Damaged (22 page)

“I’m on my way to the house and I got all of your money, plus some,” I said quickly. “I had to do a special for one of my
regulars.”

Nut grunted in the phone. “Bitch, you just love testing me, don’t you?!”

“Nut, I’m sorry. Please, don’t be pissed at me, baby,” I said before I felt Joe grabbing the phone.

“Dude, stop yelling at her! She said she’s going to give you your money. Chill the fuck out!” he yelled before closing the
phone.

I was so stunned that I looked at Joe as if he had lost his mind. I stayed quiet the rest of the way home, even when Joe stopped
to get gas and he asked me if I wanted anything from inside the store. I kept my mouth shut when he stopped at his bank to
take out two thousand dollars in cash. Nut ain’t even call me back for the rest of the ride, surprising the hell out of me.
He was gonna kill me when I got home. If it wasn’t for Shakira and Trina Boo, and even Peaches and her unborn baby, I probably
wouldn’t have ever come back.

AND IF YOU THINK ABOUT TURNING BACK/

I GOT THE SHOTGUN ON YA BACK.

—ERYKAH BADU, “SOLDIER”/HARRIET TUBMAN

JANUARY 2006

H
e kept calling the new Spanish chick he brought on the strip with us Almond Joy, cuz he thought it pissed us off, but we ain’t
care. She wanted to just go by Candy, but hell, as long as the bitch pulled her weight I ain’t give a damn what she was called.
Her dumb ass got Nut’s butterfly tattoo on her titty
and
on her back. The bitch had even moved in with Nut. The only person who cared Joy had jumped the line was Marcha, cuz me,
Shakira, and Trina Boo wasn’t even thinking about replacing Peaches in the first place. While Marcha on the other hand was
so used to living by herself across town, she thought she was next in line to be Nut’s bottom bitch, if the chance came up.
And we could tell she wasn’t feeling living on the first floor in our “little dirty-ass” apartment building anyway.

The only time we got to hang around Joy was at Sunday meetings, and when Nut called hisself “treating us.” He took us to two
shopping trips up to the outlets in Philly and Jersey and he gave us a thousand dollars for each of us to spend. I don’t know
what came over him cuz he never did that when Peaches was there. The whole time Joy clung on to Nut like he was her purse
or something.

He even took us to Kobe’s a couple days before New Year’s Eve for some Japanese food. We all sat around the U-shaped table
as the funny chef chopped, diced, and flipped raw food in the air before he cooked it. I was amazed. The chef made a tiny
volcano out of chopped stacked onion rings, vegetable oil, and some soy sauce. When he lit it on fire, I knew I wasn’t the
only person amazed, cuz the
oohs
and
ahhs
came out. The chef even cracked jokes with us, too. But he ain’t have a clue that when he teased Nut, by calling him “a pimp
with all the beautiful ladies,” that he was really telling the truth.

But Joy wasn’t even that cute, that’s the thing that got me. I mean, of course she had her own curly honey blond hair down
her back, and an okay body, but her face looked like she had been hit in it one too many times. She tried to be nice, but
her face just reminded me that Peaches was missing. Even though I knew my girl was trying to do better with her life, I missed
the hell out of her.

M
e and Joy was walking fast down Fourteenth Street, trying to keep warm and to get one of those niggas to take us to a hotel
instead of a quickie in their cars. It was so cold white smoke came out of our mouth when we talked. I kept drinking small
bottles of Grey Goose, since it made me feel hot after I drank them.

Joy was telling me about her last pimp, who she said treated her like shit, and nothing like Nut (I had to roll my eyes at
that), when this car full of drunk and high white guys stopped in a black Benz truck. One of them shouted, “We got five thousand
dollars to let us fuck all night long! Five for both of you!”

Joy started smiling and looking at me to see what was up. But I rolled my eyes. “No, thank you.”

“Mami, why not? I need the money bad,” she whined. “Let’s do it!”

“Hey, you with the red coat!” one of the guys yelled.

I looked at him and smirked.

“I love brownies. Let me see your ass!” he shouted.

I rolled my eyes and turned around to walk the other direction.

“
Qué,
Mami?” Joy said,
click-clacking
behind me. “Let’s go. It’ll be okay.”

“Bitch, are you crazy? That’s way too many dudes. Who knows what the fuck they’ll do to us. Ain’t no muscle gonna be there
for us, either. Nah,” I said, shaking my head.

“Mami, pero necesito realmente el dinero!”
Like I really knew what the fuck she said.

“Come on, girls! The party’s in here,” one of the guys yelled.

“Ay, Papi,” she purred and then looked at me like her coochie was itching and only that money they was offering could scratch
it.

“That shit is way too dangerous. I’m not cool with it, and you should stop acting so damn pressed, Joy.”

She sucked her teeth and started walking over to the truck. A couple seconds later, she turned around and said, “All right
Mami. Tell Nut I’ll see him in the morning.” She giggled and jumped in the truck.

I shook my head and walked down the street. Dumb bitch. That must be why her face look like that. Shakira was smoking a cigarette
when I reached her. “It’s cold as shit out here,” I groaned, rubbing my palms together.

“Aw shit, don’t come over here with that,” she said, puffing. “Where your girl go?”

I smirked and reached for her cigarette, then took a puff. “That bitch just as crazy as her boyfriend.”

“Oh, shit! Jump Out!” Shakira yelled as she popped up, grabbing my arm and dragging me down the street. We ran inside the
hotel and headed straight to the stairwell before the cops had even seen us. We stayed there for a while cuz Nut told us they
had blocked the street off. He told us to go ahead and take some of the money to rent a room, but since we ain’t have a reservation
they wouldn’t let us get one. Some rule they had, but I knew it was cuz we looked like prostitutes. We was stuck. Shakira
tried to pick up one of the men at the hotel bar, but since the Feds was right out front, everybody was acting like they was
above us tonight.

“What the fuck?” I asked, standing in the lobby.

“They kill me with that Jump Out shit,” Shakira said, rolling her eyes. “Always trying to round
us
up, like them dudes buying the pussy ain’t breaking laws, too!”

We needed to figure something out, cuz I was still underage and I wasn’t going back in the system.
Fuck that
. And then I recognized the fat bellboy. I gave him head before, but he was trying to act like he ain’t know me.

“Where’s the back door?” I whispered as soon as I got up on him.

He tried to ignore me, and then I said, “Freebie next time.”

I could tell he was trying not to react, but it was too late. A smile spread across his fat face, and then he told me how
to get to the back exit. Me and Shakira hurried up before the front desk clerk decided she needed to get heroic and report
us to the cops.

We made it out okay and headed straight home. Nut was there when we got there, doing a head count. He was pissed when he found
out Trina Boo, Marcha, and Joy was nowhere to be found. I ain’t tell him I knew Joy was with tricks, cuz it wasn’t my place.
Plus all I kept thinking was at least they wasn’t minors and wouldn’t get shipped back to foster care like me and Shakira
would’ve.

The next morning when we still ain’t hear nothing from Trina Boo and Marcha, Nut called up to the station and found out that’s
where they was. I was hoping that at least they was with tricks last night, too.

When Nut came back from bailing Marcha and Trina Boo out, he was livid cuz Joy wasn’t there. Now I was stuck between another
rock and a hard place, cuz if I told what I knew, then he was gonna be mad at me for not stopping the dumb bitch. If I ain’t
tell, he was still gonna be mad.

“The last time I saw her, she was getting in a black Benz truck just before Jump Out raided.” I decided to tell him, so he
wouldn’t be mad I ain’t say nothing when he found out later.

“You sure?” he asked, walking around Marcha’s apartment. “I’ve been calling her all night.”

I knew better than to say more than that. I knew Nut, and he was bound to blame me for her stupidness, since Joy was new.

“Why you ain’t say that shit last night?!” he snapped.

“Cuz I ain’t know if that meant anything then,” I said, rolling my eyes. How was I supposed to know that she wasn’t gonna
show up for morning roll call?

“Stupid bitch,” he said as he kept walking around the room.

Was he talking about me or Joy? Shit, at this point, as long as he spelled it right, I was fine with being called a bitch.
I was a smart one, unlike Joy. I crossed my arms over my chest.

Hours passed by and still no word from Joy. Nut was growing restless. He had come to each of our apartments to hang out while
he waited for her. Marcha called herself cooking for him, and I could smell her fried chicken upstairs. She could’ve offered
us some.
Bitch. Still trying to take Peaches’ spot.
Later, him and Shakira smoked J’s. The strong herb smoke slipped underneath my door across the hall, clouding my head and
making me sleepy. When he came to me, I rubbed knots out of his back again.

“Do you hate your life?” he asked me while I was on top of him.

“Why you ask me that?” I asked, shocked.

“I just wonder sometimes.”

“Do you hate yours?”

“Sometimes,” he said.

I was surprised he admitted that. “Why?”

He sighed and said, “I like it, more than I hate it.”

I wanted to hear him say more than that, but he wouldn’t. I kept rubbing my fingers across his back.

“You never answered me,” he said, turning his head the other direction.

“I don’t know if
hate
is the right word, cuz there’s things I like about it, too.”

Nut rolled over and stared me in my eyes. “Do you hate me?”

I blinked a few times. He caught me off guard. But then I started thinking about it and I had to shake my head no, cuz I ain’t
hate him. “You not making me stay, like most pimps do.”

“So why you here?”

I thought for a long moment, knowing I had to choose my words right. And then it came to me. “I need you, remember?”

He smiled and then lifted me up off of him. “Good answer.”

I thought he was gonna try to fuck, but he ain’t do it. He put his shirt back on and went downstairs to see Trina Boo. It
was the strangest conversation we had ever had.

A few days later, a Channel 4 Newsflash scrolled across the screen about a senator’s son being found dead in Rock Creek Park
with three other boys and an unidentified female in a torched car. When they showed the mangled, burned-up Benz truck I wondered
if the woman was Joy since we still hadn’t heard from her. The reporter said the car had flipped over a couple times before
bursting into flames. She pointed out how twisty the roads was and how dark it gets at night, that a lot of people use the
roads in the twelve-mile park that cut through the city to Maryland and to Virginia. But if it was the same truck that stopped
that night on Fourteenth Street, I bet the car accident had something to do more with the drugs and alcohol, cuz it was written
all over their faces that night.

I had a hard time sleeping after I saw that on TV. The only person I told what I thought had happened to Joy was Shakira.
She let me sleep in her bed until the nightmares stopped and I felt better.

Nut found out a couple days later when Joy’s mother came by looking for money from him to help bury her daughter. I couldn’t
tell if he was sad when he found out or not. He just stopped talking about her. None of us talked about her again. It was
almost like she never even existed.

APRIL 2006

I
n April, the Tradewinds was so jam-packed I couldn’t even stop niggas from squeezing my butt when I tried to go to the bathroom.
It was pointless. Marcha said she had cramps, so she stayed home. Shakira and Trina Boo kept dragging me all around the club.
As much as I loved Go Go music, I never really liked going to Go Go clubs. Outside events, yeah, maybe, since hearing it live
was tight, but it was always so goddamn crowded, hot, and sweaty inside the clubs. Plus bitches was always trying to fight
over some ignorant shit and niggas always started shooting for even stupider shit. That’s why security was all over the club
and the reason they wasn’t even letting us bring lipstick, eyeliner, or mascara inside. Stupid. Like I’m really gonna try
and stab a bitch in her eye with some lipstick.

Big G was shouting out different hoods—CRT, Lincoln Park, KDY, LDP, Simple City, Choppa City, Third World, 640, Trinidad,
Sursum Cordas, and 21st, which was near where we lived, so we threw our hoods up. Two fingers on one hand and one finger on
the other as we rocked to the beat. Big G even called out Trina Boo and KiKi’s names over the mic. I’m not gonna front, I
was jive jealous, but I tried not to show it. The crowd was getting hyped, rocking to the congos and Back’s version of John
Legend’s “I Can Change.”

Jayson and his friends met us up there, but we was on opposite sides of the club. He and I had talked about a lot over the
past few months. Mrs. Brinkley moved down to South Carolina to live with her sister. Jamal was in Dover working as an accountant,
and Ja’qui was in Phoenix playing arena football for a team called the Arizona Rattlers. Jayson was an assistant manager at
BCBG in Georgetown, talking about come in and get the hookup whenever I wanted. No doubt. We was still cool, but we never
really had the same relationship we had back in the day.

Me, Shakira, and Trina Boo was getting twisted off of all the shots of Patrón that different niggas kept buying us. Some dude
with dreads asked me if we could dance, and I nodded. He led me to the overcrowded dance floor, where everybody was lined
up trying to see the band better, their arms extended in the air, flashing their hoods, beating their feet. Some dudes was
busy grinding on apple bottoms, rocking to the bass drum, rollatons, cow bell, and Sauce on the congas, until sweat ran down
their faces, making the hot room funkier.