Gangsta Divas (7 page)

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Authors: De'nesha Diamond

BOOK: Gangsta Divas
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10
Ta′Shara
“P
lease, let me go. She's not dead yet. She's not dead,”
I warn, tossing and jerking against my restraints. In fact, I can't stop moving. The muscles in my body feel as if they are wired to a battery completely separate from my mind. After a night of this, I'm exhausted.
Every once in a while I manage to close my eyes. In those few precious seconds my soul would float above my body and I could see the sweaty mess that I was: jabbering nonsense and practically foaming at the mouth.
I could even see outside the door where Tracee wept in the nook of her husband's arms while he hugged her tight and whispered words of comfort. I bet that he really regrets ever bringing me and LeShelle into their lives.
I don't blame him.
Once LeShelle tried to prove to me that Reggie was just another closeted pedophile and set out to seduce him. That shit backfired and she ran away before the Douglases had the chance to send her back to Children's Services. She wanted me to leave with her, but the Douglases had been good to me. I wanted to believe their bullshit about how I could be anything I set my mind to.
It was the first time I chose someone over LeShelle.
Profit had been the second time—and apparently the last time.
The medical staff recanted their versions of what had happened to the police. None of them understood a damn thing. And every time I try to explain it to them, my words get jumbled up. It's all the damn drugs they've pumped into me.
“Please, please,”
I sob.
“I have to kill her.”
Those are the words I'm trying to say, but I mentally know that's not matching the gibberish flowing out my mouth. I have to keep trying to warn them. LeShelle isn't going to go away. She's evil. Pure and simple. I didn't understand that before, but I do now. Just like I understand that I have to be the one to bring her down.
I have no choice.
I am twitching and sweating like a junkie, and my brain is begging for sleep. Maybe after I get some sleep I'll be able to get my mouth to work and explain everything to these dumb people.
“
Please. Please. If I don't kill her, she's going to kill me. Why don't you people understand that?”
The door to my room bursts open and three men in long white coats stroll in with their noses high in the air. Maybe they have been able to understand me after all and they're coming to set me free. Another voice inside my head cackles at that thought. Nothing about these dudes reads understanding, freedom, or compassion.
If anything, they are as dangerous to me as LeShelle.
“
Get away from me,”
I warn, but again the words tumbling out of my mouth don't match those that are in my head.
“Calm down, Ms. Murphy,” the one white doctor with pale blue eyes says. “No one here is going to hurt you.”
“Bullshit!”
He jumps back as if I tried to bite him. Wait. Maybe I did. Fuck it. It serves his ass right. I don't want to be up in this bitch anyway.
The good doctor's face flushes with embarrassment as he shares an awkward laugh with his white-coat friends. “All right. All right. Let's take it down a notch,” he says, trying again. This time, when his hands come toward me, I jerk my face away.
“A little help here,” he barks at his sidekicks.
The next thing I know, multiple hands come at me. I bite at a couple of them, but in the end, they manage to hold my head straight while Mr. Blue Eyes flashes light into my eyes. The shit triggers a memory of LeShelle's gun flashing....
 
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
Profit jumped and wiggled around as bullet after bullet slammed into him. His face was filled with rage as he glared at LeShelle. If he could have reached her, he would have torn her apart limb by limb with his bare hands. At long last, there was an audible click when the evil bitch ran out of bullets. However, to everyone's disbelief, Profit remained standing—but barely.
“What the fuck?” one nigga marveled.
The shit spooked the small crowd as they stared open-mouthed at Profit. Hope blossomed in my chest, but then died when Profit wobbled on his weakening legs. Blood streamed from his mouth.
“Profit.” I took advantage of my shocked captors and scrambled out of their grasp. But by that time, my man dropped to his knees like a stone and his eyes slowly rolled toward mine.
 
The doctor removes the light from my eyes and the memory fades, but not before fresh tears roll from my eyes.
“Let's get her one more shot of Cogentin,” Dr. Blue Eyes says, pulling out a syringe from nowhere. The size of the needle gets my ass twitching even harder.
The door bursts open again and Tracee rushes in looking like I felt. “What the fuck are you doin'?”
Even in my state of mind, I am shocked to hear her use such language.
“Mrs. Douglas, we're going to have to ask you step out of the room.”
“No! You told me that you wouldn't give her any more drugs,” she shouts.
“This is for her own good,” he says, leveling her with a look of superiority.
“No!” Tracee wedges herself between him and the bed. “No more drugs! REGGIE!”
Reggie walks into the room. His expression reads that he'd rather not be dragged into a dispute between the doctor and his wife.
“Reggie, tell him to put that damn thing away. They will not continue to dope her up.”
The doctors shift their attention to Reggie.
He hesitates.
Tracee's confidence fades. “
Honey,
tell them!”
After another beat of silence, her face collapses into disbelief. “
Reggie?
” Her voice is edged with a final warning.
Reggie licks his lips and slides his hands into his pants pockets. “Tracee, baby. Maybe the doctors know what's best for her.”
“What?”
His lip-licking becomes a nervous tic. “All I'm saying,
baby,
is that . . . she isn't herself right now.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” she snaps back. “That's because they're pumping her full of God knows what.”
“Tracee, she tried to kill her own sister. God knows what else she's capable of. She's dangerous right now. It could have been you instead of LeShelle. Have you thought about that?” he asks, thinking he's found the right argument. “It could've been you lying in the hospital on life support.”
She looks at him as if she doesn't recognize him. “Ta'Shara would have
never
attacked me.”
Reggie steps forward. “You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do!”
“Mrs. Douglas,” Dr. Blue Eyes tries again. “We really are trying to give her the best care.” He pats her on the shoulder, but she knocks his hand away.
“Don't touch me,” she barks. “And you're not giving my
daughter
any more fucking drugs. Do you hear me?” She cuts her narrowed gaze toward her husband.
The doctor glances at Reggie for help.
“Don't look at him.
I'm
speaking. No drugs. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”
Lying here and listening to this exchange, I feel my heart swell with both pride and love. She called me
her daughter
. Watching her fight so hard for me causes more tears to speed down my face.
“No more drugs,” Reggie agrees. No doubt he finally realizes his marriage depends on him backing his wife's position.
Tracee's shoulders droop with relief, but her upturned chin swivels toward the doctors.
Sighing, Dr. Blue Eyes caps his syringe and then gives her a disappointed glower. “As you wish.” He glances at his companions and signals for them to follow him back out of the room.
When the three of us are left alone,Tracee tears into Reggie. “Thanks for having my back,
honey.
”
At least he has the decency to look contrite. “C'mon, baby—”
“Don't fuckin'
‘baby'
me,” she snaps, giving him her back to stare down at me.
I wish I could smile instead of twitch my appreciation for what she's done. When she reaches to brush my sweat-drenched hair away from my face, I do manage not to bite her hand off.
“It's going to be all right,”Tracee tells me with a smile.“No one is going to hurt you as long as I'm around.”
I believe her.
Behind her, Reggie huffs out a frustrated breath, which pulls Tracee's attention back to him. “And
you.
I've never been more disappointed in all my life.”
“Baby—”
Tracee shoves him back. “I swear to God if you call me baby one more time, I'm going to scream.” She cocks her head. “Then again, maybe you'd like that.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Then maybe you'll have them rush in here and restrain me and pump
me
full of drugs so you won't have to deal with me, either.”
“Okay. Now you're talking crazy.”
“See? There you go. I'm crazy.” She twirls her fingers around the side of her head.
Reggie doesn't have a response to that—or maybe he is too scared to say what he's really thinking.
“Let me ask you, Reggie. Do you think that children are disposable?”
His face twists in outrage. “That's cr—” He clears his throat. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you acting like we should run away from Ta'Shara because she's having problems right now?”
“I never
said
that. I just said that maybe the doctors know what's best for her right now. I'm not a doctor. Are you a doctor?”
“Doctors don't know every fuckin' thing.”
“No. But they may know more about how to deal with someone suddenly coming out of a damn near comatose state to try and kill someone.”
“Yeah. Someone who probably has something to do with her even being here.”
“Oh, please.” Reggie tosses up his hands. “We don't know that. It's more likely it has something to do with that Raymond kid that took her to prom. You've seen the news. His brother is some big-time gangbanger and he's likely one as well. That would explain what really happened at that shoot-out at the hospital last year. Face it. He's every bit the gangster his brother is . . . and I let you talk me into letting him take Ta'Shara to the prom.” He's on a roll and starts pacing.
“So now this is all
my
fault?”
He doesn't answer.
“Ohmigod,”Tracee exclaims, flabbergasted.
“I didn't say that it's your fault,” Reggie relents.
“You're definitely insinuating it.”
“No. No. I'm just saying that . . . we're waaaay over our heads in this situation. Suddenly it's like we're surrounded by gangsters. First the hospital shoot-out, then Ta'Shara is raped, and then her best friend is blown up at a gas station and now this shit? We're waaaay over our heads and I resent your standing there holier than thou and casting judgment on me. Have you given one thought to what we're going to do when we take her home? That Raymond kid has been calling ever since he came out of his coma.You have any idea how we're going to keep those two apart?”
My heart stops.
Profit is alive?
11
Qiana
“W
hat the fuck did you tell him?” Lil Bit asks wide-eyed in the middle of my kitchen. “You didn't tell him the truth, did you?”
“Do I have stupid stamped on the center of my forehead?” I hand her the screaming baby. “Please do something about him.”
Her face twists in horror. “Like what?”
“Like shut him up. I can't get him to stop hollering.” I rub at my temples because they feel like they are just seconds from exploding. What in the fuck did I get myself into?
“Maybe he's just hungry,” Lil Bit suggests. “Have you tried to feed him?”
“Of course I've tried.” I gesture to the mess I've made on the counter with the baby formula we picked up last night. “He wouldn't drink the shit.”
“Did you heat it up?”
“What?”
“Ohmigod, Qiana. Do you know
nothing
about taking care of a baby?” Lil Bit laughs.
“You mean do I know
anything
about taking care of a baby. Jeez.” I roll my eyes.
“Whatever,” she barks back. “If you spent more time thinking through your harebrained schemes as much as you do correcting my English, you'll be ahead of the curve.”
“Fuck you,” I snap, defensively. “And the answer to your question is no. Why in the hell would I know about babies? I ain't out here tryna raise a bunch of seeds.”
“But you're out there, cutting them out of bitches' stomachs?” She laughs. “I'm glad you set me straight on that shit.” She turns her attention to the baby. “Here you go,” Lil Bit says, pulling out a tit and rubbing the nipple in the baby's face. “Go ahead, l'il man. It's all right,” she coos.
I watch this shit with a fried brain. I always heard these little fuckers can be a pain in the ass, but goddamn! How do bitches do it? This loud muthafucka hasn't stopped screaming since I opened my eyes two hours ago.
At long last the baby quiets down and latches onto Lil Bit's limp tit and starts sucking with everything he got.
“Thank God,” I moan.
Lil Bit thrusts up her chin. “I told you he was hungry.”
“What the fuck ever. Your ass is hired. You take care of him.”
Lil Bit shakes her head. “Fuck that. I got three of my own at my granny's house. She done told me if I brought another crumb-snatcher in her house she was putting me out. Sorry, girl. I can't help you on this one.”
“Fuck. I need to get better friends.” I push myself up out of the chair and shuffle to the refrigerator and pull out the grape Kool-Aid. Some niggas need coffee or a cold beer to start their day. For me, this is the shit that gets me gassed up in the morning. This . . . and a Hot Pocket. “You want one?” I ask Lil Bit, holding up the box.
She shakes her head. “Nah. I'm good.”
“Suit yourself.” I pour a glass and then throw my breakfast into the microwave.
“So what did you tell your brother this morning?” Lil Bit presses. “After he spotted the clothes, you had to tell him something.”
I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “I ain't got to do shit. He ain't my fuckin' daddy.”
The second I say that shit, Nookie's new bitch screams out with another throaty orgasm.
My face heats. The crippled muthafucka never cared about embarrassing me in front of my friends. For most of my life, they were subjected to listening to the sex moans coming from his bedroom as much as Charlie and I were.
“Speaking of daddy, I'm not telling his ass shit, either,” I amend my comment.
Lil Bit shakes her head. “You know, I'm always amazed that your father never suffers from lockjaw. I've never heard of anyone eating as much pussy as he does.”
“At least we know how he got his name.”
Lil Bit laughs and I can't help but join her on that shit.
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
“Be back,” I tell Lil Bit and go answer the door. Now that the baby has stopped screaming, my nerves are settling down. I open the front door to see Tombstone's current flame and baby momma GG standing on the other side.
She flashes me a quick smile. “Hey, Qiana, girl. Is your brother home?”
“Nah. He's out handlin' some business for Bishop,” I tell her.
“Business for Bishop or Lucifer?” she asks, unable to keep her jealousy in check.
We all know that my brother has been feeling Lucifer for a long time. “He said Bishop.”
“Humph.” GG settles a hand on her thick hips and glances down Ruby Cove. “I saw one missed call from him on my cell phone, but now when I call him he's not pickin' up. Do you know if he's comin' right back?”
I shrug. “Anything is possible, I guess.”
“Mind if I come in and wait for him?”
Sighing, I step back from the door. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, girl.” GG pulls open the screen door and enters the house.
Now I don't have a problem with GG. She's cool people. And she turns plenty of niggas' heads despite carrying more than two hundred pounds on her frame. The weight is where it counts: tits and ass. Compared to all the trifling hoes Charlie used to deal with, GG is my favorite. She has never said anything out of pocket to me and checks my brother when his brotherly teasing goes too far.
“Hey, Lil Bit. Y'all girls just hanging out?” she asks, walking into the kitchen.
“Oh, hey.” Lil Bit glances up from the baby and smiles.
“Aww.You brought over . . .” She stops and frowns at the baby. Undoubtedly she doesn't recognize the child as one of Lil Bit's kids.
“Oh. He's not mine,” Lil Bit answers.
“Ah. Thank goodness. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me,” GG laughs.
I, on the other hand, want to slap the taste out my girl's mouth. How many times have I told her to never answer a question that hasn't been asked?
GG bounces her head and grins at the suckling baby. “You two are babysitting?”
“Something like that,” I tell her and then shuffle over to the microwave just as the timer beeps. “Want a Hot Pocket?”
“Pass.” GG shakes her head. “I don't know how you can eat that shit.”
“What the fuck you talkin' about? This is the breakfast of champions.”
GG laughs. “Y'all petals heard about our niggas puttin' in work last night?” she asks. “The shit made national news. We may have lost Fat Ace, but Python got his; roasted and flipped off the old Memphis-Arkansas Bridge.”
“Fo real?” I ask, only mildly interested.
“Yup.” GG tosses up our gang signs. “Our people blew up that eyesore, the Pink Monkey, too. 'Bout muthafuckin' time. Those bitch-ass hoes working on those poles spread more shit than the Center of Disease Control can keep up with.”
Since GG's a nurse at one of the free clinics, I guess she would know.
“It just too bad the murder train didn't make it all the way to Shotgun Row, those roaches need to be exterminated.You feel me?”
Lil Bit and I nod.
“Fuck. Bishop is ordering a blackout on that nigga. He wants anyone even remotely related to that slithering muthafucka wiped out—given how many babies and baby mommas that nigga got, it could take a while.”
Me and Lil Bit look at each other.
“Shit. It ain't gonna be too hard getting at his main bitch, LeShelle. Her ass is up in the hospital fighting for her life.”
“What?”
GG smirks. “Yeah. Word is that the bitch's sister finally snapped out of it and tried to kill her. Poetic justice, huh?”
My mind reels. Did I do all that bullshit last night for nothing?
“Bishop ordered it? Don't you mean Lucifer?” Lil Bit asks.
GG pauses, but then ends up shrugging her shoulders. “Yo, I don't know how all this gonna shake out. The throne is hers by right, but . . .”
“She has a pussy,” I fill in for her.
GG looks sheepish. “I ain't got a dog in this fight. I'm a Flower through and through. I let our niggas handle the soldiering shit.”
“I hear you on that,” I say, but I still think the politics are pretty fucked up. Why should it matter whether she has a dick or a pussy in between her legs? Lucifer has put in more work than Bishop—and people fear her name more than her brother. Fuck, it don't take much to put a finger to a trigger nowadays. The measure of a true gangster is the ability to put in
wet
work—and Lucifer is a fuckin' artist with a knife.
Kinda like how I was on that yellow bitch last night.
A smile ghosts around my lips as my gaze shifts to the now-sleeping baby in Lil Bit's arms.
“Anyway,” GG continues. “Somebody gonna have to step up because the Crips smell blood in the water.”
“What do you mean?”
GG shrugs again. “I'm telling you what I heard.”
One thing about GG, her ass hears everything. Just as I think that shit, I catch her sneaking another peek at the baby. Is it possible that she already knows?
Where the fuck is Adaryl?
Lil Bit struggles to keep up with the conversation. “So what you saying? Those niggas are thinking about doubling up on us?”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
“That or take over the game,” GG says. “Think about it. With Python and Fat Ace wiped off the map and Lucifer and Bishop potentially fighting for the throne—the city is primed for a fuckin' Crip hostile takeover.”

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