© 2019
Published by In Reverie Publications
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Unauthorized reproduction, in any manner, is prohibited.
Contents
Camarih
1. Camarih Marlon
Houston “Tony Wacko” Terranova
Camarih
Tony Wacko
2. Camarih
Tony Wacko
Camarih
Tony Wacko
3. Camarih
Tony Wacko
Camarih
Joy Brixton
4. Tony Wacko
Camarih
Shanece Porter
Tony Wacko
5. Camarih
Tony Wacko
Camarih
Rahim Cambridge
6. Tony Wacko
Camarih
Shanece
Tony Wacko
7. Camarih
Rubie Bailey
Rahim
Tony Wacko
8. Eitan Wright
Shanece
Camarih
Rubie
9. Rahim
Tony Wacko
Eitan
Shanece
10. Camarih
Rubie
Tony Wacko
Coming Soon!
Camarih
The beginning of the end of my happiness…
“I hope yo’ ass is full now.” My boyfriend Driz glanced over at me, smirking. His deep skin seemed to glisten, even though it was nighttime and not much light present.
“I am, baby. Thank you.” I leaned back in my seat, rubbing my full stomach. I was in bliss now that I’d been stuffed with the best tacos in Watts.
“Anything for you.”
I said nothing in response to Driz; I only smiled. What he said was true. He would do anything for me, and he was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
Take tonight for instance. I called him at 8 p.m., saying how badly I wanted some tacos, and he made his way right over here to take me. It was the little things like that that made me love him.
From the outside looking in, you would never know how well he treated me, because Driz wasn’t the softest nigga. He sold drugs, and like every typical LA nigga that wasn’t a square, he, too, was a gangbanger. He kept me away from it all, I mean, as much as he could because I did live in the Nickerson Gardens projects, which was infested with gang violence, the Bounty Hunter Bloods in particular. Even then though, Driz made sure I didn’t kick it with or be around them too much. I was a precious diamond to him that he wanted to protect and didn’t need these niggas breathing on; at least that was how he put it.
A lot of bitches in the neighborhood fawned over Driz, but he’d always been about his money. We met outside of a liquor store one day when I was fighting, because some girl assumed I was a punk due to me being naturally to myself. I always did my own thing, never liking the idea of being around large crowds to seem cool. However, a lot of my life, people took that as me being stuck up or quiet and soft.
Anyway, I remembered Driz pulling me off of her, and ever since then, we’d been attached at the hip. He said he liked how I got down, and at the time, those were the sweetest words my teenaged ears had ever heard.
“I wish I didn’t have to go inside, or I wish you could come with me.” I turned to look at Driz, just as he pulled up in front of my father’s spot, hitting the locks. I gripped his wrist to stop him, letting him know to wait a second.
I didn’t mind my daddy; he was just annoying at times. He wasn’t necessarily overbearing, but he wasn’t like those fathers you saw on those ABC TV shows in the nineties. He treated me like a roommate, and anytime he had to provide for me outside of allowing me to live here, he threw a fit. Granted, I was grown, at twenty-one years old, but I was broke as hell, even though I had a job working at a chicken shack in the neighborhood.
“I know. I told yo’ ass you need to come live with me.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want to jump from man to man as far as my living situation. When I move out, I want it to be mine.”
It was silent before Driz swiped his finger under my chin, prompting me to look his way. He was so sexy, with the deepest waves in his hair. And he stayed fresh as fuck, wearing a few expensive brands here and there, but nothing too much. He bought me nice things too, but because of where I lived, I rarely wore any of it. The Louis Vuitton and Chanel that I did have, collected dust under my bed.
“That’s what I like about you, Ari. You got a hustler’s mentality.”
I simpered at his words before leaning over to kiss him. Things quickly got hot and heavy, and before I knew it, I was in his lap, straddling him. Driz attacked my neck with his mouth, while massaging my ass, as I tried my best to quickly unbuckle his jeans.
“Ah!” I screamed when someone opened the driver’s side door and yanked me out.
“Aye, what the fuck!” Driz hollered as I kicked my feet and flailed my arms, trying to loosen my body from this strong man’s grip.
As I screamed and went crazy, I watched the other man remove a gun from his waist as he stared Driz down.
“No! No! Please!” I screamed so loudly that my ears rang. My heart began to palpitate as I continued to shout the same thing over and over. “Please! I will give you guys whatever you want!”
POP! POP!
I watched as Driz’s head split open, and blood splattered everywhere. The gunman ran off, and the nigga holding me dropped me in the middle of the street like I was nothing. I couldn’t get up fast enough.
I ran to Driz and could barely see his face because of all the blood. I knew he was dead, but that didn’t stop me from yelling his name and trying to make him hold his head up.
“What the hell is going on out here?” My father finally emerged, but I paid him no mind as I begged the love of my life to wake up. “Camarih!”
“Baby, please.” I sobbed hysterically, not caring that blood was covering my hands, my clothes, and the tips of my hair.
“Girl, what is… my Lord.” My father had finally come around to the side of the car where I was. “Got damnit. Swear to God I’m tired of this shit…” He rambled as he stormed back into the house where I heard him loudly calling the police.
Still, I was crying, thumbing Driz’s bloody cheeks as I held him. If only I’d gripped him tightly before being snatched out of the car, then maybe I’d be dead with him. That sounded much better than being alive at the moment.
Even though I knew it’d been a little minute, it seemed like the police were here quickly, yanking me away from Driz’s limp body. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as they dragged me away from the scene while I screamed and cried like a banshee. All of our neighbors were outside watching, as if this was for entertainment, not even seeming to care that my heart had been shattered.
“Let me go!” I hollered just as one of the officers placed me in front of my dad’s open front door.
“I got her, officers,” my father said to them, forcefully pulling me into the house and shutting the doors.
“Let me go back out and—”
“And do what, Camarih? Huh? CPR? The boy’s head isn’t even intact. He’s gone!”
“Stop saying it like that!” I could barely make out my dad’s face because my eyes were clouded with tears.
“Saying it like what? I’m speaking facts. The little nigga is gone, and you need to quit acting all hyst
erical and shit! It’s late, and I’m tired.”
“You’re so insensitive.”
“What did I tell you when I first found out you were messing around with his hood ass? I told you, niggas like that either end up dead or in jail—hell, or both. But nah, nah you ain’t wanna listen, so save them muthafuckin tears for someone else.”
Plopping down onto the couch, I cried, dropping my face into my bloody hands as my body jerked violently. Now that Driz was gone, I literally had no one. Yes, I had a best friend, Isis, but no one held it down for me like him. He was my everything, and now I felt alone.
“You’re so mean.” I sobbed, feeling my dad’s presence still standing over me.
“Look.” He sighed. “Camarih, I think it’s time you go back and live with ya mama—”
“No—”
“Yeah. I can’t with this situation anymore. It’s either you go live with her or you sleep out on those streets, but you can’t stay here. You’re causing me too much trouble.” Shoving his hands into his robe pockets, he added, “Plus, you’re grown now.”
“Daddy, please, no! You know I don’t like it over there. I can’t.” I shot up from the couch.
“I told you ya options.” He turned to leave the living room, but I wasn’t done. No way I could live with my mother, if you could call her that. My father was miles better, and that wasn’t saying a lot.
“No. Let’s just talk about this. I can get another job—Daddy!”
WHAM!
When I grabbed his shoulder to halt his steps, my face was met with the back of his hand. Falling back onto the couch, I cupped my bleeding nose and just stared up at him, his nostrils flaring and his shoulders slightly rising and falling.
“You just make sure you’re gone in two days,” was the last thing he said before leaving the living area.
If there was a reason for me to stay on this Earth, I was hoping God revealed it soon, because as of right now, my life was worthless.
1
Camarih Marlon
“Everything looks okay now, Miss Marlon. Did you have any questions for me?” My doctor cocked her head, smiling sympathetically.
“So I can have a baby still?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I told you, you must not stress while pregnant, no matter what stage, or you can lose it.”
“It wasn’t stress.” I shook my head, chuckling and lying. When wasn’t I stressed, depressed, or unhappy?
“Right.” She stared me down. “Well, like I said, your body is very healthy, so you can have children if you choose to get pregnant again. Just be sure you take heed to my warnings. Sometimes we’re stressed and don’t know it.”
“Of course. Thank you.” I hopped down because she was still eyeing me awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I have to go. My boyfriend is waiting outside in the car for me.” I snatched my purse.
“The father?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t like hospitals and doctor’s offices. But thank you, Dr. Edwards.” I quickly dipped out of the room, exhaling heavily as if I’d been holding my breath the whole time.
“Miss Marlon!”
I rushed out of the building as quickly as I could because I didn’t want to hear my boyfriend, Prince’s, mouth for making him wait. I still felt weak from all the trauma my body had endured after miscarrying at four months. I thought I was in the clear since it was my second trimester, but I guess not.
“Got damn. Almost left yo’ ass.” Prince shook his head in an irritated manner as I slid into the passenger side of his Porsche truck.
Prince was my boyfriend of three years. I met him a year after I’d moved in with my mama over in Leimert Park. At first, although he was attractive, I wasn’t interested, because I was still mourning Driz, despite him having been dead a year.
However, Prince was persistent with his efforts and supplemented those efforts by promising me he’d treat me like gold. I admit, at times, I did feel lonely, although I’d told myself I was gonna be single for the rest of my life, so I agreed to go out with him once. We had such a good time that from that day forward, we kept in consistent contact.
Things had been great with Prince for the first year, or should I say before he got a record deal. He had a beautiful singing voice, and I remembered laying up on the phone with him in secrecy while he crooned my favorite love songs to me. He was humble then.
But after signing with his label, Grind Hard, he turned into a completely different person. Now he was a rich asshole that believed the world should bow down to him. I was miserable to say the least, but Prince let me know on multiple occasions that if I left him, he would have me killed. I didn’t believe his ass, so I attempted, and sure enough, some man held me at gunpoint in an alley and made me promise I’d go back to Prince.
I knew he slept with groupies and did whatever he wanted, but I was over stressing about him and his antics at this point. And now, after losing another baby, I was adamant about finding a way to leave him. For now, I would focus on my life goals until the opportunity presented itself.
“I’m hungry. Can we stop at Hong Kong’s off Western?” I rubbed my stomach.
“Off King? Hell nah. Not while I’m driving my fucking Porsche.”
To be from here, Prince sure was always acting like he was afraid to do the simplest things. He never wanted to be anywhere for too long because he claimed someone would steal his car or break into it. That was a far cry from his celebrity persona; a man who claimed to be about that life and wishing a nigga would every second of the day. Come to think of it, I didn’t know much about Prince’s background. He told me his parents were dead, due to gun violence, and that he was an only child.
“Fine. Just take me home, and I will get there myself.” I shook my head.
“How? In that little broke down ass bucket you drive?”
“Yep.”
There was silence before he said, “Oh, so you angry now?”
“No, Phillip. Just take me home, or you can drop me off at the spot, and I’ll eat there or something.”
Nothing was said, but I saw he was heading toward the Chinese food place. I was starving and definitely didn’t feel like dealing with my old ass Toyota or having to call Isis for a ride. I knew she would come, but I didn’t want to hear her mouth about how horrible of a man Prince was and how I was crazy for not dropping him. I knew all of that already.
We finally got to the shopping center that contained the Chinese food place, and since it was only two o’clock in the afternoon, the crowds of people were thick. It was live, but nothing out of the ordinary.
Suspicious ass Prince got out of the car, scoping the scene, and making eye contact with niggas I guess he felt were suspicious.
“Let’s hurry the fuck up.” He nodded toward the door of Hong Kong, so I entered with him trailing me.
There were a few people in line, so while I waited, I just studied the food to see what I wanted to get.
“Aye, aye, what’s up, my nigga!” I heard a man call out, and a bunch of other people clamoring about.
Both Prince and I glanced back to see a very tall and very fine man entering. He was eating a donut from the place next door, with one hand, and dapping up the people who’d greeted him with the other. His skin was a deep caramel, he had nicely trimmed facial hair, brown eyes that his lids sat low over, letting me know he was high, and he was covered in tattoos. Nigga even had two on each sides of his face near his temples, but they were rather small, so not interfering with his handsome looks at all.
He had to be standing at about six feet three at the least, and nicely built with not too much muscle and definitely not skinny. He was dressed simple in dark jeans, black Vans, a white t-shirt, and a black flannel that he wore open. He had on a little jewelry, but nothing flashy like Prince. On top of his head was short black hair, tapered on the sides and kinky on the top. It looked like he took care of it. He was just… amazing.
“Hello, ma’am!” The Asian man called me, pulling my attention from that fine ass
hood nigga.
“Oh, sorry.”
“You know him or some shit?” Prince inquired, I guess catching onto the fact that I was staring the brother down.
“No,” I replied quietly before starting to point to what I wanted.
Just as the scent of some nice but prevalent cologne hit me, a sexy, raspy voice called out, “Ass is fat, baby girl.”
He couldn’t have been talking to me, especially not when Prince was right here. But he definitely was because when I looked over my shoulder, he was staring down right into my eyes as he shoved the last piece of donut into his heavenly mouth.
“Umm—”
“Pretty face too.” He licked his lips then let his eyes run down the rest of my frame.
“Tony, really?” a small voice spat, and for the first time since I’d seen him, I noticed a girl was with him. She was pretty; very light skinned, pale almost, deep black hair that was slicked back into a bun, and a nice small frame.
The man who I learned was Tony ignored her.
“You ain’t gon’ say shit? I just complimented yo’ muthafuckin ass.” He barked, eyebrows dipping in between his eyes.
“Uh, umm, sorry. I mean, thank you.” I fumbled.
“Aye, nigga, this my girl. Don’t be—”
“Bruh, you better shut the fuck up ’fore I slide yo’ ass. You don’t know who the fuck you talking to.” He immediately cut Prince off. He was super calm when he said it, which I’d learned was a trademark for crazy niggas.
She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 4 Page 1
