Hood Misfits, Volume 1 (5 page)

Blood hit me like rain. Neither nigga knew what hit them. They'd reached for Glocks too late, gasping for air and staring at death the moment the bullet cut through their brains.

I looked down at the two big muthafuckas that lay at me feet.

“You die, muthafucka,”
boomed on the speakers down below. The rhythm made their pools of blood vibrate with the song.

Kicking my Tims into the side of each fallen nigga, I wiped a hand down my face, kneeled down to wipe my blade on their clothes, and moved to sit back on the couch. I dropped my foot on the arm of the couch and wiped my Tims off.

“I'll foreva be a trigga-happy nigga,” I crooned with a lethal smirk. I glanced up at my boss with blank eyes. “Yeah, loyalty is bond, Bossman, and them two niggas are foul as fuck.”

Dame watched me in amusement. He knew it was why he hired me and moved me up in ranks after schooling me so many years. I was good at my shit, and he had no issue with me playing with my kills.

“Motherfucka, call the cleaners and get your ass off my couch, little nigga. Tell me what you found out.”

Quickly standing, I walked over to his desk and hit the com, calling for select niggas and bitches he had on his payroll to clean up any mess.

“Latin Kings gave us twenty-four hours to give them bodies. These niggas right here are the gifts. They played us, Bossman. It was them, Ray, Shanna, and some other nigga, I couldn't hear his name, who took from home, man.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Dame walked to Janky and Slammer then dropped to one knee to crush his fists into their skulls. Each hit, he cursed, and gripped their heads, slamming them into the floor.

As he did so, I broke down how I heard it all and why I didn't get to learn the rest. Bloodshot-red eyes looked up at me in the screwed-up face of a man who was nothing but evil.

I stood my ground, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“Party is fuckin' over! Deliver these muthafuckas to the Kings, get my shit back on line, Trigga. And change out these muthafuckin' floors. Now my shit is fucked up! Get my office clean! Fuck! Bitches fucked up my goods, now I'm gonna fuck up theirs.”

This was where I took my pop's teachings and chilled my spirit. Like, how the fuck this nigga gonna come at me on some bullshit, talking about, clean his shit? Clean his shit? This nigga OCD and shit was kicking in, in this moment? Did he forget I just told him these two pussy-ass bitches turned game on him?
Fuck outta here.

Exhaling, I walked over to where Dame once stood over those niggas, niggas he'd stomped before walking out of his office, kicking over a table.

Pushing Janky's smashed face that held the blank stare of death on it, I dropped down to pick the niggas up while the cleaners came in to handle their business. Damn fucked-up birthday. Feel me? And now I wanted some chicken on top of that shit.

I threw Janky's heroin-skinny ass over my shoulder and walked to the door, where I saw Gina hovering in the hall, pointing the cleaners to the office.

This broad really thought I couldn't catch that she was being nosy.
Damn! Why are broads stupid in this house?
I mean, she was sexy as fuck, used to think right, but after her trip to the basement, shawty wasn't all there anymore.

Brushing past her, I watched her turn her back to me, but not before she saw me tap two fingers against Janky's leg, showing her the deuces then the middle. That was our sign of knowledge.

Walking down the stairs, I dropped my voice while she pretended she was pointing people away. I said to her, “Bitches always end up in the ‘underworld.'”

I jumped up when Gina came rushing into the room. I didn't know what time it was. I hadn't seen the outside of the place since I had been tossed in that closet. Gina looked like she had just seen a ghost.

“You done fucked up, girl,” she said with wide eyes.

She was looking at me, but at times it was like she was looking past me, like she was staring at a ghost or some shit.

“What I do?” I asked her. “I been in here the whole time. I ain't done or said shit to nobody.”

Finally, she looked at me, genuinely looked in my eyes. “That crazy nigga sending you to the basement.”

“The basement? Can't be worse than being locked in a closet.”

“You gonna wish he locked yo' ass in the closet. I tried to tell you to calm down, girl.”

Maybe I didn't get what she was saying, but going to the basement meant he was locking me away, so it couldn't have been any worse than being locked in that fuckin' closet.

“It's just a fuckin' basement, Gina.”

“It ain't just no damn basement. When bitches get sent to the basement, sometimes they don't come back out that muthafucka.”

That had my attention. I walked closer to her. The stuff she had tried to hand me before still lay haphazardly on the king-sized bed. The room itself was just as caked-out as the last one I had been in. Only, this room was made to appear like it belonged to some princess. There were even porcelain dolls decoratively sitting about. I had figured it was Gina's room, since she knew it in and out and because of her, sometimes, kid-like disposition.

“Whatchu mean?” I asked her.

Her eyes darted back and forth, and then she brought a closed fist to the side of her head. She started to pace the floor as she mumbled the words, “No, no, no,” over and over again.

“Don't go to the basement. You shoulda showered and put them damn clothes on like I told you. You shoulda not have fought with that bitch Sasha. Big-booty Amazon bitch got me sent to the basement. They fuck bitches up bad in the underworld, baby.”

She said all of that as she walked a hole in the cashmere rug at the foot of her bed.

“Niggas, lots of niggas, fuck you in the basement, beat you, drug you. They fuck hoes up in the underworld. And Trigga said—”

There's that name again.
“Trigga said what?” I asked her.

My hands covered my breasts as I followed her then grabbed her arm to make her stop pacing. All I still had on was my pink cotton panties. I didn't know who had taken my clothes off or where they had put them. And I didn't want to put no damn clothes on that man wanted me to.

“Trigga said bitches always end up in the underworld. That mean Daddy done put word out that you free game. No telling how many niggas gon' be down there waiting on you. Sasha is just as grimy as these niggas. Bitch stuck a pipe up my pussy 'cuz I ain't wanna eat hers. Daddy had told her to break me in, but I ain't wanna eat that bitch rancid cunt. I mean, I'll sex women, but her pussy looked like dried prunes with stray coconut hair. How that bitch light skin with a burnt pussy?”

If what she had said about the basement hadn't damn near scared me stiff, I would have laughed my fat ass clear off. But fear had me shaking. I mean, I started shaking like I was about to have a seizure.

I heard movement out in the hall and backed away from the door, scared that niggas was coming to get me. Once the commotion died down, I started to look around for some sort of weapon to keep on me.

“You ain't got no blades up in here, Gina? Like you strip, right, you ain't got nothing on you to protect you from niggas out there?” I asked in a panic.

“Naw. Daddy takes care of me. I get my own bodyguard. Big Jake. You know the cute big dude?”

She said that in a dreamy way, like she liked him or something.

I nodded. “Yeah, he threw me in the closet.”

“You lucky then. If Big Jake put you there, he wasn't gon' let nobody fuck wit' yo'. And you still kinda lucky 'cuz Trigga warned me so I could tell you. Trigga don't like none of these niggas in here really. Him and Big Jake hang tight. Trigga always brings me my favorite Happy Meal and stuff, if I don't piss him off. Sometimes I do though, but he don't call me out my name, like Dough Boy. You don't wanna get hooked up wit' Dough Boy.”

I still had yet to know what he looked like beyond a glimpse. But I knew that fuckin' voice, and before my time here was up, I was going to kill that muthafucka. “I don't really know who he is.”

“You don't wanna know that nigga either. He likes using his big retarded dick as a weapon. You know, like that nigga didn't want no pussy from me. He just rammed the shit up my ass. He a fuckin' faggot on the down low I bet. He likes beating on bitches too much.”

After a while I just drowned Gina out. I had to figure out a way to get myself a weapon. I wasn't gon' be taken there without nothing in my hand to fight with. If I died or some shit, I'd die fighting.

I asked her, did she think I could take a shower.

She told me, “Smelly pussy ain't selling pussy, and if you going to the basement, ain't no need to wash ya cunt.”

That scared the hell out of me even more.

She locked me in her room when it was time to eat dinner. She said Dame always fed them good because he wanted them at their best, since they were his prime stock.

“I'll let you know when shit's about to get hell for you. Most of these niggas talk around me 'cuz they think I'm stupid. I'll try to get you a heads-up.”

I didn't see Gina for the rest of the night. I stayed awake for fear of being tossed in the basement. And I was hungry. I could smell the food wafting through the house. I sat in a corner with my back to the wall and facing the door. Anytime somebody walked back, I jumped up.

That went on for two days. I still didn't see Gina. Nobody brought me any food. I drank water from the faucet in her bathroom and pretended it was my mama's lasagna and my daddy's corn bread. I was starting to smell a little bit, but not as much as I wished. I was getting weak because of no food, but I tried to do the exercises I'd always seen my daddy do to stay alert. Push-ups, jumping jacks, shadowboxing. I found a white sports bra that fit, and I put it on to cover my titties. Then I found a pair of sweats too.

On the second day Gina rushed into the room then dragged me into the closet. She looked different. Her long braids were in two pigtails, and she had a bag on her shoulder. She was dressed in booty shorts that exposed her ass cheeks, and a ripped top that showcased her big breasts and small waist. And she wore tall army-like boots on her pigeon-toed feet.

“You starting to stink. That's good,” she calmly said as she rushed to open the book bag. She started taking out fried chicken, steak, mac and cheese, bread, and water.

I snatched up everything before she could say it was mine. I tore into the fried chicken and ripped the top from the container of mac and cheese.

“Daddy gon' fuck me up for feeding you. Nigga got cameras everywhere in this house, probably got some shit in here too.” She then looked up, like she was trying to scope where one would be. She then stood and quickly turned the light.

“Thank you,” I was able to get out between mouthfuls of food.

“Don't thank me, Ray-Ray. I'm only feeding you 'cuz they coming for yo' ass soon. Heard niggas jawing.” She giggled. “I learned that word from Trigga and Big Jake.
Jawing
means niggas standing 'round yapping gums like bitches. All excited over pussy, like they ain't had it. That's what Trigga was saying. He ain't like these other niggas. He smart, Ray-Ray. You need to try to get him to talk to you.”

“Fuck him!” I spat. “He was there when they killed my mama and daddy. Fuck him! I'ma kill that nigga too.”

Gina laughed like she was having a fit. Even though it was dark in the closet, I could see her fall back laughing.

“Girl, you ain't killing Trigga. That nigga crazy, lightning quick. He could kill you before you blinked. Yo' ass better off trying to kill that fake bitch, Sasha. She mad as fuck at you right now, but, naw, you ain't killing Trigga. You know he killed Janky and Slammer two days ago, right? Daddy said he shot them niggas then sliced their throats before they bodies even hit the fuckin' ground.”

I listened to what she said as I gulped water down.
Was he the one that killed my mama and my daddy? I didn't know, but I was gonna kill everybody in the room when it happened. So he had killed Janky and Slammer, huh? Why not Pookie? Why he ain't kill that nigga too?
I looked up at Gina when she stood.

“I gotta go give Daddy his afternoon massage. He be pissed when I'm late,” she said, like this life was normal. “I do it every day, and when he's really satisfied with me, he gives me extra stuff.”

I mean, I knew my mama and daddy lived the life, but they ain't let me live it. They did drugs and shit and tried to kill each other around me, but they loved me too much to pimp me. Mama said she would never do to me what her mama had done to her—Make her suck a nigga's dick at ten. Daddy said wasn't no nigga gon' be pimping his daughter, making her sell her pussy to the highest bidder. I wanted to believe the only reason he gave me to Dame was to keep him from killing me. I wished he would have let them kill me.

“Got somethin' you need in that bag, Ray-Ray. Don't leave nothing in the bag.” Gina then left me there.

I was eating like a damn pig. I didn't even know if the shit was good. All I knew was, it felt good going down my throat. As I chewed on a piece of steak, I reached into the bag. I pulled out some peach cobbler and then looked into the bag again. When I didn't see anything, I wondered why Gina told me not to leave nothing in the bag. I shrugged then used my hand to start eating the cobbler. Shit was still hot, but I was starving.

When I stuck my hand in the second time, I yelped, dropped the bowl, and hopped up. I flipped the light on to see blood dripping from my left hand. “Shit!” I had sliced my finger. I grabbed a shirt from the hanger to wrap around my hand.

But I took my attention back to the container with the peach cobbler; I dumped it all out then saw the gift Gina had left me—three razor blades. I thanked that dense-in-the-head girl as I rushed to swoop them up. I was about to run to the bathroom to wash them until I remembered what she had said about the cameras.

I picked up the cobbler container and rushed to the bathroom to fill it with water then I brought it back to the closet and washed the sticky mess off them. Once done, I tried to decide how I was going to hide them on me.

My mama had showed me how to hide a blade under my tongue. I prayed I remembered and didn't cut my shit off. The other two I hid in my bra, hoping I would be able to get to them when time called for it.

From there I just waited. I paced the room floor back and forth like Gina had done just days before, but nobody came. I got tired and was feeling sluggish from all the food I'd scarfed down, so I took a seat in the corner that I occupied. Before I knew it, I'd fallen asleep.

When I came to, four niggas were rushing in the room. I tried to fight, but they had caught me sleeping. I managed to kick one right in his dick as he came for me. He yelped out and fell to his knees.

“Yo, grab that li'l bitch!” Dough Boy yelled out. “How the fuck it take fo' of y'all niggas for a sixteen-year-old ho?”

I knew it wasn't gon' do much good, since four of them had come for me, but I would always fight for my life. When one picked me up from behind, I kicked my leg out to kick Pookie in the face. I kicked that ugly bumpy-face fool so hard, his teeth cut my bare foot. That nigga was gon' pay for snitching out my folks too. I tried to do it again, but another nigga grabbed my right foot.

I could hear Dough Boy laughing at the door.

I finally got a good look at him. He was five eleven, tops, and rocking cornrows that stopped just below his neck. He was dark like me, with beady eyes that showed sinister thinking, and his big greasy lips protruded from his face, reminding me of a platypus.

When the niggas who had grabbed me carried me through the door, I wanted to spit in that nigga face, but couldn't because of the blade in my mouth.

I spotted Gina hiding in a corner, peeking at the chaos. Big Jake shook his head and turned to walk the other way.

For some reason, I was looking for Trigga. He was always around somewhere. There was no party going on, and everyone had come up the stairs to watch me being dragged to the basement.

Sick muthafuckas!
The whole fuckin' house was sick.

I caught a movement out the corner of my eye and saw Sasha slink forward from the room I was in first, a smirk on her face. She had gotten that weave fixed, and her makeup hid the bruises. She was decked out in a pink two-piece jumpsuit and pink Nike Shox on her feet. I wished like hell I could get my feet loose and kick that bitch in her face.

“Let's see how tough you are now,
bitch
!” she quipped, emphasizing on the
bitch
, just to fuck with me.

I saw countless faces of women: black, white, Latino, Asian, and other ethnicities too. A few looked like they felt sorry for me, while the rest gave shakes of the head, with looks that said I was getting what I deserved.

I had almost pissed on myself from being so scared.

Then I heard my mama's voice again. Seen her face just like she was right in front of me.