Authors: De'nesha Diamond
Gangsta Divas (25 page)
“Stop it. Stop.” He wrestled with my hands, but I was determined to prove to him that I could fuck him the way he liked.
“Please! Let me show you,” I begged and then eventually won the war. We fucked on the floor, on the desk, and even up against the wall. I was sure that I was back in good with him. But the next day he was back to acting like he didn't know me. Any time I tried to get at him at the shop, he had corner boys on the lookout to make sure I stayed away. Once or twice, I thought about following through on my threat and drop dime to Maybelline, but each time, I remembered Isaac's threat and believed that he was a man of his word so I stayed away.
That October, Mason Carver came into the world, kicking and screaming.
Isaac never even came to the hospital to see him.
39
Trigger
“W
e fucked up,” I tell the girls during our private party at my crib. “We should have never made that hit at Da Club. I liked Bishop. That short time we were together was fun.Why couldn't he just sit still and let us take the money? Now we got to worry about the wrath of his sister. I won't be surprised if she pulls a one-eighty and focuses her army on us. We were good as long as GD were getting the brunt of their attacksâbut killing the bitch's brother?” I shake my head and lean over the glass table to inhale a line of coke.The shit hits my brain like a locomotive and leaves my mind blown.
e fucked up,” I tell the girls during our private party at my crib. “We should have never made that hit at Da Club. I liked Bishop. That short time we were together was fun.Why couldn't he just sit still and let us take the money? Now we got to worry about the wrath of his sister. I won't be surprised if she pulls a one-eighty and focuses her army on us. We were good as long as GD were getting the brunt of their attacksâbut killing the bitch's brother?” I shake my head and lean over the glass table to inhale a line of coke.The shit hits my brain like a locomotive and leaves my mind blown.
Behind me, Jaqorya and Sharcardi are already passed out.
“Goddamn, Trigger,” Shariffa complains. “Don't you start on me with that shit, too. Lynch is already riding my last nerve. We did what we had to do. Ain't nobody's fault that nigga Bishop got all swoll over a couple of Benjamins.That shit is on him. If he had checked his fuckin' ego, and not try to test bitches, his ass would still be sucking air right now.”
“Damn straight,” Brika cosigns before pushing me aside so that she can snort a line.
I hear what they're saying, but I can't help but feel that this is no ordinary fuckup. Not when it comes to dealing with Lucifer. Muthafuckas say that you will never see her ass coming.
Brika pulls her head up and wipes her nose. “If you ask me, if anybody fucked up, it was your ass,Trig.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you. You didn't have to break that slob off no pussy. That was why he was so hot. He didn't give a fuck about that chump change on the table. That nigga was wide open because he got played in front of his boys. Niggas don't like it when bitches pimp their asses. All you had to do was just tease his ass like we said. He would've been pissed but he would've kept the right side of his head.”
True.
“Whatever.”
“Whatever.”
Brika cocks her head. “You're just mad because your ass got sprung on that nigga.”
“And you're mad because I got your ass sprung.” I flash her my titties.
“Don't start nothing your ass can't finish,” Brika warns.
Shariffa reaches over and splashes Patrón into her glass and then downs the shit as if it was water.
“Bottom line: we've been poking a stick in the Vice Lords' eyes for a while now. If they come with it, then we'll come harder. Like I told Lynch, we can't win the war for the streets without fighting a battle. Think about how easy that shit was the other night. I'm telling you, without Fat Ace holding them niggas down, the sky is the muthafuckin' limit. The same goes for the Gangster Disciples. Python got everybody from the FBI to Homeland Security checking for his ass, so it don't matter whether he's dead or not, he can't run shit, his niggas McGriff and KyJuan are both six feet under and sucking on the devil's dick. Their whole shit is on life support. Now it's our time to be on.”
“I bet you're liking that shit.”
“Damn straight. Karma is a bitch. The Gangster Disciples can sit back and watch me ascend the throne with the Grape Street Crips.”
Brika laughs. “Girl, you're ambitious as hell.”
“But you're ridin' with me though, right?”
“All day, every dayâbut I don't think this shit is gonna stay easy.”
“Why you say?”
Brika hesitates.
Shariffa jumps on her. “Look, bitch. I'm too fuckin' drunk right now to try to read your mind.”
“All right. I didn't want to say nothing, but I thought I saw someone in Da Club the other night.”
“Who?”
“It was this raw dawg I met in Atlanta a ways back. A green-eyed gangsta that goes by the name of Diesel.”
The color drains from Shariffa's face. “Diesel?”
“What? Do you know him?” I ask.
“I don't know if we're talking about the same person, but Python has a cousin named Diesel in Atlanta.”
“Well, the nigga I'm talking about has the ATL on lock. No weight moves and no fuckin' bodies drop without his say-so.”
“Shit.” Shariffa looks sick.
“I take it we're talking about the same nigga then?”
Shariffa nods. “But what the fuck is
he
doing here?”
he
doing here?”
“Reinforcement,” I chime in. “Your ex ain't going down without a fight. If he got mean connects like this Diesel muthafucka, then you're gonna have to put your plans of a city takeover on pause.”
Our private party now feels like a wake. The idea that we have to deal with Lucifer
and
Diesel, I keep coming to the same conclusion. “We fucked up.”
and
Diesel, I keep coming to the same conclusion. “We fucked up.”
This time, Shariffa and Brika nod in agreement.
40
LeShelle
T
he honeymoon is over. Two days of being walled up in this tiny-ass house in Covington. We can't go anywhere. We can't do anything and I'm about to go out of my mind. Python spends most of his time either on the phone or having small meetings with newly promoted soldiers within the set. New connects, new gunrunners, and new money men drift in and out the house while I twiddle my damn thumbs. This is what it must've truly been like for Bonnie and Clyde on the run.
he honeymoon is over. Two days of being walled up in this tiny-ass house in Covington. We can't go anywhere. We can't do anything and I'm about to go out of my mind. Python spends most of his time either on the phone or having small meetings with newly promoted soldiers within the set. New connects, new gunrunners, and new money men drift in and out the house while I twiddle my damn thumbs. This is what it must've truly been like for Bonnie and Clyde on the run.
I miss Shotgun Row. I miss Momma Peaches and I even miss those damn snakes that slithered around the house. How much longer am I going to have to put up with this shit? I keep hitting Kookie on her cell, but she never picks up. I wonder if they're arranging Pit Bull's funeral.
After hours of watching morning talk shows and bad soap operas, I decide to take a long bubble bath. I go to the bag where Python had my things packed and start pulling out toiletries. But then I find a worn men's wallet. Curious, I flip it open and am startled to see a photo of Fat Ace.
What the hell?
Turning, I head to the living room where Python is still on the phone with God knows who. I clear my throat. When he looks up, I wave the wallet at him. “What's this?”
Turning, I head to the living room where Python is still on the phone with God knows who. I clear my throat. When he looks up, I wave the wallet at him. “What's this?”
To my surprise, the color drains from his face.
“Yo, man. Let me call you back.” He disconnects the phone, climbs to his feet, and comes and takes the wallet from my hand.
I stand there and wait for an explanation. After a few seconds, I prompt him. “Well?”
Python sucks in a deep breath. “There's, uh, something I haven't told you about the night of my accidents.”
The fact that he can't even look at me lets me know that I'm not going to like what he's about to say.
“Okaaaay.” I roll my hands along for him to speed up and spit it out.
“I know it's crazy, but . . . I believe that I may have found my long-lost brother.”
I flinch. That was not what I was expecting him to say. “Mason?”
Python nods.
“Where?”
He holds up the wallet. “Fat Ace.”
My ears can't be working. “What in the hell are you talking about?” I back away from Python and look at him like he sprouted a second head. “You're fucking serious.”
“Afraid so.”
I blink, waiting for him to say more, but he's looking at me about as hard as I'm looking at him. After a while, I figure it's best that I pick my mouth off the floor. “Okay. Let's slow this train down and you tell me where in the hell you got this crazy idea in your head.”
“All right. But maybe you should sit down.”
Irritated, I open my mouth to argue, but then think better of it. I'm not sure whether I can handle another bombshell. I plant my butt down in a nearby chair and this time listen to an unedited version of what happened the night the Vice Lords tried to run a murder train to Shotgun Row. As I listen I find myself wishing I'd been there in the heat of the battle.
My heart skips a few beats during the parts where the chase between him and Fat Ace extends down the wrong way on I-240, when he clipped an eighteen-wheeler and spun off the shoulder, and when Fat Ace and his demon bitch Lucifer flipped into the air.
“Then I dragged his body out that wreckage hoping that he was alive just so I could kill him.” Python holds up his hands, balls them into fists, and then just stares at them as if he was amazed at their large size.
“Python?”
He snaps out of his strange trance to look at me, but I'm not sure that he sees me. “The minute I saw Fat Ace was still breathing, I thought, âFinally, I have him.' I was going to put an end to all this clash of the street kings and all that rah-rah bullshit.”
I frown. “A lot of soldiers have laid down their lives for this âbullshit.' Bitches like me have risked everything to marry into the game.”
“Makes us all fools, doesn't it?”
Okay. He's scaring me. “What in the hell has gotten into you? You've lived this street life since your momma squeezed you out while tryna rob a check-cashing place over off Lamar. Now you're shitting on everybody? What the fuck is that about?”
“That's just it! I don't fuckin' know! This whole Mason shit has my mind blown. What was up is now down and down is up. I feel like I'm in a
Twilight Zone
or something.”
Twilight Zone
or something.”
“How did you leapfrog from beating Fat Ace's ass to concluding that he's your long-lost brother? I don't get it.”
“He has the birthmark.”
“The . . . what?” I shake my head, still tryna clear it. “A birthmark? What the fuck? I can toss a quarter out the window right now and I guarantee you that I'll hit
two
muthafuckas with a birthmark.” I laugh. “Damn, Python.You really had me scared there for a moment.” Relieved, I stand and wrap my arms around his neck. “That big gorilla was
not
your brother.”
two
muthafuckas with a birthmark.” I laugh. “Damn, Python.You really had me scared there for a moment.” Relieved, I stand and wrap my arms around his neck. “That big gorilla was
not
your brother.”
Python's expression remains hard as he shakes his head and unhooks my arms. “It's the
Carver
birthmark. A small horseshoe on the left side of his neck.”
Carver
birthmark. A small horseshoe on the left side of his neck.”
He twists his head so I get a better view of his own birthmark hidden in the six-pointed star tattoo. I've seen the birthmark before and even noted that Momma Peaches had the same one once. I remember noting that it was cute. I never thought it was hereditary.
“That doesn't prove anything,” I insist, stubbornly, but not as forceful as before.
“Every Carver in my family has oneâin the same place. What? You think it's just a coincidence?”
“They do happen from time to time.” I'm grasping for straws, but what else can I do?
“All right.” Python flips open the wallet. “Then how do you explain this?”
“What?”
“Read the name on the driver's license.”
“Pythonâ”
“Read it.”
“Fine.” I scan the name and have a chill race down my spine. “M-Mason Lewis.” I swallow. “There's got to be hundreds or thousands named Mason in the phone book.This . . . doesn't proveâ”
“Read the date of birth,” Python says, his voice softening.
I suck in a deep breath. “September 13, 1990.”
“My brother's birthday.”
The room explodes into silence while my knees threaten to drop me on my ass. “I need to sit down.”
“You have no idea what kind of hell I've been through these last few months. I've been tryna deal with this alone, I lost Momma Peaches, two sons . . . you.” His gaze locks on me. “I really thought that I was going to lose you.” He kneels between my legs. “You can't scare me like that again.”
I'm taken aback by Python's naked vulnerability. My heart expands in my throat. “IâI won't.”
A weak smile wobbles across Python's lips as he eases his muscled arms around my waist and buries his head in between my breasts.
Loving the warmth that's surrounding me, I pepper the top of his head with kisses. “I'm going to be with you always. I promise you.You're all I got. We're in this shit together.”
Python squeezes me tight as his words chase themselves inside my head. “Two sons?”
His arms tighten to the point I can barely slip air into my lungs.
“Christopher is back with his grandparents and Yo-Yoâ”
I shove him away from me. “Don't you dare mention that bitch's name to me.”
Python throws up his hands. “I know how you feel about Yo-Yo. Believe me that bitch don't mean shit to meânot like that. I just want my fuckin' seed, you feel me? She probably has given birth to him by nowâsomewhere.”
I look away guiltily.
“Look. I won't mention the bitch's name again. A'ight?” Python cocks his head and lowers his hands. “I just want my son.You feel me? I've had too many people taken away from me. Blood is blood.There's nothing in this world more important than family. Momma Peaches taught me that much.” He hangs his head. “I should've listened to her a lot more than I did.”
I feel my man's pain right now. He must be going through hell because I've never seen him torn up like this before. But at the same time, I'm grateful as fuck for this one silver lining in all of this.
Lemonhead is deadâand so is that bastard that she was carrying.
I wrap my arms around Python and pepper his head with kisses.
He's all mine now. No Officer Melanie Johnson or Lemonhead crowding my space.
Lemonhead is deadâand so is that bastard that she was carrying.
I wrap my arms around Python and pepper his head with kisses.
He's all mine now. No Officer Melanie Johnson or Lemonhead crowding my space.
As I sit next to Python, his words circle around in my head. “Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“You didn't include Mason in that list.”
“What?”
I pull his head back so that I can look him in the eye. “You said that you lost two sons, Momma Peaches, and me. You didn't say anything about losing your . . . brother.”
Python stares at me.
Dread skips up and down my spine. “You said that Fat Ace was alive when you pulled him out of the wreckage. He
was
dead when you left him?”
was
dead when you left him?”
Python doesn't answer.
I don't give up. “Fat Ace
is
deadâright?”
is
deadâright?”
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