Won't Stop

by Clifford "Spud" Johnson

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Hot Shot is at it again! Now that it's been revealed that he is an undercover FBI agent assigned to clean up as many urban cities as he can, Hot Shot and his trustworthy comrade Cotton take their skills to Oklahoma City to deal with some serious gangsters who run the drug trade.

Nola wants no part of a relationship with Hot Shot after her family is incarcerated. He has never loved a woman the way he loves Nola, so dealing with that loss on top of the loss of his parents and little brother has Hot Shot on the verge of committing murder. He is determined to get his woman back at all costs, and the streets of Oklahoma City will run red if someone steps to him the wrong way.

Oklahoma City is about to experience Hot Shot, the guy who's doing bad in order to do some good. Won't Stop is full of twists and turns that will keep you listening to see just how far this hero with a mean streak will go.

Release date: May 29, 2018

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Come on, boss man, you need to dead this dry shit you on. You only move when we got some money to get and that shit is whack. The ends have picked up, and now it’s time to play some. Your ass is getting your swag back on tonight, and ya boy ain’t taking no for an answer,” Cotton said as he stepped to Hot Shot’s closet and opened the door. “I’m about to go take a shower and get fresh. I expect for you to be doing the same ’cause an hour from now, we’re going to be rolling out in that fly-ass Audi of yours and get our club on. If things go as I think they will, we should be leaving the club with two or more bad bitches with us.”

Hot Shot sat at the end of his bed with a grin on his face. It was odd to him how he let Cotton grow on him in such a short time. He looked at Cotton as a little brother, and that thought made him feel good—and sad—at the same time because it made him think of his little brother that was murdered. He quickly shook that thought from his head and said, “All right, Cotton, I’ll go out and see what happens, but I am not promising you we’ll be leaving with any females. Where are we going anyway?”

“We’re going to hit this spot called the Purple Martini and see what the crowd is like. Been there a couple of times. It’s like a hip-hop club, but the tenders in there are nice. If we don’t feel that, then we can hit up the Grenadier, a twenty-five-and-older club where they like to say they get their grown and sexy on. So, pick out something where you can fit in at either.”

“No problem. What up with those Crips you told me about?”

“I haven’t heard from Sharp Shoota yet, but they’re definitely interested in copping a few birds. From what I’ve learned about his big homeboy, Shoota, he likes to play with his nose as well as gettin’ his money with the trap moves on the NW Side.”

“And these two are the Hoover dudes you told me about?”

“No way. These are the dudes from Rollin’ Sixties.”

“Oh. It’s amazing how I can go to different states and hear about the same gangs from the West.”

“You know how it is, that gangbangin’ shit is everywhere. It may have started in Cali, but now it’s the norm almost everywhere you go, even on the West Coast. I met some East Coast Bloods when I was in Miami. Shit tripped me out. They be yelling that ‘Soo Woo’ shit like a war chant. Wild for real.”

“Never thought it would get like that. Anyway, what about the Hoovers you met?”

“They are more into the pills and said when they need some more they will give me a call and try me out. I told them I would give them some love, so it’s basically wait and see.”

“Okay.”

“Those Bloods in Midwest City been acting shady, so I’ve basically stayed away from them clowns. They don’t seem serious about their money anyway. Would hate to let you loose on them,” Cotton said and smiled.

“The Bloods in North Highlands seemed like they are about the money. You haven’t heard from them anymore?”

“A few times. They pill popping big, though. They be wanting pills and that water, but nothing worth talking about.”

“The money has been decent, but I think we need to turn up a little more.”

Nodding his head in agreement, Cotton said, “That’s another reason why we’re getting out and about tonight, boss man. It’s not all about the pussy; it’s all about business as well. When we’re seen more, more of these nuccas will holla.”

Hot Shot smiled. “Nuccas, huh?”

With a smirk on his face, Cotton said, “Yeah, since the N-word puts your panties in a bunch I thought I’d switch it to nucca. You like?”

“Go get dressed, clown, so we can see what we can get popping out there tonight.”

“Holla at ya in a few, my nucca!” Cotton was laughing as he left the bedroom.

Hot Shot shook his head as he went to his closet and picked out what he was going to wear. He chose an expensive pair of black jeans with a black silk T-shirt and a pair of black Polo loafers. He thought about his selection, and then stepped back to the closet and grabbed a black blazer. He figured he’d wear the blazer if they went to the grown and sexy club, and if they stayed in the hop-hop club, then he would be good without the blazer.

As he went to take his shower, he thought about what Cotton told him. It was time for him to start enjoying his stay out here in Oklahoma City. But he was still having problems getting Nola off of his mind. If she doesn’t want to be with me, then I can’t do anything about it, he thought as he showered, knowing that he still missed her like crazy. He thought about Cotton’s words and laughed aloud while lathering himself.

“I’m telling you, boss man, you can’t stay like this. You got to get back in the mix. It’s been too long. I know you need to get your nuts outta the sand. The only way to forget about some good pussy is to find some even better pussy!”

Though Cotton’s words were crude as ever, he was right. It’s time for me to start living my life out here. Plus, I can’t be shaded like I’ve been doing if I want to make more moves. Surprised JT hasn’t gotten at me yet about that. Yeah, it’s time to turn the mack game back on and see what this city has to offer me, Hot Shot said to himself as he finished his shower with a smile on his face.

When they pulled into the parking lot of the Purple Martini, Hot Shot knew instantly that this club was just too young for him. But he decided to go in and give it a try. One drink and we’re out of here, he told himself as he got out of his car and let Cotton lead the way inside the club, bypassing the long line of people waiting to get inside of the hip-hop club. Once they were inside, Cotton headed straight toward the bar and ordered them both a drink. After the bartender gave them their peach Cîrocs, they turned and stared out toward the dance floor. Hot Shot had to admit, there was definitely a lot of high-caliber eye candy walking around the club as well as dancing on the dance floor. The only thing was they were a tad too young for Hot Shot’s taste. The club made you show IDs to prove you were over twenty-one, but Hot Shot could tell that some of these sexy, young ladies inside of the club were barely twenty. He shook his head and smiled as a thick and sexy female walked by them and gave her ample ass an extra switch as she passed them.

Cotton sipped his drink and smiled. “You like all that ass, boss man, don’t ya? Told you this town had some bad broads.”

“Too young for me, Cotton. I’m not trying to catch a case messing with these kids. Half of them look barely older than eighteen.”

“You need to stop tripping. What, you wanna ask for their IDs too? Shit, if they in here, they’re legal.”

“Whatever,” Hot Shot said as he sipped his drink.

“I see someone I need to holla at. I’ll be right back, boss man. That fool Sharp Shoota and his girl is here.”

“Go handle your business then. Like I said, it’s time to turn up out here and start making some serious paper.”

“I’m all over it,” Cotton said as he quickly downed the rest of his drink, set it down on the counter of the bar, and stepped toward the back of the club. He stopped in front of the table where Sharp Shoota and his girlfriend were sitting and said, “What it do, Sharp Shoota? You good?”

Sharp Shoota stood and shook hands with Cotton and said, “I’m always good, loc. How about yourself?”

“I’m straight, getting money and enjoying the scenery all at the same time.”

“That’s right. You met my girl, huh? Sherry, this is Cotton. Cotton, this is Sherry.”

“Hello, Sherry.”

“Hello,” Sherry said, not really paying attention to Cotton as she bobbed her head to the music of T.I. that was bumping on the club’s sound system.

Sharp Shoota stood five foot seven and was considered one of the most dangerous of the Rollin’ Sixties Crips in Oklahoma City. Small in stature but deadly with a gun. He got his name from his big homeboy, Shoota. Shoota was known as a ruthless Crip in Oklahoma. He’s rumored to have murdered plenty of gang members over the years. Sharp Shoota carried the Shoota name to the next generation, and from what Cotton learned, he lived up to his name exceptionally. He may be small in stature, but he was still a cold-blooded killer. Light skin with long French braids and a thin build, Cotton couldn’t help but think, Yeah, this fool is a killer because he has a little man complex. Most little nuccas like him always do.

“Tell me, have you thought about handling some business?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. I was going to get with you so we can chop it up some and see if you can give me a cool ticket on a couple of birds. My big homie’s connect out in Cali is slow playing us right now, so what’s up?”

“What you paying for them now?”

Sharp Shoota smiled and lied. “Twenty-six.”

Laughing, Cotton said, “You need to quit that shit, Sharp Shoota. You know damn well unless you copping a load, you ain’t paying nothing under twenty-eight. But I ain’t tripping. If you trying to fuck with me and my mans, then we can work out something.”

“Where your mans at?”

“At the bar.”

Sharp Shoota told Sherry, “Say, baby, why don’t you go dance or holla at one of your girls for a minute while I take care of some business, all right?”

“Whatever. Gimme some money so I can go buy me a drink.”

He reached inside of his jean pocket and pulled out a big wad of cash and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and gave it to her.

“You want me to get you something and have the waitress bring it over here to you?”

“Yeah, you know what I want,” Sharp Shoota said as he sat back down.

Before he sat down, Cotton waved toward Hot Shot and motioned for him to come and join them. He sat down and said, “This is my plug from the West, and he has plugs on whatever you need. And I do mean whatever.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep. The yay, the bud, the water, the pills, guns, whatever.”

“Damn, he like that, huh? Shit, a nigga can always use a plug for more guns.”

“I know that’s right. Check it out, though, do me a fave and try not to use that N-word. My mans has a problem with people saying that word around him. He feels it’s disrespectful, not only to him but to all black men.”

Laughing, Sharp Shoota said, “Damn, our mans on some fight-the-power shit, huh?”

“He’s a man you would want to fuck with, trust me.”

“I feel you,” Sharp Shoota said as Hot Shot made it to the table and took a seat.

“Shot, this is Sharp Shoota. Sharp Shoota, this is my mans Hot Shot.”

“Call me Shot.”

“That’s what’s up. You can call me Shoota. I only go by Sharp Shoota when I’m around my big homeboy, Shoota.”

Hot Shot nodded but didn’t speak. Cotton took this as his cue. “I was telling Shoota here that we can handle whatever he needs. Right now, he’s looking for a cool ticket on a couple of birds.”

“What are you paying for your units now?” asked Hot Shot.

With a smile on his face, Sharp Shoota said, “I told your man here the ticket we paying, and he laughed at me.”

“I don’t laugh when discussing business.”

“Damn, cuz, you a serious nig—dude, huh?”

Shot smiled because he knew by the way Shoota stopped himself from using the N-word that Cotton had told him about his dislike for the use of the word. By stopping himself showed Shot that Sharp Shoota respected his get down, and that, in turn, made Shot have some respect for the small man seated across from him. “I’m always serious when it comes to getting this money. Again, what are you paying now?”

“Twenty-six.”

Shot gave a nod and said, “And you get two at a time for this price?”

Sharp Shoota shrugged and said, “Sometimes we get more; it depends on how thangs is moving.”

“I’ll tell you what, you get five or more and we can give it to you for the twenty-six. Anything less than five, and I got to charge you twenty-seven.”

“That’s straight. When will you want to handle this?”

“Whenever you and your people are ready. Give Cotton a call and we can take it from there.”

“That’s what’s up, cuz. I think we can handle some serious business then.”

“One thing, though.”

“What’s up?”

“If I’m going to give you guys the twenty-six or twenty-seven ticket, I need to meet your big homeboy Shoota.”

“And why is that?”

Shot shrugged his shoulders and said, “That’s just how I get down. I’ve done business all over, some deals bigger than these, some smaller. I prefer to deal with men I can look in the eyes and shake their hands. It’s good for both of us. That way, we can get a feel for each other and maybe do business continuously.”

“Hold on for a sec, cuz, let me hit Big Shoota,” Sharp Shoota said as he pulled out his phone and made a call. When Shoota answered the phone, his namesake said, “What’s up, cuz? I’m here at the Purple Martini, and I bumped into that nigga Cotton I told you about. He has his people with him, and they talking like they can drop us some thangs for twenty-six if we get five or better. Twenty-seven for anything less than five.”

“Yeah, that sounds good. Do they look like they on some grimy shit, cuz, ’cause you already know how we’ll get down if they play with the chips.”

Staring at Cotton and Shot, Sharp Shoota said, “Nah, I’m feelin’ it, cuz. Just wanted to get at you to see if you wanted to move or not.”

“If you with it, then I’m with it, li’l homie. Set it up.”

“Will do. Check this out, though, cuz. Cotton’s man, Hot Shot, wants to meet you before we get down, though.”

“What the fuck he want to meet me for?”

Sharp Shoota repeated what Shot had told him, and then waited for a response from his big homeboy.

After a full minute, Big Shoota said, “I’m not feeling that shit, cuz. That sound like some police shit for real.”

“That was my first thought too, but I don’t feel that shit, cuz. I think everything is straight up and down.”

“All right, cuz, tell them we’ll get at them tomorrow afternoon, and we want five of them. Can’t let that ticket get away from us. Shit, we been getting them for twenty-eight a pop.”

Sharp Shoota laughed and said, “I know.”

“If this shit works out, we can turn up the North Side and trap like a mothafucka.”

“Yeah, and you can have your extras to play in ya nose!”

Laughing, Big Shoota said, “Fuck you, li’l nigga. Handle that shit and get at me in the morning. I’ll get the ends ready.”

“Six minutes, cuz,” Sharp Shoota said as he ended the call. He put his phone back in his shirt pocket and said, “We want to get five of them. I’ll get at you tomorrow afternoon, and we can make it happen.”

Hot Shot nodded.

Cotton smiled.

“Will your big homie be joining us?” asked Shot.

“Yeah, he’ll be there. He’s not feeling the meeting him shit, though. He feels that’s some police shit. So, tell me, are you the police, Shot?”

With a grin on his face, Hot Shot stared directly at Sharp Shoota and said, “Nope. I don’t do police, nor am I one. I’m all about my business, and when you deal with me, you will see that’s what’s most important to me. I’m a man of action because actions always trump the rhetoric. My word is all I have, and I stand on that at all times.”

Sharp Shoota nodded and said, “I feel you, cuz. I don’t peep any bullshit in you. I hope I’m correct. Like you said, you’re a man of action. I feel that because so are we.”

There was no need to respond to the subtle threat Sharp Shoota had just given. It was understood.

“All right, then, hit me when you’re ready and we’ll pick a time and place and handle that shit,” said Cotton.

“That’s what’s up, cuz,” Sharp Shoota said as they all shook hands.

As they were leaving the table, Hot Shot told Cotton, “I’ve had enough of this spot. Let’s try out that grown and sexy club.”

Laughing, Cotton said, “Being around all these ronis done got your blood flowing again, huh, boss man?”

With a grin on his face, Hot Shot said, “Yeah, something like that. But I need a grown woman, not no barely legal thing that can get me knocked for statutory.”

“I feel you. On to the Grenadier, then,” Cotton said as he led the way out of the club.

The Grenadier Club was located on the Northeast Side of Oklahoma City, a part of town that’s considered to be the roughest since it posted a high crime rate. What baffled Hot Shot was that the Governor’s Mansion was also located on the Northeast Side. One would think that the place where the governor resided the surrounding area would be relatively crime free.

When he pulled into the parking lot of the Grenadier, his first thought was this couldn’t be a club. It looked more like a local lodge building for older people. He saw men and women getting out of Cadillacs and a few Lexuses and thought, This should be really interesting. Grown and sexy, huh? He noticed the older women, some looking pretty good and some totally overly made up trying hard to bring their sexy back. He shook his head as they entered the club. He saw a mixture of older people and men and women, whose ages ranged everywhere from twenty-five to their forties. The music was a mixture of old-school rap, R&B, and some newer rap. He laughed aloud as they found a table and sat down because the DJ put on the rapper, Yo Gotti’s hit single, “Act Right.” For some reason, he liked the atmosphere of the Grenadier. He was comfortable and was able to relax.

Cotton could tell that Hot Shot was feeling the club and that made him smile. “Okay, this is the spot, then, ’cause I see signs of the old Hot Shot coming out.”

Hot Shot rolled his eyes and said, “Shut up and get the waitress over here so we can get some drinks.” While Cotton did as he was told, Shot let his eyes roam around the dimly lit club and was checking out what the females were really working with. He was somewhat impressed. Somewhat. That changed almost instantly when he noticed how almost every male inside the club basically stopped what they were doing or paused with whatever conversations they were having and stared at two gorgeous sisters as they entered the club and went to a table toward the back of the club. These two sisters knew they were top flight, and they carried themselves as if they were royalty, heads held high as they strolled confidently to their table.

One of them was a light-skinned sister with either really long hair or a very real-looking weave. Her hair hung almost to the middle of her back, a long, luxurious mane mixed with brown and blond hues. She was a slim woman with curves in all the right places and small breasts that fit her frame perfectly.

Her friend was equally attractive; actually, she was incredibly attractive to Hot Shot. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. She had a short haircut with light brown eyes and a large, sumptuous mouth. She was brown skinned and tall, which only added to her attractiveness. Five foot ten barefoot, he guessed with an alluring physique; thick yet not too thick. D-cups that looked nice and firm that Shot was positive would stand firm even without a bra. Sexy as hell and she knew it. They both knew they were showstoppers. As he continued to stare at the two lovely ladies, he noticed they were wearing matching thin platinum chains around their necks with a diamond encrusted “SS” emblem attached to their chains. Wonder what the SS stands for, Shot said to himself as he smiled at the waitress who brought their drinks.

He sipped his peach Cîroc, and then asked Cotton, “Okay, champ, since you’re up on everyone who’s somebody in this city, who are those two bad females that just came into the club and made every male inside become highly aroused?”

With a smile on his face, Cotton said, “Yep, my boss man is definitely back. I see you likey, huh? Well, let me tell you this . . . Those broads are not to be fucked with. If you watch them, you will see that no man in here will even think about approaching them. I think they’re some dykes, for real.”

“Why is that?”

Cotton shrugged and said, “I dunno, just a feeling. I’ve seen them out and about a few times, and every time they enter the spot, they have a few drinks, bob their fine-ass heads to the music for about an hour or so, and then bounce. Any nucca try to holla at them gets shot down or flat-out checked. One time at the Sky Bar I watched them check a nucca so serious that I thought they were going to murk that fool. I’m telling you, boss man, they aren’t to be fucked with.”

Shot smiled.

“Uh-oh, not again.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The last time I tried to warn you about not getting at a broad, you ended up going against my warning.”

With a smile playing on his lips, Hot Shot said, “And look what came of that.”

“Yeah, look at it. You ended up with your heart broken.”

Shot’s smile turned to a frown. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know. But look, there’s all types of broads in here, and if you pay close attention, most of them have been checking us out on the cool. That’s fucking crazy too. I’ve been to this spot several times and came up on some cool breezies, but I’ve always had to be the one doing the chasing. For some reason, I don’t think we’re going to have to do any chasing tonight.”

“And why do you think that?”

Cotton smiled and said, “Because here comes two nice-looking breezy broads right now.”

Shot turned in his seat slightly and grinned as two sisters, who looked to be in their early thirties, approach their table. Each sister was dressed in some sexy attire and looked pretty good he surmised as they stopped and stood in front of their table.

“Now I know you two fine men aren’t about to waste this night away by sitting down drinking and listening to the music, are you?” asked the prettier of the two sisters. “My name is Shirin, and this is my sister, Ameedah.”

“Hello, Ameedah and Shirin. My name is Cotton, and this is my mans, Hot Shot,” said Cotton.

“Hot Shot? Why they call you that?”

Shot smiled, ignored her question, and said, “You can call me Shot for short.”

“Okayyy, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

Cotton stood and asked Shirin, “Would you like to dance, lovely lady?”

“You better say it, sexy chocolate. Let’s go!”

Cotton laughed and said, “Sexy chocolate? Mmm, I like that,” he said, following Shirin out onto the dance floor.

Since Shot hadn’t asked Ameedah to dance, she took it upon herself to sit in Cotton’s seat. “Now, can you answer my question and tell me why they call you Hot Shot?”

“I’d rather sit here and get to know you better, and hopefully, if everything works out, you will find out on your own why I have that moniker.”

She smiled and said, “Mmm, okay, we can do that, Mr. Hot Shot.”

“Call me Shot, please.”

“Shot it is. So, tell me, Shot, where are you from because you’re definitely not from the city?”

“Born and raised in Inglewood, California.”

“What brings you to Sooner land?”

“Business.”

“What kind of business?”

“Very profitable business.”

She stared at him and noticed the two-carat gold and diamond bezel Ulysse Nardin watch on his wrist and simply said, “Okay, so you’re a baller, huh?”

He frowned and said, “That depends on what your definition of a baller is.”

“You know, dope boy.”

He shook his head and said, “No, I don’t know, and I am not a dope boy. I’m a grown man who handles his business.” Before she could respond to that, he said, “Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Not too much to tell. Born and raised out here, went to school a. . .