“The Devil doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns. He comes as everything you ever wished for.” ~Tucker Max
“How the fuck did I end up with this bitch again? Every time I tell myself that this time is going to be the last time, but something keeps pulling me back. If Demi finds out she is going to kill me, I gotta leave this girl alone before I lose everything!” These were the thoughts I had every time I linked with Nia; which had become more frequent as of late. I’d been knocking her walls down since she was thirteen years old and even back then I knew she wasn’t shit.
Nia McKaye, one of the girls from around the way that had a banging body a basic face and an empty space where her brain belonged. She had no morals, no substance and was an all-around bust down broad; by the time I got to her at thirteen she was already ran through. The only reason she ever got any attention was because of her birth right. Her father was Louis McKaye, one of Brooklyn’s most respected and notorious drug dealers; had it not been for her pops and his alliance with mine I never would’ve even given her a second look. “FUCK!” Without realizing I’d done so I’d yelled out my frustrations. Yelled it so loud and angrily that it scared Nia causing her to just stop and stare at me. “What’s all that about? Is everything ok?” She stopped dressing and started walking in the direction of that chair I was occupying in the corner of the room. “No Nia! This shit is dead, I’m done playing these fuck games with you.” My Latin accent was thick and stern which meant I was serious. “Oh we about to do this again huh? You must have little Miss Art Gallery on your mind. I don’t see how or why you even thinking of her after what we just did. I know little Miss Cornell University don’t do you the way I do with her bourgeois ass.” Her arrogance was an insult to my very being as a man and her presence was beginning to make me sick to my stomach. Without realizing I was doing so I started laughing uncontrollably. “Nia, I know these niggas been filling your head up since Christ was a baby that your pussy is made of gold, but baby that dust between your thighs doesn’t move me. You ain’t never been nothing more than a quick fuck and a mediocre dick suck. Take your dry ass home to your husband and get the fuck out my face! Puta culo sucio!” It was bitches like Nia McKaye that would be the death of a nigga if he wasn’t careful. Looking at her in that very moment made me realize she wasn’t worth the cum stains I’d just left on the sheets let alone losing Demi so I knew I had to end it.
”Speaking that spanish shit to me! This is America nigga! Speak English!” I heard her mumble as she scrambled to find her bra and shoes.
“I called you a dirty bitch, now bye!” I said as I quickly became lost in thoughts.
I remember that warm summer night back in 1993, I was eighteen when I first laid eyes on a then sixteen year-old Demi Karrine Outlaw. She stood about five foot three and weighed a good 115 pounds soaking wet but she was gorgeous; even for a young girl. I knew straight off from looking at her that she wasn’t from New York or anywhere close, she just had a look about her, something softer and classier than any Brooklyn girl I’d ever met. But she was rocking with Chanel and Kimberlie, two of the most privileged ghetto girls to ever walk the streets of New York. Demi wasn’t checking for me, I’m not even really sure she ever noticed me then but I damn sure was checking for her. Her long dark hair was pull high into a ponytail, she wore a pair of dolphin hoop earrings, no make-up just a little lip gloss to accentuate her perfect full lips; and her eyes were this creepy sexy shade of gray that you couldn’t help but lose yourself in. She had on a She’s Gotta Have It t shirt, and was rocking the shit out of a pair of black Jordache jeans with bright pink high top Reeboks, shorty was fly as shit. A young nigga almost lost his player card that night for staring and sweating her so hard. I knew then I was going to make her mine, forever.
“Yo! Earth to Bishop!! You hear me talking to you? Who you think you are talking to me like that?!” Nia’s voice brought me right back to current day, I just stared at her not saying a word. I had far more important things to do with my day than sit and worry about how I just made a whore who was nothing more than a nut on a late night feel by telling her the truth.
I was a product of Dyker Heights, a middle class area of Brooklyn. My father from the Dominican Republic and my mom from a small island in the Caribbean’s, both having been in the states many years before I was born. My father got hip to the drug game when he was a runner for Louis McKaye. That was back in the early 60’s when the war between the Mafia and independent black mobs was at the pinnacle of its success. Pops eventually worked his way into the ranks and good graces of female mob boss Stephanie St. Clair who groomed him to become one the most well respected men on the streets of New York. Some have said he was more respected than Mckaye himself which was definitely a problem. This mob and mafia shit wasn’t for the weak or the faint at heart, but pops wasn’t about that life, he saw too many soldiers fall victim cause they was just pawns in a bigger game. He wanted more for his family so he went legit, into real estate, acquiring high end properties and selling them to the highest bidders, turning dirty money into clean money. I watched my pops every move from the moment I could walk and walked his footsteps exactly, including drug running. Then something happened and stopped me cold in my tracks and I too went legit. One day I ran into the mother of one of the younger girls from around the way that I’d seen at parties and shit; I never knew her moms was strung out until that day. She was so desperate for a hit she was willing to give herself and her thirteen year-old daughter just for a hit. I wasn’t no dummy, I knew that shit wasn’t right, not knocking back the dope fiend mom anyway. But I’ll admit, her daughter had a body on her, so I fucked her. Ain’t been able to get rid of the bitch since, never sold drugs another day in my life after that.
It was instilled in me early that I had to make something more of myself than being just another statistically nigga on the street trying to be known in the drug game. My father was arrested when I was seventeen years old for being the “mastermind” behind a drug cartel that expanded through several of New York’s boroughs and sentenced to thirty years in prison, leaving me to be the man of the house to care for my mother and Abuela. Being the spitting image of my father my mother could never really look at me after he got sent up state, let alone love me as her son. But I knew that failure simply was not an option, so I finished high school, attended and graduated from NYC only to continue following in my pop’s footsteps. Using old dirty money, newly acquired education and old contacts to build my own empire separate from that of Maxwell Gee Stanton. Had I known then what I know now, things would have happened for me a lot differently.
Before I could fall deeper into reminiscing and self-pity my cell phone rang, it was Demi. Nia’s ass was still here and mumbling shit under her breath but she knew I’d kill her if she uttered an audible word so that Demi could hear her. Stepping out of the room I eagerly answered. “Gorgeous! Good Morning.”
“Mr. Santos, how is my favorite Dominican this morning? How was your run?” Her questions were always the same on the days I slept away from her. Knowing that the next few words out of my mouth were going to be nothing but lies made me feel less of a man, and she deserved more. No matter how many times I cheated or lied I knew it was always Demi that I wanted, always! Demi was more than just a woman to me, she was fucking amazing. She moved to the Upper Eastside of New York when she was twelve after her father was sought after by NYPD’s Internal Affairs Department. He’d been one of Saint Louis’ most respected narcotics detectives for years gaining a lot of notoriety.
Her mother, a full blood Italian was at one time one of the best prosecuting attorneys in the city after moving to New York until she was nearly killed by a hit man hired by a man accused of savagely raping and murdering a fifteen year old girl after she successfully convicted and had him sentenced to death. She stopped working and became an alcoholic despondent. This took a huge toll on Demi, who herself was only sixteen at the time, she lost her mother at one of the most pivotal times in a young girl’s life. But it wasn’t just Demi, she had a younger sister Nova who was only eleven and despite having the best therapist and doctors to care for them everything in the Outlaw household nearly came crashing down because of Marla’s mental and nervous breakdown. Oddly enough Demi’s father never gave up on her and neither did Demi, even now she cares for her the same as she did all those years ago. That’s where her resilience comes from, her ability to stand still even when everything is crumbling and falling down around her. It was all too much for Nova though, she was nothing like Demi; she left for Penn State the moment she graduated high school and hasn’t returned home yet, not even to visit.
“My run was good but it lacked company, you should have come with me. It would have made things a bit more interesting.” I hadn’t ran no damn where, I was too busy leaving traces of my kids along Nia’s hairline.
“You just like looking at my ass in them tight ass workout clothes, no thank you! Besides I spent the morning with my daddy dealing with more of Marla’s issues. Now I’ve got some very important business to attend to at Gallery on 125th that cannot wait so I’m headed there now. I will see you later Stant! Dinner at Ricardo’s, reservations at eight please don’t be late. Oh and wear that tie I like.” With that our call ended.
“Yo Nia! Why you even still here? I’m sure that nigga and that lil’ baby looking for you! Prisa y lárgate! Pardon me, let me speak english, Get the fuck out!”
Keep reading and meet Mrs. Nia McKay….
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