The Plug Next Door

Prologue

Reese

O h, yesssss! Yesssss, Daddy! Right there, the woman’s yelling pierced through the drywall of my brownstone apartment like a steam locomotive whistle. YOU'RE SOOOO DEEP, YG!

For the last two hours, homegirl had been howling at the top of her lungs like a wolf singing the full moon into existence. The people across the hall had an episode like this at least once a week, and I was just about ready to snap. All women have faked an orgasm at some point in their life, myself included, but this chick was doing the absolute most.

There was no dick in the world that damn good, and I was positive of that much. It was scientifically impossible to enjoy sexual intercourse while perpetrating, and the years I spent studying medicine at Harvard would suggest that I knew a thing or two about anatomy and physiology. That or the MD abbreviation I wore proudly behind my name.

Mmmmmm. Oh, yeah. Fuck this pussy, nigga. There she was again. HEY! Hey! HEYYYYY!

Hey, hey, heyyyyy? Really? I thought to myself.

Snatching the pink sleep mask off my eyes, I abruptly sat up in bed and looked around my dark room. I was exhausted, so I let out a much-needed yawn before leaping to my feet to get dressed. My patience for the little chicken head, who was rudely interrupting my beauty rest, had finally diminished. I hadn't financed a $1,200,000 brownstone on the upper west side of Manhattan to deal with this ghetto madness. If I wanted to be subjected to this type of fuckery, I would've stayed my black ass in Queens.

And what was more? I had a huge fight with my mama earlier when she found out that I never called to check on my little sister like she asked. My attitude was already shitty from that. So yeah, Fat Albert's voiceover was done for the night. The bitch and the nigga that she was putting on for had me fucked up.

Once I shrugged into my pink satin robe, I went into the bathroom to find a scrunchie. Pulling my long Indian curly extensions into a messy ponytail atop my head, I stomped out of my house ready to crack open a can of whip-ass. My neighbors only lived seven steps away, so I was at their door in a flash.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

My hard knocking went ignored, and all of a sudden, the energizer bunnies went deafly quiet. That definitely didn't stop me from banging again.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Can I help you with something, ma? a deep voice belted from behind me.

Depends. Do you live here? I didn’t turn around to face him as I continued knocking.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Hey, I know y’all are in there! Open up this door, I yelled with my fists balled at my sides. Fucking assholes!

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

Yo, shorty, you need to calm all that extra shit down. It’s one o’clock in the mothafuckin’ morning, the nosy fella behind me said.

"First of all, it's doctor, not shorty, and you—" When I turned on my fuchsia slippers to give the meddling man a piece of my mind, I was rendered speechless.

There is a God!

This nigga was so fine that Michelangelo could’ve specially handcrafted his midnight black and lovely ass himself. My eyes scanned him from the top of his freshly twisted dread head, down to the black Gucci loafers on his feet. One thing I knew was my designers, and this brotha had style. He looked rather debonair in the navy slacks and sky blue dress shirt that hugged his chiseled framed in all the right places. Mmmm, I could put those heavenly brown lips of his to good use.

Uhh…umm…well, I stammered over my words.

Lost in his handsomeness, I forgot what I was doing half-naked outside of my home in the first place, but for now, I was attempting to find one unattractive flaw on him. Sadly, I failed miserably in my quest. Even the small cut above his left eye was a beautiful imperfection. Oh, I know! He must be a part of the itty-bitty dick committee.

The man let out a small chuckle when my eyes zeroed in on his dick print to see if he was working with an eggplant or a baby pickle. Twelve, he said.

I lifted a confused brow as I glanced up into his hooded brown eyes. I'm sorry, what?

He reached down to grab a handful of his sack but kept his gaze on me. My dick, ma. It's twelve inches.

Twelve inches? My mouth gapped in an O. Do you really expect me to believe that your penis is the size of a ruler?

I could show you better than I could tell you but we ain't on that type of time. He briefly peered down at the icy Cartier watch on his wrist then back up at me. But about you banging on my door like you’re Five-O or some shit. What’s really good?

If this was his door, I wondered who the hell was in his house getting the life fucked out of them and by whom. Look, I'm a doctor so—

And I'm God, he cut me off. What's your point?

God? He had to be kidding me but judging by the straight-laced expression on his face, he was serious as a heart attack. I had to pause because I had met a lot of arrogant men in my day, but he was by far the only one brash enough to refer to himself as God. If I thought the guy who referred to himself as The Goat the other day at Saks was cocky, I hadn’t seen a damn thing yet. The more I looked at the fella in front of me, the more I realized that he was the exact same man. The Goat and God were the same people. Go figure.

Do you remember me from the parking lot of Saks? I wanted to know.

Of course, I remember you, ma. I don’t get turned down every day. In fact, it’s only happened twice, he said. You also lied and told me you were a nurse, but I ain’t tripping.

Yeah, and you told me that I would fuck with you the next time we ran into each other, but that’s not happening. So, you lied too, which means we’re even.

I most definitely wasn’t lying. He reached up and stroked his goatee. I’mma have you screaming my name before the night is over with.

Humph. I crossed my arms over my chest. One thing this man didn’t possess was humbleness.

But back to you banging on my fuckin’ door, doc. What’s up?

Oh, uh, I've gotta get up early in the morning for work… As I spoke, he licked his lips hungrily while checking out my voluptuous body. It seemed as though he was more interested in the curves that formed up my shapely figure rather than the words coming out of my mouth.

Mmmmm. He hummed, shaking his head. God’s eyes continued to scan my curves. It’s not safe for you to be walking around with all this ass out when it’s nasty niggas like me out here. You gon’ fuck around and get raped.

I scoffed in disbelief. It was astonishing to me that his response had nothing to do with what I was talking to him about. Excuse me?

You heard me. You need to put on some motherfucking clothes.

For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why he was bothered by my attire or lack thereof. I didn’t belong to him. I didn’t know the man from a can of paint.

If I were your nigga, I wouldn’t let you come out the house dressed like this, he continued.

What's it to you? Uncrossing my arms, I rested a hand on my hip. "You act like you've never seen a woman naked before and I've got a nice body, so I have no problem showing it. Furthermore, I’m a grown ass woman and you, good sir, are not my man."

Smirking, he cocked his head and began to close the distance between us. Each time he took a step forward, I took a step back all the way until he had me hemmed against the wall that separated our dwellings. When there was no more room for me to move, he drew nearer, so close that I could smell the Vanilla Crown on his breath. Our meshed bodies had become one, and then, his soft wet lips planted a kiss on my sensitive neck. I trembled with desire and fear while the smell of his Prada cologne further hypnotized me.

You're right, Doc. Yo’ body is nice as fuck, phenomenal even, he whispered, and my eyes rolled to the back of my head as his cool breath grazed my ear. I don't want nobody else to see it outside of me because I'm a special nigga.

A special nigga? I damn near moaned out.

Chuckling, he reiterated, Yeah, a special nigga.

One of his hands slid around to my backside where he possessively groped my plentiful ass. My body deceived me, enjoying every bit of his touch. I instantly became hot and bothered from the contact.

Now… take your big booty ass back in the house and put on some goddamn clothes, he ordered. Then come back out so you can tell me what the problem is. Aight?

Alright, I nodded obediently. Eyes wide shut, my head was swimming with confusion as to how this complete stranger exercised his dominance over me and turned me on at the same time. Something like a pair of shorts will do, right?

Nah, something like sweats and a t-shirt will do, he muttered into my flesh, running his large hands down my thighs. I won't be able to think straight if you come in my house with these thick ass thighs out.

When I opened my eyes, I found him staring at me. So, I’ve got to come inside your house for us to talk?

He met my question with a leisurely shrug as he backed up off me. You ain’t gotta do a damn thing. You’re a grown ass woman, right? At least that’s what you said. Smiling, he turned to walk away and disappeared behind the door of his home.

I stood there, back against the hall wall, speechless. There was something so incredibly captivating about the man next door. For the first time in my life, my feathers had been ruffled by a man, and that spoke volumes because I was one tough bitch. It took a lot for a nigga to get me riled up, and ole dude had somehow managed to do so in under five minutes. I couldn’t believe it.

Once I was back inside my humble abode, I flipped on the living room lights. What kind of hoe does he think I am? There is no way I’m going over his house tonight.

I’m a good girl.

But I was in the mood to be bad, so two hours later, I was standing outside of his door again. Only this time…

Let’s take it back to the day that I first met The Goat…

1

Reese: The Goat Vs The Doctor

W ill that be cash or credit? the polite Caucasian woman quizzed.

Credit, I answered before handing over my card.

The sound of people talking and laughing behind me as if they were having the time of their life made me think about the terrible mood I was in. I stood behind the cash register of Saks Fifth Avenue and watched the sales agent swipe my trusty American Express card. The total for my five pairs of new Red Bottoms was a whopping $12,728 dollars, but running up a check didn’t make me feel better. Unfortunately for me, succumbing to my shopping addiction didn't do the trick today.

It's because I'm black. I just know it is, I mumbled under my breath.

Earlier this morning, I found out that my best friend since college not only got paid $25,000 more than me a year, but she was also being considered for a promotion that I'd been working so hard for. The news shredded my self-confidence into so many pieces that I wasn't sure where to begin trying to mend it.

Hell, I figured I would have to find my mojo again before I even attempted to come back from the devastating hit to my ego. At this point, I was confused about my career and where it was going altogether. All I knew was that I loved being a doctor and being overlooked because of my race hurt.

Telling myself that I was one of the only black women in my field and that I raked in over six figures a year just wasn't going to cut it this time. Though both were very much so true, I was sick and tired of making excuses for being discriminated against in my workplace.

I was more qualified than my best friend, had better patient outcome records, and I worked harder. The problem was, I was a dark-skinned black woman whereas my bestie was white. I'd been cheated at Mount Sinai Hospital so many times that I lost count, but sadly, I wasn't ready to wave the white flag and quit my job.

Thank you so much for shopping with us today, Dr. Vaughn. We hope to see you again soon, the saleswoman said as she handed me my card back.

You definitely will, I told her with a smile before slipping my card back inside my Gucci wallet and grabbing my bags.

It was hot as hell when I stepped out of the store, and my off-black hospital scrubs weren't making it any better. Hitting my key fob to pop the trunk of my pearl colored 2016 Mercedes SLK, I rushed over and stuffed everything inside. I hadn't gotten the door of my car open good when I heard several engines revving loudly behind me. My first mind said to ignore the sound and keep it moving, but curiosity got the best of me.

Ayo, excuse me. Can I take up a minute of your time? His voice was attractive, but not even that prepared me for how fine the chocolate god was when I turned around to look at him.

There were several men lined up on bikes behind him but my eyes diverted to the one who seemed to be the leader of the pack. Who are you talking to? I asked.

I’m talkin’ to the baddest bitch out here, he replied as he scanned the open parking lot briefly then turned his attention back to me. That appears to be you, ma.

Oh.

The bright white smile he wore mesmerized me more than the bumblebee yellow Lamborghini Caramelo motorcycle he sat on. I couldn't see his hair because a helmet sat on top of his head, but I could see his white gold bottom grill. It seemed to sparkle like diamonds every time he opened his mouth. He wore all black. His short sleeve shirt was black, highlighting the defined muscles in his arms, the leather jeans he rocked were black and so were the Balmain boots on his feet. The ink on his neck, arms, and hands was also coal black. He was just black and fine as fuck for no reason.

Reese, you DO NOT have time for a thug. You are a doctor now. I had to remind myself often that I was no longer a hood rat. Old habits die hard, and I was always a sucker for bad boys. And this fine, tatted up stranger on the motorcycle seemed to be as bad as they come.

After checking out his incredibly good looks for a while, I figured I should say something else. So, umm...what is it that you need sir?

He chuckled at my overly polite mannerisms but played it cool just the same. What's your name, beautiful?

I was already in a piss-poor mood, so my response reflected that as did my dry tone. None of your damn business, I said, making his entourage laugh.

The man frowned as though he was completely taken aback then turned to look at the giggling fellas behind him. He didn’t even have to utter a single word before they all stopped laughing immediately. They acted like he was their alpha and omega or something. It was so damn sexy watching a man exercise his control over other people.

His eyes locked with mine again. Now, back to our conversation, shorty. You don't know who I am, do you?

As a matter of fact, I don't, I replied, rolling my neck with all of the ghetto girl attitude that I could muster up. But, why don't you save both of us some time and hold your name. I'm pretty sure that I'm more likely to recognize you by what you do rather than who you are.

I'm The Goat.

Stumped, I jerked my head back. As in the animal?

As in the greatest of all time, he said, smirking.

Wow, that’s a new one, I retorted, clapping my hands at his egotistical response. I suppose it's a good thing that I don't do cocky men OR men who compare themselves to animals.

An unbothered smirk took over his face as he adjusted the helmet on his head. You’re way too goddamn fine to be so mean.

Blushing at his compliment, I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. I'm not mean. I simply don't know you, and I have no desire to get to know you.

He ran his tongue across the surface of his bottom lip while looking me up and down. See here's the problem with that... his words trailed off.

I’m listening.

You should always know the nigga who runs your city, ma. Otherwise, you won't know what the fuck is going on, and if you don't know what the fuck is going on, then that must mean you’re sleep. The only thing that comes to a sleeping motherfucker is dreams. You feel me?

That much was true, I probably should've known him. Hell, everyone in the city had to be well aware of a nigga like this one. The man looked important. Like, knowing him was a must. But even if I didn't know who he was, I knew when I was in the presence of a boss, and he was undoubtedly a boss.

I was a doctor now, but I was born and raised in South Jamaica Queens, so I could spot a baller from a mile away. Everything about this nigga screamed hood rich—from his half a million-dollar motorcycle that wasn't even on the market yet, to the icy link chain dangling around his neck. Not to mention how he had a heap of men following behind him like he was The Leader of the Disciples. I bet he had plenty of women falling at his feet just dying to be chosen.

Well, I guess you can call me Sleeping Beauty because nothing about you rings any bells, I said upon returning to our conversation. "Anyway, Mr. Hood Rich, can you and your peanut gallery move from behind my car? This conversation isn't all that interesting, and I really need to get back to work."

Mr. Hood Rich? he asked disbelievingly.

That’s what I said.

You’re funny as fuck, woman. You really missed your calling in life because you would’ve made for one helluva stand-up comedian. What are you anyway… a nurse or some shit?

More like a doctor.

I rolled my eyes with annoyance but decided against setting the record straight because I honestly didn’t have the time. Yeah, sure. Can y’all move now?

I can make that happen.

My eyes narrowed with frustration when I saw that they weren’t moving. Uhh, okayyyy. Why— I started before being cut off.

You'll see me again soon, beautiful. Real soon. With those final words, he pulled his helmet back down and sped off with his followers behind him.

I watched them all disappear down the parking lot with a smile on my face that I couldn't help. I loved being hit on, but why he thought we'd cross paths again was beyond me. He appeared to be a thug, and I was a well-respected doctor so what would be the chances of us running into each other again?

2

God: Mr. Hoodrich

Every time I thought about how the woman in the parking lot of the mall dissed me, I couldn’t help but laugh. It was obvious that shorty didn’t know who I was because if she did, our conversation would’ve gone in a totally different direction. She was a mean ass something, but I bet there was nothing but sweetness wrapped inside of all that sexy chocolate.

It wasn’t often that I went chasing after women. Hell, the nurse broad was the second woman I had ever tried to holla at, but she was worth it. I wanted that fine black ass woman so bad. She was shaped up like an hourglass with a nice rack of titties and a fat ass to go with it. Her smooth cocoa face was stunning, and her pretty white smile was one that I would never forget

Can’t believe she called me Mr. Hood Rich, I chuckled to myself.

The first word that probably comes to mind when you think of a dope man is rich and all things considered, a lot of them motherfuckers are rich… hood rich that is. They got a lot of money and don’t mind blowing it, especially in the fleeting business of crack-cocaine. Niggas from where I’m from dive head first into the game with dollar signs in their eyes. They make a couple of coins, snag a bad bitch, a nice crib with a foreign whip parked out front, and think they’ve made it in life.

That simple-minded mentality is what separated me from most hustlers. I’d acquired so much money on the streets during my reign that it was impossible for me to ever go broke, and I mean that literally. I had generational wealth. My money made money for me, and since The Lord blessed a nigga with endless wealth, I often felt the strong urge to give back to my community.

Fifty-seven…fifty-eight…fifty-nine…sixty… I did a head count as my brother, Young, aka YG, passed out food trays beside me. Looking over at him, I shook my head with pity. Yo, it looks like we gon’ have a full house tonight, bruh. This shit is about to be crazy.

Word, he replied.

My attention was placed back on the front door. Whenever it was a real hot summer day in New York, the lineup at The Promise House started early. People fanned themselves as they walked through the homeless shelter doors with their faces beet red and lips dry from dehydration. The blazing heat from outside whisked into the air-conditioned space with them.

If I could save them all from poverty I would, but this was reality, and I was only one man. All I could do was my civic part in this fucked up society, and that started here at the homeless shelter that I opened a few years back. It wasn’t much, but something was better than nothing at all.

Ayo, God! Young yelled, getting my attention. You gotta lock up the doors, dawg. We’re already past the capacity limit.

I can’t do that, man. It’s shorties out here still, I reasoned while looking into the hungry eyes of starving children.

Yeah, but you can’t save ‘em all, big bro.

Fuck, I cursed myself as I continued glancing outside the door. There were at least a hundred more people left that needed a place to sleep and a hot meal for the night. Turning the needy around was the part that I hated most about this business. Leaving mothers, children, and senior citizens to find someplace else to go always ate me up inside.

For three years, I’ve owned The Promise House, and the fucked up feeling of shutting the door in a