Life

Leo Sullivan

Sujets

• Urban Books

Informations

• Publié par: Sullivan Group Publishing, LLC
• Date de parution: 08 janvier 2006
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781946789419
• Langue: English

Extrait

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published by Sullivan Productions, LLC
Copyright © 2008 by Leo Sullivan
Library of Congress Control Number:
2005930724
Sullivan Productions, LLC P.O. Box 1342
Decatur, GA 30031-1342
[e-mail]
Contents



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Synopsis

Note


1. “The Set-up”

2. “A Black Woman’s Love”

3. “Flirting with Death”

4. “Fahrenheit of Lust”

5. “The Land of Milk and Honey”

6. “Thug Love versus Old Love”

7. “All in the Name of the Game”

8. “The Ultimate Betrayal”

9. “Starting Over”

10. “A Bird in the Hand”

11. “The Jump-Off ”

12. “Crooked Cops”

13. “A Deadly Confrontation”

14. “Gangsta’s Paradise”

15. “Game Over”

16. “Against all Odds”

17. “The Ultimate Betrayal”

18. “A New Beginning”

19. “Time To Get Ready for Trial”

20. “The Lion’s Den”

21. “We Die Hard”

22. “Change”

23. “The Verdict”

24. “All Eyes On Me”

25. “The Day of Judgment”

Epilogue


Part 2 Available Now!

Note From Leo Sullivan

About the Author

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Synopsis

Hope Evans is an eccentric college student, born and raised in Miami's notorious Pork and Beans Projects. All her life, Hope has dreamed of becoming a lawyer and one day helping her people out of ghetto oppression.
By some uncanny fate, Hope meets the handsome thug, Life, in the midst of his desperate attempts to elude a massive police manhunt. Their brief encounter leads to a liaison of lust and passion, but with vast differences they soon part ways. Years later, Hope and Life meet again on opposite sides of a courtroom.
Life , one of the biggest drug kingpins in the United States, is on trial for his life. On the other side of the courtroom is Assistant US District Attorney Hope Evans, who is holding a deep, dark secret. The infamous kingpin, Life, is the father of her child.
Life is the ultimate tale of murder, sex, drugs and betrayal.
Dedication



This book is dedicated to my mentor and best friend in memory of his son Tupac Shakur (God bless his soul). Mutulu, there aren’t enough words in any language to express my love for you, my teacher, my mentor, the father that I never had. You treated me like I was your own son.

For me, it was a blessing to have spent nearly ten years of my life under your diligent guidance. You forced my mind to go to another level, to a plateau outside the mundane box of limitations that unconsciously some Blacks have been trained to place on our minds.

You embraced my writing, nurtured it. Had me writing lengthy essays and treatise. You had me on the radio doing poetry, speaking in front of packed audiences. I was scared to death! Remember? You told me that they had to let me in the door. We would argue, people would walk by and see us yelling at each other.

I’ll never forget the day they moved me to another plantation (prison) after all those years of being around you, I was crushed! One day I set down to write you a letter and I just cried…and cried…well, finally, I’m here at the door just like you said, "Knock! Knock!"

Dr. Mutulu Shakur, I love you, my nigga. I hope we meet again!
Note

The author regrets the vulgar and degrading language used to depict the characters in this book. Especially those made in reference to Black women; however, he feels that it is a true and accurate account of the plight of Black life in terms of the vernacular and how urban impoverished Black Americans view themselves.
Unfortunately, this book may be viewed as socially incorrect by today’s standards, thus tarnishing the rose colored glasses that most of today’s Black writers write from. The reality is men abuse women, and like it or not, Black America is caught up in the yoke of a severe AIDS epidemic.
How can America be the richest, industrious nation in the world, but yet choose to spend more money incarcerating young Black men than on the entire educational budget? Only by examining ourselves realistically within, will we be able to find a viable solution to help ourselves. Since time immemorial, someone has been determined to destroy us! Humanity.


"…I’m speaking as a victim of this American system. I see America through the eyes of the victim. I don’t see any American dream; I see an American nightmare…"
Malcolm X, April 3, 1964
1

“The Set-up”

1 992
I watched her as she slept. The rise and fall of her brown succulent breasts beckoned me. A beacon of light shined through the worn out curtains, illuminating the pellucid curves of her beautiful body. Nubile femininity captured on the cinematic screen of my mind. Once again I thought about rolling off into her, burying myself in her moist womanhood. The mounds of her sensuous flesh I could molest as from a mental escapism, she could be my sanctuary, at least for that infinite moment in time.
I was 26 years old, not even four months out of the joint and was back to throwing bricks at the chain gang as the old folks used to say–meaning, I was hustling with little regard for the law.
As I lay in bed, in a fleabag hotel room, with a broken air conditioner and no immediate plans for the future, I dreamed as all hustlers do. If I could just hit that one big lick, I would get out of the game.
On the dresser was my best friend–my gun. A big ole .44 Magnum named Jesus. Actually, it wasn’t me that named it Jesus, its victims did when they were forced to look down its long intimidating barrel. Next to it laid eighteen cocaine rocks and about three hundred dollars–my entire life savings–and the keys to Lil Cal’s tricked out Chevy, along with a pack of condoms. Cal was out of town and I was responsible for his ride.
Lying next to me in bed was Kim, a bonafide freak. I reached over and caressed her nipples. She stirred in her sleep lassoing a long leg on top of me. Her elbow came to rest on my morning erection. She crooned groggily.
“You asleep?”
“Naw, I was just lying here thinking.”
“Thinking ‘bout what?”
I felt her fingers walking across my thigh toward my morning glory. It was hot, stuffy and we were nude. The bed sheets stuck to our bodies. Her hand found its destination, stroking me with a determination, trying to rekindle an ember of passion from the night before. The gold bangles on her wrist jangled, signaling in chimes, her urgency. In one quick motion she climbed on top of me positioning herself to take me in. Her sultry breath a whisper against my cheek.
“Want me to serve you?” she flirted–meaning oral sex.
A hot, salivating tongue trailed my chest as she lowered her head. You see, at 30, Kim could do things with her mouth that made men curse God in ecstasy. She had a gorgeous body with generous curves, a small waist and a plump behind. She was light skinned, with a smooth complexion and a slight Bugs Bunny overbite that somehow gave her beauty an alluring sexual appeal.
However, she was the kind of broad that made a brotha appreciate tinted windows, cheap hotels and late night creeps. Kim had one major flaw–she was a powder head. Over the years it looked like the more cocaine she snorted the finer she would get. What made her so interesting to hustlers was the fact that she had a college degree, a good job and she knew how to talk proper like white folks with all them big words. She ran through all the dope boys like water. She had two vacuums that could suck you dry, the one in her mouth, and the other one in her nose. Both were lethal.
So I guess by now you have figured it out, I was in this sleazy ass hotel room tricking with Kim. She was about to gobble me up, her vacuum was on my stomach. There was a knock at the door. I had to wrestle her off of me as I got up, grabbing my gun while putting on my pants. I padded over to the door and looked over my shoulder placing my finger over my lips to quiet Kim. No one was supposed to know I was here. A large cockroach labored across the door as I looked through the peephole. Dre’ and some other dude were standing outside the door. I removed the chair from underneath the doorknob, and then I remembered to put on my shoes and shirt. Placing the gun in the spine of my back, I opened the door. I had not seen Dre’ since I went to the joint, and from the look on his face, he was not happy to see me. He owed me a few grand.
“Wha …What …What’s up L?R