All Or Nothing (17 page)

Jordan replied, “Yeah, sometimes. She be tryin’ on your clothes, Mommy.”

Oh, yeah? Shantell mused. So it is true. “What else does she do when I’m not here?”

“Grandma takes a real long time in the bathroom.”

“And what else?” Shantell insisted.

“I don’t know?” Jordan said.

Shantell decided against continuing with her line of questioning. Her daughter had said a mouthful. If this was court, then Brenda just got convicted on the word of a Five year old.

This was all Shantell needed to invade her mother’s privacy. She began to search the apartment, concentrating her search on her mother’s room and the bathroom.

In Brenda’s suitcase she found a smoke-blackened stem from a free base pipe, wrapped up in old clothes. In the bathroom underneath the sink, she found crack cocaine-laden razor blades. Suddenly the pieces of the puzzle all fell in place.

Without Brenda present all the physical evidence was like knowing someone committed murder, without finding the body. Shantell couldn’t wait for her mother to come through that front door. She was going to give her an earful.

Shantell’s expected confrontation with her mother would have to wait a little longer. Brenda was a no-show that night and the following day. On the third day she finally showed her face; luckily for Shantell, her daughter was in daycare. Jordan didn’t need to see or hear them going at it. This was grown folk’s business.

Silently, Brenda opened the door and eased her way into the apartment. Like a cat burglar, she maneuvered her way towards Shantell’s room. After listening at the door for a few seconds, Brenda worked up the nerve to go in.

Brenda knew Shantell’s schedule like the back of her hand. Once she saw her daughter onto the school bus, she usually went back to sleep. Brenda counted on this to be the case today.

The low, steady squeak of her bedroom door alerted Shantell to Brenda’s presence. Not for one moment did she believe it was anyone else. If it was, she was in trouble. Shantell decided to take her chances. She lay in the bed motionless, lying on her side, with her back toward the door, Shantell pretended to be fast asleep. She even added some fake snoring for good measure.

Brenda bit on the fake. She slithered her way further and further into the room. She was at the point now where there was no turning back. There was no way Brenda was leaving this room without her medicine. The closer she got, the more impatient she became. That led to Brenda making more noise. Just as she was about to open the closet door, Shantell silently rose from her bed.

“What the fuck you think you doin? Huh?”

Brenda almost pissed in her pants. She clutched her shirt in surprise. She was scared, then the shame and embarrassment began to set in. She was caught. Her daughter knew she was getting high again.

Shantell continued, “I caught yo’ ass, didn’t I?”

This was when Brenda’s old street, crack head con game kicked in. Now it was a matter of self–preservation. She needed to save herself so she told a lie, because the truth was unacceptable. Telling Shantell the truth now would get Brenda a oneway ticket out of her apartment, and maybe her life, for good.

“What you talking about?” Brenda blurted out. “I was just going in your closet to borrow one of your jackets. I’m sorry for not asking you first. Is that what you so mad about?”

“Who the fuck you think you lying to?” Shantell snapped. “You think I’m stupid? How long you thought you was gonna get away wit’ this? Huh? Bitch, you gettin’ high again!”

“What? What you talking about? I been clean for almost a year, Brenda stated. “I just came in here to borrow a jacket.” Shantell didn’t bother to reply. She merely reached over into her nightstand and pulled out a clear zip-locked bag filled with drug paraphernalia. This was proof that her mother wasn’t as clean as she claimed.

“Bitch, does this look familiar?”

In a flash, Shantell threw the paraphernalia at her mother. Fortunately for Brenda, the contents of the bag weren’t heavy enough to travel that far through the air. The bag landed harmlessly by the end of the bed. But Shantell wasn’t through with her yet. She jumped off the bed in a threatening manner she walked over to her mother. Shantell’s teeth were clenched and her fists were balled up tight, as if she was ready to fight.

For a moment, Brenda didn’t even recognize her daughter. She didn’t know who this madwoman was or what she was capable of doing. Brenda sensed danger, so she began backpedaling out of the room.

“You crack head bitch!” Shantell spat. “I let you into my fuckin’ house. Take you back into my life, even when you didn’t deserve it. You lived for months in my house, rent-free. And this is how you repay me!”

There was nothing between Brenda and Shantell but air and Brenda’s fear. Finally, Shantell cornered her in the hallway.

As bad as Shantell wanted to hit Brenda, she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead she just pointed her finger in her mother’s face to emphasize her point as she talked loudly.

“This how you do me, huh? You disrespected my house and my daughter by smokin’ crack in the bathroom. And the bad thang is, you stealin’ shit, that don’t even belong to me. Suppose some nigga’s woulda came in here and killed me and Jordan over some shit that you did? Huh?”

Brenda never even looked at the situation like that. She was too busy getting high to even care. She never thought about what the consequence of her actions would have on her family.

Shantell continued. “You would think that you wouldn’t play me like that. You know I was kind enough to reach out to you after all the shit you done. I created a space for you to live comfortably. That room you was sleepin’ in, that ain’t yo’ room. That’s my daughter’s room. I got her sleepin’ with me. For what? You know what? I’m fuckin’ through with you. Pack yo’ shit and get the fuck outta my house.”

Brenda never had a chance to get a word in edgewise. Shantell had given her the business. She didn’t care what her mother had to say. Her mind was made up, days ago; she knew she was putting her mother out. Still, Shantell didn’t feel good about the manner in which they were parting ways.

Right now she did not care to admit it, but despite everything that happened she still had love for her mother. She had a heart; filled with emotions buried deep down inside; and now that heart was hurting. Still, she refused to let her mother see that side of her. She refused to expose her pain, yet she couldn’t stand the thought of being without her mother again. Somehow through this misery that had become her life, Shantell had already been through this, not once but now twice. It didn’t hurt any less the second time around.

With her mother gone, Shantell felt like now it was really time to get herself together, to get her life in order. She began to focus on the shape of her future, on her daughter.

She knew it was time to get back on her grind. So it was back to the club.

How Playas Play

“Way to move your feet! Good rotation,” The coach yelled. “That’s what I’m talking about DEFENSE. Defense wins championships.”

A smile spread over the coach’s face. Finally, he was starting to see the fruits of the team’s hard labor. It seemed like the team was beginning to buy into his defense-oriented system. On the defensive end they were beginning to play like one cohesive unit, with everyone defending for the entire ninety feet.

Leading the charge was the energetic rookie, Ronald Wright. He ran through the scrimmage without breaking a sweat. He was making it hard for the coach to keep him off the court. If the coach wasn’t so old-fashioned in that he didn’t start rookies, then maybe Ronald would have been a starter when the NBA season kicked off a few days from now. Lord knows he deserved it.

“Gather ‘round,” the coach suggested.

The players towered over him as they put their arms into a huddle to show team unity.

The coach continued, “Defense on three. One, two, three.”

“Defense!” the team roared in unison.

When the whistle blew it signaled more than the end of the scrimmage; It signaled the end of practice and training camp. Some Charlotte Bobcat players couldn’t have been more re lieved. Not Ronald Wright;, he wished they had practice every day. He was in the best shape of his life.

Immediately after the draft, Ronald hired a personal trainer and moved to Charlotte. The world-renowned fitness guru had trained some of most elite athletes in the world. When it came to working out, he was a no pain, no gain type. His grueling drills pushed Ronald to his limit, testing his tolerance for pain. Over summer he had packed on ten pounds of muscle. He had a chiseled body and rock–hard, washboard abs to for all his hard work. Not that Ronald was in bad shape before, but now he was more than ready to face the dreaded rookie wall, the rigors of the long NBA season.

The veteran NBA players had already begun to disperse but a group of five or so younger players lingered on the court. This was the nucleus of the Bobcat youth movement. These players talked in hushed tones, careful to keep anyone out of their circle, out of their business. When Ronald passed by, gulping down the last of his Gatorade, they called him over.

“Yo, Ron,” someone called out. “C’mere real quick.”

Slowly Ronald headed towards the group. He wondered just what this was all about. What did they want with him? Ronald was somewhat of a loner on the team. He didn’t come to the NBA to make friends. He came to leave a legacy as one of the best players to ever lace up a pair of sneakers.

He knew most of the players didn’t like him and vice versa. They were from two different worlds. He was from the suburbs, middle class, and many of them were from the mean streets of the inner city. Had it not been for the game of basketball, then more than likely their paths would never have crossed. It was somewhat of a culture clash for all parties involved.

Still, they all had to admit that Ronald Wright had game. He spoke the universal language of basketball fluently. Those were the two things they all had in common: basketball and youth.

“What’s up, fellas?” Ronald spoke. “What’s going on?”

“Listen, its Eric’s birthday today,” one player began. “A group of us were gettin’ together a li’l later tonite to celebrate. We was thinkin’, maybe you wanna chill wit’ us tonight?”

“Sorry fellas, I don’t,” he stated. “Anyway, I have to get some rest.”

The player responded, “C’mon man don’t be like that. Don’t be a party pooper. Where’s yo’ team spirit? How we gonna build chemistry and camaraderie, if you over there and we over here? It’s just one night, man. I promise, you can leave early.”

Ronald had to admit, they had a point. He had worked like a dog all summer; he deserved a little break. He thought to himself, What better way to get to know your teammates?

“You partied with us last time,” another player interjected.

“Alright, count me in,” Ronald stated.

“That’s what’s up!” someone commented. “It’s goin’ to be on tonight.”

After accepting their invitation, Ronald headed for the locker room. He was unsure of just what to expect out of his teammates tonight, but he would bet his last dollar it was going to be fun.

Every time Shantell dropped Jordan off at the babysitter, she felt real bad. It was almost as if she was betraying her daughter. Jordan left her mother with images of her kicking, screaming and crying her eyes out. Usually that would bring Shantell to tears. She hated to leave her daughter with virtual strangers, but she had no choice. After that incident with Mike, she was determined to liberate herself financially. She promised herself she would never again be at his mercy.

Tonight it was business as usual, except Shantell wouldn’t be performing at the club. She lucked up and got invited by another stripper, Champagne, with whom she was friendly, to a private party. Just by the location of the party, Shantell knew that this wasn’t going be your typical stripper affair.

Shantell and a few other strippers met up at Ballantyne Resort, located in the prestigious neighborhood of South Charlotte. The girls were told to be tastefully dressed, nothing scandalous or revealing, when entering the hotel. This was so as not to draw the suspicions of management, who had no idea that their establishment was being used for this purpose.

“Damn, this hotel real nice,” one stripper gushed. “Must cost these niggers an arm and a leg to rent a room.”

The identity of the occupants of the suite was kept a secret. Only one person actually knew who was up in the room, and Champagne wasn’t saying. She knew if the word got out around the club, every stripper and their mother would want to come. She knew everything wasn’t for everybody. She selected the prettiest girls with the nicest bodies and good character. But more importantly, they had to be down for whatever. It was on her to show these dudes a good time. If everything worked out, then she knew that they would be hollering at her again, for sure.

“Don’t worry they can afford it,” Champagne assured them.

“That’s all a bitch like me needed to hear. Ya heard!” another stripper commented.

As they entered the resort, the sudden appearance of four sexy African American females caught the desk person’s eye. He stopped them immediately.

“Good evening, ladies. Welcome to the Ballantyne Resort. Here, we like to think of it as heaven on earth,” he greeted them. “How can I help you?”

Champagne replied, “Yes. We’re here to see a gentleman in suite 310. I believe his name is Roger Thornton.”

Quickly, the desk person punched the name into the computer to verify the guest’s stay at the resort. Once everything checked out, he directed the ladies to the elevator.

“Take a left at the end of this corridor and the elevators will be on your immediate right. Have a nice night, ladies.”

“Thank you, sir,” Champagne replied.

The small entourage strutted down the hall, marveling at all the nice fixtures in the lobby. The luxurious getaway was much to their liking. They soaked it all up with their eyes; most knew that they had never been to a place this nice before and probably wouldn’t again. This hotel gave luxury a whole new meaning.

As the elevator rose to the designated floor, the more impatient Shantell became. She was getting tired of all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. She couldn’t wait to see just who these big timers were. She figured they were in the music industry, probably a rapper and his homeboys. But there was one thing for certain: there was some money in that suite.