The Hustle Chronicles 3 by Blacc Topp & Linda Williams & Dolly Lopez

Author:Blacc Topp & Linda Williams & Dolly Lopez [Topp, Blacc & Williams, Linda & Lopez, Dolly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Contemporary, United States, African American, Urban, Contemporary Fiction, Genre Fiction
Amazon: B00DXFY0N2
Publisher: BlaccStarr Media Group
Published: 2013-07-13T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

Kat sat in the dark kitchen, smoking a cigarette. The only visible light was from the glow on the tip of her Newport. She could hear the crackle of the burning tobacco in the deathly still quiet of the night. She tried to adjust her eyes to see through the darkness, but it was no use. All she could see was blackness.

Najé had come by earlier and spent time with her, Angelica, Shayla and the kids. They’d laughed and talked about the old days, mostly reminiscing about how cute Julius had been as a child. Angelica had gotten a big kick out of that. She had known Julius since they were eight years old, but the years before they met were more interesting.

They were fast asleep now, and Najé was long gone.

As Kat smoked she tried to control her primal urges, but the hissing sizzle of the cigarette threatened her with a relapse. Her jaw tensed and she scratched for no reason.

The news of Najé not having long to live had taken her aback. Her mother had always been her biggest ally in her war to get clean, and the thought of not having her around was unbearable. Sure, she could call Kentrell and have him to take her to get something to smoke, but there was the possibility that he would snitch to Julius and Devon to gain their favor. Plus, she really liked Kentrell and she didn’t want him to know that she had relapsed.

Kat switched on the light in the kitchen, and the sudden rush of brightness made her dizzy for a second. She rummaged through the refrigerator in search of something that would satiate her craving for the tiny white stones, but everything that caught her eye resembled her first love. The chopped onions that Angelica had used in her meatloaf looked like crack. The rounds of provolone cheese looked like whole cookies of crack. Even the eggs reminded her of large stones of crack cocaine.

She slammed the refrigerator, exasperated. She wanted to fight her urges; she needed to fight the urges to travel down a long horrible road with no visible end. One rock won’t hurt me, she thought; but she knew that she was lying to herself. Crack had a motto: “One hit was too many, and a thousand was not enough.”

And then Kat spotted them, the emblem on the keychain shined brightly, beckoning to her. Shayla had left the keys to her Mercedes Benz on the countertop. She could sneak out to get a rock or two and be back before anyone was aware that she was gone. Yes, that was the best solution.

Kat thought about just going to sleep, but she had been in this position before. There was no sleep as long as that monkey was on her back.

She grabbed the keys and made her way to the garage where her chariot awaited.

******

Lucio Garcia sat in the sedan in front of the Gage household, silently brooding. Carmelita’s sex drive was

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