Booty Call *69 (17 page)

Her girls have her back. They surround me, one to my left and the other one to my right. I know this situation far too well. We used to beat bitches down in Jamaica High School like this, catching them when they went into the bathroom. We called it ‘the web’ because it was impossible for a girl to run or escape. You had to accept your ass whooping. Now, here I am, being put in the same predicament. The pathway to the door is blocked
by the short and stocky girl to my right.

“Stay da fuck away from my fuckin man, bitch!” the chinky-eyed girl shouts.

“Excuse me,” I reply, “I don’t even
know
your fuckin’ man.”

“Yo, Chinky, fuck this bitch up!” the girl on my left yells. She’s tall, with a red scarf wrapped around her head. I shoot her down with a wicked stare.

Chinky, I know the name; it travels around the way. Chinky is supposed to be this ruthless bitch from the Jamaica housing area, AKA Forty Projects. She runs with a ruthless crew. They’re known for slashing bitches with box cutters across their faces, leaving permanent and disfiguring scars. Almost every girl who comes across her fears her, like she’s God almighty! They call her Chinky because of her eyes; they’re small and slanted, like she’s Chinese. And it’s like every niggah is sweating her. But I’ve only just heard about her. I’ve never met her—until now.

“Bitch, do not fuckin play stupid with me,” Chinky shrieks as she reaches into her right pocket.

“Who is your man?” I demand to know now.

“Tyrone!”

“What?”
I can’t believe it
.

“Yo, fuck this bitch up, Chinky,” the tall girl on my left shouts. I’m about gettin’ tired of her ass.

“Dat’s my kids’ father, and I know you fuckin him!” Chinky says, staring at me with ice-cold eyes.

“I didn’t even know Tyrone had any ki—”

“He got two by me, bitch!” she yells.

My first instinct tells me to just throw the first punch and set it off.
Why waste any time? I’m about to become a victim in this club tonight. Both of my homegirls are outside partying, and they have no idea that I’m about to get jumped.

My situation goes from hectic to critical when Chinky pulls out a small box cutter. The tall girl to my left does the same. Here I am, about to get my shit sliced because Tyrone neglected to mention that he has two children by this crazy bitch. I pray for someone to come in the bathroom and help me out. Now is a good time to have Sasha by my side; she can definitely throw down. I clinch my fists and prepare for the worst.

“Fuckin bitch!” I scream out and lunge at Chinky with the quickness, hitting her on the head before she can even attempt to cut me with that box cutter. Both her partners come to her aid, but I manage to knock their weapons out of their hands. Thank God! However, I fall to the floor, and now I’m getting stomped and kicked by all three.

“Fuck dat bitch up! Fuck dat bitch up!” I hear one of them yell. Chinky grabs me by my hair and drags me all across the bathroom floor like I’m some kind of rag doll.

“Get off me, bitch!” I say kicking my legs wildly about.

I manage to kick Chinky in her shin, crippling her for a few seconds, but I can’t get her two girlfriends off of me. I look around for one of the box cutters while I’m getting beat down, and I see that I knocked one under a bathroom stall next to the toilet. I try to reach for it, but the tall bitch is too strong. She yokes me up with some wrestling move.

The short and stocky bitch gives me a serious scratch across the eye. Chinky retrieves one of the box cutters and comes swinging. The tall one holds me from behind. I throw up both my legs and start kicking at her. There’s no way my face is going to be looking like a jigsaw puzzle. I scream
and kick frantically now. The music in the club is so loud; I’m sure no one can hear me screaming for help.

I manage to kick Chinky in her face, striking her across her mouth with the heel of my boot. The tall bitch finally lets me go, seeing Chinky’s mouth coated with blood. Chinky throws both of her hands over her mouth and begins to scream. She’s in some serious pain. But that doesn’t stop the other two from fuckin’ me up on the floor as I lay in the fetal position.

They go buck wild on me. I’ve never hurt so badly in my entire life. These bitches from Forty Projects are stomping, kicking, punching, slapping and even spitting on me. I know for sure that they must have yanked out a handful of my hair. I’m nothing but a helpless bitch. What seems to have gone on for hours has really only lasted for about three minutes. Security finally arrives.

It’s a big scene. It seems like the entire club is in the ladies bathroom. Everyone wants to see what’s going on. The club’s security tries to get everything under control. They try to give Chinky medical aid, but she’s shouting and cursing me out something terrible. “It’s on, bitch! I’m gonna kill dat fuckin’ bitch! I’m gonna kill dat stupid fuckin’ bitch!” she yells, still bleeding from her mouth.

“Whatever, stupid bitch!” I shout in return as security holds me back from attacking her again.

They order everyone out of the bathroom. The crowd parts, making room for our exit. I see Naja. She looks stunned. “I know dat ain’t my girl, Shana! Shana, what happened?!” she says. Then she looks at Chinky and her girls with fire. “I’m gonna fuck you up, bitch!” she shouts at Chinky.

It takes about twenty minutes for everything to return to normal. Unfortunately the club is shut down for the night and the police are called.
Eight squad cars arrive at the scene. EMS workers come for Chinky. They have to fight with her to put her in the ambulance, and I have to ride down to the precinct with those other two bitches who tried to jump me. Naja says she’ll follow me down to the precinct. It looks like she’ll have to drag Latish’s drunken ass along…
I should have just left with Cory when I had the chance
.

It’s around eight in the morning when I finally leave the precinct. I gave the police my version of what happened in the bathroom. They still have those two stink, nasty bitches in custody for assault with those razors.

Naja and LaTish are waiting for me. They look dog-tired, having sat almost all night on those hard, wooden, nasty and dirty benches in the precinct. I give them both a hug. I explain everything to them in the car as Naja drives me home. She’s so fuckin hyped; she’s ready to kill Chinky. I’m really okay, though, except for a few bruises and scratches. But Chinky caught the worst of it. I busted her fuckin’ jaw with the bottom of my boot, knocking two of her teeth out. I let her know that she was fuckin’ with the wrong bitch!

My real beef is with Tyrone. He should have told me that he was fuckin’ with Chinky, and that he fathered two of her children. But Naja says on the way home in the car that the bitch was probably lying about Tyrone. She’s straight up trifling anyway. I know I have to get to the bottom of things. I plan to have a few words with Tyrone as soon as possible. I don’t care if I have to go to his apartment and knock down his front door.

After Naja pulls up to my house, I give her another hug and thank her. She tells me to call her soon. We’re going to handle this situation, even if we have to get a crew together and go to Forty Projects to whip that bitch’s ass.

I go in the house and see that my aunt and moms are already up cooking breakfast. They notice the bruises and scratches on my face and become hysterical, shouting, “Shana, what the fuck happened to you?!”

I tell them about my brawl with Chinky and her crew. They’re ready to start making phone calls and hunt Chinky down. I have to love them for that, but I tell them it’s not necessary.

My moms fixes me a plate of grits and fish. She tries to pamper me the best she can, treating me like I’m still her baby girl.

The next morning, I take a cab over to Tyrone’s apartment in Rochdale. I’ve already tried to call his house number and his cell, but he did-n’t pick up either.

I bang on his door for about five minutes until his roommate, Evay, comes to the door with no shirt on. “Why you come bangin’ on my door so fuckin’ early in da morning like you da police or somethin’?!” he hollers.

“Where’s Tyrone?” I say storming by him, making my way into the apartment.

“He ain’t here.”

“Then where is he?”

“He’s been gone for a week—went out of town to do business with some peeps.”

I don’t believe him. He could be covering up his man’s whereabouts. Tyrone practically tells him what to do. He controls him like he’s a worthless, brainless zombie.

“I’m sayin’, Shana, he bounced some time yesterday, him and this other dude. You know dat niggah don’t really tell me shit.”

“Whatever!”

I go into Tyrone’s bedroom and look around. His bed is still made.
I search his closet and see clothes missing, along with a small duffel bag he always keeps in the corner on the floor. I guess Evay was really telling the truth.

“C’mon, Shana, you know you can’t be in here while he’s away,” he pleads.

“I’m his woman; I can go anywhere I fuckin’ please,” I chide.

He just looks at me, with his sorry ass, standing by the doorway. “Do you know this bitch named Chinky?” I ask him. The expression on his face tells me he knows something.

“Chinky?”

“Yeah, Chinky. You see my fuckin’ face? That bitch tried to jump me in a club the other night.”

“Word!”

“Yes, word. So is Tyrone still fuckin’ with her?”

“Nah, Shana, I don’t know nothin’ about that,” he says, looking down at the floor.

I’m heated. “Dat bitch told me that Tyrone is the father of two of her kids.”

“Word, she told you that?”

“Yeah, I wanna know if it’s true or not.”

“C’mon, Shana, that’s his business. I can’t be telling you his business like that when he ain’t even here.”

“Why not?”

“Ty’s my man. He trusts me.”

I just stand there staring at him, thinking about doing the impossible. Evay knows what’s up with Chinky and Tyrone, but he fears Tyrone so much that he won’t tell me. You cannot live with a man and not know some
details about him. I just want to know something. I go up to him and gently grab a hold of his dick through his dirty sweats. I slowly massage his shit with my hand and softly whisper in his ear. “If you tell me everything I need to know, I’ll suck your little dick right here in this room.” He looks at me and starts grinning as his dick gets hard in my hand. I force a phony and seductive smile, squeezing his dick tighter. He cracks like a walnut.

After he’s done singing like a bird, telling me everything I need to know, he drops his sweats to the floor, exposing himself and waits for his reward. I look down and laugh. His dick is a little bigger than I thought, but I’m still not sucking it. And it nearly turns my stomach, just seeing him naked, with his fat belly hanging over his dick. I’d have to lift up his gut just to get to it. It’s not happening—not in this lifetime. He remains standing there, waiting for my precious lips to touch his shit. I just sigh and walk off, leaving him standing there harder than the man of steel himself.

“Shana, what’s up?” he says chasing me to the outside corridor, pulling up his sweats. He then grabs my shoulder from behind.

“Don’t touch me!” I scream, knocking his hand away.

“I’m sayin’, you ain’t gonna suck my dick?”

“Hell no, muthafucka! What do I look like to your ass?”

“Oh, that’s fucked up, bitch!” he shouts, looking like he wants to knock me the fuck out. But he knows better if he loves and values his life.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a triflin’-ass hoe—stink-ass bitch! You ain’t all dat!” he continues to shout as I wait for the elevator.

I flip him the bird and give him a nasty look. Then to tease him, I stick out my tongue seductively, lick my lips and grab one of my breasts. He’s beyond furious, and he goes back to the apartment and slams the door behind him.

It’s true. Tyrone is the father of two of Chinky’s kids. And come to find out, she’s also two months pregnant by him, which means he’s still messing with her. The way Evay was explaining it, Chinky is his wifey—his main hoe. If that’s the case, then what the fuck am I to him? Evay told me they’ve been together for seven years now. He also told me that Tyrone has another eighteen-month-old boy by some ho out in New Jersey. My ass is so hurt. First Chinky, now this.

When I arrive at my crib, Jakim is waiting out front. We embrace hello. Shit, his boy is playing me out, and he’s in love with me…but I’m in love with his boy. This is like some Jerry Springer shit.

I mean, at first it was just a sexual thing with Tyrone, but then I let my feelings get involved. I should have just kept it sexual. But the dick was too good.

Jakim asks me if I want to go for a ride. I say yes. I need to get out of here, go some fuckin’ where. Anywhere is better than here. We end up at the studio in Flatbush, Brooklyn.

I sit on one of the spinning stools, listening to Jakim rhyme on the mic. He has true talent. He’s with a group called The Queens Magnificent. Me, personally, I think the name is corny.

Listening to Jakim rhyme actually makes me feel good and makes me forget about everything that’s going on with Tyrone. Heck, I even get on the mic, singing and acting like I’m some diva.

After leaving the studio, we go back to his crib in Jamaica, Queens, by Baisley Park. Jakim lives with his father. His mother is a struggling actress and lives in Los Angles. He sees her maybe five or six times a year, including Christmas, Thanksgiving and birthdays. He showed me a picture of her once. She’s beautiful.

We retreat to Jakim’s room, where I fuck the shit outta him. I end up spending the night. The following morning, I tell myself to leave Tyrone alone and focus all of my time and energy on Jakim. Easier said than done.

It’s three days before Thanksgiving. My mother plans to have dinner at our house with family and friends. The last family function we had, two of my uncles got into a fistfight over a woman.