9

Oh shit,” Head groaned with pleasure while he was sleeping. It felt like he was having a wet dream, but when he opened his eyes, he was waking up to the most amazing blowjob he’d had in a long time.

Pebbles had started deep-throating him. Her lips rapidly slid up and down his hard and long dick, her head moving like a bobblehead as she sucked and slurped. Head was in absolute bliss. The sensation of her full, sweet lips was making his toes curl and his eyes roll around in his head like he was possessed.

“What the fuck?” he muttered.

She curtly stopped her pleasurable act to reply, “Just relax, baby. I got you,” and she went back to her business.

It took fifteen minutes for her lips to pull the cum from his dick. After Head nutted in her mouth, Pebbles rolled out of bed and left the bedroom naked to go make him some breakfast. Her cute face wore a satisfied smile that looked painted on.

Head had to collect himself for a moment. The blowjob had him stuck. He figured that she had gotten a new contract and wanted to treat him to something nice this morning. He wasn’t complaining.

He remained in her bed, relishing the moment for a while, and then he got up and walked to the window butt naked and took a look outside. He peered at the city block—a very busy Manhattan. Some time ago it was his city.

While Pebbles was in the kitchen cooking for him, Head decided to pick up his smart phone and check out her Instagram page. It was the quickest way to find out information nowadays. Once he was on her page, he saw Pebbles in countless posts taken in high-end stores—Chanel, YSL, Prada, Hermes—buying bags, shoes, scarves, belts, and outfits. She also had all types of hash tags—#spoiled #mymansbetterthanyours #wedoitbig. But what really got under his skin was that all those posts mentioned @Heads___Home. He went to the handle and there was his face with several pictures of them from when she came to visit him. Some were more recent and some were of him sleeping in her bed. He had warned her that he wasn’t down with that kind of exposure, but Pebbles had created an account that made it seem he liked that dumb shit. He had over two hundred thousand followers.

“What the fuck!” he muttered to himself.

Pebbles was trying to make him a social media icon. But what bothered him too was seeing the new clothes, jewelry, and shoes in the pictures. He casually walked to her closet and looked through all her belongings. She had indeed bought everything with the twenty thousand he’d given her. The ignorant, materialistic woman had put her image before home.

“This fucking airhead,” he said with disappointment.

To cool off, he decided to take a shower. While the water cascaded down on him, Head closed his eyes and he knew that it was time to put his plans into action. During his time in prison, he did a lot of reading, absorbing books that amplified his knowledge and spiritual awakening. He became enlightened to the world around him. His past was behind him, but his future was looming fast like a speeding train. As he lingered in the shower collecting his thoughts, he heard knocking at the door. It was Pebbles telling him that breakfast was ready.

“I’m not hungry,” he casually replied.

His reply left her stunned. “Huh? You’re not hungry? But I cooked you a good meal.”

“I said I’m not hungry,” he reiterated.

“Well, do you want me to join you?”

“Nah. I’m almost done,” he said.

“You sure? I can come in there and soap you up from head to toe and continue what I started in the bedroom.”

“I said I’m almost done.”

“Okay. Fine.”

Pebbles knew something had changed with Head all of a sudden. Why was he being so terse with her? She sighed. She figured it was either a bitch or business. Pebbles turned around and went back into the kitchen while Head continued to shower.

After spending about a half hour in the shower, Head exited the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist to see Pebbles standing naked in the hallway waiting for him to come out. She grinned his way but he didn’t smile back.

“Henry, why the sudden attitude with me?”

He ignored her and went into the bedroom.

She followed behind him. “Did I do something wrong?”

He continued the silent treatment while he started to get dressed.

“I wake you up sucking your dick like a porn star and this is how you do me?”

He coolly glanced her way and continued to say nothing. Her nakedness wasn’t enticing at the moment. The only thing he wanted to do was leave.

“Just tell me, what did I do wrong?”

He threw on his Timberland boots, stood up, grabbed a gym bag, coolly looked at her, and replied, “I’m out.”

He walked to the front door. Pebbles was right behind him, looking desperate to hear him say something—some kind of explanation for the sudden attitude.

“Baby, just talk to me. Please,” she begged.

She grabbed his forearm to prevent him from leaving so abruptly, but Head turned to look at her with a sharp stare that could cut through steel. Pebbles knew to remove her grip from him.

“Like I said, I’m out.”

He walked through the door and Pebbles was left standing there naked looking like a lost puppy.

Outside, Head climbed into an Uber.

“Where to?” asked the driver.

“Valley Stream, Long Island,” said Head.

“Okay.”

Head sat back and gazed out the window. From Manhattan to Long Island was a long drive, but he didn’t care. He needed to think. He needed to rebuild and stay focused.

An hour later, Head climbed out of the Uber at First National Bank in Valley Stream, Long Island. He peered at the building on the busy boulevard before heading inside to meet with the bank manager. After Head provided the information needed for security reasons, the manager escorted Head to an area filled with safety deposit boxes.

“I hope everything is to your satisfaction, Mr. Jackson,” the bank manager said.

“It is.”

“Well, I’ll give you some privacy,” the manager said and left the room.

With his key, Head opened one of the safety deposit boxes that he’d long ago set up via a dummy corporation. Inside was exactly $200,000. Head might not have buried his millions like Pablo Escobar, but he was diligent in hiding his cash in different locations.

He removed the money from the box and placed it into the small gym bag he brought with him. With the gym bag zipped and tossed over his shoulder, he left the bank two hundred thousand dollars richer. Subsequently, he got into a cab and told the driver to take him to Northern Boulevard in Queens.

The car dealership where all hustlers went for the hottest cars without any red tape was where Head wanted to be dropped off. The moment Head stepped foot onto the lot, he had a salesman approaching him with a wide grin and encouraging behavior.

“You look like a man who knows what he wants,” said the salesman.

“It depends,” Head responded.

“I’m Mark,” he said, shaking Head’s hand.

“Henry Jackson.”

“So, Mr. Jackson, what brings you to our dealership? Are you looking for something in particular?”

“I need something nice.”

“Well, look around you. We carry the best cars New York has ever seen. And as far as the paperwork, we can take care of that too.”

“I know. That’s the reason I came here.”

“So I take it that you’ve done business with us before?”

“In the past.”

Mark smiled. “Well, we’re glad to have a repeat customer.”

Head went looking around the car lot where exotic and luxury vehicles such as Ferraris, Bentleys, Maseratis, and Aston Martins were for sale for a hefty price.

“You look like a man that would do well in a McLaren,” said Mark.

Head chuckled. “Seriously? Me in that?”

“It will definitely get the ladies’ attention.”

“I don’t need a car like that to get the ladies’ attention,” he countered.

“I believe you. You do look like a ladies’ man.”

Head walked toward something that caught his eye. It was a black-on-black Range Rover. He knew he would blend better in a Range. He wasn’t a rapper or a ball player, or even legit.

“I see you’re an SUV kind of man. I should have predicted that,” said Mark.

“I like this. What’s the price on it?”

“It’s ninety-five thousand. But for you, I’ll let it go for ninety and it’s truly a first-class travel experience. It comes fully loaded with top-of -the-line technology, touch-sensitive switches, along with beautiful leather interior—”

“I’ll take it,” Head interrupted his pitch. He didn’t need to hear any more.

Mark helped him with the paperwork, and Head handed him the cash for the purchase. He then drove out of the dealership in his late-model custom black-on-black Range Rover. It was his type of ride—sitting up high and cruising around town like a boss.

After leaving the dealership, Head drove to the Courtyard Marriott in Queens where he booked a room for the week. He wanted a low-key hotel he could easily get to without traffic and hoopla until he was able to get his own apartment.

He breezed through the streets of Brooklyn a single man. And while cruising, Pebbles called him repeatedly but he refused to answer. She didn’t leave him any of the messages he thought he would hear, like saying she needed money to pay her bills.

Back at the Courtyard Marriott that night, the only thing he could think about was Cartier.