Girls from da Hood 14

by Treasure Hernandez

  “Okay, so you comin’ with me or what?” I asked. I had just hung up the phone from talking to Mr. Brooks.

  “I’m tellin’ you, B, I don’t trust that man. He’s creepy as hell.”

  “Look, girl, I don’t trust him neither. But I’m sayin’, trust me.” I upped the gun from my waist and continued. “I’m not gon’ let nothin’ happen to us. No matter what, we coming up out on top. Period.”

  “Okay, but—”

  “But what? Dang, Melody, we done robbed damn near every store in Detroit in less than a week. What we gon’ do next? Go back to digging in random niggas’ pockets and might get killed behind the bullshit?”

  “I’m not complaining. Shit, the games been good to me. But you might be right.”

  “Might be right? Girl, I know I’m right. We not growing if we keep running in circles. It’s time to do something else ’cause we damn near grown. What we gon’ do, pick and rob for the rest of our lives?”

  “Shit, back in Chicago—”

  I finally snapped. “You don’t get it, do you? Nigga, you ain’t in Chicago no more, so stop talkin’ ’bout that ‘back in Chicago’ shit. This is Detroit, the city of playas, hustlas, pimps, and gators.”

  “Yeah, I know.” She dropped her head.

  “Then act like you know. The only way we gonna come up is if we level up. We gotta stop playin’ out here.” I was so mad that I had to stop and fire up a Newport. I really fucked with Melody the long way, which is why I wanted us to make the possible come-up move together. But she wasn’t on it like I was. My ribs were touching, and I was down for whatever to get at a dollar. I was tired of just surviving. I felt like it was time to get over. “I know what it is. Yo’ ass is spoiled. You don’t have to be out here doing what you doing for real, and that’s why you playin’. But me, though, I’m dead-ass serious.”

  * * *

  The front door opened. Pops stepped inside, smiling, with LC dead on his heels. They stopped in the living room, where they always did their exchange. LC had a black diamond mink draped over his shoulders. He wore big, black, block gator boots. He stayed casket clean, and that’s precisely where his ass was going to be soon. I hated that old bitch nigga. In fact, so much so that I forgot what Melody and I were just talking about. I stubbed my square into the ashtray, then grabbed my jacket.

  “Come on, we out,” I announced, standing up from the sofa.

  “Hey, Miss Lady, I ain’t seen you in a while. You been all right?” asked LC, looking me up and down.

  “You hear LC talkin’ to you, Sonya?” Pops butted in, trying to earn brownie points for a possible discount.

  “Yeah, I heard him.” I still didn’t answer, though. I grabbed the door handle and let Melody step out first. I wasn’t never with the fake and phony shit. If I didn’t fuck with you, we weren’t about to do the pretending thing. It is what it is with me.

  “What’s up with that old-time player back in there? Why you so cold to him?” Melody cut off into me.

  “You see that over there?” I nodded at LC’s candy-apple red Caddy parked at the curb.

  “Yeah, that bad boy is fresh.” Melody admired the shiny rims.

  “I know. And look where my peoples are living. All the dope my father snorts comes from his ass. He jumping out with minks on his back my peoples helped sponsor. So, yeah, fuck him and fuck speaking to him. Let’s just be out.”

  We caught a cab to the address that Mr. Brooks gave me. Melody could fall back when we got there. She could just linger around outside, and I’d get the true official rundown.

  When we arrived at our destination, I did just that. “Just stay here and wait to count our new hustle come-up money.” With my pistol tucked in the small of my back, I marched into the building. Sitting behind a huge oak desk in the far corner of the room was Mr. Brooks. With my chest stuck out, I made my way toward him.

  “Have a seat.” He motioned to a chair.

  “No, thanks. I prefer to stand.” That way, there would be fewer motions to go through if I didn’t like what he had to say.

  Luckily for Melody and me, what Mr. Brooks had in mind was definitely something we could work with. And certainly something that would get and keep our pockets off of craps for some time to come.

  Chapter Six

  Sonya

  I could tell that Melody didn’t care one way or the other if we hit the lick. She was on some real shook shit thinking that it was all a setup and that Mr. Brooks was rocking us to sleep. I was tired of hearing all that scared talk. I was not about to let her blow them twenty-four stacks promised. I mean—damn, all we had to do was move some punk-ass vehicles from one spot to the next. Since Mr. Brooks was part owner in the Ford dealership, what could go wrong? Besides, we even had the keys, so how hard could it be? That loss would be between him and his partner that he had come to hate.

  No longer in the mood to baby Melody, I gave it to her raw. “If I have to stay up all night and transport the vehicles one by one, I will. And if so, no matter how close we are, you ain’t gettin’ no parts of the cash.” Having thought about having half of twenty-four racks versus none snapped her back to reality.

  “I’m in,” she said. My hustle buddy was back.

  Dressed in black and Jordan sneakers, we worked all through the night. Moving the Navigators first, then the Expeditions, we were on a roll. Styling in a few Mustangs, the task was close to being completed. It was a little shy of three in the morning, and we were exhausted. We’d made eleven trips in total between us and had one more truck to move before calling it a night. I was riding shotgun with Melody as she pushed the stolen, fully loaded F-150. Floating down East Jefferson, we were soon right back at the dealership ready to get it in.

  “Okay, Melody, last one. Then we home free.” I grabbed the door handle and jumped down out of the truck and confidently walked across the lot, keys in hand. Then I pushed the alarm button as I cut across the grass, seeing Melody pull off.

  Hurriedly, I slid behind the wheel of the midnight-blue Mustang, cranked the engine, and backed out of the space. After pulling out into traffic, my heart sank. A Detroit police cruiser drove by on the other side of the road. Seeing how late it was, the officers were, of course, suspicious. The driver and I locked eyes. It was easy to know what was about to take place as the car hooked a hard U.

  I weighed my options. If I just hoped and prayed they weren’t focused on me and were suddenly headed somewhere else that required a swift change in direction, I’d be a fool. Without delay, I exercised Plan B. I floored the bitch, putting the high-performance engine to work.

  I could see the cops’ light flick on in the rearview mirror. I had them by a good enough distance, though, because they weren’t prepared for a full-blown pursuit that I was willing, able, and prepared to take on. For the cops, them catching me was just them doing their job. For me, getting away meant me keeping my freedom and collecting that huge cash payout from Mr. Brooks.

  I gripped the wheel with both hands and punched it down a random side street. I busted a sharp left and gunned it down a few blocks over. I assumed the cops thought I would try jumping down on the freeway so I could punch the Mustang wide open. However, I didn’t. I couldn’t risk possibly having not only the Detroit police on my ass but also the Michigan State Police as well. Instead, I played it smart and cautiously doubled back in the direction I’d come from. After ducking and dodging here and there, I ended up near the old, abandoned Packard plant. I couldn’t go to jail, not tonight anyway, was all that stayed on my mind. All I had to do was make it back to the collision shop. And I would. Taking a few more back roads, I knew I was home free. I made the last turn down the dimly lit block. Thankfully, I could see Melody parked across the street, waiting. I hit the horn and flashed her a huge smile. She pulled behind me, and the garage door to the collision shop flew open.

  Earl was on edge from all the sirens he’d heard. He waved us both in. Then he stepped out and looked up and down the block before snatching the garag
e door closed. I could easily see why he was so cautious. He had well over a million dollars’ worth of stolen cars and parts inside his chop shop. They had everything from air bags, door panels, rims, bumpers, engines, seats, etc. Melody jumped down from the F-150. After stepping out of the Mustang, we both joined the musty, shady-looking king of the illegal castle near his office door. He wore a soiled wife beater and muddy, oily jeans but had to be making money by the boatload.

  “Yeah, so, these are the last two on the list,” Earl acknowledged, marking something onto a clipboard which he clutched diligently. Slowly, he walked all around both vehicles, inspecting them for damage, then checked the interiors just as he’d done the others.

  “Man, they all perfect, so what up, doe? Is we good?” I snapped, ready to get to the good part . . . leaving from that hot box building of felonies.

  “Yes, we’re good. I’ll pass the word along,” Earl said, not taking his eyes from the clipboard.

  “Well, let us out then,” Melody insisted, who was jumpier than I was.

  “And look, I don’t know what you doodling on ya li’l pad and whatnot, but all them shits were straight when we brought ’em up in here,” I made it clear stopping at the door. “So, I don’t want no bullshit.”

  “For two females, y’all both mighty feisty. Now, damn, I said that I would pass the word, so relax. You’ll get paid.” He pushed the door open while keeping his eyes on me until the door closed.

  “What happened back there?” Melody asked as we started walking down the block.

  “Let’s grab some Coney Island and go chill at my crib until daybreak when it’s time to get cashed out. I’ll tell you then. But just know your friend is the shit.”

  Chapter Seven

  Melody

  I woke up to Bags’s musty-ass daddy leaning over me in a two-finger dip position. The old bastard was trying to clip me in my sleep. He would have had me too if it weren’t for the screaming stench rising off his body. I squinted up at him and pulled my coat all the way off my face. “Bags, man, get yo’ daddy before I break his old-ass hand.”

  Bags sat up and laughed after peeping the move. “What, I ain’t tell you? You gotta sleep with both hands tucked in yo’ pockets ’round here.”

  “And one eye open. It’s all fair games . . .” Pops slurred, still holding his position as if he couldn’t get socked in the mouth.

  “Pops, leave my girl alone.”

  “Hey, Sonya, give yo’ daddy some more of that money you holding. I know you got some ’cause I can smell it.”

  “Here, man, damn.” Bags handed him a few bills, then stood up from the sofa as he bolted out of the room to go cop a morning blast. “So, you ready to help out or what?” she asked me.

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost seven. But by the time we make it over the way, the spot should be open.”

  “Yeah, okay, let’s go.” I stretched and yawned, then stood up and slid into my lightweight jacket. I wanted to wash my face and at least brush my teeth, but since dealing with Sonya, I’d let my hygiene fall way off. Wiping the sleep out of the corner of my eyes, I promised myself that I was going to take a long, hot bath later on. I’d barely been home as of late, and my mother and sisters had threatened to disown me if I didn’t fly right. Nevertheless, thankfully, I would throw them a few dollars to keep them quiet.

  * * *

  The address where we were to meet Mr. Brooks was in view. When I opened the door of the greasy spoon diner, our eyes met his. There sat Mr. Brooks with his leg crossed, sipping coffee while reading the paper.

  “Morning, young ladies,” he smiled, putting the paper down, waving for us to come over and sit. “Have y’all ate breakfast? They have some great food here.”

  “Naw, not hungry,” Bags replied, ready to cut to the chase.

  “No problem. I understand young people, such as you two, don’t wanna slow down. But you know that they say breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

  “Look,” I spoke up, “with all due respect, fuck breakfast. We just need what is due us; nothing more, nothing less.”

  My words did not move Mr. Brooks. With a grin, he took another small sip from his coffee. Then he reached down beside him, grabbed two brown paper bags, and pushed them across the table, one to each of us.

  “I believe that’s what I owe you.” Mr. Brooks released the bags and sat back. He was amused, watching us fight the temptation to open them.

  “Just as I thought. You gals did well, except the police chase, of course.”

  Both our eyes opened like saucers. How did he know about the chase?

  “No need for an explanation. No harm, no foul. So, are you girls interested in making some more money, or what?”

  “When do you need us?” Bags wasted no time speaking up.

  “In a couple of days. I’ma give ya some time to enjoy ya earnings. Maybe get your hair and nails done, but I’m going to tell you, the next job won’t be moving cars. Y’all still down?”

  “Whatever it is, it’s fine as long as we keep getting cashed out,” assured Bags.

  “Give me a call in two days, and I should have everything lined up.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Brooks.” Bags slid out of the booth respecting the fact the old man had kept his word.

  Mr. Brooks raised his cup of coffee in salutation.

  I slid out of the booth behind Bags and started for the door. As soon as we got outside, we ran to the back of the alley, pulling and tearing at our paper bags.

  “So, what you ’bout to do with all that money?” I asked.

  “I’m ’bout to hit the car lot and do a little shopping,” Bags said, excited to be all the way up.

  “All right, sis. But let’s not forget about your goal.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Getting yo’ own spot and moving your li’l brother out with you. Remember that?”

  “Yeah, no doubt. Fuck my auntie. That’s at the top of my list.” Bags nodded, still with her face buried in the paper bag.

  “Well, me, I’m ’bout to catch a cab home and climb in bed after I take a bath. I’m still exhausted from last night.”

  We parted ways with much different agendas for our blessed windfall. Like night and day, one thing we had in common was a thirst for making money. So, no matter how we moved spending cash, at the end of the day, earning it was king.

  Chapter Eight

  Sonya

  I couldn’t wait to see the expression on my auntie’s face when I pulled up in my new car. Sure, it wasn’t a brand-new vehicle off the lot like those I was pushing the previous night. But it was still brand-new to me and better than anything Auntie was driving.

  “Fam, this your car?” Cuzzo smiled.

  “Oh, yeah . . .” I shrugged, playing it like it was nothing.

  Cuzzo went to check the vehicle out while I finished frontin’ on my new phone. And, of course, waiting on Auntie to show up to bug out. Under a minute, I saw a solar eclipse appear at the front door. I turned all the way around, and there she stood, arms folded, her expression stank. I plastered a wide grin across my face, knowing it was about to be on. “How you doin’, Auntie?” I taunted.

  By that time, my whole family was out there riding my jock except for her. The kids wanted me to take them for a ride. “None of you is getting in that car,” she warned. “I’d bet my life that car is stolen.”

  I reached in the glove box and produced the bill of sale. Even when I waved it in her face, she was having no part of it. “Please, anyone can forge one of those,” she said.

  To make her even more heated, I dug in my pocket and pulled out all of my remaining money. I licked my thumb and peeled off three hundred-dollar bills. Playing the big-shot role, I tried to hand it to Auntie.

  “I don’t want no drug money from the likes of you. You keep that shit from around my address and away from my kids.”

  “Are you serious right now? You, of all people, turning down money? Imagine that. You
funny as hell right about now.”

  “Am I?” She posted her hands on her hips.

  “Yeah, Auntie, you live for money, no matter what. You think everyone in the family don’t know how you cut?”

  “And just how am I cut? You tell me what my no-good family has to say.”

  “Whatever. I’m not gonna rat nobody out.”

  “Look, girl, why don’t you take that money and find yourself an apartment? Maybe one with that girl you been running around with the last few weeks or so. It’ll be best for all of us because Lord knows that you’re not going to change.”

  “What’s that supposed the mean?”

  “Look, I done put up with enough of the crazy hours you insist on keeping, skipping school, and all. And to top it off, you running around here don’t know if you wanna be a boy or a girl.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow. So just go,” Auntie repeated, not backing down one bit.

  “Okay, that’s fine. But I’ma take Devin with me.” I bossed up, prepared to do battle.

  “Oh, hell naw. I’m not about to let you destroy that kid’s life like you done did yours.”

  “And I’m not going to leave him in this dump to be mistreated.”

  “You watch your fucking mouth.” Auntie took a step closer. “For close to seventeen damn years, your rotten ass done lived under my roof, ate my food, drank my water, and whatever else. So, for you to stand up here in my face and call my house a dump takes a lot of nerve. Devin is mine. I got paperwork that says so. Your sorry-ass mammy ain’t want him or your ungrateful ass, remember? So, I took y’all instead of letting the State take you.”

  “And you ain’t never let me or my brother forget it,” I fired back, elated I no longer had to hold my tongue. The money I’d made the night before in my pocket had made me brave. I was standing there close to punching ole auntie dead in her shit. How dare she! Making it seem like we were eating crab legs and steak and wearing the latest fashions at her expense. That woman knew like I did that was the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, my brother and I were sleeping on the floor, eating Focus Hope and mayonnaise sandwiches. So, I wasn’t going to stand there and allow her to pat herself on the back too much, because we had earned our keep with the checks she was receiving monthly.