Street Divas (23 page)

“Damn, girl. Didn't you hear me calling you?”

“What the hell do you want, Dominic? I don't want niggas thinking we hang or nothing.”

“Damn. You're cold, girl.” He shook his head. “Where your nigga, Fat Ace, at?”

“Why?”

“ 'Cause he better not take his ass back down to the Mall of Memphis. Word is that the Gangster Disciples are rolling through to take their territory back.”

“Get the fuck out of here. That mall ain't been there in like three years. Where you hear that shit?”

“Up at the package store. I was getting my moms her Friday bottle of Crown Royal, and I overheard these niggas talking about how that new nigga they got running things is trying to make his mark.”

“What new nigga?”

“Sheeiiit.” Dominic frowned as he gripped his cock. “Where the fuck you been? That ugly muthafucka who always got a fucking snake wrapped around his neck or some dumb shit.” He leaned closer while I leaned back from his stank breath. “I even heard that he had his tongue surgically altered to look like a snake's tongue.”

I frowned. “You're lying.”

Dominic crossed his heart. “If I'm lying, I'm dying.”

“When are they supposed to be doing this?”

“Today!”

“Shit.” I glanced around. “We got to get over there!”

Dominic tossed up his hand. “I ain't got to do shit but stay black and die. I came over here to warn Big Man. If he's already gone up there, two tears in a bucket. You feel me?”

I reached out and grabbed this scary nigga by his ear. “I said we got to get over there and that's what the fuck I mean.”

“Ow. Ow. Ow.”

I looked around, tryna figure out what the fuck to do. Then it hit me. “C'mon.” Still holding on to his ear, I raced back to my house. “Stay here,” I told him. When his gaze darted around, I added, “You move and I'll hunt you down and carve you up into little pieces.”

His eyes grew wide as fuck because he knew I meant business.

I crept back into the house and for once was glad that Mom and Cousin Skeet had returned to her bedroom for another afternoon quickie. Momma is screaming “Oh God” while her headboard slammed against the wall. Despite that, I tiptoed to her purse that was sitting on the coffee table and pulled out her car keys. I was headed back to the door when another thought occurred to me. Turning around, I went over to the coat closet by the front door and retrieved the metal box in the back of the top shelf.

The minute I had my daddy's old gun in my hand, I felt this wonderful surge of power. This was my gun now. I knew at that moment that it had been waiting for me.

When I rushed back outside, Dominic was about to take one step off the porch.

“Where the fuck are you going?” I challenged.

“I . . . uh . . .” His eyes dropped to the gun in my hand. “Look. I'm sorry. I didn't think you were going to come back out.”

“Whatever, nigga. Get in the car.” I raced off the porch and headed to my momma's car.

“What?”

“You're working my nerves, Dominic. Get in.” I hopped in on the driver's side and jammed my momma's keys into the ignition.

“Do you even know how to drive?” he asked, getting in on the passenger side.

I started up the car. “How hard can it be?” I shifted into reverse and slammed my foot down on the accelerator, and the car jetted back so fast that I jerked the steering wheel and took out the mailbox.

“FUUUUUCK! ” Dominic roared.

“Oh, calm down. I got this.”

“Willow!” my momma screamed, clutching her robe and running out the front door. “What in the hell do you think you're doing?”

“Sorry, Mom. I'll be back.” I shifted into drive.

“Girl, you get back here!” She nearly reached the car before I slammed my foot back down on the accelerator and peeled off.

“Whoa, ho, ho,” Dominic said with his eyes growing bigger by the second. “Your ass is grass when you get back home.”

“What the hell ever. We have to get over to the mall and warn Fat Ace and Bishop.” I cut another corner and hug that muthafucka so tight I know niggas on the block got to be impressed.

“Girl, you wild. I'll give you that shit,” Dominic said, getting supped up. “Damn. You're my getaway driver if I ever decide to rob a bank.”

I blocked his silly ass out while I concentrated on floating out to the mall. I tried to calm myself down by rationalizing how much bullshit got shoveled around on the street. It was probably nothing but gossip. I could get over there and—

POW! POW! POW!

“Aw, shit!” Dominic grabbed the dashboard as I whipped into the parking lot.

Niggas scattered every which way as they returned fire toward a line of old-ass cars. I scanned the crowd, trying to find my brother and Mason.

“There they go!” Dominic pointed toward the corner of the Dillard's store, and once again, I jammed the accelerator all the way to the floorboard.

“Shit. You're driving straight into the line of fire!”

I ignored him and grabbed my daddy's Glock.

“Lucifer! Are you crazy?” His voice climbed into a bitch octave. “Lucifer!”

“Roll your fucking window down,” I yelled.

“What?” he screeched.

“Fuck it!” I aimed my gun at the passenger side window and then pumped two bullets into it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dominic freaked out.

A black car sped toward Mason and Juvon. I spotted at least three guns taking aim at them. “ALL IS ONE!” they yelled.

For a split second, I'm that little girl in the yellow dress again.

Mason saw them, too, and instantly tackled Juvon to the ground.

Bullets flew as I shake those old memories off and jetted up onto the sidewalk and directly into the black car's line of fire where I blast at the muthafuckas myself. I caught one nigga straight across his dome and watched him propel backward into the car. The nigga in the rear of the car ducked back into the car, but not before I caught sight of his ugly face.

“Goddamn.”

After our cars passed one another, I hung a hard right and spun the car around as that muthafucka popped back out of his window and started blasting again. I leaned out the driver's side window and started dumping again. Those grimy Gangster Disciples got the picture and took off.

This time I spun the car around and doubled back toward my people. I kicked up my own smoke when I slammed on the brakes. I kept my Glock clutched in my hand as I jumped out of the car. I'm scared as fuck at the amount of blood painting the sidewalk.

“JUVON! MASON!” I reached their huddled bodies and peeled Mason off of my brother.

Juvon was fine, but Mason's right eye was fucked up.

“What the hell happened?” Juvon asked, pulling himself off the concrete and looking dazed and confused.

“What you think? I saved y'all's asses. Now help me get Mason in the car.”

To Mason's credit, he ain't out here hollering like a bitch while he bled out, but at the same time, he looked as stunned as my brother.

Juvon jumped into action and helped me get Mason into the car. However, there was another surprise waiting for us. Slumped back against the passenger seat was Dominic, the light gone from his eyes.

 

 

“Yeah,” Mason says, bobbing his head while he still sat there on the ground. “You came through for us that day.”

I lifted my brows.

“Correction: You
always
come through. You always got my back. And you don't deserve me tryna bite your head off every time you turn around.” He sucks in a deep breath. “It's just . . . I feel so fucking guilty, you know? My ignorant ass was out in these damn streets, chasing after that fucking . . .” He stopped himself and drew in another deep breath. “I was supposed to be looking after Profit. He was my responsibility.”

“Look. It's hard out here—”

“Don't give me that shit. My name should've been enough to protect him, but instead that nigga Python came after me while his girl tried to take my lil brother out on the same night. This shit can't stand. The showdown between me and that nigga has been a long time coming.”

I can't let another I-told-you-so moment slip by. “I warned you. Like father, like daughter.”

“Yeah. You did.” He bobs his head and looks up at me. “You were right. You're always right.”

“Careful. You gonna give me a big head.”

He cocks his head. “Too late for that shit.”

We laugh as my cell goes off.

“Yeah?” I'm not sure I heard the caller right. “Say that shit again.”

Mason frowns up at me. “What?”

“All right. We're on our way.” I disconnect the call and then stare at the phone for another second.

“What? Don't leave me hanging.”

I look over at him. “It's Profit. He's awake.”

“R
ight there, baby. Right there. Momma's coming. Momma . . . ahhhh.” I clutch the back of Cedric's head and smash his face into my pool of pussy juice.

Even then, his tongue doesn't stop flicking and rotating. When I think I can't take any more, this nasty muthafucka thrusts two fingers into my ass, and I shoot off back-to-back orgasms and make sure that everybody on Shotgun Row hears. The aftershocks of that shit have me panting and trembling so hard that the entire bed shakes.

“You like that, baby?” Cedric mumbles around my pulsing clit.

A lazy smile eases across my lips while my eyes grow heavier than a muthafucka. “What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?”

“My bad.” He laughs as he climbs up my body, peppering kisses along the way.

For a brief moment, I think my ass is about to get a small break. Silly me. My ass should know by now that when it comes to pussy, Cedric is a fiend. Fuck. I'm starting to wonder if the muthafucka got batteries shoved up his ass. Some time later, I pass the fuck out. Hell, I don't even know if he was finished or not. I'm just gone, dreaming about getting used to this shit for the rest of my life.

Then in the dead of night, my eyes fly open.
What was that?

Glancing to my right, I verify that Cedric is passed out next to me, snoring.

Creak.

I bolt up in bed and instantly go for my .38 that I keep in the nightstand drawer next to the bed. “Cedric,” I hiss.

When this nigga doesn't move, I rock his shoulder. “Cedric, wake up. I think there's someone in the house.”

Creak.

“Huh? Hmm?”

“I said—Fuck it.” I peel the sheets off of my sweaty and sex-funked body and grab my prosthetic leg. The floorboards in the front of the house are creaking like a muthafucka by the time I slip into my robe and creep my way out of the bedroom. “These niggas gonna get tired of fucking around with me,” I threaten under my breath as I work my way toward the living room. Whoever these kids are in my house, I'm going to shoot first and ask questions later. Muthafuckas out here know that I don't play this jacking bullshit. I've worked too hard for my shit.

Something clangs in the kitchen, and then a second later my refrigerator door pops open. I take aim at the big nigga who's headlong into my fridge and then hit the light switch. “What the fuck?”

Python stands up, shoving the last of my pecan pie into his mouth.

“Nigga . . .” I roll my eyes and lower the gun. “Do you know how close you came to having a cap in your ass?”

He cocks a grin. “I missed you, too,” he mumbles, and resumes chomping on that piece of pie.

I frown and shove my gun into my robe pocket. “Don't talk with your mouth full.”

“Yes, ma'am,” he says, dropping crumbs all over my floor.

“Boy, sit your ass down.” I pull out a chair, and while he pops a squat, I grab plates and silverware and then pour two glasses of milk. “I don't know why you insist on acting like I didn't raise you with
some
home training.” I snatch a few sheets of paper towels while I'm at it.

“I take it that you're still mad?”

“Just because I'm still thinking about shooting your ass doesn't mean that I'm still mad.”

Python reaches for his glass of milk. “Good to know.”

I sweep my gaze over his face, and I feel a great deal of comfort at seeing him alive and well. “Where's the boy?”

“With LeShelle.”

“Oh God.” I roll my eyes.

“Don't be like that. She's doing all right with him.”

I fold my arms and shake my head because I ain't buying that bullshit. “You keep fucking up, Python.”

“Momma—”

“Don't,” I warn him. “I'm too old a cat for the fuckin' games.” Our eyes lock, and I swear to God I want to take him by his shoulders and shake some sense into his ass. “What are you doing here? You know the whole city is looking for you for . . .”

“Killing Melanie,” he finishes.

“For killing a cop. For killing Captain Johnson's daughter. If they catch you, that's the fuckin' needle, baby.”

Python huffs out a breath and plays with his second pie serving. “I didn't go over there to kill her.”

“Dead is dead, Terrell. You need to roll up out of here. Go to Mexico or some shit.”

“Nah. And give up the throne? It ain't happening.”

“What throne, Terrell? You boss around a group of niggas and you think that makes you king? Shit.” I go back to shaking my head. “Look. I know better than most that there's no love out here in the streets. We all do what we have to do to eat and provide. I could take all this shit better if you were in trouble for those things—but not no baby momma drama bullshit. You want all these girls to be loyal to you while you're out here fucking anything that moves? I
warned
you that you were gonna get caught up. You got too much dirt out here not to. Now you done dragged that innocent child into the shit that you let pile up. How the fuck is that fair? Fuck. For all we know, we lost your baby brother because of some bullshit like this. Lord knows your momma kicked up about as much unnecessary dirt as you do.”

“I hear what you saying.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. I mean . . . I'm handling my business.”

“Nah. You're moving pieces around the board and hoping that no one checkmates your ass. You need to be watching your back—and start looking at those around you.”

“Momma Peaches, ease off that LeShelle nonsense. If anyone is really down for the cause, it's her. I'm thinking that I'm really going to do this thing and marry her.”

My eyes start rolling again. “Baby, it's too late at night for you to be trying to give me heartburn.”

“I'm serious, Momma Peaches.”

Our gazes meet again, and I know he's telling the truth. “Great. Bonnie and Clyde ride again.”

He chuckles.

“Uh-huh. Remember how that story ended, Terrell. You know, just because something creeps inside your head doesn't mean that it's a good idea,” I tell him.

“Why don't you like LeShelle?”

I turn up my nose but choose my words carefully. “I never said that I didn't like the girl.”

“You don't have to. It's written all over your face. I've been with her for almost five years, and you ain't warmed up to her yet.”

“Terrell, it ain't up to me to like her. She ain't sleeping in my bed.”

“But?”

“But . . . watch yourself. I got a bad feeling about the trouble you're in this time.”

“I'm gonna be a'ight, Momma. Ain't I always?”

“You keep playing with the devil and eventually you're going to lose. That's a fact.” I reach over the table and take his hand. “About Christopher, baby, take him back. For me.” Terrell eased back in the chair and even attempted to pull his hand from mine, but I hold on to it. “Please?”

“I can't do that. He's my son and he belongs with me. I'm gonna raise him up. I'm gonna take care of him.”

“What makes him any different from the fifty-eleven children you got running around the city? Or even the one you got coming with Yo-Yo?”

Terrell groans and rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “Man, Momma Peaches. That whole situation is squashed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He sucks in a sharp breath and shakes his head. “Squash as in done. Over with. Hell, I don't even know if that baby is even mine.”

“Ah. I see. So since Melanie supposedly did you wrong, everybody else is suspect?”

“Pretty much,” he spits. “Shariffa had a nigga on the side. Melanie was sleeping with my number-one enemy—for all I know, the bitch was a Flower from the jump. Why should Yolanda be any damn different?”

“What about you, Mr. Clean? I've told you I don't know how many times that fuckin' around with these little girls was going to come back and take a chunk out of your hardheaded ass.
Now
you don't know whether you're the damn daddy? Nah. You ain't squashing shit. You're gonna man the fuck up and you're going to take care of Yo-Yo and her child as long as you're drawing air into your lungs—or you're going to have to start worrying about me busting a cap in your ass.”

“But, Momma—”

“Don't ‘Momma Peaches' me. You knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with that girl—just like you knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with the captain of police's daughter. Boy, you ain't the only muthafucka in these streets running game. You will
not
run all over Yo-Yo. You hear me? I know she's not the sharpest tool in the toolbox, but I like that girl, and you're going to do right by her and take care of that baby before it ends up with Children's Services. You don't want a relationship, fine. But you're taking care of that baby. As for all those other bitches, if you want a faithful woman, then you need to be faithful. Not only are you fuckin' all these bitches, but you're also putting babies on them and then you just expect them to keep takin' your bullshit. It doesn't work like that.”

“Since when? You ain't never left your man and his ass juggled you and my momma like a fuckin' pimp.”

I whip my hand across Terrell's face so fast and hard that it sounds like a gunshot. “Get the fuck out of my house!”

“Momma Peaches, I—”

“GET. THE. FUCK. OUT!”

He holds my gaze for half a second to see that I mean business. “All right,” he says softly, and then stands up.

“And next time you roll your ass over here, knock before you come into my house! I'm gonna start shooting first and asking questions later around here.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

I watch him as he strolls out of the kitchen. It's not until I hear the click of the front door that I allow a tear to roll down my face.