Keeping Secrets (3 page)

“Man, nigga, maybe if you stop fucking all them crackheads, you won't have to be down at the free clinic every other month,” Lucky said to his boy, Major Pain.

“Nigga, fuck you,” Major Pain replied. “It ain't even like that. I ain't having no symptoms or nothing like that. It's just that my shit ain't felt right since I fucked this one broad a couple weeks ago. I just want to make sure I'm good. I don't want no syphilis or some shit like that lingering in my dick. You know that shit can make you go blind if you let it go untreated.”

“If you ain't went blind from all that jacking off you do to all them pornos, then you ain't never going blind.” Lucky began to laugh harder.

“You real funny,” Major Pain said as they walked up the steps leading to the clinic's door. “You got mad jokes.”

“I'd rather have jokes than crabs,” Lucky said, taking one last shot at his partner.

The two friends laughed, always going tit for tat at one another. Lucky and Major Pain had met through the city's top and most ruthless drug dealer named Turf. Before Lucky had ever even met Major Pain, his reputation had preceded him, known for his wild, violent, “I don't give a fuck about nobody and nothing” attitude. But he was paid, taking out niggas left and right for the sake of Team Turf. Lucky had just started putting in work for Turf at the time, but knew if he handled his business, he, too, could develop the same attitude as Major Pain, leading to him being just as paid as him as well.

With getting paid as his ultimate goal, it was easy for Lucky to take on that same type of “I don't give a fuck” mentality as well. That attitude led to him killing Ivy, the girlfriend of his best friend at the time, Quick. Lucky claimed it was an accident, but because of the “get money” and “money over bitches” attitude, he never knew if Quick ever truly believed him. And he never would know because Quick and the new girl he got with, Tiffany, would end up dead, gunned down by the police. That shitty-ass cop, Detective Davis, wouldn't rest until he saw the squad dead or in jail. Lucky had been just that: lucky not to have fallen victim to any of Davis's efforts.

Lucky and Major Pain would now have something else in common, seeing that Major Pain had lost his best friend, Wolf, in a shootout. The two last soldiers standing would become partners in crime, literally.

“So why all the chicks I get down with gotta be crackheads ?” Major Pain shot back. “I mean, your mama don't look like a crackhead to me.” He held his stomach with laughter.

“Nigga, fuck you,” Lucky said seriously as he opened the door to the clinic. Mama jokes always brought the back-and-forth banter to a halt for some reason.

The two walked inside. “Yo, man, I'ma sit my black ass right out here in the lobby,” Lucky said.

“Just come on back here with me.” Major Pain nodded toward the next set of doors that led to the sign-in desk. “You know I'ma be waiting forever. You might as well come back and kick it with me.”

“And look like I'm yo' bitch or something? Mu'fucka, you better play with your iPhone . . . or your dick for that matter. I'll be right here waiting after you get your penicillin shot.” Lucky laughed, flopping down in a chair.

“Fuck you,” were Major Pain's parting words as he headed back to sign in with the receptionist.

Lucky picked up a pamphlet and began to read about birth control, which had a message that abstinence was the best form of birth control. “Yeah, and that shit is the best way to get blue balls, too,” Lucky said to himself, throwing the pamphlet back down on the table. He heard a chime letting him know he'd just gotten a text. He pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket, read it, and began texting back.

“Damn, he fine as hell,” Lucky heard a female voice say. He was the only one in the lobby, so he knew the person must have been referring to him. He was finishing up a text though and wanted to get it sent without error, so he didn't bother looking up.

“Yeah, girl, but are you forgetting where you at?” another female voice said lowly.

“True. He got a dirty dick.”

Both girls burst out laughing and that's when Lucky looked up to see them heading toward the exit door. They'd obviously just come from the registration/treatment area and were now leaving.

“You in the same place I am,” Lucky finally spoke. “Does that mean you got a dirty pussy?”

Both girls looked at Lucky then burst out laughing, continuing to make their way outside.

Ordinarily Lucky might have been pissed off enough to call the girls all kinds of bitches and hoes. But not this time. There was something about the way one of the girls looked at him that let him know she was far from a bitch or a ho. Her soft brown eyes delivered a sense of innocence and purity. Her soft-looking lips polished with pink lip gloss looked as if they spoke of nothing but sweet dreams. Lucky had to admit that she was the first girl to ever render him speechless.

By the time Lucky awoke from the hypnotic state her eyes had seemed to put him in, both girls were out the door. The playa in Lucky told him to let them go, but his curiosity was piqued. He had to know what he might be missing.

“Yo, ladies, hold up,” Lucky said after jumping up out of his seat in the lobby and catching up with the girls outside.

“Girl, just keep walking,” he could hear one of them say under her breath to the other. “Remember: dirty dick.”

“Uh, just in case you didn't know, I can hear y'all talking about me back here,” Lucky spoke up, as he stayed on the girls' heels.

The girls looked at each other, giggled, but kept walking.

“Yo', y'all gon' stop, slow down, or something?” Lucky asked. “A nigga trying to holler at ya.”

One girl stopped in her tracks, spun around, and put her hand on her hip. “Dude, you were in the clinic. Like you said back there, we were in the clinic too. For all we know, everybody's shit is burning up in this bitch. Why you bothering us?”

“'Cause your girl was looking kind of sexy back there,” Lucky said, referring to the one who had stopped but had not turned around. She was the one he'd locked eyes with back inside the clinic lobby.

“That's exactly why your ass is up in the clinic now; talkin' 'bout some sexy.” The girl looked Lucky up and down. “You fine and all, but ain't no dick worthy of dying over. Bring her your paper that reads you negative, and then y'all can talk. Other than that, have a blessed muthafuckin' day.” And on that note, the girl spun back around, linked her arm through her friend's, and trotted off again.

Lucky just stood there feeling a certain kind of way: lightweight offended, but intrigued at the same time. He had ninety-nine problems but a bitch had never been one. Broads came and went. But what was it about this particular one? Was it because she wasn't like all the other broads who would drop to their knees and suck his dick in the middle of the street just because he was ballin'?

Most chicks in the streets knew who Lucky was. They knew the whole deal about him working for Turf at one point, then getting put on by Sosa, who was Turf's enemy. Both Sosa and Turf eventually got cuffed and Turf got sent off to prison for damn near the rest of his life. Sosa had to lay low so that he wouldn't endure the same fate as Turf, so he turned over the keys and throne to Lucky. A whole lot went down with the death of Quick, who had taken over Turf's throne and eventually merged with Lucky. At the end of the day, it was now Lucky and Major Pain who were running shit. Women knew that and were always trying to jump on their dicks. But Lucky could tell from just looking in this chick's eyes that she was of an entirely different caliber from those other females. She wasn't like all the other women he'd encountered. She looked like that kind of chick who would have a nigga wanna do the right thing . . . make a baller want to put away his ball and be up under her ass all the time. So as bad as Lucky wanted to step to her, he knew she was exactly the kind of girl a guy like him was better off leaving alone.

“I ain't 'bout to trip over no bitch and be chasing bitches down and shit,” Lucky told himself as he watched the mysterious girl and her friend walk away. They looked over their shoulder at him every now and then and giggled.

As the distance grew between them, Lucky still couldn't help contemplating whether to go and try to get her number. He had a couple options. He could either go back inside the clinic, wait for Major Pain, and end up meeting some hood rat who would give him a real reason to have his ass up in the clinic. He could go back inside the clinic and have visions of that chick in his mind, fucking with his attention span and day-to-day activities. Or he could just go see what was up with her and be done with it.

Figuring it was gon' be what it was gon' be, Lucky headed in the direction of the girls. Once he saw them clear the corner and they were no longer in sight, he started a light jog until he was only a few feet behind them. He watched as they approached the bus stop and sat down on the bench.

“I never pegged you as the type who would be riding the bus,” Lucky said to the girl who had caught his eye. “You look all sweet and spoiled; like a daddy's girl or something.” Lucky chuckled. “I'm surprised your daddy ain't got you riding around here in a hot ride he got you for your sweet sixteen, graduation, or something.”

“Dude really?” the more talkative girl said to Lucky. “We black and we live in the hood. What's the odds of either one of us having a daddy?”

“Look, does your girl talk or do you just like to talk? Because you're the only voice I keep hearing, yet it's not the voice I'm trying to hear. No offense.”

“Well, damn, Dirty Dick. I guess you told me,” she said, bobbing her head.

“And my name is not Dirty Dick. It's Lucky. And for your information, I'm not at the clinic for myself. I'm there with a friend.”

“Yeah, tell us anything.” She rolled her eyes.

Finally, her friend spoke. “He was sitting in the lobby, Shawn.”

The two girls looked at each other. Their expressions gave off a look that perhaps they believed Lucky was telling the truth.

“Lucky, huh.” The girl he'd been chasing after spoke again. “I'm Secret, Secret Miller.” She extended her hand.

She was like a princess. Lucky didn't know whether to shake her hand, kiss her hand, or ask for it in marriage. “Pleased to meet you, Secret.” He opted to shake her hand. He didn't want to look corny as hell with his other options. He then looked at her friend. “And I know you ain't a secret. You talk too damn much.” Before anybody could get an attitude, Lucky started laughing while extending his hand to the girl. “Naw, you know I'm just kidding . . . Shawn?” At least Lucky thought that's what Secret had just called her.

“My friends call me Shawn.” She held out her hand and shook Lucky's. “So you can call me by my name, Shawndiece.”

“Oh, okay. So it's like that, Shawndiece?” Lucky exaggerated her name.

“Yep, that is until I figure out if you really are lucky, or just bad news like most of the cats around here. Niggas don't seem to want to do nothing with they life but ball or get bitches. Well, I ain't having that for my girl Secret.”

Her words shook Lucky for a minute, as Shawndiece had basically just described Lucky to a tee.

“You'll have to excuse her,” Secret jumped in, cutting Shawndiece off. “My girl here is kind of like Bambi from
Basketball Wives LA
. She looks out for her friends for real-for real.”

Lucky nodded. “I can respect that. Everybody needs a friend like that.”

“Word,” Shawndiece agreed.

“So, Lucky, what is it that we can do for you?” Secret asked. “I mean, you did just follow us a half a mile. You must want something.”

Lucky was in a trance as Secret inflicted that look in her eyes upon him.

“Earth to Mr. Lucky.” Shawndiece was snapping her fingers in front of Lucky's face.

“Oh, my bad. I just wanted to holler at you,” he said to Secret. “Tell you how beautiful you are . . .” He paused for a moment, searching for his next words. Had it been any other broad Lucky would have straight-out said, “I wanna fuck wit' you.” But he didn't need to be reminded that this wasn't any other girl. “And I just wanted to know if I could maybe get your number and call you sometime.”

Secret looked over at Shawndiece as if she was seeking the answer from her. Her eyes were pleading, “Girl, what should I do?”

Shawndiece poked out her lips, folded her arms, and rolled her eyes as she turned away from the couple to look and see if the bus was coming. This was the first time she decided to preserve her voice.

“Well, I uh . . .” Secret stammered.

Not about to be shot down and made a fool of, Lucky went into his pockets and pulled out a receipt he had. “Tell you what; I'm going to give you my number. Do you have a pen?”

Secret began to dig in her purse for a pen, all the while still shooting Shawndiece, who was still ignoring her, a questioning look. Once she finally came across one, she handed it to Lucky.

Lucky wrote down his cell number on the back of the receipt. He then handed both the receipt and pen to Secret. “If you want to, call me sometime. If not, just save the number and remember me as the one who got away, because if I don't hear from you, that's exactly who I'm going to remember you as.” On that note Lucky walked away, hoping that for once his name actually meant something and that Secret would call.

“Really, Secret,” Shawndiece scolded her friend as they sat at the bus stop. “Did you really just take some dude's number who you just met up in the free clinic?” Shawndiece burst out laughing. “Now that takes the cake!” Tears formed in her eyes she was laughing so hard. “I know some chicks be trippin' off the fact that they don't want to meet their soul mate up in no club, but the free clinic, Secret?”

Secret chuckled somewhat. “Now it ain't that funny, Shawndiece.” She rolled her eyes.

“Girl, I don't know what you are talking about, but that shit is hilarious to me. I mean, just imagine that you do decide to call Mr. Lucky, the two of you kick it, fall madly in love with each other, get married, and have babies, and y'all's babies have babies. What you gon' tell your grandkids when they grow up and say, ‘Nana, how did you and Paw Paw meet?'” Shawndiece stood up, then bent over, pointing her finger while she spoke. “Now listen here, babies,” she said, disguising her voice to sound like that of an elderly woman. “Back when I was coming up there was this place called the free clinic. It was where all the fellas with dirty dicks hung out.”

Secret laughed and play slapped her best friend on the arm to make her stop.

Shawndiece laughed and sat down, coming out of her grandma character. “You know that ain't gonna make no damn sense. But we won't have to worry about that because I know you ain't even gon' think of calling ol' boy.”

Secret ignored Shawdiece's comment while she leaned out to see if the bus was coming.

“Right, Secret?” Shawndiece pressed.

Secret thought about it for a second and then shrugged.

“Girl, please tell me that you are not even thinking about calling that dude.” She allowed her eyeballs to roll all over Secret before saying, “Especially not with the predicament that you're in.”

Secret wrapped her arms around herself and turned away.

“Look, Secret, I'm not trying to be funny or throw a dig at you, but, girlfriend, you have too much you need to be taking care of with yourself than to be worrying about some thug.”

“Why does he have to be a thug?” Secret smiled shyly.

“I don't know; because the streets made him that way probably.”

“You know what I meant.” Secret rolled her eyes. “How do you know he's a thug? He seemed like a pretty nice guy. I mean a thug would have been calling us all kinds of B-words and whores if we'd ignored him like we did Lucky.”

Shawndiece just sat there and stared at Secret for a moment as if she was trying to figure something out. “Even though you and I are like oil and water, I can see why God mixed us together. You need me in your life for real.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you book smart and all, but that's where it stops. The fact that you are giving that dude the benefit of the doubt, even though he had t-h-u-g stamped on his forehead, shows me that you are just as naïve as everyone says you are, which is probably how ol' dude got you out of your panties in the first place; hence us having to be up at the damn clinic in the second place.” Shawndiece was getting a little serious and perturbed at her friend at the same time. “You ain't 'bout that life, Secret. You can't roll with no street cat like that. You ain't built that way. It would be foreign to you. Girl, you don't even speak the language. Hell, you barely can hang with my ghetto ass.”

Friends since the summer Secret and her mother moved into the neighborhood eight years ago, Shawndiece has always been there for Secret. She's always had her back and kept it one hun'id with her.

“I can tell right now you are gonna need me to show you the ropes around here,” Shawndiece had said to Secret all those years ago after knowing her for only ten minutes. She'd been walking by Secret's apartment building on the way over to one of her school friend's house. When Secret greeted her with this happy-go-lucky smile and wave, she knew off the bat Secret didn't fit in.

At the time, Secret wasn't quite sure what being a nigga meant, nor did she care to be one, but what she did want to be was Shawdiece's friend. She liked the foulmouthed girl. Secret had never met anyone like her and found her intriguing. And over time she'd find her to be a good friend who always had her back and would tell her like it is; even though Secret didn't always like what Shawndiece was telling her. Like right now as they sat at the bus stop.

“Just because every other word that comes out of my mouth isn't slang, a curse word, or the N-word, just because I'd rather meet my future husband at a bus stop instead of a club, just because I don't go out with dudes trying to get a tennis bracelet or seven hundred dollar weave doesn't mean I don't know how to handle myself.”

Patting her weave while her tennis bracelet gleamed in the sun, Shawndiece said, “So what you trying to say? You trying to lightweight talk about me?”

“I'm just saying,” Secret said.

“And you can say it again for all I care. My feelings ain't hurt. It is what it is with you; you know that,” Shawndiece said. “Hell yeah, if these muthafuckas wanna shimmer me up, fuck it, I let 'em. They get the pussy, I get the presents. A fair exchange ain't robbery. That doesn't make me a ho. That makes me smart,” she reasoned. “These bitches out here giving it up for free, now those the hoes. They spread 'em wide and all they get is a trip to the free clinic. Fuck that shit!”

Secret cast her eyes downward. Shawndiece noticed the somber look on her friend's face.

“Oh shit,” Shawndiece said softly, closing her eyes in regret. She took a deep breath, exhaled, then opened her eyes. “My bad, Secret. That really wasn't supposed to be a shot at you. When I'm trying to hurt you, you know it. My truths do hurt you sometimes and I get that. I do it on purpose because you're the one who used to tell me all the time that the truth will set you free.” Shawndiece took her hand and flicked Secret's slicked-back ponytail. “I just want you to be free.” Shawdiece's voice almost cracked before she pulled it together. “Hell, one of us gotta get free. Me, I'm a hood rat and I know it. Ratchet and ghetto as fuck!” Shawndiece laughed. Secret didn't.

“No, you're not,” Secret said sternly. She went and grabbed Shawndiece by the hands. “I will not allow you to claim that for yourself. You are a bright, beautiful, strong, independent woman. You are a survivor. Shawn, you are my strength,” Secret said, looking into her friend's eyes with true sincerity. “Everything you are standing here putting down about yourself is everything I love about you. I love you, girl.” Secret released her hands then pointed to Shawdiece's chest. “I love you just how you are. And that's a good thing. So I don't ever want to hear you putting yourself down like that again. Do you hear me?”

All Shawndiece could do was nod. She was both shocked and moved at the moment. She was shocked that Secret called herself getting with her, as she'd always remained soft-spoken. She was moved because no one had ever told her all those positive things about herself.

“Forget that nod. I want to hear you say it. Say, ‘I am beautiful and strong.'”

Shawndiece hesitated, but then obliged. “I am beautiful and strong.”

“And don't you ever let anybody tell you any different or don't you dare think different yourself.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Shawndiece said. “Now go on somewhere before you make me cry. And you know I don't cry.” Shawndiece looked over Secret's shoulder. “Good; the bus is coming. Now we can stop this hood episode of
Iyanla: Fix My Life
.”

Both girls laughed as they retrieved their bus passes. Shawndiece was the first one to step on the bus when it came to a stop in front of them. But before she got all the way up the set of four steep steps she turned around to Secret and said, “You still betta not call that nigga,” then proceeded to get on the bus.