Authors: K'wan
Still Hood (8 page)
Ronny could feel the blood leaking from the back of his head onto his sweatshirt. “A'ight, man, just chill,” he said, while removing his chain and watch.
“You too, ya ugly muthafucka.” Spooky pointed the gun at Blick.
“A'ight fam, you got this one.” Piece by piece, Blick removed his jewelry. Though he was complying with the robbers he was also storing
their faces into his memory bank. There was no way in the hell that he was gonna get robbed in his own hood and not strike back.
their faces into his memory bank. There was no way in the hell that he was gonna get robbed in his own hood and not strike back.
“What's in the pouch?” Shannon asked Blick, but still had his gun trained on Ronny, who was unscrewing his diamond earrings.
“Nothing, man, a few bags of smoke and my ID,” Blick lied.
“Set it out,” Shannon demanded. Blick just glared at him. “Boy, you ain't heard what I said?”
Blick cursed himself. If he let them take the pouch they'd be shot on the re-up. “Man, I can't let you take this.”
“What?” Shannon pointed the shotgun at him. “Yoâ” Shannon's words were cut off by a thunderous sound. Blick's thigh exploded, spraying Shannon and Ronny with blood. Spooky stood over both the men, holding a smoking gun.
“Nigga, this shit is nonnegotiable!” Spooky barked. He reached down and ripped the pouch from Blick's waist. After a quick glace inside, a broad smile spread across his lips. “Looks like we came up on some real ballers.”
“Nigga, you shot me!” Blick shouted, as if Spooky didn't know what he had done.
“You'll live. Be glad I ain't split ya fucking cabbage.” Spooky reached down and ripped the diamond earring from Blick's left ear, bloodying him further. “Good looking out, fellas,” Spooky said, before jogging from the projects with Shannon on his heels, laughing hysterically.
“THAT WAS SOME REAL CHICKEN-HEAD SHIT YOU
pulled last night,” Sugar said to Roxy, licking the edge of the blunt to seal it.
pulled last night,” Sugar said to Roxy, licking the edge of the blunt to seal it.
“That ho shouldn't have bucked. I can't believe that bitch was acting all crazy over a fucking T-shirt.”
Sugar just looked at her. “Roxy, I ain't even about to go there with you on that one. You just make sure you hold your composure at the video shoot.”
“Please, you acting like I don't know how to carry myself. I'm a fucking lady!” Roxy said, crossing her legs in a masculine way. “Damn, that reminds me. I gotta call Charlie and see if he got some of that piff.” Roxy reached over and took the white cordless phone of its base.
“Roxy, what the fuck are you doing?” Sugar looked over at her.
“Sugar, I ain't gonna be on that long.”
“I don't give a damn about how long you gonna be on, you know that's the Bat Phone. Convict calls only, ho!” Sugar had an extra phone line installed in her house just to receive calls from the various cats she dealt with that were locked up.
As ghetto as it sounded, there was a method to her madness. Sugar went above and beyond for her boos behind the
wall. Everything from sending food packages to the occasional visit, she was on it. She reasoned that when her flavor of the month was back on the streets he'd remember his rider chick that went so hard for him, gladly reopening the money line. Sugar's mind was always on her chips.
wall. Everything from sending food packages to the occasional visit, she was on it. She reasoned that when her flavor of the month was back on the streets he'd remember his rider chick that went so hard for him, gladly reopening the money line. Sugar's mind was always on her chips.
“You is so fucking ghetto,” Roxy said, getting up to get the other cordless.
“You don't like it, burn ya daytime minutes,” Sugar shot back.
“You got a prepaid, too!”
“So what? Mine got a chirp,” Sugar joked, and went back to lighting the blunt. “Yo, what's up with you and homey from last nightâthe cat with the suit?”
“Girl.” Roxy flopped on the couch next to Sugar. “I did some research, and that boy is caked up. They call him Black Ice. He's supposed to be some kind of pimp or something.”
Sugar gave her a suspicious look. “I know you ain't thinking about selling ya ass for that nigga?”
“Hell no, the only person I sell my ass for is me!” Roxy declared. “But I wouldn't mind seeing how deep his pockets go.”
“You better be careful, Roxy. I know this chick that used to fuck wit one of them ol pretty niggaz. The last time I seen her she was washed up and strung out,” Sugar said seriously.
“I got this, mama.”
Roxy dialed a number. She spoke briefly to someone on the line, then hung up. “Ain't this about a bitch?”
“What's good?”
“I just spoke to Charlie, and his ass is uptown at the video shoot,” Roxy told her.
Sugar took deep pulls of the blunt and said, “If the mountain can't come to Mohammad, please believe she can come to it. Did you bring ya fit?”
“You know that.”
“Then let's get dressed and do what we do.”
“TOOK Y'ALL LONG ENOUGH.” SHARON
greeted Dena and Mo as they got off the train on 125th and St. Nicholas. She had traded in her tennis skirt for a pair of skin-tight, faded jeans that were slashed just below the ass cheeks. Her fire-engine-red boots set off her red motorcycle jacket, making her look like one of Satan's angels. All the body stuffed into the fit, coupled with her flawless makeup, made Sharon look way older than she actually was.
greeted Dena and Mo as they got off the train on 125th and St. Nicholas. She had traded in her tennis skirt for a pair of skin-tight, faded jeans that were slashed just below the ass cheeks. Her fire-engine-red boots set off her red motorcycle jacket, making her look like one of Satan's angels. All the body stuffed into the fit, coupled with her flawless makeup, made Sharon look way older than she actually was.
“You're lucky we came, that hot-ass train almost finished my weave,” Monique touched her hair. She was dressed in a tight-fitting black denim suit with leather lace-up sandals, balanced on three-inch heels.
Ignoring Mo's comment, Sharon turned her attention to Dena. “I see you, Big Time!” She smiled at her friend. “You on your real grown and sexy shit, huh?”
Dena just smiled. The faint brown highlights in her hair shone slightly under the fading sunlight as she brushed a strand of it away from her face. She was decked out in a pair of charcoal gray knickers and a black wool top that showed a little breast but kept it tasteful. A gold X.O. choker accented her slender neck, giving her a model's appeal. To cap off the fit, Dena had donned a pair of ankle boots with a heart-shaped buckle on the side. The heel was a little higher than Mo's, but Dena had the good sense to get taps placed on them for easier strutting.
“So, where we headed?” Mo asked, checking her makeup in her compact.
“Just a few blocks over in St. Nick projects, but I thought we'd make a quick pit stop.” She held up a Dutch Master.
“You ain't even gotta ask twice,” Mo readily said.
“What about the video?” Dena asked.
“D, they gonna be out there for hours. Where we're going to smoke at is a block over from the shoot,” Sharon said.
“High-ass bitches.” Dena walked in front of them like she knew where she was going.
“You better not let Lazy see you on Two-Fifth in that outfit, he might snatch ya ass up,” Mo called after her.
“That nigga can clown if he want to, you know how we do it in the Stuy.” Dena gave Mo a high five. “I ain't fucking wit son like that, never will you stand Dena mutha fuckin Jones up and think you ain't gotta pay the costs. I know I'm a bad bitch,” Dena patted her chest for emphasis. “If Lazy can't see that, then that's on him.”
“Spoken like a true G!” Sharon chimed in.
“I know that's right,” Mo said, eyeing a group of young men that were passing them. The young men overlooked Mo and gawked at Dena and Sharon; but they paid them no mind.
“Knowing Lazy, I wouldn't be surprised to see him up here. You know he fuck wit Don B and them,” Sharon added.
“Lazy is free to be wherever he wants, but he wasn't where he was supposed to be, so the rest of that shit is irrelevant,” Dena said in a matter-of-fact tone. The conversation was left at that.
LAZY STEPPED OUT OF HIS
building and gave his body a good stretch. He had been sleeping like a baby until his cell phone had woken him. His man Chiba had been pressing him about coming to the video shoot all week, but because he had plans with Dena he told him no. Seeing how Dena was looping his calls and he didn't feel like being around Michelle again so soon, he was free for the evening. It was time to hit the streets.
building and gave his body a good stretch. He had been sleeping like a baby until his cell phone had woken him. His man Chiba had been pressing him about coming to the video shoot all week, but because he had plans with Dena he told him no. Seeing how Dena was looping his calls and he didn't feel like being around Michelle again so soon, he was free for the evening. It was time to hit the streets.
Chiba was sitting in front of Lazy's building behind the wheel of a silver Dodge Magnum, twisting a blunt. He was a slim Puerto Rican cat with cornrows that snaked down his back. A red headband bearing the Big Dawg log was slung half-cocked around his head. Most people didn't know it, but Chiba was his government name. His parents were notorious pot dealers who came up in the era of good weed and better highs.
“Sonny Chiba,” Lazy gave him dap as he slid into the passenger seat.
Chiba passed Lazy the blunt and pulled the car into the street. “Lazy-Laze, what's popping, my nigga? You ready to hit the block?”
“Don't I look ready?” Lazy motioned towards his crisp jeans and black Averix. “Son, its gonna be a lotta pussy out there.”
“And who gets more pussy than us?” Chiba grinned.
“Not a muthafuckin soul!” Lazy responded. It was sort of like their pretty boy credo.
“Yo, how'd you manage to shake Dena?” Chiba asked.
“Dawg, I fucked around and got caught up with Michelle and ended up losing track of time. Dena ain't even taking my calls,” Lazy said sadly.
Chiba shook his head. “Dawg, you be playing ya self pulling them kinda moves. What do we always say?” Before Lazy got a chance to answer, Chiba continued. “The wife comes first. Man, a side bitch can always be put on the back burner, but we gotta make time for the wife.”
“Nigga, I know the rulesâshit, I helped invent them. Son, I was so stuck off that piff that I ain't know what time it was.”
“More like stuck off Michelle. You showing all the signs, kid.”
Lazy arched his brow. “Signs of what?”
“Signs that that old bitch got you open, son,” Chiba said, without taking his eyes of the road.
“Chiba, you don't know what the fuck you talking about. I'm handling business,” Lazy said defensively.
This time Chiba did look at Lazy. “Lazy, you've been my ace since junior high school, so you know I'm gonna always keep it funky wit you, right?”
“I wouldn't have it any other way.”
“A'ight, so let me ask you a question: How you handling business when you spending more time wit ya jump-offs than wit ya wife?”
“Chiba, we run wit the same circle of bitches!” Lazy reasoned.
“But I ain't got no girl, yo. I can run up in every bitch from one end of Twelfth Street to the other, and ain't nobody got room to check me. You, on the other hand, got a main chick that you claiming.”
“So what you telling me, to square up and stop fucking around on Dena?”
“Nah, I ain't said all that. You a grown-ass man, so whatever you do is on you. I'm just telling you to make ya next move ya best move and peep the writing on the wall.”
“And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Lazy asked.
Chiba looked at him for a minute. He knew Lazy was a sensitive cat, but he was his dawg and therefore he could speak his mind. “Check it: Why you think Michelle go out of her way to please you and put up with the bullshit?”
“Cause I got the best cock game in Harlem,” Lazy boasted.
“Fool, that title still belongs to me; but that's a different story. My dude, Michelle is a seasoned old bird with a plan within a plan. All she wanna do is trick ya stupid ass into getting her pregnant and trying to have you playing house, but you so blinded by the pussy and ya ego that you don't see it that way.”
“Dawg, I'm on my job.”
“Lazy, if you was on ya job then Dena wouldn't be looping ya calls,” Chiba said, busting a left on 116th and Lenox. “Homey, you know I'm M.O.B. all day, everyday; but you got a good chick in Dena. All I'm telling you is not to fuck that up. Do ya dirt, but do it with some tact.”
Lazy didn't respond to this, he just reclined back in the seat and kept puffing the blunt. Chiba and Lazy were only a year apart, but the boy was wise beyond his years. Lazy wanted to dispute his logic, but right was right. His shenanigans in the streets were seriously cutting into his time with Dena and he was glad his man had checked him on it, like a true friend. Michelle had some good pussy, but Dena was his heart. Until someone had pointed it out to him, he hadn't even realized he was neglecting her. It was a problem he made a mental note to rectifyâas soon as she decided to pick up the damn phone.
“So what's up, you gonna sit there stressing over Dena all day, or shake out like we do?” Chiba asked, running through a street light just as it turned red.
Lazy gave him a solemn look. “I'm gonna get things right with my shorty ⦠right after I see what's popping with these hos at the video shoot!” He bust out laughing.
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