Street Divas (19 page)

“And I'll blast that muthafucka off of it, too.”

His lips curl upward. “Baby girl, you gonna learn sooner or later that you can't solve everything with a bullet. Nobody likes it, but politics are very necessary in these streets, and as such, sometimes you're going to have to strike deals with your enemies to take down a bigger enemy. You feel me?”

I do, but I don't want to. “Yeah.”

Smokestack cocks his head. “Good. Now swallow that lump in your throat and go out there and handle your business with your cousin Skeet. He'll help you out.”

“He's not my real cousin.”

“I'm not your real cousin either, but we're still fam, right?”

“Right,” I say without hesitation.

“Of course, that is until Mason opens his eyes and does the right thing and marries you.”

“What?” I choke.

“Aw, man. Save the Oscar performance for someone who bought a ticket. I ain't stupid and I damn sure ain't blind. You've had a thing for my boy since y'all were kids.”

“And on that note, I think it's time for me to go.” I jump to my feet while he starts laughing his head off.

“Guess I hit a sensitive spot. That must mean the devil has a heart after all.”

“Catch you later, Smokes.”

“C'mon, sit back down. We still have a couple more minutes.”

I hesitate, but I return to my chair, praying like hell that he'll change the subject.

“Don't be sore at your old cuz. I wanted to let you know that I've been rooting for you. But I guess Bishop permanently squashed that shit a long time ago.”

“Squash what?”

Smokestack falls back against his chair. “Ain't nobody ever told you?”

“Told me what?”

“Nah-nah.” He shakes his head. “I'm not going to be no accidental snitch. You don't know; I don't know.”

What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
“Great. I guess I'm going to have to dig up the answer myself.”

“Guess so.” He smiles.

Man, spit it out.
“Doesn't matter. Up until six weeks ago, Mason has always had a thing for someone else.”

“Well, there will always be other bitches to chase the chill out of a nigga's sheets, but it doesn't mean that his heart can't belong to one woman. That's the way we're wired.”

“Yeah, well, up until a coupla months ago, that woman was Melanie.”

“Melanie who?”

I cock my head.

“Not—”

“The one and only.”

Smokestack's face falls while his color drains. I can tell that his mind is racing now, too.

“He didn't kill—”

“Nah. Wrong place, wrong time.” However, my assurance doesn't put color back into his face. In fact, he looks worse. “Smokes, are you all right?”

When he doesn't answer, I look around and call one of the watching prison guards over.

“How long?” he asks.

I'm confused. “How long what?”

“Him and Melanie? They never . . . ?”

I laugh. “Like rabbits, and let her tell it, she was about to have his baby.” He continues to grow pale. At least now I know he's thinking and feeling what I was a few minutes ago. “Smokes? Are you sure that you're all right? Do you need a doctor?”

He starts shaking his head. “Did her father . . . ?”

“Clueless—as usual. If the Vice Lords didn't point his ass in the right direction, he wouldn't be able to find his own asshole.”

Smokes gives me a hard look, so I shrug my shoulders. “I'm just saying. That supercop bullshit is just that.”

“Fuck. I had no idea.”

“Looks like I'm the accidental snitch today.” I stare at him as I wait for color to return. I want to call the guard again in case Smokes is really having a heart attack. “Look, I'm sorry. I know that you and her dad—”

“Forget it. Just . . . keep me posted on what's going on. You watch your back out there. The streets have taken down harder niggas than you.”

I laugh. “Don't be ridiculous. They don't come no harder.”

W
here in the fuck is Python?

I draw in a deep breath and then try to settle my ass down, but this nigga has been MIA for six fucking weeks now. I keep hearing his name in the street, but this nigga ain't returned none of my calls, texts, or muthafuckin' smoke signals for that damn matter. I can't prove it, but I know he's getting my messages. So what's up?

My belly is getting big as fuck, and I've been tapping into my own stash to pay fucking bills that I ain't supposed to be paying. The info I'm getting is off the muthafuckin' streets, and most of that sounds and smells like bullshit. However, some of the other shit got me wondering.

The way Captain Johnson and his badge posse stay on the news looking for his daughter's killer got me believing that Python got the wrong nigga gunning for his ass this time. As usual, ain't nobody seen or heard shit in this case, but Python's real name, Terrell Carver, has been plastered on the news every hour on the hour as a person of interest in the case.

What the fuck does that mean? Do they think he killed the bitch or not? And if he did and they are able to slap him with the charge, surely that shit is like a needle in the arm for killing a cop. Where the fuck will that leave me?

Some niggas say Python is dead and that McGriff is the new head nigga in charge. Judging by the way Kookie has been rolling through, styling and profiling, I figure that she has a lot to do with spreading that fucking rumor. If Python goes down, then so does LeShelle's evil ass as head Queen G.

Again, where the fuck does that leave me?

I close my eyes and curse under my breath for a full fucking minute. I know exactly where that shit leaves me. Up a goddamn creek without a fuckin' paddle. In my mind, I can picture Baby Thug shaking her head and telling me,
Only a retarded muthafucka would keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results.

I can't go back to square fuckin' one. I'd rather cut my own damn throat than have to move back into my momma's house on Shotgun Row and mule shit into the federal pen for some chump change. Maybe I could go back to the Pink Monkey after I have this kid, bounce my ass on the poles again and hope that another high-ranking soldier will get hypnotized by how hard I make my booty clap. Fuck. At this point, I need to be thinking of a plan B, C, D, and even a muthafucking Z.

The way the game keeps flipping so fast out here, it's hard to keep up. One minute I think I can get my kids back, and now I don't even know if that's fucking possible. And if I can't get them now, then when?

A knot grows in the center of my chest while my baby karate chops my bladder for like the millionth time today. I have to do something—something different—to get my ass back in the game.

But what?

What fucking card do I have to play? Python's baby? Shit. Python has an army of ugly lil niggas roaming the streets, and he hasn't wifed none of those bitches that spit them out either. Only LeShelle has been hanging with his ass longer. While she's not wife, she certainly is wifey.

So what's gonna make my baby special? Hell, I was relying on how hard I made the nigga bust his nuts as a guaranteed ride to the top. The shit worked for LeShelle when her ass worked at the Pink Monkey once upon a time. And I refuse to believe that that bitch's pussy snaps harder than mine.

What is it going to take to knock that bitch off her throne?

I have an appointment to go see my kids today, but by the time I climb behind the wheel of my SUV, I've made up my mind to swing by Goodson Construction. Being around the way as long as I have, I know Momma Peaches's man, Isaac, used to use the place back in the day as a business front. Python and McGriff mentioned the place in the VIP of the Pink Monkey a couple of times, and I'm just going to take a chance and see if his ass is over at this muthafucka.

The minute I roll up, I spot Python's ink-black '77 Monte Carlo and nearly piss on myself with excitement. “Got you, muthafucka.” The smile on my face is so wide, I probably look like the fuckin' Joker when I hop out of my vehicle and start switching my ass toward one of the metal doors.

As soon as I get halfway to the door, a team of big-muscled muthafuckas start pouring out the door and blocking my path.

McGriff heads the pack as he glances around. “What the hell are you doing here, Lemonhead?”

“Excuse you?” I roll my neck, but I don't stop my stride. “Don't come at me foul, nigga. I ain't in the mood. Where's Python at?”

“He ain't here,” he says, grabbing my right arm and damn near snatching me out of my expensive pumps.

“Whoa, nigga. Ease up.” I try to snatch my arm back. “What the fuck you doing?”

“Taking you back to your car,” he says, jerking my arm so hard that it's a wonder the muthafucka doesn't pop out of its socket.

“Hey! Let go of me!” I twist and jerk my arm, but this nigga ain't having none of that shit and easily drags my ass back to my ride. “He's in there, ain't he?” That has to be it. Why else are all these muthafuckas out here? “PYTHON! I WANT TO TALK TO YOU!” This time I twist and jerk my whole body tryna get away from this muthafucka. If my man is up in this bitch, he's going to talk to my ass—believe that shit. “PYTHON!”

“Dammit, bitch!” McGriff turns around and slaps his free hand across my mouth.

That's a mistake because I don't think twice to bite down on that thick muthafucka like a starved lion.

“FUCK!” McGriff snatches his shit back, and I have the taste of his blood dripping from my mouth as I holler, “PYTHON!”

McGriff grabs me by the shoulders and shakes the fuck out of me. “Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch!” He raises his hands, but I keep my jaw up and prepare for the blow that's coming. Shit. It won't be the first time a nigga done knock the shit out of me, and it probably won't be the last. And when he's through, I still ain't going no muthafuckin' where.

When McGriff 's fist gets ready to swing like a golf club, Python's voice thunders across the way.

“Yo, nigga! Slow your ass up!”

McGriff releases me, but the look in his eyes says he wishes he could have a couple more seconds alone with me.

“Get the fuck off me.” I wrench free and then cut my eyes back over to the warehouse door and see Python's thick, muscled body. The way my body quivers with excitement, it feels as if I've caught the Holy Ghost.

“Python.” I smile and race back across the parking lot. I don't give a fuck if I look funny, running in these high heels with this big-ass belly in front of me. I'm happy as fuck to see his ass. “Thank God, baby. I've been so worried.” I throw my arms around this nigga and start raining kisses all over his twisted-up face. I pretend not to notice that he doesn't hug me back or even attempt to return a single kiss. I want him to see how happy I am to see him.

“What the fuck are you doing out here? Who sent you?” he asks, looking at me as if I'm some miscellaneous ho on patrol.

I blink and pull back to stare in his face. “What? Nobody sent me. I took a chance and came here to look for you.”

His stony expression doesn't change, and I wonder what I did for this nigga to flip on me like this.

“Why haven't you returned any of my pages? I've been worried sick.” I touch my belly for emphasis, and his gaze drops and stares at it for a long damn time. I know what this nigga wants to say before he even fixes his mouth. “Now you don't want nothing to do with your child, is that it?”

“Sheeit. That baby can be anybody's.”

His hard and emotionless tone hits me like a two-by-four. “What the fuck are you talking about? I ain't been with nobody else but you. You know that shit.”

Python shakes his head, humiliating me further in front of his boys. “I don't know shit. And I done had enough of you slick-ass bitches who can't get your damn lies straight. You need to take your ass home and squash whatever bullshit you thought we had going. It ain't happening.” He shoves me away from him, and once again, I nearly trip out of my heels.

“What? You can't be serious.” I race back over to him, but his big-ass arms come back up and stop me like a brick wall.

“I ain't playing with you, Yo-Yo. Go home, before you get caught up in some bullshit that you can't handle.” His gaze sweeps across the parking lot like he's expecting niggas to jump out at any moment.

My heart races because this shit can't be happening to me again. I ain't tryna hear nothing his ass is saying on this shit. “I'm not going anywhere until you fuckin' talk to me. What the fuck you mean, squash this shit?”

He goes on looking around at everything but me. Without thinking, I reach out and grab the sides of his head and force his big-ass head to turn in my fucking direction. “Look at me, goddamn it! What in the hell are you talking about? How the fuck you gonna put a baby on me and then dip? What kind of fuckin' man is you?”

“Bitch, step!” Python throws one hand up and breaks my hold on his face. I definitely got his attention now, because his face is twisted and his eyes look like straight fire. “I'm
the
muthafuckin' man out here. That's all the fuck you need to know. What we had was cool for a minute. You have some good ass, I'll give you that, but I'm breaking from all the miscellaneous pussy out here and sticking with my true boss-bitch, LeShelle. And until you push that seed out and confirm it's mine, we ain't got shit to talk about. You feel me?”

“WHAT?”

“Bitch, why you keep whating me? I done said what I got to say, now get the fuck on.” He glances back at his boys. “Get her ass on away from here. I got some business to handle.”

The next thing I know, McGriff grabs me again. “NO! Python, wait!”

He turns his back on me and strolls into the building while McGriff continues to manhandle me.

“Don't do this, Python. Please!” Tears burn the backs of my eyes while all my hopes and dreams blow up in my face. “Let go of me, goddamn it!” I turn and swing. My fist catches McGriff underneath his right eye.

“Oooh.” His boys wince and hiss as if they felt the blow themselves.

“Goddamn it!” McGriff loses his grip on me.

I scramble back to the door, trying to catch it before it closes. “PYTHON!” But I don't get there before the door slams in my face. The second I reach for the handle, McGriff is back on his job and once again snatches me up. This time, his arm wraps around beneath my breasts. His hold is tight.

“Let. Me. Go!” I throw both of my hands back over my head and try to beat him in the face that way, but he dodges my blows and continues to drag me.

“Let go! Let go!”

Niggas are cracking the fuck up, but neither one of us is paying them any attention.

“Stop it, you stupid bitch.” He drags me closer to my ride.

In a desperate act, I stomp my high heels down and do my best to crush and smash his toes into the ground.

“FUCK!” McGriff roars, but this time his grip remains firm. “You're making a goddamn fool of yourself, Yo-Yo. Stop it!”

“Fuck you!” Next I drop my weight, and at last we both tumble to the ground. From there we wrestle. Fuck the scrapes and bruises. I don't have time to worry about that shit. All I can focus on is getting back to Python so I can convince him that he's making a huge mistake. I can be every ounce of a ride-or-die chick like LeShelle—no,
better
than LeShelle. If he'd just give me a chance.

“Damn, nigga,” one soldier pipes up, laughing. “You can't handle one damn bitch?”

“Shut the fuck up,” McGriff barks, struggling to get to his feet. When he stands, he has both of my hands in a firm grip so that he can literally drag me and my big-ass belly across the asphalt.

“I bet Kookie wears the damn pants at your muthafuckin' house,” another loud-ass muthafucka shouts.

Kicking and screaming, I'm calling McGriff's ass all kinds of muthafuckas my damn self. By the time he grabs me up and shoves me into my car, we're both damn near out of breath.

“Yo-Yo, calm the fuck down,” he shouts when I try to get back out of the car. “You're making this shit worse, not better.”

He grabs my attention with that.

“You think LeShelle would be out here, making an ass of herself like this? Have you ever seen that bitch wildin' out of control over a nigga?”

“I ain't LeShelle.”

“Exactly!” He gets all up in my face. “A nigga like Python needs a bitch who can hold it down in the time of war. You're out here hollering like some crackhead who has been cut off. Where the fuck is your head at, girl? Pull your shit together and look around. His boys are laughing at you. You think that's gonna convince him to make you wifey?”

The backs of my eyes are burning with tears because I know this nigga ain't speaking nothing but the truth.

“Look. I like you. I ain't forgot how you hooked me and my fallen nigga, Tyga, up in the VIP that one time. But you need to fall back and rethink your position. You ain't gonna get what you want this muthafuckin' way.” He steps back and slams my car door. “Go home . . . and think on that shit.”

After a few quiet seconds, I stare at him, but then I reach over and start my car. When I pull out of the parking lot and glance down at the blood and bruises purpling my body, my tears flow freely down my face.

LeShelle. LeShelle. LeShelle.

I'm so sick and tired of that fucking bitch that I don't know what to fucking do.

Only a retarded muthafucka would keep doing the same thing over and over again and expect different results.
Baby's voice echoes over and over in my head. Then it's clear to me that this fucking city ain't big enough for the two of us.