Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 23- Momma Peaches

Things ain't been right between me and Snake for a while now. Mostly because we ain't exactly seeing eye to eye on this whole situation with Christopher. Yes, I know he's his child. Hell. One only has to look at both of them standing side by side to know that shit. But the boy is also the grandson of Memphis's own supercop, who thinks he has a cape flying out the crack of his ass. Shotgun Row is still crawling with police, and the FBI have been through this muthafucka a few times themselves.

Snake is gonna have to show his face to these muthafuckas sooner or later, 'cause their asses just ain't going away. Cedric has been riding my ass on what I know about this shit. He can't, or won't, believe that I ain't got nothing to do with this right here. I understand. He doesn't want to get caught up in the mix in fuckin' bullshit. And since I got a record a few miles long, he ain't too quick to believe any of the bullshit that I'm spitting his way. That's all right. He'll be all right. Though from time to time, he thinks the best way to get shit out of me is to put me on dick restriction. He doesn't understand why that shit is funny until I told him that dicks come a dime a dozen-if that much. The itch that his ass won't scratch, another nigga will-gladly. He knows that shit is true.

He doesn't have to go no farther than my front porch to see Rufus patrolling outside, waiting to see if I'm going to break his ass off a piece before the end of days gets here. Cedric came around, and now he's hitting my G-spot like it's a part-time job. He knows his ass is addicted to this good shit, showing up in the middle of the night with his eyes as big as his balls and pinching on my titties before he's even in the door good. This morning, I catch a clip of a teary-eyed Victoria Johnson on a cable news show. She looks like a wrecked, hot mess, clinging to her husband for support in front of the camera.

My heart gets all twisted up in my chest because I know exactly what she's going through. When Mason disappeared, my ass looked just like her-crying, begging, and snotting up. The frustrating part is knowing that niggas are sitting on information because they are all bound to the code of the streets. Nobody sees or hears shit. Times like these, you reach out to that one snitch to do the right thing. Normally, you can't stand their asses-but when it's you or your family that has been wronged, there's nothing you won't do for that snitch to crawl out of the gutter and spill his guts. Nothing.

"Sad, ain't it?" I jerk around to see Cedric, leaning against the wall and staring at the television.

"Yeah. This muthafucka is crawling with sad-ass stories. What's new?" He stares at me for a long second before his lips start curling up.

"You know that you don't have to be so hard all the time. At least not with me." My brows nearly leap off my forehead at this shit.

"Is this the part when you tell me not to worry because you'll never hurt me?"

His lips stretch wider. "If I do, is that where you laugh in my face?"

He's so fucking cute. I can't help but stroll my ass over to him and let him slide his arms around my waist.

"See? You've danced to this song before, too."

"Never with someone I wouldn't mind dancing with for the rest of my life."

I sigh. Here we go again.

"If you're thinking about making an honest woman out me, you're too late. I'm married, remember?"

"Divorces happen all the time. Haven't you been reading the papers?" I cock my head.

"Well, look at your cocky ass." I try to push my way out of his arms, but he ain't having it.

"Personally, I would've never left something as precious as you chillin' on ice." Cedric shakes his head.

"No way. Not ever." My panties are drenched.