Still Hood (12 page)

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Authors: K'wan

BOOK: Still Hood
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THE SUN WAS SLOWLY MAKING ITS DESCENT INTO
the western horizon, but there was still enough natural light that you could appreciate the beauty of the day it had been. The heat was still a very relevant issue, but it didn't really bother Billy or Reese, who sat under the cool air conditioning of One Fish Two Fish.
“Damn, you act like you got a grudge against that.” Reese nodded toward the snow crab leg that Billy was tearing into.
“I might as well have. For all the money they charge for these, they could at least cook them in beer. Ain't nothing like some beer and crushed red pepper to make ya crabs pop correctly,” Billy said, dipping a piece of crabmeat into her melted butter.
“Told you we should've just hit the fish market and did it ourselves.”
“Nah, cause then we'd have to clean all this shit up,” Billy joked, motioning towards the pieces of shell scattered on the tablecloth. “But I don't mind, cause we don't get to hang much anymore.”
“That's my fault, Billy, but you know I be crazy busy with Alex,” Reese said.
“Reese, you ain't never gotta apologize to anybody for doing what you gotta do for yours. You know I love you either way, ma. We can't club forever.”
“That's what I be trying to tell my little fast-ass sister. On the real, that girl is headed for trouble.”
“Sharon's probably just feeling herself,” Billy tried to reason.
“Billy, that little bitch is doing more than feeling herself. My mother thinks she's going through a stage, but I know different. The streets talk.”
“I know she ain't on it like that?”
“Shit, why she ain't? Billy, I done heard some shit about that little freaky bitch in the streets that made me wanna go home and kill her. Of course she denies it all with the crying and extra shit to fool my moms, but I can see by the way she moves that Sharon ain't thinking like a little girl. We were that age once, remember?”
“Ain't no comparison, cause when you, Yoshi, and Rhonda was out here fucking like rabbits, I kept my pussy tight,” Billy teased her. “Yo, I remember when Rhonda had Trev and Mongo up in her crib drinking and smoking together and shit, like they weren't both fucking her. Man, that girl was always dancing on the razor's edge.”
“Yeah.” Reese gave a halfhearted laugh. “Rhonda's ass was a trip.”
“She was a pain in the ass sometimes, but I can't front like I don't miss my bitch. Not a day goes by when I don't think of her,” Billy said.
Reese was silent for a minute, using her straw to stir the melting ice in her Sprite. When she looked up from the glass there was a very serious look in her eyes. “Billy, do you ever think about how life is gonna play out for you?”
“I mean, I
guess;
but I'm not sure I see what you're getting at?” Billy admitted.
“Life. How we live. Jesus, Billy, Rhonda had her bullshit about her, but she didn't deserve to go out the way she did. Is death and hardship the only thing this life has to offer us?”
Billy put her crab leg down to give Reese her undivided attention. “Reese, I agree with you about Rhonda not having to go out like that, but
that
end isn't for all of us. Rhonda played a dangerous game and
it caught up with her. It came with the lifestyle. Reese, we already got two strikes against us because we're black and we're female, but I believe that life is really what you make it. Being born in the ghetto doesn't mean we have to stay there, ma. We can sit on our asses and apply our petty hustles to get by, or we can choose to take control of our own destinies.”
Reese chuckled softly. “Billy, you always make things sound simple.”
Billy shrugged. “Sometimes you gotta look at it in black-and-white for it to make sense. Long story short, you got a baby girl now, so it ain't about you no more. Alex is gonna need you on the way up; you just gotta make it your business to show her a better way than you were taught.”
“That goes without saying. My baby girl is all I got,” Reese said.
“And ya girls,” Billy corrected her.
“True,” Reese nodded. “It's just us against the world, fuck a nigga,” she said scornfully. “I do what I gotta do for my daughter, but this load gets heavy sometime. You've got Marcus, so there's someone to help you shoulder it.”
“Yeah, Marcus is a comfort, but I don't make myself dependent on him. I let him know from the gate that I
can
and
will
do for myself, and that's why he has to respect me. Reese.” Billy placed her hand over Reese's. “Let me break something down to you, ma. Having a man in your life to help raise a baby is a blessing, true, but hardly a necessity in this day and age. You can be a mother and a father to your child and still give her all the love and affection she needs. Reese, I know you're down on yourself sometimes for the circumstances surrounding Alexis, but you gotta get over it. Stressing over some nigga that don't wanna be bothered ain't gonna do shit in helping you raise your daughter.”
“I know, Billy. It just hurts sometimes, not having anyone to turn to,” Reese said, barely above a whisper.
“Reese, for as long as my asshole points to the ground, you've got someone to turn to,” Billy said. They both tried to remain serious, but couldn't help but laugh. “Now, I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a drink.”
“YES, LORD, PUSSY AS FAR
as the eye can see. What a beautiful sight!” Cooter said, ogling the scantily clad young ladies on the set.
“Just the way I like it,” Stacks agreed. “One thing I gotta give y'all credit for is these fine-ass hos out here in Harlem, D.”
“Come on, son, you know we only deal in quality,” Don B said to Stacks, while listening to the caller on the other end of his cell phone.
Yoshi passed them, with three young girls on her heels. She waved hello to the group, but didn't bother to stop.
“Now, that's one lil bitch that I can't wait to bust out!” Stacks said, following her with his eyes.
“Yeah, Yoshi is a bad bitch, but her man is a beast. I ain't ready to go to the guns over no pussy,” True said.
“Who, Jah? Man, that lil nigga can't possibly know what to do with all that,” Cooter said.
“I used to think the same thing, but they've been rocking hard body since last summer, so he must be doing something right,” Don B said.
“Man, that love shit don't mean nothing where Stacks Green is involved,” Stacks said, speaking of himself in third person. “You throw enough bread at any bitch and she'll get down.”
“Nah, not Yoshi. Shorty used to be on it, but since that shit that popped off she's been on some new shit—real square-like,” True told him.
“Once a ho … ,” Stacks began.
“Always a ho!” Cooter finished, giving his man dap.
“But yo, who them little bitches she got wit her?” Soda asked.
“One of them is a lil chicken-head bitch from round the way, but the other two I don't know,” True said.
“Man, I wouldn't mind getting a taste of shorty in the gray shorts,” Stacks said, enjoying the last glimpses of Dena's ass before she disappeared into the trailer with Yoshi.
“Who knows what's gonna go down before the day is over,” Don B mused.
“Yo, Don!” a voice called from somewhere in the crowd. Don B swept his sunglass-covered eyes through the sea of faces and spotted Lazy and Chiba behind the security barricade.
“Yo, let my lil mans and them through!” Don B called over to security.
The beefy S.O.D. cop who was working the video shoot hesitated at first because he didn't know Don B, but if he was with the star then he must've had some sort of pull. Using a beefy arm to hold the crowd back, he allowed True and Chiba to pass the barricade.
“Punk-ass rent-a-cop,” Lazy mumbled, stepping around the cop. “What it is, big homey?” He dapped Don B.
“Chilling, young'n. I see you over there making a pain in the ass out ya self,” Don B joked.
“Man, fuck them pigs. They acting like a nigga was lying about being with Big Dawg. I thought I was gonna have to fuck son up.”
“Chill, Laz, you know I can't have my star point guard out here getting into dumb shit; we got soldiers for that.”
“So this is ya point guard?” Cooter gave Lazy a comical look.
“Starting point guard,” Lazy corrected him.
“Yeah, this young Lazy,” Don B introduced him. Stacks gave Lazy a pound, but Cooter just stared at him while Soda nodded. “My man is one of the hottest young boys to come out of Harlem. Ain't nobody fucking wit him.”
“We'll see, come game day,” Cooter said.
“Yo, what took you niggaz so long to get here?” True asked.
“This nigga was arguing with his broad,” Chiba volunteered.
“Fuck you, Chiba!” Lazy spat. “You know I'm too cold to be out here arguing with a bitch. I was trying to straighten out a lil situation, that's all it was.”
“Whatever, nigga. Dena looked like she was ready to black on ya ass when she saw you with Becky.”
“See, that's why I ain't got no girl. A nigga out here getting too much money and love to be tied down with a broad nagging him and shit,” Don B said. “I keep telling you, Laz, you gonna chase this paper or you gonna chase these bitches, you can't do both.”
“Speaking of bitches, you see them fine mutha fuckas over there?” Cooter nodded behind Don B. The men turned around and saw three beauties coming their way, with a rail-thin man bringing up the rear.
“Ice Man!” Don B shouted affectionately.
“Don of all Harlem, how you be, my nigga?” Black Ice flashed his diamond smile. “You remember Wendy and Lisa—but the caramel filling is Cinnamon.”
“So very sweet.” Stacks eyeballed the ladies.
“I'm sorry, player, I didn't get your name,” Black Ice addressed Stacks.
“Stacks Green, baby, cause that's all I do.”
“A man after my own heart,” Ice grinned. “Black Ice, homey; but if you spending for my goods, you can just call me Ice.”
“Stacks, this is the cat I was telling you about,” Don B reminded him.
“Yeah, the man with all the pretty ladies,” Stacks said.
“The one and only,” Ice tipped his white, fitted Yankee cap. “So, I hear that next to Big Dawg, the Green team is the next big thing?”
“We the only big thing, partner,” Cooter said.
“Sho ya right,” Ice said, looking at him like you would a butler who spoke out of turn.
“Stacks, we're ready for you,” Judy said, walking up.
“A'ight, time to show these New Yorkers what stunting is all about.” Stacks popped his collar and followed Judy to the set.
“I DON'T BELIEVE YOUR LIL ASS,” YOSHI SAID TO
Sharon, while fixing Dena's hair.
“Yoshi, that white bitch was trying to stunt on me, so I had to pull her coat,” Sharon reasoned.
“First of all, watch ya mouth, second of all, you don't come to my job clowning and dropping my name. You could've got me fired with that shit!”
“I'm sorry, Yoshi. Me and my girls just wanted to get up in here,” Sharon hit her with the puppy-dog eyes.
Yoshi wanted to be upset, but she couldn't. Sharon and her crew reminded her a lot of what she and her girls were like back in the day. “Sharon, you need your ass kicked, and you can bet your last dollar that I'm telling Reese.”
“Like she cares.” Sharon folded her arms. “She's more concerned with finding a daddy for Alex than with what I'm doing.”
Yoshi stopped doing Dena's hair and turned an angry gaze to Sharon. “Let me tell you something, for as long as your little ass is black I better not ever hear you say some off-the-wall shit like that about your sister or your niece. Reese has been through a lot, and instead of you acting like a damn brat you need to try and have some understanding.
A lesser bitch would've folded under the pressure, but your sister stepped to the plate and is taking care of business. Now, I don't care what y'all are arguing about this time, but what I do care is that y'all are sisters, and you better damn well remember it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Yoshi,” Sharon said with her eyes cast to the ground. Of all Reese's friends, she had the most love and respect for Yoshi. She loved her because Yoshi was down-to-earth and easy to talk to, but she respected Yoshi because of what she had been through. Sharon knew that Yoshi had been through something that would've put most bitches on suicide watch, but Yoshi still managed to walk with her head high. She was a rider to the heart.
“Lets go, Yoshi!” one of the PAs called, knocking on the camper door.
“I'm coming, damn it!” Yoshi yelled, causing Dena to flinch. “Sorry, Dena, these muthafuckas be on my damn nerves.” Yoshi shifted Dena's hair again, but still wasn't able to get the effect she was looking for. “Damn, this hair. If I had more time I could really hook you up, girl.”
“Its cool, I think you did a good job,” Dena said, admiring the slight curl Yoshi had applied to her hair.
“Nah, Yoshibelle don't do good; it's gotta be fire or nothing .” Yoshi turned Dena's head from left to right trying to see what else she could do to spruce it up. She hated working under the gun, but the fact that Dena was a naturally pretty girl helped a great deal. She was still young, so she wasn't as stacked as some of the other girls, but she definitely had it going on. The camera would mostly be focused on her face, so it was important that everything was tight, but Dena's hair was killing her. She was sure that if she'd had ample time to get it together, Dena could be a killer. Sadly, time was a luxury they didn't have. Always good at improvising, Yoshi came up with something.
“Sharon, I need you to go tell Judy that we'll be ready in two seconds,” Yoshi told her.
“Who's Judy? And why
I
gotta go tell her?”
“Judy is the white girl with the red hair and you have to go
because I told you to, unless you think you're grown enough to whip my ass now.”
“Nah, I ain't messing with you, cuzo,” Sharon laughed.
“That's what I thought. Now go give Judy the message. Mo,” she turned to the big girl who had been sitting quietly at a vanity table, “hand me that hat over there so I can get our girl right.”
ALL DAY LONG THE PROJECTS
had been buzzing with activity, but now it was strangely still. It was as if the noise had been sucked away and tucked in a box somewhere. A slow mist, totally out of place in the concrete jungle, rolled in and covered everything for up to a foot off the ground. Even the birds seemed still for a time, but the silence was abruptly ended when the heavy bass thudded through the mounted speaker towers.
The opening lines for Stacks's single, “Die for My Chain,” tugged at the first cords of everyone's adrenaline. The beat was reminiscent of something Death Row would've put out in the nineties, but with a Crunk feel to it. Some hailed it as one of the hardest beats in the last ten years. Let Stacks tell it, Soda produced the track; but there were a few people who would've argued that. One story was that an up-and-coming producer named Cords had created it and struck a bargain to sell the beat for twenty thousand, but before the money changed hands Cords was found shot to death in his mother's car. No one ever proved Stacks's involvement, but the theory hung in the air.
A sour apple green Cadillac sedan DeVille lurched from the mist into the view of the camera. Stacks Green's massive frame sat perched atop the back seat of the car, with his Texas piece looking like the Bat Signal under the artificial lights. In a slow country drawl he began his verse, speeding up and becoming clearer as the beat changed. Young Soda was slouched in the seat beside him with a blunt dangling from his mouth. Much like True, the camera seemed to love him. Cooter sat in the passenger seat, bobbing to the beat with a scowl on his face.
Dena sat behind the wheel of the hog, looking almost ten years older than she actually was. Yoshi had done an immaculate job,
applying just enough makeup for her to glow, but not enough to look painted. She was wearing a black leather jacket, accented by a black Apple Jack hat that only showed the ends of her loosely curled hair. With a cigar clenched between her perfect teeth, she looked every bit of a gangstress. Though focus was really on Ayanna, Dena didn't go unnoticed.
Chiba tapped Lazy. “Yo, ain't that ya wife?”
Lazy heard Chiba, but he didn't respond. He just stood there slack-jawed, wondering what he had missed. Dena was looking right, sitting behind the wheel of the Caddy, all dolled up for the camera. When the remote hydraulics kicked in, Dena bent and rocked in time with the car. There were several inquires circulating through the crowd about who the chick pushing the hog was. All Lazy could do was stare, as his boo claimed her fifteen minutes of fame.
When the car finally stopped bouncing, Stacks stepped over the back of it and hopped to the ground, surprisingly nimble for a man his size. With a combination of swift hand gestures Stacks blacked out on the track, occasionally raining spittle on himself. On cue, Don B and True walked into frame. Stacks gave True a pound while Don B got right up on the camera and dangled his Big Dawg chain. The police had a hell of a time holding the crowd back as the two Harlem heroes got their stunt on for the camera.
“Girl, you see the size of that nigga's chain?” Roxy tapped Sugar. A blonde China doll wig covered most of her face, but you could still see the sky blue feather dangling from her right ear. She was wearing a one-piece gold body suit with the matching thigh-high stilettos. The front of the suit was slit to the point just above where her pubic hairs would start, if she hadn't shaved.
“Shit, niggaz in the Stuy can see it, the way that muthafucka is shining,” Sugar said. The denim mini she wore covered her ass but left little to the imagination.
“I wonder if it's real.”
Sugar gave her a funny look. “Girl, of course it's real. I did my homework on them niggaz before we stepped out. You know I got the main line on everybody. Long story short, them niggaz getting cake.”
“I can believe it,” Roxy nodded. “So, you come up with a way to get close to these niggaz yet?”
“I ain't think that far ahead, but what nigga don't love pussy? Shit, who got a better shot than us?”
“Not a bitch out here!” Roxy said with conviction.
“That's what I'm talking about. I ain't sure yet, but by the time they break to shoot the final scene up this bitch, I'll have figured it out.”

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