Hood Misfits, Volume 1

by Brick

  From head to toe, dude had on all black. From the black diamonds in his ears to the blacked-out diamond watch on his wrist, the nigga was on some designer dope shit. I wasn’t into labels, but his style was cold. Nigga probably would have every bitch in the place tryin’a hit. He was always smiling and running his hands over his low waves.

  Dude looked like he was a nigga and Latino, so he had an almond-brown complexion with dark eyes that almost matched mine. His jaw was covered in a goatee that ran up into his fade, and he wore black designer glasses that framed his angular face. Nigga looked like he was some NFL player too, so I knew this cat was getting pussy left and right.

  Immediately my jaw clenched in anger as they were leaving. Fuckin’ bitches messing with my gwap. I need to fix this shit pronto.

  Stepping forward, I held up my hands and signaled Janky, one of the house niggas, to bring in some of the product. “Trust me, time is of the essence, but you also know patience can be rewarding.”

  I watched the Latin Kings study me to see if I was bullshitting while I spoke to them in Spanish. I knew any other day this would have worked, but fuck, big bosses had shit to do, money to make, and they didn’t have time to play around.

  The leader said, “I like you, Trigga, so let me school you—When you are about your money, you don’t let your money sit and stall. Do you want business with us?”

  I knew Dame would be pissed if I didn’t try to save this deal anyway I could. “Yes, we invited you in and mean you nothing but respect.”

  “Then answer me one more question. You stand here bullshitting me, my friend, while you have us standing waiting for product we know you don’t have?”

  Inwardly, a nigga was tilting his head to the side. Is he for real? All I could do was stand there with a blank face and not reveal my hand.

  Stepping forward, the leader held his hand up, telling his guards to step back. He dropped his voice as he said to me, “I like you. You’re about your honor, kid. If you survive this game, you come to us, we’ll take care of you. But right now, I’m giving you some drop, because you all have twenty-four hours before you give us our shit, or it’s lights out.”

  I opened my mouth to respond, but he kept talking.

  “Tell me why your nigga behind you is sweating bullets. I tell you why—I think you have a problem with your family, my friend. And it’s a bad look. Especially since the streets are talking about our stash being stolen. We found our boys dead, the ones who were going to exchange with you. Just the fact that we are still invited here lets me know your boss ain’t know shit, but he’s not here to talk business. No good. So step back and shake my hand. Tell your family we are good, and tell your boss you have twenty-four hours to make shit right, or we’re gunning for you.”

  I stepped back and reached for his tattooed almond-colored hand, and he gripped mine as he flipped to English. Smiling, he tucked a Cuban in my jacket.

  That broad is bad luck. First, her people stole from us then the Latin Kings know about that shit and giving us twenty-four hours to give him bodies, or we’re done?

  The night had turned out to be lame as fuck. Like he’d told me, it looked like niggas was playing games in house, clearly since that broad’s pops use to be Dame’s right hand. He knew all the close intel. Something more was going on.

  The leader coolly walked out with his goons.

  I kicked the table over as Drake’s music blared.

  “Ey yo, Trigga, why the fuck they leaving, man?” Janky nervously asked.

  I didn’t have time for that shaken-ass nigga’s questions, so I walked out, heading to Dame to tell him what up. As I walked up the stairs, I realized that I needed to snatch up Janky so he could relay what he watched. Taking the stairs back down, I heard voices in the back of the kitchen.

  “Yo, I’m telling you,” Janky’s voice rushed out. “Them Mexican-ass niggas know it was us. They know, man, and I think they told Trigga, homie.”

  My eyes narrowed as I listened quietly from a shadowed nook of the hallway, my arms crossed.

  “Those fuckas don’t know shit, trust me,” Slammer said. “You know how we handled that shit for Ray and Shanna. They died with our truth, so we good, man. Now chill the fuck out and quit shaking, nigga.”

  As I continued listening, some drunk-ass nigga came thriller-walking into the hallway outta nowhere. OG was leaning to the side, dragging his left foot, ticking and shit, swiping at his nose as he sang to the music and drowned out the rest of what was being said. I almost punched the drunk-ass old head in his throat.

  The niggas were foul. Turned on the family and caused this shit. Immediately, my fingers started twitching. Everything in me was ready to pop those niggas, but since it was my birthday, I thought, Why not do that shit in style?

  Listening in, I quickly moved back to the stairway and hollered for Janky. Nigga came in the blink of an eye, and I almost spat on the fool.

  “Ey, yo, just letting you know, we did good with them Kings. Everything is good, just need to tell Bossman. You good?” I watched that shaky-ass nigga walk on the side of me. I never let a nigga walk behind me. You never knew what a nigga was capable of. Feel me?

  “Damn! For real? That’s chill, man. I need to learn some of that Spanglish or some shit, so I can be better ears.”

  Chuckling low, I just kept walking. Bitches strolled by trying to get our attention, but my focus was on this lame-ass nigga.

  “You know what, homie, since you cool and shit, I got you. I’ll teach you some shit. You know you got to know the streets, all levels of them. Feel me? Otherwise, grimy niggas start taking and playing in ya shit.” I cut my eyes low at him.

  He laughed nervously. “Yeah, bro. You know that shit would be ’ppreciated.”

  “Oh yeah, you know I’m down for my fam. Ey yo, I couldn’t find Slammer. Hit that nigga on his cell and tell him to come here. Bossman is gonna need you both to help handle that new bird.”

  Janky glanced at me for a moment and then hit his cell. Right as we stood outside of Bossman’s door, Slammer walked up nodding, his eyes red as fuck from the many blunts he had hit. In one hand he had a cup of what I knew was some ’yurp, and in the other hand, nigga was smashing a piece of chicken.

  Cutting my eyes at him, I played the game, reaching out to give him dap, as we all walked into Dame’s office. The sound of my brown Tims hitting the mahogany floor filled the room. Nigga one and nigga two started cutting up, laughing, as they shared the blunt that Slammer had tucked behind his ear.

  Dame stood outside on his iron balcony, his hands sprawled out over the railing as he looked down at the front of his massive digs.

  I scanned the decked-out office. I knew he had watched the Latin Kings leave out, and due to the fact that nigga was already pissed over pussy, their leaving was about to turn the rest of my party and the deal sour.

  “You handle that shit, Trigga?” he asked, his back still turned away from us. Nigga knew we were there without ever turning around.

  “No doubt, Bossman, I handled it. Tried to get them to stay for you, but you know how they do?” I calmly responded, moving to sit on the arm of the couch in his office.

  Behind me was some crazy-ass artwork. A lot of it I dug. Some of it was just lame as fuck, like the picture of the dog man fuckin’ some chair made to look like a bitch pussy. Crazy fuckin’ shit, I tell you.

  I casually brushed off my Tims, while Janky and Slammer kept cracking simple-ass jokes about some shit at the party. Bossman was silent as death. I knew he was thinking about all the shit that went down.

  Janky choked out, “And when those bitches fucked up the top level, that shit was crackin’. Bossman put them paws on Sasha. Shit was fuckin’ hilarious.”

  “Yo, yeah, he did. Didn’t you, Dame? How you gonna show that new pussy you boss?” Slammer took a deep drink of his ’yurp.

  I kept quiet just watching. I knew it was some shit you could say around Bossman and other shit you just couldn’t. While they thought they wer
e pumpin’ Dame’s ego, niggas couldn’t even see that they were pissing him off more. I sat back ready to see shit go down.

  “That’s why you two motherfuckas are here. That new pussy you two so into right now is about to learn whose fuckin’ roof this is.” Dame cracked his knuckles as he strolled in, heading to his desk. He picked up the two Cubans I had sat on his desk. Rubbing the cigar between his hands, he looked at me.

  Janky said, “Ey, Bossman, I’m down with whatever. What you need? Need us to stomp that ho?”

  “Yeah, man, we can take care of that bitch in more ways than one. ’Bout time to drag her bitch ass through the house and introduce her to everyone. Right, man?” Slammer laughed, giving Janky dap.

  Through it all, Dame just rested against his desk. Crossing his arms over his white beater, he glanced at the two brothers.

  “Good looking out. Just reminded me of some shit. Yeah, drag that bitch through the house and introduce her to the basement,” Dame stated.

  Adjusting my jacket, I inwardly shook my head. Damn! Li’l shawty fucked up that bad? She was about to get herself into some shit. No one—no female, no nigga—wanted to go to the basement.

  I couldn’t give two shits if I went again. To get my spot, I had to experience that shit myself anyway, so it wasn’t shit for me but a cakewalk to prove my worth. Now li’l shawty was about to experience some shit that her young virginal pussy was never going to probably make it through without breaking. I saw that shit firsthand with Gina. Shawty was something slick, until she was forced down there. Then she came out broken to the point that she sometimes was like a kid still. Fucked-up shit, but that was the streets.

  “Oh shit. Yeah, Dame, man! The basement. Fuck that little trick up just right,” Janky spat.

  Dame took slow puffs off his cigar then reached for his shot of Rémy, an evil grin spread across his face. He gave a jagged laugh. “You know my rules—you don’t fuck with Daddy unless I’m fuckin’ you. Feel me?”

  Everyone laughed except me. I just sat back and listened.

  “You two niggas will take that bitch down below, introduce her to the game, and get her ready for me like I fuckin’ been saying all night. See, loyalty is bond. I don’t fuck with cats that can’t get with that shit, and right now that bitch is about to learn that law,” Dame growled, throwing his glass at the wall.

  Everyone watched it shatter on the floor and then murmured in agreement. Music droned on from the Geto Boys, hitting me with my theme song, while Slammer and Janky spoke with Bossman.

  Janky started talking again, his chest all poked out, flossing his pride. “Yeah, man, loyalty is bond. We got you always, Bossman.”

  This nigga. My fingers began to itch, aching to get the feel of cold steel in my palm as I bobbed my head to the track.

  I tried to play the shit out, to bust them out in front of boss man, but when Slammer’s ol’ greasy-chicken, grinning ass started flapping at the gums, talking about, “Right, and that bitch is gonna learn,” it only pissed me the fuck off more and had a nigga doing like he was at that moment.

  Running a hand over my short locks, I pushed off the arm of the couch, playing like I really was into all the shit they were saying, and then all I heard was, “Trigga, yo! The fuck!”

  Two bullets each from my nine landed in the middle of their skulls, and my knife slashed out to run across their throats. A nigga moved like a panther that got loose in the streets. Fast and quiet. No emotions and no need to get my hands dirty. I was what I was made to be, a killer. All day, every day, taking down niggas like those two made my mental hard.

  Blood hit me like rain. Neither nigga knew what hit them. They’d reached for Glocks too late, gasping for air and staring at death the moment the bullet cut through their brains.

  I looked down at the two big muthafuckas that lay at me feet.

  “You die, muthafucka,” boomed on the speakers down below. The rhythm made their pools of blood vibrate with the song.

  Kicking my Tims into the side of each fallen nigga, I wiped a hand down my face, kneeled down to wipe my blade on their clothes, and moved to sit back on the couch. I dropped my foot on the arm of the couch and wiped my Tims off.

  “I’ll foreva be a trigga-happy nigga,” I crooned with a lethal smirk. I glanced up at my boss with blank eyes. “Yeah, loyalty is bond, Bossman, and them two niggas are foul as fuck.”

  Dame watched me in amusement. He knew it was why he hired me and moved me up in ranks after schooling me so many years. I was good at my shit, and he had no issue with me playing with my kills.

  “Motherfucka, call the cleaners and get your ass off my couch, little nigga. Tell me what you found out.”

  Quickly standing, I walked over to his desk and hit the com, calling for select niggas and bitches he had on his payroll to clean up any mess.

  “Latin Kings gave us twenty-four hours to give them bodies. These niggas right here are the gifts. They played us, Bossman. It was them, Ray, Shanna, and some other nigga, I couldn’t hear his name, who took from home, man.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Dame walked to Janky and Slammer then dropped to one knee to crush his fists into their skulls. Each hit, he cursed, and gripped their heads, slamming them into the floor.

  As he did so, I broke down how I heard it all and why I didn’t get to learn the rest. Bloodshot-red eyes looked up at me in the screwed-up face of a man who was nothing but evil.

  I stood my ground, waiting to hear what he had to say.

  “Party is fuckin’ over! Deliver these muthafuckas to the Kings, get my shit back on line, Trigga. And change out these muthafuckin’ floors. Now my shit is fucked up! Get my office clean! Fuck! Bitches fucked up my goods, now I’m gonna fuck up theirs.”

  This was where I took my pop’s teachings and chilled my spirit. Like, how the fuck this nigga gonna come at me on some bullshit, talking about, clean his shit? Clean his shit? This nigga OCD and shit was kicking in, in this moment? Did he forget I just told him these two pussy-ass bitches turned game on him? Fuck outta here.

  Exhaling, I walked over to where Dame once stood over those niggas, niggas he’d stomped before walking out of his office, kicking over a table.

  Pushing Janky’s smashed face that held the blank stare of death on it, I dropped down to pick the niggas up while the cleaners came in to handle their business. Damn fucked-up birthday. Feel me? And now I wanted some chicken on top of that shit.

  I threw Janky’s heroin-skinny ass over my shoulder and walked to the door, where I saw Gina hovering in the hall, pointing the cleaners to the office.

  This broad really thought I couldn’t catch that she was being nosy. Damn! Why are broads stupid in this house? I mean, she was sexy as fuck, used to think right, but after her trip to the basement, shawty wasn’t all there anymore.

  Brushing past her, I watched her turn her back to me, but not before she saw me tap two fingers against Janky’s leg, showing her the deuces then the middle. That was our sign of knowledge.

  Walking down the stairs, I dropped my voice while she pretended she was pointing people away. I said to her, “Bitches always end up in the ‘underworld.’”

  Ray-Ray

  I jumped up when Gina came rushing into the room. I didn’t know what time it was. I hadn’t seen the outside of the place since I had been tossed in that closet. Gina looked like she had just seen a ghost.

  “You done fucked up, girl,” she said with wide eyes.

  She was looking at me, but at times it was like she was looking past me, like she was staring at a ghost or some shit.

  “What I do?” I asked her. “I been in here the whole time. I ain’t done or said shit to nobody.”

  Finally, she looked at me, genuinely looked in my eyes. “That crazy nigga sending you to the basement.”

  “The basement? Can’t be worse than being locked in a closet.”

  “You gonna wish he locked yo’ ass in the closet. I tried to tell you to calm down, girl.”

  Maybe
I didn’t get what she was saying, but going to the basement meant he was locking me away, so it couldn’t have been any worse than being locked in that fuckin’ closet.

  “It’s just a fuckin’ basement, Gina.”

  “It ain’t just no damn basement. When bitches get sent to the basement, sometimes they don’t come back out that muthafucka.”

  That had my attention. I walked closer to her. The stuff she had tried to hand me before still lay haphazardly on the king-sized bed. The room itself was just as caked-out as the last one I had been in. Only, this room was made to appear like it belonged to some princess. There were even porcelain dolls decoratively sitting about. I had figured it was Gina’s room, since she knew it in and out and because of her, sometimes, kid-like disposition.

  “Whatchu mean?” I asked her.

  Her eyes darted back and forth, and then she brought a closed fist to the side of her head. She started to pace the floor as she mumbled the words, “No, no, no,” over and over again.

  “Don’t go to the basement. You shoulda showered and put them damn clothes on like I told you. You shoulda not have fought with that bitch Sasha. Big-booty Amazon bitch got me sent to the basement. They fuck bitches up bad in the underworld, baby.”

  She said all of that as she walked a hole in the cashmere rug at the foot of her bed.

  “Niggas, lots of niggas, fuck you in the basement, beat you, drug you. They fuck hoes up in the underworld. And Trigga said—”

  There’s that name again. “Trigga said what?” I asked her.

  My hands covered my breasts as I followed her then grabbed her arm to make her stop pacing. All I still had on was my pink cotton panties. I didn’t know who had taken my clothes off or where they had put them. And I didn’t want to put no damn clothes on that man wanted me to.

  “Trigga said bitches always end up in the underworld. That mean Daddy done put word out that you free game. No telling how many niggas gon’ be down there waiting on you. Sasha is just as grimy as these niggas. Bitch stuck a pipe up my pussy ’cuz I ain’t wanna eat hers. Daddy had told her to break me in, but I ain’t wanna eat that bitch rancid cunt. I mean, I’ll sex women, but her pussy looked like dried prunes with stray coconut hair. How that bitch light skin with a burnt pussy?”