A Hood Legend (4 page)

Dough-Low stood in the door of his pearl black Yukon Denali XL with gold twenty-four-inch rims, counting his money. Standing nearby with their flashy rides were other members of The Big League Car Club. Leaving his two front doors up in the air and sliding the rear doors back, Menage made his entrance as two dark-skinned chicks began eyeing him intensely before he could even get out of his Escalade.

“My nigga, Dough, what up?” Menage said getting out of the ESV. Seeing that Dough-Low was counting money, he asked him who he had robbed.

“Nobody—yet. I beat Li'l Coonk, Jay-Po, and dem in Cee-lo.”

“Yo, man, look at Moet and her crew comin' in,” Menage said leaning on Dough-Low's Denali XL. Both men watched the pussy pink Toyota Tundra double cab pull into the crowded parking lot. Five girls started to strip as Jacki-O's “Nookie” boomed from the system. Menage had his eyes locked on a brown-skinned chick wearing a g-string and a baby tee. Li'l Coonk jumped in the back of the pick-up truck and doused the girls with a bottle of Moet. “Get the one in the baby tee, Coonk,” Menage yelled as the girls started to scream. All the members of the Big League were on the spot now. Pretty Lou was getting mad play, since he had released his second CD a week earlier. Menage was about to holla at him, but seeing a chick sitting in his lap and moving in an odd way in the cramped space of his silver Porsche 911, he let him get his smash on.

“Yo, nigga, let's eat,” Dough-Low said tossing back a bottle of Old English 800 after seeing that the food was ready. His mouth watered as he eyed hot dogs, hamburgers, baked beans, steak, and dessert. There was also a healthy supply of beer and weed and Menage caught a few getting skied up with powder. There was no need for a deejay. June-June's candy green Dodge Magnum, with its ten, fifteen-inch Kenwoods provided the music and Li'l John and the East Side Boys kept the party live. Chicks with big tits and no bras played a game of volleyball, and their running and jumping caused many dicks to swell at the sight of bouncy breasts under halter-tops and baby tees.

“Kamesa ain't comin'?” Menage asked pouring ketchup on his hotdog.

“Nah. She had to take her sister back to Florida A&M,” Dough-Low said after swallowing a piece of steak. “I saw you 'bout to holla at Lou. That fool still trippin' 'cause you fucked one of his groupies?”

“Not really. And he ain't say shit a few weeks ago when he used my crib to shoot his video.”

Dough-Low looked over at Lou, who was now being pulled into the girl's bathroom by a white girl with fake tits. “I don't too much care fo' the cat!” Dough-Low said. “And oh, yeah. Last week, Coonk and me was at the studio gettin' high and shit while Lou was laying a track. Anyway, there was these three blood-ass raw Ethnicity models gettin' smoked out too. Lou tried to feel one of 'em up and she treated that clown like an unplugged Sega.” They began laughing hysterically.

“No play!” they simultaneously shouted.

“Lou ain't about shit, but I'd be a fool to waste my time beefin' with him. I got money to make. By the way, let me tell you what that nigga DJ did,” Menage said. He gave Dough-Low the short version about DJ and the out-of-state DB-7. They were about to go to the grill for seconds when a young girl about sixteen or seventeen walked up and ran her blue nails through Menage's wild-looking afro.

“Let me do your head. I can hook it up with a fly X & O pattern.” She sat on the table with him between her legs, doing just that in an hour flat and left a C-note richer. Revealing that she would be turning eighteen soon, she and Menage exchanged numbers and a few “what I'ma do to yous.”

“I might need to give her a job at my salon,” Menage said as the girl pranced off wearing a smile.

“Yo, I heard Lou's in a gang now,” Dough-Low said with a smirk. “But I wouldn't give a damn if he was in the Cub Scouts! I told Li'l Coonk he was funny actin'. I'm waitin' fo' him to cross me. CD or not, I'll blaze his ass and make him famous like 50!”

“More like Tupac, you mean,” Menage said knowing that Dough-Low didn't usually aim to maim.

“Yo, Kamesa had some chickenhead she wanted you to holla at the other day.” Kamesa was Dough-Low's shorty that stayed in Carol City. “Look, I gotta go hit the block, so holla at me later,” Dough-Low said and hopped into his Denali. Menage stayed a bit longer and kicked it with Li'l Coonk. Everybody was asking him about Lou.
Fuck Lou.

“Well, he 'bout to go to L.A. for a week. He leavin' tonight,” was all Menage kept hearing.

Menage glanced over at the windshield of the Cadillac XLR parked next to his SUV. On the hood sat a tall and slender female, clad in a white skimpy tank top and a pair of red boyshorts. He read the message on the top half of the windshield. It read DNNN. “What does DNNN mean?” he asked standing by the fender of her ride.

She cocked her head to one side and without cracking a smile said, “Don't need no nigga.” She said it good and slow, obviously wanting to make herself clear so she wouldn't have to repeat herself.

“So I guess I can get your number, huh?” he said letting his eyes travel up and down her long, dark, hairless legs. Little did he know that she was Lou's ex. She smacked her full lips and slid a strand of blonde weave behind her ear. She then stood up, her stiletto sandals increasing her height to five foot nine.

“You don't get it, do you?” she said placing her hands on her hips.

Menage could see her nipples pushing against the thin top. “Nah, not yet,” he said smiling. “You might not need a nigga but I know you want one, so what's your name?” She rolled her eyes. Most of the time a brother would call her a bitch and move on, which made no difference to her. Menage was right; she didn't need a man, but she sure as hell wanted one.

“My . . . name is Andrea,” she said blushing. The game was spit and they discovered that they both wanted the same thing—sex. Menage got into his ESV and followed Andrea to the room she had rented at The New Radisson Hotel. Andrea had a body like Eve, and he wondered if that was the reason she wore her clothing line. Once in the lavish hotel room, Menage untied the strings of Andrea's tank top. He immediately began sucking on her breasts and helped her slide out of her boy-shorts. They fell onto the bed as they groped one another and Andrea began to nibble on Menage's neck with her blood-red coated lips, leaving prints all over his body. Menage slipped on his jimmy and Andrea reached for his dick without hesitation. With her back to him, she slowly slid down onto his erection. Menage gripped her tattooed butt cheeks, sliding deeper into her and enjoying every second.

* * *

Menage pulled into his driveway an hour later as the gate closed on its own. Vapor and Vigor came running from the backyard, begging for attention as soon as he stepped out of his truck. Entering his crib, he activated his answering machine by voice command as he made his way to his kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice. Throughout the entire mansion, the female computerized voice spoke in a soft tone: “Good evening, Mr. Legend. The time now is five twenty nine p.m. You have a total of three calls . . . Saturday, four ten p.m.—message one: Menage . . . baby, pick up . . . helloo . . . well, I guess you're not in and you better know who this is . . . nah, just playing. The next call was played as Menage poured himself another glass of orange juice. Menage . . . baby pick up . . . helloo . . . well I guess you're not in and you better know who this is, nah, just playing. Anyway, I just called to say I love you. I'll call later, if I'm not in my dorm . . . just two-way me. Bye, love.” It was Chandra, and he felt guilty because he was out sleeping with a girl he didn't even know while she was doing what she did best—loving him.

The computerized voice spoke again: “Saturday, four twenty p.m.—message two: Boy, this is your mama! I told you about leaving all that loud rap stuff on this machine! Anyway, you need to call your nephew because he's acting up in school again and if you come up here, bring some church clothes. I love you. Call me later.” Menage smiled. Vapor and Vigor shot out the door toward the backyard as a large flamingo landed on the picture-perfect lawn. They'd never catch it. “Saturday, five ten p.m.—message three: Bitch-ass nigga . . . yeah, you can be touched up again, so don't get caught slippin' . . . you marked, nigga! End of messages.”

The last message caused Menage to nearly choke on his drink. He could count the people on one hand that had the number to his crib. He played the message twice more to see if he could recognize the voice. Shit wasn't right. Whoever it was, was now touching too close to home. He wasn't used to feeling paranoid in his own crib, and he thought that maybe it was the weed. He went into his bedroom to a hidden stash spot in his walk-in closet. Vapor and Vigor were now back in the mansion. Facing the Rottweilers, he looked them both in the eye. With a closed fist he hit his chest twice, giving them the silent command to go on guard. Vapor and Vigor wouldn't let anyone on the estate and would attack with or without Menage around and would do so until an additional command was given. Vigor swiftly ran out of the bedroom and went outside, as Vapor took off to check the other three bedrooms and three bathrooms, which he inspected thoroughly, entering each room grinding his teeth. He then came back to his owner and watched his every step. Menage took off the safety of his H & K Mp5 tactical assault rifle and went back into the living room with a full thirty-round clip. A black bulletproof vest now covered the tank top he wore. By voice command, he called up the surveillance channel on his eighty-inch plasma screen TV that showed all surveillance shots simultaneously. Menage gripped the customfitted rubber grip and finally realized how close he came to being six feet deep. And now some fool had his home number. He was supposed to be safe in his own home—not walking around wearing a vest and carrying a loaded Mp5.
Fuck it
. He sure as hell wasn't going to call the police . . . picture that.

Menage studied the screen. Everything looked clear and when Vigor trotted in moments later, he knew that outside was clear. The two dogs rubbed noses, then sat down on either side of Menage. “It's gonna to be a long day, boys.” Both dogs let out a low whine. Menage sat on the couch with his finger on the trigger . . . and waited.

* * *

Tina was now at the MD Beauty Salon headquarters on 175th Street in her office doing paperwork. Finally taking a short break, she looked at her watch. It was five forty. Resting her elbows on the desk, she slowly rubbed her temples. Today had been busy since one of her manicurists had called in sick. Her desk, like her life, was in perfect order; she had a good man, a job, car . . . hell, what else could she possibly want? She picked up the picture of she and Dwight cutting the ribbon at the first Menage Dwight Beauty Salon, better known as MD Beauty Salon.
Why not DT or TD Beauty Salon?
she thought to herself. Her office was fully renovated with a plush, money-green, wall-to-wall carpet. Her name was written in faint gold letters in the center of the rug. In the corner was the sound system that filled the huge, two-story salon with the latest hits. There were over a thousand mirrors as well as a marble onyx floor in the luxurious space. A plasma screen was fitted and flushed into the wall in the waiting area, and upstairs kids under ten could play with the latest video game systems. Menage played a major role in designing this area of the salon.

Tina was about to call Dwight, but a soft knock on her door changed her plans. “Come in, it's open,” she said folding her slender hands on the desk. Cookie, one of the stylists, stuck her head through the door.

“Hey, Tina, we gettin' a little behind. A new client just came in and I think all she needs is a relaxer. Can you do it?”

“Yeah, girl, just set her up for me. Let me tie things up in here and I'll be right out,” Tina said slipping out of her silver, Gucci slingback pumps to switch to her sandals.

“Thanks, girl . . . and can you put on that new Kelly Price CD?”

“Yeah, I was about to take it home with me the other day,” Tina joked.

“I'll have her ready for you, okay?” Cookie said. I just wanna tell you before you leave that I'ma need next weekend off.” Tina made note of it on her desk calendar. She then turned on her answering machine and reached for her jacket. Before stepping out of her office, she checked herself in the mirror. She was flawless as always.

“Hi, my name is Tina. Welcome to MD Beauty Salon,” Tina said as she put on some green latex gloves and tilted the new client's seat back to wash her hair. Benita, right?” Tina said making sure Cookie gave her the correct name.

“Yes,” Benita said with her eyes closed.

“I hope you don't mind me asking, but are you new to this area? And let me know if this water gets too hot.”

“Okay. Yes, I'm new . . . well, I've been here for a few months—ever heard of Kinston, North Carolina?”

“Uh, well, I can't say that I have,” Tina said turning on the water.

“That's no surprise. Kinston is small and you'll ride right through it in no time,” Benita said with her eyes closed as Tina washed her hair. Back and forth they had small talk, and Benita couldn't help but notice the stunning diamond encrusted bracelet on Tina's right wrist. She was still thinking about Menage, and she could have easily found him had she asked Tina what MD stood for. Lisa had already brought home the news that Menage had checked out of the hospital, but it was odd because there was no information left on him—no address or anything.

When Tina turned Benita around to face the mirror, she was stunned by her own work. Benita paid at the desk with her credit card, and as always, she drew instant attention when she stepped outside. Yeah, she liked it, but she ignored the horns and catcalls as she crossed the street to Lisa's cream Acura TSX. Pulling into traffic, her thoughts drifted back to Menage. It wasn't every day that a guy risked and saved a girl's life on a first date. They didn't even get the chance to kiss. She wanted to ask him so many things and there was something she wanted—something she wanted to give, but he had yet to call her. Maybe he'd call or show up at the club. Well, until then, she'd keep an eye open for that stunning, canary yellow, Cadillac Escalade ESV.