Street Divas (26 page)

“Y
ou're in over your head,” Cleo says.

I plop two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches down on the cluttered dining room table and holler, “Jamie, Kay, come and eat!”

Cleo switches her hips and folds her arms as she glares at me. “E, don't fuckin' ignore me. I'm serious about this shit. You've been rolling up there to that damn hospital long enough. That nigga ain't your problem, and I'm sorry to say, but your girl Ta'Shara is as fucked up in that damn mental hospital.”

I cut my eyes over at her as the kids run to the table.

Cleo throws her hands up. “Sorry, but I'm keeping it one hundred. Stop running your ass up there, tryna play inch high private eye for LeShelle. The girl is our leader and shit, but everybody knows her lightbulb ain't screwed in too tight. When you deal with crazy, you get crazy.”

“I know that,” I say, shaking my head. “But it ain't like I got a choice.”

Kobe strolls his ass into the mix. “Fuck. Niggas always got choices. You got to learn how to make the right ones.”

Cleo gestures toward our brother like,
See?

I roll my eyes and try to storm away from the table, but my sister blocks my path.

“We ain't done talking,” she says, rocking her neck.

“I don't know why. I done said all I have to say.”

“And what's that? I'm a stupid muthafucka? Is that what you're saying? Because that's what I'm hearing.” Cleo turns toward Kobe. “What about you, brah?”

“Not only that but you have ‘Re-Re' stamped across your forehead.”

Insulted, I reach over and pop him on the arm. “I'm not
retarded
!”

“Then how about you stop acting like it?”

Like a couple of parakeets, Jamie and Kay start pounding their hands on the table and chanting with their mouths stuffed with peanut butter. “RE-RE! RE-RE! RE-RE!”

I mush Jamie in the back of the head. “Y'all shut the hell up and eat your lunch.”

The kids giggle while I roll my eyes and try to get past my sister, but she and Kobe still ain't budging.

“C'mon, y'all. I got to get going if I'm gonna go.”

“That's the whole fuckin' point,” Cleo says, now mushing me in the center of my forehead. “You ain't going no more. Game is game, but family is family and I'm putting my foot down on this.”

I grind my teeth.

Cleo looks ready to whup my ass. “You can catch an attitude all you want, lil girl, but I'm doing this to save your hardheaded ass. I ain't gonna be the one to tell Grandma that your ass is in the morgue because of some other bitch's bullshit.”

Kobe shakes his head. “I can't figure out why those crooked hooks let you stroll up in the hospital to see that nigga any damn way. How the fuck you gettin' a Vice Lord pass?”

His boys in the living room playing on the PlayStation pause their shit and eyeball me in my damn mouth.

“Like I said, they know that I'm best friends with Ta'Shara. Everybody knows how Profit loves her ass, so they're letting me slide.”

Kobe's eyes snap back so fast it's a wonder they ain't rolling around on the floor. “That sounds like some weak-ass bullshit to me.”

“Exactly,” Cleo says, shaking her head. “Either those niggas are playing you or you're tryna play LeShelle. Either muthafuckin' way, you're going to come up shorter than you already are.”

“Yeah,” Kobe cosigns. “That's going to bring heat over to this crib, and it's time-out for all of that bullshit. I ain't having it. Fuck. Did you forget how they found Treasure, Mario, Killa Kyle?” He grips his shit as he shakes his head. “That shit was fuckin' foul.”

Heat burns up the side of my face. I'm the one who served those bastards up to Lucifer, and I ain't sorry about that shit. Not one damn bit.

Cleo's eyes narrow on me, and for a split second I'm scared the bitch can hear my thoughts. “What's the fuckin' problem? You've peeped in on him for months. Surely that's enough to satisfy LeShelle. Tell her that the Vice Lords canceled your free pass and get the fuck on.”

“Shit,” Kobe says. “If they hit Treasure and Mario, them niggas already know LeShelle was behind the attempted hit on their man. Get your ass up out of this shit.”

“I'm not doing this shit for LeShelle,” I snap, tired of the sermon.

Cleo's brows jump, but her eyes light up like I confirmed something. “Then who in the hell are you doing it for?”

I hesitate and then blurt out a half-truth. “Ta'Shara.”

My sister's face twists. She ain't buying that shit.

Doesn't matter, I'm sticking to that lie for all it's worth. “When I go and talk to Ta'Shara, I feel that hearing about Profit hanging in there is giving her encouragement to do the same thing. I want her to snap out of this shit.”

I may as well be talking to a brick wall.

“So excuse me,” I say, shoving past them and storming back toward my bedroom. “I don't abandon my friends like you fair-weather muthafuckas.” As I pass the living room, I flash all those nosy muthafuckas the bird. “Damn. Why don't y'all take your asses home?”

Two minutes later, I'm cramming my feet into my Nikes when Cleo strolls into our bedroom, clapping her hands. “You need to get out of here and take your ass to Hollywood.”

“Will you squash this shit already? I'm tired of talking about it.”

“We will when you admit that the real reason you keep creeping your ass over to that hospital is because you're falling for your girl's man.”

I stop wiggling my feet into my sneakers and look up at her.

Cleo's smug smile grows bigger. “Yeah. I got your muthafuckin' number. If you want to keep your fuckin' secrets, you need to stop talking in your sleep.”

I blink at her.

“Close your mouth before flies come flying out of that muthafucka.”

Hell, I didn't even know that the muthafucka was open. “What in the hell do you expect me to do when you say some dumb shit like that?” I rebound.

“Uh-huh. Girl, stop playing yourself. Didn't you warn your girl about this same bullshit? What the fuck is it with this nigga that got you two stuck on stupid?”

Silence.

“HUH?!”

“Look, Cleo, I gotta go.” I hurry up and get my ass out of there. Pulling out of my grandmomma's driveway, I can't help but note how quiet the street is. No lookout boys, no corner hustlers, and no hoes on patrol.

It's dead out here. A hood ghost town, waiting for night to fall so some shit can pop off—and our bloody war with the Vice Lords can resume with its regularly scheduled program.

I fly out toward the hospital but then notice my gas tank is sitting on empty. I roll up into a corner station, hoping I got some money in my pocket. I pull behind a rusted-out '72 Buick Electra. I'd know this muthafucking car anywhere. I take a second to look at the nigga pumping gas and can't believe my eyes.

“Drey?”

He turns his head and I still don't recognize his ass. I climb out from behind the wheel and remove my shades. This nigga's face looks like it's been put through a meat grinder.

“What in the hell happened to you?” I rush up to him to get a better look.

Drey sneers or at least I think he's sneering. It's hard to tell since he is missing a left ear, his right eye looks permanently swollen, and his lips look as if they are busted or completely allergic to one another.

“Fuck,” he groans, and steps back. “You need to stay the fuck away from me.”

I blink. To top it all off, this nigga is missing about four or five teeth. “What the fuck? It ain't like I'm the one who rearranged your face.”

“The fuck you didn't.” He looks around. “It's because my stupid ass listened to you and helped you with that psycho bitch that those grimy hooks showed up at my muthafuckin' front door. THEY FUCKIN' TORTURED ME!” he roars.

Muthafuckas turn and look at us. “Damn. Calm down,” I say.

“Calm down? Bitch, look at my face! Since they peeped our asses dumping that girl at her front door, they assumed that
I
had something to do with that nigga Profit lying up in the hospital. None of my screaming and bleeding convinced them otherwise.”

I suck in a sharp breath, but then as fast remember Lucifer knowing all about prom night when she snatched me up in the hospital hallway that day. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck.” He bounces his head as his one good eye narrows on me. “How the fuck is it that you are walking around looking like the perfect picture of good health? Those niggas didn't come after you?”

“I . . . uh . . .” I can't think of anything to say. I'm certainly not about to spit out the truth. Unfortunately, my lack of defense or a plausible lie only makes him angrier. “You a fuckin' snitching bitch. You sicced those niggas on me, didn't you?”

“What? Don't be stupid. Why would I do that?”

“Something is up. So spit it.”

“Yo, nigga. Calm down. I don't know what to tell you. They didn't come at me like that.”

“That's the second damn time you done told me to calm down.” Drey starts walking toward me, and I start backing up. “I don't believe this shit! I should've put two and two together a long time ago, but I've been too busy trying to learn how to breathe with a collapsed lung. I told your ass that I didn't want to get involved with that bullshit. Now look at me!” He grabs me by the arms and shakes me. “LOOK AT ME!”

His fucked-up eye twitches and shit, and some weird puss oozes out of the scar on his right cheek.

Cringing, I pull away, but Drey's grip tightens to the point he's about to break my arm. “Let me go, goddamn it! Let me go!” I snatch my arm away and then turn to run back to my car, but I pull up short at the figure standing behind me.

“Le Shelle.”

She smiles. “You've been a bad girl.”

Fear chokes off my air supply. “What?”

LeShelle cocks her head. “That's all you got?”

I try to inch my way around her. “Well . . . I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Fuck. No wonder you and Ta'Shara are best friends. You bitches got the same muthafuckin' problem: thinking my ass is stupid.”

“Look. I don't know what—”

“Spare me. I had a little talk with your friend Qiana. I know your ass has been double snitching. You gave up my boys Treasure and Mario.”

“What?” I desperately glance over at Drey, but he folds his arms and shakes his head. “Wait now. LeShelle—”

“Save it. You done made your fuckin' bed—now lie in that bitch.” She snatches the gas pump out of Drey's tank and then hoses my ass down with gasoline.

The strong fumes singe my nostrils and burn my eyes but not so much that I don't realize that I need to get my ass away from this crazy bitch. I break away and run back toward my car.

“Where the fuck you going, E?” LeShelle rushes behind me.

I hop behind the wheel and turn the key, but my car stalls.

“Run, rat, run!” LeShelle laughs.

I turn the key again and then hit the button for the power window.

“I got something for your snitching ass.” LeShelle flicks on a lighter and tosses the muthafucka.

I watch in horror as it stays lit and sails through my window.

“NO! NO! NO!”

WHOOOSH!!

“ W
hat the fuck are you talking about?” Isaac thunders, throwing his weight back against his chair and mean mugging me like I've lost my mind.

“It's a simple question,” I say, and go back to holding my breath.

“I ain't answering that bullshit,” he barks. “That's what you brought your ass down here for? You wanna sweat me about some bullshit that floats around in your mind?”

I can't help but laugh. “Is this seriously how you want to play this?”

He twists in his seat and looks everywhere but in my face.

A sharp pain stabs me in the center of my chest. “You know what? You ain't even got to say shit. How you actin' is all the confirmation I need.”

Isaac shakes his big, bald head as if by doing that shit he can avoid taking responsibility for the dirt he wallowed in while he was roaming the streets.

“Look. I'm far from stupid, Isaac. And it ain't like I don't know that your ass was addicted to pussy the entire time we were together. Me walking in on you and Josie was confirmation enough that you didn't have any kind of respect for me.”

“And what about you? You gonna tell me that you weren't dishing your dirt? You got that pussy on lockdown while I'm up in this bitch, serving my bid?”

“Hell fucking naw. I'm getting plenty of dick, fuck you very much. And don't change the muthafuckin' subject. While you were out here like every other ho on patrol, did you knock up my sister? Yes or no?”

“I don't fuckin' know!” he shouts.

We stare at each other while his words linger between us for a full minute.

“You don't fuckin' know?” I repeat. “But you
do
know whether or not you put your dick into my sister, right?”

Isaac sucks in an impatient breath, but then finally leans forward and plants his elbows on the counter. “Peaches . . . it was a long time ago. The shit didn't mean nothing to me.”

“FUCK. YOU.” I jump up from my chair and slam my fist against the Plexiglas. “Be glad this muthafucka is here because I would seriously fuck you up!”

The guards jump to attention. Two come charging up behind me and grab me before my fists fly again. “You worthless piece of shit. I fuckin' hate your ass.”

Isaac is on his feet, staring at me like I've really lost it.

Meanwhile, I keep hollering. I have to do something to avoid the guilt that is threatening to crush my chest in. Of all people, Isaac
knew
how fragile my sister was. I had poured my heart out to him about how guilty I've always felt for the part I played in her being raped when she was a teenager. I told him through my tears about my struggle of dealing with her drug problems and juggling that with taking care of my ailing grandmother. I shouldered the burden of caring for Terrell while she was doing God knows what with God knows who. And he what, ran his ass over there and possibly put another baby on her?

“Where's Mason, Isaac?” I shout while being dragged backward. “What the fuck did you do with Mason?”

“I didn't have shit to do with that bullshit,” he shouts back with his own guards trying to extract him from the room.

“Bullshit!” How the fuck can I believe anything this nigga says now? All these fucking years, he never once said or acknowledged that maybe it was
his
son who had gone missing. Never once did he even try to look for him. He watched me day after day go crazy, wondering where that poor child could be. Who Alice sold him to or what sick bastard stole him out of his home.

All these years, I let my fucking heart ignore and dismiss a whole lot of things because . . . what? What the hell was I thinking? I can't even remember anymore. By the time I'm back at my car, I'm literally sick to my stomach. For all my fucking street smarts, how come I always pick the worst men? Why have I always picked liars, addicts, and rapists?

I sit there a long fucking time, feeling sorry for myself before my mind drifts back to the man I got waiting for me at home. Cedric. Sure he's the son of my first love and technically my parole officer, but at least he's got his shit together. He ain't out here in these streets chasing fifteen cents and slinging bullets around like life is one big-ass video game. No. He's a grown-up.

“And he loves me.” I lift my head and meet my eyes in the rearview mirror. “
And
he wants to marry me,” I remind myself. Though I seriously doubt my ass really wants to get married again, I do feel better knowing that I got somebody at home who cares for me.

“Fuck you, Isaac.” I start the car, flip the prison building the bird, and then blaze up out of there.

By the time I get to Shotgun Row, I'm feeling a little more like my old self. I push Isaac and all his lies to the back of my mind as I park and climb out of the car. In case Betty or Josie is hanging around, I push on a smile so that those haters don't get the ghetto grapevine going.

However, as I stroll up the porch steps, I get this weird feeling churning in my belly, and the hairs on the backs of my arms and neck stand up. When I push open the door, those feelings only intensify.

“Cedric?” I call out, shutting the front door behind me. “Baby, I'm back.” I move through the house.
Maybe he's taking a nap?

I hold still for a second and then strain my ears to catch any strange sounds. The whole thing gives me a sense of déjà vu as I creep toward the bedroom. Yet, when I step into the bedroom, I see Cedric stretched out on the floor with blood pooling around his head. “Shit!”

Rushing over to him, I drop down to check and see if he's even breathing. But the minute I touch him, I know he's gone.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I need to go get help.
I jump to my feet and turn, but then gasp aloud when I see this bitch standing behind me.

“Hello, Maybelline.”

Despite the long silver hair, recognition settles in. “Alice?”

She gives me a thin smile. “Glad to know that you remember me.”

Before I can say another fucking word, this bitch swings and hits me with something so hard that it knocks me the fuck out.