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team.
"Yo, I told you we shoulda got that dope now this muthafucka trippin'. Why you aint ask me what I wanted to do?" Omar projected.
I turned and faced him, "Trust me on this. This workin' for Biz shit is runnin' out of gas. Aint no future in it for me and you, we can’t keep
breaking this nigga off 30 percent every lick. Plus shit aint poppin' like it used to, we only hittin' niggas once every two or three months, that aint shit! I been thinkin' on some new shit we can get off. If we do it right, we can both be millionaires.”
"Yeah I feel you, so what's the plan?" He
asked.
"I got a few more details to work out first. Gimme’ a few days, and I'll drop it on you. But yo, we need to stay ready case this old ass nigga wanna flex. Keep ya eyes open, aight?"
"Tyce, I wish that muthafucka would. I keep heat for situations like this!” Omar said convincingly.
    I reached behind me, grabbed the bag off the back seat, and started countin’ the stacks. It was an even two hundred and forty thousand dollars. I put a hundred and twenty thousand back in the bag and handed it to Omar, I put the rest in my leather backpack.
"Don't that shit look better than tha eighty four thousand you woulda got fuckin’ with Biz? I questioned.
Omar raised a stack to his nose and sniffed it, "Hell yeah, it smell better too."
    We got back on the freeway and sped toward the city. Omar drove into an underground parking garage and stopped next to my Range. I gave him a pound and jumped out. Wasting no time, I got in and mashed out. I hit the CD button on the steering wheel, and “ Jagged Edge” blared from my speakers.
" I love it when you grind on me. When you take ya time on me. When you put a little uummph in it. That's when I lose control. When you put a little uummph in it. Start squeezin' and you won’t let gooo!
    I sang along bobbing my head, they was the only singing niggas that got play in my rides. I wasn't with that crying “ Keith Sweat” type shit, niggas whining about how much they love her and wanna make love all night long... please . If it takes a nigga all night long to satisfy a woman…he aint hitting it right. I was feeling good despite my aching chest muscles. I was about to make a move that would set me up for life. It was three o’clock in the morning but I was in the mood for some company. I pulled my cell out and called Honey; she ran a high priced escort service and was familiar with my taste in women. Unlike Omar, I didn't want a girlfriend. They took up to much time and energy. I preferred a professional when I wanted some pussy. I didn't have to wine and dine these women, they didn't blow my phone up when I was taking too long to get home, and I wasn't financing shopping sprees every fucking weekend either. I paid-we laid-she left. Simple.
    I checked into a room at the “ Four Seasons” hotel. I took a long shower letting the hot water soothe my chest and changed clothes. I always kept a new outfit and an overnight bag in my trunk just in case I needed it. I was watching “ Mike Tyson's” greatest hits on “ ESPN” when the phone rang.
"Mr. Adkins, there's a lady by the name of Dallas at the front desk to see you."
"Okay, send her up." I said turning the TV down.
    Moments later, I heard a soft knock at the door. I looked through the peephole just to make sure it was her. You can never be too careful. I opened the door and Dallas stepped in. She was 5 feet 4 inches of pure and uncut sexy. Her hair was black with caramel highlights; it was pinned up allowing one curly lock to fall on the side of her auburn face. The sea green dress she was wearing embraced her curves and stopped right below her round ass, a little black moe was perfectly placed above her succulent lips. Dallas was the type of woman that wore “ Victoria Secret ” period panties. She didn't fuck with low budget niggas. Her company tonight would cost me two thousand dollars.
My eyes moved slowly over her, "Thank you for comin'."
"You’re very