Girls from da Hood 14

by Treasure Hernandez

  “But I’m broke, and besides, I’m going to do some homework, so it’s kinda school day for me just the same,” Melody nonchalantly announced, keeping her stride.

  “So, wow, I guess you too?” The driver snapped at me, thinking I was about to repeat the same excuse. But I didn’t. I grilled the shit out of his lopsided fade ass and fed the meter a dollar.

  I couldn’t help but smile as I walked past Melody. She was already seated next to a young woman and wasn’t wasting any time. Like a hawk, I watched from the rear of the bus as Melody made the clip. All in one smooth motion, she removed the woman’s wallet from her purse and slyly tucked it inside her coat pocket. The girl had skills, and she was so bold with her shit that she even had the nerve to spark up a conversation with the woman. She smiled and snickered at whatever she was saying as if they were best of friends.

  We got off on Greenfield and Eight Mile Road. Then we walked the rest of the way across to Northland Mall.

  “How many ten-dollar bills you got on you?” Melody asked as we cut through the parking lot.

  “Uh . . . let me see . . . six,” I said.

  “I’ma show you how to turn sixty into six hundred. Give ’em to me.”

  “So, what you want me to do?” I asked as we entered Target.

  “Just follow my lead.” Melody pulled out an ink pen and told me to give her the hundred-dollar bill I had. We stood over by an application booth. I watched over Melody’s shoulder while she scribbled some numbers on the back of the hundred. Then she handed it back to me, tucked the pen back into her pocket, and started for the doors leading out into the mall area.

  I didn’t know what that girl was on, but I was down for whatever. As long as we came out with that thousand dollars she promised, then . . . bingo!

  “You say I need some new pants, right?” asked Melody. She stopped in the center of the mall.

  “Yeah, at least two pair.”

  “All right. Well, we gonna start with one pair. You see that store?” Melody nodded at the Sun’s 2 sign.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” I asked, looking at the store.

  “I want you to go in there and buy me some pants. Use that hundred to buy them. Get size 7–8.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  “Then you watch me work. Go ahead. I’ma wait out here for you.”

  “All right.” I let out a deep sigh, then headed for the store. One of the sales representatives greeted me. Ole girl looked like she needed to be in somebody’s magazine modeling something, but instead, she was there blessing the store and its customers with her beauty.

  “How can I help you?” she asked, smiling.

  “What new jeans do you have?”

  “Uh, let’s see.” She turned, leading me over to a wall full of denim.

  “How about these? We just got them in last week.” She unfolded a pair of crispy jeans and handed them to me. The tag read thirty-seven dollars.

  “Let me get these in a 7–8,” I said.

  “Would that be all?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.” I followed her over to the register. With confidence, I paid for the jeans with the hundred-dollar bill. She gave me my receipt with my change, and I was on my way.

  Stepping out of Sun’s, I didn’t see Melody anywhere in sight. Then out of nowhere, she peeked from inside the jewelry store. “What’d you get?” she asked.

  “These here,” I said, trying to hand her the bag.

  “Hold on to them. I’ll be right back. Wait for me down in the food court. Matter of fact, give me another right quick,” she said, holding her hand out, wiggling her finger impatiently. I handed her a twenty. She scribbled some numbers on the bill, then gave it back to me.

  “Use this to get something to eat,” she instructed before setting out to do whatever it was she came to do.

  I wanted to watch the lick when it went down, but I didn’t want to blow up the spot either, so I did what Melody said. I waited down in the food courts. I bought a number one from McDonald’s. A few minutes later, Melody came bopping with a Sun’s 2 bag in her hand. She nodded, stepping to the counter of McDonald’s.

  “Can I help you?” asked the same young man who had served me. I was eating my food and watching the scene at the same time ’cause I knew Melody was about to put some shit in the game.

  “Yeah, let me get a number two,” she said, looking up at the menu.

  “That’ll be three dollars and twelve cents.” The man drummed his fingers on the register, as Melody peeled through her wad.

  Fuck she get all that money from? I thought.

  “Here you go.” She handed the man a five. When the man counted Melody’s change back to her and tore the receipt from the register, Melody went on one.

  “Whoa, whoa, hold up. Where’s the rest of my change?”

  “Let me see,” the man counted it back. “Yeah, that’s correct. You ordered the number two, which is two dollars and ninety-nine cents, plus tax.”

  “Since when is tax fifteen dollars?” yelled Melody.

  “Excuse me, but I’m lost.”

  “I know the fuck you is lost. I gave you a twenty.”

  “No, I’m pretty certain you just gave me a five, miss.”

  “You gonna tell me I didn’t give you a twenty? What, you gon’ take my shit? That’s what you doing?”

  Melody was loud enough to where the manager heard her and came out of her office to see what was going on.

  “Is there a problem, young lady?”

  “Yeah, and it’s gonna be a problem if he don’t give me my correct change.”

  “She’s mistaken. She believes that she gave me a twenty. But I only took a five from her,” the cashier informed the manager.

  “My momma just gave me that twenty. Matter of fact, my phone number is on the back of the bill. It’s 313-893-0043.”

  The manager punched in her code and thumbed through all the twenties. Sure as shit, there sat the bill I had just used to pay.

  “I am so sorry, young woman. I assure you this will never happen again.” The manager handed Melody the entire twenty back and told her the meal was free.

  She came over and took a seat across from me. I was holding my side from laughing so hard because her slick ass had convinced me too that she really paid with a dub—that’s how serious she was at that counter.

  “I don’t pay for nothing,” she said with her eyes bucked as she bit into her double cheeseburger.

  I couldn’t front, this girl had old-school game. And I was going to ride her coattail all the way to the bank. We stayed out at the mall all day, burning up damn near all the stores.

  Chapter Five

  Melody

  In the two days that Bags and I had been hustling and working the tills, she had $2,300. I knew the exact amount because she counted it every chance she got like a bill was going to slip out of her pocket and take off running. Despite my advice, she was still carrying all her money on her at once. And after seeing her aunt’s crib, I couldn’t blame her. I was sitting in the front room on a stained, soiled sofa and waiting on Bags so we could do our one-two. She’d been picking me up since we started hanging, so I figured it was my turn.

  “What, you too damn good to sit down and eat my breakfast like the rest of us?” I could hear her aunt cutting into her ass. So far, everything Bags had told me was one hundred. There the ole lady sat, perched centerfold, watching everything, me included, her broad face twisted up in disgust.

  “Nah, that ain’t it. I got somebody waiting on me,” Bags said calmly. She wasn’t trying to stir her up bitchin’, but the ole auntie was set on doing so anyway. She reminded me of my grandma back in Chicago. The day wouldn’t be off to a good start unless she pitched a bitch.

  “I see you got on new clothes every day the week,” Auntie said, looking Bags from head to toe.

  “Yeah, I got ’em off the clearance rack.”

  “I’ll bet to hell ya did. But I’ma tell you one thing. Ya ass get caught stealing, ya better
have bail money, ’cause I won’t be down there to get you.”

  “Oh, trust me. I know,” Bags said, being smart. She tossed back the rest of her orange juice, then rinsed the glass.

  Bags nodded at the door. “I’ma catch you later.”

  Her aunt was staring a hole through Bags’s back as she slid into her new jacket.

  “You ready?” she asked, stepping into the living room.

  “Yeah, let’s make it,” I said, following Bags to the front door while shaking my clothes on the low. I wasn’t trying to take nothing extra back home with me. We had our own roaches. Plus, her aunt’s crib was a different kind of dirty, that “no thanks, I’ll stand” kind of dirty.

  Bags let the door slam as we stepped on the porch. She looked at me like, “I told you.” As we stepped off the porch, her uncle Tony was on his way in.

  “Damn, Unc. You look tired as hell.”

  “It’s called work,” Tony said, brushing past us.

  “Nah, it’s called stupid,” Bags mumbled. I could tell Tony had just ruined Bags’s mood by the way her face was all balled up.

  “You straight, B?”

  “Yeah, I am. I just can’t wait until I get enough bread to where I ain’t never gotta come back to this house. Enough to move my little brother and me far away.”

  “We gonna get that money up. Summertime, remember?” I stuck out my fist for a pound, to which Bags pulled back a smile and hit rocks with me.

  “So, what’s up? Where we going today?” I asked, ready to turn into Melody.

  “I say we finish burnin’ up the city. Gotta get it while the gettin’ is good.”

  “You know what you know, ’cause soon, that’s how it’s gon’ be . . . burnt up. Each store is a one-time deal. Then it’s over.”

  We caught the bus going west. We had been mainly working the East Side, and I didn’t want to risk somebody seeing us running the same trick twice. So, I thought we’d hit up the West Side. Bags kept to the back of the bus while I set my sights on my money the red-faced nigga with dreads was holding for me in his left pants pocket. He looked from the window as I took my place beside him. He did what a million other people did right before they got picked. He looked down at all the empty seats as if to say, “Damn, girl, why you all on me?”

  You know I wasn’t stuntin’ that nigga and his feelings. The quicker he played victim, the quicker I could give him all the space his heart desired. Soon as he returned to looking out the window, I assumed the two-finger dip position and waited for the first rock of the bus. Got him. I locked on the wallet and waited for the next rock. I pulled the wallet out, but it was hooked to a chain.

  “Hold up, little bitch. I know you ain’t got yo’ hand in my pocket!” The dude stood up towering over me, ready to swing.

  “Nah, it was falling, so I was just helping you out,” I claimed. I was thinking about snapping crazy on his ass, but there was only one problem. He looked like he would beat all the shit out of me. I tried to stand up so I could move, but the dreaded beast yanked me by the arm.

  “Girl, I ain’t done with you.” Not caring if I were a female or not, he took a wild swing. Thank God, I ducked and sidestepped right into a seat. But I was trapped. He held his hand cock back like he was trying to decide where it would hurt the most. He was in midswing. Yet, he never made it because Bags blew his shit clean out in the name of Jesus. The guy folded up and was out cold. Bags put feet all upside his head, while I got what he’d unknowingly been holding for me.

  The bus driver pulled the bus over and picked up the phone. I had to pull Bags off the dude ’cause she was about to stomp him blind.

  “B, I think he’s calling the police. Let’s go,” I begged, pulling her by the arm.

  “Yeah, keep the change, bitch,” I hollered at ole boy on our way to the back of the bus.

  “Yo, open the fuckin’ door,” Bags yelled at the driver. She was jerking and kicking at it. However, the driver had it locked.

  “We gotta wait on the police to get here,” the driver yelled.

  Bags wasn’t trying to hear that. She pulled her trusted, never-leave-home-without-it pistol from her waist. People on the bus were getting low in their seats as Bags made her way up toward the driver.

  “Oh, Jesus,” one churchgoing woman closed her eyes and prayed.

  “Look, if you don’t open this door, and I mean right now, I’ma dust yo’ ass.” Bags stood back and cocked the hammer.

  I guess the driver wasn’t ready to die. Quickly, he grabbed the lever and opened both doors. I got off the back, while Bags got off the front. She nodded for the strip mall across the street. “We need to split up. Meet back here when it calms down.”

  We dodged the oncoming traffic in a hurry to get away from the scene. I went one way, and Bags went the other. I guess the driver was scared enough because he said fuck waiting on the police. He pulled away from the curb as soon as the traffic cleared up.

  After dipping in and out of vacant lots until the coast was clear, we met back up at the strip mall. Bags was waiting for me in the parking lot right outside the Laundromat.

  “Fuck you laughing at?” I asked, out of breath.

  “Yo’ scary ass. That nigga was ’bout to beat the sleeves off you.” Bags continued riding me.

  “That asshole wasn’t gon’ do nothing except what he did.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Get knocked the fuck out.”

  “I already know. I’m just fuckin’ with you. I wasn’t gon’ let him get off on you.”

  “Anyway . . .” I wanted to switch the subject. “We haven’t hit this spot yet. It’s as good a place as any.”

  “Cool with me. Where you wanna start?”

  I looked around, then at the Dollar Store beside the Laundromat. “We can start here.”

  “All right. I’m ’bout to kick it off then,” said Bags. She started for the Dollar Store while I fell back. I ain’t like the way that shit on the bus had played out. Bitch-ass nigga had a purse hook. Where the fuck a grown-ass man do that at? Anyway, he fucked up my record, but whatever. I scanned the parking lot in search of somebody I could redeem myself on. I zoomed in on a woman coming out of Rite Aid. The way she was holding her purse, I knew she had something of value in it.

  “I see you back on your shit,” Bags said smiling, as she emerged from the Dollar Store.

  I had just finished clipping ole girl. “I had to get my mojo back; plus, she was holding.”

  “What she have?”

  “I don’t know. Here, count it up and meet me at the Chinese restaurant.”

  “All right. I went through the line with the yellow bone cashier,” said Bags.

  I walked to the back of the store and picked up a bottle of dish soap and a roll of toilet paper, then stopped at the cashier’s drawer Bags told me she went through.

  “Woo woo woo. Baby girl, you slippin’ on my change,” I said calmly at first. But ole girl looked at me like I had lost my mind.

  “Let me see,” she said, snatching back the change. “No, that’s right,” she said, trying to hand me back the money.

  “Look, skunk meat, if you don’t get the rest of mines, we gon’ have some problems.”

  “Unt-unn . . . Girl, did you hear what she called you?” the other cashier said, all in my mix.

  “Yeah, I heard her, and she ’bouts to get fucked around if she keep slippin’.”

  “Bitch, I will slap two perms in that nappy shit of yours. Get my mothafuckin’ money out of that drawer.”

  “I got yo’ bitch,” she snapped while coming from behind the counter, hands open, like... “What’s up?”

  “What seems to be the problem?” The manager came flying up, trying to get between us.

  I ran down my spiel about her not giving me my correct change. “My number is on the back of the bill. My momma makes me write it on all my bills.”

  The manager popped the drawer; then, of course, cashed me out.

  “But I know what sh
e gave me.” I could hear ole girl saying as I pushed the door open.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Bags was at the counter, getting our order when I walked inside the Chinese restaurant.

  “You get that?” Bags asked over her shoulder.

  “What kind of question is that?” I slid into one of the booths and took my jacket off.

  Bags spread the sweet & sour chicken, pepper steak, shrimp fried rice, and egg rolls across the table. As we sat there, an old man came inside the restaurant. After giving us the side-eye, he cut into us, claiming he had a business proposition if we were interested. We looked at each other, hoping he was not just some random old perv trying to buy some cheap pussy. If so, we were not selling. He went into his pocket and took out his wallet. He pulled out a business card. “I met a thousand of yous. Call me when you ready to make some real money. Not like the piddly sums you make running games at the Dollar Store.”

  We both looked at him, shocked that he knew what we did.

  “Yeah, I was in there and saw the scam you ran.” He handed each of us a business card, then walked out.

  * * *

  All day yesterday, while we was out killin’ the till, the only thing I could think about was the old man and what he said. His words lived in my head . . . “I met a thousand of yous.” He had me feeling like the typical hood rat, like “What you doing ain’t nothin’, slick.” I kept looking at his card: Mr. Brooks, it read. I knew money when I saw it. And I was certain that old guy was holding it. I could feel it in my soul.

  I wanted to get up with his old ass and see what he was talking about as far us working for him. Who knows, it could be our shot at some real money. But my homegirl was on some scary shit. Melody thought that he might be trying to lure us somewhere and kill us. I’m not saying that’s not what he was on, because I didn’t know his ass either. But I ain’t never been one to get caught slippin’. I prided myself on that. Besides, that’s what and where my pistol came into play. It ain’t let me down yet. I said fuck what Melody’s shook ass was talking about. I wasn’t about to miss my lick. I’m an opportunist, and chances make champions, feel me? Them little burn-out licks that she had us on were straight. The shit was game to me. Yet, they were also one-shot deals. I needed something more stable to come all the way up. So I called the number on the card, throwing caution to the wind.