Harlem Girl Lost (22 page)

One of Hollis'boys, Butterfly Ty, spoke first. “Oh, shit. One of y'all niggers ain't got ya hoes in check … rollin’ up here like police!”

“Fuck that shit,” Hollis said. “Honey is bad as a motherfucker. She could roll up on me anytime.”

“Word to mother … who bitch is that, anyway?” asked Squeaky.

Chance, sitting on the stoop in the cut, slowly rose to his feet and walked to the curb. The niggers were shocked when it became obvious that she was his girl. They turned their heads, more than likely hoping Chance hadn't heard their comments, but he had. To them, this was a major event, because they never had known him to slip like this. He always schooled them about the game, to never shit where you ate, and he always kept his shit tight—strictly business. So naturally, they wanted to see how he handled his own shit.

“Chance!” Silver yelled. “Where have you been? I didn't know if you were dead or alive!”

As if it was no big deal, Chance shrugged. “I was taking care of some business, I was busy.”

Silver frowned. “You so busy that you couldn't even pick up the phone to let me know if you were okay?”

All eyes were focused on Chance, and he knew it. He knew that for business purposes, the outcome of this situation was imperative to his leadership position. He knew that something as little as not handling your bitch was a direct sign of weakness that street niggers took to heart. Bottom line was if they saw weakness, they would forever play on it, which could lead to your downfall. The next day, that shit would spread like wildfire, because the streets were always watching and probing for a nigger's weakness. Niggers would say,
“Chance, that nigger from 144th Street, is pussy—he let a hoe chump him.”
Or they'd get the information twisted (which they always do in the ghetto):
“Yeah, I heard that Chance, that nigger from 144th Street, got his ass whup by three trick bitches who jump out of a cab on him the other night and then robbed the punk-ass nigger.”
No matter how wrong it could be, the talk still jeopardized your rep, and that was all that was needed for a nigger to come and test you. But Chance wasn't that type of person. He offset all that shit by not giving them an opportunity to test him. One time and one time only, which is what A.O. had taught him and Hollis, and that was all that a nigger got.

Chance however, had other reasons to play the role that none of them would ever understand. “Look,” Chance said, “I'm grown, I don't need nobody fucking clocking me.”

Silver looked at him. “Chance, what has gotten into you? Why are you talking to me like that?”

“Because I can,” Chance barked. “And don't be fucking rolling up on me out here with that other shit!”

“Chance, I'm just seeing if you are okay, ‘cause I didn't hear from you in two days!”

“You see me,” Chance snapped. “Now take your dumb ass home!”

Surprised, Silver looked around at everyone watching. “When will you be there?”

“I be there when I'm ready. As a matter of fact, what you need to do is start finding someplace else to live, ‘cause I'm not feeling this shit no more, you know what I'm saying?”

Tears filled Silver's eyes. “Are you serious?”

He looked her straight in the eyes. “As motherfuckin’ cancer!” Unable to hold her gaze for very long, though, Chance turned away. “I'm gonna stay at a hotel until you're gone.”

Silver blinked back the tears and pleaded, “Chance, baby, let's go somewhere and—”

“Bitch,” Chance coldly interrupted, “I already told you I ain't feelin’ you no more, so get your shit out my house and bounce!”

Silver stared at him in disbelief and then slowly backed away, clutching her body as if to hold it together and fighting to hold back the tears. She hailed a cab, and as she opened the door, she looked back one final time.

SPELMAN COLLEGE CAMPUS, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

C
ollege life was everything Silver had hoped it would be. Over her entire four years in college, she maintained impeccable grades, in spite of working two part-time jobs. She hardly ever went out or attended frat parties or dances, and during her four years away, she hadn't once come back to New York to visit.

Besides brief conversations with Missy over the telephone from time to time, New York ceased to exist for her. Missy was now a big-time dancer on Broadway. Silver always asked Missy to come down and visit, but she was always committed. The southern lifestyle was so good to Silver, she thought the easygoing and friendly city of Atlanta was going to be her new home. But as fate had it, she was accepted to one of the best medical schools in the country, New York University Medical School. This was truly a dream come true, but with every dream there were a few glitches, and one of them was that she was only receiving a partial scholarship. Even with government grants and stipends, she would still be short about $130,000 in order to complete her training and education. That didn't worry her
much, though; just being accepted was the miracle. She would fret about the money later.

The graduation ceremony was beautiful. Looking out upon the sea of guests attending the ceremony, there wasn't one familiar face in the crowd, but when it was time to throw their caps in the air, Silver looked toward the sky. “We did it, Ma!” She threw her cap high in the air as hundreds of black graduation caps flew in the air like a flock of birds. Silver looked around at everybody kissing and hugging each other, smiled, and took it all in. As quickly as the smile came, it was replaced by an overwhelming feeling of emptiness, a feeling that had followed her the last four years. She still missed Chance.

Silver arranged for Missy
to pick her up at the bus station on Eighth Avenue. Missy now had her own apartment and her own car, so Silver didn't have to worry about not having a place to stay while she readjusted to life back in New York. Silver arrived first and was waiting on the street when she saw a black Honda Accord zoom to the curb and park. Immediately, an older white guy wearing a security uniform approached the vehicle.

“Ma'am, this lane is for taxicabs only.”

Missy pulled her shades down, looked at the older man, and sucked her teeth, dismissing him as if he weren't even worth her comment. She glanced over the crowd, looking for Silver. The redcap approached her again.

“Ma'am, we have to keep it moving.”

Missy tried to ignore him, but he was persistent.

“Ma'am, this is my final warning. We have to move!”

Angry, Missy turned on him. “Motherfucker, who the fuck is
we?
If you don't get your old funky ass out my face, I'm going to fuck you up!” She stared the old man down until he backed away, not wanting any problems.

Silver watched the scene with a smile. “Same old Missy,” she sighed. She picked up her bags and approached the car. When Missy spotted her, they both let out a big scream.

“What's up, bitch?” Missy squealed.

Silver dropped her bags and hugged her friend tightly. “What's up, hoe!” They pulled apart and examined each other, admiring and hugging.

“Damn, I miss your yellow ass.” Missy laughed.

Silver smiled back. “I miss your black ass, too!”

They snapped out of their reunion when they saw the old man returning with a cop.

“Come on,” Missy sighed, “before these dumb motherfuckers want to tow my shit!” She popped her trunk, threw Silver's bags in, and walked slowly to the front of the car. She took her time starting the engine.

“You got to go this minute,” the security guard said.

Missy looked at him and the cop. “We gotta go, huh? Why don't you try sittin’ on his dick and pedal his balls, bitch?” She peeled rubber while giving both of them the finger. Looking into the rearview mirror, Missy laughed.

“Yo, you still crazy as hell!” Silver shook her head.

“And you know it!” Missy admitted. She glanced at Silver. “Miss College fucking Graduate … Go ‘head, girl, you did that shit!”

Smiling from ear to ear, Silver looked down and felt the
heat of a blush warm her cheeks. Missy lit a cigarette and bragged like a proud parent.

“That's right, my girl has made something of herself. At least somebody made it out this motherfucker.” Missy shrugged as she blew out the smoke.

“What are you talking about? You're a Broadway dancer, girl. You're doing real well.”

Missy gave her a strained smile. “Silver, I do work on Broadway, and I am a dancer, but not the kind you're thinking.”

Silver didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

Missy looked at her. “Damn, bitch, you must've really been in the backwoods down south. I'm a stripper!”

Silver didn't know what to say.

“Don't worry,” Missy assured her. “It's only temporary until I find work, and besides, a bitch get paid for shaking her ass in front of them hard-up niggers. I make sometimes five, six hundred dollars a night.”

Silver's eyes widened. “Damn, in one night?”

Missy smiled proudly. “Yep!” She glanced at Silver. “So, what's next with you? You gonna move back here? You gonna get a job or what?”

“Oh, I guess I didn't tell you …”

Missy threw her cigarette out the window. “Tell me what?”

“I got accepted into medical school here in New York City.”

The car suddenly screeched to a halt. Missy stared at her. “Silver, stop playin’! For real?”

With a slight smile, Silver nodded. Unable to contain herself, Missy jumped out of the car in the middle of traffic and began leaping for joy at the good news. Smiling widely at
Missy's jubilation, Silver couldn't be happier that her best friend was so happy for her.

Getting back into the car, Missy screamed, “You fucking bitch! You really did that shit! I'm so fucking proud of you, Silver!”

“Thanks, girl. I know you are.” They embraced again.

Missy smiled. “Oh, shit. Me and my girl back together again … shit!”

Silver changed the subject. “So how's your moms’ dukes doing?”

“Talking the same old shit and still have them niggers laying up with her. She ain't change.”

“What about your grandma?”

Missy chuckled and lit up another cigarette. “Grandma … shit, still fucking everybody's man in the project and still blazing more trees than me.”

Silver laughed. “Still?”

“Hell, yeah, still ghetto. Man, if I can get one wish, I would move all of them out of them projects and break that perpetual ghetto cycle that my family is cursed with.”

“What's up with Diego?”

Missy smiled. “Shit, girl, I ran into that nigger a couple of years back. He lost all that baby fat and was looking good as a motherfucker, yo.”

Silver watched Missy smile lustfully. “Then what happen?”

“What you think?” Missy snapped, seemingly insulted by the question. “I fuck the shit out of that nigger!”

Silver giggled her ass off. “You fucking hoe.”

“You fuckin’ right, bitch. Ain't shit better than getting virgin dick and bid dick!”

“What the hell is bid dick?” Silver asked in curiosity.

“Oh, that's when a nigga just comes home from doing a bid in jail. Them niggas be puttin’ a hurtin’ on the pussy, yo, have a bitch waterfalling all night like Niagara fuckin’ Falls.”

Silver laughed again. This was what she'd missed most about her homegirl—Missy kept everything real and said what other girls only thought. “Then what happened?”

“Well, me and him hooked up for a minute, but he was too fucking possessive, and I ain't living like that. I had to kill that shit quickly, fast, and in a hurry! Besides, that nigger was still a mama's boy. He was too slow for me. But yo—guess what I found out?”

“What?” Silver asked, almost afraid to ask.

“That nigger's uncle got all of Washington Heights on lock!”

“What do you mean—on the drug tip?” Silver asked.

“Yep, and I ain't talking some street-corner hustle shit, I'm talking pushing fucking elephant weight!”

“So you saying Diego is in the drug business now?”

“Hell, no—his momma would kick his ass. That nigger work at the airport as a baggage handler.”

They both laughed, and then Silver inquired about little Beasley

“Beastly?” Missy said. “Oh, that nigger really changed. He's got his own locksmith company.”

“So what's wrong with that?” Silver said.

“That's just a front. That nigger is a fucking cat burglar!”

Silver's mouth dropped open. “You're lying.”

Missy shook her head. “Nope, I'm talking cracking safes and scaling buildings downtown with them whiteys and shit.”

“Little Beasley?” Silver asked again, just to make sure. Missy nodded. “Little fucking Beasley!”

Missy lived in a nice
, spacious two-bedroom apartment across the street from Central Park on 110th Street. Silver was impressed with her apartment. “Damn, girl, how the fuck you afford to live like this?”

Missy smiled slyly. “I got a few friends.” She opened a bedroom door. “This is your room, and you don't have to worry, I put all new blankets, sheets, and pillows on the bed for you. My lil’ sister used stay here with me for a while until she started bringing them nappy-head niggers up in here fucking and shit.”

“Lil’ Shay? She ain't nothing but thirteen!”

“Twelve,” Missy snapped. “But that don't mean shit with these lil’ bitches these days, spreading their lil’ cooch open for anybody.”

“That's fucked up!” Silver said sadly.

“Who you telling? But what can I do? Anyway, the towels are in that closet and the kitchen is over there if you get hungry, and here's my cell number in case you need me.” Missy turned and headed out the door.

“Where you going?” Silver asked.

“Oh, shit, I forgot to tell you. I got a date, but I'll be back in a few hours, so wait up for me, ‘cause we got a lot of things to catch up on, okay?”

Silver smiled. “Okay.”