Street Divas (24 page)

I
've never owned a gun before, but I've seen enough niggas use these muthafuckas to do what I gotta do. The way I figure it, murking LeShelle's ass is gonna be a twofer. Justice for Baby Thug and getting my ass back in the game. All I need now is a way to smoke the bitch out, and then this beautiful semiautomatic I got for a couple of Benjamins is going to do the rest.

I know that Pit Bull is having a birthday party at Passions. I could roll over there and see if LeShelle puts in face time. If she does, I can be right there waiting to blast her ass back to the devil.

My smile grows as I take a couple of practice aims at the sixty-inch television screen in my living room. I keep imagining that the news anchor is LeShelle's big monkey head. “RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT! You're dead bitch.”

Fuck. What I would give to see her head exploding in front of my eyes. If I could, I'd run up and spit on her ass, too. Shit. I should've done this shit a long time ago. Maybe if I'd wised up after LeShelle had pistol-whipped my ass at FabDivas, Baby would still be here with me now.

I suck in a deep breath while regret crashes around inside of me. It shouldn't have been up to Baby to defend me. This gun right here could've easily rock-a-byed LeShelle's ass with quickness. Once LeShelle is out of the picture, I know Python will come back over here, looking for a shoulder and some ass to bury his troubles away in.

Shaking my head, I realize more than ever my mistake in rolling over to the construction company and making a big fool of myself. I wasn't expecting Python to come at me sideways. I'm going to fix everything.

I kiss the tip of my gun.

“You're going to fix all my troubles, aren't you, baby?” I smile. “Baby. That's what I'll call you. My new Baby Thug.”

There is a rattle at the front door, but the chain on it stops my uninvited guest from just strolling into the apartment
.

Who in the fuck?
I jump straight up from the sofa and clumsily drop my new gat. Thank God the muthafucka isn't loaded or I would probably have shot my damn foot off.

“Yolanda,” Python barks. “Why the fuck is this chain on the door?”

“Oh, shit.” I glance around the apartment and then try to bend over and pick up my gun, but I'm still sore and stiff from being dragged across concrete, and this big-ass belly isn't helping matters either. I end up kicking the muthafucka under the sofa. “Here I come!”

“What the fuck are you doing?” he hollers back. “You tryna hide a nigga up in here?”

“What? Don't be ridiculous!” I rush toward the door, doing this running wobble kind of thing. It's the best I can do since my whole left side is still sore like a muthafucka. When I get a few feet away, Python throws his shoulder into it and breaks the chain right off.

I stop and stare at his big ass as he strolls into this muthafucka like he owns the fucking place.

“You took too damn long,” he says, walking past me and looking around.

“Sorry,” I say, but then slide on a smile. I rethink my whole program. Maybe I did do right by going out to see him. It got his ass over here. I want to launch into his arms, but clearly that has to wait until he checks out the entire apartment to make sure that I really don't have some nigga stashed up here somewhere. “Satisfied?” I ask when he makes his way back to the living room.

Python grunts.

I ignore his sour mood and throw my arms around his thick neck and rain kisses all over his face. “I've missed you, baby, so much. Muah. Muah. Muah.”

He rolls his eyes, but I can tell that he loves this shit. All niggas love attention—forget what you've heard. “All right. All right.”

“You scared me, baby. I would never do no stupid shit like cheat on you. You got to know that. You got my word on that shit.” Before I know it, tears stream down my face. I can't help it. The stress of the last couple of months hits me all at once.

Python looks at me and my tears and doesn't say anything.

Fear pricks my heart again. Am I reading too much in his ass showing up here? I ease my arms down from around his neck and step back, but I keep my smile in place. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“Naw. I'm good.”

That fear spreads. Niggas don't turn down food. “How about a beer?”

“Yeah. A'ight. Cool.” His black gaze settles on me, and I try to tell what he's thinking, but the muthafucka is blessed with the perfect poker face.

“Okay. Make yourself at home,” I tell him, and then rush off to grab him a beer. While I'm in the kitchen, I pull myself together by taking several deep breaths. The shit doesn't work. Regardless, I return to the living room with his cold beer and a smile on my face. “Here you go, baby.”

Python made himself comfortable, stretched out in the center of the sofa with his arms spread across the back. His eyes lock onto my bulging belly.

I've seen that look before. It's the same one my other baby daddies got when they were trying to convince themselves that the baby you're carrying ain't theirs. Typical bullshit.

“You know we're getting a blood test, right?” Python says.

“Whatever you want, baby.” I ease down next to him, but it turns into something more like a plop.

“Uh-huh.” He stares at me. “Since you supposedly ain't fucking nobody else, what have you been doing this last couple of months while I was gone?”

I shrug. “Nothing. I've been waiting on you.” I slide against him, as close as I can, and then walk my fingers up his chest. “I've been waiting for you to come back home—where you belong.”

His black gaze roams over to my big titties. “Damn. Those muthafuckas have gotten big as shit.”

I cup them up and give them a big squeeze. “You like them?”

“What's not to like?”

He reaches over and pinches my shit hard. The pain that ripples across my face gives him an instant hard-on. “I've missed playing with you,” he says, and then pulls the top of my gown off. My big titties bounce free, and the next thing I know, he's biting and gnawing on my shit like a starved animal.

Sex with Python has always been a painful event, but tonight it's even more so because every ounce of my body is either sensitive from the pregnancy or sore from McGriff dragging my ass around. My painful whimpers and sharp breaths just play like music in Python's ear.

I watch as his dick creeps down the inseam of his jeans. That's all right. I'm going to handle whatever this muthafucka tosses my way like a damn soldier. I can't afford not to.

When he rips the rest of the gown off my body, his head pops off my glazed and chewed titties, and he stares at the large scrape marks across the left side of my body, which are black and blue now. Python reaches over and presses a hand against it.

I suck in a sharp breath.

His gaze shifts to my face, and then he presses down again.

I hold my breath, but I can't do anything about the pain rippling across my face.

Then he surprises me by saying, “Sorry about that. I'll talk to McGriff about this shit.” He pulls away and stretches back with his beer.

Is that it? He's not going to touch me now?

To confirm that shit, he sets his beer down and stands up.

I scramble to grab his hands. “Wait. Don't go!”

He looks down at me.

“I . . . I was hoping that I'd get the chance to show you just how much I've missed you.” I tug him back down onto the sofa and waste no time trying to get his dick free of his pants.

“Nah. Nah. I didn't even come over here for this. I want to let you know that until the blood test—”

“Python, I ain't been fuckin' no other niggas since we hooked up. I wouldn't do that shit. So squash whatever the fuck LeShelle has been spitting in your ear. She just wants your ass to herself—that greedy bitch!” Realizing that I might have crossed a line, I look up at him with pleading eyes. “She don't know that a powerful nigga like you needs a lot to be satisfied. I'll cook for you, clean for you, and give you all the babies you want.” I'm hitting all the right notes, because my nigga is smiling as he caresses the side of my face.

“You really care for a nigga, huh?”

I grab his hand and kiss it. “More than you'll ever know.”

“Then show me.” He thrusts his hips forward.

Shit. He doesn't have to ask my ass twice. I spring that fat monster out of his jeans and start slobbering and choking on his meat the way he fucking likes it.

“Sssssssss.” Python runs his hands through my hair until he grips the back of my head and holds me in place.

After that, my mouth is another pussy to him. He starts pounding against my tonsils like a boxer on a speed bag. When I think I'm getting used to the rhythm and can steal some air, he changes up and holds his shit against my windpipe and grinds his hips.

I can't breathe, my chest hurts, and I'm starting to black out.

“That's it, baby. Show your nigga how much you love this shit.”

I resist the temptation to push his hips back.

“That's it, baby. Sssssssss. You love me?”

Since I can't speak, I nod my head.

“You'd do anything for me?”

I nod again.

“You'd blast niggas for me?”

Nod.

“Lie for me?”

Nod.

“Die for me?”

Nod.

He laughs and grinds his hips some more. “If I asked you to die choking on this dick, you'd do that shit, baby?”

What?

He laughs again. “I asked you a question, Yo-Yo. You think your ass is better than what I got at home, so answer the muthafuckin' question. If I fuckin' choke you out with this dick right now, that's okay with you?”

Is he fucking for real?
My mind scrambles for something, but I'm starting to get a pain in my head and I feel weak. I muster up the courage to nod. As clear as a bell, Baby's voice comes to me:
stupid ho.

Above me, Python's entire body shakes while he laughs, but at least he releases my head and whips his cock out of my mouth. I collapse onto the floor. The first gust of air is as painful as my scraped-up ass. After a while, my head clears, but I'm panting like a dog with tears rolling down my face.

Python gets down on the floor behind me and delivers a slap on my ass so hard that I cry out. “Get on your knees.”

I almost ask for him to give me a couple more seconds, but I'm supposed to be proving myself worthy to be wifey, so I squash that shit. Trembling and shaking, I get into the doggy-style position.

“Ahhh. Look at this ass,” he praises, and then delivers a second slap. “I've fucking missed this muthafucka.”

Slap!

He spreads my ass cheeks. “This fat bitch, here. Sssssss.” Python leans forward and swishes that forked tongue around the rim of my asshole, and I fucking melt like butter.

“Mmmmm,” he moans. He reaches down and jacks his dick while his tongue makes a deep Dumpster dive.

That choking shit floats right out of my mind as Python washes all four walls of my ass, but minutes later when he crams his thick, mushroom-headed cock through that same hole with one stroke, the pain roars back to life.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” he groans, stroking and slapping my ass like I fuckin' owe his ass money.

“You like that, baby?” I ask, my voice raspy as fuck.

“Work it, Yo-Yo.” He holds his hands up in the air while I make my booty clap around his dick. “Yeah, get that shit, girl. Ssssss.”

It's like old times up in this muthafucka. A few times I get his ass to call out my name, and other times I'm in so much pain that it actually feels good. One thing for sure—we stay at it for hours until there's cum dripping out my ass, off my back, and out of my hair.

I'm definitely back in the game.

Hours later, I lift my head and see we've made it to the bed. We've jacked it up, and the room smells like musk and pussy, but that's okay. I put his ass to sleep, too. Smiling, I wiggle my fat ass against his growing hard-on until he starts to wake up.

Python moans and stretches behind me. Without even opening his eyes, he reaches between our bodies and slides his dick back into my ass, lifts my leg high into the air, and strokes for another nut. After he blasts off, he looks around to see where the fuck he is. “What time is it?”

“I don't know. Late.”

“FUCK!” Python springs out of bed. “I gotta go.”

“Oh,” I moan disappointedly. “Do you have to?”

“Hell, yeah. I don't want to hear LeShelle's mouth that I left her with Christopher again.”

“Humph. Since she can't have babies, the least she can do is babysit from time to time.”

Python's gaze cuts back over to me.

I fold my arms and keep my funky attitude in place. “What? It's the truth. I don't know why you put up with half a woman anyway.”

“That's the last one. I done told you about staying in your lane. Keep my girl's name out your mouth.”

“I'm your girl, too.”

“Yeah. But I'm giving
her
my last name.”

“What?” This nigga didn't say what I think he said.

He shrugs his big shoulders as if he just told me the weather. “I'm making it official. Before the summer is out, LeShelle is going to be Mrs. Carver. Deal with it.”

“P
lease, please, I'll be good,” Christopher whines, backing himself into a corner.

I roll my eyes. “Oh, God. Here you go. Stop whining. Ain't nobody hurting you. Get over here in this bed, boy.”

“I don't like it when you tie me down in the bed.”

“Did I ask you what the hell you liked?” I yell through gritted teeth. This boy seriously doesn't know how close I am to bouncing his ass off every wall in this bitch. He's nothing but a spoiled brat who doesn't know how good his ass has it up in here. “Get over here, Chris. You won't like it one bit if I have to chase your ass around this muthafucka.”

Christopher inches toward me.

“And if you piss on yourself again, I'm whupping your ass. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma'am.” His lips tremble as he swipes away his tears and climbs into the bed.

I start tying him down with nylon rope. Still he has the nerve to be up in here sniffing and crying. “Cut it out,” I snap. “I wouldn't have to do this shit if your damn daddy knew how to bring his ass home some damn time. But nooooo. He thinks chasing pussy is more important than taking care of his own damn kid. Well, fuck that shit. I ain't the bitch to be sitting on a damn shelf, flicking my clit until he feels like rolling his ass over here. If he's going to be out in the streets, then, dammit, so am I.”

“Ow!” Christopher yelps. “That's too tight.”

“Boy, if you don't man the fuck up . . . It's tight because I don't want your ass to move.”

Fat crocodile tears roll down the boy's face.

“Your damn momma should be rolling around in her grave. She ain't done nothing but raise a big fucking crybaby.” The smell of piss hits my nose. “What the fuck?” I look down and see this big fucking pee stain spreading across my good white sheets. I reflexively pop this nigga on the side of his big-ass watermelon head. “What the fuck did I tell you?”

Christopher breaks down whimpering and crying.

“You know what? You want to be a big baby and piss on yourself, then fine. You're going to lie in that piss.” This muthafucka starts crying harder and working my nerves.

“Please, Ms. LeShelle. Don't tie me down. I won't go nowhere. Please.”

“I swear to God. You don't know how good your ass has it. You got a roof over your head. We feed you. Ain't nobody beating your ass or sneaking in here in the middle of the night and doing all kinds of perverted shit to you. I wish all I had to do was lie in bed and go to sleep. Now shut the fuck up and take your ass to sleep before I really give you something to cry about.”

Christopher presses his lips together, but he still sniffs and whines like a little bitch. I shake my head. This little cum stain is the spitting image of his father, right down to the horseshoe-shaped birthmark on his neck.

I turn and storm out of the room before I do something to his lil ass I'll regret. In my bedroom, I grab this sexy black lace see-through dress and shimmy it over my silver rhinestone pasties on my nipples and matching thong. Afterward, I take one look in the mirror. I feel and look like the fuckin' queen that I am. After sliding my feet into some cute Louboutin heels, I grab my clutch bag and then stroll my fine ass out the door, tossing deuces to an empty bedroom.

The minute I roll up into Passions, I see the club bumping with all the usual suspects. “Goddamn it feels good to be home,” I shout above the music, and watch as niggas' heads whip around.

“Damn, bitch,” Kookie and Pit Bull say in unison as they plow through the crowd to get at me.

Kookie takes the shit one step further. “Does Python know your ass is out here naked and shit?”

I roll my eyes. “I ain't studdin' that nigga. I'm out here doin' me.” Turning my smile toward Pit Bull, I reach into my clutch and hand her ass a small box. “Happy birthday, bitch. Don't say I ain't never got you nothing.”

“Thanks, girl. C'mon over to our booth. We're tossing up bottles of Cristal and puffing on some of that blueberry AK-47 that you like.”

“Puff, puff, pass, bitches!”

“Holler!” Pit Bull holds up her glass and takes me by the hand.

As we make our way through the club, I grin and cheese my ass off as niggas damn near give themselves whiplash as I walk by. Some of them are even licking their lips and twisting up their faces as if I was putting a hurting on their damn hard-ons. Now the game is to see which of these muthafuckas are going to be man enough to step to me and not fear the blowback from Python. Shit. There's no crime in dancing with a muthafucka.

“Here you go, girl,” Pit Bulls says, handing me a drink. “Happy birthday to me and hallelujah that you came out of your cave to come hang with your girls tonight.”

The family of Queen Gs sitting at the table all hold up their glasses and shout, “Cheers, bitches!”

After I toss back a few sips of my drink and hit one of Pit Bull's fat blunts that's been in serious rotation a couple of times, I'm relaxed as fuck and scanning the crowd again looking for the right nigga to man up.

“Shit. I don't blame you for bouncing tonight,” Kookie says, reaching for the blunt in my hand. “With Lemonhead back on the scene, I'm sure you need to blow off some steam.”

I twist my neck around. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Kookie pretends to look shocked. “What? You don't know, girl? McGriff told me that jump-off had the nerve to roll her retarded ass up over at the construction warehouse, demanding to see Python. Showed her ass off real good.”

This bitch just blew my muthafuckin' high. “Girl, I ain't studdin' that yellow bitch,” I lie.

“I know you ain't, girl. And I don't blame you. Python probably rolled over there tonight to set her ass straight.”

“He did what?”

She continues with her innocent act. “Didn't you know? McGriff texted me before I left tonight that he and his niggas are parked outside on security.” She glances at her diamond Rolex. “Shit. That was a while ago.” She presses the blunt against her lips and takes a deep toke and then slowly blows that shit into my face.

No this bitch didn't.

Knowing exactly what this bitch is doing, I pop up out of my chair and pimp-slap her ass straight out of the muthafuckin' booth.

“DAMN!” the entire table roars as they bounce up out of their seats to try and get a better view.

“What the fuck?” Kookie yells, clutching the side of her face.

“I'm getting sick of your ass tryna rise up, bitch!” I rear back and kick her upside the fuckin' head. “Have you forgotten who the fuck I am?”

Dazed, Kookie tries to scramble away, but I grab hold of the back of her head and snatch out two of her tracks.

“LeShelle, please—
stop
!”

“You want me to stop, then apologize, bitch.” I deliver a second kick to the side of her gut that she has strapped down with a couple gridles.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry,” she says after I've chased her ass all the way to the fuckin' dance floor.

I force myself to stop kicking, but I stand over her while blood drips from her mouth and nose. “If you
ever
come at me sideways again, I'll put a fuckin' bullet in the back of your goddamn head and then piss on your muthafuckin' grave. You hear me, bitch?”

Kookie nods while she tries to breathe with a cracked rib.

Not until I turn to storm back to the booth do I even realize that the music has stopped and the entire club has formed a huge circle around us. “What the fuck? I thought we were having a fuckin' party up in here?”

On cue, the DJ pumps the music again, and niggas part to let my ass through. When I make it back to the booth, I pluck the blunt out of rotation and grab my clutch. “I'll catch up with you bitches later.”

“You're leaving?” Pit Bull asks, unconcerned about her partner in crime still bleeding over by the dance floor.

“Yeah, girl. This fuckin' club is whack. You do you.” I stop. “Consider my ass not stomping you into the floor with your lil buddy over there as another birthday gift.”

“But—”

“Bye, bitch.” Puffing on their shit, I strut out of the club. The minute I walk out of the fuckin' door, my mind zooms back to Python and his creeping ass. Once again, every miscellaneous bitch on the street knows what time it is before my ass does, and I'm getting fuckin' tired of this shit.

Calling Python all kinds of muthafuckas as I march back to the car, my ass actually slips up and I don't even hear muthafuckas coming up behind me until it's almost too late. My hand dives into my clutch, and when I turn around, I have my cute .38 ready to blast.

“Yo, white flag,” this young bitch yells at me.

I frown at her scarred-up cheeks and then glance at the two chicks standing behind her. “Start talking because I don't know you bitches.”

“That's all right because I ain't looking for no new friends, especially with a bitch whose sister fucked up my face.”

She got my attention with that. I take another look at the ugly gashes on the chick's face, and I feel a certain level of pride in Ta'Shara's handiwork. Who in the fuck knew that she even had that shit in her? “So what the fuck do you want, and why the hell are you rollin' up on me in the middle of the night if you're not looking to get blasted?”

“Look, if I wanted to blast, I would have got your ass the minute you strolled out of that muthafuckin' club. Shit. I'd even be a hero, considering the price on your head for dumping a whole clip into our chief's lil brother—especially now that his ass is awake.”

“What?”

“Oh? You didn't know about that, did you? Yep. Ta'Shara's boyfriend is up and talking. Shit. If you think we've been painting the streets with your soldiers' blood, you ain't seen nothing now that Fat Ace is rehabbing, too.”

“Well, ain't you the muthafuckin' snitch?”

“You mean sort of like that lil bitch Essence you got patrolling the hospital?”

I smile. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Of course not. Just like you don't know that she's been snitching on you to Lucifer.”

My eyes narrow on this bitch.

She cheeses at me. “She's the one who gave up those niggas who raped Ta' Shara. It's just a matter of time before Lucifer comes after you. C'mon, after what the fuck you did, you think we'd let a Queen G visit Profit without a reason ?”

Damn. I can't even find a good-ass snitch in these streets.

“So what do you want?” I ask, tired of waiting for her to get to the point.

“I want you to dust the bitch off.”

I laugh. “You come to me to do your wet work?”

“Orders on high say that the girl can't be touched, but if you knocked her off . . .”

“The last thing on my bucket list is to do a muthafuckin' Flower a favor,” I sneer, opening the car door. There's a piece of paper taped onto the steering wheel. I pick it up and read,
TICKTOCK.

Suddenly there's a squeal of tires, and I look up in time to see a silver Terrain blazing down the street. “FUCK! GET DOWN!”

We all dive for cover.

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Bullet after bullet slams into my Crown Victoria, shattering the windows and causing glass to cascade over us.

“TICKTOCK, BITCH!”

A second later, we all lift our heads with our gats cocked and ready to blast back, but the silver SUV is gone.

“Who in the fuck was that?”

I look down at the piece of paper in my hand and laugh. “You know what, ladies? I think that we can do business together.”