Hell House (6 page)

“Prince,” the white man said. “My name is Jeff. Have a seat and I'll be happy to tell you what else may be in this for you.”

I walked over to the couch and sat next to the dark dude who I
had seen a few times in the hood. I wasn't sure if he knew me or not, but he gave me a nod before I took a seat. The other wannabe pretty nigga didn't say nothing. I wasn't down with the way his uptight ass had looked at me, nor was I down with the hoes snuggling with their purses. Those bitches knew better. If I wanted their shit, I would take it.

“Pertaining to money,” Jeff said, continuing on with his conversation. “The last person standing may be in a position to win one hundred thousand dollars. There are some stipulations, but—”

“One hundred thousand dollars!” the hefty chick shouted. “Canal Street in New York, here I come! I'mma get me an assistant Coach purse and some coochie glasses.”

The other chick with a ponytail gave her a high-five. “I know that's right, but you know it's Gucci, right?” she said. “Time for a real Coach purse and a new car.”

Obviously, these tricks didn't know what real money was. One hundred thousand dollars wasn't nothing to brag about, and since the pretty nigga didn't flinch, I could tell he wasn't moved either. Neither was the dark dude. Seeing him shaking and moving in the hood, I figured he probably made that kind of money in one week. But looking at it from another perspective, the money would come in handy. I was the real
Street Soldier
in the room, so I was sure that the money would fall into my pockets real soon.

“Stipulations that require everyone to follow the rules,” Jeff said, looking at me. “I'll say it again…if you're caught disobeying the rules, we'll ask you to leave.”

“Why the fuck you lookin' at me? I have no problem playin' by the rules, but I need to know what they are again. I guess I missed out by bein' late.”

Jeff repeated the rules, and since they were cool with me, I stood up and followed along with everyone else as he gave us a
tour. Before he started, he asked that we all introduce ourselves to each other. I told everybody that my real name was Jamal, but I preferred to be called Prince. After the introduction was over, the tour started in the foyer. Jeff pointed to a small sitting area that included a white leather sofa and a couple of chairs. Jada was the only person who had walked into the room to take a seat, even though Jeff said that he preferred we not utilize that particular room as much. She rubbed her hands on the leather, claiming that her friend had a sofa exactly like that one at her house.

“I mean, it's just like this. We picked it up at Big Lots about three weeks ago. That thing was real cheap, and I can understand why you said you didn't want nobody to come in here and sit. Cheap stuff never lasts for long, and I told her tail that when she bought it.”

All of us just looked at each other, confused. This chick was weird as fuck, and when she referred to the rug on the floor as an organic rug, I almost lost it on this dumb broad. What school did she go to? Thank God that Jeff opened his mouth to address her ignorance before somebody else did.

“I can assure you that the sofa didn't come from Big Lots, and the rug is an Oriental Pakistan Ziegler rug that was hand knotted and—”

Jada cocked her head back and frowned. “Pakistan? So, you tellin' me Bin Laden could've made that rug before he was killed? Let me get out of here. I definitely don't want to be puttin' my feet on nothin' that fool made.”

Jeff sighed a little and the rest of us remained in disbelief. Nobody told me I'd have to be living in this house with a mental patient, and unfortunately, her bullshit didn't stop there. While Jeff was showing us the elegant dining room, Jada had picked up a piece of china from the table and was glaring at her reflection. Using the china as a mirror, she was working her hair and shit,
while sucking her teeth. You could always tell a bitch who wasn't used to nothing because they didn't know how to act. It was hard to concentrate on what Jeff was saying, when she was up in here acting like she had ADD.

“Shoot,” she said, still sucking her teeth. “Is that a piece of meat in my teeth? Jaylin, come over here and look at this. Tell me if you see anything in between my teeth.”

That nigga's face was flat, but he walked up to her with his hands in his pockets. The suit he had on was nice, and I don't ever think I had a suit in my possession that fit me like his did him. Either way, he squinted to look at Jada's teeth, while she kept them on display.

“I don't see no meat, but I do see a stick of butter. Be sure to take care of that when you get a chance.”

The chicks to my right laughed, but Jada pursed her lips.

“Baby, you don't see no butter on these teeth, and Jeff got way more on his than I do.”

Embarrassment washed across Jeff's face. He tried to play it off by laughing, though, but the man had had enough. Jada claimed she was only kidding, but she wasn't because his teeth could've used the attention of a dentist.

Jeff also told us to limit our time in the contemporary dining room, but I wasn't so sure about that. I definitely had to get my mind right because there was a time when I would've bagged up some of this shit and taken it to the pawnshop around the corner from my house. Everything on the table looked expensive and there was a possibility that I had hit the jackpot. Then again, the new me wouldn't even go there.

It took about thirty more minutes for us to tour the entire house because Jada and Jaylin kept throwing snide remarks and jabs at each other. I couldn't tell if they were playing or not, but the shit
got on my nerves. Roc griped about the nonsense, too, but him and that Chase chick were very cozy with each other. While paying extra attention to my surroundings, I saw Roc taking peeks at her and Sylvia's asses. I had checked the women out too, and I had to admit that they had it going on. Jada also, but she was too damn silly. I couldn't imagine myself being with a chick with that much energy and playfulness.

Once the tour was done, I asked to be excused so I could go take a leak. Jeff said he didn't have much else to share, so I dropped my duffle bag and made my way down the hall. When I got there, I lowered the toilet seat and sat on it. Rolled up a fat-ass joint, then I lit it. My thoughts were on my headaches back at home. Seemed as if trouble had a way of following me. If I disappeared for a while, maybe things would chill. I suspected this place wouldn't be too bad. As long as I kept my distance from the others, things would be cool.

I filled my lungs with smoke from the joint and swallowed to get the real rush I needed. The weed was fire, and after several more hits, I was blazing. I looked around at the bathroom, wondering how in the hell all of us would be able to share it. I mean, the smell of my shit wasn't nothing to play with. Anybody entering the bathroom after me would definitely have something to deal with. I laughed from the thought. Leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees and chuckled some more. But as I was about to take another hit from the joint, somebody knocked on the door.

“Speak!” I shouted.

“You almost done?” the voice said. I could tell it was the dark dude, so I put the joint out with the tip of my finger and placed it into my pocket.

“Hold up.” I opened the cabinets and looked for some air freshener. I didn't want anyone to get a whiff of what I had been doing.

“Hurry up,” he fussed. “I need to drain the big vein.”

I quickly found the air freshener underneath the sink and sprayed it before waving my hands around and opening the door.

“Damn,” the dude said as he came into the bathroom with his jeans already unzipped. “What took—” He paused to sniff the air. “Never mind. I already know what's up.”

I wasn't trying to be caught up in the bathroom with this nigga, but I wanted to know if he had seen me around.

“Ay, don't you be hangin' out near St. Louis Avenue, Newstead and Natural Bridge?”

“Sometimes,” he said with his dick hanging out of his jeans and peeing. He looked relieved. “I have an auto body slash mechanic shop off St. Louis Avenue named after me.”

I thought about the area in my head and it hit me. “Roc? Are you Roc Dawson?”

“In the flesh.”

Roc had a decent reputation in the hood and many people respected his hustle. He was definitely on the come up. “Well, I'm Prince. Heard a lot about you, and the word is, you good people.”

“All good,” Roc said, washing his hands and wiping them on a towel. “And St. Louis ain't as big as you think. Heard some things about you, too, Street Soldier.”

I smiled at the thought of him even knowing me. Didn't matter if it was bad or good; I didn't give a fuck.

“So, what's been shakin' so far with this Hell House thing? I see that Grey Poupon-eatin' nigga out there lookin' like he got beef with some people. I hope not with you.”

“I don't know what's up with that fool, but any man that angry ain't got nothin' but women problems. I'mma keep out of his way because I may have to shank him for steppin' to me the wrong way.”

“Straight up?” I said with my back against the door. Roc seemed
down-to-earth, but too bad I was going to have to snake his ass to win this money.

“Where the weed at?” he asked.

“What weed?”

“Fool, don't play. You got this bathroom lit up. That shit you got assaultin' my nostrils in a good way.”

I hesitated, but pulled the blunt and lighter from my pocket, giving them to him. He lit the joint, inhaled the smoke and sat on the toilet.

“Ahh,” he said. His eyes watered after the first hit and he damn near choked on the smoke. “Dis' shit is the truth! Where did you get it from?”

“I never reveal my sources, but if you ever need some more, come see me.”

Roc nodded and continued to hit the joint. “So, what's the plan, Street Soldier? You know damn well that you ain't gon' be able to knock me out of this competition, right? We come from the same streets and we know how to play the game, instead of allowin' it to play us.”

“I feel you on that, but I do intend to be the last man standin'. By any means necessary, you will have to go.”

Roc laughed and gave the joint to me. “I like you, Prince, but this competition you will not win. You may as well pack it up and head back to your mama while you got a chance.”

Roc left the bathroom, leaving my heart aching as I thought about mama. Why did she have to leave me like that? It was because of her that I'd had so many setbacks in my life, but I still loved her. I wanted the best for her, but I got tired of injecting myself into fights with her men. One day, somebody was going to get killed. All I could do was hope that when that day came, it wouldn't be me.

Jeff took our cell phones, jetted, and, now, Hell House was in full swing. Chase was in the bedroom hanging up her clothes, Sylvia was on the computer, and per the schedule it was Jada's turn to cook. She was in the kitchen whipping up a late dinner for us. She bitched about being the first one on the schedule, but in this crib, we didn't have many choices. If you didn't play by the rules you were ass out.

Jaylin, Prince and I were still in the living room watching football games, but none of us had said much to each other. I figured Jaylin was still
swoll
about the incident with Chase all over me, but I didn't give a damn about that freak. I wasn't the type of brotha to beef with no nigga over a broad like her, especially if her name wasn't Desa Rae. I was already missing my baby, even though she had some funny-ass ways. Maybe it was the difference in our ages, but after years together that shouldn't even matter anymore. I wasn't going to sweat it because whatever happened in this house, stayed in this house. None of this was coming home with me—I'd make sure of that.

Jaylin had gotten up to go into the kitchen to see what Jada was up to. He was watching her cook our food like a hawk, and on a for real tip, I didn't blame him. I laughed when I heard him complaining about how much salt she was shaking into the boiling
water. They had started to get into this playful mode with each other and it was kind of interesting. Either he was joking with her or he was attracted to her. I was sure to ask him later.

“Am I doin' this or you?” Jada snapped. “Instead of worryin' yourself about how much salt I'm puttin' into the food, you need to go on back over there and watch the game.”

“I'll watch the game, after I get done watching you. Cool out on the fucking salt before that shit kills us.”

“Look, fool. As tight as your body is, all you gotta do is add another ten or fifteen more minutes to your workout. A little extra salt ain't gon' kill you.”

“You're a bigger idiot than I thought, especially if you believe that adding all that salt to food will not kill you. I'm gon' keep my mouth shut, but when that ass laid up in a casket somewhere, don't be wishing you had listened to me.”