Street Queen by Meesha Mink

Author:Meesha Mink
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Meesha Mink, Urban Fiction, Crime Fiction, African-American Fiction, Black Books, Black Fiction, Niobia Bryant, Sexy Books
Publisher: Infinite Ink Presents...
Published: 2022-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

chapter five

One month later

DMX was a motherfucking vibe.

Many vibes, as a matter of fact. Partying. Reflection. Even praying.

Naeema was blazing a blunt and chilling as she lounged on the rooftop of her house. There were many eaves of the structure but in the rear corner was a small flat portion that allowed for easier accessibility to the roof for repairs. With her move to her old bedroom on the second floor, the access hatch in the ceiling caught her eye. Tank had grabbed the ladder, unjammed the access, and pulled down the retractable stairs to soon find what Naeema came to view as a treasure. The space was just large enough for her to fit a folding lounge chair to lay on to get roasted and toasted a deeper brown complexion when the summer hit.

The season had just arrived, and she was finally on her roof in a white bikini that exposed more than it covered as she lounged, smoked a blunt, and listened to DMX growl his way through the anthem “How’s It Going Down” with Newark native and former First Lady of Bad Boy Records, Faith Evans.

If her house were the tallest in the neighborhood, she would be completely naked to let the sun brown the top of her bald pussy too, but she was not about to give ninjas a free show from those third-floor apartments. There wasn’t much of a fuck that she gave about nudity, but pervs jacking their dick while peeping through the blinds was a level of fuckery even she avoided.

“Yo! Turn over!” a male voice suddenly shouted to her, his tone joking.

“Word!” another male voice agreed.

See? The bullshit.

She flipped her middle finger and held her hand up high to rotate it so that no perv was missed. Laughter echoed from beyond the branches of the trees. As she considered the usefulness of a huge beach umbrella, Naeema held her blunt between her lips and adjusted her pink-tinted shades before checking her titties to make sure neither of her nipples had popped out.

“Damn!” one of her onlookers yelled. “Lawd! Have mercy!”

Just childish as fuck.

Naeema didn’t really fuck with Air Pods because she liked to be aware of her surroundings. Every noise. Every shift in energy. Everything. But as the assholes’ voices disturbed her peace, she could use a distraction from the flagrant fuckboy antics.

She laid her forearm across her forehead and ignored them. She was used to dry dick dudes letting their horniness turn them back into teenagers. There is nothing worse than a motherfucker not used to seeing a woman who wasn’t afraid of dressing, looking, feeling, and being as sexy as she pleased.

I got more important shit on my mind.

Like Coko’s killer.

Getting closer to the Racketeering Rev and his First Lady of Fraud was slow-moving. The most she’d learned was a bunch of bible verses and how much money they collected at every service over the last few weeks.

Like Eric B. and Rakim, she was thinking of a master plan.

“Dammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmn!” one of the voices roared.

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