Eviction Notice (15 page)

“That’ll work, we about to make moves back to the projects,” Sahara told him. “You ready, Frankie?”

“Nah, you go ahead, Sahara. I got something I need to do right quick and I’ll meet you back at the crib,” Frankie told her and started out up the street.

“Frankie, where the hell are you going?” Sahara called after her.

“I gotta go see a man about a dog,” Frankie called over her shoulder and disappeared around the corner.

CHAPTER 22

After all that
Frankie had been through that day, she wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl under the covers, but she knew that she couldn’t while the clock was still ticking on their pending eviction. Their trip to see Debbie had not only been pointless, but it put them further in the hole with the fines they were going to have to pay because of the altercation. Frankie couldn’t believe that for as crooked as Debbie was, she’d actually had the nerve to try to press charges on them. She wished she’d followed her first instinct and run up in her crib with the hammer instead of listening to Sahara and trying to handle the situation diplomatically. Snakes like Debbie didn’t understand diplomacy and it was a mistake Frankie wouldn’t make twice.

Frankie wandered through the streets of Harlem, thinking of a master plan. There were a few heads she could’ve gotten at to try to get up a few dollars to put toward the rent, but the majority of them weren’t about to give up something for nothing and Frankie hadn’t reached that point of desperation. That was the problem when running with thieves—there was no honor among them. She needed to get some quick cash and boosting wasn’t going to cut it. She needed a lick, and as she looked up at the street sign and realized where she was, she knew just whom she could holla at about it.

She didn’t get through on the first call or even the second, but Frankie was persistent. When she finally got through, she had to spend ten minutes explaining how she’d gotten the cell phone number in the first place before being granted a meeting and given the address to come to. It didn’t take long for Frankie to reach her new destination. It was a quiet building on 133rd and Seventh Avenue. She tapped the intercom with the coded combination she’d been given and after a few ticks the lobby door buzzed open.

Frankie could’ve taken the elevator but she decided to jog up the six flights so she could see what she was walking into. She and the person she’d called knew each other through a friend of a friend so neither really knew how far they could trust the other. Quietly, she slipped from the stairwell and made her way to the apartment door, where she knocked and waited. A few seconds passed, then the peephole moved, followed by the sound of locks coming undone. When the door opened, Frankie was greeted by a beautiful body, attached to a more beautiful face.

She was five-nine or somewhere around there. The black stiletto heels she was wearing made it hard to tell. She wore a short-cut silk robe, but it did little to hide her undergarments. The black lace lingerie she wore had clearly cost a few dollars, but with a body like hers, only the best could drape it. She had the legs of a track star, leading the path to her curvaceous hips. Her breasts were just fuller than a handful, with rich brown nipples peeking out from behind her transparent bra. From the faint stretch marks and small pouch around her stomach you could tell she’d had kids, but other than that her body was a well-oiled machine. Her face was made up almost flawlessly, but Frankie could still see the bruising around her cheek that she was trying to cover. Even with the blemish she was still fine.

“How you doing, is—” Frankie began but was cut off by a roll of the girl’s eyes.

“He’s waiting for you in the living room.” The girl stepped back for Frankie to enter. After replacing all the locks, she led Frankie into a carpeted living room. There was a nice-size television mounted on the wall over a surround-sound system that connected to several speakers through the living room. The small dining-room table in the corner was freshly wiped down and decorated with fake flowers and ornate mats. On the living room floor, a few toys were scattered from where the kids had neglected to pick them up. To anyone visiting, the apartment looked like it belonged to an average couple who might have had a few kids, but the hardened gangster sitting on the couch wearing a bathrobe and puffing an L said otherwise.

“Cutty, I wanna thank you for agreeing to see me.” Frankie made to step forward but froze in her tracks. Cutty had produced the biggest machine gun she had ever seen and had it pointed at her face.

“Bitch, skip the pleasantries and tell me why you’re really here,” Cutty demanded. All Frankie could do was swallow.

It was the second time that night she had been caught without her gun, and from the looks of things, this was the time she wished most that she had it. If every drop of liquid in her body hadn’t been frozen with fear, Frankie would’ve surely pissed her pants, looking down the barrel of that chopper. Cutty was known on the streets as a cold killer who was quick to violence. Back in the days he had been running partners with Frankie’s cousin, but she and Cutty didn’t really know each other, which made her coming to see him risky and borderline stupid, but she was desperate and knew that he was the man holding the bag that could potentially help her out of her situation.

“Little girl, I asked you a question.” Cutty chambered a round in the machine gun.

“I—it’s like I told you on the phone—I need a hookup,” Frankie stuttered. Her lips were so numb that it felt like she was mumbling when she spoke.

“Hookup? What the fuck is a hookup? This ain’t the phone company,” Cutty barked.

The girl who had answered the door cut between Cutty and Frankie and moved the gun. “Why don’t you stop playing before you scare this li’l girl to death? Sit down,” she told Frankie, motioning toward the love seat while she sat on the couch next to Cutty. “Little girl, you must either be very stupid or very desperate to come up in here to ask Cutty for anything, so which one is it?”

“I guess a li’l bit of both,” Frankie said honestly. “I kinda got myself into a li’l situation and need a quick come-up and I figured you could help me out, which is why I came looking for you when I heard you were home from prison.”

“My reputation must precede me these days,” Cutty said sarcastically, laughing. “And how did you manage to come across my contact information? I’m pretty sure I never fucked you because you’re kinda on the young side, though you do have a phat ass.” He looked her up and down. “So why don’t you tell me who put you on my trail so I can pay them a social call after I’m done with you.”

Frankie gulped. “I got your number from my aunt Eta. You told her to reach out if the family needed anything.”

Cutty leaned forward and studied Frankie. “You one of Mel’s li’l cousins?”

Frankie nodded. “I’m Frankie. Shamel used to bring you and Rio to my mom’s barbecues at our crib in the Bronx back in the days.”

At the mention of his old crime partner’s name, Cutty immediately softened and placed the machine gun on the floor. “Oh shit, li’l Francine? Damn, girl, I almost shot you for nothing. Why didn’t you say you was fam?”

“I tried,” Frankie said weakly.

“Ah, man, this changes everything! Jada, go get me and cuzo something to drink while we talk.” Jada mumbled something under her breath, which brought Cutty’s scowls. “Did you say something?” He placed his hand on her thigh and squeezed tight enough to make her wince.

When Cutty finally released his grip, Jada sprang to her feet, rubbing her thigh. “I asked if y’all wanted light liquor or dark?” she grunted.

“Surprise us, just as long as you do it quick.” Cutty smacked her on the ass way harder than he needed to. Jada gave him a murderous look before stalking off to the kitchen to do as she was told. She came back a few seconds later and placed two glasses of Hennessy in front of them. “That’s more like it.” Cutty sipped his drink. “Now you can go in the back and finished chopping up them cookies.”

Jada rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Cutty, I been cutting up work for four hours. I’ve got razor cuts on my fingertips, my hands are cramping, and I’m gonna have to soak my nails for a week to get all this shit from under them.” Jada raised her hands for Cutty to inspect.

Cutty took Jada’s hand in his and kissed her fingertips lovingly. “My baby’s fingers tired?” Without warning, Cutty bent Jada’s fingers and brought her to her knees. “Do I strike you as someone who gives a fuck about your sticky-ass fingers getting tired? You should’ve thought about that before you tried to piss on my head and tell me it was raining when I was in prison, bitch!”

“Listen, if this is a bad time I could come back.” Frankie attempted to get up but Cutty’s voice froze her.

“You keep your li’l ass glued to that seat. This will only take a second.” Cutty got up and hauled Jada off to the bedroom.

Frankie sat there nervous as hell, not really sure what to do. She hadn’t made the connection when she’d first seen the girl that she was the notorious Jada Butler, the mother of Cutty’s son Miles. Rumor had it that while Cutty was away, Jada had blown his stash partying and tricking off around Harlem. Jada and everyone else expected Cutty to be gone for a very long time but two years ago he had popped back up on the scene and had been none too pleased with Jada for how she had tried to shit on him, and he had vowed to get even. Seeing firsthand how Cutty treated someone whom he was supposed to love who ran afoul of him, Frankie had no illusions about what would happen to her if things went to the left. She had just made her mind up to forget the whole thing when Cutty reappeared.

“Fucking baby mamas.” Cutty sat back on the couch, shaking his head. “You ain’t nobody’s baby mama, is you, Frankie?”

“Nah, I ain’t got no kids and don’t want no kids,” Frankie said.

“That’s a good thing, because when you have a kid with a muthafucka you’re bound to them. No matter how fucking trifling they turn out to be, you’re tied to them for the life of that kid, or at least until they’re old enough to find out how much of a fucked-up individual the other parent is.” He cut his eyes toward the bedroom. “Now let’s deal with your little problem. How much work did you need and how much bread you got to drop up-front?”

Frankie didn’t have an immediate answer, as it was the one thing she hadn’t thought about when she’d come up with the plan. She was a thief and not a drug dealer, so she really didn’t know what she was doing. She shrugged and said, “The thing is, I don’t have any money, which is why I came to see you. I was hoping that we could work something out to where I hit you back after I flip it.”

Cutty frowned and shook his head. “You kids kill me; you always want something for nothing, and use the name of a dead man to try and soften my heart. Normally I’d run your green ass outta here and give you a good slap for wasting my time, but on the strength of my man, I’m gonna give you enough rope to hang yaself.” Cutty dug into the pocket of his robe and produced a baggie wrapped in a rubber band, which he unwrapped and held out for Frankie to inspect. It was only half full, hardly what she’d expected, but she didn’t want to insult Cutty by saying so, so she just nodded like it was exactly what she’d expected.

“Let me save you the trouble of trying to bust your brain like you really know how to eyeball coke,” Cutty continued. “That’s eleven grams of some shit that ain’t been stepped on, so you can do what you do and still get some change back.”

“Good looking out, Cutty, that’s love.” Frankie reached for the baggie, but he pulled it back.

Cutty’s eyes suddenly became dark and very serious. “Love ain’t got nothing to do with this, baby girl. This here is a business arrangement. You take these drugs and the clock starts ticking on the payback and it’s my money or your ass. Do we understand each other?”

Frankie’s rational mind told her to tell Cutty to keep his drugs and get up outta there, but she desperately needed the money, so she took the devil’s bargain. “I got you,” she assured Cutty and stuffed the drugs into her pocket. Frankie got up to leave but Cutty stopped her when she reached the door.

“Francine,” he called after her. “You try and burn me on this and it ain’t gonna matter who you’re related to.”

Frankie just nodded and left.

CHAPTER 23

By the time
Porsha got back to the hood, she was tired, aggravated, and had a splitting headache from where dude had slugged her. The liquor had him way outta pocket, and though she knew the bouncers had worked him over, she still felt cheated out of her personal revenge. Fools getting drunk and acting ignorant in strip clubs was one of the hazards of her profession. No matter where you worked and how tight security was, you always had the liquid thug who would let a few shots make him think he was the Mack.

The belligerent drunk was something most of the girls had to deal with at one point or another, but it didn’t happen as often to the girls who were
with
somebody. Porsha had been approached plenty of times by men and women offering to manage her and watch her back, but none of them could ever sell her on the idea. She reasoned that since she was the one sweating and being damn near molested in the clubs, it would be insane to give someone else a piece of her take. Porhsa was opposed to the idea of a pimp or money manager, but in light of how close she had come to getting her ass whipped, she was giving some serious thought to hiring some protection. She had seen enough episodes of
Law & Order: SVU
to know that her life was worth more than the few dollars she was trying to save.

As she made her way down the pathway to her building she couldn’t help but notice how quiet the hood was. Just a few hours ago it had been abuzz with activity, but now it looked dead. A few of the locals were in their usual spot on the last bench, drinking beers and smoking weed, but there wasn’t a D-boy in sight. The only people outside who even resembled criminals were Levi and Bernie, who were shooting dice under the streetlight, under the watchful eyes of some of the local knuckleheads.

“Hold them dice until the lady passes,” Levi told the group when he noticed Porsha coming their way.

“Wow, Levi, you never struck me as the gentlemanly type,” Porsha said with a smile as she passed them.

“I ain’t, I just wanted to watch yo ass shake when you passed,” Levi said with a crooked grin.

Porsha sucked her teeth. “Boy, you could fuck up a wet dream.”

“And I could care less as long as I was in it,” he shot back.

“Whatever.” Porsha rolled her eyes. “Hey, Bernie, where’s your other half?”

“Boots is upstairs making dinner and getting the kids ready for bed,” Bernie told her, shaking the dice in his palm.

“To be young and in love is a beautiful thing.” Porsha smiled at Bernie.

“I know it, which is why I’m glad to have a down-ass bitch like Boots in my corner holding me down,” Bernie said proudly.

“Love is overrated. Give me a nasty bitch who likes to get drunk and have a good time and I’m happy,” Levi capped.

“When you constantly shop in the gutter, all you’ll ever come up with is trash, Levi,” Porsha said over her shoulder, making her way to the building.

“I know it, and I’m good with garbage as long as it’s got a hot mouth and a wet box,” Levi called after her.

“Yo, that bitch can get it,” Levi told Bernie when Porsha was out of earshot.

“You ain’t never lied, but that’s playing it too close to home for me,” Bernie said.

“That’s because you’re afraid to take chances, my dude. Let me tell you something, if I thought there was even a chance that Porsha would let me hit that, I’d cheat God in a poker game to make it happen,” Levi said seriously.

“Levi, you are too thirsty for words. Niggaz like you are constantly in the race, while niggaz like me already took first prize.” Bernie poked his chest out.

Levi gave him a pitiful look. “My dude, if what you got is first prize, then I’ll take runner-up all day.”

“What you mean by that?” Bernie asked defensively.

Levi started to let him in on what everybody already knew, but he was in a decent enough mood that night so he let him live. “Nothing. I’m just saying I ain’t the kinda nigga who can see myself locked down with the same piece of pussy night in and night out,” Levi lied.

“Everything ain’t for everybody, Levi, but at the end of the day we all play the game to find that one special person who we can trust with our lives,” Bernie said.

Levi couldn’t help himself. “So you’re trying to tell me that you trust Boots completely?” One of the boys who was standing around listening started to snicker, but a stern look from Levi quieted him.

Bernie paused for a long moment. “Yeah, I trust Boots,” he said, but he didn’t sound as sure as he wanted to come across.

Levi wanted to fall in the grass laughing, but he held his composure. Instead, he placed a friendly hand on Bernie’s shoulder and gave him a little squeeze. “Then you’re a far better man than I am, brother. I wouldn’t trust no bitch, especially one with Boots’s pedigree.” It was clear that Bernie didn’t understand the word, so he elaborated: “It just means that Boots is a street chick, no disrespect, B.”

“Oh, a’ight,” Bernie said, with some of his confidence restored.

“Ayo,” a voice called from the shadows of the path leading to the parking lot. All eyes turned to see who it was, but it was only Levi who smiled when he saw the thin young girl motioning for him to come over.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” Levi excused himself from the dice game. “Yo, Bernie, when y’all plan the wedding date I wanna be the first nigga to get an invite,” he capped as he walked off.

“If you spent as much time trying to get a chick instead of worrying about the next man’s, then maybe you’ll be able to get some pussy without paying for it,” Bernie called after him. “Sucka-ass nigga don’t think I know he want my bitch.” Bernie snorted.

Levi laughed at Bernie’s parting remark. He’d tried to put Levi on blast, but anybody who knew him knew that he preferred whores to squares anyhow. For the same amount of money he would pay on a date, he could get a piece of grade-A pussy minus the headaches of conversation. Whores were definitely Levi’s vice, but they were also Bernie’s, whether he knew it or not. Boots’s mouth was more rancid than the city dump and Bernie happily kissed her in it every night.

“What it do, Faye?” Levi greeted the girl. Faye was a slim goodie who had a decent enough shape, but it was nothing to write home about.

“I can’t call it, a bitch out here stressed. I got into it with my moms again and she put me out,” Faye explained.

“Damn, you and your moms are worse than Ali and Holmes. What y’all fighting about now?”

“Her stupid-ass boyfriend again. All that nigga does is lay around and drink all day, but she’s constantly on me about when I’m getting a job. When I was getting a li’l bullshit money with Happy I always broke bread with her, and now she wanna act all funny about it. Me and her were arguing and her boyfriend tried to get in it so I swung on him. Instead of her taking my side she took his and told me I had to get out. I got the keys to my sister’s crib in Yonkers, but she’s not gonna be home until Monday so I would need the money to get there and for some food to hold me down for a few days.”

Levi knew where Faye was going with it, but decided to play along. “How much you talking?”

“Maybe like fifty bucks. Do you think you can help me out?”

A plan immediately began to form in Levi’s mind. “Well, I’m popped right now but somebody is supposed to be dropping me off some change in a few hours. Holla at me then and I can do something for you.”

“Thanks, Levi, I promise I’ll pay you back,” Faye said sincerely.

“It’s all good, Faye, you know you my li’l nigga. So where you gonna be?”

Faye shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess I’ll walk around out here until you holla at me.”

Levi smiled. “Faye, you know I ain’t gonna see you wandering around out here by yaself. I’ll tell you what, why don’t you come kick it with me at my spot. I got a blunt and a corner of Hennessy left from last night. We can sip and smoke until my bread comes through.”

Faye’s eyes lit up. After the day she had been having, a drink and some weed sounded like just what the doctor ordered. “Okay, I’ll meet you on the corner of One-Hundredth Street in five minutes. I don’t want these gossiping-ass niggaz to see us leaving together and start spreading rumors.”

“Privacy is my middle name, ma. I’ll see you in a few.” Levi walked away. A broad smile crossed his face. Faye thought she was going to game him out of some bread, but Levi had a little game of his own he intended on playing with Faye.

*   *   *

After about ten
minutes of waiting for the elevator, Porsha got tired of waiting and decided to take the steps. She hated going up and down the piss-and-graffiti-riddled stairs but she would be an old maid by the time the elevator came down, and that’s only if they were actually working.

With her little roll-on in tow, Porsha began her hike. She was about to round the landing to the second floor when she heard movement. Retrieving her pepper spray from her purse, she placed her back against the wall and began inching up. As she drew closer, she was able to make out what sounded like faint moaning and slurping. Moving as stealthily as she could, Porsha poked her head around the corner and what she saw made her jaw drop.

Happy was sitting on the steps with his head back. His breathing was short and ragged in between his moans of pleasure. Between his legs a young woman knelt with her head moving up and down in a rhythm. His cubby fingers were wrapped in her dry weave as he tried to force himself deeper into her throat. From the way his bottom lip was quivering, Porsha could tell that the girl was good at what she was going. For as much as Porsha wanted to turn away, she found herself intrigued by what she was seeing. She wasn’t into girls, but watching her expertly suck Happy off stirred something in her. Happy’s grip on the girl’s hair tightened as he gasped for her to go deeper and with a slight gag she obliged.

Catching brief glimpses of the girl’s profile struck a chord of familiarity with Porsha, but she was so caught up in the show that she didn’t place her right off. Happy winced and began to babble something unintelligible, signaling that he was about to come. The girl tried to pull her face away, but Happy used both hands to hold her in place and began ramming himself inside her mouth faster and faster. With a grunt, Happy exploded in the girl’s mouth and all over her face and hair.

“Damn, that shit was great.” Happy panted as he continued stroking his cock to empty himself.

“Nigga, I told you not to come in my fucking mouth.” The girl jumped up and began wiping her face with the back of her shirtsleeve. When she turned around, Porsha got a good look at her and realized why she was so familiar. It was Boots.

“Wow, that was quite a show,” Porsha announced herself, scaring the hell out of Happy and Boots.

“Bitch, what the fuck are you doing sneaking around in staircases?” Boots snapped. Her sharp words couldn’t hide the embarrassment on her face.

“What am
I
doing in the staircase?” Porsha looked her up and down. “That’s a question you better hope ya baby daddy doesn’t ask you, boo-boo.”

Boots got in Porsha’s face. “Yo, on my kids, if you open ya mouth about this I’m gonna—”

“You ain’t gonna do shit,” Porhsa cut her off. “Let me tell you something, sweetie, I ain’t one of these li’l bitches who get scared when they hear the stories about how you used to give it up, so watch how you talk to me, before we have a situation. I don’t give a fuck about you, your dizzy-ass baby daddy, or whose dick you put in your nasty-ass mouth, so I stand to gain nothing by blowing you up. But let’s be clear on something: the next time you roll up on me like you wanna do something, I’m gonna snatch that nappy-ass weave outta your bald-ass head.”

“Ladies, ladies, there’s no need to argue.” Happy got in between them and draped his arms around both of them. “We’re all adults here so I’m sure we can work this out like grown folks. Hell, there may be an opportunity here for us all to get better acquainted.” He let his fingers brush Porsha’s hair.

“Happy, if you don’t move that slimy-ass hand you ain’t gonna get it back,” Porsha threatened.

“Damn, youz a cold bitch.” Happy removed his arm.

“You keep trying to smut me like you do these bitches and you’ll find out just how cold I am.” Porsha bumped past him and made her way up the steps.

“I know that’s right, only the best for Porsha. Well, you know my pockets run deep, baby girl, so whenever you’re ready to stop playing hard-to-get, you know where to find me.”

Porsha stopped and glared down at Happy. “Hap, your pockets can run from here to the other side of the world and it still wouldn’t be enough to let your diseased little dick find its way inside these golden walls.” With a roll of her eyes, Porsha disappeared.

“I can’t believe this rotten bitch,” Boots fumed as she fixed her hair as best she could. She could feel the come starting to dry at the roots and knew that she’d have to wash it soon before she ended up having to cut the weave out. “I swear to God, if she tells Bernie, I’m gonna stomp her out.”

“Don’t worry, she ain’t gonna say nothing.” Happy fixed his pants. He had a big smile plastered across his face and a far-off look in his eyes.

“I’m glad you’re so damn confident that she’s gonna keep her mouth closed, because I ain’t. Bitches love to cause trouble. And what the hell do you keep smiling about?”

Happy let out a small giggle. “Because I think I’m in love.”

*   *   *

Porsha was applying
the finishing touches to her makeup when she heard Sahara come in. She knew it was Sahara and not Frankie because she wouldn’t have heard Frankie. The girl moved like a cat burglar and had scared the hell out of Porsha on more than one occasion.

“How’d it go with Debbie?” Porsha asked Sahara when she came into the bathroom.

“Hold on,” Sahara grumbled while she fumbled with the button on her pants and danced around trying to keep from pissing on herself. There was no way she was going to sit on one of the nasty toilets in the precinct so she had been holding it for hours and now her bladder threatened to burst. She finally got the button undone and plopped on the toilet to relieve herself. “Didn’t you get any of the messages we’ve been leaving on the answering machine? We’re just getting out of jail!”