A Gangster's Girl Read Online Free

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    During her ideal life, Carmin had fallen hard for a new artist on the charts. The only problem was that his feelings weren’t mutual. He was involved in a relationship and had no intentions of leaving his girl. But as we all know, the power of the pussy can make a guy do some strange things. He claimed he loved his girl, but at the same time, he just couldn’t stay away from Carmin. When he would go on tour to places like Europe, he would take Carmin along. He kept her laced in the finest fashions and even purchased her a Lexus SUV. Still, he stressed to her that he was not her man. That’s the kind of shit that makes you wonder. You give a man your all—sex, head, and love—and he can’t give you any type of commitment in return. And to beat all, he even had the nerve to be possessive. If he even thought Carmin was letting another nigga hit that, he would snap. However, if she saw him with his girl, Carmin had better not even think about cutting her eyes wrong or there would be problems. It takes a certain kind of chick to play the role as the other woman, and I definitely don’t meet the criteria. I demand a certain amount of attention and to share it with someone else is just not possible.
    Carmin was one of the wildest, coolest, most fun people you could meet. She had a gorgeous body with a waist and hips like Beyoncé Knowles. She didn’t have to put up with being second if she didn’t want to. Not to mention she was voted MVP of the group when it came to giving head. With those qualifications, she could have any man on the entire East Coast.
    Her two-bedroom apartment screamed her name. To most people, it would resemble a Trading Spaces project gone bad, but I thought it was the shit. She had a twist between eclectic and vintage furniture. Against the wall sat an old leather couch. It was a rust color with metal button accents around the arm. On her mantle were blown glass vases in cobalt blue and orange that held huge sunflowers. Her walls were bordered with pages from the latest fashion magazines. And my most favorite decorative piece of all was the portrait of Marilyn Monroe that hung on her living room wall.
    Soon, everyone had arrived and we decided to have a couple of drinks, put on some Li’l Kim, the Queen Bitch, for some girl power, and spark one. The mixture of apple martinis, hydro, and the lyrics of No Time put us in the mindset we needed for the night to come. Tionna, the title holder for doggie style, was the comedian of the group. Our friends could always count on me to come in and form a comical tag team with Tionna. She drove a cute little bubble Camry that we often joked with her about. Not that anything was wrong with it because her shit was paid for, but it was just so funny when the rest of us had such elaborate cars. To understand the car, you must understand Tionna. Born and raised in New York, she never learned how to drive. We had just recently taught her to drive, and the Camry was her first choice for a car. Tionna was also the penny pincher of the group. Now don’t get me wrong, she had just as much loot as any of us, if not more, but the bitch was just so damn cheap.
    After our drinks, we were ready to get dressed. We all put on our best because we knew the world would be watching. For some reason, all eyes of the area were always on us. It was four of us total, so we had to decide which cars to drive. We pretty much knew we could rule out Tionna’s ride, therefore, we decided that Carmin would drive her Lex. We figured we all could roll in that together.
    Once we hit the coliseum, it was on! Niggas were everywhere, and every single one of them was flaunting their jewels, cars, clothes and women. I was impressed with some of the chicks I saw.
    â€œYou have to be careful,” Tionna quickly reminded me, “because if you don’t, you could be fooled by the once-ayear show outfit.”
    She was referring to the girls who