Sex in the Hood Saga Read Free Page B

cars up and down the street sparkling with broken glass. Duke cranked the Bang Squad on the stereo and nodded with Beamer to the deep, steady drumbeat, like marching soldiers, and a chorus of Barriors chanting “Babylon!” Their voices vibrated through Duke with the powerful force of the black warrior motherfuckers he created.
    Jus’ like they boss. Me. Duke flipped down the mirror. His black wrap-around sunglasses were cool as hell against the angular planes of his dark-dark brown, clean-shaven face and his bald head. The shades rested on an exact replica of King Tut’s nose as it appeared on the gold masks Duke had at Babylon HQ. His heart was hammering so tough, he could see it pumping through those thick veins on each side of his wide neck, all the way from the white linen collar of his shirt to the little silver hoop earrings in each ear. They flashed in the late afternoon sun as Duke nodded harder and pointed to the stereo.
    â€œHere go Jamal.” The background chant continued as Jamal preached. It was like the ghetto gospel according to rap.
    â€œBabylon rule, wit’ D-town cool, urban jewel, win any duel, jack a fool, sexy seductive, serve an’ protect, in Babylon, Duke an’ Duchess get respect.”
    The male chorus got louder then faded as the girls rapped over a belly dancer beat. “Babylon men, I’ll take ten, rock this ass, oh, so fast, they last an’ last, like a rocket blast. The Duke, he rule, wit’ D-town cool.”
    â€œWatch,” Duke said. “She got a light-bright face, white voice, white brain—wit’ black balls big as mine.”
    A week’s worth of TV reports flashed in his mind about the girl who would soon be formerly known as Victoria Winston. She had worked for her millionaire daddy in his business. Got straight A’s at private school and was scheduled to start classes this week at the University of Michigan in nearby Ann Arbor. She was star of the debate club and school play.
    â€œB, read ’bout how her daddy let her do deals.”
    Beamer snatched the newspaper from the back seat and read aloud. “Victoria Winston was apparently so wise and mature beyond her years that her father who was known for his distrust of others, entrusted her to secure six-figure negotiations.”
    â€œTha’s what I call good home trainin’,” Duke said. “She perfect for helpin’ me manifest my urban destiny, ’specially when we meet wit’ the Moreno Triplets and Mr. and Mrs. Marx out west. They an’ the rest o’ the world betta sit down an’ shut up. ’Cause Duke Johnson and his Duchess takin’ ova, side by side.”
    â€œWho you kiddin’?” Beamer said, laughing. “You know damn well that bigger, badder Knight gon’ come back an’ snatch Babylon back from baby br’a.”
    â€œHell naw.” Duke bit down, making his jaw muscles ripple so they’d stop trembling like the rest of him. “Knight know I be runnin’ it as good as him an’ Prince was.”
    Even though I shoulda had all this shit from when Knight firs’ got locked up. But it took me this long to figure out what the fuck I was doin’, all by my damn self. Now I know, an’ I’m gon’ make Knight finally give me my props.
    â€œYeah,” Duke said. “Me an’ Knight gon’ be equals, like him an’ Prince was.”
    â€œThen why you look scared jus’ thinkin’ about it?” Beamer asked. “Can’t nothin’ or nobody else scare The Duke.”
    Duke cranked the music louder.
    â€œExcept Knight,” Beamer said. “An’ you should be scared o’ your girl, Milan. She gon’ go off! If you make some new, light-skinded, long-haired, blue-eyed bitch yo’ Duchess, it’s gon’ be baby momma mutiny.”
    â€œMilan ain’t it.” Duke ignored the vibration of his phone flashing her number.