Just Another Killa: Stress Of The Streets

By Michael Landers III

Released from prison with a strong determination to never return, twenty six year old, Kevin “Killa” James, comes home with a totally different mind set than when he went in. With plenty of time to review his life’s choices, he realizes a life of crime, actually, doesn’t pay.

However, now back on the streets, he finds things tougher than he expected, and with no conscious intention, finds himself slowly slipping back into his old ways.

His old ways, combined with the stress of the streets, his situation quickly worsens, resulting in a catastrophic ending no one could have possibly expected.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Landers III
• Release date: Jun 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463958100

Michael Landers III

Biography Growing up in the inner city of Hamilton, Ohio I learned terrible survival skills at a very young age. It all began at the age of eight years old. That being when my father was hauled off to Federal prison to serve a fourteen years sentence on drug trafficking charges. Behind he left for my mother to care for me and my four other siblings. There is when things went downhill. My mother immediately began to do all she could, but her having five mouths in total to feed is wasn't much she could actually do. With her having a prior drug conviction, she wasn't eligible for any government assistance. Though, the drug conviction was from decades ago, she still was denied any & all assistance. So no matter how much she worked her fingers to bone, it was never enough. Especially with the expensive taste buds my father left behind. My grandmother even did her best to pitch in (R.I.P. Mama) and help. And when I say she did her best, I truly mean that statement. But even with the help from her, it was still a extremely uncomfortable way of living in my household. Soon I began watching and learning. First, hustling legitimately I became an outcast to my age group. Which caused problems. A lot of kids found it awkward for a kid of my age to be out doing consistent odd jobs while they were fooling around on a playground. At first I look over the problems as much as I possibly could. But when they became too unbearable, I found myself sliding into a life of crime. Crimes that fed my family and also gained me a tremendous amount of respect in the street. A sense respect that caused me to spend most of my life in some sort of locked down facility. Out of one, onto the street and then right back into another facility was my pattern. Not giving myself time have an actual life. It was so terrible, doing time seem to not even bother me after a while. I was so blind and always blamed my issues on others. That being until a twelve year prison sentence sat me down. That's when I actually began to evaluate my life and I ended up desperately wanting to change. For, I seen I wasn't only hurting myself but also all those who actually cared about me. I knew in order to change, I had to first figure out who I actually was. So I began reading books that not only helped me discover myself but also gave me sight of the actual life I was caught up in. One book that really struck a nerve was: 'The New Jim Crow' by Michelle Alexander. It was a book that truly woke me up. It changed my entire outlook on where I came from and how I ended up sitting where I now sit to this day: Prison. The book also allowed me to know one could be in handcuffs & shackles mentally just as much as they could be physically in the restraints. The more books I continued to read the wiser I became. Change coming with wisdom, I soon began to change. During my transformation I began looking back at all the good advice and even some of the bad advice I received over the years. One thing that really stood out was advice I received from a lady friend (M&M) of mine. She told me one day- a great while back, when I gain some actual maturity I should right a book. So I sat and tried it and immediately fell in love with it. Now, here I am at the old age of thirty one years old with a passion so strong for writing I have managed to create twelve complete page turning Novels. I guess one can say: one for every year I was forced to live in this madhouse. I'm now only anticipating on the day im released. So I can apply some positive into where I once applied so much negative. It's a lot of youth out there still as lost as I once was and I'm anxious to give them real insight of the troubled life they're actually living. I know with the respect I held and still so hold in the street a few will surely listen to what I have to say. Not only with open ears, but also with open hearts. I also anticipate on generating income from my Novels to create opportunity for them. For seeing is believing and having is achieving. One can give all the advice in the world, but the slightest action is promised more clarification. I just want the young to know when the going gets tough please don't make it tougher on yourself. And hopefully when it's does get tough in some sort of way I could be some help. Sincerely, Michael 'Personalities' Landers lll

Book preview

Just Another Killa:

Stress Of The Streets

BY

Michael Landers III

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the author.

Distributed by:

Smashwords.com

ISBN: 9780463958100

Imprint: Independently published

The characters and dialogues contained here-in are products of the author's imagination, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to an actual person, living or dead, or any establishment, existing, or defunct, is entirely coincidental. The situations herein, although fictional, mirror real life situations. This novel is written for entertainment purposes only, and should not be considered or used as a reference material.

Copyright © 2020 All Rights Reserved.

Printed in the United States Of America

Other Books By Michael

War Zone:

Blinded By The Sight Of Revenge

***

The Truth Behind Lies:

Guilty Until Proven Innocent

***

Just Another Killa

Stress Of The Streets

Introduction

Just Anotha Killa: Stress Of The Streets is a very realistic fiction tale exchanging the word Nigga with Killa.

Throughout the story, it paints pictures of a certain type of black men. Ones who grew up basically fending for themselves, due to some sort of issues at home. Those who found themselves caught up in the system and, eventually, find themselves wanting something different/better, but continually falling short — not just because of their lack of a proper education, due to them wanting a change so late in life, but, also, because of the temptation to return to what they knew best — a life of crime. And, also, due to lack of support from those close to them, and a feeling of worthlessness, etc.

Throughout these pages, you'll develop such a close relationship with the many characters and their experiences, you'll feel you know them, personally. That being, if you know any Killas.

I'm sure everyone knows at least one Killa, if they've ever experienced a poverty stricken environment, or if they're not a Killa themselves.

And if one doesn't know one, this novel will be an eye opener, allowing one to experience what some real Killas go through, daily, and where they eventually end up in the long run.

Statistics show that the majority of them find themselves trapped in the system, forever, while others end up dead at a very young age, and others just give up on life. Very few of them live out their most desired visions.

Having once been a Killa myself, this novel is written out of personal experiences, some real as they happened, while others are only fiction. I’ll leave it to your imagination as to which is which.

I surely hope it brings some sort of insight to someone's life and gives them insight as to what to do, and not do, if they're a real Killa.

Sincerely yours,

Michael Personalities Landers lll

Chapter 1

Stress Free Zone

''You love it when I call ya name… Daddy… Daddy. You love it when I make it rain… Daddy… Daddy. Storm will come… Make me overflow, make me overflow. Can you stand the rain…? When we get done, I still want some more, I still want some more. Can you make it rain…?" The, K. Michelle, tune, blasted out of the club's speakers.

With a seat directly in front of the stage, Killa eyes were glued to the sexy stripper erotically moving to the seductive song. With a few drinks on the table before him and a fist full of singles, he was seriously enjoying his first time in a strip club. His eyes locked on the stripper who fairly resembled the porn star, Cherokee, he swore he had to get better acquainted with the woman.

Being incarcerated since he was eighteen years old and just recently being released after an eight year prison sentence, he hadn't experienced much of what life had to offer. Then with him coming home to a nine year old son, he faced a big responsibility, causing him to come home looking to make an honest living and try the family thing with his child's mother. Both responsibilities, combined with a criminal record, came with serious difficulties of their own and left him with few options. Consequently, he was forced back into a life of crime. But knowing the severity of the consequences that came with that life, he didn't participate as he once had. He did, what he felt to be, very little. His main objective was: to be sure his household was taken care of and he had a little time for himself when needed. To top things off, after months of attempting to do the family thing with a woman who hadn't developed any sense of maturity the entire time he was away, made it more difficult. It was as if she was the same teenage girl he had first impregnated. Which led him to the night out he was now spending at the hole in the wall strip club. He had to relieve some stress before exploding.

Here you go, Sir. Princess handed the charming customer the cold beer he'd ordered.

Thanks gorgeous. Can you also take this for me? Killa asked, holding out his empty bottle.

Sure, I don't see that to be a problem. Is there anything else you need?

Outside of you? Killa asked, with a lustful stare.

Ohooo, so, now you need me, huh? Princess rolled her eyes. The entire night the handsome stranger had been hitting on her. Accustomed to receiving such attention in the place, she never really paid any mind to any of the customers. But it was just something about this one man in particular, that made her feel like a crushing school girl.

I absolutely need you. Killa mocked the woman, rolling his eyes.

Well I can't fulfill that particular order of yours. Princess sucked her teeth at the man thinking he was funny, as she made her way back over to the bar. Sure the man's eyes were locked on her ass, she twisted her hips a bit harder than she naturally would.

Watching the little goddess walk away, Killa bit his bottom lip in admiration. He felt as if the woman was the sexiest female in the club even though she had on all of her clothes. And her personality was one he could see himself chasing after. She had this beautiful, yellow, skin complexion, and long silky hair, that fell down her back, giving him a clear indication she was biracial. Her body was real petite, with just enough ass and breast to fulfill his deepest desire. She was truly a goddess in his eyes.

Shaking his head at the consideration the woman refused to give him, he turned his attention back towards the knock off Cherokee on stage and began to make it rain on her, again.

Finishing up her set on stage, Candy began gathering all of the money thrown at by her thirsty audience and then made her to the locker room. With her having a thousand dollar goal for that night and then estimating her total around half of that, she was anxious to get back out on the floor and sell some lap dances. Locking her money away, she then wiped herself down and changed into a clean set of underclothes. Applying another thin coat of makeup, she then hurried back out onto the floor. Being flagged down the second she stepped out of the locker room, by one of her regular, she gave him a lustful stare, as she made her way over to him.

Hating when Cherokee left the stage, Killa became ecstatic at her reemerging from the back. Feeling he had to have her big lump of ass in his lap, he began searching for a table away from the stage. Spotting one in the far corner, he quickly climbed to his feet and rush over to it. During his entire journey, he kept a close eye on what he strongly desired. Seconds into his new seat, he was approached by some dark skin woman that was a tad bit too thick for him. Respectfully denying her lap dance, he again searched for Cherokee. Spotting her then entertaining yet another customer, he cursed under his breath. Keeping his eyes glued to her, he was determined to have her entertain him next. Spotting her finishing up the lap dance, he shot to his feet and began waving her over. With another customer beating him to her, he again cursed. Only this time, it wasn't under his breath.

Damn… you thirsty! You want another drink? Princess joked.

Her not being able to help herself, she had been watching the man since their last encounter. And she hated to admit it, but she didn't like the idea of him chasing down Candy's nasty butt.

Glancing over his shoulder to see who was stating the obvious, Killa hated to see the same waitress from before standing there.

Naw. And I ain't never been thirsty, He snarled, turning away from the woman.

Boy, I was just joking! You ain't got to get all serious! Princess hissed.

I'm just letting you know, just in case you weren't joking. Killa slouched into his seat.

Studying the man's posture and demeanor, Princess could clearly see he wasn't a regular to such environment. Which caused her to want to know even more about him. You don't do shit like this too often, huh? she asked.

Is it really that obvious? Killa smiled.

Yeah. You just seem too… ya know what, that ain't even any of my business to be speaking on. Can I get you anything else?

Nah, don't do that. Speak on it. Killa turned in his seat, so he could give her his full attention.

Nah… Just know, I don't think you fit in such a place. Now, again, can I get you anything?

Is that a good thing or a bad thing? Killa asked.

In whose eyes are we talking about?

What's your name?

Princess. And yours?

Killa. Now in Princess's eyes, is that a good thing or bad thing?

I'm not answering that.

Why?

Because my opinion doesn't matter. Now, come on boy, I have other customers to wait on. Do you need anything else?

Yeah, I guess I'll take another shot of Remy.

I'll be back with it. And F.Y.I, everything about this place disgust me. Princess walked off.

Growing a smile to Princess's last statement, Killa stared around the place. What he then saw was nothing of what he'd seen before Princess's statement. What he saw when he first entered the place was a hot spot filled with those who possessed some sort of power. But what he now saw after the woman's statement, was a hole in wall juke joint filled with individuals who seemed as if they never been around a pretty piece of pussy. Beginning to feel ashamed he was among the crowd, he felt it was time for him to leave. That being until Cherokee approached his table.

Was you looking for this? Candy asked, doing a full spin.

Fo-sho, I was. Killa's eyes filled with lust.

Well pay up. It's ten dollars a song. Candy tapped the palm of her hand.

Fishing out a twenty dollar bill from his pocket, Killa happily handed it to the woman, just as the song Planes by J. Cole, feat. Jeremiah began playing.

Placing the crisp bill in her G. string, Candy straddled the customer's lap and began grinding to a favorite song of hers. Staring down into the man's eye, she gave him an enticing stare.

Being told at the club's entrance that the club had a no touching policy, Killa rested his hands to his side, though he desperately wanted to grab a hand full of the dancer's ass. Soon falling into a trance, he could only visualize his rod actually being buried inside of her while she grind in his lap.

Returning with the man's drink to find him enjoying the entertainment of the slut he had been gawking at all night, Princess twisted up her face and headed back toward the bar. She didn't know why, but she was seriously disappointed in the stranger. Glancing back at Candy who was looking as if she was actually fucking a man she didn't know from Adam or Eve, she sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. Slut bitch! she mumble under breath.

Sitting, with his pole begging for more than a dance, Killa prayed Cherokee would be with the shit.

Shorty, how much? I swear I can afford it, He said, through grunt and groans.

For what? And you better not say some dumb shit. Candy continued to rotate her hips in the man's lap.

Shorty, you feel my soldier saluting. How much to put him at ease?

Too much! Candy answered, thinking about the four hundred and fifty dollars she was still short of her thousand dollars goal for the night.

What's too much? Killa questioned, happy to know it was a price on her.

Five. Candy continued to grind on the man.

Five what?! Five bands ($5,000)? Killa begun losing his erection. He felt there was just no way he was going to pay that much for a piece of pussy.

Nah, silly. Five hundred. Candy smiled at the man's outlandish assumption.

Oh. That there to is a tad bit expensive. But I can handle it. I want you all night though.

I don't believe you can handle all night. But I'm with it, if you're actually serious? Candy stopped to stare the man square in the eyes.

Yeah, I'm more of an action type of guy. When ya shift over? Killa asked, anxious to bury his throbbing piece of flesh deep in the woman.

Actually, it was over several minutes ago. So we can leave now. Only thing is us dancers aren't allowed to leave with a customer, so you'll have to give me your number and go somewhere near by and wait for my call.

All-ite, bet. Killa thanked the Lord in a silent prayer.

Quickly retrieving something to write with, Candy jotted down the man's number and promised to call him shortly.

Making his way towards the club's exit, Killa accidentally ran smack into Princess, who he could have sworn jumped in his way.

Damn, my fault. He apologized.

You damn right it's yo fault! Watch where the fuck you going next time! Princess snarled.

Damn! What's with you? Killa grew a puzzled stare.

Ain't shit with me! The fuckin question is, what's the fuck is with you?! First you harassing me all night and now here you are purposely bumping into me!

Harassing you?! Yeah, have a good night! Killa pushed past the woman, who he felt had serious mental issues.

I knew you were thirsty! Lame ass Nigga! Princess yelled after the man.

Not hearing what the woman had yelled and not really caring, Killa stepped out into Georgia's humid night air.

Though, he had been living in the state all his life, he never really got accustom to the year round hot weather. He sincerely didn't know what he would do if it wasn't for air conditioning.

Climbing behind the wheel if his '87 Mon'te Carlo, he rushed to turn on the AC. Then, turning on his cell phone, he laughed at how his child's mother had been blowing it up in the little time it had been shut off. Shaking his head, he dropped his car in drive and pulled out of the club's parking lot. Pulling into a service station, a few blocks away from the club, he felt it would be a decent place to wait for Cherokee's call. Plus he needed a couple things out of the place. Seconds after he threw his car in park, his phone began to ring. Seeing it was again his child's mother, he didn't hesitate to ignore the call. He couldn't actually believe she was up at one in the morning chasing him down.

The woman had really begun to get on his last nerves. He swore if it wasn't for his son, he would have cut all ties with her by then.

At the front counter of the service station making his purchase, his phone began sounding off again. Hoping it was Cherokee and not his child's mother, he crossed his fingers as he pulled the phone from his pocket. Seeing it was a number he didn't have stored into his phone, he smiled at him knowing exactly who the caller was.

Yeah? he pocketed his purchased items.

So fuck ass Nigga that's what we on?! Monica yelled into the phone.

Hearing his child's mother voice come over his line, Killa couldn't believe how pressed the woman was. Aye! come on with all of this extra shit! I'm out handling business! He snarled, stepping back out into the night air.

Why is you lying to that girl Kevin? Ms. Tucker asked.

Discovering his child's mother had woke her mother out of bed to call him on three way, he desperately wanted to hang up in the both of their ears.

Mom, I got this! So if you just handling business, why the fuck was yo phone just cut off?! You with a bitch and you think I'm stupid!

Noticing he had an incoming call and he'd be damned if he missed it, Killa had enough of Monica's mouth. Ask yo mama. He joked, ending the call and accepting the one he was sure he had been anticipating. Yeah? he answered, with a lift of his eyebrows.

It's candy. Where you at? Candy climbed behind the wheel of her new series Toyota Camry.

The service station a few blocks up the street. Killa answered, with a giant smile.

Nah, I mean where we at?

Oh, what's up with ya spot?

The same thing that's up with yours! Candy sucked her teeth.

I can feel that. Well then I guess we at a room.

Boy, which one?! Candy began getting frustrated with how weird the man was acting about them hooking up.

Finally receiving the information she needed from the man, she informed him she would meet him there.

Hanging up with the woman, Killa again turned off his phone. He didn't want any interruptions during his night with her. Reaching the only Hotel he ever heard about, he felt he might have bit off a bit more than he could chew when he saw the place had valet parking. Meeting Candy in the lobby, he looked around the place in awe. The place was top notch. Stepping up to the front desk, he prayed the rooms were under his budget. Finding the rooms to be two hundred and fifty dollars a night, he let out a sigh of relief and paid the fee. It was still a bit expensive, but not as expensive as he expected it to be.

Stepping in the large room, Candy admired the man's taste. She hadn't been treated to such luxury in a long time. Far before her man had got jammed up with the law. So it felt nice to be treated to such. I need to take a quick shower. I'll be right back out. She headed towards the bathroom.

Nodding his head to Candy's statement, Killa stood in the middle of the plush room glancing around. Noticing all of the, No Smoking, signs posted all around the room, he turned up his face. He felt he'd be damned if he didn't smoke in the room after all of the money he paid. Taking a seat at one of the few glass tables, he emptied his pockets out on to it. Having a little less than eight hundred dollars in cash on his possession, he wasn't worried about Candy seeing it. Then rolling up some of the only good smoke he preferred to smoke, he stepped out onto the balcony to blaze it up. Inhaling a long drag of the smoke, he fell into a trance staring off into the night. Growing up out in the country, he always found it amazing how the city's light glowed, then staying in Macon, Georgia, he still found himself mesmerized by the city's lightening.

All freshened up, Candy exited the bathroom in one of the room's bathrobes, in search of her new handsome friend. Not spotting him, but all of his valuables sitting out on the table, she moved towards the table. Lifting the knot of cash, her nosy side began counting it. Seeing all of the money she was promised, and some, she grew a devilish grin. Then smelling smoke, she followed the scent of it.

Aye, I could've just robbed you. She joked, fanning the wad of cash he left out.

Shorty, if you robbed me for that little shit, I would be more disappointed in you than I would be mad.

If it really don't mean that much to you, than let me have it all.

Do you need it all?

Need, no. But I could really use it.

Well then, considered it yours. Just be sure you break a sweat satisfying a nigga tonight. Killa exhaled a large cloud of smoke.

I got ya. How about this for starters. Candy pushed Killa up against the balcony's railing and fell down to her knees. Unfastening his designer belt, she yanked down his pants and underwear, all in one snatch. Watching his nine inches of throbbing flesh shoot in the air, she spat on it and begun stroking it. Getting his erection glistening with her saliva, she begun burying it into her wet mouth. Working to shove every inch of him in her mouth, she first delicately sucked and stroked the fat piece of flesh.

Ahh! Mmm… She struggled to control her gag reflexes, as she then managed to get his entire length to rapidly slide down her throat.

Balancing what was left of his burning blunt in between his lips, Killa had to grasp a hold of the balcony's railing to keep from falling.