Hersband Material

by C. Wash

  Mystro was in a bind. She wanted desperately to move into her own apartment. She was grateful to Native and her mother for looking out for her, when her father got sick and she had nowhere to go; but it was time to grow up and get her own place. Quitting her job, at this point, would set her back in accomplishing that goal. She really had to consider her decision before making any moves, especially in haste. Although Mystro was beyond burnt up, she refused to let her anger take center stage, when she walked past Chocolate.

  As she rounded the corner, debating in her mind whether or not to ask her to work, she locked eyes with her. Her overbearing ass-coworker matched her stare, as she outlined her lips from top to bottom with her index finger and thumb of her right hand.

  “You sure you don’t wanna be my date to the concert? My plans this weekend can change, if you give me a reason.” She ran her tongue over her lips.

  Fuck this shit. She thought.

  In that moment, Mystro knew two things. One was that Chocolate sucked Mr. Kadam off for a work free weekend, and two, both them motherfuckas would be there playing with each others parts, when Mystro didn’t show up tomorrow.

  The only thing was now, she was gonna have to find yet another job.

  ***Two Hours Later***

  “Sit still, My,” Breezy said, “your hair gonna be crooked if you keep squirming.”

  “Man, you know my ass falling asleep. I will never understand why I gotta always sit on this hard ass wooden floor under you, just to get tightened up. Why can’t you use the stylist chair? That’s what its sposed to be for,” Mystro inquired as she adjusted her position.

  Mystro cashed her check, and was now at her friend Breezy’s apartment getting her hair braided. It was the weekend of gay pride in Washington D.C., which meant hanging out in the city day and night. Mystro had to be fresh, starting with her hair. Mystro was a neat freak, who took pride in her appearance. This meant she had to get her hair braided every two weeks, but for this weekend’s special events, she had to be extra sharp.

  “You know I can grip it better when you sit on the floor,” Breezy explained. “Besides, I know you like sliding between these thighs, so stop faking.”

  “I do huh?” Mystro flirted.

  “Mmm hmm…So I just gotta give you what you want. And why you getting all extra dapper anyway? I just did your rows five days ago. They wasn’t even that fuzzy.”

  “I don’t know if you know or not, but PRIDE this weekend. I can’t be nowhere in these streets looking the fuck terrible,” Mystro explained.

  “PRIDE? I never pegged you as a parade marcher. Why are you burdening yourself with all them queens and dykes?” Breezy asked, with a jealous undertone.

  “Slim, ain’t nobody ‘bout to be marching in no damn parade. Truthfully, I’d rather be kicking it in a hotel with my shawty, than going out to fuck with the faggies and shit. But Native wanna hang and you know we a team, so we roll twolo,” Mystro advised.

  “That’s a mess. You need to tell her you ain’t trying to go. Although, you might as well cuz it ain’t like you got no shawty to kick it with no more, right?” Breezy asked nosily.

  Mystro paused before she answered her question and sighed. “Naw, not no more,” she sad sadly.

  “Oh, well that’s good. Bitches is scandalous in these streets. You already ahead by being by yourself as far as I’m concerned,” Breezy said noticing her friends mode change.

  Mystro sat in silence. Thoughts of Leslie danced through her mind and brought with them pain and hurt. She would give anything to talk to her again, to find out where she went wrong.

  She tilted her head to the left, to allow Breezy to finish her last braid.

  When she was done, Breezy exhaled. “That’s it, babes. Run me my ends, suga,” Breezy demanded jokingly.

  “Oh you know I don’t even move like that. I got you,” Mystro said breaking out of her thoughts. She peeled off a twenty-dollar bill from her stack, followed by a ten-dollar bill for Breezy’s tip. She handed both bills to her.

  Mystro stretched her five foot nine inch frame completely, by standing up with outstretched arms into the air. She was relieved her ass no longer had to date the hardwood floor. She slowly walked over to the mirror that rested on the dresser to peep her braids. Mystro’s honey brown complexion peered back at her, as she studied her hair. She brushed the back of her grey Levis jeans off, before giving verbal approval of Breezy’s work.

  “You did me right, thanks, B. Now, I gotta go get up with my nigga to go shopping. You need anything before I dip though?” Mystro asked.

  “No, boy…I mean girl, I’m good. You so sweet for asking though,” Breezy informed, staring up into Mystro’s hazel eyes.

  This was not the first time Mystro had been called a boy. Although she is a woman, and never had any desires on being a man, because she dressed in a masculine fashion, people made the mistake frequently. But it didn’t bother her. She thought it was funny.

  “Aight, so I’ll see you soon. Thanks again,” Mystro said as she bent down and gripped Breezy in a tight embrace, lifting her five-five frame off the floor. Mystro slid Breezy a kiss on her cheek, and placed her back down before walking out of the apartment door.

  As Mystro pressed down the hallway of the apartment building, her mind drifted back to Breezy. She thought Breezy was smart, sexy and had a brain. She said Breezy had what she called, The Full Court Press. Which meant full luscious lips, full round titties, full fat ass, and a full set of white teeth. She thought she could be wifey material, and would love nothing more than to date her. But there were two problems. One, Mystro could become very obsessed when it came to the women she dated. She had huge plans of finding a woman to marry and have kids with to complete her family. And she would do anything in her power to make that happen. But, ever since she had papers put out on her for being a stalker, she had to try and control her impulsive behavior when it came to women.

  Two, Breezy wasn’t even gay. She was on niggas, although most of them never stayed around long. She always seemed to find something wrong with them, before letting them go.

  Mystro made it outside to her older model black Nissan Maxima, and hit the un-lock button on her viper remote. She accidently dropped her keys. She bent down to retrieve them, when out of the corner of her right eye, she saw a set of grey New Balance tennis shoes quickly approaching her. By the time she stood up to get in her car, Mr. New Balance was on her back, with his glock poking her spine.

  “Look, this can be quick and easy, or quick and final for you. I don’t want your life or your ride, but I will take your paper,” he whispered into Mystro’s ear. He was so close she felt his dick on her butt. She felt violated in more ways than one. “How you want it, young?”

  “Man…Fuck. Aight, cuz, don’t do no bamma shit,” Mystro said calmly as she slowly raised her hands in the air to show she was not a threat. “It’s in my front right pocket, ” She informed. “I’ma get it for you.”

  “Hurry up, shawty. I ain’t trying to slump you out here but I will,” he continued.

  Mystro was a ball of emotions. She was nervous and fearful, but at the same time she was calm and angry. She wasn’t just mad she was being robbed, she was mad at herself for parking in the bad neighborhood in an alley.

  With no other choice, she reached into her pocket and retrieved her remaining cash. She raised the wad of cash up, and leaned it back into the jacker’s direction reluctantly.

  He snatched the money and said, “Thanks, Shawty Be Bop. Don’t look so sad, you get to live,” he laughed as he ran out of Mystro’s life just as fast as he entered it.

  Mystro stood there defeated, depressed and $685 lighter. But she looked good though.

  *** 30 Minutes Later***

  Mystro pulled onto her street and began to parallel park her car. Once parked, she approached the steps leading to her house where she saw Native and Baby Dom on the porch talking.

  Not noticing the glum look on Mystro’s face, Native pulled her into the
ir conversation. “Son, this lil nigga still trying to cop a plea ‘bout snatching them bogus ass Timbo’s off slim’s stand last month. She don’t understand that she can’t go around taking shit from people she know, playing or not. We almost got shot fucking with her. Had you not given that nigga a bill to shut his ass up, he woulda blasted on us. ‘Specially you, Baby Dom,” Native schooled.

  “I know, I know, Fam. It won’t happen again, either. That shit jive spooked me,” Baby Dom admitted.

  “We’ll see,” Native replied, “You ready to hit the mall, Mystro?”

  “Slim, I got jacked leaving Breezy spot. The nigga got me for my whole paycheck. I can’t go get shit with no money,” Mystro explained sadly.

  “Oh fuck no, Fam. Let’s tool up and ride back through there,” Baby Dom said extra hype.

  “Tool up? Get your baby nut ass off this porch with that shit,” Mystro shot back, “Ain’t nobody riding through no gang neighborhood to get back no money. I ain’t even see the nigga’s face that got me anyway.”

  “Yeah, beat it, Baby Dom, I gotta rap to my nigga.” Native directed.

  Baby Dom jumped up, and sadly walked off the porch and up the street.

  As if things couldn’t get any worse, Margaret, Native’s mother, opened the screen door and yelled, “Do ya’ll got my damn rent money?” The pink muumuu she wore stank of mothballs and White Diamonds perfume.

  “Mommy, come on man,” Native said looking around the sunny neighborhood, “go back in the house with that shit on. It’s daylight, people can still see you out here.”

  “I don’t give a fuck, I want my money got damn it,” she yelled. “Now where the fuck is it?” She eyeballed both of them, waiting for an answer.

  Although the rent was only one hundred dollars a-piece, she may as well have been asking for fifteen hundred, since they were currently both broke and unemployed.

  “We’ll have your money for you tonight,” Native promised.

  “I’m coming to your room later for my cash, and don’t be a penny short,” she walked back into the house and the screen door slammed behind her.

  “Fuck,” Native yelled.

  “If slim hadn’t relieved me of my paper, we would’ve been good,” Mystro said.

  “Check this out, son, I know we may not be go hard enough to go back and get what was taken from you, but we damn sure can make our own come up on somebody else,” Native suggested.

  Mystro took a moment to think before she answered. Normally, she was not with the hair-brained-quick-money schemes that Native proposed. But today, she felt beaten and she was broke. To top it all off, Margaret wanted her rent money and she was taking no excuses. Plus, Mystro knew she wasn’t going back to the Hoagie shop ever again. So, after much deliberation, she looked at her friend and asked, “What’s your plan?”

  CHAPTER 4

  “I ain’t too sure ‘bout this, Nae.” Mystro confessed.

  “You not sure ‘bout what, son?” Native asked, annoyed.

  “This shit…we actually ‘bout to do the same thing to someone that was done to me a few hours ago. Shit ain’t cool,” Mystro stated.

  “Slim, what else you wanna do,” Native turned around to face Mystro from the passenger seat. “We trying to party tonight, but now we empty and we gotta pay rent on top of it all. Plus, this the weekend we been waiting on all year,” Native pleaded.

  “Naw, champ, this the weekend you been waiting on. I just go cuz I know you be hype ‘bout it. You know I hate the club scene,” Mystro explained.

  “What the fuck? So now you tell me? Look, son, you ain’t gotta do nothing you don’t want to for real,” Native spat. “I’ma big girl, I can roll solo,” she continued.

  “Fuck is you getting all in your feelings for?” Mystro asked turning her head to her left to address Native.

  “I’m not in my feelings, son, I’m just saying. You ain’t never said nothing ‘bout not wanting to hit the club for PRIDE before. Now just cuz we gotta put in a little work for some money, you hesitating.” She looked back out onto the parking lot.

  Mystro knew her nerves were getting the best of her. She needed to calm down and come clean with her friend instead of making excuses. “Look, we ain’t gotta come undone. My bad, I just feel off. I ain’t never held up nobody before,” Mystro said.

  “I know, man, I know…me neither,” Native turned to look at her friend. “But we ain’t gonna hurt nobody. We ain’t even got no bullets, remember?”

  Mystro nodded, and continued to check her surroundings from the driver’s seat of her Maxima. She reflected back to an hour ago when she and Native rummaged through the attic in an attempt to locate Native’s uncle’s gun. After thirty minutes of searching, they finally recovered the .32 caliber firearm. However, it was not loaded, and after another fifteen minutes, they could not locate one bullet.

  “So we just gonna lay here and look for the most unaware person, who look like they got some gwaup, and we roll up. Simple,” Native coached.

  “Fuck man. This shit can’t be right,” Mystro continued to whine.

  “Nigga, stop bitching up,” Native barked, having tired of Mystro’s sulking. “If you do it and it don’t sit well with you, I won’t ask you no more. But, I need you today, right now. Got me?” Native bargained.

  Mystro looked straight ahead through the windshield. She watched different people coming in and out of the PG Plaza food court entrance of the mall. The blasting air condition, and the nervous thoughts of armed robbery, made tiny goose bumps appear all over her bare arms. She glanced to her right at Native briefly and could see anticipation in her eyes. Mystro knew that if she did this and something went wrong, they could get hurt or caught. But, she also knew if she didn’t do it, Native would move without her and not have anyone watching her back. Mystro’s downfall at times was her loyalty. She knew this could possibly not end well, but she gave her word and that was something she did not take lightly.

  There was no more debating; she knew what had to be done. “Native, we—,”

  Before Mystro could finish her statement, Native jumped out of the car and slammed the door. Mystro looked on in shock and anger, as she studied Native run up on a female walking in the parking lot. ‘I know this mothafucka not ‘bout to bank shawty without me.’ Mystro thought. It wasn’t until she remembered the gun was still under the passenger seat, that she calmed down a little. ‘What the fuck is she doing?’ Mystro pondered as she watched closely.

  ***Parking Lot***

  “Excuse me, ma…you dropped something,” Native yelled jogging up on the woman.

  The bronzed Brazilian looking female turned around to look behind her, but didn’t see anything on the ground.

  “What did I drop?” she asked.

  “My number,” Native said, sounding corny as shit. ‘If she smiles she mine.’ Native thought.

  She smiled.

  “I never had your number to drop, honey,” Brazilian Chick said, blushing.

  “Girl, stop playing. Let me check your phone,” Native played harder.

  “Give you my phone? No boo, you not about to trot off with my Blackberry and have me standing out here looking ridiculous.”

  “Naw, ma. I ain’t that nigga. Here,” Native dug into the pocket of her fatigue cargo shorts, and pulled out her iPhone. “You hold my phone while I put my number in yours,” Native said, holding her phone in her hand.

  “You real bold, how you even know I want your number?” Brazilian Chick asked.

  “Cuz I know you wanna keep a smile on your beautiful face, and I can do that for you,” Native bragged, and winked her right eye.

  “You think you so smooth, don’t you?”

  “Naw, I’m just being straight with you. I think you gorgeous and would love to take you out and show you a good time.” Native put it all on the line.

  Brazilian Chick laughed. “So, is this your thing, hanging out in mall parking lots to look for women?”

  Native smiled. “Naw, ma, me and my homie just pu
lled up and was looking for a parking space when I spotted you.” She lied. “What about you, for some reason you don’t look like you’d shop in this type of mall?”

  “No, I don’t really. But I had to get some special hair color for a client of mine this afternoon and only the beauty store here carried it.” She explained.

  “Oh, ok, so you a stylist?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s what’s up,” Native said nervously. “So, what you say, shawty, you gonna give me your number?”

  Brazilian Chick did not say anything.

  Native watched her closely and observed how she looked her up and down. Then proceeded to check out the rest of the parking lot to see who was looking. When she was finished, she reached into her brown Michael Kors bag, and pulled out her blackberry. She handed the phone to Native.

  Native immediately punched in her code to unlock her iPhone and handed it to her. “You know how to program your number in my phone?” Native inquired.

  “Yes, I used to have an iPhone,” she informed. “But I upgraded,” she joked.

  Native watched as the Brazilian Chick punched numbers into her contact. She took a long look at her. Shawty was banging, she had the prettiest feet Native ever saw. She immediately started to visualize how it would be to fuck her.

  “Well, when you done, can you assist me with your phone?” Native asked. “I ain’t had a blackberry in about five years, so I feel jive remedial over here,” she confessed.

  Brazilian Chick laughed and handed Native her iPhone back. She then leaned in so close to Native that her shoulder rested against Native’s bare shoulder. She proceeded to guide Native through her blackberry.

  “You smell good as shit. What kinda perfume you got on?” Native inquired.

  “Thank you,” she smiled. “It’s called, Miami Glow by J. Lo.”

  “Damn, that’s my new favorite perfume now,” Native added for free. “Well, I don’t wanna keep you from your appointment any longer. But it was a pleasure to meet you—”