Thug Matrimony
Authors: Wahida Clark
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2007 by Wahida Clark
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eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-6729-0
eISBN-10: 0-7582-6729-0
First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: April 2007
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
All praise is due to the Creator. I thank Him for always coming through for me in time, on time, all the time.
My husband, thank you for holding it down for a sista. We only have a few more months of this madness. To our daughters, Hasana and Wahida, I am very proud of both of you. Wahida, good lookin’ out on the lyrics for Lil’E.
To the rest of the fam: my mom and dad of course. Love you both. Carla and Rob, glad you two are home safe from Iraq. Carla, you always have your family’s back. Thank you for all of your sacrifices. To my bestest Aunt Ann, I love you. Aunt Sis, hang in there a little while longer. Aunt Ginger and Aunt Marva, you two have been writing me; and Aunt Ginger sending me money my entire bid. I love you as well. My cousin Jay Harris. Where are you? I miss you. My baby brother, Melvin, we gonna do this right this time, feel me? Love you and my nephews Tyrece & Damar.
My spiritual brothers and sisters. Can’t wait to be in your midst to assist in doing our Father’s work. Your dedication is inspirational. Gina, you took the torch from Kisha and are now holding it down. Words cannot express my appreciation. To Aisha Nobel Samataha, Hadiyah, Al Nisa, and Omar for driving my girls down to see me. And to the rest of the fam, you are appreciated and you know who you are.
Now for all those who was down with my personal grind: Sylvia Ryan Webster, thanks for always being there. Dee Favors, did we put in work or what? We thought it would never end! I know
this has been an experience you’ll never forget. Little Yalanda Carter, Sun Motley-Hill and Lashawn James, y’all are true team players. Watch out for the haters. Kisha Caldwell from the ‘D,’ you get double points: reader and hairdresser. Adriene Harrell, Barbara Hooker, Intelligent Tareef Allah, Angelia Ahladis, Courtney Moran: let’s stick to our game plan and make it happen. Show me the money!! Adiam Berhane, I appreciate all the research. Antoinette Boxley and my bad little protege Armeca Gargani: think before you speak, thank you very much.
Supreme, keep ya head up.
Thanks to my cheerleaders and motivators: Reyna Daniels, Big G. Ganaway, Fish, Carolyn Jackson, Ms. Carter, Hope and Natalie Leath.
To the rest of the Alderson crew, Catherine White, the biggest Tramp and my hair braider Teresa Ramseur, Char Romane, Tanya McNeil, Kim Moffet and the whole Moffet clan out of Charlotte who ran to Wal-mart for my book and brought them out. That was love. And Nick Kiser, whatever! Sheila Waller, Tawanna Clark, Linda Gleaton, Regina Thompson, Vee, Von, Kisha Wade and Renay Coachman.
Angela James and Shontay, thanks for the office space (smile). Another one of my hairdressers, Sprinkles, Patty Dukes Gabriel and Marissa Massey: may your mothers rest in peace and to all prisoners whose loved ones passed away while they were incarcerated.
To my Spanish mamis who helped me with translating the Spanish parts: Ana Castillo, Rosalbo Villegas, Marcelina Machuca, Wanda Rodriques, Señora Cruz and Diana.
The peeps who I forgot to mention in
Payback Is a Mutha:
my adopted niece Ella ‘Big El’ Camp, big up on graduating, Kim McDowell and Michelle Smith.
To my fellow authors who keep it gully and sent me books and mail: Kwame Teague, K. Elliot, Joe Black, Rob Booker, Paul Johnson, Paula Edwards, Jaeyl Imes, Crystal Perkins-Stell, Brenda L. Thomas, Nikki Turner, Diane and everyone—be on the lookout for Seth ‘Soul’ Man Ferranti. You are always on your grind. Got me that King piece and I’m sure many more to come. I appreciate you and respect your hustle. T. Styles, Hickson, Sha, Jason Poole, C-Murder, Fajr Bint—it’s a pleasure working with you.
A big, big shout-out to my Anthology contributors:
What’s Really Hood? Vol. I.
Lashonda Teague, Mo Foxx, Shawn ‘Jihad’ Trump, Bonta and Victor Martin.
Thanks to my agents Marc Gerald and Earl Cox. My editors Selena James and Karen Thomas. I’ll see you sistas soon.
Special thanks to all the book clubs, bookstores and vendors who are always on their grind. Can’t forget Don Diva, Street Felon and
Essence.
And saving the most important thanks for last: my readers. You are the best. I really do appreciate all of the love, support, fan mail and pictures. This one’s for you.
Peace & Love,
Wahida
[email protected]
Wahidaclarkpresents.com
P.S. Project Pat, everybody is asking me if you kept your word
and wore a FreeWahidaClark T-shirt on BET … Nope!
I
t’s my wedding day. I’m Angel Denise Smith but today I will officially become Mrs. Kaylin Santos. I am a corporate and entertainment attorney and I am marrying a retired drug dealer. He’s a young brother who comes from a big family and who legally has a recycling business and a record label. He has a four-year-old son by his ex, named Malik, whom I love to death. You should hear him call me Red, the nickname his daddy calls me. He’s a trip.
This has been a crazy day. For starters, last night I found out that I’m pregnant. My plan was to surprise my husband tonight on our honeymoon. But as fate would have it, I ate some salsa, guacamole, and spicy chips and two hours later my dream wedding gown, a hand-beaded mother-of-pearl, swarvoski-crystal Vera Wang, was being used as a vomit dispenser. I was devastated. Then what really pissed me off was when I sent for my husband to be, and these two uppity, bitch-ass wannabe wedding coordinators, who obviously forgot that I’m the one who signs their checks, had the nerve to tell me the bride is not supposed to see the groom or some ole off-the-wall bullshit like that. I went the fuck off! I told both of them hoes to “get ta stepping!” Shit, my husband to be, my baby, was the only one who could make it right and I needed him. Either that or call off the fucking
wedding, because it was going to be my way or the highway. And just as sure as the sun does shine, my baby handled things. He made everything all right, well, actually more than all right. After he found out that I was pregnant, he was ecstatic. Then he told me how much he loved me, how beautiful I am and how I make him complete. Even when I began stressing over the fact that I was ready to practice law at our record label and wasn’t sure about having a baby at this time, he made it all right again. He told me that the label wasn’t going anywhere so I might as well enjoy the pregnancy. He said that we had enough money to do whatever the fuck we wanted. And for me not to sweat the small shit. I was, like, “I know that’s right!”
Sensing that I was still stressing, he then asked me if I wanted him to get rid of all my tension. I purred, “Please do,” and closed my eyes as he began to run his tongue over my pregnant nipples. I didn’t give a damn about all the guests sitting downstairs waiting for our grand entrance. He then undressed me and spread my thighs so that he could look at my pregnant pussy. I could feel the juices trickle down as I watched my baby lick his lips while yanking off the Armani pants he was getting ready to walk down the aisle in.
Damn, this nigga is so fine,
I thought to myself. He began kissing the inside of my thighs and in four seconds flat, just like Lloyd Banks would say, “I’m on fire!” I grabbed that nigga’s head trying to guide it to the spot, but he wouldn’t allow it because he decided he wanted to tease. I thought I was gonna die! That’s when he eased three fingers inside me and began working my juicy pussy, but as soon as he saw I was about to nut he slid them out and told me to finish myself off. I was in pure ecstasy as he watched me take myself to the stairway to heaven. As soon as my legs started shaking my nigga crawled all the way up inside me. He was fucking me so good that I was screaming. We both busted our nuts at the same time. And believe you me, all of my tension was gone!
After about ten minutes he reminded me that we had a wedding
ceremony to perform and pictures to take. So we got up, showered together, and as soon as he got dressed he headed to get the photographer and our parents.
So now I have my dream wedding gown back on, vomit-free, and I’m sitting here at the vanity table looking in the mirror. Basically I’m just waiting on the photo session to commence. I have two group photos in front of me. The first one is of all the bridesmaids, and the picture is beautiful. We were having dinner at Kaylin’s mother’s house. Then my gaze goes over to my sho’nuff dawgs. I’m crying now because I’m looking at an eight-by-ten flick of me, and my girls Jaz, Tasha, and Kyra. We went to an Olan Mills studio to do this one, right before we all graduated. I can honestly say that those are my girls for life. We have all been through some shit, good times and some bad. Lots of bad (and if you haven’t read
Thugs and the Women Who Love Them,
do so and you’ll find out just how bad.) Anyway, I love these chicks.
Kyra is my cousin. Her mom and my mom are sisters. That ho was strung out on heroin, overdosed, the whole nine yards. You talkin’ about a survivor. Her face should be by that word in the dictionary. She is still going to school to become a psychologist. She is enrolled in a graduate program at UCLA. She married Marvin, her nigga from back in the day. He got her strung out, did an eight-year bid upstate, came back for her, and they’ve been thick as thieves ever since. What makes me the happiest is that other than weed they both have been drug-free and have been blessed with a beautiful daughter named Aisha. They left Jersey and moved to Cali.
Then there’s Jaz. That bitch is a whole mess. A fuckin’ genius! Too smart for her own damn good. Can be dumb as hell sometimes too. Like the time she had that NBA nigga, not in her crib but all up in Faheem’s spot. That bitch and the baller almost lost their lives. Come to think of it, that was also around the time when we found out she was working in a meth lab and had been doing so for almost a year. She was stackin’ mad dough but livin'
off Faheem’s. They got married and even though Jaz didn’t want any babies, Faheem wasn’t tryna hear that shit. They ended up with a spoiled little girl named Kaeerah. Jaz went to jail over that meth shit and was looking at football numbers. But Faheem, that nigga, did some grimey shit and the next thing you know she beat the case. He’s a real “G,” stuck by her through it all. Now she’s living in the ATL going to the Morehouse School of Medicine, which is the only part of the school that is coed. I hope she don’t get into no shit, ‘cause niggas are everywhere! Na mean!
Last but not least is my girl Tasha, the drama queen. She’s another one who has been drug through the fire. But just like gold, she came out shining. She went from hoeing at the age of nine or thirteen (you gotta read
Every Thug Needs a Lady
to get all of those juicy details) to selling dope, to her hooking up with one drug dealer only to be snatched up by that same drug dealer’s partna, Trae. That shit was crazy! She lost their first baby during some mad, mad drama that they was going through, but now she has twins and is pregnant with another one. She’s one of them hoes that if you look at her wrong she gets pregnant. Anyway I love her and if she hadn’t been snatched up by Trae I would never have met my Boo. That was weird the way that shit worked out. Trae and Kaylin are partners in crime. It’s like they are brothers from another mother or spiritual twins, some shit like that. However, he is so good to her and for her, she is always happy and has changed and matured so beautifully. I can only thank God for everything He has done for all of us. She and Trae are the only ones outta the crew who didn’t have a big wedding. They snuck off and got married in Jamaica or somewhere. They got money coming outta their asses and they too have moved to Cali. Tasha is a physical therapist and has her own rehab center. She gets to work on all of them big money-gettin’ ballplayers.
That’s right; there is nothing lazy about none of us. We may be hood, but we all know how to turn that shit on and off when needed. Now, that’s what’s up!
Now, me? My shit is so fucked up I don’t even want to talk about it. For example, like I said today is supposed to be the happiest day of my life, my wedding day. But somehow it turns into my wedding blues. I can’t even bring myself to talk
about it. So I’ll let Wahida fill y’all in. That chick is wicked with the pen. We love you, Wahida! I’m out.
