Trife Life To Lavish (A King Production Presents...) (9 page)

"Damn Tierra, I can't believe you have to
move out your apartment and back into yo' mama's
crib. That's fucked up," Simone said, as she packed
up the last box.

"You can't believe it? I'm still shaking my head
over the bullshit. As broke as I am, I can't believe
I lasted up in here this long."

"So what you gon' do with all your furniture?"

"My moms ain't got no room for it, and I
can't even afford to put this shit in storage."

"Why don't you sell it?"

"`Cause I don't know who to sell it to, and
I don't have time to try and find a willing buyer. I
was supposed to been out of here two weeks ago,
but I kept praying that I would luck up on some
nigga to save the fuckin' day. As you can see, no
such luck, and now I'm hauling ass tryna break out
before I find my shit thrown out on the streets."

"Shit, I would love to have it."

"Are you tryna pay for it, or you asking me to
give it to you?"

"I mean, shit, you ain't doing nothin' else wit' it!
I mean, what. . .you gon' leave it here? You might as
well give it to me." Simone was practically salivating at
the idea of having the top-of-the-line Italian furniture
replace the hand-me-down furniture her grandma
gave her. If Tierra didn't give it to her voluntarily, she
was contemplating having her baby daddy rob the
joint after they left, but then it dawned on her that
when Tierra came over to visit, she would see all her
goods and know what was up.

"That ain't the point. This furniture cost a lot
of fuckin' money. If you want it, you need to cough
up some coins. If not, this shit can sit right here,"
Tierra snapped, rolling her eyes.

That's mhyyo' assgettingput the fuck out now... don't neva
)canna share shit... selfish ass! Simone thought to herself.
"How `bout I make payments?"

"What, you mean like layaway? This ain't Wal-Mart."

"Tierra, do you wanna make some money off
this shit or not?"

"Fine. How much can you give up now?"

"I can get my hands on about three."

"Three thousand?"

"Hell no!"

"Oh, `cause I was about to say! Shit, if you
can get a hold of that, then you can help me wit'
some of these bills so I can stay up in my crib."

"No, three hundred."

"Three hundred! You need to come wit' more
than that. This furniture cost thousands of dollars.
That nigga, Lucci laced my crib right before he got
locked up for that long ass bid." Tierra sat down
on her couch and sulked. "That was when shit was
sweet. If only I could rewind the time to back then."

"Well, you can't, so get over it. I might be able
to come up with five hundred, if Ant gives me two."

"Shit, well you need to forget it, `cause Ant
ain't coming up wit' nothing."

"When he see this furniture, yes the hell he will."

"After you give me the five, how often are you
going to make the payments, and for how much?"

"How much are you selling the shit to me for?"

"I can do thirty-five hundred."

"Girl, I'll be paying that shit off forever."

"Lucci paid over ten g's for it."

"And you paid nothing."

"Fine, I can do twenty-five."

"Make that an even two thousand, and I'll pay
you two hundred dollars every week until it's paid off."

"Fine, but I want my five-hundred before you
lift even a chair out this motherfucker." Tierra glanced
around her spacious one bedroom loft, still trying to
figure out how sugar went to shit overnight.

Nichelle sat in her English class, reminiscing
on how fucked up the last week had been between
her and Carmelo. Ever since the argument over
Tierra happened, he had been giving Nichelle the
silent treatment. Even when he would pick her
up from school, no more than a few words were
exchanged between them. The stress was taking
a toll on her, because not only was Carmelo her
man, but she considered him her best friend, right
next to Tierra.

Then there was Tierra. She was salty at her
too. It was as if Tierra blamed Nichelle for how
Carmelo went at her, even though Nichelle felt she
had put shit on the line for her friend. So the two
people she felt the closest to were both throwing
major shade her way, and Nichelle didn't know
what to do to make it right. On top of all that,
it was Nichelle's eighteenth birthday, and nobody seemed to remember or care.

"There's the bell. Class is now over. I'll see
you guys on Monday. Have a good weekend," Mr.
Chambers said, dismissing the students. "Nichelle,
I need to speak with you for a minute."

Nichelle sucked her teeth, not in the mood
for the drama. "Mr. Chambers, I know what you're
gonna say. The paper I turned in late was some
garbage, and I'm still gonna flunk your class." She
sighed, as she looked down at the floor.

"Yes, your paper was late-scrape thatmake that very late, but it was worth it."

"Excuse me?" Nichelle directed her eyes from
the floor to meet Mr. Chambers' face. She needed
to look directly in his eyes to make sure she heard
every word he spoke.

"Your paper was worth the wait. To say I was
moved by your story would be an understatement.
The complex emotions of the young female character
were incredibly profound. Nichelle, you're a very
talented writer, and with proper guidance, there is
no telling how far you can go."

"Oh, I see. I guess you're the one who is
going to give me the proper guidance. What, you
want some ass, is that it? I don't fuck for grades,
Mr. Chambers, so if that's what you're looking for,
you can go `head and flunk me now."

She didn't fully grasp what she had just
said to her teacher until she saw the horrendous expression on his face. But it was too late, she
couldn't take it back. The silence in the room was
eating Nichelle up. She didn't know if she should
say nothing more and make her exit, and right
when she decided that would be her best move,
Mr. Chambers finally spoke.

"Nichelle, you are a very attractive young
lady, but I would never jeopardize my career
as a teacher by trying to have an inappropriate
relationship with one of my students, or any student
for that matter. If I have ever done anything to give
you that impression, then I apologize. I genuinely
believe you have a gift for writing. It doesn't have
to be me, but hopefully you'll find someone to
help you hone your craft, so you can take that gift
wherever you want it to go in life."

"Are you trying to say you think I'm smart,
Mr. Chambers?"

"Yes, you are smart."

"Nobody has ever told me that before. I guess
it's easier for me to believe that you're like the
typical man, running around with sex on the brain,
than to think you see talent in me."

"Nichelle, talent is a gift that God gives to everyone.
It is what that individual does with his or her gift that
makes them stand out from everyone else. You can be
like so many other people and let your talent perish, or
you can be one of the chosen few who let it shine. It's
up to you. I've done my part."

"And what is that?"

"Recognizing your talent and sharing that gift
with you. You've been informed. If you decide to
take advantage of your talent, I'll be here whenever
you're ready."

"Thank you, but I better be going. My
boyfriend is waiting for me."

"I understand. Have a good weekend."

"You too."

"By the way... Happy Birthday."

Nichelle turned her head towards Mr. Chambers
and simply smiled before leaving his classroom.

With Carmelo still not saying more than a few words
to Nichelle the entire ride home, she replayed her
conversation with Mr. Chambers. For the first time
in so long, her self-esteem got a boost. And this
time it wasn't from some man making her feel cute
or sexy, it was because somebody saw something
that she never saw in herself-intelligence.

When Nichelle finally decided to write her
paper, she sat for hours, unable to put down
one word. It wasn't that her mind wasn't full of
thoughts; it was that she was afraid to free those
thoughts. But once she did, her words flowed and
filled the papers. It was easy for Nichelle to relate
to the young girl's emotions, because they were all
hers too. To have somebody else, like her teacher, acknowledge how deep those feelings went, made
the pain Nichelle struggled through to put them
into words worthwhile.

"I knew yo' ass would be back up in here sooner
or later. Hmph! You always complained this place wasn't
good enough for you, but here you are."

"Ma, I don't need to hear this from you right
now," Tierra gasped, as she placed some of her
boxes against the wall in the hallway and tossed
her bags into her old bedroom.

"Well, you gon' hear it. You and these fast
ass girls always trying to find the easy way out.
Messing around with these no good men who
pushing drugs, killing off our own race. . .for what?
So you can ride around in expensive cars that ain't
yours, and wear some overpriced clothes that ain't
even worth the fabric it was made from. You hardheaded women gotta learn the hard way."

"Can you save that preaching for somebody
that cares, `cause I don't."

"And that's why you back in this tiny ass
apartment with me now, because you don't care
about nobody but yourself."

"That's not true. I always tried to hit you
off and help you out when I used to have money rolling in, but you didn't want none of it. That wasn't
my fault."

"Why in the hell would I want some money
you earned from laying on your back? I didn't raise
you to be that way-greedy and materialistic. Even
with you getting evicted from your apartment, car
repossessed, not a dime to your name, you still
can't see that money made the easy way don't
never last."

"Trust me, wasn't nothing easy about how I got
that money. I earned every cent, having to deal with
the knuckleheads I came across. But yeah, right now
I'm going through a tough time, but trust me, I'll be
back on top of my game and out of your house."

Tierra's mother shook her head in disgust.
"Child, this trife life that you living will catch up
with you sooner or later. That I can guarantee you,"
she warned, pointing her finger at her daughter.

Tierra stared at her mother, undeterred by her
words. She knew the woman who raised her meant
well, but having money in her pocket meant more.

"Ma, I don't want to argue with you. I
appreciate you letting me stay here until I get back
on my feet. Can we please end it there? I have a lot
of unpacking to do."

"I'm done. If you need some help, let me
know. And Tierra..."

"Yes?" Tierra sighed, feeling like her mother
was about to go in for round 2.

"You're welcome to stay as long as you like.
It may not be some expensive loft, but it will always
be your home."

Tierra stood in the hallway holding her bag
as she watched her mother disappear into the
kitchen. She didn't know whether to be thankful
by her mother's words, or scream out that this isn't
the home or the life she envisioned for herself. And
she never understood why her mother settled for
this life either.

Growing up, Tierra always thought her mother
was the embodiment of beauty. She had inherited
her rich chocolate skin and the curves of a stallion.
Tierra remembered men constantly coming at her
mother hard, promising her everything, from fur
coats to diamond rings, but she turned her nose on
every last one of them. Her heart belonged to one
man, and always would until the day she died.

Tierra never forgot the knock at the door that
changed her life and that of her mothers' forever:

"Tierra, what dress do you think mommy
should wear tonight? This silver one or this red
one?" she asked, holding them both up for her
daughter to see.

"Ummm, I think you should wear the red
one. Daddy loves you in red."

"And how you know that?"