I have been writing a lot lately but am a little behind my targets.
The book will be open for advance orders at the end of April 08, and is now scheduled for official release in July 08. Again, I love writing this story and I am going to miss it when it’s done. Here is a new excerpt (below). Timbo is getting himself into a lot of shit in this book:
This girl, Cheryl, looked like she had grown up in a well-off family. She went to UPenn, a school in the area, an Ivy league school at that. She had smooth brown skin, long luscious dark hair, her makeup was always flawless, and her nails were never undone. She was the type of girl that got everything she wanted—a black american princess for sure—and right now she wanted to go out with him. He was almost giddy at the thought. What would a girl like that want with him? He was eager to find out—maybe a little too eager.
Timbo had never dated anything but chickens and gutter trash. He had finally kicked his crackhead baby’s mother Yolanda out on the street a few months before, after she sold his $2,000 flat screen television to somebody for $80 and two hits.
This would be the first time he got the chance to date a girl with some sense and a decent upbringing. Cheryl might be his way out, the same as his best boy Rich had found with Jacy.
But here he was, $100 in his pocket and a high maintenance college chick waiting for him to buy her some drinks. She was bound to be one of those girls that drank apple martinis and grand marniers.
Timbo felt like people were playing him on the streets, now that Rich was no longer his running buddy. Rich had been his backup, his enforcer. Nobody played with Timbo’s money in the past because they knew Rich would be somewhere in the picture soon. It wasn’t just about muscle—people respected Rich and didn’t want to disappoint him.
As soon as Rich left the game, Timbo’s consignments started getting paid later and later, the young boys were treating him with disrespect and doing a good job of dodging him, and people were even having the nerve to ask for a better rate. Now, Timbo had so many people owing him money that he had lost track. He felt that he was going to have to do something drastic soon to send a message out on the streets that he wasn’t playing; something like popping somebody. But he didn’t feel like he had a good backing; the four or five dudes that he ran with on a regular basis didn’t have the balls or heart to deal with what he had planned.
Timbo had never had less than a G in his pocket at any given time. Most people would think $100 was plenty for a date, but Timbo liked to have enough to really ball. He was trying to impress this girl and throw some money around—how was he going to do that with less than a bean? His ‘wack’ was light like a mug! He was used to pulling out a tight wad of money on a first date—that was how real Philly ballers did it. He considered calling Cheryl up and making an excuse about having some business to handle. Then he could take her out at a time he had more cash.
But then Timbo thought of how her brown legs had looked in those tan khaki short shorts, with the high-heeled wooden sandals the first time he saw her walking down Walnut. She was fine as shit. That same girl was sitting in the bar waiting on him—there was no way he was letting that possibly slip through his fingers. Then he remembered that she was a college girl sitting alone in a bar full of sharks, and quickly pulled the lever on his car door.
With a vision of her legs planted firmly in his mind, he stepped out of the car with a smile on his lips. He was just going to have to make do money-wise.
Timbo took a moment to check himself in his car window. He had on a clean monogrammed black tee and a diamond “T” chain he bought down on Jeweler’s Row. He even shaved his normally rough beard down to something presentable. He didn’t look too shabby.
“Here we go,” he said after doing a tooth check. Timbo might not have been the best looking brother in West Philly, but one thing he prided himself on was good dental hygiene. He brushed his teeth about five times a day—in the morning, after every meal, and before he went to bed. It was an obsession for him that had paid off. He was going to let his pearly whites do most of the talking tonight.
He burrowed his eyebrows and strolled up to the front door of the sports bar. When he walked inside he looked around, trying not to seem eager. He didn’t see her yet.
“I thought she said she was already here,” he mumbled to himself as he sat down at the bar and pulled out his cellphone to check the text message again. Just as he was pressing some buttons he looked out of the corner of his eye and saw her coming out of the bathroom. His jaw nearly dropped to the floor.
She was wearing a simple white long sleeved shirt that was snug and showed off her round C cup breasts along with a pair of hip hugging jeans. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a curly style. He let his eyes travel down to the floor where he saw her perfectly pedicured toes peaking out of her Jimmy Choo open toed sandals.
“Hi,” she said as she slid onto the bar stool next to him, a radiant smile on her face. Her eyes were slightly slitted as if she had just been smoking some good weed. Timbo was extremely turned on at the thought that she might be down with a session.
“Sup,” he said with a cute smirk as he looked her up and down. It was a struggle to remove his vision from the sliver of skin visible on her back between her shirt and jeans when the bartender came over to take his order.
“Umm, let me get a Heiny,” he said and then turned back to Cheryl. “What you want baby?”
“I want another double shot of 3 Olives and cranberry,” she said directly to the bartender in a smooth velvety voice that made Timbo’s manhood stand at attention. She had a slight accent that he couldn’t make out just yet. He scooted his chair up closer to the bar. He wasn’t sure how to act around this girl; he didn’t want to come off as too ghetto and scare her away.
“You was waiting long?” he asked, trying to play off the fact that he was very impressed. He didn’t even need to look around—he knew every brother in that bar’s eyes were on them. A jealous thought flashed through his mind—what if he had left her alone in the bar too long? His mind swam with the possibility of her talking to some other dude in the bar before he arrived.
“Uhh, a little. But that’s alright I guess,” she said blankly as she took her drink and started sipping. Her smile had disappeared. Timbo started to worry that she wasn’t having a good time. He would have to turn on the charm somehow. Timbo had been shot at, stabbed, and gotten into so many fights that he lost count, but never had his heart beat so fast. There was so much at stake on this date. He had to have this woman.
“Aww fuck it. I ain’t even gonna try to play it off no more,” Timbo said as he turned and grabbed her stool to pull her close and straddle her. He pulled at his hat, a nervous habit of his. “You fine as shit. Damn slimmy. I ain’t even gonna lie.”
Cheryl finally giggled and Timbo was relieved to see that smile return. “You’re cute,” she said.
“Aw, that’s all? Just cute?” Timbo flashed a smile at her. “I put my best shit on for you girl. Damn. You got some pretty brown eyes.”
“Thank you,” Cheryl giggled again. She was loving the attention. She was the type of girl who needed to be complimented regularly. And she needed a man that could really take control. That’s what attracted her to Timbo in the first place—the fact that he came right up to her and asked for her number. It was something about his gangster swagger that turned her on and had her daydreaming the rest of the day they met about being alone with him.
“You don’t talk much do ya? You shy?” Timbo observed.
“Not really,” she said with a smile. But Timbo didn’t know which question she was answering.
“So what you doing out here in the ‘hood with me?” Timbo moved in closer to her to get a deeper whiff of her perfume. Now Cheryl’s heart was beating faster.
“Why, should I be concerned?” Cheryl asked with a smirk.
Timbo chuckled. “Naw, you ain’t got nothing to worry about babe. Not when you with me. Where you from?”
“Missouri.”
Timbo soon realized that Cheryl really was a woman of very little words, and quickly adjusted. That was fine with him. For all he cared, she could be completely silent and just look good all day. Now he knew where that accent was from.
His chest puffed out a little when he saw the level of attention and respect he was getting at the bar just by being seen with a woman of her caliber. Dudes he hadn’t said two words to for weeks were coming up to him to say “what’s up” and give him a pound. Timbo knew the only reason why they were doing that was to get a closer look at the new eye candy at the bar.
By the time Timbo and Cheryl left the bar they were both toasted. Just as Timbo thought, Cheryl’s drinks were expensive, but she only needed like three expensive drinks and a couple of beers to get tossed, so he was good. Her tongue loosened up a little more with each drink.
“Where do you live?” Cheryl asked him when they were both outside. Timbo was grasping onto her hand as if she could fly away at any moment. When he heard her question he had an adrenaline rush. He was definitely going to get some that night.
“Not far from here, like three blocks,” he turned to her and looked in her eyes.
“I want to come over,” she slurred, but was serious as a heart attack. “Can I just follow you?”
“Yea, yea. Hold up a sec though,” Timbo said as he spotted somebody he had been seeking out for weeks down the block. “Go in your car and lock ya door. I’ll be right back.”
Cheryl did as she was told, but not before glancing down the block in the direction where Timbo went. She locked her door and watched him in her rear view mirror. She involuntarily held onto her heart.
Timbo crept up in the darkness on Jimmy and Tools, who were standing around on the corner smoking a blunt. They were so high that they didn’t even realize who Timbo was at first.
“Aw, shit,” Tools mumbled to himself when he recognized the face. “Damn, you got any cash on you ock? You know I’ll get you back.”
“Whateva nigga, that’s yo problem,” Jimmy said in a low tone that matched Tools’, happy that for once it wasn’t him that owed somebody.
“Tools. What up nigga,” Timbo said with no smile. This was one of those times that he would have to put his foot down. Tools owed him over $500 at that point. Timbo glanced across the street and saw some other dudes who looked familiar watching his every move. Timbo offered out his hand to Tools to shake.
Tools took it and gave Timbo a hard manshake and chest bump. Tools’ mind was going a mile a minute.
“You know I been on ya tail Tools, so what the deal? You just gon’ dodge a nigga like dat? After all I did for you. That ain’t even right,” Timbo shook his head and now was grasping onto his gun like a cowboy.
“Naw, it ain’t even like that Tim, I was gonna yell at you,” Tools started shucking and jiving. “I just needed a lil more time, yah mean?”
Timbo turned his nose up at Tools, never taking his eyes off of him. “Now nigga, you know I ain’t even trynna hear all that noise. It’s been damn near three months! I want my got damn money. Ya’ll niggas trynna treat me like some kind of sucka cuz Rich ain’t here? That nigga will be here if I need ‘im. You gonna catch one regardless if he here or not, if you keep fuckin’ with my cash.”
Tools sucked his teeth and shuffled his feet nervously. “Aww, come on Timbo. I just need a couple weeks, three tops! Gimme that?”
Timbo licked his front teeth and glanced around him carefully. Jimmy started backing away from the scene because he could feel that this wasn’t going to end right. Tools got ready to take off himself. Just as Timbo pulled his gun out from his waist, Tools took off running across the street.
“Come back here, sorry ass muthafucka!” Timbo shouted. But Tools didn’t get very far.
Pop! Pop!
