It Is What it Is

by Ivory B.

  “Aaaah! Caarlooos” Lucky slurred covering her eyes with the back of her hand as if she were a vampire withering away at the sight of sunlight. She couldn’t figure time right now she had no idea what time it was. All she knew was that Carlos was getting on her last nerves and he seemed to be getting a kick out of it. She could hear him chuckling from a distance whenever her head stopped throbbing. The fool had already woke her up once already forcing her to drink bottled water now he was at it again with a glass of orange juice. All Lucky wanted to do was crawl up under a rock and sleep her life away; she was hurting in the worst way.

  “Baby girl let’s go, you gotta drink this right quick.” “I’m not thirsty.” “Word? You sure? Cause you soundin like a nigga that done smoked a whole carton of cigs in the bing right now. You sure you ain’t a lil parched?” Los asked trying to hold back a laugh. Lucky cut her eyes into evil slits glaring at Los. If she had the strength she would’ve gotten up and swung on him. Out of nowhere Lucky suddenly felt Los lowering his weight on top of her and her mind went into overdrive. Unh, unh I know this man can’t be serious? He can’t possibly be thinking of sex at a time like this? I feel like death.” “Ma what up? What happened to all that shit you was talkin last night about me beatin it up?” Lucky furrowed her brow she had no idea what he was talking about. What she did know is that there was no way she was sexing him right now. “Wha…What? I don’t know what you talkin about. Now please get off me you hurting my stomach,” Lucky moaned. “Oh you got a stomach ache so can I get some head then?” “Carlos I can’t…” she began to say but was interrupted by a loud vulgar sound of vomit ripping up from deep in her gut to her throat. Carlos jumped up with lightening speed as Lucky stumbled to the bathroom barely making it. He burst out into laughter “That’s right, there it go let it up off ya stomach ma.” Lucky paid Los no mind as she went through two waves of vomit before she calmed down breaking into weak whimpers. She didn’t even notice when Los came into the bathroom to hold her hair up as she let it go in the toilet. “See that? Now next time you’ll know to only drink what you can handle,” Los said in a matter of fact tone. Lucky cried even harder as she felt Carlos lifting her up and carrying her back to bed where he washed her up and placed a warm washcloth on her forehead. “Let your stomach settle for a bit, then we gon have to get some fluids in you,” he said before kissing her on the cheek. “You’ll live ma, it’s your first hangover,” was all she heard before she was out once again.

  The next time Lucky woke up Los had a tray on the nightstand with glasses of orange juice, water and ginger ale. She actually drunk all three glasses of drinks the only thing she wouldn’t touch was the dry toast on the tray. Los emerged from the separate sitting area in their master suite when he heard movement. “C’mon Stank, Stank you gotta at least take a couple bites of your toast, get some bread in you to soak up that alcohol on your stomach.” Lucky shook her head no. Her stomach was too off to even think about eating. She looked up to catch Los giving her this look that said either she could eat it willingly or he had other ways of force feeding her. She went with door number one and just ate the toast. It wasn’t even three minutes after that bread hit the pit of her stomach that her stomach begin to rumble and bubble up. Lucky jumped from the bed and took off to the bathroom tearing it down. She could hear Los laughing his ass off. “Lucky Charms I changed my mind about hittin. I love you to death but you can keep that shitty ass pussy today,” he said through laughter.

  Lucky hopped in the shower wanting to murder Carlos he was truly being an asshole. When she was done she came out of the bathroom looking as if someone had rung her through the washer machine on extra rinse cycle. She climbed in bed curling up into a ball holding her stomach. “Next time you out drinkin like a sailor remember never to mix brown and white liquors that shit will tear your stomach up, but I gather you knew that already right Miss Grown Ass.” Lucky stuck her middle finger up at Carlos over her shoulder. Carlos climbed in bed pulling her into him even though she fought against it by pulling away. “Get the fuck off of me!” Lucky gritted flaying her arms showing that she was really upset with Carlos’s antics.

  “Hold up, hold up so you got an attitude now? Yo how you think I feel seeing you like this ha? Luck go out and do you that’s fine, but what I don’t wanna see is my wife gettin white girl wasted in a club. That shit ain’t cute; drink what you can handle and that’s it. You don’t like how you feeling now right?” Lucky shook her head with a solemn look on her face. “So remember that the next time you out partying. Besides you could have a lil me inside you right now we don’t know,” Los said touching her stomach. Lucky looked perplexed for a second. “Then why didn’t you say anything last night when I was drinking?” “It’s some things you gotta learn on your own, you live and you learn. I want you to go out and have a good time, I’m not trying to stop you from doin that but always keep it classy. You got a name to uphold Mrs. Johnson,” Los said with a playful bite on her cheek. “You were there though, so I figured you would hold me down and not let anything happen if I did get too drunk.” “You damn right I would and I did that, but I’m not always gon be around; you got your own life to live. I just wanna make sure that when you out here by ya’self you taking care of ya’self. Lucky every man out here ain’t stand up, it’s some real cruddy niggaz out here that would take advantage of a chick when she drunk off her ass.” Lucky looked sad, she felt as if she let him down. “Don’t look like that Mami fix ya face, you know I love you,” Carlos said kissing her on the forehead. The entire rest of the day Los never left Lucky’s side. He stayed in all day to nurse Lucky’s hangover.

  Pay the Piper

  Real navigated his Range through the snowy streets of Baltimore two days after one of the biggest Nor’easter’s the East Coast had experienced that year. He looked up and down the streets in utter awe. The streets were like a ghost town. The weather had even scared the D boys off the blocks. There wasn’t a corner nigga in sight hugging the block and that was epic in Baltimore known as the Crack Mecca. What caught Real’s attention was that the few Chinese restaurants they had passed were even closed. “Damn mah dude you peeped that? Not even the mufuckin Chinks is open. Now that shit right there is epic. You know them niggaz about they gwap. They open every day, even national holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New years, shit if we was under attack by Martians them mufuckas would still be open serving pork fried rice and chicken wings out this bitch,” Real said. Meat doubled over with laughter. The shit Real was kicking was pure comedy but real talk to the fullest.

  There was a light flurry of snow falling from the sky coating the already abundance of snow on the roads. Real had the custom stereo down low on his sound system as he waited for a call back from a dude named Slim who was his B-More contact. Meat took a hard hit of the blunt and let the smoke fill his lungs before he exhaled out his nostrils. The purple haze had him feeling good right now. “Ayo he still ain’t hit you back?” Meat asked already knowing the answer. “Nah I don’t even know the kid, it’s some nigga Los know, apparently he gon help us get this package so we can be on our way back to Philly…You see that shit son! Yo this shit is crazy! What the fuck? The only thing out here is crackheads.”

  Crackheads were wading through the deep snow in search of their next hit. It didn’t surprise Meat one bit that they didn’t take a day off. “Fuck is they doin wit shovels?” Real asked with his face screwed up. “Gettin they hustle on, tryna make a quick buck for that next get high. You know they see somebody stuck in they driveway or in the streets they’ll dig they asses out for a few bucks.” This was nothing new to Meat after spending some of his earlier days hugging the blocks he’d experienced his share of crackheads and knew about the many hustles they had. Real was becoming slightly impatient knowing that he still had at least a 4 hour drive back to Philly in this snow. He was just about to call his contact again when a Ford Explorer came creeping up the street. The truck came to a stop and the windows rolled down exposing a slim dark skinne
d man with braids.

  “I’m Slim, I already peeped the PA license plates so I know y’all Los peoples. How can I be of assistance to you in my hood today?” Real smirked a little, picking up on Slim’s B-more accent. “What up? We hope you can help us, we tryna be on some in and out type shit, we here to pick up a package,” Real said. “A’ight so what info y’all got for me?” Slim asked. “That’s the thing mah G nothin really. We gotta name but Los said you run the hood down here. If anyone can help us with this right here it’s you.” Real knew exactly what to do, see sometimes you had to play head games with niggaz, stroke their ego’s a little bit to have them go that extra mile for you. “Yeah, yeah I mean I do what I do.” Slim said rubbing his goatee thoughtfully. “So what’s the name?” “Louis.” Slim frowned. “Don’t take this no typa way, I mean this with the utmost respect but do it really look like niggaz out here runnin around using they government? Y’all ain’t even got a nickname I can work wit?” Real chuckled lightly. He knew the challenge Slim was facing. “Ayo, I’m sayin, we got what we got, can you help us or what?” Meat said in a rude tone tired of this country ass sounding nigga already. “Let me see what I can do,” Slim said before pulling his head back into his truck and rolling his window back up. A few minutes later Slim beeped his horn signaling he had something to say. “What up?” Real asked. “I got somebody coming through that’s gonna help us.” Real shook his head and no more than 6 minutes later a straggly looking clucker walked up on Slim’s truck. She was so damn skinny it looked as if the snow would break her twig legs in half as she waded through it.

  “Yo Dirty D! What’s goin on wit you girl?” “Ain’t shit you know me, I’m out here scheming tryna get on one, you said you was gon look out for me Slim what I gotta do?” “D help ya boy find someone out here, I’m lookin for a dude name Louis.” “Who?!” She barked with her face screwed up. “What he go by? I don’t know nobody by that name. What he look like?” she asked urgently while scratching at her arm. “He got green eyes,” Real offered up. “It can’t be too many zombies out here with green eyes.” Real reasoned with a hint of frustration. D’s eyes lit up with recognition. “Yo D if you can’t do it I’ma just call that nigga Beatz and see what he can do for me,” Slim said adding just the right amount of pressure. “Oh unh, unh, noo Slim I’m on it! You still gon hook me up though like you promised right?” “Don’t I always play fair with you? I always look out? D you know my word is bond,” Slim assured. “Okay I’ll be right back, don’t go nowhere, don’t go nowhere alright,” she said before scurrying down the street and taking a corner like she was running from the law.

  The men waited and waited, Real was beginning to lose faith in her returning when suddenly he spotted two figures walking up the street. Sure enough there Dirty D was and she wasn’t alone. She was walking with a man that stood a little over 6ft tall. He looked as if once upon a time before the drugs he could’ve been a physically imposing man but now he looked withered and frail. Real picked up on the convo between the mystery man and Dirty D as they stood between both trucks. “You said we was gon split this get high, right remember that?” the man asked D. “Slim this Mean Green, go head Green tell him yo real name is Louis,” D urged. “Yeah, yeah it is,” Green smiled as if he were up for a casting call exposing two missing front teeth one at the top and one at the bottom. The missing teeth were results of him not keeping his hands off the local D-Boys stashes. He knew the danger in it but getting high had a bigger hold on him. Not even being hospitalized after getting beat with a medal pole and 2x4 stopped him from stealing. He would go so far as to approach beat cops and point out which dude was holding work, wait until the jump out boys hopped out on the D-Boys to make an arrest, then once the cops were in hot pursuit Green would go and grab their stash or whatever drugs they tossed while running from a drug charge. He was a straight despicable crackhead who stayed scheming and that’s why he was often getting his ass beat. Green took a licking and kept on ticking that’s why the local D-Boys gave him the nickname Mean Green. They claimed he could take an ass whoopin like the incredible hulk.

  “Is this it?” Slim asked Real, Real squinted his eyes and nodded his head. “Yeah, I think so, gotta be.” Slim kept his word slipping D crack in her palm as if he were giving her a handshake and a 100 dollar bill. “Thank you! Thank you Slim, see that’s why I fucks wit you, you always on the up and up!” she exclaimed before taking off up the street. “Ay! Ay! Bitch hold up!” Green screamed real aggressive like. Both Real and Meat grabbed for their burners simultaneously.

  “Ay Green you about to take a ride with us we’ll look out for you,” Meat said. Green looked over and hesitated for a second. “A’ight but I’ma tell y’all from the gate I know it’s two of y’all but I charge separately for blow jobs.” Real grimaced feeling as if he would throw up in his own mouth. “Ayo what the fuck?!” Real barked with disgust. “C’mon man fuck outta here wit that faggot shit ain’t nobody here for that, fuck wrong wit you? We gotta job for you now get in or I’ma drag ya ass in,” Meat gritted. Green hopped in the backseat without another word. “Slim good lookin out kid, I like ya style,” Real said. “Yeah likewise, tell mah nigga Los to holla.” On that note Real threw his Rover in gear and was off into the night.

  An hour later they were making good timing distance wise back to Philly but Real didn’t know if he could go on much longer. The pungent smell that had taken over the car mixed with the heat blasting through the vents to keep them from freezing on this cold night was damn near sickening. Real coughed hard covering his nose and mouth with the front of his shirt, he was doing relatively well compared to Meat who was taking deep breaths through the passenger side window. “Yo how much longer we got? This nigga smellin like rotten ass and cheese son, I’m bout to fuckin hurl,” Meat complained. “Please don’t throw up in my whip,” Real said through laughter. Meat made a loud hurling sound, the threat of vomit covering his new Range Rover sport caused Real to pull over immediately. Meat flung the door open and hung his head out breathing hard trying to catch his breath. “Damn gangsta let me find out you really gotta weak stomach,” Real teased. “Youngin ain’t shit about me weak or soft, check mah mufuckin street resume. If they was given out pens and tassels for all the work I put in, in these streets a nigga would be walkin around lookin like Captain Crunch on the cereal box, ya heard.” Real burst out laughing and so did Meat for a split second before he became serious again. “Ayo, this right here ain’t gon work. Real we gon have to do something about his funky ass. Let’s throw this mufucka in the trunk or something.” By now Green was fast asleep in the backseat like a new born baby. Even though, he was shivering like he was standing in Alaska with no coat on and sweating profusely. “All I know is we gon bring this package to Los unharmed and still breathing like he asked. Besides he sleeping who gon pick this nigga up? Not me,” Real said. “This don’t even make no sense, what Los want with a zombie anyways? Who is he? Yo Los be doing some crazy shit sometimes, trust me I’ve known him waaay longer than you. Psss man let’s just hurry up and go. I know you hear this nigga moaning back there. I hope you know he dope sick. He already shaking you better hope he don’t shit or throw up back there.” The look on Real’s face was comical. He was literally putting the petal to the metal trying to get back to Philly with the fear of Green shitting in his whip.

  Real didn’t know for sure who ole boy was in the backseat but he had a good suspicion. He thought he saw something familiar in his eyes when he looked at him earlier. Real had learned a long time ago that Los was a very peculiar man. He wasn’t a talker he was a doer. It was always a method to his madness, you just had to wait for the back drop to say ahh okay I get it. Everyone and everything had a purpose and a position they played in his life and world. Meat obviously didn’t understand Los, even though he was always shooting out the fact he knew him longer. That’s why Los had a love for chess. Los knew who all his knights and pawns were. And despite the fact he was a true Alpha male he didn’t mind sharin
g leadership with another male. Nope; there were times when Los would stand down and let Nice call shots. That alone showed Real that Los was a very complex man. He vowed to try and figure Los out one day but at this very moment his first objective was to get this funky nigga out his whip.

  They had finally made it back to Philly and Real called Los to tell him he had his package. Los was pleasantly surprised, he hadn’t expected Real to handle it as quickly as he did. Los assumed because of the weather Real would’ve placed going to B-More on hold but apparently he hadn’t. When Real pulled into the parking lot it was nearly 12 AM. All the office staff was gone and there were only a few cars that remained in the lot. Both Meat and Real had the dirty duty of picking Green up by his shoulders and legs then lugging him into the building.

  When they entered Los’ office they found him sitting behind his desk clearly working on something while Nice sat in one of the plush leather chairs in front of Los’ desk on his cell phone. The assault on Nice’s nostrils is what caught his attention first. He looked up to find Real and Meat dragging a crackhead into the office. “Fuck is y’all doin?” Nice asked with a bewildered expression on his face. Los didn’t even look up from scribbling on a notepad “Pull up a chair over there and leave him,” Los ordered. Nice looked over at his brother for an explanation but Los gave none. Los continued doing him even though he felt everyone in the room staring at him. Once he was done he plopped his pen down and looked at the figure sitting slumped in the middle of his office.