh, he reclined himself in the cars leather seats, resting his deep waves on the seat’s headrest with a mischievous smile on his face, thinking. Lovely was one of Low’s bad bitches.
Lovely’s pussy was A-1. Behind Low’s back, Lovely had given Red a taste of the goodies. Since then, Red could not
