Kingpin Wifeys Season 2 Part 3 Going Hard

By K Elliott

Loyalties are tested and relationships are betrayed in Going Hard as the drama continues. TeTe questions where her relationship with Black is going. Will Shamari being in jail result in Jada being caught in the crossfire between Black and Shakur? And will Starr and Q’s relationship last after the latest test face?

• Language: English
• Publisher: K Elliott
• Release date: Jun 29, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463121276

K Elliott

K. Elliott, aka The Well Fed Black Writer, penned his first novel, Entangled, in 2003. Although he was offered multiple signing deals, Elliott decided to found his own publishing company, Urban Lifestyle Press.Bookstore by bookstore, street vendor by street vendor, Elliott took to the road selling his story. He did not go unnoticed, selling 50,000 units in his first year and earning a spot on the Essence Magazine Bestsellers list.Since Entangled, Elliott has published five titles of his own and two more on behalf of authors signed to Urban Lifestyle Press. For one book, The Ski Mask Way, Elliott was selected to co-author with hip-hop superstar 50 Cent. Along the way, he has continued to look for innovative ways to push his books to his fans while keeping down his overhead. Not wanting to keep such valuable experience to himself, Elliott did two things.First, in 2010 he forged his vision of low-cost publishing by in 21 Black Street, an eBookstore to mirror a traditional African-American themed bookstore - except it could totally cuts out a publisher's printing costs.Second, Elliott created the Well-Fed Black Writer, a blog for authors to find life-hacking tips for more efficient, effective self-publishing. The Well-Fed Black Writer includes podcasts, video and blog posts, all to help aspiring authors turn their manuscripts into publishing success stories.

Book preview

Chapter 1

"W hat's in your hand?" Starr asked.

Q held onto the locket. A locket. He exposed the locket in the palm of his hand.

Starr reached for it, wanting to take a closer look, but Q held onto it for a while before finally releasing it.

Starr smiled and said, A baby.

Yeah, that's Rico's daughter, Ivy, as a newborn.

She's beautiful.

She's a woman now.

Why do you have it?

I'm her godfather.

Did something happen to Rico? She passed back the locket.

No. Why do you ask?

I don't know. You were in a kind of reflective state.

There were so many thoughts racing through Q's head. He was anxious, but he had to stay cool in front of Starr. There were lots of questions that needed to be answered. What would he do with Rico's head? Did Rico suffer before dying? How in the fuck would he tell Rico's family and what was he going to do about it? The cartel had literally beheaded his friend.

How did you get it?

He gave it to me a while ago.

The FedEx box sat on a wooden chair in the corner of the room. Starr inched toward the box and scooped it up, but before she could sit down, Q snatched the box away.

What's in the box? She eyed him suspiciously.

Nothing. Valuables.

Breakable?

No.

You didn't have to snatch it. I would've given it to you.

Look. I'm sorry.

What is it?

Art my friend brought me back from South Africa.

Do you mind if I take a look? I might get some ideas for by business.

Not right, now. Let's get dressed and go to breakfast.

It's only going to take a minute.

He smiled and said, Look, I don't want you to see what's in the box because it's a surprise that I have for you. I'm working on something and I'll show it to you later.

She smiled and said, It better not be expensive. I don't want you to try to buy my affection, Quentin.

I thought I had your affection.

You do, but you know what I mean.

Q held the door and she sprang from the desk. They showered, got dressed and headed to Gladys Knight's for chicken and waffles.

Chapter 2

Todd left Mike's wife and son locked in a walk-in closet. He drove to Dunwoody, and helped Dank load the three bodies into the car, and then they drove them to South Carolina where they disposed of them in Lake Hartwell right at the Georgia/ South Carolina line.

The next day, at TeTe's orders, Todd and Dank began looking for Shakur. They purchased a membership to L.A. Fitness, the club where Shakur was also a member. They could have waited in the parking lot, but they didn't want security to get suspicious. They worked out twice the first day waiting on Shakur to arrive, but he never showed. Nor did he show up the next day.

On the third day, they watched as he came into the club dressed in Under Armor tights. They watched him workout from across the room as he flexed his biceps and took selfies in the full-length mirror. One thing for sure, he was in love with himself.

They laughed at his silly ass as he did set after set of grueling exercises. Barbell curls, bench presses, squat lunges and swimming. Then he showered and made a beeline to the Yoga Studio around the corner.

This nigga is a workout fanatic. Dank said.

They stayed on Shakur and waited as he did his Downward Dogs and Sun Salutations. An hour later, Shakur emerged drenched from the hot yoga class. He jumped into his silver Maserati and exited the parking lot.

Todd pulled alongside him and Dank fired eighteen bullets into the side of Shakur's car. Three bullets ripped into his chest and one bullet blasted the side of his head. Shakur crashed into the side of a 7/11 store.

When the store manager realized what had happened, he struggled to open the door of Shakur's car. Once he had it open, the manager hopped into the car and slammed it into park, then he dragged Shakur out the car. Shakur had lost a lot of blood but his eyes were open and he was still breathing. The manager ordered him to breathe and breathe. Shakur tried but the side of his head was severally damage and his brains were spilling out.

A store worker said, It's over, man. His hair is on fire.

Shakur's dreads were sizzling and seconds later he took his last breath in the store manager's arms. His silver Under Armor shirt now a maroon color.

Todd and Dank exited on Interstate 85 and were heading toward the house in Dunwoody.

Todd said, You think we got him?

I got him. He's dead by now.

You're confident.

Nobody survives a bullet to the head.

All that goddamned exercise didn't do his strong ass no good in the end. All that lifting and walking around the gym in tight-ass spandex swimming and shit. Flexing with his shirt off and taking selfies.

Doing yoga and shit. Gay-ass yoga.

They were laughing their asses off at Shakur, knowing that when they reported back to TeTe, she was certainly going to be happy with them. They would be paid well.

Chapter 3

Black had purchased himself a burner phone from Wal-Mart. He was feeling pretty good that TeTe had taken revenge against some of his enemies, but he had to admit to himself that he was a little afraid of her. She was very calculating and manipulative. He knew that she liked him but wondered what would happen if he crossed her. He'd seen a side of her that he was frightened of, but nevertheless, he was glad that she had murdered his adversaries.

He had business to take care of and there was no way that he would be able to take care of his business and watch his back at the same time. He had a new connect. A good connect was the one thing that he'd never had. Black drove to Hopkins and Adair in South East Atlanta to see a guy named Melvin Beatty, nicknamed Popcorn.

Hopkins and Adair were two intersecting streets in Atlanta and in one of the worst hoods in the United States. It even came with crime statistics to back this assertion up. In other words, you didn't want to be there if you didn't have any business there. You would absolutely get your cranium cracked, but Black knew it well. He used to go with his dad to do business back in the nineties.

Today, he had to catch up with his friend, Popcorn. Black used to do a lot of business with him before he and Shamari delved into the world of heroin. Popcorn was a mid-level dealer that wanted everybody to think he was big time. He owned seven cars and all of them white. They surrounded a tiny little shack that he rented in the middle of the hood, situated between two boarded up houses. Black parked in front of Popcorn's house and spotted Popcorn's nephew, J.J., bouncing a basketball doing freakish, wicked crossovers.

J.J. was six foot six and seventeen years old. He sported a goatee and looked at least twenty-five. Damn near every college in the country was recruiting him to play for them. He was a sure shot for the NBA if he could stay out of trouble and stop smoking weed. Two things that he had not been able to do thus far.

J.J's father was in prison for shooting a man in the back and paralyzing him from the waist down. Popcorn's sister, Michelle, gave him the task of making sure J.J. stayed out of trouble and attended school until he left for college. Uncle Popcorn was an ex-con as well as a crack and Molly dealer with three baby mamas—-a really great role model for the kid.

J.J. wore black and gray Jordan's, True Religions with a Hermes belt that one of the rich white girls at the school had bought him. He clearly wasn't using it since his pants were sagging so low his whole ass was on display.

He approached the car, the sun directly in his eyes. J.J. squinted as he tried to get a clear look at Black.

Go get Corn for me. Tell him it's Black, Black said.

J.J. and Black had never formally met but J.J. did recognize Black. He'd surely seen him before. Dropping the ball, J.J. sprinted up the stairs that led to the dilapidated shack.

Moments later, Popcorn marched outside wearing house slippers and white, oversized thermal underwear. Popcorn's skin was the color of butter. The guy had bad skin from drinking too much and had very unkempt cornrows. He was slim with a ballooned stomach.

Black lowered his window and said, Corn, it's Black.

Oh, I didn't know who the fuck you was.

I told J.J. to tell you it was Black.