Nasty Girls (32 page)

I started down the block with a smile on my face, and for the first time, I wasn't worried about James, Tasha, or bumping into some drama. Yo, I was so done with that, that I wanted to put it behind me and start my new day right.
Today, I begin a completely new life for myself,
I thought.

As I was walking down 160th Street with my destination on my mind, I noticed Tasha up the block. I thought nothing about it. I wasn't even going to start beefing with her. In fact, I was willing to let shit be and tell her that I wasn't stressing her and James anymore. She can have the nigga. Let her deal with the bullshit, abuse, and his fucked-up attitude. I was doing me, and I ain't got the time for it anymore.

Tasha continued to approach me, dressed down in a black puffy Sean John coat and, as usual, her face scowling at me. My smile faded, but I wasn't starting nothing. I was just being cautious, and I wasn't going to say a word to her. I was just going to quickly walk by her, and keep my mouth shut, not acknowledging her at all. I figured it would be better that way. I didn't want to utter something and have her take it the wrong way.

She was a few feet away from me when I noticed her pull something from her coat, and I saw a black object gripped in her hand. She took a few more steps toward me and raised her arm up at me, and that's when I noticed she had a gun in her hand. I became bug-eyed, and before I could react, a loud shot went off.

Pop!

“What now, bitch! You ain't talkin' that shit out your mouth, now, huh!” Tasha shouted.

I fell back, smashing against the cold concrete and landing on my side. I knew I was hit, but didn't know where at. Majority of my body suddenly felt numb. I tried to get up, but—
pop
—I was hit again.

I screamed out in agony as my body lay limp against the concrete. I became scared as I stared up at Tasha—looking up at death. I heard people screaming around me, and wished I could wake up from this horrible nightmare.

“Fuck you, ho! Don't you ever fuckin' disrespect me again,” she chided, with no remorse for her sudden action. I watched her take off running as she left me there to die.

“Oh, God!” I cried out.

After Tasha fled, people slowly started to gather around me, peering down at me like I was some science project. I didn't want to die. I couldn't die. Casey. Shy. Camille. I thought to myself,
Today, I begin a completely new life. Today, I become a brand-new woman. Today, I—

T
he loud
bang, bang, bang,
at my door was followed by the constant ringing of my fucking doorbell. I swear, whoever was at my door acting a fool was about to hear my mouth go off at them.

I hurried to my door, ready to curse some fool out. I opened it and saw Melinda, this seventeen-year-old high-school student who lived up the block by Shy and Jade. She looked like she'd been running as she stood in front of me, breathing heavily, with this gloomy look plastered across her face.

“Camille—yo—”

“What you want, Melinda?” I asked, a bit annoyed that she was banging on my door like she ain't had no damn sense.

“Jade got shot!” she blurted.

“What?” I was shocked. “Jade? What you talkin' about?” I swear it felt like I was having a panic attack. My chest tightened, and it felt like I was about to pass out. Not Jade. Melinda got it twisted, I thought.

“Tasha. She shot Jade, Camille. I think she's dead.”

I heard nothing else as I rushed by Melinda dressed only in
some jeans, slippers, and a light T-shirt. It had to be forty-something degrees outside. But the weather had no effect on me as I dashed out the lobby with no coat, no hat, nothing, and rushed up the block where I saw flashing police lights, an ambulance, and a crowd of people gathered around.

I ran like a madwoman to the scene. I didn't want to believe it. Not Jade. Nah, I know this bitch Tasha ain't take it this far—nah, nah, nah.

When I arrived, I peered over where the sprawled body lay covered in a white sheet against the cold ground. I stared at the scene. My eyes trickling tears down my face. I didn't believe it. Not until I saw her, it wasn't true. My girl ain't dead.

I noticed some of the local residents peering at me with the saddest gaze across their face. The way they looked at me, and when Mrs. Robinson came over and threw her arm around me and gave her condolences, saying, “Camille, I'm sorry,” I fucking lost it.

“Nooo! fuck! . . . Nah, nah! She ain't dead! Jade! Fuck this! Fuck, yo! What the fuck!”

I felt Mrs. Robinson arms tighten around me as I cried out. I collapsed down to the floor, and Mrs. Robinson still gripped me tightly in her arms.

“Where that bitch at?” I demanded to know, with fury and vengeance embedded in my eyes.

No one answered me. I became so enraged that I sprung myself from Mrs. Robinson arms and was about ready to hunt Tasha the fuck down.

My homegirl was dead and gone, and I swear to her death, James, Tasha, and whoever else was involved were going to feel my wrath.

I glanced across the street and noticed Casey slumped over the hood of a police car, and it looked like he was crying. I didn't go over to him; I was hurting my damn self. I knew I had to call her cousin Shana and let her know what happened. And Shy, I didn't see her around. I had to break the news to her too. I wanted to be strong and hold myself together, but the pain was too much for me to bear. Seeing Jade's body covered in a white sheet and spread out on the ground like that almost made me go fucking crazy out this bitch. I was ready to flip on anyone, even Mrs. Robinson—I wanted payback.

 

T
wo hours later, Shana and her friends Sasha and Naja came around beefing and ready to wild the fuck out. I was with them, and whatever went down, I was in 100 percent.

“Camille, who shot my fuckin' cousin?” she snapped, looking at me with tear-streaked eyes. Her head was wrapped in a blue scarf, and she wore a heavy blue coat and gripped a small knife in her hand.

“That bitch, Tasha!” I told her.

“Where that bitch at?”

“I don't know, but her dyke cousin live over on Union Hall Street,” I mentioned.

“Fuck that! We gonna see that bitch!” Shana shouted, and her and her posse marched over to Union Hall Street to see Dee. I know Dee knew where Tasha was at. They were cousins, and they were close. If Tasha had any beef, she would instantly go check her cousin.

I followed behind Shana and them, and we got to Dee's crib shortly, and already the drama was about to pop off. Tasha
and Dee's people were outside, because they knew we were coming. There were about six of 'em—male and female—and when we approached, this older-looking lady shouted, “Y'all bitches better leave from my crib! I ain't fuckin' joking, Tasha ain't here!”

“Fuck that—let me see that bitch!” Shana shouted. “I know y'all hiding that bitch! She shot my fuckin' cousin!”

“Fuck you, bitch. . . . Don't be comin' up to my grandmother's crib beefin'!” Dee barked.

“What, bitch?” I heard Sasha snap back. “You better step the fuck back, you Big Bird–lookin' bitch!”

“Fuck you!”

“Yo, tell Tasha to stop fuckin' hiding. Let me see that bitch!” I shouted, getting in the mix of things.

“Yo, y'all bitches better move!” this one cornball-looking nigga shouted, wearing tight sweats and a tight hoodie.

“Nigga, what!”

“Fuck y'all.”

Everyone was shouting at each other, and I knew that at any moment, somebody was going to take it to the next level. I was boiling mad and glared at everyone on Dee's porch. If looks could kill, they all would be dead.

A crowd started to assemble around on the block, watching Shana, myself, and her clique beefing with Tasha's fuckin' family. But no one intervene, because they knew what went down earlier with my girl Jade, and I guess they knew payback was coming sooner or later.

When I suddenly heard Dee shout, “Fuck that bitch, Jade,” I abruptly snapped and picked up a brick, rushed over to Dee, and
smashed her across the fucking head with it, dropping that bitch to the ground. Fuck that—it was on.

Shana and everyone else rushed at the family, and we all started brawling. Tasha's grandma hurried in the house while the rest of her family tried to stand ground and fight us. I grabbed another cousin and tore into her like I was a fucking savage. She fell to the floor, and I stomped, kicked, and beat the shit outta her, turning her face into a crimson color.

“Y'all disrespect my girl like dat, huh. . . . Y'all fuckin' crazy!” I screamed.

“Ahhhh, that fuckin' bitch stabbed me!” I looked over, and it was Dee clutching her gut as blood seeped through her clothing.

“Fuck that, bitch!” Shana shouted.

Moments later, police began swarming the block, with their lights blaring and flashing. They rushed from their cars and quickly began trying to regain order out this bitch.

I went nowhere. I just stood there with my clothes torn, my anger still seething, and still mourning from the lost of Jade.

An hour later, I sat in the 103rd Precinct next to Shana and Naja. We all were handcuffed to a chair. We all were quiet. I guess after all the drama and our adrenaline faded away, we finally came to the realization that Jade was gone. She was no longer with us. And I started tearing up as I started reminiscing about her. Tears ran down my cheeks when I thought why it had to end this way. She was happy. She was moving on.

Casey entered the room and he stared at me. He had a somber look on his face. I didn't say a word to him. I just continued to sit there being lost in my thoughts.

“Camille, right?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” I muttered back.

“Can we talk?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess so. I'm cuffed to this chair, though.”

He came over, pulled out a set of keys, and quickly unlocked the cuffs. I stood up, soothing my wrist a bit, because the dick-head cop that put them on clamped them on too tight.

I followed him to a back room, where he shut the door and sat on a desk. I remained standing, peering around, and wondered what he wanted me for.

His eyes watched me and then he began with, “You knew her fo' a long time, right?”

“Yeah. We grew up together.”

“I never fell in love with a woman so quickly. But Jade, she was different,” he admitted. “I just wanted to talk to her best friend. We met briefly at her apartment. I'm sorry,” he uttered, his voice trailing off in sorrow.

“What about Tasha? Y'all lookin' for that bitch, right?”

“We got cops knockin' down doors fo' her killer,” he said.

“She really liked you,” I told him. “And I liked you. You were definitely an improvement from her last boyfriend. She was happy wit' you.”

A faint smile loomed on his face, and then it quickly disappeared as he broke down into tears. “Oh, God!” he cried. “I was supposed to protect her. I was supposed to be there fo' her. I promised her that she was safe with me. I feel like I let her down.”

“You were there fo' her. You gave her happiness. You made her smile again. If it means anything to you, it's good to know
that she spent her last days happy and knowin' you were there fo' her.”

He nodded.

“What's goin' to happen to her cousin, and the rest?” I asked.

“Shana, they might charge her wit' assault and attempted murder. But you're free to go. Go home and get some rest.”

“I'll try.”

I walked out the room, leaving Casey behind to ponder about Jade and his relationship. He knew her fo' a short while, and already he missed her as much as I was missing her now.

I passed by Shana, Naja, and Sasha and never uttered a word. Shana glanced up at me with her tearstained face and nodded her head slightly at me.

I walked out of the 103rd Precinct and never looked back.

I caught up with Shy at her apartment earlier that evening, and when she answered her door, I already knew she heard about Jade's death. She broke down, collapsing in my arms, howling loudly.

“What happened?” she muttered.

I didn't even respond to her. I was just quiet. The day felt gray, and I felt so empty. It felt like a part of me was missing. A part of me had died. I remained with Shy throughout the day. My eyes stayed watery, and I still couldn't grasp that Jade was gone—taken away from us so abruptly. These projects, all they do is cause pain and suffering. No life came from here, just hurt, constant drama, and those who envy and hate.

 

 

T
he night was quiet as Cream sat patiently in his parked burgundy Denali peering out at the projects—looking at stillness on a cold December night. Camille had called him the day Jade was murdered, and she was distraught. He came by that night to console her. He met Jade a few times, and she was a cool shorty. Pretty too. It was fucked up what happened to her. Camille told Cream about everything that went down and what was going on. She broke down to him and brought up the attack in the elevator after he done dropped her off. She brought up Shy, and how James got her girl hooked on crack, fucked over his best friend, setting his ass up, and she also mentioned how James had Jade killed. If it wasn't for him and his infidelity, Jade would have still been alive.

Cream thought,
Damn, how one nigga can cause so much drama and turmoil in the hood?
He thought if he didn't have to kill him, maybe he could have some use for him. But he disregarded the sickening thought from his mind and focused back to business. He knew a nigga like James had to go. He had no respect, no
morals for himself and the game they played. And plus, he had gone after Camille, put his hands on his woman, and was preventing her from leaving for Cali with him. So the nigga had to go.