Hood Misfits, Volume 1 (3 page)

“A'ight, Big Jake,” I threw at him, still laughing, “hit you up later.”

My eyes locked on the closet where I heard pleading, screaming, and clawing. Shit had nothing to do with me, so I kept it trill and walked out.

 

 

Hours later, I walked back to the crib dressed in dark sagging jeans, tan Tims, and a black leather and jean hoodie with a black tee underneath it. The streets were hyped about my big day. Honestly, I didn't care, but it was dope to see Dame's place spilling with pussy and people from all over simply for my birthday. I wasn't allowed to deal in Dame's crib, so I couldn't look at any of these cats as money for the night. That was one fucked-up thing about it.

“Hey, Trigga,” several sweet female voices said around me.

I rubbed my chin and licked my lips as my eyes ran over curve-hugging leggings that left a plump pussy-print then upward toward titties that made me want to touch. I tilted my chin up, and shawties surrounded me, crooking their fingers for me to bend down so they could press their pillow-soft lips on my cheeks. My dimples settled in my cheeks, causing more pussy to surround me. Of course, a nigga was in heaven right then.

Hands played in my shoulder-length locks, running over my chests, and some even slipped into my sagging jeans to feel how much of a man I was. Dropping my hands over asses aplenty, I smelled wet pussy the moment they learned my dick game was on ten.

“Ohhh, happy birthday, Trigga! You gonna come get some of this pussy, huh?” one of the chicks asked.

As I smirked, Dame appeared behind me and said, “Later. Let this little nigga get into the party first.”

If anybody was a pretty boy, it was that nigga—light bright damn-near white nigga with light eyes that always had chicks on some swooning shit. Bitches had no idea what they were getting themselves into when they flocked to that nigga. Everyone stepped away from me and went to him, giggling and flirting, flipping their hair and laying kisses on his lips and cheeks.

“You ready for all this pussy around here, li'l nigga?” Dame asked.

Like I said, I was a selective talker, so I nodded, rubbing my hands together, and gave a smirk, which Dame understood as gloating.

“A'ight then, li'l nigga, quit talking wit' ya chest and enjoy this party. Hit me up in five so you can get inked and your dick sucked.” Dame laughed, slapping the pretty asses around him.

Dame didn't give a damn about nothing but his, and I had to respect it. But a lot of his mannerism just didn't make sense to me. At times he could get real stupid over pussy and product, but that was the game.

I moved through the dancing bodies in the house. Everyone was grinding, groping, and probably fuckin', thanks to the product and liquid running through, and all of it was for me, but really in the name of Dame.

As I got deeper into the house, I walked past the closet that shawty was in. I wondered what he had done with her, if she got popped or not. Either way, she wasn't in the closet anymore.

Music thumped around me, and I bobbed my head to the tunes while grinding up on two women. Everyone who knew me knew not to offer me any product or drink. I always kept a level head in this game and never dove into using my own shit. Just another OG rule I knew I never wanted to break. Which was why I always had my own weed. I lit up and let the broads around me get kush off of it.

Time passed and everything was icing. The crew niggas grabbed me up and took me upstairs, where I sat down with Starry, the baddest tattooist in the game, and one of Dame's former bitches. Baby had the look of Blac Chyna, but with black hair. She sat on her knees, a pillow under her, waiting on me, dressed in only a red thong and bra that pushed up her caramel titties. No lie, her plump lips made my dick hard as some of her chicks led me into the room. I saw Dame nod and then walk out the bedroom closing the door as I was stripped naked and sat on the bed. Bad bitches surrounded me and I let Starry know what I wanted, which she digged. Pulling out a drawing I did, she glanced at it once, before having me lean back on the bed.

With pussy surrounding me left and right, my shit sprung up rigid hard, only to get swallowed and throated. Any tension I had melted away with the kush I'd inhaled and with my dick being swallowed then dunked into the finest pussy in the game. The sound of the tattoo gun on my wrists then forearms had me in purple haze as sex scented the air and, “
Ohhh
, Trigga . . .” flooded my ears.

When I opened my eyes, the room started to spin. I knew I was no longer in a closet because there was light. The bed I was laying on was soft, almost like a cloud. The lower part of my back hurt from where that nigga had put his knee, and my neck hurt from that big burly grizzly bear-looking nigga sending me head first into the wall. Shit, my whole body hurt.

I could hear music and feel the bass thumping from the speakers. The first thing I would have done was try to run away, but I couldn't even sit up straight. Where was I? How would I get away? I couldn't front like a bitch wasn't terrified. I was so scared, I was shaking, but when I realized I was only in my bra and panties, my senses quickly came together.

I jumped up from the bed and grabbed between my legs like I had a dick. Everything felt normal. I didn't want to be raped or none of that shit. I didn't want a nigga's dick in me who I didn't know shit about. I looked around the room in a panic. It wasn't what I was expecting. The marble floors, decked-out bedroom suite, bay windows with attached balcony, and flowing sheer panels to the windows told me I was in place of money. The walls were cream colored and trimmed in gold, and an expensive-looking rug lay at the foot of the bed.

I did notice the room had another queen-sized bed in there. That was how big it was. To the left was a big walk-in closet. I knew that because someone had left the door open. There were all kinds of expensive shit in there—clothes, shoes, purses, belts, lace-front wigs. There was another closed door. I could hear two people behind it oohing and aahing; it sounded like they were having sex.

I could hear chicks in the next room screaming out something about Trigga, the muthafucka who had knocked me out. He was on my hit list. I'd kill his ass too. Just like I was going to kill the muthafucka with the deep, raspy voice. And I was going to murk whoever the fuck Dame was.

Yeah, my mama and daddy were foul as fuck in their dealings, but they'd sheltered me from the shit most times. Other times, I made myself disappear, reading a book or jumping ahead in my homework studies. My daddy always told me keep my head in my books and out their business. Which was what I did.

As I thought about my mama and my daddy, my fear was replaced with anger. I dropped my weak body back down to the bed and placed my head between my legs. The tears started, and they wouldn't stop. I cried loudly and didn't care who heard me. I didn't think they could hear me over the loud-ass music anyway.

“Oh shit,” a female's voice said after I heard the bathroom door swing open.

“What?” a male's voice asked.

“This new bitch is up. Dame wanted me to make sure she bathed and put some clothes on. You know that nigga like his new pussy fresh for him,” the woman said.

“But I ain't even bus' yet.”

“Nigga, put ya dick away and get the fuck out. Let me handle daddy's business, or else I'ma tell 'im you dipping and ain't tipping.”

The dude sucked his lips and grumbled something about her playing with his dick later.

I slowly lifted my head and took in the woman, who looked older than me. Light-skin with a long blonde weave that hung down her back, she had an abundance of ass, but not nearly enough titties. She looked like a stripper. The red leather catsuit she had on hugged her pussy and made it sit out like a moose knuckle. Her berry-colored lips were plush, and her makeup was done like she was prepping for a photo shoot or some shit. I could tell she had blue contacts in her almond-shaped eyes. She was pretty, and when she smiled at me, I almost felt safe. Almost. But I knew this game. A smiling face could mean your death around these parts.

The dude stumbled from the bathroom wiping white powder from his nose. He then turned a bottle of Henny to his ashy black lips. That nigga was straight-up ugly. The nappy twists on top of his head looked like dried worms. He cut his bloodshot eyes over at me.

“Damn, Sasha. Who dat?” he asked, motioning his head my way.

“Don't worry about it, nigga,” Sasha snapped. “Now get the fuck out before Dame has Trigga body you.”

“You saying that shit like a nigga scared of Trigga or some shit. That nigga can get got just like any other muthafucka. He ain't invincible.”

Sasha rolled her eyes and then turned to snatch the door open, shoving whoever he was out the heavy mahogany door.

“Stupid niggas.” She sucked her teeth. “Anyway, bitch, get up and follow me to the bathroom.”

She started to walk back to where her and leather lips had come from, like she hadn't just called me a bitch.

“My name is Ray-Ray.”

She scoffed then jerked her head back like she had been slapped. “I don't give a fuck what your name is, bitch! Get yo' black ass in here so you can shower. By the time Dame and them niggas get finish wit' yo' ass, yo' name gon' be whatever the fuck he want it to be anyway.”

I stood with my fist balled. At this point, I no longer gave a damn where I was or who she was. I wasn't gonna be anybody's bitch. “Call me a bitch again,” I dared her.

She dropped her folded arms and tilted her head to the side with a smirk that said she was amused or maybe she thought me to be a joke.

She smacked her lips, rolled her eyes, and chuckled. “It's always you new young hoes that gotta make a bitch show her hand.”

I didn't say anything as we stared one another down. All I could think about was that I was in a new place and alone. I had nobody, so it was me against the world. Daddy may have babied me most times, but when he did school me on fighting, he always taught me to attack before being attacked. I already knew I had to fight. I had to let people know that I was no punk.

We played that staring game for a few more seconds before she shook her head and gave a
tsk
sound with her mouth.

She looked like she was going to go to the bathroom, and I made the mistake of taking my eyes off her. Next thing I knew, she yanked me by my hair and threw me on the floor. I kicked and swung back, but she had the upper hand. She straddled her big ass on me and started hammering me with closed fists back to back.

I brought both arms up to protect myself as best I could. I admit, for the most part, I was a little scared. I had even thought about just lying there and letting her beat me to death, but then, out of nowhere, I could have sworn I heard my mother in my ear.,
You better get up and get this black bitch off you. You don't let no bitch try to steal your beauty. This ugly-ass ho trying to fuck yo' face up because you the new competition. Get the fuck up and handle yo' shit, Ray-Ray.

I didn't know where my strength came from, but I screamed out, uncovered my face, and dug my nails so deep in that bitch's face that she yelled and fell back. When that ho fell over, I jumped up quick as ever and went to work on her face. I grabbed a fistful of her weave, yanked her head down, and started upper-cutting that bitch. I dragged her ass across the room, and every time she tried to get up, I yanked her head down harder. All I heard were her screams.

As I dragged her, I slipped and fell backwards on a table that I didn't see, sending lamps crashing to the floor. I kept her hair in my hand though, and then used my feet to kick her in the stomach to keep her from getting back on top of me, but she still got some hits in.

“Bitch, let my fuckin' hair go! I'ma kill you, ho!” she screamed.

By then the door had come flying open, and I could hear men and women yelling that a fight was going on.

“Oh shit. My nigga, we got us one,” a male yelled.

I could hear Trinidad James playing, but I was focused on keeping that big, tall Amazon bitch off of me.

“Fuck you, bitch!” I yelled back and kicked her in her stomach as I banged the back of her head.

She twisted and turned, trying to get her footing. One of her fists landed in my jaw, another in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, but I didn't let that bitch's weave go. I tried to yank that shit from the scalp.

“Ahahahahaha! Oh shit, Dame. Yo' bitches in here tearing it down, my nigga!”

There was that deep, raspy voice again. That broke my attention. I turned toward the door trying to see the man who had helped killed my parents. Big mistake. Sasha straddled me again and got a few good hits in my face, but I kept swinging on that ho. She tried to lean in to choke me, but I wasn't about to let her choke me out. I'd been knocked unconscious too many times already. As she leaned in, her almost nonexistent titty fell out. I latched on and bit down so hard I was sure I drew blood.

“Ahhhh! Ahhhh!” Sasha screamed. “This ho biting me. Dough Boy, come get this bitch.”

I kept biting, yanking her weave from the root, and she kept screaming and punching. Feet rushed into the room. I saw Timberland boots and the one with the raspy voice she'd called Dough Boy, who tried pulling her off me.

The guy in the Timberland boots came my way and snatched me up. By the time I saw the blade coming for my face, it was almost too late. As I threw my hands up, Dough Boy yanked Sasha back and the blade fell from her.

Since the one they called Trigga was the only one I'd seen in Timberland boots, I figured it was he who'd grabbed me. His hard body was pressed against my back.

My eyes trained on the blade that had fallen to the floor, I kicked and swung my elbows back and forth trying to get away from Trigga. I didn't even realize my bra had been ripped off. Sasha's blood was in my mouth, and blood also leaked from her face.

“Aye, li'l shawty, calm yo' ass down,” he said to me in a low growl.

It was the same tone of voice he'd used earlier. Something about the way he said those words chilled me, made me stop struggling against his hold. I believed he was the one that kept knocking me out before. I didn't want to be put to sleep again, not in this place.

He had a strong arm wrapped around my waist. I looked down at his wrists and saw a fresh tattoo. They looked like chains, slave chains. That nigga was weird. People had gathered in the room. More girls in different kinds of catsuits, but mostly red-and-white, filed in. Their outfits made them stand out from the rest of the half-naked women around.

When the girls in the catsuits all moved away and huddled into a corner with the look of fear in their eyes, I knew Dame was near.

His expensive shoes were the first things I saw. Then the cream-colored linen suit with the shirt open, showing his white wifebeater and chiseled chest. He was tall, at least six four, and light like Sasha. He was mixed with something. What? I didn't know. A low-cut Caesar with deep waves adorned his head, razor-shaped to perfection.

Hazel eyes cast a mean glare from me to Sasha and then from Sasha to me.

There was a grimace on his face that said he wasn't happy at all. The look was mean, evil, like he was about to snap and kill us both without hesitation.

The voices that had been loud just moments before were now so quiet, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

I could never say that he wasn't fine as hell because he was. Even to my young eyes. But there was a fear in the room, especially over those women huddled against the wall that said his good looks also came with ruthlessness.

“Sasha, what the fuck is going on in here?” Dame asked in a coarse voice.

“This li'l raggedy bitch you done brought in—”

Dame moved to stand in front of her quick as lightning. “You forget who the fuck you talking to?”

She swallowed and cast her glance down to the floor then back up at him, one hand over her exposed breasts.

“No, Daddy, I didn't,” she said, her voice much softer. “I was trying to get the new girl ready like you said and she attacked me.”

“I did not! You saggy-titty bitch!” I spat.

I didn't understand how a woman with hardly any titties had sagging ones. I could hear a few of the dudes laughing, looking from her chest to mine.

“Shut up!” Dame barked at me as he pointed.

I snapped back, “You shut up!”

Judging by the way the women by the wall widened their eyes, I could tell I'd said the wrong thing.

My reward? Trigga tossed me so hard over the bed, I fell to the floor and hit my head against another wall.

I heard a few chuckles from some niggas standing around. By the time, I opened my eyes to look up, Dame was coming toward me with a look on his face that almost made me piss myself. I knew if he was going to hit me, then I was going to feel it deep in my bones.

My eyes skirted between Dame and the blade. I was too far away now.

Trigga stopped him. “You got some bosses downstairs, right, Bossman. Don't let li'l shawty keep you away from your business. Take care of that later.”

The devil was in that man's eyes. Something in the way he glared at me told me I would pay for what I had said to him. One way or another I'd pay for my disrespect.

“Gina, get this bitch to another room,” Dame ordered. “Let's see if you can handle the simple task of getting her to shower and dress.”

A girl in a white catsuit came forward. She was timid. Like she was afraid to move the wrong way for fear of what Dame would do to her. Gina was almost as dark as me, and slim, and she had long braids down past her ass. She looked like she could be Kelly Rowland's twin sister. Her big doe-like eyes were wide as she chewed on her bottom lip.

She walked over and kneeled a little to help me. She whispered, “You gon' have to learn how to talk to him, or he's going to kill you.”

It was almost like her lips didn't move. I felt at ease with her. She was scared like me. Young like me too.

“Janay, call the doc and have him look at Sasha.” Dame scowled down at Sasha. “You still gon' make me my money tonight. You understand me?”