Fistful of Benjamins (3 page)

“W
hich one you want?” I beamed, pushing a display of expensive watches toward Eduardo. He laughed like I was joking or like he didn't believe that I was going to buy him one of the gold or diamond timepieces.

“I'm dead-ass. Why are you laughing? Pick one out and it's on me,” I said.

“Check you out . . . the tables have all of a sudden turned. I'm not the one taking you shopping anymore, huh? Now you can afford to spring on me?” Eduardo joked.

“Don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Pick something. It's my treat for all of the ways you have changed my life,” I said, sincerely. “We're not leaving here until you have something out of this case on your arm . . . or in a damn bag.” Eduardo shrugged his shoulders, as if to say,
if you say so
. He looked down into the case and studied the watches. He studied them and I was busy studying his fine ass.

Eight months had passed since Eduardo and I had first met that day on my mail route. Eight months of fun, hot sex, money to spare, and smooth business dealings. I had to say to myself that my life had been great. I actually looked forward to going to work every day. Our little system was working like a charm and so far, there had been no glitches. We were moving the packages daily and there had been not one inkling of drama thus far.

Eduardo had copped us an apartment in the Cosmopolitan apartments in the Town Center area of Virginia Beach and moved me and my son in with him. It was the first sign that we were going to be together for the long haul. I had never lived in a building that had a doorman, indoor pool, full gym, and a damn spa all right on the premises. It was like going from hell to heaven all in a short span of time. I had never seen Andrew so happy to be somewhere as when we moved into our apartment and he was able to see his newly decorated Spider-Man room. My son got along so well with Eduardo. It was like God had answered all of my prayers.

Eduardo had even paid off the taxes on my mother's small, raggedy house for the year. I mean, she couldn't move in with us because we wanted to be like a new little family, but I made sure I visited my mother every day and that she had everything she needed since I had left. My mother liked Eduardo a lot, but she also thought he was a car salesman. I couldn't possibly tell her that he was a damn hustler and that I was the one making his hustle happen by putting myself at risk every day. It was something I chose to keep to myself.

I had no complaints about the arrangement at all. I was living better than I had lived all of my life. I was totally in love with Eduardo. I could only hope that he was feeling me in the same way.

“C'mon, Eddie . . . I'm sure about this. Pick a watch. Matter of fact, pick the best one there,” I urged.

“A'ight, if you say so, baby girl. But don't get mad at me one day and take your shit back,” Eduardo said jokingly. Then he looked down at the case and pointed to a beauty of a watch. “I'll take this one,” Eduardo said, pointing to the Breitling with the chronograph face and diamond bezel. I really thought he would pick a Rolex. I had been stashing away for a while just to buy him something as big as a Rolex, but I liked the watch he chose anyway. It wasn't as expensive, but I guess it was close enough.

“We'll take this one,” I said to the snobby white saleslady who had eyed us up and down and thought we weren't buying anything or that we couldn't afford anything, for that matter. I plunked down the eight grand for the watch and smirked at the old bitch. Damn, it felt good to do something I wasn't used to being able to do.

“You know I'm taking you home to fuck the shit out of you now, right?” Eduardo said, kissing me and smacking my ass as we headed out of the mall.

We didn't even make it home. When we got back to his Range Rover, he threw me into the backseat and ripped off my pants.

“Hey! Those jeans cost a lot of money,” I yelped, giggling like a schoolgirl. Eduardo always made me feel so giddy and childlike when he did spontaneous fun stuff like that. I gladly followed his lead once my pants were off. I opened my legs as wide as the small space allowed. Eduardo lowered his head and I knew I was in for a special treat. He used his fingers to gently part my delicate labia and then took the tip of his long, lizard-like tongue and teased my clit. Not only did my man have a prized dick, he also had a super tongue and the tongue game to match. I was no longer laughing like a teenager; I had changed to panting and sighing like a sexy siren from a porn movie.

“Lick it. Ohh, lick it good,” I panted, moving Eduardo's head to the spot where I wanted him. “Stop playing and lick it!” I was tired of the teasing now. Eduardo took my signal and he went to town on my shit. He licked up and down my entire opening. I could feel a mixture of his saliva and my juices leaking down my ass crack. I was in heaven. The more I moaned and cooed, the harder Eduardo went. The slurping noises were making me crazy. I started grinding my hips toward Eduardo's tongue in response. I was breathing so hard my head was swimming. Eduardo pressed his tongue on my clit again and that was enough. I was creaming all over his face within seconds.

“Damn, you know how to push that button,” I panted out. My inner thighs were trembling like crazy.

“My turn now,” Eduardo panted, pulling his pants down. My knees were bent because of the limited space we had and my ass was sticking to the leather on his seats, but I was ready to receive that long dick in my dripping-wet hot box. Eduardo didn't care that my cum was getting all over his seats, either. He fell between my legs and just as he was about to put that love muscle up inside of me . . .
Bam! Bam! Bam!
Loud knocking interrupted our flow. The whole damn car shook from the banging.

“Oh shit!” I jumped. My heart kick-started in my chest like it had been shocked with paddles. I bumped my head on the door trying to get up fast, just in case it was a cop about to crack on us for public lewdness.

“What the fuck?” Eduardo barked. Through the heavy tint on the Range Rover windows we could see his boy Antoine, who we all referred to as Ant. I kind of felt relief that it wasn't a cop, but I was equally annoyed that Ant had fucked up our moment.

“Why the fuck he banging like he the cops and shit?” I grumbled. I wanted some of that dick and Ant was cock-blocking.

I quickly pulled up my pants and Eduardo did the same. He opened the door with fury.

“Nigga! Why you banging on my shit like the police?” Eduardo growled at Ant.

“I saw your shit parked up here by the mall, so I stopped, nigga. I've been calling you for mad long and you ain't answering your shit as usual. So when I saw the truck I stopped and I could see your shit rocking, so I knew you was inside getting it on instead of fucking answering your calls,” Ant said, sounding like a complaining-ass bitch to me.

“What the fuck is the problem?” Eduardo huffed. Ant looked through the door at me and then back at Eduardo.
What now?
I was thinking.

“I'll be right back,” Eduardo said to me. They stepped away from the car so they could talk. I got out and climbed into the front passenger seat. I couldn't hear shit they were saying, but I saw Ant looking over at me every few minutes like he was scared of something. After a few minutes Eduardo came back into the truck. We sat in silence as he started up the truck. I wanted to ask what was the problem, but decided to play it cool. It didn't take long to get the info.

“Yo, Gabby, shit is getting deeper for us. We got a request that I need to talk to you about,” Eduardo said, then he blew out a long breath. I looked over at him, but I didn't say anything.

“Lance wants us to step up the deliveries from one package a day to three. He moving major weight now and stepping back into the white-girl game,” Eduardo said, his voice tentative. By “white girl,” he meant heroin. I knew that niggas would eventually get greedy. That was how shit always happened. I was the one on the front lines and they were being greedy motherfuckers behind the scenes, calling shots.

I swallowed hard and turned my face away from Eduardo. He couldn't be serious with what he had just asked me. I stared out of the window, speechless. This was not part of the original deal to keep things simple. One package a day had so far kept me under the radar, but more would be too risky. I also didn't know about moving packages of heroin. I mean, ecstasy and weed was one thing, but straight-up hardcore H—that shit wasn't sitting right with me. I'd heard about chicks riding for their men getting more years than the damn dudes.

“I don't know about all of that, Eduardo. Why you want to try and fuck up a good thing? Adding shit to the game is how things always go south,” I said, annoyed. “It's already a risk for the one-a-day package. I've been paying that dude Carlos inside of the station who weighs and sorts out of my share of what you give me, but that's for that one package a day. If it gets out of hand, he might get spooked and start acting up. I mean, the only reason why he does it is because I throw him a little flirt here and there and some cash, but putting more packages out there might not be so cool. He is going to be looking for more in return, I can guarantee that. Plus, it might look suspicious if he is grabbing all the big packages and putting them on my truck. If anybody gets suspicious at all, we could all be fucked,” I said nervously. I wasn't trying to go to jail and have my son taken from me for no dumb shit. Yes, I had suggested this whole thing in order to snag Eduardo and make some extra cash, but I never anticipated it growing into something bigger. Eduardo let out a long breath like he was sick of hearing my mouth or some shit.

“Gabby . . . when Lance talks, that shit's the final say. He's the boss and he doesn't take
no
for an answer, especially from me. If he asks for something, I mean, I could try to say no, but you don't know that nigga. He is persistent as hell and he could make all of our lives fucked up. He's a kingpin, not some street-corner thug dude. Lance is second in charge in the cartel dudes that work out of Miami. I'm betting the word is coming from Mexico and Miami and that means it is Luca . . . the big, big boss. I don't think we have a choice in this,” Eduardo said, looking over at me. I guess he could see in my face that I wasn't happy or swayed by what he had just said.

“It's going to work out. Trust me. Plus, our take will step up from two stacks a week for one package a day to ten stacks a week for three packages a day. I mean, I'm not going to let you take a big risk if it's not going to be worth it for both of us,” Eduardo said, looking at me again to see what kind of reaction I was going to have. I guess he knew talking money was going to get bells and whistles ringing in my head. My eyes popped open wide when he said that. In my hood, money talked and bullshit walked for sure.

“Ten thousand dollars a week for three packages a day?” I asked dreamily for clarification. I was in amazement to even think about having that kind of money in my hands every week. I had quickly forgotten about how crazy Eduardo and Lance's request was with stepping up the packages. All I was thinking about now was having that much cold cash in my hands.

“Yeah, baby girl . . . you'll have ten stacks in your hand every week. You'll be able to have shit you never had and your paycheck will become your play money,” Eduardo said confidently. I fell quiet. I was already counting up the shit I could do with all of that money. First thing I thought of was getting my mother completely out of the hood, instead of just paying for her taxes on the little shack of a house she had. Next, I thought about taking my son to Disney World or on a cruise for his birthday. Then, I could go to college if I wanted to and pay for it so I wouldn't have loans. All sorts of shit ran through my head when I thought about having that kind of money—tax-free, cash in my hand every week. The one thing I didn't think of after I heard about the money was the risk and the problems of having all of that new money all of a sudden. That was one of many of our mistakes. The one thing about the game you should know, with every dollar comes a higher price.

“G
abriella, I need to speak with you before you go out on your route this morning,” my supervisor Ben said as I clocked in. I didn't like the sound of his voice when he approached me, nor did I like the look on his face. He looked like he was stressed or upset about something. Not a good sign. Ben was usually a happy-go-lucky person who often smiled and tried to keep everyone motivated to work. Not today. I could see stress lines creasing his forehead and there was not a smile even remotely evident on his face. Seeing Ben look so grave was a red flag for me.

“Um, sure . . . is . . . is everything okay with my work?” I asked, barely able to get the words out. I immediately became cold all over my body and my teeth started to involuntarily chatter. I was already paranoid as shit and it had only been one day since the extra packages had started coming through the post office. Could Ben have picked up on it that fast? Did someone become suspicious?

“We can talk about it in my office,” Ben said, then he kind of looked around at everyone else as if to tell me with his eyes that he didn't want anyone else to hear what he wanted to speak to me about. Another red flag for me.

All sorts of shit ran through my mind as I slowly followed down the long hallway that separated the bank of offices from the main public area in the post office. Ben was way ahead of me and had made it to the office before I did. He waited for me at the door. Finally, I made it to the doorway. I cracked a weak smile and Ben and I walked into his office, not knowing what to expect. I was feeling like I was being sent to the gas chamber. Ben walked behind his desk and flopped down in his chair. He folded his hands in front of him and looked at me like a father would look at his child who'd gotten in trouble.

“Sit down, Gabriella,” Ben said, pointing at one of the chairs in front of his desk. I clenched my ass cheeks together to keep from shitting myself.

“No it's okay, I'll stand up. I'm hoping this is going to be quick. I—I—gotta go on my route,” I stammered, cracking a nervous, halfhearted smirk. The truth was, I was too fucking nervous to sit down. Plus, the cramps that were invading my stomach wouldn't allow me to bend my body into the chair even if I wanted to do it.

“Okay, suit yourself. Well . . .” Ben started and then he reared back in his chair, closed his eyes, steepled his fingers in front of his face, and paused. I swear it was like time had stopped moving all over the world. I could hear my heart thumping in my ears. I just knew Ben was going to tell me that he knew what I had been doing and that he was going to call the cops—or worse, the DEA. I could actually picture the feds running up on Eduardo with their guns drawn and throwing him facedown on the ground. I could also see them grabbing me while my son screamed and me grabbing my baby to keep him safe. I saw those bastards snatching my son out of my arms right before I was carted off to jail. The thoughts threatened to make me cry.

“Gabriella, I wanted to ask you something,” Ben said, snapping me out of my nightmarish reverie. Blinking rapidly, I looked across the desk at Ben. I still needed to try and focus on keeping my cool so that Ben couldn't read me.

“I know there's been some things happening in the station,” Ben said, his tone even but serious. His words sounded as if they were coming out in movielike slow motion. I kept staring and blinking. All of a sudden, I was so hot all over. I wanted to just bolt out of the chair. My mouth had gone cotton-ball dry.

“So, I wanted to ask if you could cover another route in addition to yours,” Ben finally said. I could hear my own relieved breath escaping my mouth after I had finally started to breathe again. I felt a whoosh of relief wash over me.
This is what he wanted that was so important. If he only knew how fucking scared he made me,
I said to myself.

“I mean, you've been doing such a good job getting yours done that I felt with Angie gone on maternity leave that you might be able to cover hers too,” he said, like he regretted to have to ask me. I smiled. The biggest, brightest, widest smile I could get across my face. Ben just didn't know that I wanted to jump up and kiss his ass. He would never know how fucking grateful I was that all he wanted was to ask me to pick up another route.

“Oh, yeah. That's no problem at all. I'll cover her route. In fact, I'll do her route first and then I'll do mine afterwards. It's really not a problem. I'd be happy to help out.” I was rambling because my nerves had my tongue loose and my brain like mush. I was giddy as fuck at that point. Ben was looking at me strangely, so I finally snapped my lips shut and stopped talking.
Don't overdo it, Gabby.

“Well, then, I guess that settles it. Great. I guess that was easier than I thought it would be. Most of the workers at this station always gripe and complain when I ask them to do anything outside of their normal duties. I want to say thank you for being such a team player,” Ben said, standing up from behind his desk. I was moving on my legs like I had to take a piss real bad.

“No problem, Ben. Anytime,” I said, still a little caught up. With that, I turned and damn near ran from Ben's office. I rushed to the sorting room because I needed to tell Carlos about the increase in packages before he found out. I was too late, Carlos was already waiting for me. And he did not look happy.

“Gabriella, what the fuck is going on?” he whispered harshly, grabbing me by the arm.

“Nothing. Ben just wanted to ask if I'd—” I started, but Carlos quickly cut me off. I wrestled my arm out of his grasp.

“No! I mean with the extra packages from Florida? There's more than one today. It's supposed to be one a day . . . not fucking three. What is this all about Gabriella?” Carlos gritted.

“Just calm down,” I whispered, urging him to follow me into a corner so we could speak away from nosy ears. “It'll be fine, Carlos. Just keep doing it the way we always have, but now with two extra packages. I will make sure nothing happens.”

“This is a higher risk. You know that when it comes to sorting, this many packages each week from the same place is going to raise suspicions. You have to change something up, Gabriella, or else things are going to get blown,” Carlos replied, looking around like he was expecting someone to jump out of the walls at us.

“Just do it like we always did,” I hissed, annoyed. He was starting to look like a weak-ass complainer. Nothing turned me off more than a weak-ass man.

“I want more money and more of your time,” Carlos said, grabbing back onto my arm forcefully. It was like he'd hit me over the head with a hammer. I expected him to ask for more money, but was he actually asking me to spend time with him—as in fucking him? I wrestled my arm away from him once again. This time I didn't care if we made a scene.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I whispered through clenched teeth.

“I'm talking about some of what I've been asking you for all of these years. You think I'm going to keep helping you for nothing,” Carlos said lecherously. He was dead serious too. I couldn't believe he had really gone there. I had considered him a cool work friend. Just thinking about Carlos touching me made me throw up a little in my mouth. Not only was he almost three hundred pounds, he was also hairy like a caveman and he smelled like day-old cheese and hot dogs. I was cool with him at work because he was my sorter and he'd been easy to get on board with Eduardo's deliveries, but now Carlos was taking this shit to a whole other level.

“My time you can't have, but I will double what I've been giving you in cash,” I tried to placate without spitting in his fucking face or slapping the shit out of him.

“I want double of that and I want once a week with you . . . my apartment. Me and you, together,” Carlos repeated like a fucking pervert.

“You can fucking forget that shit. I can't believe you even went there,” I growled, my jaw rocking feverishly. Carlos let out a snort type of laugh, like he thought I was fucking joking with him.

“Either that or none of these packages get delivered and a little note goes out to the postmaster general and maybe even the DEA,” he threatened with a smirk.

“You can't be fucking serious, Carlos,” I hissed, my eyes squinted into little dashes. If looks could kill Carlos would've instantly dropped dead.

“I am serious. I've been looking out for you, haven't I? Well, I'm not going to fantasize about you anymore, Gabriella. If you don't want to go to jail, then you'll do what I say,” Carlos replied snidely. With that, he wobbled away. Leaving me standing there mouth agape and insides burning up with anger.