For the Strength of You (3 page)

“Tammy, I swear I can't stand him. I just can't. I just wanna murk his ass. I know he shot you. I know he did.”

“Anshon, drop that shit, for real, and listen to what I want to tell you. I'm done with the game.”

“What?” Anshon twisted his face.

“I'm done with the hustle. There's nothing left for me to prove. I've got some loot in the bank, my house is paid for, I have my Mercedes truck. I'm done.”

“That's only half of what we can get together.” Anshon sighed. “I know I've only been home for a minute and so far I've only been nickel and dimin' it, but come on. We can push some fuckin' weight, get Selma on lock, and serve all these niggas.”

“I'm tired of that. I been shot up, robbed, can't take care of my kids, and I constantly have to watch my back. The only thing left is for the Feds to run up on me. And from what I can see, ain't none of this shit worth it.”

Anshon sat silently. Tammy continued, “Look, what I want is for us to move to Miami. While you were locked up, I bought a little spot down there. We could move there and have a new start.”

“Yo, you trippin'.” Anshon got up from the table and started to pace. “Big sis, all that you talkin' is beautiful, but I need to make a few more runs and then I'll be straight. I can't keep depending on you to take care of me. Just let me in, Tammy. Tell me the connect. I know you never wanted me that deep in the game, but you gotta put me on. I promise another year and then I'm done.”

Tammy shook her head. “Don't let the game be your demise, Anshon. Please don't.”

“It won't. Just put me on,” he begged.

“I can't do that Anshon.”

Anshon walked over to the table and slammed his fist into it. “What the fuck, Tammy! Why not? Don't you see how hard it is for me? You of all people should know that I don't have shit. Nobody said anything to you when you hooked up with Tom-Tom and y'all started lockin' shit down!”

“That was different, I had to take care of you!”

“You ain't take care of me; you took care of you!”

“Anshon!” Tammy yelled. “I should slap the shit out of you!” Tammy couldn't believe what she was hearing.

Anshon didn't know the half of what she went through. All he ever saw was the gully, thugged-out shit; the glitz, the street glamour, and the ghetto richness. So what that he'd been in prison for two years? As far as Anshon was concerned, doing time was all a part of the hustle. Somehow being behind bars made him just that much more thorough, or so he thought. In his mind, it meant that he could rock with the best of 'em, and this is what scared Tammy to death.

“Don't you wanna be more than a street nigga?” Tammy asked him. “What about your football scholarship? Remember, the one you lost because of the streets?”

“I didn't lose that because of the streets.” He looked at her like she was crazy. “I lost it because I did a bid for you. Hell, that wasn't my shit. That was yours. I took the weight because you had kids. It was my first offense and it wasn't that much shit. I was supposed to get probation, remember? But instead, I got two years upstate. And what you get?” He looked around the dining room. “You got paid.”

“Nigga, do you know what I did for you?” Tammy stood on her feet as best she could. “I took care of yo' black ass when Mommy died. We didn't have shit, not even a pot to piss in and a cracked window to throw it out of, and you got the nerve to talk shit to me? Our damn daddy didn't even give a fuck about us. Shit, I wasn't much older than you, but I did the best I could with what I had. I'm the one who busted my ass off a two-dollar waitress's salary to take care of you. I wasn't your mother; I was your sister!” Tammy broke down and started crying. “Triflin'-ass, ungrateful nigga!”

She had been only eighteen when their mother died. Anshon was twelve. Their father had remarried and wanted nothing to do with them, forcing Tammy to take care of Anshon on her own. She started as a waitress at the Waffle House, and although what she made wasn't much, it was just enough to help her make ends meet. Plus, the customers loved her, and those who knew her situation always gave her good tips.

Tom-Tom was new in town and had just moved to Selma from Raleigh. From his gear alone, everyone could tell he was a drug-dealin' street nigga. Every night Tom-Tom ate dinner at the Waffle House, and he always made sure to sit in Tammy's station. His pockets were laced, so he was sure to always compensate Tammy for her service.

After a while of waiting on him, Tammy started checkin' for him a little bit, but knowing that he sold drugs, she knew she couldn't be bothered with him.

“Wassup, shawtie?” Tom-Tom greeted Tammy as he sat down at the counter.

“May I take your order?” Tammy sucked her teeth.

Tom-Tom smiled.
Oh, she got an attitude.
“If I give you my order, can you handle it?”

“Depends if we got it.”

“Well, look. How about you and me tonight at seven? I come by and pick you up and we go out.”

“Boy, is you crazy?” She flipped, “Hell naw! I know what's up with you, and I ain't goin' out with no street-runnin' drug nigga.”

“Whoooa, slow it the fuck down. You don't know me. I was trying to kick it to you because I thought you were kinda fly, that's it. Don't get it fucked up. You ain't all that. Better take that shit down.”

“Well . . .”

“Well nothing. This was a bad idea.” Tom-Tom got off the stool he was sitting on and left.

It was a week before he came back. When he walked in the door, he walked in with three of his partners. He looked at Tammy, cut his eyes, and walked the other way.

“Damn, Javette,” Tammy said to one of the other waitresses. “He's going to your station. I really want to apologize for the way I tripped the other night. Please let me have that table. I'll give you the tip, whatever it is.”

“Shitttt, hell yeah then,” Javette agreed. “Them drug niggas be wantin' too much anyway.”

Tammy walked over to Tom-Tom's table. “Hello. My name is Tammy. May I take your order?”

“Grits, eggs, and steak,” Tom-Tom said, not once looking up at her. “Give everybody else what they want. That is, if you can handle that. Last thing we need is a ho trippin' and shit.” He chuckled and glanced at his partners.

“First of all,” Tammy snapped, “I ain't a ho, ho. And second of all, I apologize for trippin' on you the other night. I was wrong, and I'm woman enough to admit that.”

Tom-Tom laughed. “A'ight, li'l mama. I'ma let it go, 'cause I like how feisty you are. So what about tonight?”

“Tomorrow, at seven.”

“Bet, tomorrow.”

After that, Tammy and Tom-Tom saw each other every day. She loved him, and without meaning to, he began to love her, which was why it took him a little over a year to ask her to transport for him. At first Tammy told him no, but as time went on, the harder it was to make ends meet. So eventually, Tammy took Tom-Tom up on his offer and began running the drug line from Selma to D.C. and back again. During the next couple of years, they were a team, and their reputation preceded them all along the Eastern seaboard.

During one of her runs to D.C., Tammy came back and Tom-Tom was in jail. He'd been caught with an unregistered firearm, and because this wasn't his first offense, the judge gave him five years hard labor, leaving Tammy to run the show.

She did well for a while. Shit was going off without a hitch, until the night that she and Anshon were stopped alongside of Highway 301.

Anshon had just turned eighteen when he and Tammy were pulled over by the police in Raleigh. The police ran the plates, and Tammy's car came back with over a hundred parking tickets, causing the police to have to seize the car.

Anshon became nervous because he knew what Tammy had tucked beneath the seats. He knew Tammy could never go to prison, because she now had two little mouths to feed.

Anshon's niece and nephew were all he could think about. He couldn't see them suffer without a mother the way he did. So, he grabbed the shit and jumped out the ride with over 200 grams of coke. The police caught him only minutes later.

Tammy hired the best lawyer she could, but the best deal they got Anshon was a two-year bid. Tammy always felt guilty about her brother's situation. To the best of her ability, she repped for her two niggas on lockdown, Tom-Tom and Anshon.

Tammy played the game as best she could, and it was all gravy until she went to the Redwood Village apartments seven months ago to collect her dough and was robbed for $287,000. She had been left in the middle of the parking lot with six bullets burning in her back.

* * *

Tammy stood up straight, but she could feel her knees getting weak. For a moment, Anshon forgot about her not wanting to let him deeper into the game. He just couldn't believe that she was standing on her own . . . and for so long.

“Walk,” he said, almost in a whisper. “You can do it.” As soon as he said that, her knees gave way and she fell to the floor. “Tammy!” Anshon said in a panic, holding his hand out to help her up.

“I don't need your help!” She pushed his hand away. Sitting up, she grabbed the edge of the table and pulled herself up into the chair. Tammy looked at Anshon and tears ran from her eyes. She could see his life flash before her, and if witnessing her crippled life without her children wasn't enough for him, then she needed to give Anshon exactly what he wanted . . . the game.

“I'll set up the first run.” Tammy swallowed hard. “Introduce you to the connect, let him make the choice of whether he wants to work with you or not, and then I'm out. Understand?”

“Yes.” Anshon was trying not to smile, but he couldn't help it.

“But first, I have to share some things with you about the game.”

“What?”

“If you would shut up.”

“My fault.” He smiled.

Tammy couldn't stand it when Anshon smiled, because his dimples would light up his face, and when that happened, she couldn't stay mad at him long.

“Anshon,” she said, reaching for his hand, “listen closely. I want you to know that the higher you are and the more you serving, the worse niggas get. Niggas that you ain't never seen or knew about come for your throat. Two of the most important things I want you to know are: One, you can protect yourself from your enemies, but you need God to shield you from your friends. It's always the ones you least expect. And two, keep your come up on the low. Don't buy a whole buncha new shit. Keep that Chevy and ride that ma'fucker to the ground. Don't trick your money away. Keep the white bitch suckin' ya dick. Don't give no credit, and don't shit where you sleep.”

“That's more than two, Tammy.”

“Shut up.” She laughed. “I'm just telling you. This is how you run the game. Quietly. Trust me, it'll keep you alive.”

Six months later
. . .

 

“Constance!” Teck yelled into the phone, sitting on his front porch, watching Anshon ride by, with the music from Anshon's brand new and minted '77 Chevy leaving an echo behind.

Instantly Teck became pissed. “What the fuck you mean, you don't know where that nigga keeping his stash? He floating around with a mouth fulla ice and platinum and a brand new fuckin' Chevy, plus I hear he just bought a brand new double wide, tucked away in the country somewhere. Now tell me what the fuck is goin' on! I already told my brother not to fuck wit' yo' crazy ass!”

“Don't worry about me and Wallo,” she snapped, ready to hang up on him. She was sick of Teck calling and harassing her. “Plus, I already told you that I don't know where his stash is. And furthermore, I'm at work and I don't have time for this bullshit! Not to mention, Anshon don't be staying with me like he used to.”

“I tell you what,” Teck said, as he noticed Fe-Fe crossing the street. “If you don't find out about the dough, I'ma slit your throat.” He hung up.

“Yo, Fe,” he called to her from across the street. “Where you goin'?”

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. “I'm goin' to Doughnut's.”

“That fat fuck.” Teck laughed. Doughnut was a local weed hustler who ate all his money away.

I know this nigga ain't fuckin' Fe-Fe
, Teck thought,
Unless he done stepped his game up and selling more than weed.

“Wallo,” Teck yelled to his brother, who was in the house, watching
Sports Center
. “Come on, let's go see what the fuck Doughnut's up to. 'Cause if the nigga got some cash, we gotta make plans to snatch it.”

Wallo walked out of the house and onto the porch, dressed in a baggy pair of jeans, a thick gray hoodie, and some Tims. “How did you know I was going over to Doughnut's?”

Teck looked at his brother like he was crazy. “What are you talking about? I'm the one who told you let's go to Doughnut's.”

“Oh.” Wallo sucked his teeth. “I'm going over to Doughnut's now. This nigga got a trick over there. We 'bout to run a serious fuckin' train.” He grabbed his dick. “And I swear I can't wait to fuck this freaky bitch. Word up, I know this shawtie gonna be all the way live!”

Before Teck could comment, Anshon pulled up. Teck bit the inside of his jaw as he noticed Tammy sitting in the front seat.

Damn she looks good
, he thought.

“What up, dawg?” Teck said to Anshon.

“You, nigga.” Anshon grinned, showing his brand new platinum teeth.

“Oh, a nigga got new fronts.” Wallo laughed, pointing to Anshon's mouth, walking toward the car. When he stood next to the passenger side of the car, he leaned in and gave Tammy a kiss on the cheek. Then he said to Anshon, “Yo' I'm on my way to Doughnut's. He got a li'l jump off ‘bout to blaze the spot.”

“Y'all still into that shit?” Anshon frowned.

“Don't sleep, nigga.” Teck shook his head. “You don't run a train every day.”

“A train?” Tammy curled her upper lip.

“That ain't nothin' you gotta worry about, li'l mama,” Teck said, staring at Tammy. She looked so pretty in her white fox with the matching headband that instantly his dick was hard.

The mid-February cold seemed to fit Tammy quite well. Despite her being crippled, Teck wanted to push up on her.

Tammy could feel Teck's vibe, but instead of her being at ease that this fine-ass, tall chocolate cutie was trying to kick it to her, she cringed. The stare in his dark brown eyes scared the hell outta her. She hadn't felt such an intense feeling of fright since she was gunned down and left for dead.

Closing her eyes, Tammy began to flash back to the day she was shot. She could see herself laying in a pool of her own blood, drowning, as the shooter, on his knees, bent over and whispered in a raspy voice, “I'm sorry.” Then he kissed her on her forehead as she lay there almost lifeless.

As he went to turn his back, Tammy mustered up enough strength to pull at the hem of his black T-shirt. He had a ski mask on, and she desperately wanted to pull him to the ground so that she could see his face. But all she could manage to do was rip the collar of his shirt, causing the neck to stretch out of shape, revealing a tattoo of a bald eagle. It was a tattoo that she felt would be etched in her mind forever.

“I'm ready to go, Anshon,” Tammy said, shaking herself from her flashback as she opened her eyes.

He looked at her, perplexed. “I thought you wanted to talk to Teck about locking down this block for us.”

“Naw, maybe later. My head is starting to hurt.”

Feeling uneasy, Teck stepped back from the car. “Holla at me later, Anshon. A'ight?”

“Yeah,” Anshon said, slightly embarrassed by his sister's behavior. “I'll holla in about an hour.” They pulled off.

“What was that about?” Anshon said as they turned the corner.

“Nothing,” Tammy snapped. “It's just time for me to move to Miami.”

“Naw, don't give me that bullshit. You had something on your mind. Spill it.”

Tammy took a deep breath. “Looking at Teck made me think about when I was shot.”

“How?”

“His stare,” she said, looking out the window and nervously playing with her hands. “Something about Teck's eyes reminded me of the guy who shot me. Then I started having flashbacks of the eagle tattoo on his shoulder.”

“Whose shoulder? Teck?”

“No.” Tammy's bottom lip started to shake. “The shooter.”

Anshon was confused. “How did you see the shooter's shoulder? I thought you played dead.”

“I did, but before I played dead, I yanked the hem of his shirt, revealing his tattoo, but when he turned around and stared at me through the eyes of his ski mask, I swore, Anshon,” she said, wiping her falling tears, “that I would never forget that glare he had. The same glare that Teck had a minute ago.”

“But, Tammy, how could you see all that and play dead?”

“Because after I saw the tattoo, I dropped my hand, closed my eyes, and let the blood that kept dripping down my throat slide out the corners of my mouth.”

Anshon slammed on brakes as he almost hit the car in front of him. He was trying to shake the visual Tammy had just laid on him. The veins in his neck felt like they wanted to explode.

“I swear to God, Tammy!” Anshon yelled, coming to a screeching halt and banging on the steering wheel. “If and when I find that nigga, I'ma murk his ass, execution style, and that's on my word.”

Tears rolled down Tammy's face because she knew there was nothing she could say to change the way Anshon felt . . . and something deep inside of her didn't want to.

“But, Tammy,” Anshon said, “you shouldn't be scared of Teck. Teck and Wallo is damn near family.”

“Family?” Tammy snapped, “When you beatin' this street, servin' these niggas, and goin' hard for that cake, it ain't no ma'fuckin' family.”

“Come on, Tammy, my brother's keeper—”

“Yeah, my brother's keeper got his ass shot trying to set up his own block.”

“Yo, that's cold, B.”

“Yeah, and so is these streets.”

* * *

Teck was still feeling uneasy about the way Tammy had reacted to him, but he tried to shake it. He twisted his lips and thought about Doughnut and Wallo.

“Let me see if Wallo's ass found out that Fe-Fe is the jump off.” Teck laughed to himself.

“Wassup, Teck?” Doughnut said, breathing heavily as he opened the door. Doughnut's house smelled like a bad flavor of ass.

“Goddamn, y'all some nasty niggas,” Teck said, holding his nose and watching Wallo come out of Doughnut's bedroom with his legs shaking.

“That bitch is bad,” Wallo said, wiping his forehead.

“Where the ho at?” Teck asked, lighting up a purple haze.

“In the bathroom takin' a shower.” Wallo grabbed his dick.

“Who is it?” Teck asked, waiting to hear Fe-Fe's name so that he could fall out laughing.

“Does it matter?” Doughnut frowned. “Long as she lay and let us spray, it's all good.”

Doughnut sat down on the couch and switched from BET to a porno flick. Wallo dimmed the lights and sat on the couch next to him. He reached over the arm of the couch and handed his brother two condoms.

“Make good use of 'em.” No sooner than he said that did Fe-Fe step out of the bathroom, rocking a navy blue negligee with fake Fendi
F
s scribbled all over. The garter belt was clean, but it had two big holes in it.

She looked at Teck and smiled. Her mouth lit up with two gold front teeth. Teck had to do a double take. From the neck up, Fe-Fe was a winner . . . and from the looks of it, if her negligee was in better condition, her body would also be a banger. She walked in front of the TV and placed her leg on the coffee table, revealing her nicely waxed pussy. Teck couldn't believe it.

“Ready for another round, boys?” She winked at Teck. “Wassup with you?”

“You better go 'head,” Wallo urged his brother. “Don't let the crackhead look fool you. That's just her style right now, but word up, she got some bomb-ass pussy!”

Teck grabbed Fe-Fe by the arm. “You better not tell nobody but God!”

Teck walked in Doughnut's bedroom with Fe-Fe and frowned up his nose. Doughnut's room smelled like infected ass. Teck opened the window and motioned for Fe-Fe to sit down on the bed.

“What you want, some head?” she asked. “I don't know what them niggas told you, but this pussy right here”—She pointed between her legs—“ain't a free fuck. Don't get it twisted.”

“You think I want some pussy from you after you done let them two li'l niggas run up in you? Oh, hell no.”

“Then why you got me back here?” She frowned.

“Because I always wanted to ask you something. Why do you get high?”

“What the hell kinda question is that?” Fe-Fe rolled her eyes and placed her hands on her hips. “What the fuck you sell drugs for?”

“Sell drugs? Please, that ain't even my main hustle.”

“Then what's your hustle?”

Teck smiled. “I asked you the question first.”

“I can't believe I'ma answer this.” She smirked. “Back in the day I used to run with Tammy and Tom-Tom. Drugs were everywhere, and I wanted to try 'em. I was already a weed head, but I wanted to see what crack was like and dope too. So I tried 'em.”

“And that's it?” Teck frowned. “That's how you became a fiend?”

“Naw.” Fe-Fe held her head down. “It started out two or three days a week, and then it grew to every day.”

“You got any kids, Fe-Fe?” Teck asked, sitting on the bed next to her.

“I got twin boys.” Tears were starting to roll down her cheeks.

“Who's their daddy?”

“Nigga, you gettin' a little fuckin' personal now. I ain't never had no nigga who wanted his dick sucked to ask me about my kids and their daddy.”

“I don't want my dick sucked.” Teck stroked her hair. “And I ain't just any ol' nigga.”

She held her mouth tight. “Their daddy is whatever nigga had the dough to get me my next hit.”

“Damn,” Teck said, disgusted.

“See, I knew I shouldn't have told you my business.”

“Naw, it's cool. I'm good. Where your kids at now?”

“My cousin. She keepin' 'em until I get my act together.”

“How long she had 'em?”

“For five years.”

“Don't you want your kids back?”

“Ugly as I am?” she snapped. “I don't want my kids seeing me.”

“Ugly?” That caught Teck off guard.

“Yeah, nigga, ugly. Nobody ever told me I was beautiful. That shit always hurt me, and when I was high, I realized that I could chase the pain away.”

“I wonder if that's why my mom got high,” Teck said, more to himself than to Fe-Fe.

“People get high for different reasons,” Fe-Fe said with tears filling her eyes. “Some reasons they can talk about, and some reasons they can't. You think I like being a junkie? I just can't help it.”

“I would help you,” Teck said, rubbing his hand across her cheek.

“Yeah, right.” She twisted her lips.

“I would, but you have to want to stop getting high.”

“I do.”

“Well, I'll take you to the clinic tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Fe-Fe frowned, “Slow it down, nigga. I got to get my hit on for at least two more days. Then we can talk about gettin' clean.”

Teck looked at Fe-Fe and shook his head.

* * *

Anshon was decked from head to toe. He stood in front of the full-length mirror inside his walk-in closet and grinned at his reflection. This was the happiest he'd been in a long time. Tammy had hooked him up with the connect. He was gettin' paid and servin' half of Selma and some of Raleigh while doing it.

He remembered quite well that Tammy had instructed him to be quiet on the come up, but some things he just couldn't resist. His minted '77 pearlized blue Chevy with 22-inch chrome Giovannis and a white rag top was one of 'em, along with his custom-designed, bricked-in double wide trailer, tucked away in the country. This was the fuckin' life.

He bent down while looking in the mirror and tied his all white Air Force Ones. He stood up straight and picked a piece of lint from his winter white hoodie. His blue Ecko jeans were perfect. He slipped on his army fatigue jacket and green Vietnam cap. His long braids hung under the cap and rested on his shoulders, and his thick Gucci link platinum chain set it all off. Anshon couldn't help but smile. It was obvious that he was the shit.