The Cartel - Ashley Antoinette Snell [40]
“Are you almost done? This is taking all damn day.”
Mecca looked over at the dark-skinned beauty sitting beside him. Her long legs glistened as she positioned them on his dashboard while painting her toe nails.
“Look, Leena, don’t start popping that bullshit. I told you what I was doing today. You the one thought I was going to fuck with a bitch, so you tried to bring your happy ass with me. You know what time of the month it is, so just sit back and chill,” Mecca stated with a smirk as he eyed the woman beside him.
Leena sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, but remained quiet. She folded her arms across her chest and, out of habit, began to pout.
Mecca shook his head. He reached over to grab her hand. He knew that he was the one who had spoiled her, so he couldn’t be too upset with her. He had been in an on-again, off-again relationship with Leena since they were young teenagers. She had witnessed his transformation from boy to man and knew of his involvement in his family’s business.
“I’ll take you shopping after this, a’ight.”
“Yeah, okay,” she replied as she tried to keep the smile from spreading across her face.
In truth he would do anything to keep a smile on her face. Leena was the only woman to capture his heart, and he loved her more than she knew.
Mecca drove up the avenue in his apple red F-150 pickup with chrome rims. He cruised slowly up the block so that his presence could be felt. It was the first of the month, which signified payday for The Cartel, and he was riding around like a landlord, collecting his rent. It was the first pickup since his father had died, and so far two of their many block lieutenants had come short, causing Mecca to have a short fuse.
These mu’fuckas coming short on my money. It’s about to be a problem. Not a dime was missing when Poppa was alive. Now these fuck-ass niggas wanna step outta line. Mecca maneuvered his way to the two-story colonial-style house on the end of the block. He put his truck into park and pulled out his cell phone to call his worker inside the trap house.
“I’m outside. I’m about to send a bitch to the back door. Give my money to her.”
Leena looked at Mecca like he was crazy and shook her head no. “Nigga, you got me fucked up. I ain’t going up in there, and I don’t know who the fuck you calling a bitch,” she whispered more to herself than to him.
Mecca ignored her and continued to speak into the phone. “Is my money right?” he paused again to let his worker respond and then hung up. “It better be,” he stated to himself. He then turned to Leena and said, “What the fuck I tell you about talking shit while I’m on the phone? Go get my shit, and don’t look in the bag either, with your nosy ass.”
“Whatever, Mecca. I’m not new to money. I don’t have to take shit from you.” Leena hopped out of the truck and walked across the lawn.
Mecca knew she wasn’t lying. She had the type of beauty that made niggas want to wife her. She was sophisticated, and her superior attitude made her appealing to most men. If she wasn’t on Mecca’s arm, there would be many men willing to extend theirs, and she knew it. She turned many heads as her voluptuous behind shook with each step she took.
Out of respect for Mecca, the hustlers on the block didn’t try to get at her, but Mecca shook his head and laughed to himself as he watched them drool at the mouth.
Thirsty-ass niggas, he thought as he watched Leena disappear down the long driveway. They’ll never get a taste of that. That’s all me.
“Hey, Mecca,” a random hoodrat called out. She stepped close to his truck, while sucking on a red Blow Pop. In fact all of the groupie broads had come out of hiding as soon as they’d heard the beat from Mecca’s subwoofers turn onto the block. The old saying, out of sight, out of mind, must have been true because as soon as Leena stepped out of sight, the hot girls on the block flocked to him.
Mecca looked up