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G Street Chronicles
Copyright 2012 BlaQue
G Street Chronicles
P.O. Box 1822
Jonesboro, GA 30237-1822
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G Street Chronicles, except brief
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This is a work of fiction. It is
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person. All the characters, incidents, and dialogues are the
products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as
real. Any references or similarities to actual events, entities,
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YaSheema, known to the
streets simply as YaYa, sat thinking to herself,
Who said pimpin’ ain’t easy?
Shit, I wasn’t doing half bad for a black
woman living in the mean streets of DC with a growing empire. Sex,
drugs, money and power could all be mine with the roll of the dice.
I was taught good game, and sex appeal was all I ever needed to get
by in this fucked up world!
I was the bomb! I faced the mirror that was
attached to the vanity that stood in the far corner of my lavish
room. I admired myself. I was a dime by anyone’s standards and no
one could tell me I wasn’t either. I stood a proud 5’7” with eyes
the color of the heavens after a storm. Stormy grey is what I liked
to call ‘em. My mocha chocolate skin was the kind bitches would pay
big money for. My ass was phat and my thighs were thick. I got that
fire a nigga could easily fall in love with. I rocked only the
hottest shit money could buy.
My father taught me that I was worth only
the best. That was what made me run my shit flawlessly. I wasn’t
what people would stereotype as a “Boss.” Your everyday average
nigga had no idea I was street royalty. They just looked at me like
I was a stuck up bitch. They probably thought I was tricking with
niggas to buy my diamonds and furs. I am sure they thought I was
fucking to be privileged enough to travel to the exotic places of
Most niggas wouldn’t wanna believe a bitch
like me was on the come up and that I did it on my own. Well, not
all on my own, I did have the wisdom and teachings of the trillest
niggas in the game, my Daddy. He taught me how to make shit happen.
He taught me at all costs to win the game – not just finish the
game – but to come in first place and devour all those who tried to
take me down in the process.
Rock Creek Park
NW Washington, DC
My father told me at an early age that
having good game would get me anywhere. My father was my hero.
There was nothing that my daddy didn’t have; cars, money, women,
and the world could be his for the right price. My father was the
king of his streets. He was all my brother, Neko, and I knew.
My mother, Christa Reynolds, was just one of
the endless one-night affairs my father had to pass the time away.
He never trusted women enough to keep them around longer than a
month or two. He used them and threw them away like tissue. He
tried to dispose of my mother but she wasn’t having it! She held
on, even though Darnell wanted no parts of her except for what she
had between her legs. He used her so good she would do anything to
keep him around, which didn’t exclude tricking and an endless list
of other whorish acts. She had heard all kinds of stories about
Darnell’s infidelities and sexual escapades. There was even talk
about him fucking with Momma’s baby sister; but that didn’t stop my
mother’s money-hungry ass. When she found out she was pregnant with
me she just knew she had hit pay dirt. My father had other plans
Christa was a beautiful woman. She was what
you would call exotic. She stood a proud 5'8”; an olive-toned
beauty with long thick legs and an ass to make a nigga cry. She had
also been born with alluring grey eyes. She had a sharp short hair
cut and would rock the finest shit she could boost from the stores.
Darnell knew she was a gold diggin’ bitch. Daddy really could not
stand her; but the bitch was bad, and she had some killer
Darnell wasn’t bad him damn self. He cleared
an even six feet and was the color of ebony. He had the most
beautiful smile and would make the panties of women drop with one
look. He rarely smiled though, because his jaw was clinched and he
always looked as if he were in deep thought. He was always on the
grind, and money was his first and only love; next to me of
When Christa told him she was pregnant he
thought he would strangle her on the spot. He came close to
drugging her junkie ass and getting rid of the evidence, but he
thought of his baby. He thought of the small piece of him that he
could share his world with. He didn’t care if it was a girl or boy;
as long as his heir was healthy, he wasn’t concerned about the sex
of the child.
“So, what are you going to do about this
Dee?” Christa asked in a confident tone while tapping her foot
against the floor. She figured if she came at him hardcore, he
would have no choice but to accept her.
“What do you mean what am I going to do
about it? Christa, you know what it is. I’ll take care of my
business, which is my child.” He walked out of the room
emotionless, with nothing more to say.
Just like that, Christa Reynolds knew she
wouldn’t have to boost anymore, or fuck any of those disgusting
hustlers to keep up with the lifestyle she was accustomed too. She
immediately went to her rundown project home in SE, DC and packed
her belongings; telling her mother she wasn’t ever coming back.
Well, at least not if she could help it.
Darnell treated her like gold until June 4,
1986; that’s the day I was born. From that day on, my father
pretended my mother didn’t exist. Christa hoped that Darnell would
warm up to her after the birth of their little girl YaSheema.
Instead YaYa, as Darnell liked to call her, was his pride and joy.
She was the one who he adorned in the latest fashions. She was the
one who was shown off to everyone, and Christa was left alone to do
whatever she pleased as long as it didn’t mean bothering
Christa was determined to make him hers
though. She tried to make him want her. She even resorted to
fucking his best friend to make Darnell notice she was even alive.
He hadn’t touched her in God only knew how long, and if he had his
way, he never would again. He knew of her deceit and betrayal. He
knew Christa was a straight rolla’ and she would stop at nothing to
get what she wanted.
After years of being ignored, Christa
started to hate the fact that she had a child. She knew that YaYa
was not the real source behind why she felt the way she felt on the
inside. She realized that the child was just being used as a pawn
to get her out of the way gracefully. Christa didn’t know what to
think of YaYa since the majority of her time was spent chasing
after Darnell, and the other part was spent getting high. Christa
barely even knew she had a child to care for. She would take the
money Darnell gave her and stash it away to get herself a fix. Life
as an addict was all Christa gave a fuck about.
For years, that was the way things went in
my home. I never really noticed the beef between my parents because
my father always took the time to spoil me rotten. He made sure I
didn’t have to want for anything and that included wanting my
mother to act as such. The storm was sure to come. It was only a
matter of time before my mother’s borrowed lifestyle would come to
a screeching halt like “new shoes” on an Escalade truck.
CFE Night Club
“Christa!” Darnell growled, “Get the fuck
down here now!”
Christa had become accustomed to the verbal
abuse. To tune it out she just got high. When he threatened to toss
her out on the streets, she got high. Hell, she got high just
because. She didn’t even need a reason these days; it had turned
from a recreational thing into a serious habit.
“Look bitch, it is time for you to move on!”
Darnell snarled between clenched teeth. He had had enough of her.
He had just got word from one of his men that Christa was out
fucking a rival Kingpin. It was time for her to go! She was causing
too many problems and she just wasn’t worth it anymore.
At the time I witnessed this confrontation,
I was six years old, and my father had done all he could to keep
his family unit together. Actually, my father didn’t give a fuck
about a family unit; all he cared about was me. And that was all
that mattered because Momma acted as though she didn’t want me
“You’re a worthless, money hungry, crack
head whore. Get the fuck out of my house!” Darnell fumed. He was so
angry that you could see the hatred in his eyes for what his baby
mother had become.
“What am I supposed to do? Where the fuck am
I supposed to go?” Christa said between her sobs.
Darnell could no longer keep his composure.
“I don’t give a fuck what you do or where you go, but a car will be
here in two hours to get you and your shit out of my house! I am
thinking you would want to hurry up and get your things packed
because anything you can’t take with you, you won’t be coming back
You could almost see the venom my father was
spitting. At that moment, I knew my father was a force to be
reckoned with. With that, my father grabbed my hand and tried to
lead me away from a scene that was likely to escalate. My mother
grabbed for my other hand and yanked me violently in the other
direction. “If I go, she goes too!” She wept. She knew I was her
only ticket into the sweet life and I resented her for always
trying to use me to get ahead.
“Daddy, I don’t want to go with her.” I
“Oh no, there is no way I am leaving my YaYa
with a junkie bitch like you. And since when did you become a
parent?” Darnell seethed.
My mother couldn’t believe the words that
were piercing her very soul. She released the grip she had on my
wrist and started back up the staircase mumbling under her breath.
Momma wasn’t crazy; she wasn’t going to make too much fuss too
loud. She knew the consequences could have been deadly. That was
the last I saw of my Momma until several years later.
Christa had no idea where she went wrong.
All her life was spent chasing after a man. It didn’t matter which
man, or who he belonged to. Married with children…it didn’t matter
as long as she had something to gain by being with him. Dee was the
only person she ever loved, and he threw her out on the streets.
This is where she tried to pick up the pieces and salvage whatever
she had left. After Dee threw her out she had nowhere to go. She
ended up becoming a prostitute doing whatever she could to stay
high to numb the pain. She hated who she had become, but she was so
wrapped up in the game with a pimp who would rather use her as a
punching bag than put her out on the stroll.
The Meeting Place
and L Street
NW Washington, DC