No Matter What Read online

  No Matter What

  By: Nicole Jackson

  COPYRIGHT© 2019 No Matter What by Nicole Jackson Published by Nicole Jackson Presents. Unless otherwise indicated, all materials on these pages are copyrighted by the Nicole Jackson. All rights reserved. No part of these pages, either text or image may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission.

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  Chapter 1

  “Uh, damn, let me outta this musty ass van,” Nunnie complained, as she climbed out of the back of the seven passengers caravan.

  “Hoe, shut up,” Dreka scoffed, as she climbed out, as well. “You probably the musty one.”

  Nunnie took a long stretch, drawing attention to her flat stomach, which was exposed, due to the fact that she rocked a small Jordan tee, which was tied up in the front.

  Dreka shook her head in disappointment. “Nunnie, I told you to dress for the club. So, why the fuck would you throw on some hoe shorts, Jordans, and that damn t-shirt is beyond me. And then we all got our hair together, but you just threw your shit in that scruffy ass ponytail. I mean, come on. When you gon grow out of this lil’ girl shit?”

  Nunnie whipped her head around, causing her huge ponytail to bounce with her. “What chu mean?”

  Tink, Drias, and Tellie stood laughing at the sisters’ argument. Nunnie had recently turned 18 and would now run with them, therefore, she was still getting used to partying and club hopping. So, often times Dreka felt personally obligated to steer her younger sister in the right fashionable direction, especially since that was what she was known for. Dreka had dressing down to a science, and she felt that her little sister was a reflection of her, so, she never wanted her to step out looking like a slouch.

  Crazily, Dreka and Nunnie were physically opposites. The sisters were both peanut butter brown with slightly light brown eyes, but there was where the similarities ended. Dreka had course short hair that never really grew, therefore, she kept it well-groomed, and weaved up. On the contrary, Nunnie’s hair was thick and wavy, and grew like weeds, so she rarely felt the need to sport a weave. Weave or no weave really didn’t matter to Dreka, but she wanted her sister to put forth more effort, regardless. Nunnie wearing her natural hair didn’t mean that it shouldn’t be properly groomed for the occasion, and frankly a wild ponytail at the crown of her head appeared just flat out lazy to her sister. Then while Dreka was slim, Nunnie was super thick, and their physical make-up made the difference in the importance of their clothing. Dreka could never grasp the concept of simply rocking Jordans and a tee. It would appear so plain on her. Nothing standout about it. However, this was a completely different story for Nunnie. Nunnie had the kind of physique that made anything look good, as she was extremely shapely, coming fully equipped with sharp hips, thick thighs, and a nice round ass. In fact, she was what one could consider plus size, as she wore a size 12/14, but she was so tight with it that the notion almost seemed preposterous. There wasn’t an ounce of cellulite on her body or a roll on her back. Nunnie was as physically fit as someone half her size, as the niggas around the hood all labeled her big fine.

  “I’m saying,” Dreka carried on. “We ‘bout to go up here to this party. We at the fucking Double Tree, Nunnie. These niggas spent a lil’ change for this party, the whole hood finna be up there, and you could’ve came better than this.”

  Nunnie looked her sister up and down, peeping out her attire. Dreka rocked a Versace dress that she’d boosted from the Galleria mall. The bundles of Indian hair in her head had been snatched up from a smash and grab. So, yes, she was well put together, but it had also been by way of committing multiple felonies in the process. Who in the hell was trying to go through all that, just to look cute for a bunch of niggas they saw back in the hood on a daily, anyway?

  “Bitch, fuck them niggas. I aint trying to impress their broke asses. I bet half of ‘em got on their niggas’ chains, trying to stunt, so I know they gon let me and my baby hairs, lil’ beauty supply lashes, and Foot Locker outfit make it.”

  Tink was tickled by Nunnie’s candor. “This hoe is a real-life clown, man. I swear.”

  Dreka rolled her eyes. “Nah, don’t encourage her ass. Cause she needs to feel me. Now, we all know that everybody and they mama is gonna have their cameras out. Who knows what stories we’ll be in on the Gram, and I just don’t want nobody on no funny shit. Like my sister aint on her shit or that I’m letting her walk around with me, when I know that she aint up to par.”

  Drias pursed her lips, catching Dreka’s attention.

  “Hoe, I see you making that face. What you got to say? And don’t be on no fake shit, while me, you, and everybody else came together and got on Versace.”

  Drias sighed. “Dreka, be for real, man. We got what we got, cause we ran up in those stores. Nunnie didn’t. She works at Footlocker and be hitting them hoes up for some fresh shit. I mean, it might not be what you would wear, but that don’t make it no less fresh. And her hair…she can pull that shit off, cause she got a nice grade. You know them niggas love that shit. So, her lil’ sporty, sexy, wild look works for her. I mean, I don’t know what’s your problem with it. As long as she’s not looking dirty, and she’s presentable, then her individual swag shouldn’t be your concern.”

  Dreka sucked her teeth. “Aww, whatever. You hoes are just saying that, cause yall want her to go in there looking whack, so all the focus can be on you. And Nunnie’s dumb ass is gonna fall for it.”

  Without warning, Nunnie squatted, and wobbled her ass, while clutching her knees. “Well, let me go take my whack ass in there and show you hoes how it’s done.”

  “Ha!” Tink boasted, while wagging her tongue. “You say I’ma dog, but it takes one to know one, alright,” she randomly rapped she and Nunnie’s favorite song.

  “And I can go for hours and believe me. Had to show one. Alright,” Nunnie joined in, rapping as she twerked in the middle of the parking garage. “See, I prefer the floor, not the bed. Fiending for you, I can get it wet.” She performed.

  Dreka placed her hands on her thin hips. “Can you save this thot shit for when we get into the party, ma’am? Damn. Can’t take your ass nowhere.”

  “Come here, sister,” Nunnie commanded, as she gripped Dreka’s hips. Playfully, she rolled her hips up against her.

  “Move!” Dreka shouted, shoving her sister back. “You fucking play too much!”

  “Aww, that baby in her feelings?” Nunnie cooed. “Tighten up.” She popped Dreka’s ass, causing everyone to giggle.

  Despite the disagreements and banter, the sisters usually did enjoy one another’s company and tonight would be no different. There was a three-year age difference, but they primarily shared the same friends. Together they felt comfortable and had a blast, so they’d usually move as a unit.

  Therefore, they entered Chubby’s hotel suite together, as a crew of five. Chubby was from the hood and was a part of a family that pretty much ran the Ward. He did his thing, and was always throwing parties, however, you had to be considered a somebody to receive an invite to his shindig. Being that the girls were all from Fifth Ward, they all knew Chubby personally, and were regulars at his events. So, they weren’t surprised to see the turnout. The crowd was thick, as p
eople stood shoulder to shoulder in the enormous presidential suite.

  “I aint trying to die young, so I ride with one. Stood ten toes down in my Balenciaga’s. He ran out on a nigga, that’s a shotta, shotta. Cold hearted nigga with the blocka blocka—” Roddy Ricch blasted from the speakers.

  Laughing to herself, as they moved through the crowd, Nunnie thought of him, figuring that he was probably somewhere in there, rocking to this song.

  Dreka tapped her shoulder. “Look at this nigga.”

  The whole crew paused, as they noticed several cats from HOB clique, which affectionately stood for hard on a bitch. The guys were seemingly in their own worlds, as they animatedly rapped the lyrics of the song. In Nunnie’s eyes, one guy in particular was the ringleader, and he stood out, as he always did.

  Mix stood in the middle of his boys, shirtless, rocking Givenchy jeans with a Louie belt and matching sneakers. He was tall and slender. He rocked a tapered fade with an ocean of waves. His light brown upper body was littered in tatts, including one right near his right eye. The closest thing he had to jewelry was two rubber bands dangling from his wrists.

  It was evident that he was a young hungry cat, who hadn’t yet reached the pinnacle of success. Being from Fifth Ward, being fresh was a given. Niggas were going to literally kill to ensure that they showed up in the latest threads, however, the absence of jewels and things of that nature was a dead giveaway. He wasn’t balling out of control, but his swagger couldn’t be denied.

  “I be in the streets nigga, I stand ten toes. Any nigga in my situation woulda been fold. We was trappin’ out the basement, made it back tenfold.

  Gotta stay out the way, that’s why I’m always on it, tenfold. We was fighting fed cases, remember I was 2 and 0. Nigga was fightin’ the pressure, sippin’ syrup, I was movin’ slow. I was down below, but still, I always kept my head up. Nigga gotta get my bread up, I don’t wanna die young,” Mix rapped, as a blunt dangled from his mouth.

  Nunnie cracked a devilish grin. “Yeah, he thinks he’s really something.”

  Dreka nodded in agreement. “Don’t he, though?”

  Wasting no time, Tink sauntered right over to the fellows. “Smoke something,” she greeted them.

  Most of the guys graciously smiled.

  “What’s up, Tink? With ya fine ass,” Mix’s right hand, Sunny spoke.

  “What’s up?” Tink responded, offering him a half hug.

  Soon, all the girls had stepped over, joining Tink. Being that everyone was from the same the hood, they’d all regularly hang in the hood together, on Brewster. So, they’d naturally link, and talk shit, but certain people were acting brand new tonight. Nunnie could feel him staring a hole into the side of her face, but she refused to acknowledge him.

  “Say, Nunnie, why yo hoe ass aint hold them Jays for a nigga today? You know a nigga was coming,” Sunny griped. “I see you managed to snag them bitches for yourself, though.”

  Nunnie sucked her teeth. “Shit, Ion recall you bringing no money by the spot last night. You know how I get it. No money. No hold. The fuck I look like?”

  He lifted his chin. “My nigga, is you for real? You know damn well that I got it.”

  She pursed her lips. “The hell you say. Ion know nothing. What I know is that you niggas is hooks and will scheme on your own mama, so I damn sho’ aint the exception. So, like my grandma always said, money on the wood makes the gambling good. I move with the money in hand, man.”

  Mix smirked, while puffing on his blunt.

  Sunny nudged his boy. “Nigga, you hear this shit?”

  Mix nodded. “I hear it.”

  Nunnie narrowed her eyes. “And what that mean to me? You hear it? Okay, now what?”

  Mix lightly chuckled. “You always looking for problems, girl.”

  “You too,” she shot back.

  “Yeah, okay—” he got out, before she snatched his blunt out of his grasp.

  “The fuck?” Sunny spat. “You be violating like a muthafucka, man.”

  With total disregard, Nunnie arrogantly blew smoke in Sunny’s face. Frowning, Sunny glanced back at his boy. “Nigga, get your shit back from her roaching ass.”

  Mix stepped around Sunny, approaching Nunnie. Surprising most of the onlookers, he hooked an arm around her waist, tugging her away from the crowd. Keeping it ghetto, Nunnie bopped to the music, while she inhaled the weed smoke.

  “Nunu, what’s popping?” he whispered into her ear, referring to her by the name he’d personally given her.

  Nunnie blew smoke from her nostrils. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

  “How you come through this bitch and don’t speak when you lay eyes on a nigga?”

  She shrugged. “Who said that I saw you?”

  “Cause I was watching you from across the room, Nunu. Our eyes met. Tell me they didn’t.”

  She shook her head, and slyly smiled. “I aint gon do that.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Anyway,” she sighed. “Your niggas are looking a lil’ lost without you. You might wanna go tend to that—”

  “They’ll be alright,” he cut her off.

  “Hmm-hmm, is that, right? Well, did you think about what I asked you? Are you gonna let me get a lil’ money with you or what?”

  He briefly paused. “Nah. You stick to that Foot Locker grind. Leave that street shit to a nigga like me.”

  Dramatically, her head fell back. “Aww, there you go.”

  “Oh, you’on wanna hear what’s real?”

  She shook her head. “Nope.”

  “See, that’s what I be talkin’ about. That’s why we can’t see eye to eye. You hardheaded.”

  “Shit, they told me that only dogs are obedient.”

  He chuckled lightly.

  “Ion see nothing funny.”

  “But I do, though,” he contended.

  “We made a bond from the very beginning. I found my homie and my best friend. I’mma be there for ya till the very end. No matter what, no matter what, no matter what, yeah. We broke the rules, we took it further then. We made a promise to each other we gone never end. She gone be there for the kid, no matter what—” Future’s No Matter What floated from the speakers.

  Hearing their song, Nunnie sensually twirled her hips to the beat, while Mix held her closely. Their friends all stood back, looking at them strangely, but they didn’t bother glancing their way.

  Bobbing his head to the music, Mix rapped directly in her ear. “Your face your shape and the lil things about ya. Had the kid all in. Anytime we spend time, we spend more than we spend Benjamin’s. What the fuck this high saddity girl want to do with an astronaut kid…Or asking myself questions, I had to understand. You gotta live and learn to make mistakes to be the man. We didn’t mean for it to get this serious. I got another nigga bitch with me. And I’m falling for her, yeah I’m falling for her. We ain’t got no strings attached. I want her more and more—”

  Nunnie stood with her eyes closed tightly, as his breath caressed her neck.

  “Come on,” he commanded suddenly, grabbing her hand.

  Practically hypnotized, she allowed him to guide her away from the crowd. Soon, they were traveling down a hallway. Before Nunnie could question where they were headed, Mix pulled her into an empty bathroom.

  Closing the door and locking it, he focused on her.

  She took a deep breath. “I told you that I can’t do this with you.”

  He unbuckled his belt. “Do what?”

  She narrowed her slanted eyes. “This.”

  Tuning her out, he dropped his jeans along with his boxers, allowing his enormous erection to spring up. Unconsciously, her eyes lowered to his mammoth sized dick. Without thinking, she backed into the sink.

  “See, you don’t listen.”

  Arrogantly, Mix groped himself. “You scared?”

  She sucked her teeth. “Boy.”

  He licked his lips. “I’m saying, act like it. You ‘bout it, huh?”

  “I’m ‘bo
ut what?”

  “’Bout that action.”

  She tittered. “Who said all that?”

  “You.”

  “Nah,” she denied. “I never said all that.”

  He smiled, as he gripped her shorts. “Stop playing, man.”

  Standing there, she allowed him to peel her shorts off. Of course, she wore no panties. “Big fine ass,” he mumbled to himself, as he eased between her legs. “Take off this fucking shirt and bra, man. Come on. You know what’s up. I need to see it all. Don’t play.”

  Helping him out, she lifted her shirt above her head. Impatiently, he snatched her bra off for her, before hungrily lowering his head, and drawing a nipple into his mouth. Unconsciously, she rolled her hips, as he had her seriously aroused. Cuffing her boobs, he somehow managed to slide his erection into her. Nunnie opened her legs wide, while he pumped vigorously into her. His strokes were long and deep, while he continuously suckled on her nipple.

  “Aw fuck,” Nunnie panted, as she placed both palms on the counter, while meeting his hard thrusts.

  Loudly, their skin clapped, as the sounds echoed off the walls, creating distinctive noise that could be heard on the other side of the door. The two were losing control, working up a sweat, as someone now drunkenly knocked on the door.

  “Aye, I gotta piss!” some nigga pounded on the door.

  Aggressively, Mix grabbed Nunnie into a bear hug, as he pounded into her. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” she panted passionately.

  Mix’s balls slapped her pussy’s lips, as he pumped into her, letting her have it. She sank her nails into his back, while he fucked her senselessly.

  “Say, main! This my muthafuckin’ suite, and I gotta piss!” Chubby clearly fumed as he beat on the door.

  “Fuck!” Mix grunted, as he erupted deep inside of Nunnie.

  Nunnie rolled her eyes, as she struggled to catch her breath. “Let’s get out of here, before he bitches a fit. You know how that nigga is.”

  Nodding his head, Mix slowly pulled out of her. “Aright.”

  Doing the best they could, they quickly cleaned up, before redressing. Right after, they pulled the door open, stepping out of the bathroom.