Riding Shotgun

by Racquel Williams

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

What would you do to hold on to the good life? Would you let your man lie and cheat on you? Would you turn your head when the truth is hitting you dead in the face?
Akila Jones had a rough childhood growing up in one of Richmond’s grimiest projects. She learned early on that she had to boss up, go in savage mode, and take care of herself by any means necessary. Things are starting to look up for her
when she falls for Mari, a well-known hitta from Virginia Beach. Little does she know she is destined for all the drama that comes with dating a dude with money.
She’ll learn fast that good sex and playing the good girl are not enough to keep her wild lover under control.
Mari is young, rich, and arrogant. His messed-up mentality toward females only makes it worse when he snatches up this young girl who is desperate for a better life. His ignorant behavior makes him oblivious to the fact that danger is on the
way, and his life is about to turn upside down in the blink of an eye.
Take a rocky ride with this couple who are toxic for each other but continue to play this dangerous game of love, lies, and betrayal.

Release date: July 26, 2022

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Damn, nigga, hurry up and come,” I pleaded through tears to Mari while digging my fingers into his bare skin.

My legs were up on his shoulder, and, as usual, this nigga was digging deep into my guts. His big-ass dick was hurting my insides. This wasn’t new. I knew his dick was too big for me from the day I met him. I had no idea why I kept fucking this nigga when, for days, I walked around with a sore pussy, scared to wash with soap. I would try using cold water, but that only made it worse, stinging the hell out of me.

“Open up, shawty. I’m about to bust. Oh shit . . . Open up,” he said for the thousandth time, and I knew damn well it was a lie. He thinks he’s slick. Each time he got close to busting, he would pull out his dick, slow fuck me, and then sink his dick deeper in.

I was near tears, so I closed my eyes, bit down on my bottom lip, and braced myself as this nigga ripped through my pussy wall. He didn’t seem to care that I was in pain. Instead, he ignored my cries, lifted my legs higher in the air, and dug deeper into my guts. I backed all the way up until my head was against the headboard. I grabbed ahold of it for support and tried not to apply too much pressure. I was scared I would break the brand-new bed that I picked up from Ashley Furniture about a week ago. The pain was unbearable. It wasn’t even fun anymore. I wanted to push him off me, but I tried my best not to act like a crybaby. To some, sex was pain, but this shit was downright torture.

“Aargh, I’m busting. Fuck, bitch, who pussy is this?” He rammed me harder.

“Yours, daddy. It’s your pussy, daddy.” I stroked his ego as I tightened my pussy muscles around his dick. I was hoping this would help him to bust faster.

His dick got bigger as he thrust harder inside of me. He put his hand under my ass and pulled me closer to him. “Damnnn, aarghhh . . .” He pulled out just in time to bust all over my stomach.

“Why the fuck you keep doing that nasty-ass shit, nigga? You know I hate when you come all over me,” I shouted.

I jumped off the bed, slightly irritated. The truth was, I wasn’t irritated because of him busting on me. I’d been trying for a year and a half to have this boy’s baby, but he wasn’t having it. I mean, come on. We’d been dating for two gotdamn years, and I had proved my loyalty to him, so why the fuck did he act like I wasn’t good enough to have his seed? Shit, I was good enough to suck his dick at night. I was good enough to wash his dirty-ass clothes and cook him a hot meal every gotdamn night. Yeah, the nigga made sure I wore the latest designer clothes, he made sure he paid for my classes to become a massage therapist, and I always had money in my pocket, but I wanted more. I wanted a family, a little me running around, calling, “Mommy, Mommy.” I shook my head. I had no idea how to get this nigga to bust inside of me.

I walked out of the room with an attitude. Then I closed the bathroom door, jumped into the shower, and washed off. As usual, I cringed as the Dove soap hit my sore pussy. I gently washed off, scared that my skin might peel off if I did it too hard. When I walked back into the room with the towel wrapped around me, he was sitting on the bed smoking a Black & Mild while counting the money he’d made the night before. He looked up when I walked into the room, put the Black & Mild in the ashtray, and looked at me with a grit on his face.

“Yo, B, what’s wrong witcha?” he asked.

“Why? Ain’t nothin’ wrong wit’ me,” I replied nonchalantly while I walked away.

I went to my closet and pulled out a pair of Levi’s and a white shirt. I had class at 1:00 p.m. and didn’t want to be late because the instructor would go ham if we were. I was this close to graduation and couldn’t risk fucking up. Shit, the way Mari been acting, I’m going to need my own money soon.

“Yo, B. You need to loosen up a little. We used to have so much fun together, but lately, all you want to do is argue. You make it hard for a nigga to be around you.” He held his head down while he continued counting his money.

“Really, Mari? You got some fucking nerve coming at me like this. Don’t play dumb, nigga. You know where this shit is coming from. You’re right. We used to have fun when we were just fucking around. Then we decided to make it official and become a couple. It’s been two damn years, and it seems like we’re going backward. We are not getting any younger, and all you want to do is have fun,” I lashed out at him.

He threw the bills on the bed and looked at me. “Yo, B, don’t tell me you back on that baby shit again. I mean, come on, B. I done explained this shit to you over and over. I mean, look at us. Yeah, we got nice rides, nice clothes, and I got a few dollars stacked away, but not enough for no seed. Plus, I be in the streets too much. I want to be able to be around my seed all the time, not part-time like my daddy was. I never seen that busta except on weekends—if that. I don’t want my seed to go through that. We’re happy together, so why the fuck you trying to trap a nigga for?”

“Trap you? Nigga, you pursued me, even when I told your ass I wasn’t ready for no relationship. You said you were ready to settle down. All of a sudden, you got amnesia.” I looked at him and shook my head in disgust.

“Come on, B. You know I ain’t mean it like that. It just came out. I love you and want a future with you, but right now, you’re just being selfish ’cause we ain’t ready for no baby.”

I heard his gums yapping, but I wasn’t listening to any of that bullshit that he was preaching. We had more than enough money because I watched him count stacks upon stacks every night. Shit, the nigga just blew twenty grand at the MGM Casino a few weeks ago. If you ask me, he was full of shit. This conversation wasn’t getting anywhere, so I walked away to finish dressing. I brushed my weave into a ponytail, put on a little makeup, then walked back into the room. He was still sitting there, smoking and acting so nonchalantly.

“Listen, either we make a life together, or you get the fuck on, for real. I’m not going to be no damn fool sitting around and just waiting on you. You better act fast before I get the fuck o—”

Bap! Bap! Before I could finish my sentence, he flew off the bed, slapped my face, grabbed my neck, and threw me up against the wall. He then took out his 9 mm Glock and pointed it at my head. “Bitch, who the fuck you think you talking to like that? Bitch, I took you out of the motherfucking slums. I fucking gave you every-motherfucking-thing, and this how you talk to me?” He squeezed my neck so damn hard my vision got blurry.

“Get off me.” I tried to bring my hand up to hit him, but I couldn’t reach him.

“You better quit playing, Akila. I fuckin’ love you, B, but you stay bitchin’ in my fuckin’ ears. Keep it up, and you gon’ push me into the arms of another bitch.” He started kissing my lips, but it was more like he was biting them.

I pushed him, and he finally let go of me. “Get the fuck off me. What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?”

“Sorry, baby, but you know how crazy you make me when you talk like that.” He tried touching my face.

I looked at him and dashed into the bathroom. I checked my lips and noticed a little blood, so I grabbed a piece of tissue and dabbed it. My anger rose as I saw what that nigga did. Tears rolled down my face. Then I dashed into the room. He was back sitting down, acting as if nothing happened. I grabbed my stuff and ran out of the house. I trembled as I sat in my car for a few minutes, trying to get myself together. This nigga had gone too far this time. I felt anger and disappointment. This was the nigga that I was loving. How could he treat me like this? After a few minutes of sitting in the driveway, I wiped the tears away, got my emotions under control a little, and then pulled off.

As I drove to school, I couldn’t help but reflect on my life. I was born and raised in Jackson Ward Housing Project in Richmond, Virginia, to be exact. I didn’t know my parents because I heard they had been cracked out for years. I also heard that the minute I was born, my mother gave me to my maternal grandma, and no one had heard from her since. I grew up feeling alone because I didn’t really have anyone but my grandma, and she was old and sick. I gave her props, though. She did the little that she could do for me. Her only form of income was the SSI check that she got once a month, and after the bills were paid, nothing was really left. My clothes mainly came from the thrift store or when I borrowed my homegirls’ clothes. My grandma ended up passing when I was 17, and I was left to fend for myself.

With no family or anyone to turn to, I quickly turned to the streets. First, I started boosting designer clothing and selling it to the dope boys in my hood. Shit was sweet until I caught my first case. I was walking out of Macy’s, padded with a lot of shit. I was almost out the door when the robocop at the door approached me.

“Miss, can I check your bag?” He stepped in front of me.

“Nah, why? Is there a problem?” I stepped away from him, thinking about an escape plan.

“Ma’am, please, come with me.”

“Hell no, I’m not.”

He said something on his radio, and a few seconds later, I saw two uniformed police approaching me. I knew then shit was about to get real. I shook my head and stood there as they questioned me about what was in the bag. When I couldn’t present receipts to them, they escorted me to the office, a female cop searched me, and they discovered everything. I was hauled off to Richmond City Jail. My bond was $2,500.

I called my homegirl, Ariana. It took about four days before she hustled up the money. I was later given probation and a strong warning from the judge. Those four days were hell for me, and I vowed I wouldn’t never go back to boosting. So, with boosting out the window, I started struggling. Got me a job at Hardy’s, but that didn’t work out. Life was rough for me. I started fucking different niggas to get some money to buy the things I needed.

I was at the Canal Club celebrating my eighteenth birthday when I met Mari, and we started chopping it up. I already knew who he was because his name rang bells in the streets of Richmond. He was one of the hottest dope boys. He was from Virginia Beach and fresh in the city. It was rumored that he was the go-to man for some of the rawest dope in the city, and he also had the weed game on lock. We met by accident. I was coming out of the ladies’ room, and we accidentally bumped into each other. I excused myself and walked back to where my homegirl was standing. A few minutes later, one of the bartenders brought me a drink, letting me know that the gentleman at the bar had sent it. I looked over at the bar, and there he was, standing, smiling at me. A little later, I decided to walk over to him and thank him for the drink. We sparked up a conversation, and before you knew it, we were exchanging numbers. I knew he was out of my league, but shit, I still decided to try.

I told my homegirl to go home without me, and I stayed back with Mari. He took me to a hotel on Broad Street. With the help of the alcohol and his fine ass, I fucked him on that first night. The next morning, he dropped me home. Once I sobered up, I figured I had made a mistake. I mean, this nigga was a high roller, so what did he want from little old me? I know I got some good pussy and sucked his dick good, but there are plenty of bitches out here that do the same shit.

I was shocked when he called me the next day, telling me how much he enjoyed the previous night. He invited me out to dinner later in the evening. At first, I pretended like I would be busy, but with a little convincing from him, I gladly accepted the invitation. I played it cool, though, like I wasn’t pressed. I knew that nigga was my ticket to get out of the hood and to a better life.

It was easy for me to pop this pussy on him and suck his dick like I was famished and needed his cum to nurse me back to health. Before long, we became inseparable, and my life instantly changed for the better. About three months into our relationship, I told him that I needed to move. He agreed and decided to move me out of the projects. He told me to start looking for a house. After weeks of searching, I found a nice three-bedroom, ranch-style home over on Patterson Avenue by the city’s West End. About two weeks later, with the help of the real estate lady, we moved in.

The honeymoon didn’t last long. Soon after moving in, I started to see another side of him. He started staying out all night, and when he did make it home, all he wanted to do was fuck and go to sleep. He barely took me out with him anymore. When I would question him about it, he would make up all sorts of excuses. Mainly, we lived together, but we didn’t have to hang out in the streets. I started feeling lonely at home all the time by myself until it finally became the norm. I was shocked at his sudden change of behavior, but I learned to shut my mouth and focus on bettering myself as time went by. I knew he had lots of money, so I went to him and told him I was trying to go back to school. Surprisingly, he agreed that was a good idea and gave me the money. After that, I turned my focus to school and tried my best to live with the situation.

I dried my tears as I pulled into the school’s parking lot. This was my ticket to a better life. I planned to finish up soon, get a job, get some experience, and then open my own business.

I glanced in the mirror and made sure my makeup was not smeared. My hair was straight, and the lip gloss was popping. Not bad for a chick that just got beaten up.

Mari

Damn, why the fuck did my ass move in with this bitch? I love her, but her fucking mouth was in the motherfucking way. See, I wasn’t your regular-ass nigga. I was fine as fuck, my dick game was on point, and I’m heavy in these streets. Born and raised in Virginia Beach, I was exposed to street life early. Money was running at the Beach, but shit was getting hot. Plus, I heard money was in Richmond. I would get the work from New York and bring it to Richmond. I had niggas out in Virginia Beach and Newport News, so we were moving the work with ease. With all this money I was making, bitches came around like roaches. I ain’t bragging, but shit, I could fuck a different bitch every night of the week, and most times, I did just that. I didn’t think it would be affected when I moved in with her until she started bitching at a nigga.

I met Akila at the club one night. She was cute, and I felt like I could fuck her. Getting the pussy was easier than I thought; we fucked the first night. I should’ve let her go after that, but truthfully, I was feeling her. Pussy was tight, and she sucked my dick good. She wasn’t like the other bad bitches that I was used to, but me and her hit it off, and I started feeling comfortable around her. Akila should’ve considered it a privilege when I called myself fucking with her little hood ass. I wasn’t going to lie. It was supposed to be just a fuck, but when shawty latched on to my dick like a young pit bull, I had to hurry up and cuff that ass. I loved fucking pussy, but getting my dick sucked was my specialty thanks to that crackhead bitch Brenda, who sucked my dick at 10 years old for that five-dollar bill that I promised her ass. She was geeking for that piece of crack. That bitch sucked on my little-ass dick with those bare gums and had me experiencing some out-of-body shit. When she finished, I threw that bitch the ten-dollar allowance mom dukes threw me earlier. That was the first time, and I hadn’t stopped tricking yet.

Everything was cool at first ’cause Akila was quiet and seemed humble. She never questioned me or blew up my phone, which was a plus. I’ve fucked with bitches that never understood a nigga in the streets all hours of the day and night. Shit seemed good, so when she came to me and suggested we live together, I quickly obliged. Big fucking mistake. About a week later, the complaining and whining started. I tried to explain to her that I got to be out in the streets. She didn’t seem to get it, so I stopped explaining myself. Shit, either she was going to live with it or get the fuck on. Even though we lived together, I kept several bitches on the side. Shit, I was a young nigga, and I was going to fuck until the day my dick couldn’t stand up. And then I would continue getting my dick sucked.

I pulled up at the shop to get my car detailed. My brother owned the shop, and the business also helped us clean up our drug money. I parked my 2017 Range Rover and hopped out. My brother spotted me and made his way toward me. “Whaddup, my nigga?”

“Can’t call it, playa.” We exchanged daps as we walked back into the building.

Rio was my older brother and the one responsible for getting me started in the dope business. He was my nigga and my heart, the only nigga I could count on in these streets and vice versa. So when I told him about the move to Richmond, he jumped on it, and here we are together.

“Yo, who working? I need my bitch cleaned out.”

“Which one of yo’ bitches, nigga?” he joked.

“Old Becky need a good detailing.”

“Yo, Rahu, get this,” he hollered at a Middle Eastern cat.

“Yo, let’s go to the office.”

We walked into the back, where we handled most of our business. “So, how that run looking? Are we still on?”

“Hell yeah, nigga. Got to re-up. Ain’t got shit but a key left. The first coming up, so you know it’s gonna be jumping.”

“Hell yeah, ’cause I’m almost out of the shit that I took yesterday. Man, when I tell you my phone was jumping last night, you would’ve thought it was the first or something. I ain’t go in the crib ’til six.”

“Oh yeah? I know old girl snapped on that ass.” He busted out laughing. I swear, he got a kick out of that shit.

“Man, fuck her . . . You know I went in and dicked her down as usual. Then the bitch went off this morning talking about she gon’ leave and shit if I don’t tighten up. Shit, bro, I choked that ho out. I was about to shoot that bitch, ungrateful old ass.”

“Yo, yo, I told you about putting your hands on that bitch. You done fucked up and moved in with the bitch, and her ass know too fucking much now.”

“Man, fuck that bitch. Her ass ain’t goin’ nowhere, and she know I will beat that ass if she ever run her motherfucking mouth.”

“A’ight, li’l bro, but a scorned bitch is a dangerous one. All she needs is another nigga to be all up in her ear. Trust me, these bitches ain’t loyal these days.”

“Damn, nigga, you blowin’ me wit’ all this preaching, bro. I got these hoes. You just focus on running the business.” I chuckled, but I was serious as fuck.

I loved my brother, but he was always soft for those bitches. That was why his ass was married with three fucking kids. That nigga swore to God he was happy, but I knew different.

“Nigga, hit this loud and shut the fuck up. Mama used to say a hard head makes a soft ass,” he said and handed me the blunt.

The mention of Mama made me smile. I swear I miss that woman. I know she was up there smiling down at us. Fuck cancer. I would do anything to get her back here with us.

I took a long pull off the fat-ass blunt he’d rolled. That nigga missed his true calling—counseling. We smoked two more blunts and then got down to serious matters. Business was definitely booming. We just had to be careful in these streets. A few Richmond niggas try to bring some heat our way, but we sent a strong message by shooting up one of the nigga’s baby mama’s house. Since then, shit died down, but we were not letting our guards down. War could start any day, and we need to be ready to square up with these bitch-ass niggas.

I didn’t want to be in class after what had happened earlier. I couldn’t believe that nigga put a fucking gun to my head and bit my lip like he was a fucking animal. I wasn’t going to front; he’d put his hands on me before. I really thought we were way past that after he cried to me and begged me to give him another chance once I packed my bags and was almost out the door. But that nigga shocked the shit out of me when he jumped off the bed like that earlier. Tears welled up in my eyes as I remembered how that shit played out.

“Yo, you good?” Tyrone, one of my classmates, asked as he walked up to me.

“Yes, I’m good,” I smiled at him. Tyrone had been crushing on me since the first day of school. I wished I could just lie on his shoulder and cry it out. My heart was broken, and I needed a listening ear.

“Well, you know if you need to talk, I’m here, right?” he said before walking off.

“Thank you, hon.” I tried to use my hand to hide my busted lip.

He looked back at me, smiled, and continued to walk away with that turned-up ass swag. He was a cutie-pie and had that country accent. He told me he was born and raised in Georgia. He sent chills through my veins whenever he spoke. I wasn’t going to lie. I’d entertained the idea of going on a date with him. But Richmond was so small, and Mari had connections and ears out in the streets. I knew I couldn’t make a move without him finding out about it. I quickly dismissed that idea because it was not worth me or that boy losing our lives behind that nigga and his jealous ways.

After class was over, I thought about going straight home, but I felt down and didn’t want to go into the boring-ass house. So I got into my car and dialed my bitch Ariana’s number. I hadn’t seen her ass in a few days and could really use some girl time.

“Hello,” her loudmouthed ass hollered into the phone.

“Damn, bitch, must you be so fucking loud and unladylike all the time?”

“Listen, you little heffa, you called my motherfucking phone, so state yo’ business or get the fuck on.” She busted out laughing.

“Bitch, you is stupid.” I couldn’t help but also start laughing.

“Where the hell you been, nigga? Oh, I know. Laid up with that boy and forgot all about your bitch.”

“Where you at? I’m leaving school right now.”

“I’m over here at the Marriott by the airport.”

“What the fuck you doing over there? Selling pussy, bitch?”

“Shit, a bitch got to get it how she live. You comin’ through or nah?”

I hesitated. I had no idea what the fuck she was doing over there, but what the hell? I needed to see my bitch.

“Text me the address. I’m on the way.”

Before I could pull off, someone knocked on my window, which startled me. I looked up and realized it was Tyrone. I let the window down to see what this sexy-ass nigga wanted.

“I noticed you were still sitting here, so I wanted to check on you to see if you’re good.”

“Yes, I was on the phone, but thank you, though.” I shot him a smile.

“Oh, a’ight. Cool. Aye, take my number and hit me up sometime.”

“Why would I do that? I got a man.” As soon as it left my mouth, I regretted it.

“I ain’t tryin’a date your nigga. My only interest is you. And from the looks of things, I don’t think you’re too happy wit’ that nigga.”

His boldness turned me on instantly. “What’s the number?” I looked at him, surprised at his statement. I thought I did a good job hiding my pain, but I guess I didn’t.

“You gon’ call, right?”

“I’ll think about it.” I shot him a half smile.

“I hope you do. You deserve so much more.”

I didn’t say anything. I just started the car. He looked at me, and without saying another word, he walked off. I kept my eyes on him until he got on his motorcycle. That boy was very persistent. I kind of like that. It’s cute, I thought as I pulled off.

I looked at my phone to get the address of where Ariana said she was. Then I turned the music up to help ease my mind. Part of me was fed up with Mari and his bullshit, but I loved that nigga’s dirty drawers. I loved the way he spoke to my soul. I just wished he would get some help for his anger. If he did, we would be so happy together. That was one of the reasons why I thought if we had a baby, it would make him calm down some. Now, I was second-guessing. I no longer knew if I wanted to be with him, not after what he did to me today.

I noticed that I was approaching my exit. I turned off to where the GPS took me, then pulled into the parking lot and dialed Ariana’s number.

“Hey, boo.”

“I’m here. What room you in?”

“Room 204. Come in and turn to the left. The elevator is on the corner.”

“All right.” I grabbed my purse, got out of the car, and walked into the hotel.

On the way up to her room, I kept wondering what the hell her ass was doing in a hotel. It wasn’t like she didn’t have her own place. Her ass was probably up to no good. The elevator stopped. I stepped out, walked to room 204, and knocked on the door.

“Hey, bitch.” She opened the door dressed in a sexy bodycon dress.

“Hey, boo,” I said as we embraced.

“Come on in.”

I walked in and looked around, curious about what was going on. I noticed that no one else was present, which was good but suspicious.

“Bitch, sit your ass down. Why you look like you been through hell?”

“Girl, you have no idea. Mari is back on his shit again.” I broke down crying.

“Bitch, I done told yo’ ass to leave that nigga the fuck alone. He ain’t gon’ never change. How long you been dealing with that shit? I know the nigga got money, but that shit ain’t worth the way he treats you. You can make money without him.”

“I know, but I thought it would be different now that we’ve been together for years. But to be honest, shit only got worse. It’s like he doesn’t respect me no more.”

“I told your ass I heard rumors that nigga was fucking with a couple of other bitches. But yo’ ass decided to stay with him. I love you, boo, but you deserve so much more than what that nigga be dishing out. Shit, there are lots of other niggas out there with good dick and money. You’re a queen, and you deserve to be treated way better than that.”

Her words were stinging hard like alcohol in an open wound. Everything she was saying was all things that I knew, but it was so hard to leave him. No one really understood that I was deeply in love with him. He was the nigga to show me a better life. Living in the projects, not knowing where my next meal was coming from, was hard as hell. Now, I wear nice clothes, eat good, and I don’t worry about money.

“Well, those are all rumors. You know how bitches are always claiming they fuckin’ with a trap nigga, but in reality,. . .