End of the Line (3 page)

Buzzy stuck his arm out to stop his two pit bull workers in Nike tracksuits from attempting to physically attack his guest. “Whoa, whoa, y’all, slow down. This is who I wanted y’all to meet; J-motherfucking-Rite in full live color. Not the quiet, laid-back chick Jessica that walked through the door with me, but
her
. This is her
true
self. I’m telling y’all that she is a good fit for the team. Matter of fact, I got something special in store for her that is gonna change the face of our game in the next few weeks to come. Remember, teamwork makes the dream work!”

The two feisty, big-boned women did as demanded, simmering down, as Buzzy stepped up taking control of the increasingly volatile situation he’d seemingly orchestrated. That was the easy part. However, J-Rite was a horse of a different color. The females had pushed her buttons to get a reaction; so now she was posted up to give them one. Fuck Buzzy all of a sudden wanting to intervene. She was hyped up by that time and was not as willing to just let their verbal tirade go unanswered and make shit all good, because it wasn’t. Not in J-Rite’s book anyhow. For some strange reason, Buzzy wanted to see the true beast in her emerge; well, so be it. There was no putting the genie back in the bottle. Not this time; not this late night, early morning. Do-or-die J-Rite didn’t care if she got the brakes beat off her or took one or two or even three of the slugs fired off from the pistols that were now lying on the dining-room table. Foster home raised, strip club bred, and mad at the world for her only bloodline family Hutch having been murdered by the cops, J-Rite was not the pushover they apparently believed her to be. She’d stood silent because she wanted to, not because she had to.

“Look, Buzzy, I don’t know what you was trying to do or prove, but I thought me and you was on some other type of shit tonight. This here is messed up all the way the fuck around!”

Wanting to make things right, he dug his hand in his pocket and pulled out some of the money the mouthy women had just given him. Peeling off a couple of hundred dollars, he asked J-Rite to calm down and just hear him out. Like most females, money talks and bullshit walks. Stuffing the cash in her back pocket, she folded her arms waiting to see what his explanation was going to be. Sending the female who initially opened the door out to his truck, she returned with a bottle of Hennessy so they could all have a drink and get down to business. The floor was his. Buzzy claimed he could, would, and was about to change J-Rite’s life—so now he had to show and prove.

Having had Buzzy take her to get her car from Wild Child, Jessica was caught in the early-morning musical mix blasting on the radio. The sun was up when she pulled up behind Derek’s car parked in her driveway. After what she told her man the night before about she and Buzzy banging, the out-for-self diva was surprised Mike Mike would allow his little brother Derek inside the house, let alone spend the night. She assumed their days of playing video games all night and getting high were over. Yet, here the car was, like it was from time to time . . . up in her driveway.
Dang, my dude soft as hell. It damn showl couldn’t be me!

Shaking her head in disbelief, she stuck her key into the deadbolt lock. Not caring one bit if Mike Mike was still caught in his emotions, she strolled through the front door. Finding him knocked out, stretched across the couch, she could only shrug her shoulders.
I got love for this nigga because he used to have my back when I really needed him to. Now, he just who he is; a true lazy lame waiting for me to get out in the streets and make money. Well, now, he really gonna get his wish.
Her mind replayed Buzzy’s life-changing game plan just laid out for her.

Taking notice of the janky pistol they kept in the house resting on the coffee table, Jessica eased over, snatching it up. It was best for it to be in her possession, just in case Mike Mike was still in his feelings and wanted to act a fool. As she put it in her purse, Mike Mike started to stir. Within a matter of moments, he was awake and sitting up. Watching him raise his hand up to shield small rays of the sun fighting to get through the closed blind, she got ready to hear his mouth. He always liked to call himself going ham on her when she came home at this time, but so what was her general attitude. Jessica didn’t much care what Mike Mike said or thought one way or the other. In her book, the person who made the money made the rules.

“Hey, you up. Where is Derek at? I see his car out there. I know that fool ain’t in our bedroom!”

“Fuck Derek! Fuck him and his damn brother,” he blurted out as he stretched his arms upward.

“So where is he and why—”

“Look, don’t ask me nothing about that backstabbing idiot. Just know it’s fuck him; bottom line!”

Jessica was confused as to why a person’s vehicle would be parked in her driveway when there was apparently nothing but fever coming from Mike Mike for the owner, but whatever. “Look, we can deal with all that fuck your best friend and Buzzy shit later. I’m on something else now. And, yo, I see you done cleaned up that mess you made last night, and that’s good. But we need to kick it because I got an opportunity on the floor, and I’m seriously thinking about it.”

“An opportunity?” he quizzed wanting to check her about what time she’d just come home, but opted not to.
I know with her it’s gonna be some shit a nigga don’t wanna deal with. She keeps my damn head pounding!

Jessica reached in her back pocket giving Mike Mike one of the hundred-dollar bills Buzzy had blessed her with. Tossing him the car keys, she had him go get them some breakfast. Jessica wanted her man to have a full stomach when she broke the news of what she ultimately had in store.

“Fuck that, I don’t do that credit shit. Beside, I see your ass on the block all the time spending them nickels and dimes with my competition. Now you wanna come over here on that broke tip? Hell, naw, I ain’t with that shit,” J-Rite angrily barked at the female begging her for free dope.
Fiends always want something for nothing,
she thought, walking over to her home away from home and sat down on the steps. The building was an old mansion that the new landlords turned into efficiency apartments. Thanks to Buzzy and his plans to change her life forever, she’d given up the pole and relocated. Mike Mike wasn’t at all keen on what she was doing, not to mention the driving force behind it, but he had no choice. He knew since they were younger Jessica had told him he had to lead, follow, or get the fuck out of the way. Opting for the easiest of the three, he helped his childhood sweetheart pack her bags, even dropping her off in Grand Rapids himself at the address Buzzy had provided. Now it was six weeks later, and she was making her mark getting money in the infamous city located two hours away from Detroit.

J-Rite pulled a White Owl out of her pocket and started rolling her last bag of weed.
Damn, I left my lighter in the house.
Just then, an older addict slow strolled out of the front door of the building. With a pep in his step and a wanna-get-lifted gleam in his eyes, he had broken the number one rule of the game a few years back: don’t get high on your own supply. He was an ex-drug-dealer-tragically-turned-junkie. Sean stood six feet tall, with a wiry build and a caramel-brown complexion. He had a shaved face and wore his head bald. With seasoned wrinkles in his face that read
the streets got the best of me,
you could still easily tell he used to have the hoes going crazy in his heyday. He was one of the few customers that Jessica dealt with she actually liked. Maybe it was because he was never trying to get over on her. She figured it was because he’d been in the game himself, so he knew how stressful things were for her and fought the addiction demons not to be all extra in her sight. “Hey, guy, gimme a light,” she nonchalantly glanced over her shoulder.

He dug deep in his pants pocket handing her a green lighter with the top torn off. “Here you go, little bit. Knock yourself out.”

After flicking the borrowed flame maker once, then twice, she got some fire. “Damn, nigga. I almost burnt my face off; turn this thang down.” J-Rite knew it was pointless to say anything; even though she turned it down to blaze, he was going to turn it back up. Sean looked at her, grabbed his lighter, and like most crackheads, walked off like he didn’t have a care in the world. J-Rite took a puff on the blunt.
I gotta get my shit together and make some more money. I can’t stay up here forever.
She figured that if she hustled small she would stay out of the way and not be noticed by the police. But as time slowly dragged by, she missed her old life more and more. Part of her wanted to ask Mike Mike to come and hang out with her but knew that wouldn’t be in her best interest or his. She knew it was best just to keep sending him a few dollars from time to time and let his pill-popping depressed ass be. Jessica knew if she showed him any bit of affection, he’d be back tripping. Whenever she would go by a strip club, it was as if the pole was calling out to her, but since she was slinging for Buzzy full-time, she’d traded in her moneymaking thong-filled “ho bag” for his “dope bag.”

As J-Rite sat on the stairs thinking about what was going on back in Detroit, a midnight-black Durango sitting on 24-inch rims, tinted windows, and music playing loudly swerved up in front of the building. Slamming down on the brakes repeatedly, whoever the driver was attempted to show off, making the SUV rock from side to side.

“Fuck is this,” J-Rite hissed while putting her right hand in her hoodie pocket and grabbing ahold of her. 380. She knew most of the tenants in the building were her customers. And she knew all their vehicles; at least the ones who were fortunate enough to still own one and had not smoked it away. Bracing up, she readied herself to let loose with her peacemaker, if need be. Up until this point, she had been lucky enough to not go toe to toe with anyone else in the area also slanging, but she had a strange feeling all day long her luck was about to run out. Listening to story after story about this drug dealer and the next, she figured this brazen showboating idiot had to be the latest neighborhood dope man she kept hearing about. At the same time, the music slightly lowered, the driver’s window rolled down.

“What up doe, pretty girl?” the driver jubilantly yelled out like they were old friends from around the way.

“Turn that shit all the way down! Fuck wrong with you? Have you lost your damn mind or what?” J-Rite recognized the obnoxious female, taking her hand off her gun. Relieved she didn’t have to use the illegal firearm to send anyone to heaven or hell, she walked down the stairs. The closer she got toward the female Buzzy had working the door back at the trap house he’d taken her to, her stomach started to turn. Even though she’d made peace with her and her girl that fateful night, J-Rite still hated the fact he’d send her ratchet pussy-lurking ass up to check on her or collect money when he couldn’t.

Asia turned the Durango off and hopped out. She was tan skinned and seemed to be a good eight inches or so taller than Jessica. At least 230 pounds, she definitely outweighed the once-petite stripper. Nevertheless, J-Rite was ready to do the same as she had back in Detroit when dealing with Asia: straight hold her own.

“Damn, pretty girl, ease up. I was just having a little fun; mixing a little business and pleasure. You feel me?”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Well, when you cop this? Last time you came up here you was pushing a Caddy,” J-Rite remarked before taking a half-smoked blunt out of her pocket. She handed it to Asia to show her there were no hard feelings for her checking her behavior, but she refused.

“I’m good on all that. A bitch caught a case, and I gotta drop once a damn week now. And, yeah, I got this last week for my birthday. I needed a come up. A little something something to keep them simple-minded hoes dropping them panties.”

“Well, I don’t know about all that, but I ain’t gonna front; this bitch right! You hooked it up; rims, sounds, the whole nine.” The last time they were together they had some words for each other about the ticket being correct, and Buzzy swore she’d never have to deal with her again; yet, here she was.
I wonder what the fuck she doing up here? I hope she ain’t come up here on that bullshit,
J-Rite thought to herself watching Asia like a hawk. “So what made you come up this way? It ain’t time for me to make no move on that tip,” J-Rite finally asked curiously knowing she hadn’t gotten the heads-up directly from Buzzy about this, that, or the third.

“Well, J-Rite, to be honest with you, I ain’t up here about Buzzy’s business. Well, not really. I don’t know if you heard or not, but the feds knocked him a few days back, so we done,” she sadly announced, dropping her head.

“What! Are you fucking serious? The feds! Hell, naw! You lying!” J-Rite’s eyes bucked, and her throat got dry. As her heart raced she immediately became paranoid. Her head twisted from side to side looking around as if the cops were in the bushes waiting to jump out and yell
surprise
, gun and handcuffs in hand.

“Girl, I’m serious as two or three fucking heart attacks. Shit’s all bold back home. The streets is going crazy, scrambling around, praying they don’t get hit next. Detroit hot as fuck!”

“Damn, Asia! I was damn near ready to re-up in a few days. Shit, this is all the way messed up! Damn!”

Asia’s first mind-set was to run game and tell J-Rite that Buzzy had sent her for whatever cash she had to aid in his legal fees. But after picking up for him a few times in the past, the hustler in her whispered into her ear,
Naw, Asia, fuck that short bread. You and this li’l pretty bitch can link up and get some major paper. Fuck the middle man!

“Damn. So, I mean, why you up here? You just wanted to deliver the bad news in person?” She arrogantly looked her up and down the same way she’d done her the night Buzzy had taken her to the trap house.

“Naw, girl, I got a few other irons in the fire I wanted to kick it with you about. You know . . . a way we can both eat.”

Both eat? Bitch, please, I’m already eating!
Suspicious over Asia’s true intentions, Jessica was interrupted by her cell ringing.
Saved by the fucking bell!
Glancing down at the screen, her mood changed. It was her sister-in-law Leesa. Immediately, a smile graced her face. Anytime she’d hear from the female that her deceased brother Hutch considered his better half, she was ecstatic.

“What up, girl?” she gleefully asked putting the phone up to her ear.

“Shit, my baby. I’ve been trying to make a few things happen that would be good for both of us. I bumped into your boy Mike Mike the other day at the weed spot. He told me you had temporarily moved up to Grand Rapids.”

“Yeah, you know I’m up the way here in Gun Ru, doing what I do. Detroit was getting kinda dry for me, and you know his crazy ass is lazy as fuck. So I’m done dancing for now.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, fam, I’m making my ends another way.”

“Right, right,” Leesa signified her li’l homie’s statement. “Mike Mike told me something like that. Well, we need to meet up like ASAP. I gotta holla at you.”

“Okay, sis; so when you wanna hook up?” J-Rite turned her body slightly around trying to get some privacy from Asia who was blatantly ear hustling.

“Can you meet me in Kalamazoo, at the bus station in about two hours? I got some shit in the oven up there. If not then, let me know when a good time is for you.”

“Naw, I’m on point. I can meet you there; no problem. And, yeah, sis, can you grab me some weed too before you come my way?”

“I got you, girl. And thanks for coming to meet up with me.”

“Anything; anytime for you.” J-Rite hung up the phone, then refocused her attention back to her surprise visitor. “Look, Asia, I gotta shoot this move real quick. But you already know my number, so hit me up later if you still in the city. I know whatever it is will keep.”

Not even bothering to wait for Asia to say whether she’d call later, Jessica left the blue jeans sagging, high top sneaker-wearing female standing at the curb. Lost in thought, the suddenly popular-in-demand small-framed boss wondered about what Leesa wanted to talk about. Not totally in the dark, she knew more than likely it was about getting money, because that’s what Leesa was all about; that cheese. She was never legally married to J-Rite’s brother Hutch, but she and Leesa had still become close every chance J-Rite ran away from one of the many foster homes she was forced to live in. It was hurting J-Rite to know that Leesa had lost the love of her life. She and Hutch had met back when they were in the ninth-grade. The two fell head over heels in love and started living together right out of high school. Leesa had schooled J-Rite about boys and everything else she didn’t know or needed to know. Out of all the females she’d encountered over the years, Jessica never had a bond with anyone like the one she had with Leesa. Wild Child and Raven were indeed her road dawgs when it came down to the streets back home, but Leesa was family—streets or not.

Looking forward to seeing a familiar face from Detroit, Jessica headed into her building to at least change her shirt, wash her face, and brush her teeth. She wasn’t out in the streets looking unkempt, but she just wanted to freshen up. Only a few feet from the glass door entryway J-Rite heard a voice from behind call out to her.
I know this thirsty dyke ain’t still on the curb calling my damn name when I told her I was busy.
Hoping it wasn’t Asia being all extra, she turned to see it was another one of her regular customers and drug runners. “Oh, hey. What’s up, Rhonda? What’s good with you? You trying to get on or what?”

Rhonda, in her late forties, was a hard-core smoker and a certified hustler. If no one else in the neighborhood was going to get high, you could best believe she was. She was down for whatever; whenever; especially if it meant a blast. “Yeah, J, I need a fifty right quick for somebody.”

After J-Rite hurriedly served Rhonda, she rushed up to her apartment to get herself together and call for a cab. While waiting, her mind drifted to a terrible dark place, receiving the awful news her brother was dead. Unfortunately, she remembered the tragedy like it was just yesterday.

* * *

It was her fourteenth birthday. Jessica was planted on the couch watching a rerun of
Saved by the Bell,
waiting for Hutch to come back from his boy’s crib. She’d run away from yet another foster home and at this point, didn’t care if she ever went back to the horrid conditions she was forced to live under. All she knew was that by the time this episode was over, her big brother would more than likely be coming through the front door of the house he shared with Leesa bearing gifts. She asked for a few new outfits, a pair of small square diamond stud earrings, and, of course, the new Jordans. She’d suffered and done without so long, even if he returned with just a balloon in hand she’d be thankful. Sure, she’d be disappointed, but thankful just the same that he cared. Their life had not been charmed by far. However, at least they had each other’s back as much as possible, even though Jessica was under the state of Michigan’s jurisdiction. The impressionable teen didn’t particularly like the fact that her only blood was out in the streets, taking penitentiary chances with his freedom, but Hutch was never one to sit by and just let life pass him by. He knew if he, Leesa, and his little sister were going to have any chance at living a decent life, it was up to him. Hutch did whatever he had to do whenever he had to do it; the risk of consequences be damned.

After Jessica’s television show went off, another one of her favorites came on. Then that went off as well. Checking the time of her flip phone, she noticed that it was getting late and still no Hutch showing up and showing off. Selfishly as most were at that age, the orphaned teen prayed he was just held up at the mall ensuring she had everything she desired for her special day. She’d never once had exactly what she wanted on her birthday, so she was excited believing this was that day. Camped out on the couch, Jessica soon fell asleep, dreaming about what life could’ve been if she and her brother were blessed with a mother that was not crazy and had cared enough about them to want to live and make things right.