When A Woman Hustles by Danielle Martin (books for men to read TXT) 📕

Reese took a deep breath as she looked around absorbing her surroundings. “This is really my car.” She spoke out loud. She was flabbergasted, too in shock to show emotions. She shuddered in her seat as she began thinking about meeting King. Whoever he was, she didn’t want to meet him. But she wanted the money. And everyone knows, money is the root to all evil…

 

 

 

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

 

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Pumpkin balled up her fist, knocking on the hard steel door as she stood outside on the porch steps. It was close to 7 pm and the sun had just begun to set. Pumpkin glanced over her shoulder. The coast was clear. Her eyes traveled up at the outside of the 2 story buff brick house towering over her. She clutched the black duffel while closing up her jacket. It was chilly for a September night. She could feel the goose bumps forming underneath her clothes as she reached forward to knock again. Seconds later, the door swung open greeted by a pair of yellow eyes peeking out of the partially cracked door.

"Is King here?" She asked. Pumpkin knew he was inside. Without a response, the door slammed shut in her face. Seconds later, she heard multiples locks turning. The door swung open again, a gust of wind causing her hair to fly back behind her shoulders. She held her breath as she looked up at the tall figure standing over her. His 6’5 frame towering over her.

"What’s up Murda?" She mumbled under her breath.

He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded his head as he looked down at her. "What’s up Pumpkin? You here for a drop off?"

She nodded her head, holding up the duffel bag. "Yes.”

Murda knew why she was here. Pumpkin showed up at the same time every Saturday.

“I got someone stopping by to meet King." She continued.

He huffed. “Say what??” Murda questioned her. She tilted her head to the side as she contemplated brushing past him without an explanation. Pumpkin was tired of going through Murda every time she came to see King. Although she was used to it, that didn’t make his third degree any less tiring. Murda had been Kings main man for almost 15 years. He was around during her teenage years and although he was not as intimidating as he was in his younger days, he still sent a few shivers up her spine. Word on the streets, Murda was a cold blooded killer. There was no escaping his wrath once he got his hands on you. Murda had several family members in the justice system. He can kill you, bury your body, go to church the next morning and never be convicted for any of his crimes. Make a long story short, don’t fuck with King. Don’t fuck with Murda.

"King didn’t run that by me." Murda persisted

Pumpkin took a deep breath. She clutched the duffel bag next to her as she began to grow impatient. "That don’t matter Murda. King knows about it and I got his money. So what’s the problem? Are you going to let me in or what?"

They stared each other down for a moment. Murda was hesitant but he knew better than to protest. He stepped to the side allowing Pumpkin to proceed into the foyer. She walked inside, stepping ahead of him so he could shut the door behind her. She held the bag tightly next to her relieved she finally made it in safe. Pumpkin hated carrying large amounts of money on her. “Is he in the office?” she asked.

Murda nodded his head towards the double doors by the staircase leading to King’s office. She fell into step across the foyer, trailing across the marble floors as she approached the doorway. Pumpkin was all too familiar with this house. She never understood why Murda insisted on treating her like a stranger. Pumpkin admired the large paintings on the velvet painted walls as she walked past. Hmmm. I did a good job decorating this place. She continued to look around as she applauded her sense of style. I have true talent. I’m going to make something out of this one day.  

She approached the office door. Pumpkin knocked softly.  King knew she was here. He kept his security cameras rolling 24/7. No one stepped foot on his property if he didn’t know about it. She pushed open the door to his office, calling out his name. His desk sat in the center of the room facing the doorway. Pumpkin stuck her head in side as she looked around. As if in slow motion, her eyes fell upon King. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead as she nervously stepped inside. He sat behind his desk facing his flat screen tv. The game was on and he was visibly engulfed in the television set. Pumpkin took a moment to examine him while he wasn’t looking. His brown caramel skin glowed underneath his desk lamp. He dressed simple. A white t-shirt and a gold chain. Pumpkin licked her lips. She could feel the moist secretion drip in her panties as he finally looked over to acknowledge her. They locked gazes. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she nervously stared down the man of her dreams. The love of her life.

Pumpkin shut the door behind her. "King." His name slipped past her lips. She was in a trance. King had a fresh cut. His edges and mustache we're neatly trimmed. The aroma smelled of expensive cologne. Possibly Clive Christian. She inched closer towards his desk still clutching the duffel bag. For a moment she felt a rush of emotions take over. One day King will realize that I'm not that little girl anymore.  She convinced herself inside her head. I'm a grown woman now. We can take over the city together. I could be his Queen. 

"What’s up Pumpkin?" His deep baritone voice spoke volumes each time he opened his mouth. Pumpkin shuttered again. Today was one of those days.  She couldn’t shake the feeling nor understand how quick things changed between them. Growing up, King was like a father to her. Now, she was head over heels infatuated with his every move. Filthy thoughts invaded her mind as she began daydreaming how it would feel to straddle him like a cow girl. She bit her lip, her guilty conscience taking over as she stood in front of him, an animal in heat. "What you got for me today?" He interrupted her thoughts, jumping straight into business.

Pumpkin snapped herself out of her trance. "Ohhh." she stammered, forgetting for a moment the reason she was here. "$112,500. I gave the girl $25,000. The rest I split right down the middle.”

King nodded his head, impressed with the number. He leaned forward to puff on a cigar he retrieved from the ashtray. "$25,000?" He laughed while blowing smoke out his mouth. Pumpkin shrugged her shoulders. "Come on Pumpkin." he continued. "You could have broken her off better than that."

She rolled her eyes. He was right, but she wasn't going to admit it.

''She ain’t do nothing anyways." Pumpkin defended herself. "All she did was grab a bag and stand there. That was easy money."

"Hmmmm." King continued to puff on his cigar. "And who is she??" he narrowed his eyes as he began his questioning. "You know I don’t trust people here."

Pumpkin nodded her head. She knew that was coming next. King was a private person. He never allowed anyone to get close to him if they were not directly affiliated with his circle. "Don’t worry about that King. I got you." She attempted to distract him. Pumpkin slowly sashayed towards his desk. "She won’t be here for a while so that gives you and me some time to be alone." Pumpkin stood directly in front of him. She knew enticing King would not be easy, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

He clenched his jaw as the room grew silent. ''What I tell you about coming on to me Pumpkin?" he asked. Pumpkin ignored his resistance as she proceeded even closer towards his desk. He chuckled. King was not intimidated by her sudden advances. He wasn't like these other men.

"Now you know I don’t get down like that." He laughed at her again. Pumpkin halted in place. She hated when he laughed at her because she was not a joke. Although she was not surprised by his resistance, she was growing increasingly tired of playing his game. "And why is that King?" Pumpkin asked the question while propping her hands up on her waist. She already knew the answer. King insisted over and over again the only reason he wouldn’t date her was because she hustled. He was looking for a wholesome woman. A woman who would clean up his house, cook his meals, and remain oblivious to what he actually does for a living. In King's words, Pumpkin knew too much about his lifestyle, and that was a fire that he wasn’t ready to play with. She felt deep down inside he were using her hustling as an excuse. King was the one who molded her into the woman she is today so how could he look down upon something he created? 
"So you mean to tell me if I didn’t hustle, you and me would have a chance? What if I gave it up?" She asked. He threw his head back and laughed at her a third time. Pumpkin glared, wanting to go off for him not taking her serious, but she respected him too much and knew not to get out of line. "You not gonna give this shit up Pumpkin. You are in too deep." He continued to ridicule her. Pumpkin rolled her eyes, wishing he understood that her plan wasn’t to rob niggas forever. Deep down inside, Pumpkin wanted nothing more than to give up the game and settle down into a home with a husband, kids, and a little puppy running around. All the money in the world couldn’t change the fact that she was missing a family and always yearned for one. She shook the image out of her head, knowing now was not the time to be thinking about settling down. Pumpkin couldn’t give up hustling until she reached a million, and in her mind, she was nowhere close. She looked back at King. "So i guess you will never see me in that way, huh?" She asked, feeling like an idiot for pressing up on a man that clearly didn’t want her. King ran his fingers down the edge of his mustache while leaning forward. He crossed his hands in front of his face. "Listen, don’t get me wrong. You book smart, street smart and you got a good head on your shoulders. I know you'll treat a nigga real good. But come on Punk, you’re like a daughter to me." King gave her the nickname Punk when she was 16. Only he called her that. He took her in when no one else would.  Pumpkin's memory drifted as she reminisced on the old days. She began thinking about her drug addicted mother and her poor excuse of a father. She hated them. They left her to fend for herself when she was 13 years old. King rescued