The Dopeman's Wife

Book 0: Dopeman

by JaQuavis Coleman

Genres: Suspense

Synopsis

The explosive start to an epic urban trilogy from New York Times bestselling author JaQuavis Coleman

Once the streets pull you in, they own you. Or at least that’s the way it’s been for Nautica. Growing up in the hood, all she’s ever known is the fast life—fast money illicitly made through scandals and relentless scheming. But when a big scam nearly finishes her off, she decides she wants more out of life than the “hustle” and tries to make a new life for herself on the East Coast.

It isn’t long though before she falls in with Manny, a drug kingpin who sweeps her off her feet. He promises to marry her and make her “Queen of the Street.” Then everything falls apart. As their relationship unravels, both of their dark secrets are uncovered, pitting them against each other in this exciting tale of love and deception.

A Blackstone Audio production.

Release date: August 15, 2012

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Six Months Earlier

“May I take your order?” Nautica said as she stuck her head out the drive-thru window at the run-down chicken spot. She popped her gum and reluctantly took the customer’s order. Nautica ran her hand through her short, wrapped, black hair, the hint of cinnamon highlights complementing her caramel brown skin. Nautica shifted her weight from one foot to the other for better comfort. Although she worked at a food joint, she felt that heels and perfectly manicured nails were appropriate. She made six dollars an hour from Red’s Chicken Shack. Well, that’s what her paycheck reflected. Actually Red’s Chicken Shack paid her much more than her paycheck read.

She looked at the clock and saw that it was time to get money. She and Khia had been working there together for about two months and had already figured a way to embezzle money from the place.

Khia walked past Nautica and winked as she headed to the manager’s office, where TaQuan was. Khia stood about five foot four and was bright yellow with pretty hazel eyes. Though small in stature, Khia was as feisty as they come. She had a beauty mark that rested perfectly above the right side of her lip. Her hair was honey blonde, and her petite figure was just the opposite of Nautica’s.

Nautica watched her girl enter the office and close the door behind herself. Nautica knew that was her signal for their lick to go in motion.

TaQuan was a thirty-year-old manager who was slightly overweight and overly gullible. Khia had been flirting with him since she got there, seeing him as a sucker she could get money out of. When Nautica found out that there was no way for him to keep track of the cash count, her hand began to itch; that meant money. His only way to prevent theft was the camera that sat right above the drive-thru cash register. TaQuan would sit in the office all day and watch the girls run the spot while he snacked on chicken throughout the day.

They had a simple plan that worked like gold every time. At a certain time, Khia would go in the office and briefly distract TaQuan so that Nautica could hit the cash register. They didn’t get rich off the little scheme, but with that and their nightly stripper job, they got by. They did it at least once every time they worked and split the take at the end of their shift.

Nautica looked at the clock, and as soon as the second hand hit twelve, she took out a couple of twenties from the drawer and stuffed them in her bra.

A few minutes later Khia left the office, a smug smile on her face. She went over to Nautica. “Do you know that fat-ass nigga whipped out his dick?” she whispered, hands on her small hips.

Nautica couldn’t help but to burst into laughter. She put her hand over her mouth to muffle her laugh. “Yeah, right, girl. What did you do?”

“What you mean, what I do? I told that nigga he need to step his dick game up and laughed at his ass. That mu’fucka had about three inches at the most. It looked like a li’l Bob Evans breakfast sausage.” Khia put up her pinky finger and waved it around. “Did you get the dough?”

“Yeah, I got it.” Nautica patted her bra. “I got ’bout three this time.”

A car rolled up to the window, interrupting them. Nautica turned around and stuck her head out the window to take the customer’s order. She looked right in the face of the infamous Zion Gardin, pushing a cocaine-white Benz with matching leather interior. With the roof completely gone, Nautica got a chance to see the lavish insides. His carpet was even white, obviously custom-made. Just to top it off, his luxury car sat on shiny chrome rims.

Nautica’s words got caught in her throat as she looked into Zion’s big brown eyes. Naturally, she displayed her pretty smile and tried to say something, but nothing came out. She had heard about him and had seen him in the clubs a few times, but she never could get close to him because he was always in VIP, surrounded by groupies and his entourage.

“Are you going to take my order, ma?” Zion rubbed his neatly trimmed goatee and smiled.

Nautica immediately noticed the guy in his passenger seat. It was bumpy-face Loon, a goon that she went to school with. She remembered how wild and ill-tempered he used to be. She took a quick glance at Loon and then focused her attention right back on Zion.

“Yeah, I got you. Can I take your order?” Nautica asked.

Zion stared into Nautica’s eyes. It was an awkward silence. He forgot about the food, and the only thing he wanted was Nautica. Her neatly arched eyebrows, caramel skin, and big brown eyes were many men’s weakness.

“What’s your name, ma?”

“My name is Nautica. What’s yours?” She gently bit the tip of her nail, trying to display her perfectly manicured nails and look cute at the same time.

“You know my name, ma,” Zion said arrogantly.

Nautica immediately noticed his swagger and loved his Southern drawl. She wanted to frown at his cockiness, but it only turned her on. He was right. She did know his name, along with every other chick in the city. He was what you called a hood superstar. Every girl wanted to be the chick that rode shotgun with him, because everyone knew he ran the city and pushed heavy coke. That meant he had major paper.

“Yeah, you right. I know your name. Can I take your order, Zion?” she asked smiling.

“I want Nautica.”

“Sorry, that’s not on the menu.”

Zion smiled and looked at Loon. He whispered something to him, and Loon immediately hopped in the back seat. “Wanna ride with me?” Zion licked his lips as he looked at Nautica.

Nautica put on a fake frown. “I don’t even know you.”

“I know, I know. But we got to start somewhere, right? Right now is perfect, feel me?”

“I get off at eleven.”

“I can’t wait until eleven. Let’s ride and get to know each other.” Zion put both of his hands together in a praying position. “Pretty please.”

Everything inside of Nautica was telling her that she shouldn’t do it, but she didn’t want to blow the chance of hooking up with a boss. There was a shortage of successful black men in Flint, and she didn’t want to miss the opportunity.

Khia nudged her back and whispered, “Girl, go! I will tell TaQuan you got sick or something.”

Without even thinking, Nautica snatched off her apron and climbed out the window. Zion helped her jump into his car. Before she even got seated, Zion turned up his music and pulled off.

“Get at me later, fam,” Loon said as he jumped out of the car and headed into the Terrace project apartments, one of the seedier areas in Flint, and also Zion’s terrain. Nautica was familiar with the area and knew that it was like a city inside a city. Crackheads and heroin users filed in on a daily basis to get their fix from the housing projects. There were strips of apartments all connected to each other, most of which were abandoned. Every sale of heroin, crack cocaine, and weed made inside the projects was a product of Zion’s. Zion was what you’d call a jack-of-all-trades, and he had the whole drug game on lock within the projects. The dealers camped out in the abandoned apartments and served the fiends like they were running a drive-thru service. McDonald’s didn’t have shit on Terrace projects.

Zion hadn’t said anything yet to Nautica. He was waiting until he dropped Loon off to officially start their rendezvous.

Nautica was nervous as hell, as she twiddled her thumbs and felt the wind blowing through her hair. Through her rearview, she saw the kids yell and run after Zion’s whip, trying to get up close to the spaceship that Zion called his car. A hundred-thousand-dollar car was rare in the hood, and Zion was the closest thing to a celebrity that Flint had seen. Everyone threw their hands up greeting Zion as he rolled by.

I could get used to this shit, straight up! I suppose to be on this nigga arm, Nautica thought as she glanced over at Zion as he gripped the woodgrain steering wheel.

Zion slowly bobbed his head to Jay-Z’s “American Gangster,” which lightly pumped out the stereo. “So, what you say your name was again?” he asked, his eye on the road.

“Nautica.”

“Nautica. I like that name. So, Nautica, why haven’t I ever seen you around here? You know. Flint ain’t but so big.”

“I don’t know. I guess you weren’t looking hard enough,” Nautica joked as she sunk more into the leather seat and got comfortable. Zion had never seen her, but Nautica had definitely seen him. How couldn’t she? Every time he entered a room, he was like a magnet for the ladies. He actually had visited the club she stripped at quite frequently, but without her costume and high heels on, Nautica looked very different.

“Guess not.” He smiled. “I like yo’ style, ma. You are very attractive, and I want you to roll with me today, you know, so we can feel each other out.”

“Yeah, that sounds good to me. I want to get to know you too.”

“That’s cool. But only under one circumstance.”

“And what may that be?” Nautica shifted her body to face him.

“You don’t repeat or mention anything you hear or see while you with me today.” Zion gently tapped his lips with his index finger, as if he was telling her to be quiet.

“Okay. I can keep a secret. Good girls never tell.”

Nautica watched in amazement as Zion made runs all over the city. He would just roll up on dudes from different blocks, pick up his money, and toss it in a duffle bag that sat in his backseat; it all seemed so unreal to her. This nigga is really getting it, she thought, discreetly checking out the scene. Nautica was definitely impressed by his hustle.

It took him nearly three hours to make all of his runs, and they talked the whole time, about life, the future, politics, and books. Nautica was surprised at how many novels Zion had read. He knew all about street fiction’s classic titles and could hold a conversation about any book she brought up. He explained to her that he’d been locked up for two years and reading was all he did then.

They definitely clicked, and Zion was feeling Nautica also. She seemed different than the females he was accustomed to dealing with. Zion smiled as he looked over at her. He could tell that she was impressed, from the slight grin on her face. He knew she thought that he was picking up drug money, but he wasn’t; he was picking up extortion money. Zion made different crews around the city pay him on a monthly basis, or he would stick up their corners, making it hell for their operation. When crews tried to jump stupid, he put his murder game down. The town’s dopeboys quickly learned that they were better off having Zion as an ally than an enemy.

Zion slyly observed Nautica, and not once did she look at the money when his “workers” paid their taxes, nor did she question him about it. That told him that either she was the daughter of a hustler, or had dealt with one before. She knew the game and how to play it, which, for him, was a plus. That was one less thing he had to school her about.

Once Zion made his last stop, he didn’t want the day to end. The sun was setting, and the sun’s dim glow reflected off Nautica’s skin perfectly. Zion couldn’t take his eyes off her and was about to do something he never did. He was going to invite her to his house. Not one of his stash houses, but his home. He had a good vibe about her.

“I don’t want to let you go just yet. What would you say if I asked you to come to my house with me?” Zion gently ran his hands through Nautica’s hair.

Nautica closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling of Zion’s touch. She took her time before responding. Well, I don’t have to go to the club tonight because it’s my day off. Should I go? He seems so perfect. I don’t want him to think I’m a ho, though. I’ma go, but he ain’t getting the panties. He looks so good, though, he might get the panties. No! No sex, Nautica! No panties! She looked him in the eyes. “I would love to go, Zion,” she said. It almost slipped out of her mouth. She’d agreed to go without even knowing. He had her gone in the head already.

I told myself I wasn’t going to do this, but oooh! Nautica gripped the back of Zion’s head, guiding him to her favorite spot. She was sprawled out on his king-sized bed, her legs over her head. Zion had gently pushed both of her legs back as far as they could go and teasingly tasted her over and over again. Both of her feet were touching the headboard as she moved her midsection in circles and moaned loudly. Zion took his time rotating his tongue around her spot, and Nautica loved every minute of it. What she thought was going to be just a quick visit turned out to be a sexual escapade.

Zion grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand and took a sip, purposefully leaving an ice cube in his mouth. He went back down on Nautica and applied the cube directly on her clitoris, an O.G. move. It made Nautica go crazy. He treated her lips down below, just as if they were the ones on her face, tongue-kissing them gently and slowly, moaning just barely so she could hear him. He slipped his tongue just a tad bit to her other hole, to let her know that he was a certified freak and knew how to gratify a woman. He slowly rose up and began to pull down his boxers, exposing his rock-hard tool.

Nautica viewed the letters Z-I-O-N tattooed across his ripped abdominals. She was so in the zone, she didn’t want the feeling to stop, not even for a brief second. She continued to move in circles, and slipped her hand down to her love box, stroking herself slowly, waiting for him. She made eye contact with Zion, and their eyes got stuck on one another, almost like a trance. She usually wouldn’t have been so comfortable around a man so quick, but Zion brought the best out of her.

Zion began to put on the condom and watched in anticipation as she masturbated right in front of him. The sight drove him completely insane. Her juices dripped onto his bedspreads, making a small puddle. When he saw her entire pinkness pulsating, he decided he couldn’t wait any longer.

After Zion finished putting on his protection, he then mounted Nautica tenderly. He grabbed his throbbing shaft and slowly inserted himself inside her. She was dripping wet, so he easily slipped in. She was warm inside her womb, and the sensation was the next thing to heaven. He began to slowly thrust in and out, big circles, little circles, up and down, deep and shallow.

Nautica and Zion were in deep unison as they sexed to the Trey Songz playing in the background. Nautica had never had a man take his time like Zion was doing. He went slow but with authority, and Nautica was in total bliss as the name Zion rolled off her tongue. Zion whispered things that Nautica never heard and went deeper than any man had ever gone inside her. He was completely turning her out.

Not even ten minutes later, it was over. But it was the best ten minutes Nautica had ever had. She’d had two orgasms and was going on a third when Zion got knocked out the race. They both laid there speechless as they breathed heavily and tried to catch their breaths.

Zion flipped over on his back, and Nautica crawled under his arms and fit perfectly into his body. Zion lightly kissed her on the forehead. He whispered, “This feels right, don’t it?”

“Yeah, it does.”

Nautica connected with Zion not only on a physical level but mentally also. Although she had only known him for half of a day, she knew that he was going to be her man eventually.

They stayed up until the sun came up, talking about everything, and of course, they had round two. And three.

“Here he comes,” Loon whispered as he gripped his .45 handgun and pressed his back against the wall.

“Shut the fuck up!” Zion whispered back. He pulled the ski mask over his face.

They had been waiting in Mookie’s house for over two hours, anticipating his return.

Zion had discovered where Mookie lived a few weeks back and had been plotting on the right time to catch him slipping. This was that moment. He held his double-barrel shotgun and pointed it toward the door as he casually stood in front of Mookie’s fluffy sofa.

Mookie walked through the door. He had another man with him. He turned on the light switch and found himself looking down the barrel of a shotgun.

“Welcome home.” Zion walked toward the men.

Mookie’s henchman didn’t even see Loon as he crept up behind him and put a pistol to his neck.

“Fuck!” Mookie put his hands behind his head. He already knew the drill. “You can take off that mask, nigga. It ain’t a secret who you are.” He kept shaking his head, regretting not being more cautious. He couldn’t see himself paying a man to take him off his “to rob” list, but now he was suffering the consequences.

“You right.” Zion snatched his mask off and looked into Mookie’s eyes.

Zion was known for sticking drug dealers. Zion had the whole city on lock. He only sold drugs in the Terrace projects,. . .