On a Mission

by Ms. Michel Moore, T.C. Littles, Blacc Topp

Genres: Christian Suspense

Synopsis

Join Essence®-bestselling authors Ms. Michel Moore and T.C. Littles, along with Novelist Blacc Topp, as they each give you heart-racing, gritty tales of what being On a Mission on the block ultimately means.

WHEN STAYING ON TOP IS THE ONLY OPTION!

Life ain’t never been fair in the treacherous street game. When you play it, you can’t forget there never was and never will be any true honor amongst thieves. It’s do or die. To make major moves and hustle out in the streets, you have zero choices if you want to win. The blueprint is simple: RISE, GRIND, SHINE, and, of course, stay the hell out the way! Between the struggle of avoiding the opposition, law enforcement, and sometimes your own people turning on you, life gets real, and the consequences are even realer.

Release date: December 31, 1969

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

I put my feelings on safety So I don’t go shootin’ where your heart be

I danced around to Ella Mai’s hit “Trip” song as it played through the overhead speakers of my boutique. My vibe was right. My energy felt on point. And there had been a steady flow of customers through the door since I’d opened, which meant I was making money and having an A1 type of day.

My boo Maceo gifted me this storefront close to a year ago. Although it was also intended to be a prop operation that would clean the drug money he was raking in, I’d been starting to go straight legit with my books for the last couple of months, or at least trying to. It felt good having solid credit and not having to get check stubs and bank statements made to get whatever I wanted. I’d run my credit into the hole quick, fast, and in a hurry as soon as I got approved for my first credit card—getting rental cars and running check scams through the ATM on fast hustles his mama had me doing—but that’s a whole different episode to the drama of our love series.

“Ummm, Marley, can you turn that ol’ whiny-ass song off and get some City Girls ‘Act Up’ bumping through the speakers? That soft-ass R&B gonna have me stalking my ex-nigga instead of making room in my heart for my next nigga.” My homegirl Kristina was always ready to turn up.

“Yeah, sis. I got you. All y’all hot-girl summer hoes are going to have the pharmacy jumping by the fall.” I scrolled through my music app until I found my ratchet music playlist. Don’t get me wrong, I loved a good twerking song like the next chick, but I wasn’t obsessing over them. I was more into hip-hop icons like Lil’ Kim and Foxy Brown.

“Aht-aht, don’t be no hater! Just ’cause you’ve been caked up with the same nigga for three years straight doesn’t mean we all like taking the same dick daily. I’m a ho, and I’m admitting it. I’m not taking it back because I’m still doing it.” She remixed the Love & Hip Hop star’s single that had become damn near every thot’s national anthem.

“Ugh, girl, you better hope yo’ coochie don’t fall the fuck off.” I laughed at her silly ass. Kristina was a fluid lover. She didn’t prefer men or women, but either and even both whenever the opportunity presented itself. She stayed getting hers, and I wasn’t hating. She was one of my best friends, not to mention hustling partners.

Krissy had her own section in my boutique because she was one of the coldest designers and seamstresses in the city, and I’m not just saying that because we were technically on the same team gettin’ money. She came through the door with a herd of clientele, which mainly consisted of a gang of dancers since she worked at a slew of strip clubs around the city before we linked up. She and I actually met in one of those clubs when I used to frequent them with Mace.

He was there slanging dope, I was mainly there monitoring, and Krissy was there making dancer costumes. Homegirl never left the club without her trusty needle and thread. She and I ended up getting cool just by being in the same vicinity damn near every night. A lot of the dancers who copped percs, pills, and coke from Mace didn’t like doing so out on the floor. So I stayed in the locker room as the candy lady.

Once Caresha’s and JT’s voices replaced Ella Mai’s, almost every chick shopping got to rocking their hips and singing along to the track. And to keep it real, I had a li’l more pep in my step as I danced to the register. It felt good as hell being on top and succeeding even though I’d been counted out.

“You’ve got some cute clothes in here. A lot of these boutiques popping up around the city be having the same tired two-piece sets and joggers, but you’ve got a dope-ass collection of fly and unique shit.” The customer handed me her credit card.

“Aww, thanks, diva! I appreciate the feedback and love. Tag me on your social media, and I’ll give you fifteen percent off today for looking out.” I adjusted her total and swiped her card.

“Oh, for real? Thanks for the hookup, girl! I got you, and I’ll most definitely be back.”

She looked surprised I was willing to take a few dollars off her tab, but my dude taught me well on the first day he dropped the keys to the shop in my hands. “Throw out a few testers. Get a few loyal custos. And keep it consistent. Don’t dry up. Once you flatline, you lose a fiend.” Maceo knew the streets and taught me the game, and now I was applying it to our business. I stayed branding and using my customers as models with mouthpieces.

Everything in Unique Pieces was tailored for advertisement. I had decals on the wall, custom hangers and tags for all the merchandise, key chains, and T-shirts with my logo and website on them that I gave out randomly. I had access to dope money, so it was easy for me to break the bank to make my shop beautiful. I spared no expense when it came to the contractors who designed my layout idea, or when it came to ordering top-of-the-line items from wholesalers. I was able to order from some of the most exclusive labels and designers because I didn’t have to budget my money and order small amounts. I went big because I could. My name was on the deed, but the money Mace made off the streets kept the storefront stocked.

“Hey, Jos, I’m about to dip early off the back and take care of some school stuff. You good?”

Joslyn was my other homegirl. We’d met through Kristina, but it was like I’d known her for a lifetime. Jos was cool as hell, loyal, and trustworthy, which was rare to find in females nowadays. She was my one and only employee and never came up short or tried to hustle me out of a few dollars by making side deals with customers when I wasn’t around.

“Of course.” She was taking pictures of herself in some pieces from our new shipment. Jos had beautiful chocolate brown skin, a sexy, slim-thick body, and a face that was beautiful without pounds of makeup. She was the face of my boutique all over social media. “By the way, sis, what do you and my brother have planned for y’all anniversary this weekend? I’m just asking just in case you want me to work.”

“That’s why I love you. You’re always on top of shit. I actually do need you to close up. I made reservations for us at the London Chophouse, booked a presidential suite down at the casino, and even got a couple’s massage.” I couldn’t wait for me and Mace to dip off for a night of relaxation. Between the boutique, school, and Mace’s hustling, we hadn’t been spending as much time together as we normally had. It used to be me and him and him and me on the Bonnie and Clyde tip until Unique Pieces opened.

“Oh, okayyy! I know you got some ‘come fuck me’ boots and booty shorts packed already. It’s about time y’all gave me a niece!”

“You sound just like him. But I’m not about to be running around raising him and his kid at the same time. Mace ain’t ready.” My pussy was cuddled up with an IUD, so it would block any and every nut Maceo shot up in me.

“Girl, bye. If he’s asking for kids, you’d better get knocked up and lock him up. Don’t let one of them dancers drooling over him down at the club swoop in and make you a stepmama.”

“Awwwwww, shit, Jos! Don’t stir that crazy bitch up. You know she’ll blow the world up over Mace’s big-headed ass,” Krissy piped into the conversation from out of nowhere.

“Fuck blowing the world up. I’ll send a home-wrecker to heaven in style, then raise the bitch’s baby as my own.” I tapped my hip where my heater was nestled, just in case one of these hot boxes up in here was secretly crushing on him.

Maceo was well-known in the city for being a dough boy and having long money, especially on the west side of Detroit. We couldn’t go to Kentucky Fried Chicken for a $5 Fill Up box without a greasy-fingered broad trying to holler. And we most definitely couldn’t go to the strip club without a flock of hoes trying to throw themselves in his lap. I was praying I wouldn’t have to body a bitch tonight behind my bae, but I would. Mace was more than my man. He was my heart. And one day I was going to rock his last name. I wished a bitch would call herself fuckin’ with my future.

Closing the door to my office, I was glad I’d chosen to add a few suites to the space during the renovation. It was originally one large, open canvas when Mace purchased it. I had my office set up with all the essentials since I spent tons of time online sifting through merchandise, communicating with vendors, working some magic on the books, and now doing my homework. I was taking classes toward an associate’s degree in business, and the marketing course this semester was kicking my ass.

I’d been struggling since the third week but fighting through it because the professor dropped tons of knowledge. Withdrawing from her class would’ve done a disservice to myself and the business I was trying to build. My sales had been pumping since I’d been taking her class, even though it was hard for me to retain all the boring-ass statistics the books delivered. Mace taught me how to hustle, and my professor was teaching me how to brand, market, and expand that hustle.

I was trying my best to come out on top so I could finally show my face to my parents. I’d been disowned by them because they hated Mace, what he stood for as a thug, and what they thought he’d drag me down to. I guess I shouldn’t have given a fuck, but I wanted them to see how wrong they’d been.

Ding! My iMessage notification popped up.

Lance: Hey, lady. How’s it going?

Me: Need to ask? Lol! I’ll be lucky to pull off a 70.

Lance: Who needs luck with good friends?

His last notification came with an attachment labeled Miss Marley’s Study Guide, which was a PDF of all the notes I needed to pull my assignment out of the gutter. I’d been working on the questions for close to an hour but didn’t have enough in-class notes to answer the questions thoroughly.

Me: OMG! You are the best! I owe you big time.

Lance: It’s all good, beautiful. I’ll see you tmrw. That’s a treat within itself.

I giggled at his cornball attempt at flirting, then looked up to Mace walking through the door carrying a bag of food that smelled like heaven. Oh, shit. I locked my messages, then started fumbling with some receipts on my desk. Mace would knock my head smooth off my neck if he knew I was entertaining another man, even if it was within the friend zone. Thankfully, he was so engulfed in his phone conversation that he hadn’t peeped me looking all suspect.

Maceo was rocking a fresh ’fit, a fitted cap with a snakeskin brim, and the Figaro chain with an iced-out M pendant I’d gotten him for his birthday. The M stood for both money, because he was making it, and Maceo for his name. I always be playing with him and saying he could be Mekhi Phifer’s brother because they looked alike except for Mace’s bigger lips and the inches of height he had on the actor.

I’d had to throw my fist into a bunch of crushin’-ass women who had their eyes set on what was mine. Just because I shared him with a jump off every now and then during a threesome, wasn’t no bitch getting ready to slide into my position and live off the fat of the land I’d brought to harvest. Vernelle might’ve birthed a hoodlum and trained him to be a hustler, but I was the one struggling with him in the mud day in and out. I was protective as hell over my man and hoping he wasn’t about to give me a reason to come up out of retirement.

“Yo, tighten ya shit up, li’l homie. Ain’t shit else to be said. You keep coming at me with too many excuses, and that shit ain’t sitting right with my spirit. I’m not giving you no more passes to come up short on a package.” He ended the call. Mace had the worst explosive temper I’d ever seen, which was why I didn’t understand why his workers ever tested his gangster. He stayed strapped with a clip to cause problems.

“Uh-oh, sounds like trouble in paradise. Who’s fucking up now?” His crew stayed giving him headaches.

“Who else but Blue?” He rubbed at that throbbing vein in his forehead. “Dex said he dropped short today when he came for his re-up, then got to talking big bullshit when he told him to push on and holla at me. I swear I’m ’bout ready to body that nigga and just be done with him.”

“It’s nothing for me to send his girl a black dress.” I shrugged, caring even less about Blue’s life than Mace did.

I never liked him no how, plus he knew too much about Mace’s hustle to be given a pass. In our lanes of life, loose ends could either lead to lengthy prison bids or body bags, and Blue wasn’t worth either. I wasn’t even involved in the day-to-day transactions with Mace anymore and knew of three flips Blue didn’t have all his money behind. He was either getting high or flat-out saying fuck the team, and neither of those plays gained you longevity in the game anyway.

“Damn, I really miss yo’ sexy, savage ass riding shotgun with me handling business.” He pulled me out of my chair for a bear hug and a passionate kiss.

“I know you miss me. And I’m only like this ’cause you got me this way.” I met him with puckered lips, then slipped my tongue into his mouth. He must’ve just been blowing on some good-good ’cause the Kushmints taste was still fresh on his tongue.

“Why don’t you get nasty with ya man real quick, baby? You owe me anyway since you were up and gone this morning when I woke up. Ya know I like to start my day juicing.” He started sucking on my neck and trying to slide his hand down the back of my hip-huggers, but they were too tight. I was wearing a size too small so my booty would look fatter.

“I’m not trying to get busted wide open while the boutique is full of customers.” I pointed at the camera’s monitor while trying to fight off the temptation at the same time.

“Girl, stop muthafuckin’ playin’ with me and take these too-tight-ass jeans off. You know I don’t give a fuck about none of them hoes.” Mace’s response was rough and unapologetic as always. Part of his roughneck personality was what attracted me to him in the first place.

As soon as I did what I was told, Mace had me bent me over my desk with his dick so far up in me that it felt like my guts were about to explode. There wasn’t no lovin’ in this sex session, just straight buckin’ and fuckin’. I was trying my best to throw it back and keep up with his stamina, but he was stroking my coochie with a rhythm I couldn’t compete with.

“Ooohhh, shiiit.” I squirmed as the pressure started building up. The feeling was familiar. I was about to melt on his manhood like butter.

“Yeah, I feel that pussy talking to me. Let ’er rip for me,” he whispered into my ear, then began sucking on it. He was tapping all the right spots.

“I love you.” I was stuttering, damn near speaking in tongues.

“I love you more.” He licked my face and started tickling my booty hole on some freaky shit that pushed me over the edge.

I always ended up with a sore coochie, hickeys, and sometimes even bruises whenever Mace got into his animalistic zone, but I wasn’t complaining and never did. He was knocking my shit out of the frame, and I was loving every second of it. Like he said, fuck them hoes if they heard us. I was all about my man.

“Go grab me a warm rag out the bathroom, with yo’ messy ass!” Marley frowned at her cum-covered stomach. “And you better have not shot no nut on my new merchandise either.”

“Girl, shut up before I drop this dick back off in yo’ guts and leave my nut there. The only time you know how to talk to your man nowadays is when I’m stroking you down.” I strategically played with her clit while I wiped her clean. I needed her in the best mood possible for what I was about to ask her to do.

On cue, she started moaning and arching her back, eager for another session. I swear I loved her freaky ass, and my manhood was twitching to climb back in her warmth. But I had business on the floor to handle, and they were hitting me up in the background on silent. Despite the temptation, I finished wiping Marley clean, then stood her up so she could get dressed.

“Don’t put them tiny-ass pants back on. You got another size that fits right, I’m sure.” I eyed her as I adjusted my jeans. I ain’t give a fuck that mainly females shopped at the boutique. She didn’t need no pants on that looked like paint. I didn’t like for what was mine to be on display.

“Shut up about my pants, Mace. Dang! I see your plan was to come in here bullying me.” She rolled her eyes, but she moved toward the stock of pants and pulled out a brand-new pair. “Happy now?”

“Yup, very.” I slapped her booty cheeks right before she finished getting the new pair around her waist.

Me and Marley had hella history. We were three years deep into our relationship, which I didn’t think was going to last past the few months she held out on a nigga. I thought that three-month rule was some made-for-TV shit, so it really blew my mind when shorty had me waiting, licking coochie like a sucka. I ain’t never licked a clit so much in my damn life trying to get that girl to fuck. But I stuck around and fell for her in the meantime.

She knew her worth, and that shit spoke volumes over all the other females yelping in my ear, throwing their goods to me with no strings attached or bills paid. I was a young nigga getting bread, so the older women thought they could control me, and the young ones were too dumb to keep up with the fast life and talking I did. I’d been in the streets since I was 12, so a bitch with some A1 head didn’t faze me.

Marley made herself something special out of the gate and even dropped some knowledge on my lap when it came to how I was hustling. Truth be told, she smartened me up. She was the brains, and I was the beast. So once she did drop her panties for me to finally fuck, she pussy whipped me, and I ain’t been right since. I was mad territorial over her and our relationship regardless of the li’l creepin’ I did in the streets from time to time. A nigga was just a knucklehead. No chick in the world could hold a candle to Marley.

“I’ll meet you at the crib in a couple of hours. I’ve gotta shoot a few moves.” I brushed my waves down and threw my fitted cap back on.

“Yeah, okayyy.” She eyed me suspiciously. “You better make sure you’re at the crib at a decent time or I’m tossing your shit to the curb. Don’t think just because I’ve been in my bag I haven’t still been checking for you.” She crossed her arms and tried cutting her eyes through my soul. Marley swore she was a fuckin’ spiritual mind reader when it came to my black ass.

“There ain’t a day on the calendar safe for you to toss my shit out,” I chuckled. “But you can be easy. I didn’t forget about us hitting Krissy’s gig tonight. Are you talking ’bout getting off with a li’l girl-on-girl action, too?” Marley wasn’t bisexual but was a freak for me. We’d only had maybe three threesomes but stayed hitting titty clubs before she went back to school.

“Not the fuck tonight,” she snapped, catching me off guard. “And speaking of that, fun is fun, and I know we play around, but don’t mess around and lose your head tonight being friendly with them throwaways. Jos told me how you’ve been at the bar looking like a puppy dog who ain’t got no pussy at home whenever I’m at school.” She mushed me in the forehead.

“Yo, tell your friends to quit trying to start drama between you and yo’ man and get a man to watch. You know I don’t like that ‘he said, she said’ feminine shit. And get yo’ hand up outta my face. You know I don’t like that shit either.” I knocked her hand away, then quickly threw mine up to block her from swinging on me. Marley was feisty when she wanted to be, plus I knew how her girls could get in her head.

“Don’t put the doggish-ass shit you do on my friend, Mace. I’m not stupid or a fool. Soooo, like I said, don’t make me put my finger back in yo’ ugly-ass face.” She shoved past me and started picking up the merchandise we’d knocked over.

“Are you pregnant or something? You’ve been acting hella bipolar with a nigga.” I was side-eying her.

“Naw, I’m not pregnant, and don’t jinx me!” She caught even more of an attitude. “The last thing I need is a clone of your crazy ass running around.”

“You think having my seed is a jinx, Marley? Straight up? That’s some fucked-up shit to say. A li’l homie I could run around and hoop with wou. . .