Per usual, I got caught up watching Tony converse with the man who I assumed was the director, and when done, he looked dead at me.
“Wanna say hi to your boo? I mean, ex boo?” Shanece asked.
“I guess. But only because he saw me.”
“Right.”
We waited for the crosswalk signal before going across King. We made it to the other side safely and slowly got closer to where Tony, Eitan, and Rahim were surrounded by women and other niggas. Once the music started, Tony got out of the way as everyone watched Eitan do his thing in front of the camera.
“This is dope.” I stood next to Tony, eating this good ass donut. Shanece had gotten as close as she could to the scene they were shooting so that she could watch.
“’Preciate that.” He kept his eyes on Eitan. He didn’t flirt, joke, or call me beautiful, so he must have been mad. Hell, he barely looked my way. But I didn’t care. I said what I needed to so he’d leave me the fuck alone.
“Want a donut? I have six.” I put the box in his view since he wouldn’t look at me.
“I thought you said you ain’t wanna be friends. So what the fuck you doing in my face, offering me donuts and shit?” he spat, causing a few people nearby to tune in.
“I’m just being nice, Tony—”
“Yeah, well I ain’t ask you to be nice to me. You need to get the fuck on and go lay up under that nigga you fucking. Give his bitch ass a donut.”
“Houston, really?” I felt myself tearing up for some reason as I stared up at his contorted yet handsome face. The tattoos on his mug never took away from his good looks.
I stood right in front of him, wanting him to look me in the eyes.
“I’m busy, Camarih, so if you ain’t offering me no pussy, get the fuck on somewhere.”
I inhaled sharply, allowing his cologne to make its way up my nose as he shoulder bumped me lightly to go around. I turned to see his back facing me already as he walked off.
“Hey, Tony.” A girl touched him lightly.
“Nah, ya pussy is too ran through for me.” He moved away from her touch, embarrassing her. “I’ll see you later though.” He tugged lightly on the tank top of her homegirl who immediately began grinning at Tony as he kept it pushing to, I guess supervise the shoot.
When I turned back around, I noticed two hoes staring me down.
“Can I help you? Yeah, don’t get fucked up.” I added the last part once they looked away.
Seeing Shanece was still enthralled, I texted her that I was going to sit in her car before doing just that. I hated Tony and wanted to be nowhere near him.
Shanece Porter
I stood as close as I could to keep an eye on the scene of the music video. I loved the music business but didn’t want any parts of it that would make me famous.
I enjoyed my job working for Scene Magazine. I got to be in the thick of shit but didn’t have to deal with the media always in my business and the other so-called perks of fame.
I’d never heard of this Eitan guy, but he was dope, and so was this song. I knew if I got an interview with him for the magazine, before he blew up, which he would, that would definitely put me in the running for a promotion.
One day I wanted to be CEO of Scene, but I knew I had to climb the ladder to do so. And making sure the magazine was the first to introduce this Eitan guy to mainstream, would surely push me up a few steps or more.
“Aight. At this point, all the hoes need to get in the shot.” Tony spoke up through the megaphone, so the girls dressed scantily clad began to enter the filming area to do whatever it was they were hired for. “Get yo’ ass in the scene. Didn’t you hear me call for all the hoes.” Tony frowned at me.
This rude muthafuck—
“Nigga, I’m not here to work! And I am not a hoe. I work for a music magazine! Scene, actually!”
“Oh, word?” He grinned widely. He was actually handsome, despite his ignorant ass demeanor and the small word tattoo above his eyebrow that read Gifted. There was another on the side of the opposite brow reading MAK. “Still don’t mean yo’ ass ain’t a hoe.”
“Call me a hoe again and watch me slap you!” I turned to face him fully.
“Bitch, I dare you.” He got in my face, towering over me with a menacing look. You could see it in his eyes that he was crazy.
“Aye, aye, let’s focus on the video.” A guy with a fade and brown skin stepped up, parting Tony and I slowly.
“Yeah, somebody better get this bitch ’fore I knock her muthafuckin neck loose.” Tony backed away. “Hoe.” He spoke through the megaphone, and when I tried to charge him, the brown-skinned guy caught me as Tony cackled at my expense. “You mad, hoe?” He called out through the megaphone again as the guy carried me down the sidewalk some. Everyone around was laughing as well.
“Wait until I see him another time. I’m fucking him up!” I growled.
“I wouldn’t advise it. He’ll really put hands on you if you hit him,” the guy replied to me.
I had no plans on hitting Tony; the nigga looked psycho, but I had to say I would right now to save face. I was furious as hell.
Before I could say anything, I saw Camarih coming from across the street, and it was obvious she was angry by how fast she was walking in them Fendi slides. Barging through the scene, she walked right up to Tony and smashed a jelly-filled donut in the middle of his face. It was like God was blessing me because that action had filled me with such joy.
My stomach then dropped when I watched him grab her by her shoulders. He hemmed her up against the wall, angrily, like he was about to choke her, but then let her go and walked off.
“I thought you said he’ll put hands on a woman if she hit him?” I raised both brows, jerking my neck in Tony and Camarih’s direction.
The guy glanced over at them before focusing back on me and responded, “He will; just not her. I think he likes her ass. He took her out, kissed her in the mouth, and as you can see, he ain’t clock her. Had any other girl over here done that, she’d be laid out.”
I simply sucked my teeth as I watched.
Camarih clearly wanted more fight from Tony, because she chased after him, punching his back repeatedly. In the midst of all this, they kept shooting the video as some of us watched the commotion. Tony turned around to restrain Camarih, forcing her up against the dirty gate nearby, and next thing you know, they were kissing.
Rolling my eyes, I looked away, and so did some of the other girls, but I could tell it was more so out of jealousy.
“Ugh.” I grunted, folding my arms and watching the cars speed up and down the street.
“You good?” the brown-skinned guy asked.
“I guess. I’m happy he got a donut smashed in his rude ass face.”
Chuckling, he replied, “I’m sure. I’m Rahim.” He stuck his hand out to me since I was standing to the left of him. “I produced the track.”
“Really?” I shook his hand. “You did great. I’m Shanece by the way.”
“Pretty name. So you said you work for Scene? What you do?”
“I’m nobody really. I sometimes secure interviews and oversee them as well as some photo-shoots. It pays handsomely though.” I smirked at Rahim. He was a nice-looking guy with beautiful clear skin and short hair. He was up there in height, definitely in the six feet area, but a tad shorter than loose cannon Tony.
“Don’t sound like a nobody to me.”
“I appreciate that. So have you worked with any artists that are mainstream already? Or at least well known from LA?”
“Nah. I’m not from here. I met Tony when he visited Nevada, where I’m from, and we got to talking business. He heard my work, said he wanted me to produce for Eitan, and voilà.”
“Well I think Eitan is gonna make it, which means they’re gonna want his producer, so you will too.” I nudged him with a smile, causing him to stare at me.
“You got a boyfriend, Shanece?”
I loved the way he said my name.
; “I umm… I have a little more than a boyfriend.” I showed my ring. “I’m married.”
Covering his mouth, Rahim replied, “Oh shit, my bad. You super taken.”
We both laughed in unison.
“I am.” I stared back into the street, enjoying Eitan’s song still.
“Is that a good thing? You don’t seem too excited about it.”
“No, it’s a very good thing. I’ve been with my husband since 10th grade, and it’s been great. We’ve never had any major hiccups.”
“Oh, like infidelity?”
“Exactly.”
Rahim raised his brows and nodded like he was commending my husband for being faithful.
“That’s dope. Again, I apologize for doing whatever I was trying to do. I don’t need yo’ husband trying to pull up on me.”
“No don’t be sorry. You didn’t know. And he’s not even that type of guy… anymore.”
“Well he should be because you fine.”
I smirked, feeling bashful as I tossed my fresh passion twists from one side to the other.
“Thank you.” I giggled.
I looked past him and finally saw Camarih and Tony reappear. I didn’t know where they’d gone, but I noticed her hair wasn’t as well put together as it was before. Camarih was drop dead gorgeous though, so she didn’t exactly need her hair to be intact to turn heads.
Although I knew they’d had sex somewhere, not sure of the location, they were walking far from one another, and he stopped in a crowd of about three girls before pulling a blunt from his pocket to light. I chuckled when one of the girls reached for it, and he smacked her hand.
“Hey, are you ready to go?” Camarih approached me, giving Rahim a simple smile in the midst.
“Umm, yeah. I am since I can see you are.” Reaching into my purse, I retrieved my car keys, even though my car was unlocked, and said, “Start the car. I will be there soon.”
“Sure, okay.” Camarih’s eyes bounced between Rahim and I before she went back across the street.
“So maybe I will see you again. I’m sure Eitan will work with Scene one day. If you could maybe talk to him for me or give him my card, that would be great.”
“Yeah, I got you.” Rahim nodded with a smile and took my card. “See you around, Shanece.”
I simpered before checking the street and quickly running across the large intersection to get to my car in the Krispy Kreme parking lot.
“So you like him or something?” Camarih inquired as soon as I got in.
“What? No! I’m married, Camarih.”
“I know, but you seemed to enjoy talking to him.” She shrugged while wearing a closed mouth smile and opening the vent to allow air to blow on her.
“Bitch, while you’re talking about me, you’re the one who just got fucked!” I monitored the traffic so I could pull out of the lot.
“No.”
“Camarih, yes you did. And where did y’all even do it? I know none of these people let you in their house to have sex.”
“The car.” She chuckled. “I don’t know why I did it. I regret it every time we fuck. He just pissed me off trying to diss me, so I had to smash the donut in his face.”
We both burst into laughter.
“You’re crazy as hell for that one.”
“I just hate his stupid ass. He drives me insane.” She frowned deeply.
“How did you go from fighting to kissing and sex, then back to fighting?”
“His mouth.”
“I can see how that would be a problem. He’s disrespectful as hell.” I turned my lip up. I still wanted to fight his ass, but not really. “According to his homie Rahim, Tony likes you.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
I giggled and continued to Camarih’s home, which wasn’t far. Once there, we sat on the porch chatting until a big Ford pick-up truck pulled in.
“You should go.” Camarih stood up, and so did I. Shit, I wasn’t about to ask no damn questions.
I’d had enough altercations for one day, and this next one, I just might have to put the paws on somebody. Only reason Tony got a pass was because I knew that nigga wasn’t in his right mind and would be trying to kill me. Plus, I was five feet seven and slim; I had no business fighting a nigga that was at least six three or six four, with a healthy build. He could literally knock me into next week, and I had shit to do this week in particular.
I watched as some hefty woman in blue Dickies, a big white t-shirt, and some steel toe black boots exited the car. Her hair was cut short, and she was covered in tattoos. She had to be about six feet or just under it. She walked around to let another woman out of the passenger side, who looked just like a brown-skinned version of Camarih.
“Your mom?” I asked as I descended the porch steps.
“Yes.”
I walked past them in a hurry to my car, while waving, and neither of them said ‘hi’ back, just gave me weird looks. Rude asses.
Once in my car, I turned on my chill playlist and then headed home. I had an apartment over in Windsor Hills, so I wasn’t too far away from Camarih. I liked having a friend that I didn’t have to travel so far to see.
As soon as I got inside of my apartment, a loud stench traveled up my nose, almost making me vomit. Looking in the middle of the floor, I saw my husband had thrown up on the carpet.
“Paul!” I called his name but got no answer. “Shit.” I groaned, tossing my purse and jacket onto the couch.
Rushing to the back bedroom, I called Paul’s name again and saw him sleeping in the bed. Taking a moment, I closed my eyes and left back out so I could clean up the mess in the living room. About half an hour later, it was done, and Paul had emerged from the back.
“Hey.” His voice was scratchy.
“Baby, you threw up on the carpet. I told you to stay in your room or bring the bucket with you when you leave.”
“Maybe if you were here taking care of me like you’re supposed to, it wouldn’t have happened.”
“Paul—”
“Where the fuck were you?” His frail face turned up.
I loved Paul and always had, ever since the first day I laid eyes on him in my US History class. He was tall, had sweet caramel skin, curly hair, and a smile that could light up any dark room. He was like a dream come true from the first day I met him and on.
Of course we had arguments and short-lived breakups like any couple, but there were never any infidelities, disrespect, deceit, or anything major. It was always small stuff, like me hating that he was a slow texter and him being annoyed by me always wanting to eat at the same place. We were made for each other, and I remembered the days when I would thank God every night for blessing me by sending me a man that was as good as Paul.
But then… he got diagnosed with cancer when we were twenty-four years old. It was a devastating blow to us both, especially because he was so young. Paul ate healthy, worked out, didn’t smoke or engage in heavy drinking, so neither of us understood how something like this could happen to him. I should’ve known since our relationship was too good to be true, something horrific like this had to happen.
At first it was okay, with him taking things day by day, but now, two years later, he was depressed, angry, very weak, and just not the same man I married five years ago at twenty-one.
I knew it was this God-awful illness that had changed the man I loved, so even though some days I wanted to rip him a new one, I had to look at things through his eyes.
He was a twenty-six-year-old man, living with cancer, when most twenty-six-year-old men were out living their lives. He even had to resign from his job as an online researcher making over $70,000 a year, because he could barely perform due to the pain and nausea.
I hated this disease for him, but I also hated who he’d become because of it. However, I had no right to despise him.
“I went out with a friend.” I stared down at the carpet, making sure all of the puke was gone. I was so stressed out when home. I was more relaxed at wor
k, which was the opposite of how shit was supposed to be.
“What friends, Shanece? You don’t have friends.”
He was right. I had one friend, Ashley, but she moved to Arizona with her man for his work. And because I was so wrapped up in my work and being a nurse to Paul, she and I sadly drifted due to lack of time. I was lonely when it came to friends and even sometimes companionship when Paul acted as if the mere sight of me disgusted him.
“This girl named Camarih. She’s nice. I’ll bring her over for dinner one night. Speaking of, are you hungry?” I started to walk past him to the kitchen, but he stopped me.
“I’m sorry for being angry.” He looked down into my eyes, holding my hands.
“It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to be sorry.”
“Nah, I do—”
“Paul, no.” I reached up to touch his face. “Now go sit down and watch some TV while I make dinner. Okay?” I gave him the brightest smile I could muster up so he wouldn’t feel bad, and he nodded before doing what he was told.
As badly as I wanted to take that apology, I knew I would feel like shit if I did.
Tony Wacko
I’m countin' my bullets, I'm loadin’ my clips… I’m writin' down names, I'm makin' a list…
I took a blunt to the face as “Middle Child” by J. Cole played in the background while one of my hoes Kenya rode my dick. Her pussy was cool; I’d had better, but sometimes her ass was just more convenient.
As she rocked her hips on me, all I could think about was Camarih and how good her shit was. How much confidence her little sexy ass had when she rode my dick because she knew damn fucking well how tight and wet the cat felt.
My mind drifted to our last fuck session in the back of my whip. I’d never busted so hard in my life, and the shit was missionary, which was crazy. Right there in broad daylight, pounding her pretty ass pussy to let that shit know it was mine. And just that quickly, I was wondering who she was fucking with.
“Aye.” I used my remote to turn the music on my stereo down some.
She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest Page 13
