The Street Made Me A Savage She Made Me A King

Chapter Two.

D- Boy

Dice

"Didn't I tell you to have my money by eight," I yelled at this little nigga I had working my corner. 

The young dude, Xavier, was still in high school and I usually wouldn't let a young nigga play these grown man games, but he was bold as fuck. He came to me his junior year in high school, talking some 'I need him on my team' type shit, so I took the little nigga up on his offer. 

"Yeah, man I got it, but I'mma couple of grand short," he said, shakily while handing me the duffle bag. 

"You lucky this yo' first time slipping," I replied, pointing my gun at him as he stood on the opposite side of my desk.

"Search 'em Jay," I said to one of my security guards. 

Jay searched his pockets and then his shoe and what do ya know, nigga had a stack of my bills in his sock. Not saying a word, I pointed my gun at his head and put a bullet right through it. I didn't want to kill him, but I had to make an example out of the nigga. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, plays with my fucking money. The nigga was tryna steal from me when all he had to do was ask.

"Don't fuck with my money," I said, letting the other niggas know before I dismissed them.

"Jay, go get Tory and T-Rome to clean this shit up fa me," I ordered. 

After locking up my office, I went to check on the cash flow.

"Wassup, Dice," my best friend, Erica, greeted, giving me a handshake.

"Wassup, E. Did King and Rodney on their way to take care of that business?" I asked.

"Yeah everything straight," she reassured.

"Aight then, how you been?" I asked, genuinely.

"I'm straight. Aye, you better get going. Meechie upstairs waiting for ya," she informed. 

Meechie is my eighteen-year-old little brother, and After my mama walked out on us I had no choice but to man up.

"Aight, call him and tell him to get ready," I said before going to the kitchen to check on the girls who were cooking. 

"Hey daddy," they all greeted.

"Wassup, Tay," I greeted my top girl. 

Tay was a bartender when we first met. She worked at the low-class strip club barely making ends meet. I was just there to show her boss that I wasn't a bitch and he wasn't going to play me like one. She adored me, and I used that to my advantage. 

"Hey Daddy, we still on for our meeting tonight?" she smiled flirtatiously. 

We both knew what she meant. She wanted to fuck. I'm going to give it to her too, because she looked good as fuck. She was a bad redbone with some big titties and a nice round ass that sat up just right.

"Yeah, meet me at the spot at seven thirty," I told her, and she rubbed my chest.

"See you later, Daddy." She smiled, and I shook my head with a chuckle. 

I almost felt bad that I was using the poor girl, but I needed her on my team to keep these bitches under control. Seeing how vulnerable and powerless my mama was around men made be crave the power and respect she gave them. I wanted to be the nigga everybody bowed down to.

Heading to the other side of the trap where Meechie was, I passed by a few of my workers and bag boys.

" They all greeted.

They gave me a head nod, and I returned the favor. It felt good to be the boss. Hell, for a long time I was broke, and the only person that looked up to me was Meechie. Now, I had respect all over the south. I was a young entrepreneur in the drug game.

"Wassup, Meech," I said, and he looked up from the basketball game that was on the flat screen. 

"Wassup, big bro," he replied, getting up to give me a man hug. 

"You ready to go home? You know you got school in the morning," I asked, and he smacked his lips.

"You don't go to school, so why I always gotta go?" he complained, and I hit him upside his head. 

His dumb ass was always with the same shit. I sometimes hated that I had him around my d-boy lifestyle. I wanted him to go to college and get some real money. This drug business was too fucked up, and I know his ass ain't bout that life.

"Aye, bruh, you go to school because you ain't gonna be in these streets. You got that?" I snapped, glaring at him.

"You ain't my daddy, nigga," he said, and I pushed him out the door. "Yo, stop fucking hitting on me," he growled, and I laughed at his little sensitive ass. 

I pressed the unlock button on the keypad to my Mercedes Benz. It was a bad bitch with all red interior and all black exterior. This car was my baby, I called her "Blackberry."

"You hungry?" I asked as we got into the car.

"Yeah, I want some Chinese food," he answered, and I looked at him as if he had me fucked up. 

"Too bad, we getting pizza."

"Ole hatin' ass, hurry up, I need to get fresh for tomorrow," he said, getting his brush from his backpack, and brushing his waves down. 

"Shut yo' ole Urkel looking ass up," I laughed, and he just looked at me.

"Lame ass nigga," he mumbled, and I hit him upside the head again.

" I stated, and he elbowed the side of my stomach.

"And yo' punk ass keeps putting yo' hands on me. You won't be satisfied til I beat yo' ole Rumpelstiltskin looking ass up," he roasted. 

While the two of us cracked jokes on one another, I drove, going a hundred miles per hour, and Nightmare by Offset blared through the speakers. I laughed, pressing on the brakes abruptly, causing Meech to hit his head on the dashboard.

"Put on your seat belt, scrub," I chuckled as he rubbed his head. 

We continued to ride in silence to the Little Caesar's near our house.

"Aye, text Erica and see if she wants some pizza," I told Meechie. Erica was like our sister. We went from being homeless together to living in a big ass mansion together.

"She said she want a large hamburger pizza" he replied, and I nodded, going into the small building.

"Hello. Welcome to Little Caesar's. How may I help you?" the Latina girl greeted, and I gave her a smile.

"Could I get three large pizzas one hamburger, one pepperoni, and one supreme, and three two-liter sodas," I ordered.

"Will that be all for you today?" she asked, licking her lips casually.

"Yeah," I nodded.

"That will be thirty-six twenty-eight," she said, and I handed her two twenty-dollar bills. As she grabbed the money, a young girl came in. She looked to be around my brother's age. Her chestnut brown skin looked flawless, her naturally curly hair was held tightly by a thick scrunchy. 

"Here's your change, sir," the cashier smiled, snapping me out of the daze the young girl had me in.

"Your order will be ready in twenty to fifteen minutes," she informed, and I nodded.

"Aight, thank you," I said stepping aside for the brown-skinned girl that had just walked in.

"Hey, I'm Paris Williams. I have an interview with Ms. White," she spoke. Her voice was cute and innocent as if she had never hit puberty. 

"Yes, one moment," the cashier said going to the back. 

I went to the car and checked my phone while waiting for my order. For some reason, I felt like this wouldn't be the last time I would run into her.