by Natavia
Hell, I can stretch this out. I can get someone around the way to steal me and Ranira’s clothes for one-hundred dollars and the rest is just extra money. Maybe I can go to the club later and find me a nigga until Governor comes to his senses.
“Can I buy that wig right there?” I replied.
“The six-hundred-dollar one? Chilleeee, are you sure?” he asked with an attitude.
“Yes, I’m sure!”
He rolled his eyes and smacked his teeth before telling me he’d be with me in a second. After he sat the older lady underneath the dryer, he grabbed the wig out the window.
“Girl, you sure you want this wig? There are no refunds or exchanges,” he said.
“Yes, but I need someone to put it on for me. Is there a fresh one in the back?”
“Nope, this one was made a few weeks ago. It’s marked down because it’s a display. All I need to do is wash it really good for you and blow dry it out so I can I can rod it again. It’ll be six-fifty,” he replied.
“Okay.”
I followed him to the chair, so he could braid my hair down for the wig. My hair had a good texture and all I needed was moose and jam to slick it back. It had been a long time since I wore a good wig thanks to Governor. The process took only two hours. The wig was full and bouncy, and looked so natural.
“Now, you do have to treat this hair delicately,” the guy said, raking the comb through my hair.
“I know that!”
He was beginning to get on my nerves and I didn’t like the way he was talking to me. If only he knew I had a lot of nice things until I hooked up with Dade. I even had a cute Dodge Durango until Dade took it on a high-speed chase. He got away but my truck blew up and I had to report it stolen. With no insurance, I couldn’t do anything but take the loss.
“Oh no, honey. You can lose the attitude! I was trying to look out for you so you wouldn’t buy this damn thing but okay. You can pay me my money though,” he said. I went into my purse and gave him seven-hundred dollars. He went into his apron and handed me fifty dollars. I snatched my change from him and stormed out the piece of shit salon. The only reason I went there is because I heard they had cheap prices. It was going on ten-fifteen when I looked at my cellphone. I called a cab and waited on a bench until they arrived ten minutes later.
Three hours later…
I knocked on the screen door of a green run-down house. Chelsie opened the door holding my daughter in her arms. I stepped into the house and five big dogs ran up to me.
“Ewwwww, get them!” I screamed.
Chelsie yelled at the dogs and told them to get back. We’d been friends for two years. She lived in my old neighborhood and we always talked. But she ended up moving out because she couldn’t afford her rent. The guy she was seeing cut her off financially when she refused to get an abortion with her son.
“Girl, I can’t stay here anymore. Dijon is allergic to these dogs and can barely breathe,” she complained. Chelsie thought it was cute naming her son after mustard because of his complexion.
“Listen, Dijon’s father is startin’ to pay child support. He will be giving me nine-hundred dollars a month. Can I stay with you until I get on my feet? I promise I’ll help with the bills,” she begged. It was her fourth time asking me but I couldn’t blame her. Her parents’ house was a dump because her father was a drunk mechanic and there were cars everywhere in the yard that he couldn’t fix. All he did was drink and her mother worked at a nursing home but barely came home.
Maybe she can live with me since I’ll be workin’ now. That way I won’t have to pay for a babysitter. Chelsie watches Ranira for free so it won’t be a big deal havin’ her live with me.
“Okay, but I got the job. So, I’ll need you to watch Ranira for me while I work and all you have to do is buy yourself and Dijon some groceries,” I replied.
“Oh, thank God! I’m leavin’ now. I gotta get out of this funky-ass house,” she complained. The house smelled very badly, worse than Dade’s ass after sweating all day and not showering. She handed me Ranira and told me to wait while she grabbed a few things but would come back later for the rest. I went into the living room and Dijon was sitting in his play pen playing with blocks. He was a beautiful baby with curly brown hair and big pretty hazel eyes. Chelsie was a white girl and her son’s father is black. Dijon had more of his mother’s features. The door opened then slammed. Chelsie’s father came into the living room and he reeked of alcohol and sweat. His supposed to be white T-shirt was yellow and his jeans had oil stains on them. He sat in a love seat and passed out with a beer in his hand. I yelled for her to hurry up because the smell of their house burned my nose. Moments later, she came into the living room with two suitcases.
“I’m ready,” she said.
I grabbed Ranira’s diaper bag by the TV stand and Chelsie picked up her son out of the play pen. The great thing about Chelsie staying with me was that she had a car. It wasn’t a great car, but it could get us from A to B. Everything was finally working in my favor. I had a job, a roommate who had income and a car. Dade could stay gone for all it mattered.
Governor
“I s this everything?” Essa asked, looking through the stack of papers. She’d been in my office for three hours so far going over a few things. I like a woman who was about her word. I told her to be ready by nine o’clock but she was standing in front of the building at quarter to nine dressed for work.
“Yeah, that’s everything. We don’t need to do background checks and shit like that. This is just so I can pay you and you can use this as proof of income,” I replied.
“Thank you so much. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“That’s what you got me for,” I replied, and she blushed.
The door opened and my brother stepped into the office wearing our company collared shirt. My brother was four years younger than me and he was heavy in the streets. I promised to help him out, but after a year, I planned on being out for good. He didn’t trust too many niggas and neither did I, so we stuck together. Not only was he my brother but he was my right-hand man. Most people thought we were twins, but Mayor had a small scar under his left eye and chin from a fight he got into in jail. I told him that the only way I’d help him expand his clientele was if he turned legit with me. At the end of the day, I didn’t want him to be a drug dealer forever, but the nigga was addicted to the lifestyle.
“What’s up, bruh?” he asked and slapped hands with me.
“Shit, chillin’. What’s good witchu? Had a long night last night?”
“Did I? Bruh, we gotta talk about this later. I had to pull a nigga up,” he said. Mayor was letting me know he had to check a nigga about his bread.
“Okay, bet. But I want you to meet our new secretary, Essa. She’s startin’ today after we fill these papers out.” Mayor held his hand out for Essa and they shook hands.
“Nice to meet you, Essa. Look, I gotta take care of sumthin really quick. I’m goin’ to be in the back,” Mayor said.
He disappeared into the back of the office to the storage room. My phone rang inside my pocket and it was Rochelle calling me. I sent her to voicemail. I didn’t have any rap for shorty. That bitch thought I didn’t know about her and Nucci looking cozy at a party. Every nigga in the city reported to me, whether it was about my money or my bitch.
“So, do I call you and your brother by your street names while I’m at work, or do you two have real names?” Essa asked when she looked up from the small stack of papers. I was sitting across from her at my desk and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her cleavage. Shit, a nigga didn’t mean to stare but shorty had a nice rack. Matter of fact, she had a few: hips, ass, thighs and sexy lips.
“Can you keep a secret, shorty?”
“Of course,” she smiled.
“Those are our government names. My father’s nickname was President, so my mother thought it was a cool thing to do. This stays between us, though.”
“Okay. I actually think it’s cute,” she
smiled.
Damn, I bet her lips would look good wrapped around my dick with her pretty ass.
“Cute? Come on, shorty. Don’t do me and my brother like that. That shit tormented us throughout the years so we told everybody it was our nicknames.”
“I have to admit, I didn’t think you were a sweetheart when I first saw you. Your face is always in a scowl and people disappear when they see you pull up in the neighborhood. What is that about?” Essa asked.
I leaned back in my chair and scratched my chin. Shorty was beautiful and all that, but she was getting too comfortable with asking a lot of questions.
“That ain’t about nothin’. Look, I’m ready dip out for a few; I’ll be back with lunch after I run a few estimates. Nobody is allowed in the storage room but me and Mayor. Niggas be stealin’ paint and shit. There is a code on the door and cameras, too, so I’ll know if someone is tryin’ to go into my shit.”
“Got it,” she said.
“If anybody calls for me, tell them to hit me up. If it’s a costumer, they have my business number.” Essa nodded her head and I grabbed a work shirt from out of the box.
“Moving forward, all you need is pants and this shirt. No need to dress fancy when there are a lot of muthafuckas comin’ through here with dirty clothes and shoes. You’ll see how messy it gets in here.”
“Okay,” she said.
Something about women struggling bothered me and I think it came from watching my mother struggle with me and Mayor over the years. Our father is serving a life sentence based on forty charges. The nigga had a lot going on from selling bricks to human trafficking. I don’t remember much about him because I was four when he got jammed up. Long story short, he left my mother nothing while she was pregnant with Mayor. She lived in a big house, drove expensive cars and wore fur coats that cost thousands of dollars. She had to give it all away. She also didn’t have an education; my father made her drop out of school in the tenth grade when they first met. Not knowing any better and being in love, she let that nigga do whatever he wanted, including getting married to someone else. His wife left the U.S. with millions of dollars and never looked back. So, knowing the struggles women went through angered me. I wanted to give them everything I had but some didn’t deserve help because they didn’t want it, like Rochelle.
“I’ll be right back,” I told Essa.
I walked away from her desk and headed back to the room where Mayor was at. The keypad scanned my hand before the heavy door opened. The security system cost a grip and the vaults were heavier than the ones at the bank, so I wasn’t worried about anybody coming in, I just didn’t want anyone snooping near the storage room area. The door opened, and I stepped into our warehouse. We had a weed garden house in the far-left corner, a lab of prescription pills and gallons of paint cans filled with pure cocaine on the shelves. Mayor was in the center of the room counting a duffel bag full of money.
“Nigga, what the fuck is you doin’?” he asked when I slid a stack away from the pile.
“What in the fuck does it look like? And when are you movin’ this shit out of our place of work? You said it’d be gone in two months, nigga, it’s been four! This shit is hot, plus Essa doesn’t know she’s sittin’ in a building with millions of dollas worth of drugs and weapons!”
“Who told you to hire the bitch in the first place? What happened with Rochelle? At least we didn’t have to sneak around that hoe because she knows what we do. This going legit bullshit is whack, bruh. This is supposed to be a coverup, not a real business! Damn it, Gov. Get your head back into the streets!” Mayor spat. I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and slammed him into the paint shelf.
“Muthafucka, I’ll slit your fuckin’ throat and bury you right next to our grandmother. Watch your mouth when talkin’ to me cause I’m not those lil’ niggas on the street that work for you! Nigga, I helped you get here, and I can take this shit away without a doubt. This is my place of business and I want this shit out!”
“Aight, bruh. Let me go! You about to wrinkle my shirt,” Mayor said and I pulled away from him.
“Yo, why you always gotta be an aggressive muthafucka?” he asked, fixing his shirt.
“Watch yah mouth when talkin’ to me, nigga. You think I’m soft now? I’ll knock yah lil’ bitch-ass out and you better not tell Mama I said this shit neither.”
“Yeah aight. What’s up with Essa anyway? Where did you find her? Yo, you can’t save every damsel in distress. You did that with Rochelle and shorty turned out to be a whiny gold-diggin’ broad. These hoes ain’t loyal and don’t appreciate shit. I’m just lookin’ out for you, bruh,” he said.
“You trippin and readin’ too much into it.”
“Be honest, you want fuck her, don’t you?” Mayor smirked.
“Naw, that’s not professional. Besides, she’s my tenant, too.”
“Keep on, these broads gonna get the wrong message from you helpin’ them. You know how women think, bruh. They are gonna start asking for marriage, babies and child support for kids that don’t even belong to you. That’s why these bitches be goin’ crazy over you. You be takin’ care of broads you don’t even be fuckin’. See, my bitch need a car and guess what? She ain’t gettin’ it. Why? Cause it’s gonna make her want to do it on her own. You spoilin’ these bitches and they don’t want to work,” Mayor complained.
“And your bitch is gonna be suckin’ another nigga’s dick soon. Don’t cry to me, bruh. And who is this shorty again? You real secretive when it comes to that. You ain’t fuckin’ a man, is you?”
“Her name is Abreesha. I told you that, but anyways. I’m ready to package this shit up and send it to New York. Go back out there business man while I work in my real office,” Mayor said. I grabbed the stack of money off the table and walked out the storage room. Essa was sitting at the desk messing around with the computer. Mayor was right about one thing, I had to stop trying to help every female out. That shit was making me a soft nigga. On my way out the door, I dropped the money down on the desk next to Essa’s purse.
“Consider it first week’s pay. I’ll holla at you lata.”
I didn’t stick around long enough for her to thank me because I headed straight for the door. I had to chill out when it came to having a soft spot for women because they were falling in love and couldn’t accept me helping them out for what it was. Soon as I got inside my whip, my phone beeped. It was a message from an unknown number. It was a one of those fake numbers through an app. I opened the message and it was a woman posing naked, but I couldn’t see her face, just her ass, pussy and titties.
“Bruh, these hoes wildin’.”
Another picture came in and she had a dildo in her pussy.
I don’t know who you are but damn that shit look juicy. I haven’t fucked this one before. That pussy wouldn’t be easy to forget, damn. And her nipples pierced.
The last picture came through and it was a small video of the woman rubbing her pussy while squirting. I sent a text asking who she was, and she told me I know her and always see her. A nigga wasn’t into mind games, so I added the fake number to the block list.
This broad got my dick harder than McDonald’s nuggets and she’s tryin’ to play games with me.
When I pulled out the parking lot, Rochelle called me again but that time I answered.
“Yo, what do you keep callin’ me for?”
“I heard you picked Essa up this morning! What’s up with that?” Rochelle spat into the phone.
“None of yah fuckin’ business. It wasn’t personal but what you doin’ now? I’m ready to slide through.”
“For what? Nigga, you haven’t been talkin’ to me!” she whined into the phone. All I wanted from her was the pussy. She had been throwing it at me for a while so I wasn’t wrong for biting the bait.
“Yoo, Chelle. I’m tryna get my dick wet, shorty. Less talkin’ and more fuckin. Whateva you got to say can wait, can’t it? It’s not that deep.”
“Aight, fine. I’m ready
to hop in the shower,” she said and hung up. I tossed my phone in the passenger’s seat and headed to building 1077. Rochelle only acted up when she wanted the dick. I mean, what else did she need a nigga for? She wasn’t wifey material and didn’t support none of the positive shit I wanted to do unless she benefited from it. So, the way I saw it, we used each other. It was a fair trade, no robberies.
**********
The neighborhood was crowded as usual when I pulled up in front the building. Sinna and a white girl I saw around the way a few times were sitting on the steps holding their babies. Sinna was wearing a half-top and small-ass shorts. Shorty was bad, and she had a nice body on her with a cute face. What I couldn’t get with was how she kept her apartment. My mother told me years ago a woman’s home reflected her. What I interpret of Sinna’s home was that she was a triflin’ ass shorty and the fact she let Dade put a baby in her gave her a negative in my book. I got out the whip and Sinna’s eyes landed right at my dick print. She wanted me to fuck her so bad, but my dick could never get hard for her.
