Shorty Gotta Be Grown

by T. C. Littles

  “What stores are you trying to hit to spend that fat-ass knot your daddy gave you?” I questioned Porsha, trying to get her attention on me and off her phone.

  “I don’t know. I’m probably gonna load up my RushCard and shop online. All of the boutiques around here that I know of have the same boring outfits at each one. What I might cop though are new gym shoes, a cell phone case, a purse or two, and another charm for my Pandora bracelet,” she responded like a spoiled brat.

  I wasn’t hating, nor did I blame Porsha for her attitude. She got it honest and had been placed on a pedestal since birth. Calvin and I prided ourselves on giving Porsha what she wanted, Benzie too. Being stingy with dope money didn’t make sense.

  “You’re lucky your parents sell dope. You should say thank you more often since we stay risking our lives to give you and Benzie the finer things in life. You see how them other kids be looking in the hood: rough, ratchet, and like li’l dirtballs. You got it good.” I was being honest.

  She smacked her lips, then turned them up like something smelled bad. “You and daddy been selling dope way before me and Benzie were thought of, so don’t put y’all choice of careers off on us. We were born into the game.”

  Right when I was getting ready to read Porsha again for having a smart-ass mouth, I laughed instead. She made the adage “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree” seem alive, true, and well. Porsha wasn’t acting out. She was acting like me. If I wanted her to act differently, I’d be beating the traces of me out of her, if ya get what I mean.

  After the waitress brought out our food and drinks, we dug in and enjoyed our lunch as mother and daughter. I might’ve not wanted to lighten up on her since she’d tried to get gully with me earlier. Still, I chalked her behavior up as karma and moved on. I might’ve not admitted it to Calvin, but I knew my bark was a little too vicious, and I didn’t want to push my Mini-Me away. In life, all we have is family. I might have had a funny way of showing it, but I’d lay my life on the line for all of mine, and I had. Once Porsha was grown with her own children or a family, she’d understand my stance and not keep a chip on her shoulder.

  * * *

  “Dang, Ma! You look fly as hell in that dress,” Porsha complimented me when I stepped out of the dressing room.

  We were finished with lunch and now at the mall. She’d done all the shopping she’d planned on doing, so now I was trying to find the perfect outfit to wear to the cabaret tonight. That was why I’d forced Porsha to come with me in the first place, to help style me, as the young kids these days called it, on fleek. I might’ve been her momma, but I still was fine as fuck and stepping on the toes of any of her other friends’ momma’s without trying.

  Ring, ring, ring.

  “Dig my phone out from my purse for me,” I told Porsha. I was busy posing in the mirror, trying to see how my curves looked in the dress. I wasn’t a flat-tummy, no-roll-having diva. I had meat on my skin and wore it well, along with clothes that fit me.

  “It’s Auntie Tanya.” Porsha held my phone up.

  I rolled my eyes. “Answer it and talk to her while I change.”

  Tanya was one of my older sisters. She and I were the most different of all my siblings. She was a teacher who dated an accountant and went to church every day of the week like Jesus Christ be at the service too. First of all, I didn’t wanna be bothered with my own kids, let alone a bunch of snotty brats who got on their mother’s nerves when not at school. Secondly, I wasn’t never about to bust it wide open for a nigga in a Brooks Brothers suit. If a nigga wasn’t a thug, I wasn’t fuckin’ with him. And lastly, I’d probably blow up into a million pieces if I stepped into the house of the Lord. I was a sinner who planned to keep sinning until the day I died.

  The extreme differences between Tanya and me kept us at each other’s necks like we were enemies with different blood. Yet and still, we’d link up in a heartbeat to beat an outsider’s ass. That was how all my sisters and I were for one another. Besides Tanya and me, my momma had Tiana, Trish, and Ruby (the oldest and named after my granny), all by the same nigga. She wasn’t a ho, but that didn’t keep him from not being shit.

  He beat my mom until she stopped breathing one day. While Tanya was busy trying to resuscitate my mom and call 911, I was busy breaking a mirror over our dad’s head, then slicing his throat with a piece of the broken glass. I didn’t serve time or no shit like that for murdering my daddy. However, child protective services opened a case on my mom to make sure the well-being of me and my sisters was intact. I also had to undergo extensive therapy that only made the visual playback of his neck squirting out blood as he died more in depth and constant. Yeah, you can believe it. I’d been coldblooded since I was a kid.

  Tanya called because my mom was losing the house we grew up in. She was off her rocker, popping pills every day. All of us daughters were supposed to pitch in and save the house we grew up in, but I was like fuck that ’cause that house was nothing but a representation of hell for each and every one of us. I’d told them time and time again that I wasn’t giving them one dirty dope dollar toward saving that house and that I’d feed her pill addiction instead, but Tanya kept calling me incessantly. Since we were kids, she’d been trying to boss me around because she was the older.

  Fuck age. She knew good and damn well that, between the two of us, I wasn’t the weak link. Besides, my momma probably wouldn’t take the money if I offered it to her. She’d never said it, but I felt like she started disliking me the day I killed her husband. I wasn’t pressed about carrying that monkey on my back, however. If Calvin ever raised his hand to strike me, I would send him to the grave too. I’d never been cut out to get beat on. My momma shouldn’t have been either.

  “Ma! Dang, what’s taking you so long in there?” Porsha tapped on the dressing room door.

  “Here I come, girl.” I slid on the next outfit, then stepped out, grabbing my phone. “Hey, sis. What’s up?”

  “We only got a little more time to pay the taxes on Momma’s house. Please tell me that you changed your mind about chipping in with the rest of us.” On the topic I’d expected, Tanya was ruining my mood. I hated repeating myself, especially about this.

  “Damn, Tanya. How many times do I have to tell you no? No, no, no, no! Y’all trifling as hell to wanna save that house of terrors. Matter of fact, I should go over there when Momma is gone and light that bitch on fire.” I spat venom, meaning each word.

  As soon as the words slipped off my tongue, my mind moved even quicker, trying to see if I could really burn the house to the ground and get away with it. I didn’t want to commit too many crimes surrounding my mom but really pertaining to my dad. Luck runs out, and I’d already walked away without even a slap on the wrist with one murder.

  “Sis, you’re crazy as hell for one. For two, you’re going to have to get over what happened when we were young. What are you planning on doing? Carrying that burden on your back forever?”

  “Yup. It ain’t nothing for me to do that, Tanya. What’s known didn’t have to be said.”

  She huffed and puffed, irritated by me not giving in and being an asshole in the process. “Argh, I swear, if you weren’t my sister—”

  “Yeah, whatever, Tanya. You better get off my phone. Goodbye.” I didn’t give her a chance to retort before hanging up.

  “Here, put this back in my purse.” I handed Porsha the phone after turning it down to vibrate. I didn’t need any additional distractions while shopping. This spree was hella important.

  Modeling back in the mirror, I was feeling myself the most in this dress. It showed the perfect amount of cleavage and half of my thick thighs, and it had a triangular dip in the back that showed my tramp stamp of Calvin’s name. I thought that was the part that made it a winner to me. I loved showing hoes I was branded along with my man. He had my name tatted on his neck.

  “Ma! Hello.” Porsha snapped her fingers in front of my face. “Are you getting that outfit or no? We’ve still gotta hit the beau
ty supply, and the good one closes before dark to keep from getting robbed,” she rushed me.

  “Yeah, damn. My bad. Give me your opinion—do you think I’m on fleek? Am I killin’ ’em? I’m trying to walk up in that party stunting hard,” I said, using a mouthful of young slang.

  She rolled her eyes at my choice of language. “Oh, wow, Ma! You swear you’re the one about to be eighteen. Yes, you look fleek. If you get a killer pair of heels and a handbag to match, you’ll have the whole hood of ho . . . oops, I mean, women, talking about you in the morning.”

  “Oooh, for real? Hell yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear. You know Momma likes to serve bitches nothing but the bomb dot com.”

  She blew out a long, exasperated breath of air like I was annoying her. “Please, Ma, quit being corny and get the dress. We’ve been in this store foreverrrr,” she complained. “And you’re killing me with your corniness.”

  “Shut ya ass up, I’m coming,” I sighed, giving in because I knew how it felt to be a teenage girl out with your wannabe-hip mother. “Matter of fact, g’on to the nail shop and put our names on the list.”

  I heard her say thanks over her shoulder, but Porsha started heading out the door as soon as I’d said the word “g’on.”

  PORSHA

  Being that school was out for the day and most people were done with work, the mall was swarming with people. The nail shop was really off the chain. Every pedicure chair bowl had some crusty feet in it, and every nail tech was filing or designing away. I put my and my mom’s names on the list along with the services we wanted and sat down. I only needed a fill-in and maybe a polish change on my toes, but my mom needed a full set and pedicure. I texted her a picture of the waiting area so she’d be prepared for the long wait.

  My phone was dry since it was still set on restricting Imani’s texts. I was, however, kinda salty that Street hadn’t called or texted me. Since we weren’t on our way back to the hood, I left the restriction on and stayed off social media, too. Imani was probably posting pictures there too.

  All into my phone, I’d tuned out all the background noise and movement going on around me. When I finally set my phone to sleep and looked up, my mother was coming in with a sour look on her face. She hated being cooped up in a room with a bunch of women. I didn’t think we were going to stay, but she ended up giving the manager a few dollars extra in exchange for moving us up the list.

  Another woman spoke up. “Um, excuse me! But I had an appointment for over an hour ago and have been waiting patiently. You can either seat me in a pedicure chair before or along with that lady and her kid or lose ya job. Don’t make me call the owner of this establishment on you. I don’t think Miss Woo will be too pleased about you running a loyal client away,” she threatened and complained.

  Of all the words the disgruntled customer said, “that lady and her kid” was the phrase I saw my mother’s eyes rise to. I knew my mother was seconds away from popping off. Politely taking her purse from her hand, I took two quick steps to the side and waited for the situation to play out.

  “No, no, no! You not have to call Miss Woo. I get you seated now,” the nail tech promised, spinning around to find a resolution to the suddenly urgent problem.

  The woman was busy feeling herself since she’d rushed the li’l Korean lady along. She had not even noticed Trinity walking from the pedicure chair back toward the waiting area, or me right on her heels. “Good idea. I like my water on the piping hot side.”

  “Hey, Miss Lady, are you good now? I couldn’t help but overhear how upset you were about me and my daughter getting seated before you.” She was mimicking the woman’s high- pitched and proper voice.

  The woman looked up, halfway frowning, and then rolled her eyes before responding. “Yes, I am. Just like you valued your time enough to cut in front of me, I value mine to do something about it.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, since this is the day to stand up for ourselves and shit, I didn’t like how you made a reference to me and mine. I’m gonna act like I’m a lady and not smack the shit out of you this one time, but if ya do it again, my hand will fly toward you without warning. I’m not trying to make you have an unpleasant day, so don’t make yourself have one.” Taking her attention off the woman, she then checked me. “Give me my damn purse. I’ll tell you when to hold my shit. I might’ve had to whip my buddy out and put a hot one in her impatient ass.”

  As Trinity nonchalantly marched back to the pedicure chair, the whole nail salon sat in awe and fear behind her blowup, the last statement especially. I was used to her clowning, but they hadn’t known what to expect. A few of the customers were disgusted enough to get up and walk out, including the disgruntled woman, while those cut from the same cloth as Trinity praised her for giving them a show. My mom fed off people kissing her ass, which was where I got the drive from.

  It took me a few minutes to pick out my polish, but after I did, I climbed into the pedicure chair beside my mom and found the perfect massage speed. By age, I wasn’t old enough to have kinks and stress. But it felt like there were weights on my shoulders and someone was relentlessly pinching the nerves in my back and neck. The vibrations from the chair were soothing.

  “There’s the thug right there. That wannabe lady in the black jogging suit,” I heard the lady’s voice yelling out, making me open my eyes. “She said she had a gun. Arrest her!”

  Two mall security guards were coming into the nail salon with grim expressions. Behind them was the lady my mom went tough on, telling them verbatim what she’d said. The manager dropped my mom’s feet into the bowl, splashing water everywhere, and rushed to intercept them from trapping us in the back of the salon. It wasn’t that she was going hard for us. She didn’t want the shop shut down, resulting in the owner being called. Her “dirty deed” would then be exposed. Too bad for her. The guards didn’t back down.

  “Ma’am, we need to search your bag. We don’t allow firearms on the premises,” one of the officers growled, pushing past the manager.

  Oh, shit.

  CHAPTER 4

  CALVIN

  Being one of the biggest drug dealers in Detroit, I rarely had time to fall back and chill with my family. Hell, I rarely got a moment of peace to think. Either a worker of mine was out of line, there was some drama from another squad, or I was simply in the mud hustling with Fame. Making money by living dangerously was the only way I knew how to live. So I was enjoying the small window of chill time I had with Benzie. All his toys were spread throughout the living room, and we had been watching clips off the sports channel all day. I did not watch cartoons with my boy, because wasn’t nothing funny about the world he was about to grow up in. Plus I wanted him to like all the hobbies and sports that men liked.

  Li’l man’s real name was Calvin III, but I got the nickname Benzie from my love for the Benz brand. As much as I loved having a daughter, I really loved having a son I could groom into a soldier. He would carry on my name. I wanted to make sure Benzie had a bond with me just in case our time together was shortened. I was not living to die or planning on death, but I was a realist. I lived a dangerous life, and now that there was a new breed of goons stepping onto the streets, I had become more of a target than ever before.

  “Yo, li’l man, are you hungry?” I grabbed us some snacks and a beer for me from the kitchen and came back to someone knocking on the door.

  “Who is it?” I called out, reaching for my chrome-plated piece that sat to the right side of me.

  “It’s Spider. Can I holla at you for a second, C-Note?”

  I raised the window and told Spider to come off the front porch so I could see him. “Yo, nigga, I’m spending some quality time with my son. Don’t waste my time coming down the muthafuckin’ stairs if you’re about to ask me for some credit.” I’d been hustling back and forth all day, but Spider was one of my regular customers who begged for credit on the usual. Mr. Nice Guy was not available for his bullshit today.

  “No, I don’t have any money, C-
Note. But I was trying to see if I could work it off. I can sweep your porch, wash your car, or do whatever odd job you got around here.”

  “A’ight then, Spider. You got it. I cannot and will not hate on a man willing to work for his. I don’t want to see a speck of dust on my porch when you knock back on my door. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, yes, thank you. I’m about to run down the street and get a broom.” He was tripping over his feet.

  Falling back on the couch, I popped the top off my beer and guzzled down a fourth of the bottle. There had been a slow and steady flow of customers since Porsha and Trinity hit the streets for their mother-daughter date, but I was about to shut the trap down. It was a good thing Spider was going to be outside in the yard, because I was going to have him send away anyone else who wanted to cop a baggie.

  I wanted to take a nap, then take Benzie out of the house for us to have a father and son playdate to the Riverwalk. I never knew my father to do corny shit like that, but that did not mean I wasn’t trying to create a new trend with my own son. I wanted Benzie to have memories of us playing at the park and playing catch, and I even wanted to coach him if he played Little League when he got older. I was proud to have plans for my li’l man.

  My phone rang and interrupted my thoughts.

  “Yo, are you outside?” I answered it and was straight to the point.

  “Yup, yup. I am walking up on the porch now,” my top worker replied.

  Elvin “Street” Thomas was one of the hardest-working hustlers on my squad, which was why I’d called him to meet up with me. He had been my protégé since he was a teenager and held major respect among his peers. Street was the first man in charge at my trap house on the block, the very first dope house I opened up years ago. It was the first house Trinity and I got together as a couple.

  “What up doe, nephew?” Street spoke to Benzie, then shook his hand and addressed me. “Li’l fella is getting big, boss. He’s gonna be knockin’ clowns out around here.”