The Good Life Part 3

by Dorian Sykes

Genres: Christian Suspense

Synopsis

Wink was a drug dealer with a thirst for the good life and a drive to succeed. Now that he is no longer on the streets, is his son headed along the same path?
All his life, young Saw listened to his mom tell him how much he looked like and acted like Wink, the man she claimed was his father. Wink was a hood legend who ran the city in the late eighties and early nineties. Saw’s mother is convinced that
he too will end up in a cell beside his father and grandfather—both doing life in the feds.
Saw never met Wink since he’s been in prison for twenty years, but even if he wasn’t locked up, there’s no guarantee he would act like a father to Saw. The only proof of Saw’s paternity is his mother’s own word, which is questionable. As far as
Saw is concerned, the streets are his daddy, they raised him, and the only resemblance he shares with the notorious Wink is his thirst for the good life.

Release date: December 28, 2021

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

The massacre up at Fatt Mark’s didn’t even make the news. There had been so many murders in Detroit since the summer started that it was almost expected somebody would be killed as the summer rolled on. Everyday someone was getting gunned down. It used to be a nighttime thing, when killers would stalk their prey to a location, then get their man. But that was a thing of the past. This new and upcoming generation had taken to murdering their opts, as they called their enemies, in broad daylight. They wanted the kill to be grand and talked about.

Although the local news hadn’t covered the shooting at the barber shop, the streets had. There were so many theories as to why the shop got shot up, but the one that made the most sense was 7 Mile Slim being the intended target. It was common knowledge that he had $50,000 on his head, contracted, from what the streets were saying, by Saw.

Supposedly, all the murders around the city were attributed to an ongoing feud between Slim and Saw, which wasn’t even about drugs, territory, or money. It all started behind Karmesha, a sack-chaser who had sunk her claws into both Slim and Saw and many other ballers before them. The beef turned into an all-out war because both men had their pride, neither wanting to be the one to back down.

On the corner of 7 Mile Road and Syracuse sat an old pub that used to be called Sheeba’s. It had been painted completely black now and bore no official name, and it was closed to the public. A line of old schools sitting on rims lined the front of the building, while three bulletproof S600 Benzes black with tint hugged the curb along 7 Mile. The spot was a fortress for Saw and his team.

Close to fifty niggas stood posted outside, kicking it by their cars and just hanging out. Chicks were stopping through, drawn to all the ballers known to be from Syracuse. They had the grill burning, blunts in rotation, plenty of liquor, and the music pumping. But them having a good time wasn’t to be mistaken for them slipping, because every one of them was strapped. The ones who hadn’t any felonies, Saw made them go get their gun license so that they could legally carry, so many of them had AR-15s hanging around their necks as if it were nothing.

Saw wanted everybody together at all times, at least until the war was over. Both sides had lost some good men, and Saw was determined not to lose any more on his account.

The sound of dominoes being mixed up against the table filled the club along with Lano’s high-pitched voice. “I’m whooping y’all ass,” bragged Lano as he leaned over to check his score scribbled on the paper Hood was keeping.

“See, this is why I don’t like letting this nigga win. Always talking shit,” said Hood as he snatched his bones from the yard to start a new game.

“It ain’t how you start but how you finish,” said Saw as he took a swig from the MGD deuce-deuce and peered at the bones he pulled.

“Ah, here you go with this philosophical shit. I’m beating yo’ ass,” said Lano, jamming his finger into the score on the paper.

Saw pulled back a cheap smile and made his play on the board. “Knock, nigga, ’cause I know you ain’t got none,” Saw told Lano.

Lano’s face tightened as he studied his hand and the board, and then he reluctantly knocked on the table, to which Hood enjoyed a laugh. “Told him, keep runnin’ that mouth,” said Saw.

It was a friendly game but still competitive because they were all men of pride who liked the idea of winning at everything that they did. The bar inside was empty with the exception of Saw, Hood, and Lano. They sat at one of the center tables, slapping dominoes and talking shit and drinking cold beer. The classic movie Belly played silently on the flat screen behind the bar, while “Too Far Gone” by Street-Lord Juan played in the background. The song was the best way to describe Saw and his niggas. They were all too far gone. They were waist-deep in the game, and there wasn’t no turning back from what was ahead.

There was a slight knock at the door, and then it opened slightly. Bull stuck his massive head inside the crack of the door. He met eyes with Saw.

“Ya li’l manz out here,” Bull informed him.

“Let ’em in,” said Saw.

The game ceased as Thugga and Maine entered the club. Bull shut the door behind them. Saw pushed back his chair and got to his feet. He rounded the table to meet Thugga and Maine at the bar. He gave them both plays, then headed behind the bar.

“Y’all want somethin’ to drink?”

“I’ma fuck with some Henny,” said Maine as he and Thugga bellied up to the bar on stools.

“Same,” ordered Thugga.

Saw set two shot glasses in front of them along with a fifth of Hennessy. “Y’all can pour your own drinks.” Saw reached into the icebox for a fresh MGD and cracked it.

“Dawg up outta here,” Thugga informed him, then took a shot to the head.

“I know,” replied Saw, setting his beer down. “What’s understood need not be said.”

Saw grabbed his beer and walked to the back of the bar into his office area. He came back with a black gym bag and tossed it onto the bar between Thugga and Maine. They both nodded in gratitude.

Thugga downed another shot, then snatched the bag off the bar. He knew it was all there, the whole $50,000, so he wouldn’t insult Saw by counting the money in front of him. He and Maine were two of Saw’s shooters on payroll, so the money was always straight.

“Let us know if you need us, big bruh,” said Maine as he slid off the stool.

“I’m sure something will come up,” Saw assured them as he walked them to the door and let them out.

Something always came up when you were getting major money, especially in a city like Detroit. The war between Slim and Saw had ended, with Saw as the victor, but he was certain many more wars would follow.

Saw took a seat back at the dominoes table and resumed playing. The murder of Slim was just a drop in the bucket, and those slain in the process were only casualties of war. Just like the game of bones, Saw and his team were playing to win.

Saw was a small man in stature, only standing at five foot six and weighing 150 pounds, but in the streets he was considered a giant because of his ruthless reputation for murder. He paid his dues to the game and made his bones by putting niggas in the dirt whenever they tried him on his size. Before he had shooters, Saw was putting in his own work. He was only 20 years old, but he had a graveyard of niggas he’d personally put there. Saw was able to excel in the game mainly because people respected violence, and they trusted he wouldn’t hesitate to bring it their way if need be.

His baby face would put one at ease until they caught the murderous glint embedded in his hazel-brown eyes. His high yellow skin was covered with tattoos from the neck down. Saw had an addiction to power, beautiful women, and tattoos.

Saw’s crew was into every aspect of the drug trade, everything from pills to exotic weed, but Saw kept all the money from the heroin spots he had around the city and his O.T. (out of town). Not too many niggas in the city could match his bag because heroin money had always been on another level from cocaine and weed. Saw was a millionaire by the time he was 17, and he made sure that his two best friends, Hood and Lano, were millionaires as well. They had grown up on Syracuse together and had been through the trenches together. Hood was a goon and a loyal nigga since day one, while Lano was a jokester and a money-getting nigga. Lano could flip anything, and he was a people person. If he could avoid a war in the streets, that was what Lano was about, because wars only made it hard on business. But when Saw and Hood vetoed Lano’s peace-making attempts, he knew to fall back because he knew they were about to fuck the city up.

The war between Slim and Saw seemed to be over, but Saw knew not to fall asleep, because although Slim was gone, he was a real nigga, and a lot of people loved him. Slim was a west-side nigga from off Dexter, and his team were known to bust their guns, too, so Saw still had a few loose ends to tie up. A lot of niggas were in hiding somewhere out of town, but the city was like a moth to a flame: they always had to come back. If niggas could just stay away from Detroit, then maybe they would live, but in so many cases they had a destiny to die in the streets that they loved so much.

Saw owned houses all around the city, but he never laid his head down in a single one of them. He had three luxury spots stashed on the outskirts that only Hood and Lano knew about as far as men. If Saw had any one weakness, it had to be for beautiful women. He couldn’t close his eyes at night without having something beautiful lying beside him. His preference was dark chocolate women, but they had to be pretty and thick. He liked them dark probably because he was high yellow.

He lay in bed with Karmesha, his third baby momma. Today she was his favorite because he had won the war against Slim. Karmesha was the whole reason behind their fuel. She had babies by Slim and Saw. She had a 6-year-old son by Slim, and a 2-year-old daughter by Saw.

Saw had gotten with Karmesha while Slim was doing a one-year stretch in the county jail. And Slim took it as disrespect that Saw had pursued his baby momma while he was on lock, so when he got out, he tried confronting Saw when they bumped into each other in ATL at King of Diamonds. But what Slim got was a rosé bottle cracked over his head by Hood. A full-fledged brawl ensued between both sides, and the beef continued once they got back to Detroit.

Karmesha was ten years older than Saw, and she was seasoned when it came to sinking her huffs into a baller. She came from a long line of sack-chasers, starting with her mom, aunts, cousins, and sisters. So working a nigga came natural to her. She knew how to make any man feel like a king.

And that was exactly how she was making Saw feel as she blessed his game with some head. He felt like a king as he ran his fingers through her hair. Saw lay on his back with Karmesha looking up at him with those pretty green eyes. She’d deep throat him then pull his dick out and jack it.

They lay up in his mansion in Grosse Pointe Farms. The estate was on Jefferson Avenue facing the Detroit River. It was by far Saw’s favorite crib because he loved the water. Besides that, before he started seeing real money, he used to always drive through Grosse Pointe Farms and imagine himself owning one of the sprawling estates. He’d see old white people walking their dogs and jogging, and he’d tell himself that the only difference between himself and those white folks was that he’d have his mansion in his twenties.

R. Kelly’s “Honey Love” poured from the state-of-the-art sound system as Karmesha straddled Saw and began riding him to the music. She’d always try to make love to Saw, when really all he wanted was some head and to fuck. Karmesha wanted Saw to love her. That was her trip—making niggas fall in love with her and not just her pussy. But she had her work cut out for her, because Saw was heartless. The only time he showed any signs of love was with his three kids. He had two boys, ages 2 and 3, and then his little girl. With everyone else it was business.

Saw suddenly pushed Karmesha off of him and rolled out of bed. She watched his ink-cloaked back as he padded toward his walk-in closet.

He was done with her.

He could be cold like that.

Saw returned, carrying a fresh outfit and a pair of Jordans. He tossed a roll of money with a rubber band around it to Karmesha, then headed for the master bath.

“I’ma take a shower, so get yourself together,” he said, which really meant, “Don’t still be here when I’m done.”

Karmesha sucked her teeth, but nevertheless she broke the rubber band free from the wad of cash. Her manicured nails fanned through the blue faces. She rolled out of bed and got dressed. She wasn’t used to a nigga treating her like she wasn’t really that deal, when in fact she knew that she was. At first it turned her on when Saw played her to the left, because it was the thrill of the chase, and it was something different. But that shit had gotten old.

Karmesha was beginning to think that she’d never get Saw to love her, and that she couldn’t stomach. Slim had loved her, but now he was gone. Karmesha had heard about Saw and Slim’s beef, but she refused to believe that they would go so far as to kill one another. When she asked Saw about it, he looked her in the face and told her that, no, he wasn’t responsible. It was like the scene from The Godfather when Michael lied to his wife about not killing his sister’s husband.

Karmesha had to reason that Slim was in the streets, and Saw wasn’t his only enemy, so it was fair to say that anybody could’ve killed him.

When Saw got out of the shower, Karmesha was already gone. He knew that she wanted more, but he wasn’t certain nor convinced that she was worthy. She reminded him of his own mother, Denise, which was what he called her to her face whenever addressing her. Saw never called her Ma because she never acted like one. She showed him love growing up, but it was with gifts and Jordans she’d gotten with money from niggas in the street. To put it simply, Denise was a sack-chaser. Never worked a day in her life, yet had three kids: Saw and his two older sisters.

Saw wasn’t ready to slow down yet, but if he were to ever settle with just one woman, she’d have to be able to give him something that she’d never given to another man before, preferably her heart as well as her body.

In the meantime, Saw was in the streets having his way. He loved the power that having money brought him, but it was a turn-off for a woman to be moved by money alone. That meant one thing in Saw’s eyes—she couldn’t be trusted.

His first baby momma was cool though. Sherise worked as a medical assistant and was still in nursing school part-time. Sherise had his oldest son, Demarcus. And Tammy had little Marco. Tammy refused to work because she figured, why would she break her neck busting down a nine-to-five when she had a millionaire for a baby daddy? Between Tammy and Karmesha, they stayed with their hands out. One was determined not to let the other two baby mommas receive more. Karmesha had Saw’s daughter, Lovey.

Saw finished getting dressed and was out of the house. He always rode behind tint, and he had all his vehicles outfitted with bulletproof armor. He knew that niggas were dying to catch him slipping, some out of revenge, others out of jealousy and envy, and some out trying to make a name for themselves. Either way, Saw wasn’t ready to be put on the front of an RIP T-shirt. That was why he stayed strapped with a baby fully automatic AR-15 he had specially made. And whenever he was in the city limits, two cars full of shooters rode close by.

Saw pulled out of his estate in a triple-black BMW 750 and headed for the city. He enjoyed the slow drive along the water each time. It made him think about things like, would he ever live a peaceful life? Saw already knew the answer, which was no. He was in too deep and had put too much negativity out there for it not to come back. The good life he’d grown accustomed to was merely borrowed time before he had to pay it all back.

Until then he was going to stack up.

Whatever happened after that . . . It is what it is.

Droves of people dressed in fine white linen moved about the dance floor underneath the white canopy out by the river. They were ballroom dancing to the classic R&B jams being played. It was Detroit’s annual All-White Party. The venue was Chene Park. Every summer it was a must do for those getting money and for those who just liked the scene of a good party. People would take weeks preparing for the part, most having their linens tailor-made so they’d not only stand out but also show their status.

Saw’s crew had reserved tables all around the park. Lano was the partygoer because it gave him a chance to politick the game with other like-minded hustlas. He had reserved the crew’s tables months before the war kicked between Saw and Slim. And now that it was over, Lano wanted to get back in the field because he’d been holed up at the bar with Hood and Saw while the street war played itself out.

Musiq Soulchild crooned out one of his early hits, prompting more ladies to the dance floor. If there was only one word to describe the party, it was “sexy.” The All-White Party always brought out the baddest women Detroit and the surrounding areas had to offer. There was only one drawback though: everybody knew about the party, so a nigga who was juggling multiple women was likely to get caught up this day, because there was a good chance at least two of his women would be there.

Such was the case with Saw. All three of his baby mommas had shown their faces at the party. They were still young and sexy and loved the party, so it wasn’t out of the norm for them to be there.

Karmesha was killing the white miniskirt and red bottoms. Her long black weave gave her an exotic look, like a dark-skinned Cuban or a Dominican. She’d come to the party with her best friend, Neisha. They were in attendance at all the fly parties and couldn’t miss this one for anything in the world. Karmesha had her own section reserved with bottle service. She grooved to the music in her seat while her head was on a swivel in search of Saw.

Tammy was looking good as hell herself. Her thick chocolate frame was showcased in a white catsuit, leaving nothing to the imagination. Her camel toe was on the menu, as were her nipples. Everything about her screamed “sexy,” from her body to her short Halle Berry do. She was also there to look good and keep tabs on Saw’s ass.

Sherise was there just to unwind and have a good time. She and a few coworkers had come together. They were out on the dance floor doing the hustle with drinks in their hands and smiles on their faces.

Saw was dressed in a linen shirt and matching shorts he had made at Broadway’s, along with a pair of all-white Gucci gym shoes from back in the day. His bust-down platinum Rolex and diamond pinky ring shone under the lights as he took a swallow from his bottle of Louis 13. He was seated at his reserved table, with two of his goons standing at his sides.

Saw wasn’t really a partier. He’d go because niggas neede. . .