Life Without Hope (34 page)

nant! How old are you?” I asked, fuming mad. The girl cast a long

glance at me shuffling her feet. I had the feeling she was asked this

question one too many times. “Sixteen,” she mumbled, rolling her

eyes.

“
Dat girl gonna smoke if I give it to her or not,” Nina said. “I

smoked with my first two babies, and all of them came out all

right,” she continued.

I turned ready to smack the shit out of Nina. She held a pipe

in her hand, a rock balanced on top of it. From the look in Black

Pearl’s eyes, she wanted to hit that pipe awfully bad. For the first

time in my life I was overcome with guilt. This little girl with

Hope’s eyes caused the incantation of the words to flow all over

again

, you’ll end up dead or in prison

. This shit was strange. One

thing was for sure, this girl was somebody’s child, somebody’s

daughter, sister and now was about to be somebody’s mama. Shit!

This was not supposed to be part of the game. Someone was vio-

lating the r ules.

“
Girl, where in the fuck you live at?” I asked her.

Nina cut in, “She lives wit me sometimes, now leave that gurl

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alone.” I continued to stare her down, like waiting for an answer.

Finally she looked up at me and blinked her eyes the way a child

does when they are being chastised.

“
Where your mama at … your family … somebody?” My

emotions consumed me. I found a part of myself that I, along with

millions of hustlers, find it difficult to identify with–the plight of

Black life and just how destructive we are in selling poison to our

people. Her bottom lip began to tremble as her delicate starry eyes

began to brim with tears. Her features Nubian, like an African

Princess, she possessed the kind of beauty that should be captured

and placed on a poster for the world to see the destruction of

Black humanity. How the ghetto chews up and spits out children

like recycled waste.

Someone else was at the door, a body with no face. I was in a

fog. My emotions were on my sleeve. A voice asked, “Lemme get

six for fifty.” Just as I reached in my pocket and passed him the last

of the dope, a police car cruised by. Too close for comfort. I need-

ed to get out of there. I tried my best not to look at the little girl,

but I couldn’t help it. Her ebony cheeks were streaked with tears

as she cried silently. She watched me as if I were the one responsi-

ble for her tears. To the strongest of men, to watch a child cry,

especially a pregnant child is truly tormenting.

Keep the babies and

the fuckin children out the game!

I thought.

I heard a noise as I was about to leave. I turned around to see

Nina Brown on the floor on all fours, searching … searching for

an invisible rock. The dope was starting to play tricks with her

mind.

As I checked to see if the coast was clear to make my exit. I

tried to shake the scene from my mind, but it was too strong, the

voice in my ears was too much. The girl was now holding her

stomach bent over crying. From the look on her face I did not

know if she was in pain or what. My insides were killing me! I

decided right then and there, there was no way in hell I was going

to leave this child in this crackhouse. Gangsters have hearts, too. I

reached out taking hold of her little hand and together we walked

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out the door.

A cool morning breeze welcomed my damp skin as we walked

out of the house. It felt like I had been in a cave all night. It was

the start of a beautiful morning. In the blue sky the sun strobe the

clouds in search of its place in the heavens, while below in hell, I

was trying to make reason for what I was doing with a pregnant

child.

Once we were safely in the car, I watched her as she struggled

with the seat belt. “Oh, you’ll wear a seat belt but you won’t stop

smoking to save your baby’s life,” I said indignantly. She gave me

a look that pleaded with me not to go there. It worked. I swal-

lowed the dry lump in my throat. I realized that I was powerless

by her stare. I couldn’t help thinking how much she looked like

Hope. I had to turn my head.

After I drove a few blocks, I heard my voice ask ever so gently,

“
Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?

“
Yes … I’m hungry,” she answered in a bare whisper. I

watched as she rubbed her stomach. I imagined the life of the

child in it.

“
Where do you want to eat at?”

She shrugged her shoulders as if to say, I don’t know. We rode

in silence. Up ahead I saw a Shoney’s Restaurant.

“
What ‘bout dat there?” I asked, pointing. She nodded her

head yes. I thought I detected a sparkle in her brown eyes.

This was my first lesson in taking a pregnant Black woman to

an all you can eat buffet. The sister could throw down! She ate

everything in that restaurant, twice. Cheese eggs, strawberry waf-

fles, bacon, toast–they definitely lost money that day. As I sat there

watching her eat, it made me feel good, and the whole time she

carried herself like a young lady, polite and well mannered.

After ward she belched and we both laughed.

I drove to a Dollar General Store and gave her a hundred dol-

lars. We went inside and she bought panties and bras as well as

scented soaps and deodorants. For the first time she looked up at

me and smiled, it was the smile of gratitude, something that

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comes from a woman’s heart that melts a man’s soul leaving him

powerless. Black Pearl’s biggest strength–a child’s smile that

seemed to radiate in infusions of love–would, from that day for-

ward, be my weakness.

*****

When we pulled into the hotel parking lot, I already knew

what was on her mind. It was placed there by all the men that vio-

lated the sanctity of her chastity. Men that were sent into her bed-

room in the wee hours of the night. Men that stole her virginity

robbing her of a woman’s greatest virtue. These men had been sent

in payment for a debt in drugs owed by her mother.

“
Dig Shouty, you can stay wit a nigga as long as you like, but

you got to keep it real, promise me you’ll stay off that shit. And

once you have the baby you’ll get back in school and tr y to do

something constructive with your life.” Black Pearl nodded her

head. She was not much for words.

“
I’ma be aiight. I only star ted smokin’ when one of my moth-

er’s boyfriends raped me and forced me to get high with him,”

Black Pearl said confidently as she innocently curled her finger

around a lock of hair. “I tried a few times, back there with Nina,

I just wanted to fit in, needed a place to chill for the night.”

“
What’s your real name?” I asked.

“
Annie Bell,” she replied.

Annie Bell

, I thought. She’s a country girl in this redneck-ass

town.

“
I want you to meet my girlfriend.”

Black Pearl jerked her neck like she had been hit with a stun

gun. “Girrrrrl friend!” she screeched like one of Grandma’s old 45

records.

*****

Black Pearl and I entered the room, shopping bags in tow. The

soft murmur of feminine voices filled the room, and suddenly

stopped, replaced with the evil glares you give a peasant or some

unwanted person. To my surprise, Trina, Tomica and Evette were

in the room. The air was tainted with the sweet redolence of per-

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fumes and Juicy Fruit gum. Shoes and wine cooler bottles clut-

tered the floor.

“
I see you finally met the ‘if it ain’t nailed down they can steal

it crew’,” I said, sarcastically talking to Trina. Evette was sitting on

the floor between her lover’s legs, getting her hair braided. For

some reason, Tomica had this satisfied smirk on her face.

“
L, why you give me that girl’s bracelet?” Trina asked, getting

out of bed. She was talking about the bracelet from the heist that

I had to knock the cop over the head for. I gave it to her before I

left yesterday in front of Tomica to piss her off. From the looks of

things my little ploy backfired. Trina got out of bed wearing my

T-shirt. I could still see the sleep in her eyes, or perhaps it was a

hangover. I noticed the bracelet on Tomica’s wrist. She shots me a

knowing glance, like she just scored points for the shit she had

started with the bracelet.

“
And where is my damn money at?” Tomica questioned, rais-

ing her voice for the sake of an audience. Those Brooklyn bitches.

Tomica was talking about the money that I took from Evette to

rent the place for Blazack and the crew. If I didn’t know any bet-

ter I would have thought they conspired against me in my

absence.

“
Don’t get used to wearing that bracelet,” I said to Tomica,

hoping something slick would come out of her mouth. Trina

hopped her ass out of bed, pink panties cutting in that ass. I saw

Tomica’s greedy eyes watching as she walked up to me and rolled

her eyes at Black Pearl, with all the makings of a cat fight.

“
L, I need to speak with you in private,” Trina said with her

jaws clinched together like her teeth were super glued. On her left

cheek, I could see a small scar from where I slapped her in the

parking lot. Before I could answer, she pulled my arm and led me

into the bathroom.

“
What the fuck you doin’ bringin’ that young-ass girl here?”

Before I could open my mouth to answer Trina made a face and

continued. “In case you haven’t noticed she’s pregnant.” In the

small bathroom, her voice carried like we were in an underground

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tunnel. Trina was standing close, real close. She was my boo, but

that morning breath smelled like pig feet. I took a step back, crin-

kled my nose.

“
Listen, the girl doesn’t have a place to stay, she’s 16 years old.

What was I s’ppose to do?”

“
You was s’ppose to bring yo ass home last night! That’s what

you was s’ppose to do.” Trina sassed, shaking her neck one way,

her hip another, with her hand on it, lips pouting, nostrils flaring.

“
Instead, you come in here with this pregnant heffa smelling

like …” Trina was lost for words. She pulled at my shirt, using two

fingers like I might be contaminated, she sniffed.

“…
Smelling like you’ve been up all night smoking crack,” she

finally said, her voice laced with the heavy accent of broken

English. A curly lock of unruly hair fell over her forehead. I could

see the outline of large nipples waving at me every time she

moved. She was not wearing a bra. Something about her began to