A South Central Love Affair Page 2

  “Bella!” Franklin called out from downstairs.

  “Oh, fuck!” Marbella cursed. She and Zonyai hopped out of bed in a race to put their clothes back on.

  “I thought you said he’d be gone a couple of days?” Zonyai asked, zipping up his Levi’s and trying to force in his foot into an already laced sneaker.

  “That’s what he told me,” she replied in a hushed tone.

  “Bella, where the fuck are you?”

  “I’m in our bedroom, sweetie,” she yelled back to her husband, shoving Zonyai’s shirt into his arms and pushing him into the closet. She quietly closed the door and sprayed perfume to mask the smell of sex lingering in the air. Panic invaded her emotions and fear gripped her heart like a strong pair of hands, hearing Franklin’s heavy footfalls as he climbed the stairs while she made up the bed. Marbella grabbed a book called The Beast of the Cartel from off the dresser and dove on the bed. She was pretending to read it when she saw Zonyai’s .357 Magnum lying on the dresser. Damn, she thought, rolling out of bed. Hurriedly, she snatched the pistol and dropped it out the window into the bushes in the backyard.

  “Where is he?” Franklin’s voice boomed from the doorway, startling her. She turned around looking like a child who’d gotten caught with their hand in a cookie jar.

  “Where’s who?” she asked, playing dumb.

  He pushed her aside and stuck his head out of the window, scanning the backyard with suspicious eyes. Once he didn’t find any evidence of someone being there, he pulled his head back inside and pulled the window shut. His nose scrunched up immediately afterwards. He tilted his head back and sniffed the air. “What the hell is that smell?” his face balled tight, wrinkling his forehead. “Smells like...like... pussy...” he sniffed the air again, “and weed.” The Mafioso casted his accusing eyes on his wife, narrowing his lids.

  “Oh, it’s me, I’m a little funky. I was about to hop into the shower, but then I heard you calling me,” she told him, looking guilty as all hell. She may as well have the word spelled out on forehead in big bold letters with a black Sharpie marker.

  Franklin shoved her aside en route to the bathroom. When she righted herself, she watched him perform his search, hoping and praying he didn’t find her secret lover. He pulled back the shower curtain and checked behind the door. Finding nothing, he left the bathroom and headed straight for the closet. Marbella’s heart was beating so fast she thought it was going to explode.

  Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

  Through her almond brown eyes, it looked like her husband was moving in slow motion. His arms and legs moved as if they were being held back by something very heavy. She zeroed in on his meaty hand as it reached for the doorknob of the closet. Slowly, he turned the knob and it clicked open.

  Thump! Thump! Thump! Thump!

  Sweat ran down her forehead and trickled from off the tip of her nose, she wringed her fingers. Pleading with God Almighty to somehow make the man of her dreams vanish from the space she’d hidden him in.

  Please, God, oh please, help Yai, if he’s still in there.

  Thump! Thump! THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!

  Her heart beat got louder and harder the further he pulled the door open. Her eyes stretched wide open and her jaw dropped when he was standing face to face with...the vacant closet.

  “Haa,” she sighed with relief and dropped her shoulders. She wiped the beads of sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. Her chest rose and fell easily having experienced all of that stress. She closed her eyes and when she peeled them back open, Franklin was pulling the drawstring to the light bulb dangling from the ceiling inside of the closet. The florescent light exploded from the spacious area. He pushed apart the racks on top of racks of clothes and kicked over shoe boxes looking for the man that was banging his wife. Finding nothing, he whipped around looking like the Jack Ass that he truly was, scratching his temple and glancing around the enormous bedroom.

  “I told you I was here alone,” she said, closing the closet door and placing her hands on her hips. “What’s the meaning of all of this?”

  “What’s the meaning you ask me? I gotta fuckin’ call on my way to da airport that says you’re up here bangin’ some fuckin’ eggplant!”

  “Well, I’m the only one here, sweetheart, I promise you that.” She cupped his face and kissed him tenderly on the lips. The form of affection seemed to calm his anger a bit.

  Placing one hand on her curvaceous hip and wagging a plump finger in her face with the other, he looked her dead in her eyes. “You know should I eva catch ya fuckin’ around wit anyone and I do mean anyone... that would be the end of ya, the both of ya’z.”

  “Mmmmm,” she grinned, holding his gaze and his face. “You don’t ever have to worry about that handsome, ‘cause you’re the only hunk I need and want in my life.”

  “Boss, are ya alright up there?” Jackie Needles called out.

  “I’m good, stay down there; I’ll be out in a minute,” he hollered over his shoulder, gripping that bodacious ass of hers with his massive palms.

  “You sure?” he called out again.

  “I’m sure of two things right now, Jackie Boy. One, I’m gonna fuck my wife and two, if you come up here I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya.”

  “Alright, Skipper.”

  “Baybeee, that wasn’t nice.” She slid her hands down his chest as he pulled her closer to him, feeling his hardened dick pressed up against her stomach.

  “I’m sorry, doll, but ya know I’m crazy about my pudding,” he pulled her into him. “Besides, you know Jackie Boy is a perv. Just the thought of another man seeing what belongs to me drives me fuckin’ nuts. You forgive me?” He gave her a pair of puppy dog eyes and a pouty lip.

  “Awww, my baby,” she faked feeling sorry for him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Looking over her shoulder, she located Zonyai’s sneaker on the floor beside Franklin’s foot. Holy, shit!Thinking fast, she shoved him onto the bed and he plopped down. Stepping toward him, she kicked the lone sneaker underneath the bed and straddled her man. She unbuttoned his shirt and revealed his hairy chest, sliding her hands down around his belly. She planted gentle kisses on his neck and collarbone.

  “Let me see if I can get cho mind off of your little friend down stairs,” she said between kisses, licking and sucking on his nipples, drawing hisses from him.

  “Sssssssssss,” he mimicked a rattle snack rising and ready to attack. Eyes closed, teeth biting down on his thin bottom lip. “What chu...what chu...what chu gonna do, sweetheart?”

  “I’m gonna make you cum so hard that your toes are gonna curl,” she replied, gently pulling on his nipple with her pearly white teeth.

  “Oooooooh, God, yes,” he shuttered as she came up, nibbling on his ear then sucking on his lobe. A cell phone went off and she ignored it, but Franklin’s eyes snapped open. He’d heard it loud and clear.

  “You hear that?” he asked, listening closer, head snapping from left to right, trying to decipher where the tune was coming from.

  “Yeah, babe, it’s my cell. Don’t worry about it; my voice mail will pick it up.”

  “Bullshit, that’s not your ringtone,” he frowned and squared his jaws, shoving her over onto the bed. The ringing had stopped by the time he got upon his feet, but he knew where it was coming from now. He reached under the bed and dragged Zonyai out by the ankle. “I fucking knew it.” He went to grab him by the collar of his shirt and he kicked him in the face. Wamp! The force of the blow sent him slamming into the wall and caused the bedroom to slightly quake. He stood to his feet and Franklin stood to his, angrier than before. Through his eyes, he saw red and his nostrils were pulsating. The two men squared up, with Marbella standing on the bed begging them to stop. Her head was whipping from left to right, worry etched across her face. She didn’t know what the hell to do.

  “Stop! Stop it! The both of you stop!” she bellowed, with glassy eyes and veins rolling up her neck.

  “We’re coming, Skipper!” Jackie Nee
dles called out.

  “Hold on!” Joey-T said after him, climbing the steps hastily on his heels.

  Franklin threw his sledgehammer like fists like the ex-amateur boxer he was. For a three hundred and fifty pound man he was quick, but his opponent was just that much quicker. He bobbed and weaved the bigger man’s advances, and let loose with a fierce combination of punches.

  Bwop! Wop! Bwap! Crack!

  All of the punches connected, but they did little to faze the giant. Franklin kept his game face, licking the blood from his trickling lip and waited for the flaw in his opponent’s technique. The hustler threw a right hook and he ducked it, stepping back, fists up ready to get it in. Franklin threw two solid punches into his mid-section and stole the victory with an uppercut.

  Bwappp!

  The blow sent the young man up into the air and crashing down on his back with his legs up, unconscious.

  Chapter Two

  Seeing Zonyai out cold, Franklin cracked the knuckles on both of his hands, preparing to finish him off.

  “Ahhhhhhh!” a feral scream came from his rear, mouth stretched open. Her acrylic nails formed like flesh tearing talons to do maximum damage. She latched onto his back like a cat, biting at his neck and scratching. “Get off of him!” spittle flew from off of her lips.

  “Aaarrr!” He grimaced and jerked her from his back. She fell and hit her head on the edge of the dresser, lying there barely conscious, moaning in pain.

  Jackie Needles and Joey-T came running through the door, guns hanging at their sides. They looked from a bobble headed Marbella to their boss who was sweating and holding a knocked out black man by his ankle.

  “We’re going down in the basement to teach this fuckin’ jig a lesson,” he told his men, his flabby hairy chest inflating and deflating. With that said, he dragged his victim out of the bedroom causing his cell phone to slip out of his pocket along the way. Marbella groaned coming out of her daze. When her vision came into play, she saw the backs of her husband and his men as they abandoned the bedroom. Her eyes shot down and she identified her secret lover’s cellular.

  “Mufasa,” she said under her breath, scrambling over to the device and picking it up. After finding the number that she was looking for, she pressed call and pressed the cell to her ear. “Hello? Mufasa?” she sighed with relief, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Thank God you answered. It’s Bella. You’ve gotta get to my house quick. Yai is in trouble. No! I think Franklin is going to kill him!”

  ****

  Bump! Bump! Bump! Bump!

  Zonyai winced as his head hit each step on his way down the staircase. He was being drug like a carcass by the mafia don. Click! Clack! Trackkk! Franklin unlocked the basement door and flipped on the light switch that resided outside of the doorway. He then hoisted Zonyai up under his arms and threw his ass down the steps. The young man went tumbling down the flight and sliding across the floor, bumping up against the washing machine.

  “You pushed dick inside of the wrong man’s wife, cock sucka,” the big man grumbled, pulling off his button down shirt and tossing it aside. He was now in his wife beater and slacks.

  Snikt!

  He removed the fire axe from the hooks at the far corner wall and approached the furnace.

  “Plant that piece of shit in that chair over there and tie ‘em down,” he ordered his loyalist men as he got the furnace going. Froooosh! Flames erupted like an explosion had occurred. When he turned around, his men had just finished strapping Zonyai to an iron chair. He made his way in his direction. The young man was starting to come to and his vision had begun to come into play. Once he was able to focus, all he saw was the crime boss’s silhouette as the flames of the furnace licked in the background. He looked like some kind of beast with him partially being hidden in the shadows and his chest jumping up and down with his breathing. His eyes shot to the axe in his hand and its blade twinkled when the illumination in the background hit it. The head honcho stopped before him staring down into his eyes, his pupils drowned in hatred. Zonyai stared up at him defiantly, refusing to show fear in the face of danger. Fuck that, if he was going to go out then so be it but he would leave this world as a gangsta not a bitch ass nigga. The men studied one another eyes for a time. Then came the words. Although Zonyai couldn’t see his lips move because of the darkness, he knew that he was the one that gave the order.

  “Fuck ‘em up!”

  Crack!

  Joey-T cracked Zonyai in the jaw and his eyes rolled into the back of his head, causing him to bobble. Next, Jackie Needles fired on him, throwing his head back in the opposite direction and splitting open his cheek. From there they both tucked their guns away and went to work beating the dog shit out of dude.

  ****

  Meanwhile

  Loud rapping at the front door brought Marbella hurrying down the staircase and nearly tripping over herself. She sprung her ankle and hobbled along with her foot bent at her back. Peeking through the peephole, she hastily unchained and unlocked the door, pulling it open. The first man across the threshold was Mufasa. His sophistication and power moved right along with him. He was a tall, brown skinned man that wore a goatee and a fade with a razor sharp edge up. He was a drug czar and easily one of the most powerful men in Southern California.

  “Where’s my boy?” Mufasa asked, with an indented forehead, switching hands with his shotgun.

  “He’s down in the basement, hurry!” she held the door open with one hand and pointed to the basement door with the other. He gave a nod and proceeded to the door where his right hand was being held hostage. Three men bring up his rear. All of them were packing heat and ready to wet some bitch ass niggaz shirts up.

  “Wayne, open her up!” Mufasa ordered one of the men with him.

  “Shit, its locked,” he responded.

  “Step back!”

  Bloom! Boom! Bang!

  The basement’s door lock was blown out by the powerful blast of the czar’s weapon. Right after that, the door was coming down off of its hinges from two calculated kicks. The door came crashing down, sliding down the staircase and sliding across the basement’s floor. Joey-T and Jackie Needles whipped around drawing their guns on the approaching men. Mufasa, Zesus, Brolic and Wayne stood facing them guns cocked, locked and poised to spit death.

  “Ah, nah, not my nigga,” Brolic eyebrows arched and his jaws pulsated, taking in Zonyai’s appearance, he had his Desert Eagle trained on the opposition. He was a light skinned cat with hazel brown eyes and hulking muscles. This bald head, chipped toothed goon was dangerous and quick to take action. When niggaz got out of line, Mufasa let this wild ass nigga off of his leash to restore order.

  “Damn, that’s my nigga, Yai?” Wayne commented on his homeboy’s current state, his twin .9mms pointed at the opposing threat. He was a little bronze toned dude with lengthy brunette hair, which he kept in six neat cornrows and tied off at the end.

  “Frank, can you tell me why my boy’s gagged and tied to a chair looking like he accidently stumbled into a Klu Klux Klan rally?” Mufasa asked, with the stock of his shotgun braced against his shoulder and aimed at the Mafia don. His finger was settled on the trigger and he was dying to hug it.

  Franklin hoisted the axe over his shoulder and turned to address Mufasa, his meaty hand grasping it tighter. “I’ll tell ya why, I caught this heap of shit,” he took the time to smack Zonyai upside his head. Smack! “in bed with my wife.”

  “Bullshit!” he spat back at him.

  “Oh yeah? Well, go ahead and ask ‘em!” He swung around in a flash, punching Zonyai in the stomach causing him to wince and double over, head bobbling about.

  “Ah, hell naw, Wayne, shoot this mothafucka, cuz!” Brolic shouted to his cousin. Tears sliding down his cheeks from seeing his right-hand fucked up like that and being further ridiculed. They were as good as brothers. The two of them had been down for one another since free lunch and Hide-And-Go-Get it.

  “Y’all hold on, hold up!” The Head N
igga In Charge glanced at the youngest soldiers under his command. Brolic and Wayne tightened their jaws and glared at the mobster and his men. Joey-T blew a kiss at Brolic and he breathed fire through his flaring nostrils. He wanted to lay him down, but he wasn’t going to go against his boss’s orders just yet.

  Mufasa continued, giving the young man that had been like a son to him his undivided attention.

  “Can you hear me, son? Is there any truth to what this man is saying?” Zonyai threw his head back but settled his chin back down to his chest. His face was bloody, battered, bruised and swollen; groaning in pain was his response.

  “Look at him, Fasa. They fucked my man up bad,” Wayne inspected the damage done to his man thoroughly. He was like his cousin. All three of them were like that, Wayne, Brolic and Zonyai. Although neither of them shared the same blood, they were still as good as family. “Fuck these niggaz, cuz! OG, you give the word and the godfather and his flunkies are holograms, on the set,” the young nigga swore.

  “Why don’t chu shut your mouth?” Joey-T shouted.

  “Why don’t chu suck my dick?” Wayne belted angrily.

  “Oh my God!” a voice boomed from the brothers rear. They stole a quickly glance behind them and found Marbella with tears sprawling down her face, cupping her hands to mouth hysterically. She ran from between Mufasa and his goons over to the love of her life. “Oh, Zonyai, what have they done to you?” she sobbed on her knees, wrapping her arms around his waist. She looked up into his eyes and he stared back, managing a weak smile.

  “Hey, baby,” he spoke weakly.

  “See?” Franklin’s head snapped up from looking at the display of affection between his wife and the young man.

  Mufasa made an observation of the show of intimacy between the mob figure’s wife and his lieutenant. The big man was telling the truth and it was presented to him right before his very eyes.