The Trophy Wife

  Trophy Wife

  Ashley & JaQuavis

  www.urbanbooks.net

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  Copyright Page

  Prologue

  Harlem Book Fair 2006

  “Yo, it’s hotter than a mu’fucka out here,” JaQuavis complained as he took off his NY fitted cap and fanned himself.

  “Hell, yeah. I’m ’bout to sweat out my wrap.” Ashley let out a slight giggle.

  The authors were sitting under a tent signing a book for one of their loyal fans. It was the biggest and most important book event of the year. Everyone who was anyone in the street-fiction game was there. It was an opportunity for the authors and readers to interact and discuss African American literature. After signing their novel, they both thanked the reader and scanned the block, which was full of excitement and chatter. It was ninety-five-degree weather and a clear, bright day in Harlem, New York as African Americans pulled together to enjoy the literary experience. And nothing but beautiful black people filled the historic streets in a scene reminiscent of the Harlem Renaissance.

  JaQuavis lifted his shirt slightly to let some cool air get under his tee.

  Ashley noticed his black .45 tucked in his waist. “Boy, put yo’ damn shirt down. I don’t know why you always bring that thing with you.” She shook her head from side to side and rolled her eyes under her oversized Christian Dior shades. She hated when he toted his pistol in places where it wasn’t needed.

  On the other hand she knew why he toted it. He would always say, “Niggas won’t catch me slipping in New Yiddy.”

  They knew when cats were out of town, their chances of getting caught slipping by stickup kids were very high. They would never get caught in that situation.

  “Oh! I forgot,” he said, quickly dropping his shirt over his weapon. He quickly sat down and began to look around for something.

  Ashley followed suit and sat down. She knew exactly what he was searching for. She pulled her extra-large Gucci purse from under the table and opened it up discreetly so he could drop his gun inside.

  “Good looking out,” JaQuavis said as he relieved himself of a felony waiting to happen.

  Just as he dropped the gun inside, Ashley noticed something funny.

  “Yo, Qua, why the fuck is that nigga grilling us like that?” She discreetly glanced across the street at a young man with a NY hat on that covered his eyes.

  JaQuavis instantly looked over at the dude, and Ashley’s suspicions were on point. The man was definitely staring a hole through them. His hand tucked in his waist, he just stood there sticking out like a sore thumb. While everyone else at the fair was conversing and walking, he stood in the middle of the madness, ice-grilling.

  JaQuavis looked back to make sure the guy was looking at them. “Yo, I don’t know, but the nigga is definitely staring.” Once he saw that there was no one behind him, he got on his shit.

  “Yo, pass me that thing,” he whispered to Ashley as he slowly sat down.

  Before Ashley could even respond, the guy was coming toward them both. He had his hands tucked in his shirt and kept glancing around to see if anyone was looking. As he reached the table he was pulling something out of his pants. The two authors couldn’t even react quickly enough.

  Boom! The thud of a bulky white envelope hit the table.

  Ashley and JaQuavis stared at the envelope, hearts racing, thinking that something was about to pop off.

  The young thug calmly looked at both of them. “Yo, are you guys Ashley and JaQuavis?”

  “Yeah, that’s us,” Ashley said with a confident smile, pretending that he didn’t scare the living shit out of her.

  “That is from my man Kalil. He is locked up upstate and really wants to talk to the two of you.” The guy’s piercing eyes shifted back and forth at both of them.

  “What do you mean?” JaQuavis looked at the man suspiciously.

  The man noticed JaQuavis’s uneasiness and quickly made it known that it was all love. “Nah, nah. It ain’t like that, fam. Look in the envelope,” the man said as he gently pushed it toward him.

  Ashley picked up the envelope, while JaQuavis kept his eyes on the man.

  “Yo, Qua, look at this shit,” Ashley said as she thumbed through the hundred-dollar bills in the envelope.

  JaQuavis glanced over at the cash, and it immediately gained all of his attention. “What’s this for?” He looked back at the man.

  “Just to talk. Kalil really wants to speak with you personally. He told me to give both of you some incentive, nah mean?”

  “So, he gave us this . . . just to talk to us.” Ashley knew that there had to be a catch, because ain’t shit in this world free.

  “Yep! That’s it. No strings attached, ma. His next visiting day is on Monday.” The man pulled out a small piece of paper with Kalil’s prison number and visiting hours written on it. With that he walked away, leaving both of the authors with nearly $10,000.

  JaQuavis looked over at Ashley. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m about to bounce before he comes back. I’m going shopping, my nigga!” Ashley smiled and stood up.

  JaQuavis laughed lightly and scooped up the paper with the information on it.

  “Why would he want to talk to us?” Ashley asked as they walked the corridors of the prison to see the man who’d left them all the cash.

  The situation had piqued their interest, and they were too curious not to follow through with the visit. After much thought, they both agreed and decided to give the man a visit. They figured, if he was willing to pay ten stacks for a conversation, then he must’ve had something important to talk about.

  “I don’t know. We about to find out, though,” JaQuavis answered as they went through the irritating search.

  After a twenty-minute process, they entered the waiting room and walked over to the sign-in desk. JaQuavis took his finger and scrolled down to see what booth Kalil Kelly was in.

  “Table seventeen,” he said.

  They both headed toward the booth, where a man in an orange jumpsuit was patiently waiting at the steel table. He looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties and was average sized. He had his hands folded, handcuffs dangling off his wrists.

  JaQuavis was the first to take a seat in front of the man, and Ashley followed close behind. Ashley examined the man’s eyes and a look of sincerity was embedded within his pupils. In a brief moment of silence, the man looked into both of the authors’ faces with his brown eyes, the bags underneath his eyes displaying his stressful times and hardship.

  “Hello. I’m Kalil,” the man said in a strong New York accent.

  JaQuavis calmly nodded his head. Ashley remained silent as she sized up Kalil, searching for his hidden agenda.

  “Thanks for coming to see me. I know this is odd. I sent my old cellmate to reach you both at the book fair because I really need to talk to the two of you.”

  “We got your package. We don’t feel that it is necessary. We know nothing in this world is free.” Ashley crossed her hands and stared at the man across from her.

  “Yeah, we can’t accept that, fam. You can tell your people th
at they can come and pick it up.” JaQuavis leaned back in his chair. “What is it exactly that you wanted to speak with us about? I mean, it must be important. You dropped ten stacks just for us to be here?”

  Kalil took a deep breath and closed his eyes, as if to jog his memory. “I read a lot in here, considering my extended amount of free time.” He grinned slightly. “I came across your novels and loved them. They are authentic. I don’t have a lot of time and I wanted to tell someone my story. It really needs to be heard.” Kalil alternated stares between the two authors.

  “We don’t do autobiographies, sorry,” JaQuavis replied.

  “Look, I know you two are busy and I’m glad that you took out the time to come see me. But what I have to say is something that needs to be heard. I don’t have a lot of time,” Kalil whispered in an almost desperate tone.

  JaQuavis and Ashley exchanged glances and nodded to each other. They then focused their attention back on Kalil.

  “I know that you guys write together and that’s why I chose to try to contact you two rather than another author. My story is told on two sides. I needed a male and a female to hear what I have to say, nah mean?”

  “Who said something about a story, fam? We’re not trying—”

  “Hold up, I think we should hear him out.” Ashley crossed her legs and stared at Kalil. She could tell that he definitely needed to get something off his chest and she figured that since they’d made the trip they might as well see what was up. “Go ahead. We’re listening.”

  “My story is about pain, about love, about”—Kalil stopped to gather himself as the harsh memories formed in his mind—“about love and hate. My story needs to be heard, our story needs to be heard.” Kalil lowered his head and covered his face with his hands. He sniffed as he tried to block out his emotions. “London was one of the most beautiful women I had ever laid my eyes on.” Then he closed his eyes, and a single tear slid down his cheek. “I remember how it all started. I was just getting out of jail from a four-year stretch.”

  Chapter One

  “Yo, I’m telling you, son, I used to get it out in D.C.” June shook his head from side to side as he reminisced. “Nigga, you weren’t getting it like that,” Kalil taunted the nigga as he bragged.

  An exasperated expression crossed June’s face as he stood to his feet and replied, “What! Yo, son, I’m trying to put you up on game. I was the man in D.C.”

  “You were hurting ’em like that? In D.C.? I hear them cats out there ain’t working with nothing.”

  “Man, don’t believe that shit. Those D.C. niggas is caked up. They got the money to spend. I was getting crazy-paid out that way. I was fucking with my man from the Midwest. He was giving me the bricks for cheap, so I was making a killing when I resold them in D.C.”

  “You were traveling all the way west just to cop?” Kalil asked.

  “Ain’t nobody around the way got that type of weight. I’m telling you, the dude I was dealing with was knee-deep in the game. Right before I got nabbed he was trying to cop like a hundred bricks. Word on the street is he still looking for somebody to fill that order.”

  Before June had made that statement, Kalil was just having a friendly conversation, but with that one sentence June sparked his interest. June knew that Kalil was connected. There was hearsay around the prison that Kalil had gotten caught with a quarter million when he was arrested, and that he was connected to Hova, Manhattan’s most notorious drug lord. Hova wasn’t your average kingpin; in fact, it was almost impossible to touch him, which was why Kalil had so much respect. He’d done what other niggas couldn’t do. He’d touched the untouchable and become affiliated with Hova. Kalil knew that June was throwing out the bait.

  “That could be a payday for somebody.” June watched Kalil put his belongings into the small box that sat on the top bunk.

  “Maybe. I know what you getting at, man, but I ain’t fucking with it. That shit ain’t worth my freedom. Four years in this mu’fucka is long enough for me to know that I ain’t trying to come back. I got a daughter that’s waiting on me to come home. I can’t leave my family again. Getting money is what I do best, but I can’t mess with it right now. I got to find another way to eat, nah mean?”

  June nodded his head. He’d left his own son to be raised by his mother, so he could definitely feel where his cellmate was coming from. He didn’t like it, because he knew that Kalil was the missing link that he would need when he got out, but for now he had to respect it.

  “Kelly, it’s time to go,” the guard yelled, calling Kalil by his last name. He opened the door and stepped inside the small space and impatiently waited for Kalil to say good-bye and grab his stuff.

  June stood up from his bunk and slapped hands with Kalil as they embraced slightly.

  “You be easy, duke,” Kalil told him.

  “I’ma get at you when I get out in a couple months. Maybe by then you’ll be ready to step back into the big leagues. Word to my mother, my man on deck for a hundred of ’em. One more time and we can both be set for a minute,” June mumbled in Kalil’s ear before releasing him.

  Kalil nodded. “Get with me when you’re free.” He grabbed the box that contained his belongings and walked out of the cell as he was guided toward the exit.

  The air outside the prison was fresh, and Kalil inhaled deeply as he made his way down the long driveway that led to his freedom. After four years in lockup he was finally going home. His facial hair had grown in abundance and he was in desperate need of a haircut.

  The gray rusted-out Cutlass Supreme that was parked at the exit put a smile on his face, and he jogged slightly until he reached the car.

  His cousin Quinn jumped out the car as he saw him approach. “What up, baby?” Quinn said as they slapped hands and embraced. “You finally out, mu’fucka. You looking good, still breathing and shit.”

  “Barely, fam. These past four years have been hard.”

  Quinn went to the trunk of his car and pulled out a Macy’s bag that contained the latest Sean John apparel. He threw it at Kalil. “Get out of that funky-ass jail suit.” Quinn walked around to the driver’s side and got in. He revved up the engine, and as Kalil hopped in the passenger side, they sped off, leaving skid marks in front of the prison.

  Quinn was happy to see Kalil. They’d been close since childhood, and it hurt his heart to see him get sent away. “So how it feel to be out, fam?”

  “Damn good, nigga. I just can’t wait to see Jada.” Kalil thought about his baby girl. She was his world. Out of her eight years on this earth he’d been absent from her life for four of them. He promised himself that he would never miss another minute with her.

  “Yeah, she’s getting big too. I didn’t even tell her that you were getting out today. I figured you should surprise her.”

  “Thanks for looking out for Destiny while I was down. She raising my daughter and she ain’t strong enough to do that by herself. If I couldn’t be there, I’m glad that you were.”

  Kalil and Destiny had been together off and on since high school. When she got pregnant he was a stand-up dude and was there for her. Kalil was a man and he took care of his responsibilities. Destiny and Jada were his world, and he spoiled them both until he got nabbed.

  “Man, you family. Ain’t no need for all that thank-you bullshit. I did what I had to do to make sure your shorty was straight.”

  After an awkward silence filled the car, Quinn added, “Yo, open that glove box and hand me that Reasonable Doubt.”

  Kalil reached for the glove box, and the entire panel fell to the floor. He burst out in laughter as he scooped the CD and the other contents from the floor. “Damn, fam, I’ve been down for four years and you still ain’t copped anything new?”

  “You don’t know nothing ’bout the Cutlass,” Quinn replied with a boyish smirk. He adjusted his side mirrors so that he could see his tires.

  Quinn’s gray Cutlass Supreme had a few rust spots around the body, and the interior was old, dusty, and worn.
It was barely running, but the highlight of the car was the twenty-two-inch rims he had it sitting on.

  “Look at them rims, duke. You don’t know nothing about that set right there. That’s three stacks right there, just on the tires.”

  Kalil was cracking up as he listened to his little cousin defend his whip. He knew Quinn though, and he was a born hustler with a ridiculous car fetish. He knew that Quinn’s pockets had to be hurting for him to be rolling in a broke man’s car. It was in their veins to get money, so he didn’t understand why Quinn was barely making it.

  “But, for real, what’s good out here? Money slow or something?”

  “The game has changed, man. Ain’t nobody really been getting it like that since you went away. Fatboy the only mu’fucka in the city that’s doing something.”

  “Fatboy? That bum-ass nigga?” Kalil knew Fatboy well and couldn’t believe that he was now the man on top. Fatboy was a grimy hustler who had no loyalty whatsoever. He was also a known snitch, cooperating with the police on more than one occasion to avoid getting shipped upstate, which was why Kalil and many other hustlers around the city kept him at a distance.

  “I’m telling you, can’t nobody get they hands on nothing quality. Fatboy the only mu’fucka who got some decent work. I mean his shit ain’t the greatest, but it’s better than nothing. He stays consistent. He always got work, and you know a nigga got to eat.”

  “You fucking with him?” Kalil tried to keep the disapproving tone out of his voice, not wanting to knock Quinn’s hustle, if in fact he was doing business with Fatboy. On the inside he hoped that Quinn wasn’t desperate enough to mess with Fat-boy.

  “Hell, nah. I’m trying to stay free. I know if something ever went down, Fatboy would be the first one singing to the cops, so I don’t fuck with him. That’s why I ain’t really messing with the coke right now.”

  “You should’ve contacted my man. Hova would’ve taken care of you.” Kalil shook his head. He couldn’t believe that Fatboy had taken over the city. Before he went in Fatboy was a clown. He’d tried his hardest to get down with Kalil, but Kalil refused to mess with him. Kalil only dealt with thoroughbreds, and Fatboy was definitely not that.