Thug Lovin'

by Wahida Clark

Genres: African American Urban; African American Romance

Synopsis

Tasha and Trae, the hood's favorite couple, are still together following the events of Thug Matrimony. Even with their relocation to sunny Los Angeles, the drama of New York cannot be escaped. From running a nightclub to dealing with models, shady lawyers, big money, new kinds of temptations, seductions, and drugs - not to mention new love interests - can this infamous couple weather all the storms and keep it together?

Release date: August 10, 2009

Publisher: Hachette Audio

Print pages: 336

Sample

Listen up, everybody! My name is Rosalyn Tasha Macklin. But everyone calls me Tasha, my middle name. That’s right, I’m married
to the one and only Trae Macklin. His ass is supposed to be officially retired from the game and enjoying life as a family
man. But I’ve learned that you can take the thug out of the streets but you can’t take the thug out of the man.


The ladies love Trae, thanks to his arrogant, cocky, by-any-means-necessary, I’ma-make-it-happen attitude. And you can’t discount
the fact that the nigga is the real deal and I hear how all of y’all chicks be sweatin’ him telling Wahida that he is y’all’s
man. But don’t even think about it. I know he’s fine as hell. It’s a fact that he’s a cross between Tyson Bedford and DMX,
thugged out with a pinch of Tyrese. That bald head and Hershey chocolate skin, a little over six feet, 210 pounds, with the
body of a god. He’s all the thug lovin’ I could handle.


Shit, I’m known to turn a nigga’s head as well. After three kids, yes three! I still got it going on. As big as I got with
both pregnancies, I didn’t even think I would get back down to 155 pounds. Trust and believe my body is bangin’ and them babies
did something good in all the right places. I told Wahida when she gets my story on the big screen, she better represent and
don’t do me dirty and have some B-list actress play me. She better have somebody like Megan Good, Gabrielle, Sanaa Lathan
or somebody on that level play my character. Somebody cute.


But anyways, there is no doubt in my mind that Trae is my soul mate. He is ecstatic that I gave him three sons. A set of twin
boys, Kareem and Shaheem, and then I had my baby, Caliph. He undoubtedly loves the ground I walk on and vice versa.


Everybody is all in our business and wants to know what happened after Trae got out the game and him and Kaylin beat that
drug case by the skin of their teeth. Well, me and Trae hightailed it to the Islands and laid low for a minute. But now we
livin’ Hollyhood large up in Cali. We live in O. J.’s old neighborhood. But now I’m not so sure that movin’ to Cali was the
best move for us. Shit has gotten downright crazy. The transition from illegal to legal hasn’t been all peaches and cream.
I thought I was going to catch a case at one point. And the club? I wanted to burn that bitch down to the ground. Let me stop
before I tell it all. I’ll let Wahida, “The Official Queen of Thug Love Fiction,” put it down for y’all.


Peace!

Tasha

Ocho Ríos, Jamaica Three years ago and before the twins were born…

Boom! Boom! Boom! The sound of the first-floor door being kicked down woke Tasha, Trae’s wifey, out of her deep sleep. Trae jumped out of bed,
going for his gun.


“Baby,” Tasha said as she jumped up and peeked out from behind the curtain of her third-floor bedroom window and saw jackets
with huge lettering—FBI, ATF, DEA—and unmarked squad cars stationed in front of the three-family house and in the middle of the street.


She placed her hands on her pregnant belly as her knees hit the floor.

“Baby, throw something on.” Trae Macklin was rushing to put on his boxers and some sweats. “You see they’re coming in. C’mon,
baby, please get up. They’re coming, baby.” He hopped over to her, one leg in the sweats, one leg out.


“I love you, Trae.” She looked up at him in disbelief. She was a hustler’s wife, undoubtedly. But she had been sure that this
hustler would be out of the game before it was too late and before it came to this.


“I know you do, Ma, but I need you to put something on.”

“Then why are you doing this?” she screamed. “Why do you keep leaving me? The babies, Trae, our babies, they need you.” Tasha
was expecting twins any day now.


Trae’s adrenaline rushed through his veins and he fought to remain calm as the sounds of steel-toed boot-wearing police rushing
up the stairs grew closer. “C’mon, baby, you gotta put something on.” Concern over Tasha’s frame of mind was evident in his
voice.


I know she is not going to fold on me, he thought.


Tasha had been through raids, search warrants and this same drill numerous times with her ex, Nikayah. It all came with the
territory of being a hustler’s wife. But she had sworn she would never get involved with another hustler again. Not in this
lifetime. Trae had managed to convince her and swore to her that he was getting out and it would be different with him. He
was going legit. Now here they were. However, she would rather her door get kicked in by law enforcement than by some niggas
trying to take their heads off.


Seeing that she wasn’t going to move, Trae snatched up his T-shirt, put it on her, then hurried to the dresser and grabbed
a pair of panties for her. “C’mon, baby, they’re at the door. Get dressed.” He managed to get her to stand up. Just as Tasha
pulled up her panties the front door damn near flew off its hinges and the law enforcement agents pushed their way into the
bedroom, screaming.


“On the floor! On the floor, now! Let me see your hands! Get down!” Trae knew the routine all too well. Most of his life he
had heard these orders.


“She’s pregnant, man!” he yelled as they threw a distraught Tasha to the floor and handcuffed her. “Why the fuck are y’all
handcuffing her? Y’all came here for me!” he yelled as they put the ghetto bracelets on him.


“That’s right,” the agent in charge said. “We don’t need her. Not yet.” He smirked. “And read Mr. Macklin his rights.”

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Trae assured Tasha as they led him away with nothing on but sweatpants.

“Okay? Okay? They are taking you away and I’m eight and a half months pregnant with twins.” She screamed, “Trae, you promised
me. You promised me you wouldn’t leave us.” Tasha was trying to run toward Trae, but the white female DEA agent was holding
on to her.


The agents began searching—more like destroying—their one-bedroom apartment. They went from room to room ransacking the apartment
and flipped over furniture, emptied out drawers, snatched clothes out of the closets, tossed papers around and dishes out
of the cabinets. In a few short minutes it looked as if a tornado had struck. The agent in charge yelled, “Oh, he’s leaving
you all right. He’s leaving you for a very long, long time, unless you tell us where he keeps his drug money. If not, by the
time he has a chance of getting out of prison, that baby you’re carrying will be raising a family of its own!” Tasha spit
on the agent and he lunged at her throat. The entire room burst out laughing.


“Aaagh!” Tasha sat up, gasping for air as she awakened from this horrible nightmare. Her fingers clenched the bedsheets so
tightly her knuckles were turning white. Her breathing was rapid; her body was pulsing from the thundering of her heart as
it tried to beat through her chest. She tried hard to shake her head clear. As she wiped the sweat from her brow, Trae sat
up and turned the lamp on.


Since the day their drug case was overturned, and Tasha picked up Trae and his partner in crime, Kaylin Santos, from the courthouse,
they had been at the bungalow in Ocho Ríos. They had the same bungalow where he had promised her that after he got out of
the game they would come back and chill until they got tired of it. It was a gift from the dons. Their first couple of nights
there, Tasha had begun having that awful nightmare, but after about a week it had stopped. Now, exactly three months later,
it was starting again.


“What’s up?” he asked as Tasha kept shaking her head from side to side and rubbing her eyes to make sure she was dreaming.
As he reached over to comfort her he realized how badly her body was shaking and saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. He
pulled the sheet off her to make sure she wasn’t bleeding. He wanted to be certain that the babies Tasha was carrying weren’t
in any danger. She was expecting twin boys. He sighed in relief as he looked between her legs. “Baby, what’s the matter?”


“That dream. It’s starting again. That same dream.”

“It’s okay, baby. It’s over. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.” He used his thumbs to wipe her tears away. “Are you listening
to me?” He grabbed her face.


“It was so real, though. Oh, God, it was real,” she gasped. “It’s a sign, I know it.”

“It’s not real, Tasha. Don’t say shit like that. You’re jinxing a nigga. It was only a dream. Trust me, Daddy ain’t going
nowhere.” Shit, I’ll hold court in the streets first. “I’m free. Me, you and the babies are far away from Jersey and New York. Aren’t we?”


She hugged him. “Sorry, baby.”

“Don’t apologize. Everything’s fine. It was only a dream.” He could still feel her trembling. “I need to be the one apologizing.
It was my lifestyle that got you so shook. I’ma make it right, baby. I promise.”


“Just tell me you’ll never leave us.” Tasha felt as if she could never get enough of his reassurance as she held him tighter.

He reached down and rubbed her stomach. “Baby, you should know by now that if I have my way, I’m never leaving my family.
But you know I did so much shit in the past. I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She pushed his hand off her stomach, jumped
up and stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.


Trae followed her to the bathroom. They had decided to move to California and start fresh as soon as Trae stopped hustling.
“Maybe it’s time for us to raise up outta here,” he suggested from the other side of the door.


“What you think?” he yelled as he turned the doorknob. Of course it was locked.

A jet-lagged and exhausted Trae hopped out of the limo before it had fully stopped, as it pulled up to the entrance of the
Wilshire Grand Hotel. It used to be one of the best-kept secrets in LA, sitting on the corner of Wilshire and Figueroa. Trae
watched as the bellman retrieved their luggage and the driver helped a sleepy Tasha out of the limo. He decided right then
and there that this spot would suit their needs perfectly as relocation central. It was the beginning of September and the
weather was sunny. A picture-perfect day.


They were so exhausted that after they settled in they slept until almost noon the next day. They were chillin’ while waiting
for Tasha’s cousin Stephon to come over. They had about six houses to look at and he had volunteered to be their official
tour guide. They were sitting on the couch in front of the big screen, which was on mute, watching ESPN2. Tasha was devouring
a bowl of fruit salad and had her legs thrown across Trae’s lap as she listened to him dish out demands to the Realtor.


“Listen, I need somewhere to stay, like, yesterday. I’m expecting my first child.” Tasha popped him on the forehead. “I’m
sorry, we’re expecting twins any day now so we need to get settled in as soon as possible.” Trae reached over and began rubbing
Tasha’s belly. He was silent as he listened to the excuses the Realtor came up with. Tasha placed her hand over his as she
guided it to where the movement was.


“What’s up, twins?” Tasha whispered to her belly.

“Call me within the next hour. If I don’t hear from you, I’m moving on to the next man.” He pushed the end button, then leaned
over and began kissing Tasha on the belly. “Man, these LA clowns are crazy. They got so much money they don’t wanna make no
more! They acting like my money ain’t green. I have no understanding of this bullshit. Couldn’t be me. I don’t give a fuck
how much bread I got, I ain’t stopping until I see Bill Gates type of bread!”


“Give the poor man a chance, baby.” Tasha laughed. “I mean, what you want the man to do? Throw the people out of their houses
today?”


“Hell yeah! Daddy needs a house.”

“And Ma Ma needs for Daddy to chill out.”

“I need to chill?” He tongued Tasha down.

“Mmmmmmmm, mmmmmm,” she moaned as she came up for air. “Yes you do. That’s my job, to clock out on niggas.”

“Aiight then. You got that,” Trae told her.

There was a knock at the front door.

“Thank you. Now go answer the door,” she ordered.

“I love you more than anything. You know that, right?” Trae leaned over for another kiss.

“Of course I know that. You show me that every day.” She kissed him back.

“Aiight then. Just don’t forget that shit.”

“Don’t you forget it. Don’t get out here and get caught up in this Hollyhood lifestyle and lose your mind,” Tasha warned him.
“I’m not going to put up with no bullshit.”


“What?” Trae laughed.

“You heard me loud and clear. Now go open the door, nigga!”

“We gotta talk,” Trae teased and winked at her as he walked across the room to open the front door.

A feeling of nervousness came over Tasha as she overheard Stephon’s voice when he entered the suite. Even though they talked
and kept in touch she hadn’t seen him since twelve years ago, when they were teenagers. He was the one to bring her the bad
news about her brother getting shot to death. He was around when both of her parents were hauled off to prison. He was there
when Social Services came and took her sister Trina and brother Kevin into state custody. She felt that seeing him was like
reopening a door to her past, something she wasn’t ready to do. She didn’t like that feeling.


He had spoken with Tasha and Trae over the phone on plenty of occasions, especially when they had confirmed that they were
coming to LA, which Stephon called his playground. He promised them that he would do everything to make their transition from
Jersey to Cali as smooth as possible.


“What up, man?” Stephon greeted Trae. They gave each other dap followed by a brotherly embrace.

“Good to finally meet you in person,” Trae told him.

“Meet you? I feel like I already know you. My cousin talks about you all the time and she sounds like you’re keeping her very
happy.”


“Well, actually we do that for each other,” Trae said with sincerity. Then he turned to his wife and said, “Yo, Tasha, your
cuz is here!”


“Damn, look at this room. Y’all rollin’ like this?” Stephon was admiring the plush suite. He looked around at the marble floors
with gold molding, eighteen-foot floor-to-ceiling windows, leather sectional couch and fully stocked bar, and that was only
the living room.


From talking to Trina and Kevin, Tasha’s siblings who were living in New York, he knew that Trae had stashed a shitload of
drug money, but damn!


“Ewwwww, ugly boy,” Tasha said playfully when she got up on her cousin, immediately forgetting those bad feelings she had
just been having. “You look just like Uncle Bill.” Stephon could grace the cover of GQ any day and stood six foot tall, with broad shoulders, a clean bald head, coal-black goatee, light brown skin and a perfect
set of pearly white teeth. He was fine. Absolutely a lady’s dream. Wet dream, that is. She gave him a big hug while Trae stood
back and watched his wife interact with family. Stephon twirled her around before staring at her face.


“And you look just like Aunt Seleta. So I don’t know why you turning up your nose. My dad and your moms is sister and brother,
remember? So if I’m ugly, so are you.” He held her back to get a good look at her. “Damn your belly looks like it’s about
to burst. Even though I look better, I must admit you do look good. But for the most part, you look very satisfied and pregnant,”
he teased. “I’m happy for you.” He hugged her again.


“Thank you. I’ll be happy when these boys come out. I feel like a whale, but I’m still a dime, big belly and all. But you’re
wrong about looking better than me. I see you’re going to be a problem already!” She pushed him away, joking. “So where are
you taking us? I’m ready to get out and smell some of this Cali air. You know, see some sights. That Realtor you referred
us to is moving too slow for Mr. Make-It-Happen-Right-Now over there,” she said, referring to Trae.


“You damn right. I ain’t got time to be playing with the type of money I’m trying to spend,” Trae snapped. “Later for the
bullshit.”


“Later for that bum. That’s what I wanted to tell Trae. What I got to show y’all you’re gonna love. It’s in stupid-ass O.
J.’s old neighborhood. It’s nice, quiet, and most important I should be able to get the keys in less than a week if you want
it. And if you got the paper, which I know you do, my man who owns the house got other moves he tryna make. Plus he got the
connections to make the deal close very fast. Y’all couldn’t have arrived at a better time.” Stephon was elated. “I can make
it all happen,” Stephon said as he pulled his cell out of his pocket.


“Now see? That’s the shit I’m talking about,” Trae said, ready to go.

Stephon proved to be a man of his word. It was just a matter of days before Trae and Tasha were able to move into their new
home. The owner had no problem once Trae gave him a hundred grand down payment. Since O. J. was no longer in the area, Stephon
promised that the Brentwood Estates was a quiet, upscale neighborhood. Other than Trae and Tasha, the family of the detective
who lived a few houses down the street seemed to be the only visible black family on the block.


The house was a monstrous 6,200 square feet. To both of them the challenge of getting it furnished and decorated was almost
overwhelming. However, Tasha was so excited about their new home on West Eric, but Trae was even more worried about Tasha
overdoing it with her pregnancy. Nevertheless, Tasha was in heaven. And as far as Trae was concerned, if Tasha was in heaven,
everything else would fall into place.


Trae heard the phone ringing but refused to answer it.

“Baby, pick up the phone!” Trae yelled from the family room. He was posted in front of his sixty-inch flat-screen TV.

“Hello,” Tasha said into the phone. She knew Trae wasn’t moving from his favorite spot.

“What’s up, girl? How the hell are ya?” It was Kyra. Tasha could recognize her childhood friend’s distinctive voice anywhere.
Kyra and Marvin Blackshear had moved—to some suburbs in Long Beach, Cali—right before Trae and Tasha did. Marvin and Trae
had become tight in Jersey on the strength of the girls and their respect for one another being in the game. Just like Trae,
Marvin had retired from the game. They were all like family.


“When are you coming over?” asked Tasha. “Can I see my peoples for a change?”

Kyra laughed. “Awwww, your fat ass miss me? You need to be resting because it’s a wrap once you hit that delivery table. Plus,
I told you we’ll get over there. It’s not like I live right around the corner. I’m taking two online classes that are kicking
my ass, Marvin has been doing some things, and I know you and Trae are trying to get settled in. And I know your hyperactive
ass is overdoing it.”


“No, I’m not. I’m just excited and anxious at the same time. Trae just put up the cribs for the twins, so my main concern
is their room and our bedroom. I’m dying for you to see it. It was empty the last time I spoke to you, but now I got a few
thangs going on,” Tasha bragged.


“Trae told Marvin that your belly is about to burst. How are you feeling?”

“Tired. But like I said I am soooooo excited!” Tasha crooned.

“Look, Tasha, you don’t need to be overdoing it.”

“I’m not. When I feel myself getting too worked up I chill out.”

“Umm-hmm.” Kyra doubted her. Plus she knew how Tasha was. “Ho, I think I need to come visit your ass for real now!”

“You gotta see the twins’ bedroom and I need to see my niece Aisha. You know every time I talk to her she tells me how she
is going to help me with the twins, right?”


Kyra laughed. “Let her help, ’cause she is only five, and I ain’t having no more no time soon that she can play house with.”

“Yeah, right.” Just then Tasha’s phone beeped. “Hold on, Kyra, let me take this call.”

“Girl, just call me back.”

“No, Kyra, hold on,” Tasha told her.

Kyra sucked her teeth and said, “Girl, go ’head. Call me back.” Tasha didn’t want her to hang up, but reluctantly did and
clicked over.


“Hi, baby.” The voice on the other end cracked.

“Hello, Nana.” It was Trae’s mother.

“How are you feeling?” Nana asked before her voice began to break up. She was not sounding like her usual vibrant self.

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you and Pop Pop? Is everything all right?” Trae appeared in the doorway.

“How long are you going to be on the phone?” Trae asked in an agitated tone.

“It’s your mom,” she mouthed.

“Give me the phone,” he demanded.

Tasha rolled her eyes at him. “Nana, here’s your rude son. I love you.” Tasha covered the mouthpiece. “I think something’s
wrong,” she whispered before passing him the phone.


“Hey, Ma. Everything aiight?” Trae was silent as Tasha watched his facial expressions. When he ran his hand over his head
and those nostrils flared she knew something wasn’t right. “Ma, calm down. Put Daddy on the phone.”


“What’s the matter?” Tasha was now standing in front of Trae.

“Pop, what happened?” Tasha watched as the tears rolled slow and steady down Trae’s cheeks. He then took the receiver and
began banging it repeatedly against the wall. Tasha jumped back, not knowing what to do.


“Baby, what’s the matter? What happened?” Trae threw the cordless phone across the room, knocking the lamp over.

“We gotta go back to New York.”

Baby, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Tasha pleaded as she followed Trae, who was pacing from room to room in an
attempt to calm himself down. His last words to her had been, “We gotta go back to New York.” But those words had been spoken
over a half hour ago. “Trae, be fair. You can’t keep me in the dark like this.”


“Shaheem. It’s my cousin Shaheem.” His voice cracked.

“Shaheem? What about him? Isn’t he still in New York?”

“He’s gone.”

“He’s gone. What do you mean he’s gone?” Tasha asked, even though in her heart she already knew the answer.

“They found him bound and gagged. They stuffed him in a New York Housing Authority bag, Ma. They treated my cousin real dirty.
Muthafuckas!” he spat before he punched the wall.


“Baby.” Tasha embraced Trae warmly. She squeezed him tight and whispered in his ear, “I am so sorry.” She held him close as
he cried, releasing a lot of his frustrations and hurt. She had a flashback and thought about the day that she met Shaheem
for the very first time. She had been with Angel, her other childhood homegirl. She and Trae both considered Angel like family.


Angel was dragging Tasha to a party that Kaylin, Angel’s newfound man and Trae’s partner, was going to be at. Tasha didn’t
want to go because she hadn’t heard from Trae in almost a week and wanted to be home in case he came by. And of course she
was very worried, especially since Kaylin hadn’t seen or heard from Trae in a couple of days either. Then on top of that Angel
hadn’t told Tasha that the party was damn near three hours away from where they lived in Trenton, somewhere in Wildwood, New
Jersey.

Angel kept saying, “You know I would do it for you.”

“Angel, three fuckin’ hours? You can’t just wait for the nigga to come by your house? This shit is crazy.” Tasha rolled her
eyes and slammed the passenger-side door, damn near tearing it off its hinges.

“It’s not three hours. Two, two and a half tops. Tasha, you don’t understand. This nigga just does something to me. He’s like
a drug. l’m telling you, he is the . . .