ANYTHING 4 PROFIT (ANYTHING FOR PROFIT) by Justin Amen Floyd Page B
Authors: Justin Amen Floyd
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Jeezy was coming to town for a concert, and she planned to be the freshest bitch at the show.
When Sylvia said she was finished, and handed her a mirror, Meka quickly glanced at her reflection. Satisfied with Sylvia’s work, she took out two hundred dollar bills to pay for her new hair style, French manicure, and pedicure.
After paying Sylvia and saying goodbye to the rest of the women in the shop, Meka walked outside into the heat and bright sunlight of the early September afternoon. She stylishly put on her Gucci shades.
The sun kissed Meka’s beautiful brown skin as she walked toward her brand new, custom painted, pink Range Rover Sport. She’d purchased it only days after Twan’s murder, ignoring the advice of both her brother and Mike, who had told her to fall back and not spend any cash for a minute, until shit died down. But Meka said fuck that. She wanted it, and had the cash to get it, so she got it.
Humming the latest hit from her favorite singer, Keyshia Cole, Meka got to her truck, and reached in her Louis Vuitton handbag for her keys. Before she found her keys, a large arm wrapped around her neck from behind and lifted her completely off the ground. The culprit cut off her air supply immediately. Meka struggled against her assailant. Kicking and scratching wildly, she tried to break free of his hold.
Realizing her resistance had little effect, Meka remembered the .25 automatic that Ant D had given her a few months before. The gun was in her purse. On the verge of blacking out from lack of oxygen, she reached into her bag for the gun. Before she could retrieve it, she was savagely punched in the stomach by another man she hadn’t even noticed. That blow knocked the remaining wind out of her, along with whatever fight she had left.
Her body went limp, and the two men quickly dragged her over to a black Dodge Caravan that was parked two spaces down. They got a roll of duct tape out of the van, and wrapped it around Meka’s wrists and ankles. They put a smaller piece on her mouth, and then tossed her into the back of the van like a bag of trash. They jumped in, pulled the doors closed, and within seconds were speeding out of the parking lot.
Chapter 10
Mike pulled into the parking lot of the Hilton in downtown Greenville and brought the Escalade to a screeching stop. It was 2:03 A.M. The seven women in the truck who had left Platinum Plus with him and Ant D all breathed a sigh of relief at having made it to their destination in one piece. Mike was known for being a reckless driver. And that was when he was sober. So the weed combined with the alcohol only made shit worse. But now that they were there, it was time to get shit poppin’.
Ant D got out, walked into the brightly lit lobby and approached the clerk who was behind the desk. The middle aged, red necked woman didn’t approve of his presence, but he was a potential customer so she hid her bigotry behind a smile that was as artificial as her nose and breasts. “Welcome to the Hilton, sir, how may I help you?”
“I want the best room y’all got.”
“Well sir, we have a lot of beautiful rooms. Could you be a little more specific?”
“I want a room with a large bed, a livin’ room, a sauna, and a nice view of the city.”
“Alright, that would be a presidential suite. We charge five hundred dollars a night for that room, sir,” the clerk said, the tone of her voice implying that she didn’t believe he could afford such an expense. “Maybe you’d like something a little more in your price range.”
“Naw, I’ll take the suite,” Ant D replied. He peeled five crisp hundreds from a stack and handed it to the woman, who
When Sylvia said she was finished, and handed her a mirror, Meka quickly glanced at her reflection. Satisfied with Sylvia’s work, she took out two hundred dollar bills to pay for her new hair style, French manicure, and pedicure.
After paying Sylvia and saying goodbye to the rest of the women in the shop, Meka walked outside into the heat and bright sunlight of the early September afternoon. She stylishly put on her Gucci shades.
The sun kissed Meka’s beautiful brown skin as she walked toward her brand new, custom painted, pink Range Rover Sport. She’d purchased it only days after Twan’s murder, ignoring the advice of both her brother and Mike, who had told her to fall back and not spend any cash for a minute, until shit died down. But Meka said fuck that. She wanted it, and had the cash to get it, so she got it.
Humming the latest hit from her favorite singer, Keyshia Cole, Meka got to her truck, and reached in her Louis Vuitton handbag for her keys. Before she found her keys, a large arm wrapped around her neck from behind and lifted her completely off the ground. The culprit cut off her air supply immediately. Meka struggled against her assailant. Kicking and scratching wildly, she tried to break free of his hold.
Realizing her resistance had little effect, Meka remembered the .25 automatic that Ant D had given her a few months before. The gun was in her purse. On the verge of blacking out from lack of oxygen, she reached into her bag for the gun. Before she could retrieve it, she was savagely punched in the stomach by another man she hadn’t even noticed. That blow knocked the remaining wind out of her, along with whatever fight she had left.
Her body went limp, and the two men quickly dragged her over to a black Dodge Caravan that was parked two spaces down. They got a roll of duct tape out of the van, and wrapped it around Meka’s wrists and ankles. They put a smaller piece on her mouth, and then tossed her into the back of the van like a bag of trash. They jumped in, pulled the doors closed, and within seconds were speeding out of the parking lot.
Chapter 10
Mike pulled into the parking lot of the Hilton in downtown Greenville and brought the Escalade to a screeching stop. It was 2:03 A.M. The seven women in the truck who had left Platinum Plus with him and Ant D all breathed a sigh of relief at having made it to their destination in one piece. Mike was known for being a reckless driver. And that was when he was sober. So the weed combined with the alcohol only made shit worse. But now that they were there, it was time to get shit poppin’.
Ant D got out, walked into the brightly lit lobby and approached the clerk who was behind the desk. The middle aged, red necked woman didn’t approve of his presence, but he was a potential customer so she hid her bigotry behind a smile that was as artificial as her nose and breasts. “Welcome to the Hilton, sir, how may I help you?”
“I want the best room y’all got.”
“Well sir, we have a lot of beautiful rooms. Could you be a little more specific?”
“I want a room with a large bed, a livin’ room, a sauna, and a nice view of the city.”
“Alright, that would be a presidential suite. We charge five hundred dollars a night for that room, sir,” the clerk said, the tone of her voice implying that she didn’t believe he could afford such an expense. “Maybe you’d like something a little more in your price range.”
“Naw, I’ll take the suite,” Ant D replied. He peeled five crisp hundreds from a stack and handed it to the woman, who
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