Around the Way Girls 9

by Moore, Ms. Michel

  “Corielle Greene!”

  “It’s about time,” I mumbled under my breath, seeing my assigned caseworker swing the door open scanning the crowd. “Yup.” I jumped up not missing a beat. Rushing over with my paperwork out in hand, I was hoping she’d just take it like times before, letting me be on my merry way. But something about her tight lips, twisted face, and rolling eyes told me I was in for a war this go-around.

  “Good morning, Ms. Donahue,” I intentionally greeted her, playing the role but not knowing what her problem was.

  “Good morning, Miss Greene.” She kept it formal, holding the door open for me to walk through. “Right this way.” Leaving me behind to trail her, I instantly caught an attitude at how arrogant and snobbish she was coming across.

  I ain’t in the mood for this paper-pushing bitch today. Please, Lord, don’t let her try me this morning. Wishing I would’ve hit the blunt a little harder or longer before getting out of the car with Nique, I held my head low, trying to get my game face right for front game ahead of me. Be cool, don’t let her funky attitude get you rowdy. Be easy and be out.

  Going into her cubicle as usual, she offered me a seat before sitting down on the other side of her desk, typing into her computer. Plopping down in the chair, I unfolded the paperwork I had Nique fill out and forge so the handwriting wouldn’t come close to mine, along with the generic check stubs I made, and placed them onto her desk. “Here’s the stuff you wanted completed and returned. You can keep the original; I’ve already made a copy.” From here my shit looked top-of-the-line official. Knowing I was testing the system, running the same game I’d been winning at for years, I tried playing her by having all my forms prepped for easy acceptance. With every line complete, each signature present, and no scratch-outs for her to verify and have me initial off on, once again my fraud game was on point . . . or so I thought.

  Looking down at the papers then back up at me, she laughed under her breath, instantly pissing me off. “I’m not going to be able to use those forms, Miss Greene.”

  “Excuse me? What you mean you can’t use these forms? Why the hell not?” Losing my cool, before I knew it my voice was carrying throughout the back area. Even ol’ musty Tandy turned around at my outburst.

  “All recipients receiving cash and food benefits must recertify, Miss Greene. Part of my job is to verify all information submitted to me, which I did.” Hitting the print button, her grin grew wide. “And from taking a quick glance at what you’ve presenting, they’re not legit.”

  Oh hell naw. She had me in a trick bag. Think quick, Cori, think quick! “Ain’t nothing about this right here fake. You got me fucked up.” I decided there was no other choice but continue with my lie.

  “I’m gonna have to ask you to calm down. If not, I’ll call security to have them escort you out of the building.” Cool and collected, she wasn’t the one getting ready to go down for welfare fraud.

  “Yeah, whatever. Like I said, ain’t nothing about these papers fake or fraudulent so get your life.”

  Sliding her proof across the desk, her slick, government-working behind had clearly gotten one up on me. “Come on now, Miss Greene, cut out the shenanigans already. We both know what’s going on, and that you’ve been illegally getting food stamps in addition to cash assistance for probably your entire time on record.”

  Snatching them up with attitude, intentionally knocking over the picture frame of her and some mangy mutt, I began to scan over the shelter verification form that was much different from the one my girl Ta’Nique hooked up. My landlord unknowingly snitched me out to this white bread–acting caseworker about my subsidized rent and included utilities. Milking the system as I knew it was coming to an end. “Well no wonder you acting all funky and shit. You done pulled a whammy so you feeling yourself.”

  “I’m just doing my job. So you know I’ll be calling your place of employment to verify hours worked, et cetera. I must be very thorough in detail as to why I’m closing your case; just following protocol.” She picked up my fake stubs already knowing the real deal.

  I couldn’t take her being happy at my expense. I’d never been the type of broad to let other girls get ego or big feelings at the cost of my reputation. Never that. I see she wants it with me.

  “Fuck you think? You ain’t calling shit. You can shove that punk-ass two hundred dollars in food stamps and two hundred dollars in cash once a month up your tight asshole.” Snatching my stubs from her now shivering hands, I was in rare form ready to turn up. “I oughta punch you dead in the face for fucking with me, lady.” Pushing her chair back, standing up, on point with my reflexes, I snatched off my Cartier hoop earrings ready to scrap it out on government property. “You want it, bitch, what?”

  “Security,” she yelled, backed up against the file cabinet, shook up. “I need immediate help.”

  “Yeah, security, come save this ho.” Knocking over a few more trinkets on her desk, I hawked up a big glob of saliva and spit right on top of her computer keyboard. “I’ll catch your scary ass on the flip side, trust.”

  By the time the slow, fat security guard showed up to her rescue, I’d gathered my falsified papers up and was passing him up the walkway. No way in hell was I getting ready to face charges behind clowning at DHS. Ms. Donahue was going to be forced to meet me on my turf.

  “Damn, girl, it’s about time.” Nique started the car as I slid into the passenger seat, fuming.

  “That slick bitch had the nerve to call me out on having bogus paperwork,” I yelled, grabbing the tail of Kush from the car’s ashtray. Hyperventilating, pissed to be caught off my square, I needed to get some weed in me quick.

  “Whoa. Slow down . . . What?” Nique was just as caught off-guard as me. “What in the hell happened in there?”

  “She had one up on me, that’s what,” I yelled, aggravated to the point of wanting to ram my fist through the windshield. “You know I can’t stand a bitch playing me for a fool, Nique. And she got down on ya girl real good.” Pulling on the blunt hard, I felt my lungs almost collapse at the impact of the thick smoke. I needed the downer bad. Blowing out the leftover smoke into Nique’s beat-up Taurus, I continued with the story, giving my girl a play-by-play of what went down.

  “Wow. Mr. Goldstein foul for that anyway. If he can call for some head in exchange to take money off the rent, he could’ve called for that.”

  “That’s what I’m saying. But she’s dirty for even taking it that far. It ain’t like it’s her money that’s loading on my bridge card ever’ ninth. I hate heffas who overdo their job.”

  “Girl, that’s why I ain’t even tried messing with they ass; I don’t see how you did it for this long,” she said as she shook her head.

  “Don’t even start. It is what it is. But I’m ready to get with her ass for busting me out like that. That was uncalled for.”

  “True that. So why you over here being all irri like she can’t get handled? That heffa on every social network just like everybody else. You better do your research so we can creep on her.”

  Nique had a point. I had to give my girl props. We were a pair of criminally minded chicks who only knew how to handle our beefs and vendettas in the street.

  “Besides, Mr. Goldstein will go back on whatever it was he sent with, probably just a hand job,” she continued, knowing that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  “You think that didn’t cross my mind? I thought about that first; that’s why I went plum nigga nuts up in there.” The mere mention of his name had me getting excited all over again.

  “Well, slow down, boxer.” She laughed, pulling out of the tight parking spot. “Don’t forget we’ve gotta hit this beauty supply right quick so you’ve gotta have your game face on.”

  “Aw, man, that totally slipped my mind. Ms. Donahue’s hating behind has gotten me all twisted up.”

  “Um, then get up out of those knots, boo. You know my first client is at eleven, Cori. We need to get my products stocked more than ever now. So
shake whatever voodoo hex that lady put on your morning so we can get to work.”

  “Oh no doubt, let’s be there. I’ve gotta stock up on some makeup anyway. Your cousin’s party is tonight so I’ve gotta be cute for him.” Grabbing my phone to send him my usual good morning text, I hoped he was up on the early worm chase so he could start a private convo with me.

  “Before you start your morning cake and bake session with his bogus behind, why don’t you get at Wally about getting some work? With your caseworker tripping, I’m assuming we won’t be eligible to get emergency state assistance for shutoffs or evictions. We need to make another guaranteed line on money.”

  “I feel you, but the way we smoke, we’d be blowing through our whole supply. Wouldn’t be any product to profit off of. You know how we do.” I was being honest with her and myself. We were both fiends for marijuana and that could be a problem when trying to sell it.

  “Bitch, please, we need to flip this cash making sure we keep some money in our pockets. I’m tired of being broke so if we gotta drop this habit cold turkey, then so be it.”

  Nique was talking out of the side of her neck. I had no intention of giving up weed, point blank period, and neither did she.

  “You gonna be blazing ’til the day you die, so spare me the sponsor speech,” I said, rolling my eyes and making her laugh. “But you’re right about being broke. It’s played out and I’m surely ready for a change. But Wally ain’t the one I’m trying to get a come up through. As soon as I call that nigga he gonna be on some old ‘fuck me’ type shit and it ain’t even about that. Me and Mike about to be exclusive so I’m about to take my pussy off the market.”

  “You must be smoking more than this Kush Cookie if you think Mike is about to come up off the streets to settle down right now. You might as well hook up with Wally to see what he’s really talking about.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Despite truly wanting to, I sent Wally a text message letting him know I needed to speak to him on business. I hope this shit doesn’t go south on me.

  After a few seconds he responded; then we began to exchange casual conversation about this, that, and the third. I tried to keep it strictly business so he knew this wasn’t me trying to get a tricking session on. I’d gotten down with him in the past when I needed a few dollars, but I was so far past being on that tip with him. However, I knew the game and, with girls like me, dudes never think you can change. My street senses were telling me that I’d have to let Wally at least bang to get him to be my connect. Oh well, that’s what this pussy is for: work, work, work. Finally setting up a time to see him when me and Nique came from running the streets, I deleted all the texts so there wouldn’t be any evidence for Mike to possibly find. Nique might’ve said some slick shit I let slide about him not being that into me, but he’d prove otherwise on the regular going through my phone, marking his territory.

  Chapter Two

  Ta’Nique aka Nique

  Cori and I came from the same type of family upbringing. Hell, our moms were childhood friends since the age of ten. They were the original Thelma and Louise of Detroit. Mama and Auntie Faye shot dope together, smoked crack together, and even seemed to have overdosed together. So Cori and I were forced to fend for ourselves, and naturally gravitated to one another even as kids, because our moms stayed high. And now we out here on some new breed, second-generation dynamic duo–type shit, robbing and boosting in makeup and heels. Times had surely changed.

  I needed my ride or die buddy to get it together. Cori knew Wally the weed man had a thing for her we could use to our advantage to getting some weight, so I didn’t know why she’s sitting up over there caught up in her feelings like she didn’t know the game. Sometimes you had to be down for whatever to get a come up; it’s called life. And this bitch right here was trying to win. If Wally was into me, I’d be doing splits on his dick for a few ounces to sell. Looking over seeing her texting, I hoped it was to get the ball in motion with him and not checking in with my cousin. I wasn’t hating that they were an item; I was just more concerned about us getting that bread.

  Eager to get to the beauty supply store, I was wasting no time. Not only did I need to jump right for my cousin’s party just in case my boyfriend Vic’s groupies were lurking, but a few of my loyal customers had been blowing up my cell looking for a deal on bundles. Forget cutting the next man in when I could hit the lick myself. I would have much rather been in bed because my stomach was doing cartwheels, but I needed this quick lick badly! Taking a sip from the Vernors pop I was nursing, I was willing to try anything to feel better.

  Since shade was already thrown at basement beauticians, I tried to have my hustle run like a true business. I wasn’t about to get a bag tag for having my clients bring needles, thread, spritz, glue, or whatever else needed to get the job done. Besides, that was less money I could charge. By me and Cori lifting my product, everything made was profit. Sure we took the risk of being caught; but them coco puff Koreans weren’t equipped to handle our swipe skills.

  Pulling into the parking lot of one of the hottest beauty supplies in the city, I made sure to position my car pointing toward the alley for a quick getaway. Back to school time, the first of September, kids were posted at all four surrounding bus stops in their crisp new uniforms. Me and Cori had gotten down right before Labor Day with Walmart cards for back-to-school supplies; so I was sure some of them were rocking stolen apparel and book bags.

  “Black folk know they be out early.” Cori finally looked up from her phone, peeping more than just the school kids but stragglers walking around with no destination in mind. “We better hope the car is still here when we come out.”

  “I know right. Ain’t no telling on the Mile. Cats over here don’t sleep, take naps, doze off, or nothing.” It was a joke but thinking twice I didn’t want to burn bread on us. I said a quick prayer to make sure our outlaw ways weren’t getting ready to catch up with us now. This wasn’t the time to get caught up trying to be slick.

  Ding. Ding. The door had chimes that sounded as I pulled it open for Cori to walk through first.

  “If you not see, we not sale. If you break you buy.” A small-framed Korean lady greeted us, cheesing from ear to ear, obviously proud of her stained yellow teeth. Walking in automatically being watched, neither one of us twitched knowing this store’s cameras were there for show.

  We’d been in here a dozen times stealing their high-priced merchandise they bought for dirt cheap at wholesale prices, so this was regular routine for us. Splitting up, I knew Cori had her own thing to do. She already knew to snatch me up some combs, grease, and sheen. Having her grab the smaller items, while I hassled them about hair textures, worked more than well. The black girl who used to work here got fired for giving everyone the hookup, so we preyed on their inability to speak English.

  “Can I get some help with the hair?”

  Watching both the young Korean girls look back and forth between me and Cori with their slanted eyes, Cori was too crafty for them. Within seconds of them watching to see what move I was going to make, Cori had pulled the plug on their metal detector and swiped both bottles of O.P.I nail polish she’d been clutching in the palms of her hands. Bet girl, do ya’ thang ’cause I’m for damn sure about to do mine!

  “Uh uh, can I help you?” Dragging each vowel like a true Korean would, one of the employees finally opened her mouth to help me. “Yes, your sign outside says you have one hundred percent human hair on sale; what kind specifically?” Not talking like the true-bred hood girl I was, I wanted to throw her off.

  “Um, yes, Outre collection is on sale, ten to twenty-five percent off depending on style. You want see?”

  Acting confused, this was all part of the plan. Not only did I not care about what so-called sale they were offering, I was starting to get irritated by her strong accent. These little pale-skin munchkins always set up shop in the heart of hoods but couldn’t speak a lick of English, let along the Ebonics everyone around here spoke. “L
et me see the Remi Velvet eighteen inch if you have it, 1B.”

  Watching her scurry off, I went back to scoping the scene at hot-handed Cori. She was moving up and down the aisles, watching over her shoulder as she tossed shampoo, hair color, perms, oil sheen, and combs into her purse. My eyes widened, signaling her it was time to dump that merchandise and come back for a second round. What is she doing? That greed shit is gonna get us caught. Get smart, Cori! We’d been robbing for years, but as of late, Corielle was starting to get more reckless.

  “Here go hair. Ring up now?”

  “Um naw, I gotta check y’all product out first. I brought some weave out of here a few weeks ago and it napped up on me super quick.” I shook my head playing off disappointment. Reaching for the pack of hair, she eyed me suspiciously before handing it over.

  “No problem. No problem.” Opening the package so I could feel the hair a little, I ran my fingers from the wefts down knowing I was already planning on snatching it up.

  Almost having to snatch it from her hands, I held it up in the mirror trying to see if it would match my hair color. Once again none of this mattered. “I’ll need three more eighteen inches of these please. Do you have any hair that’s already dyed blond?” I was going to send her back and forth as many times as it took for me to snatch up at least ten packs of hair.