Salty: A Ghetto Soap Opera (Drama In The Hood) (12 page)

BOOK: Salty: A Ghetto Soap Opera (Drama In The Hood)
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"Well, take ol' girl from the studio. I'm good. Now if you will excuse me."

 

To let him know that there was no hard feelings, she punched him on the arm, smiled and ran up the stairs.

 

Although it would have been so grand to go see her favorite team play, she was not trying to go there with Diesel.

 

"Jazz." He called out.

 

She stopped at the top step.

 

"What’s up?”                                   

 

Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks played from his phone
. …

 

Unfucking believable!!!! Diesel thought when his phone rang.

 


Nice ring tone.” Jazz said and went on about her business.

 

Diesel cursed himself for allowing his homey boy to set his ring tone with that shit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whatever comes into this house belongs to me. So what I took it. Love to hate me, Mommy.

 

Chapter 8

 

Yay was ticked off. She knew her mother was scandalous, but she couldn't believe she did some punk ass shit like that. How about Peter and Ken was some real ass niggas? Her mom could have got her killed for the stunt she pulled.
People are going to stop taking me for a joke. What is this test Yay-Yay week? First, the white bitch at the club pulled that little stunt. Jazz call herself checking me and refusing my calls. And then this bitch going to come in my room and steal somebody else’s shit.
The sounds of keys at the front door knocked Yay out of her trance.
Here comes the pill-head bitch.
  She was referring to her mother. Her mother was not in the door good before Yay screamed on her.

 

 
"What's this?" Yay held up the note she left about taking the pills.

 

"What it say?" Her mother said, walking into the kitchen.

 

"You a dirty bitch."

 

Her mother cracked a smile.

 

"Who you think you get it from?" She said.

 

"I hope you die off them."

 

"If I do you won't get shit. Jazz is the beneficiary." Her mother teased.

 

She was lying. Jazz nor Yay or her sister was the beneficiary. Her first love is. If she died before him, he would know how much she really loved him and maybe then he will feel guilty about the way he had done her. Yes, she loved a man more than her own child. That’s because she feels that Yay is the reason he stopped messing with her. If she would have had the abortion like he asked her to, he wouldn’t have cut her completely out of his life.

 

Yay-Yay walked in her bedroom and slammed the door. She hated her mother as much as her mother hated her. Far as she could remember, her mother always treated her like she was a mistake.  The only time she acted like she cared was when her aunt and uncle, Jazz’s parents, where around. That’s probably because she knew her aunt would get off in her ass for treating her such a way. She probably wanted to front for her sister’s husband, like she was a loving and caring parent. Yay couldn't wait to snag a baller so she could move out that muthafucka.
That bitch going to miss me when I'm gone. Who the fuck going to help pay for her pills then? Who she going to come crying to when she having a withdrawal? Talking about her house… I'm the one that pays for damn near everything in this muthafucka. That bullshit CNA job barely paying her truck note.

 


I hate her...” Yay-Yay screamed.

 

She thought about calling Pam, but assumed that she would be babying Jazz. She was sure Jazz cried on her shoulders about what she told her happened between Peter and Sabrina.
After I stack this money
,
I got to get the fuck up out of here.
She snatched her cell phone off her bed and called her home girl, Paris. 

 

"Sup, Delicious?" Pam asked.

 

"You still going to ol' boy’s party tonight?"

 

"Yep. As long as you driving. I'm trying to get fucked up. No drinking and driving for me."

 

 
Yay-Yay told her that she would drive and to be ready within the next hour.

 

"Have a fat blunt and some drink when I get there." Yay said before she ended the call.  

 

 
Yay sat there for a minute thinking about what she wanted to wear. She decided to go casual, but sexy. She took out a pair of purple skinny jeans, a white low cut silk shirt with the back out, and a pair of stilettos. There wasn't a need to take out panties or a bra, she would not be wearing neither. She got her towel and went down the hallway to go shower. After she got out the shower she applied some leave-in conditioner in her hair to give it a wet look. She then dried off, wrapped her towel around her and left out the bathroom. When she got in her room, she dropped her towel, walked over to the dresser, grabbed the Nivea lotion and then walked back over and sat on the bed and began to lotion her body. After she put lotion on her body, she reached over to grab her shirt and that's when she noticed a piece of mail that read, "Past Due."

 


I'm not paying shit!” She screamed looking at the cable bill.

 

"Oh bitch you going to pay it." Her mother yelled back at her as she walked passed Yay’s room to her room.

 

"No, I'm not. You better pay it out the money you made from stealing my shit."

 

Yay got up off the bed and walked over to her room door and snatched it open.

 

"Or did you take them? You fucking pill-head."

 

"I’d rather be a pill-head than a sloppy pussy ho. You fucked about fifty niggas. I saw your diary."

 

"Fuck you, fatal attraction bitch. It was just a fuck. He don't want you. Now, I saw your diary."

 

Her mother ran out from her bedroom and into Yay’s room. They were face to face.

 


No, bitch you ran him off.” She told Yay. "You shouldn't have been born."

 

That stung. Yay’s feelings were hurt, but she would never show it.

 


Who is this nigga? Please tell me so I can beg him to come back and get your pill-head ass, and take you wherever the fuck he been hiding. I promise I’ll be just like him and won’t think twice about your crazy ass."

 

Yay looked her mother up and down with pity.

 

"Who the hell wants a pill-head to call their own.” She said and chuckled.

 

"Watch your mouth before I fuck you up." Her mother warned.

 

"Fuck you. Now please get out my room; I have shit to do." Yay said.

 

"You disrespectful bitch." She said and slapped Yay.

 

Out of reflex, Yay slapped her back. It was not the first time her mother slapped her but it was the first time Yay hit her back. Her mother was in shock.  The feeling Yay got out of hitting her mother gave her a rush, so she hit her again. This time she punched her in the nose causing her head to fall back. That’s when the cat fight began. They were scratching and pulling hair. Kicking and cursing. After about two minutes, they both were tired. Yay stopped. Yay’s mom walked back to her room. Yay immediately walked over to the mirror to exam her face. She had a few red marks on her face, but nothing a little make-up couldn't cover. I should fuck her up she said when she saw the long scare on her right breast.        

 

 

 

****************

 

Close to an hour later, Yay was dressed and pulling out of her parking spot. The weather was warm so she rolled with the sunroof up allowing the warm summer breeze to roam throughout her car. Yay’s first stop was to pick up her home girl, P in Watts and then they were headed to Compton. When she got to P’s house, Yay got out to go inside. Paris had a blunt and a glass of Patron waiting. After they smoked their blunt and finished a glass of Patron, the two divas were ready to head to the function on the West Side of Compton. The effects from the blunt and liquor put Yay in a way better mood. She was in so much of a good mood that she didn't even trip about the fact that the party was at a house; well a mini mansion.  Later Yay found out that a doctor (RIP, Dr. Chavez) used to live there, but after he was killed, his folks started renting the spot out for different events.

 

It was so freaking crowded that Yay had to park across the street in the park; even then, she had to create her own parking spot behind another car on the grass. I hope they don't tow my shit, Yay thought as she and Paris got out the car.

 

"Bitch you know I don't do house parties. But-"

 

Paris cut her off. "It’s a mansion party. Now put your baller radar on and let's snag us one with paper."

 

"Okayyyy…" Yay said and hit her hand to agree.

 

The two divas walked across the street and into the gate of the mansion. The guard that invited Paris spotted the dark brown, curvy, freaky stripper at the gate. He smiled and radioed the front gate guard to let her in. Once she and Yay were in the gate and up the steps that lead to the entrance of the mansion, the guard walked over.  He greeted her with a kiss and thanked her for coming and whispered in her ear.  She smiled and thanked him for inviting her. He had crush on P and was hoping that his courtesy will get him some play. He knew his looks and small bank roll wouldn't get a sexy gold digging dime like that.

 

 
"Where's your boss?" P asked. That was her way of letting him know that she was not interested in small money. She wanted his boss is the owner of Chump Change production.

 

"He’s out of town. He don't fuck with shit like this." 

 

"Oh. Well this is my girl, Delicious, who I'm sure you know from the club."

 

He nodded to say yes.
Damn he a big black ugly nigga. Yay thought.
She then gave him a fake smile. Her smile became real when she noticed the famous, Suge Knight, the founder and CEO of Black Kapital Records and co-founder and former CEO of Death Row Records. He was standing by the waterfall talking with another dude that looked like money.

 

"Bitch, that's Suge?" Yay questioned.

 

"Sure is. Come on."

 

Paris grabbed her by the hand and they headed toward Suge’s direction.

 

Yay’s mission was delayed when she was pulled back by someone;

 

"What you doing in my hood?" The dude asked.

 

Yay was ready to snap on the fool until she looked up at him and noticed it was Wack.

 

"Boy, get your hands off me."

 

"You better watch your mouth. Call me Wack or Daddy. Keep boy out cha mouth when you talking to me."

 

"Delicious. You know him?

 

"P did a double take.

 

"Ain't that White-Girl’s dude? Pimp?"

 

Wack mean mugged Paris for about 30 seconds before she turned her head.

 

"Don't be looking at her like that." Yay said with a fake attitude.

 

"Wack pulled Yay into his arms and began rubbing on her ass.

 

"Excuse you." Yay tried to move his hands.

 

"You know you like that, now stop playing." Wack told her. "I need to talk to you about something. You wanna make some money?"

 

"Delicious, you straight?" Paris asked.

 

She could tell Yay was feeling the nigga. Not just by the way she was unsuccessful with acting like she didn't like him. Shit, Yay talked about how she'll snatch him up from his white bitch whenever he came to the club, but she had to ask.

 

"Gone and do you." Wack told Paris. When Yay didn't say nothing, Paris walked off cursing to herself because she missed Suge.

 

 

 

Part 2

 

 

 

                                        
Chapter 9

 

"Yay-Yay"

 

It's been two weeks since I ran into Wack at the party over in

 

Compton. Tell me why am I feeling this dude and he knows it? Ugh.... I can't stand him, but I am so into him, I mean, the way he walks, he has that cool ass gangster swag. And that “I ain't to be fucked with” disposition just puts the icing on the cake. I like the way he takes control over everything. He say shit like, “Aye, Delicious, put some fly shit on and come scoop a nigga. I wanna show you off.” Before I can even contest, he finalizes it with, “Be here in an hour. If you are going to be late then don't bother to come!” Like, damn nigga. Like that? If I did have the guts to say something like that he would be like, “yup like that.” Oh and don' t let me be talking shit. Y'all know I have a smart mouth. Wack do not play that. He will check my ass in a heartbeat. His favorite line, well one that he uses often is, “watch your muthafucking mouth, before I pop you in it.” I know he ain’t going to do shit. I be damn if I let a nigga hit on me, but I do shut up because I don’t feel like hearing his mouth. That nigga is too much, that’s why I can see how he would have a weak bitch’s mind. That whit girl from the club he fuck with, she ain't nothing to him, but trailer park trash. He took her in when she moved down to L.A., she didn't have a place to go. He claimed his homeboy introduced them. He did admit although she is not his girl, and neither am I, that he did fuck the bitch from time to time. What nigga wouldn’t? She ain't ugly. Plus, it’s easy access; she does live with him. He said that he don’t be fucking her like that because her hustle was not only stripping but fucking for money.  I knew she was a ho. I asked him if she sells pussy why don’t she have her own spot. And if she wasn’t his girl why was he picking her up and dropping her off at the club.

BOOK: Salty: A Ghetto Soap Opera (Drama In The Hood)
7.47Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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