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    Clown Niggas
    Clown Niggas
    Clown Niggas
    Ebook200 pages3 hours

    Clown Niggas

    By T. Styles

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    When Amelia Rios, a young Latina with a serious crack addiction meets the love of her life, Wyld Heart, she has no idea that it’s the wrong time. Because when the self-made kingpin makes the foolish mistake of ridiculing his cousin, Ryan Heart, in public, this careless act sets off a series of incidents so violent it unearths secrets hidden within the Heart Family, forcing Amelia to relive the reckless behavior she successfully escaped.

    Despite Spyrits, pleas for Wyld to make amends with Ryan immediately, he doesn’t heed the warning, which turns out to be the costliest error in his life.

    Tiring of the perceived disrespect from Wyld, Ryan operates in the world as if it owes him knocking over anyone who gets in the way, blood related or not.

    Greed, secrets and drama are packed in this novel guaranteed to have you laughing, guessing and yelling as T. Styles introduces the worst villain she’s created since Kali.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCartel Publications
    Release dateSep 30, 2016
    ISBN9781945240102
    Clown Niggas
    Author

    T. Styles

    Author. Show Host, Motivational Speaker. Award Winning CEO of The Cartel Publications - an international, independent publishing house, Mean Girls Magazine, Rich Bitch Publications and Cartel Urban Cinema. Toy's publishing house, The Cartel Publications, is the face of today's urban fiction and street fiction industries. In both the digital and print world, the Cartel represents the best her generation has to offer in African American literature. She has aptly been dubbed "Urban Fiction Empress" and "Literary Master". Toy is multifaceted and currently runs an independent publishing company, movie production company and a copywriting agency in the Washington DC and Maryland area. In addition, she facilitates her popular seminar "How To Write A Novel In 30 Days", using her non-fiction novel of the same title. Toy consults authors and publishing houses on what it takes to achieve success and longevity in the industry. She has been featured in The Washington Post, The Baltimore Sun, Essence Magazine, Don Diva Magazine, Oprah Winfrey's Network and Urban Book Source. She has been awarded Author Of The Year by AAMBC and was voted Most Underrated Author by The Urban Book Source. When not writing, running the Cartel or producing independent movies based on her company's novels, Toy travels and shoots videos for Cartel TV, a show geared toward her publishing house. Her first movie, 'Pitbulls In A Skirt', under her movie production company Cartel Urban Cinema is due first followed by 'Mother Monster'. Her novels include, The End (How To Write A Book In 30 Days), A Hustler's Son (series), Black & Ugly (series), Raunchy (series), Shyt List (series), Pitbulls In A Skirt (series), Redbone (series), The Face That Launched A Thousand Bullets, Quita's Dayscare Center, Reversed, Luxury Tax, and Cold As Ice. www.thecartelpublications.com - www.richbitchpublications.com www.meangirlsmagazine.com - www.cartelurbancinema.com Specialities: Publishing, Writing, Public Speaking (Motivational, Branding, Writing), Copywriting

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      Book preview

      Clown Niggas - T. Styles

      PROLOGUE

      When I was a little girl I wanted to marry my father. In my eyes there was no more perfect man. He humored me of course, telling me if there wasn’t a nigga who could measure up then he’d never give my hand away in marriage.

      Well I lost my father at 18 years old.

      He pressed the barrel of a .45 against his right nostril frying the same side of his brain. Every night since then I wet my bed because he was holding my hand when he exited the world, forcing me to experience death earlier than a child should.

      He lost at the game of life but it didn’t stop my hunt. It didn’t stop the craving I had to meet a man with honor, strength and money. But after switching from a heroin addiction before sidelining into crack I gave up my hopes at love.

      I was lost, roaming the streets of Baltimore, my pussy full with the liquid of men I’d given myself to for drugs or worse, a little time.

      I was ready to walk over the Key Bridge, crawl over the rusted railing and offer my body to the Patapsco River if she would have me. Until I met Wyld Heart.

      He was everything I looked for in a man but a little more. I remember staring up into his green moss colored eyes, as he handed me my recently purchased yellow tinted crack rock. The smell of oil, gas and musty arms covering my body because I had become a fixture of the streets, like an unloved stray dog.

      And yet he was different, not my original dealer, he was kind and considerate as he serviced me.

      So when I became his fiancé, a year and a half later, it was no surprise that he didn’t recognize me clean when he met me again. He had given me life and even asked me, a crack whore, to be his wife.

      The thing is Wyld is straight up, doesn’t even drink. And if he even knew about my drug addicted past he would banish me from his life, removing the 4 Carat diamond ring that weighed down my hand, making it difficult for me to run my fingers through my silky black hair.

      So naturally when his cousin Ryan sat behind me in the living room as I glanced down at Wyld’s face I knew my fairytale had met a horror story ending. It was Ryan who remembered the many dick sucks I’d given him for a break on the dope. One word from him about my crack habit and my world would be ruined…forever.

      I guess Ryan will get what he wanted after all. And I’ll have to go along with his plan.

      I guess I was foolish.

      Who would really want a crack head as a wife?

      CHAPTER ONE

      2 YEARS EARLIER – BALTIMORE

      Amelia Rios

      I’ma Bust Quick, I Promise.

      The violent sun beamed overhead as Amelia stood behind the private elementary school, peering into the gated window as she watched a group of 6 year olds reluctantly prepare for a nap, a requirement for the advanced prep school. She resembled a pedophilic creep as she hunted. The heat from above so high that her naked toes, pressed against the black concrete, felt as if they were singeing.

      One hundred percent Latina, her skin was so dirty her mother wouldn’t recognize her. Her choppy bangs covered the top of her face, while keeping in view her cat like eyes.

      When the children where on their cots, preparing for their thirty minute sleep, Amelia stooped down just as a female First Grade teacher trudged out for her daily smoke, leaving the door ajar so she could reenter after receiving her nicotine high.

      The moment she sparked her cigarette, the tip a flaming orange, Amelia snaked her frail body through the door unnoticed. As the children wriggled around in their cots she slid on a new pair of white and red boys Jordan’s', just her size, before stuffing another pair down her jeans, near her rank smelling pussy. Next she dug into the teacher’s purse, removing a wallet full of twenty-dollar bills and a few credit cards.

      It was her best hit yet.

      She was about to head out when the First Grade Teacher stepped up to her, the smell of her smoking habit in the air. What the fuck you doing in here?

      Aw, One of the boys said pointing a short finger her way. You said a bad word, Mrs. Keith.

      The teacher knew her slip up would lead to problems later but now she had a thief in her mist whom she had to annihilate. I asked what are you doing here? Slowly she observed the new shoes on her feet and the bulge in Amelia’s pants that she was certain was not a dick.

      She was stealing and the teacher was furious.

      I’m…I’m…sorry but I gotta go. She lowered her head in an effort to conceal her face. I’m in the wrong building. Amelia made a failed attempt to push past her that ended in defeat. Realizing she was dealing with a natural born combatant she had to rethink her approach if she wanted to make it out on her own recognizance.

      If you think I’m gonna let you out of here with our shit, bitch you crazy. The First Grade Teacher advised, cracking her knuckles so hard they sounded as if they would break off and fall at her feet. I’m sick of you crack whores fucking up the city and I’m about to make you personally pay for it all.

      When the woman stepped in front of Amelia again, Amelia grew scared. Just one look in the First Grade Teacher’s eyes told her of all the females she’d beaten when she was coming up in the projects.

      For lesser offenses at that.

      Amelia made a healthy mistake of judging her prey when she picked the classroom. Just because a person had a job didn’t mean they wouldn’t resort to their old ways if given a chance, and this teacher seemed all to eager to relive the bloody fist fights of yesteryear.

      Mind racing, and mouth watering, Amelia gazed around for a weapon and when she saw nothing outside of a few glue bottles and crayon boxes she had to think like a desperate crack fiend in the streets. Basically revert to her natural habitat.

      Collecting as much liquid as she could muster in her mouth, she whipped up just as much air and spit in the woman’s face. Her saliva, mixed with spoiled food and semen hung off the woman’s nose and stank horribly.

      With her victim incapacitated she ran out the door, the teacher’s cries mixed with obscenities behind her.

      Perched on a worn out brown sofa, stuffed with newspaper and held together barely with duct tape, Amelia sat naked from the waist down on top of it getting high. It hadn’t been two hours since she robbed the school and already her money was gone along with both pair of Jordan’s' and her self-respect. At the moment she couldn’t even recall where her pants or panties were, nor did she care.

      Her last caper ended like they all did, with her in a seated position in a crack house, using a chair as a resting place and a toilet respectably.

      She was just about to hunt for more money when she glanced up and saw a young girl giving oral sex to a local dealer across the way. Her eyes widened when her high lifted a little, enough for her to recognize the servicer’s side profile. Blinking a few times she swallowed the lump in her throat when she saw her cousin, Tawny, who was five years younger.

      She hadn’t even known she was an addict until that moment.

      On an ill-equipped mission to stop the horrid act and send the child on her way, Amelia attempted to rise to her bare feet but learned quickly that her equilibrium was not prepared for such a feat, sending her crashing to the floor.

      And there she lay. Face pressed against the pissy carpet as she watched the sides of Tawny’s head be handled like a basketball, with the dealer’s penis tucked firmly in her throat.

      When she awoke she struggled to breathe as she felt someone on top of her from behind. She tried to wiggle from up under the culprit but he was strong and his dick was embedded inside her body as he used it as a weapon. This type of thing happened many times to the other girls but never to Amelia. She gave her box away willingly for the right price, just not to him.

      Just stay down, girl, this ain’t gonna take but a second, Kante’, the resident crack head who owned the house said. As good as this pussy is I’ma bust quick, I promise.

      Hearing his voice, mixed with lustful panting reminded her of his gruesome legend. He asked many times to pay her for sex and she always refused after learning that he may be responsible for half the Baltimore crack head women floating in the city with HIV. But he was raping her and there was nothing she could do but plead with him to cease his actions immediately.

      Kante’, I’m begging you, please don’t do this. I’m pregnant. You…you gonna hurt the baby, She lied, her salty tears creeping in her mouth. Please stop! I don’t—

      Her words were halted when he came down on her face hard with his hand, a sweaty ten-dollar bill stuck to his white palm. Now I paid! And you gonna give me what I bought or I will break your fucking neck when I’m done.

      Money stuck to her cheek, her body jerked back and forth as he continued to pound into her, not stopping until he gained relief, splashing semen inside.

      A dingy men’s black jacket wrapped around her waist to conceal her nakedness, vagina throbbing, Amelia clutched the ten-dollar bill in her palm as she walked toward the block to buy a rock. After the rape and seeing Tawny being assaulted she decided she wanted out of the crack life. And as she replayed her vow to get clean once and for all in her mind, she knew it was all a fucking lie.

      Besides where would she start?

      Her mother was nowhere to be found after her father committed suicide and she burned so many bridges with family members that she wasn’t even allowed on folks’ front porches. The pretty Latina lost all of her important relationships and was dangerously close to losing her looks.

      At the end of the day she was alone.

      Wobbling down the block, Amelia noticed it was bare. This put her on edge because the cravings were coming down so hard she wasn’t sure if she could make it anywhere else. But when she glanced further upward she saw a tall light skin man, about twenty something in age, reprimanding her normal dealer. She couldn’t make out what was being said but when the conversation was over her dealer, Ryan, stomped away angrily.

      Moving close to the tall man she was startled when she looked into his green eyes. They were hypnotic. What you need? he asked, his voice deep like a foghorn but nicer.

      She gripped at the jacket she was wearing, hoping her private parts weren’t exposed, as if he gave a fuck. Half of Baltimore city had seen that pussy as well as a few dope dealers in D.C. I…he was my… She pointed in the direction the dealer disappeared.

      Ryan ain’t coming back. He frowned. So what you need?

      She handed him the damp ten-dollar bill, her fingertips trembling. He observed the money for authenticity, looked over his shoulder at the man behind him and gave him the cash. Amelia didn’t know the other dealer was there because Wyld consumed her investigation.

      The man presented green eyes with the package and he gave her the rock. This meager act wasn’t in his job description normally because Wyld Heart was the boss but for some reason he did the criminal honors.

      I hope that makes your troubles go away. Looks like you need it. He walked off, leaving her alone.

      CHAPTER TWO

      Wyld Heart

      It Looks Fit For A Female To Me.

      The wind blew a thin dustsheet over the sparkling money magnets as they sat on the porch of a red brick apartment building.

      Always fresh, Wyld (pronounced Wild) Heart swept the particles off his new white Polo T and focused on the scene that was Baltimore before him. To his right was his cousin Spyrit (pronounced Spirit) and to his left was Bosh, an up and coming block hugger who Wyld was attempting to rear up in the street life the proper way.

      I’m not fucking with Quaykiesha no more, Spyrit said as he stuffed his cell in his jean pocket before scratching his vanilla colored face as a police car whizzed by. When the siren was out of earshot he pulled a bottle of Ciroc vodka from behind his back and burned his pallet by gulping a mouthful. The bitch run too many games for me. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

      Nigga, you been saying that shit for years, Wyld reminded him. Just do it already and stop making announcements.

      You don’t get it, cuz. He twisted the cap back on the bottle and sat it between his white Giuseppe tennis shoes. "She sucks dick

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