“I don’t want my dick sucked.” Teck stroked her hair. “And I ain’t just any ol’ nigga.”
She held her mouth tight. “Their daddy is whatever nigga had the dough to get me my next hit.”
“Damn,” Teck said, disgusted.
“See, I knew I shouldn’t have told you my business.”
“Naw, it’s cool. I’m good. Where your kids at now?”
“My cousin. She keepin’ ’em until I get my act together.”
“How long she had ’em?”
“For five years.”
“Don’t you want your kids back?”
“Ugly as I am?” she snapped. “I don’t want my kids seeing me.”
“Ugly?” That caught Teck off guard.
“Yeah, nigga, ugly. Nobody ever told me I was beautiful. That shit always hurt me, and when I was high, I realized that I could chase the pain away.”
“I wonder if that’s why my mom got high,” Teck said, more to himself than to Fe-Fe.
“People get high for different reasons,” Fe-Fe said with tears filling her eyes. “Some reasons they can talk about, and some reasons they can’t. You think I like being a junkie? I just can’t help it.”
“I would help you,” Teck said, rubbing his hand across her cheek.
“Yeah, right.” She twisted her lips.
“I would, but you have to want to stop getting high.”
“I do.”
“Well, I’ll take you to the clinic tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” Fe-Fe frowned, “Slow it down, nigga. I got to get my hit on for at least two more days. Then we can talk about gettin’ clean.”
Teck looked at Fe-Fe and shook his head.
* * *
Anshon was decked from head to toe. He stood in front of the full-length mirror inside his walk-in closet and grinned at his reflection. This was the happiest he’d been in a long time. Tammy had hooked him up with the connect. He was gettin’ paid and servin’ half of Selma and some of Raleigh while doing it.
He remembered quite well that Tammy had instructed him to be quiet on the come up, but some things he just couldn’t resist. His minted ’77 pearlized blue Chevy with 22-inch chrome Giovannis and a white rag top was one of ’em, along with his custom-designed, bricked-in double wide trailer, tucked away in the country. This was the fuckin’ life.
He bent down while looking in the mirror and tied his all white Air Force Ones. He stood up straight and picked a piece of lint from his winter white hoodie. His blue Ecko jeans were perfect. He slipped on his army fatigue jacket and green Vietnam cap. His long braids hung under the cap and rested on his shoulders, and his thick Gucci link platinum chain set it all off. Anshon couldn’t help but smile. It was obvious that he was the shit.
Taking one last look at himself, he was ready to go to the pool hall and get his party on. The pool hall was more than just a place to shoot some 8-balls. It doubled as a small club, located right outside of Selma, and played Crunk music and catered to big ballers. So of course, Anshon had to be in the place.
Silently approving his appearance, he reached for his car keys. As he placed them in his pocket, his cell phone rang.
“Yeah,” he said, holding the phone to his ear and walking out the door.
“Yo, Shon, what up, dawg?” It was Teck.
“Nothin’. ’Bout to roll through the pool hall. Yo, I’m sorry about earlier, with my sister. The memory of her getting shot still fucks with her.”
“It’s all good. I can understand,” Teck said. “Why don’t you come by and pick us up? Or will the twins be cock-blockin’?”
“Nah, where y’all at?” Anshon asked.
“Doughnut’s,” Teck replied.
“Y’all still fuckin’ with his nasty and crazy ass.” Anshon laughed, getting into his car and starting the engine. “I hear his baby mama is a straight freak. He started runnin’ trains on her, and this bitch is turned the fuck out. My sister told me that she be hanging out in the pool hall, sucking niggas’ dicks and shit.”
“Get the fuck outta here!” Teck laughed.
“Word.” Anshon cracked up. “A’ight, yo, I’m ’bout to come through. Be outside.”
Before Anshon pulled out of his yard, he called his sister.
“Hey, big sis, just calling to check on you.”
“I’m good.” Tammy smiled. “Just typing.”
“On what?”
“Why?”
“Just tell me,” Anshon pressed.
“Well, since you wanna beg.” She giggled. “I’m writing a book.”
Anshon fell out laughing.
“See, that’s why I ain’t wanna tell yo’ dumb ass!” Tammy’s feelings were hurt. “Y’all some hatin’ asses.”
“Whooooa, slow down, big sis.”
“No, you slow the fuck down.” Tammy had a serious attitude. “This ain’t a joke to me.”
“I’m sorry,” Anshon said. “I’m stupid sometimes. You know that. What’s your book called?”
“Forget it. Don’t try and get on my good side now.”
“Look.” Anshon sighed. “For real–for real, I’m really sorry. I wanna know the name of it.”
“Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh.”
“I swear I won’t.”
“Hood Legend. That’s the title.”
“Oh, word? That’s tight as hell. For real. Keep it up, big sis. You know it’s all good.”
“Thanks, Anshon.”
“Love ya, girl.” He hung up. Before he pulled off, he slid in Lil Jon’s CD and turned the volume all the way up.
Anshon didn’t live as far as everybody thought. No one but Tammy knew the exact spot of his crib, and he wanted to keep it that way. It only took him five minutes to get to Doughnut’s.
Teck was outside on Doughnut’s porch, smoking a cigarette. “Come on!” he yelled as Anshon pulled up. A second later, Wallo and Doughnut stepped out of the house.
Oh, hell no, Anshon thought, I never said that Doughnut’s nasty ass could ride with me. Fuck that. Plus, I know this nigga pockets ain’t clean. He always got some shit on him.
“Teck,” Anshon yelled and motioned for him to come around to the driver’s window. Teck walked around.
“What the fuck? You said you and Wallo, not Doughnut. I don’t want him in my ride. His ass is crazy, and he always got weed and shit on him. And you know ever since the pool hall started poppin’, Selma’s finest be stoppin’ niggas all the time.”
“Your point?” Teck frowned.
“My point is that his fat ass ain’t riding in here.”
“Come on, Shon. It’s all good. He been going through some hard times. He and his baby moms broke up. She got another dude that she be flauntin’ right in Doughnut’s face. He need to hang out with the boys for a li’l while. I’ll make sure he’s clean.”
Anshon stared at Teck and then he gave him a pound to let him know it was all good. “Speak to his ass first.” Anshon said, shaking his head in disbelief that he was even in agreement.
Teck walked back onto Doughnut’s porch, where Wallo and Doughnut were standing.
“Yo,” Teck said, low enough so Anshon couldn’t hear him. “This nigga actin’ a little retarded. Ignore his ass. Y’all ready to roll?”
“Hell yeah.”
They all piled in Anshon’s car and took off.
“Yo, turn that shit up, Shon!” Teck said, reaching for the sound system.
“Nigga, is ya crazy?” Anshon laughed. “You don’t never touch the radio in a black man’s ride.” The entire car cracked up.
As Anshon turned into the pool hall’s parking lot, Lexie, Doughnut’s baby’s mother, watched him ride past her with Doughnut, Wallo, and Teck in the car. She loved to torture Doughnut, and being that she was his daughter’s mom, that always made him accessible. Doughnut loved Lexie, but he made the mistake of bringing the freak out of her, causing her to become a gold-diggin’ nymphomaniac.
Lexie stepped out of a tinted midnight black
Acura 3.5 RL, with red Daisy Duke leather shorts on, a tailor-fitted red leather jacket that fell mid-calf, red leather go-go boots, a red leather corset underneath the jacket, and box braids, braided with red hair that hung down her back. On her arm was Von, a ballin’ nigga from Raleigh who claimed to have half of ATL locked down.
Anshon circled the parking lot and ended up parking next to Von’s Acura, where Lexie stood with Von, arm in arm, preparing to make an entrance into the club.
Doughnut felt a lump rising in his throat. As he passed by Lexie, he didn’t say anything, but he made sure to bump Von as he passed him. Then he turned around, stared Von up and down, and gave him a look that dared him to say something.
The pool hall was packed, and everybody who was somebody from Raleigh, Smithfield, and Selma were in the house. Anshon bought a Colt 45 at the bar as the twins headed for the pool tables. The music was thumpin’ with Biggie’s “Kick in the Door.”
Lexie was parading around on Von’s arm, and Doughnut was watching them as they continued to pass by him. He sipped his beer and leaned against the bar.
Anshon sat with his back to the bar, nodded his head to the beat, and was rapping along with the song as Von came up to the bar with Lexie. Anshon glanced at Lexie, and she winked her eye at him as she and Von ordered two bottles of beer. Anshon twisted his lips, but he had to admit that underneath all that red, she had it going on.
Von looked at Anshon. “Word is,” he said, sipping on his drink, “that you the man I need to be speaking to.”
“Is that so?” Anshon smirked.
“That’s what the streets is saying,” Von assured him. “Maybe one of these days I can come through and see about you?”
“Maybe,” Anshon said, noticing a li’l shawtie walking past him. She was petite, with a smooth caramel complexion and full, soft-looking lips that were coated with clear MAC lip-gloss. Her waist was small, with hips that flared out over her thick thighs.
Instantly, Anshon’s dick was hard and he totally tuned Von out. It couldn’t be denied that shawtie was boom-bangin’. She had on tight jeans with Baby Phat in block letters, written in pink, going straight across her ass. Not since Anshon was fuckin’ with Constance had he seen such a perfect ass. Without thinking, Anshon grabbed his dick.
Destiny Child’s “Souljah” started playing, and everybody in the place started moving to the beat. Anshon licked his lips as shawtie started throwing her ass and dancing in the spot where she was standing. Anshon picked up his beer and started walking toward the dance floor, leaving Doughnut standing next to Lexie and Von.
“You know, if I was your man,” Anshon said, pressing his dick into shawtie’s ass, “I wouldn’t let you out of the house looking like this.”
She threw her ass deeper into his crotch. Anshon felt like his hard-on was a ticking time bomb.
“Looking like what?” she asked, still pressing her ass into his shaft.
“Like a dime.”
“Oh, no you didn’t insult me.” She turned around toward him, her mouth twisted.
“Goddamn,” he said. “Untwist your mouth.” Anshon took both of his hands and pushed the microbraids that fell over her shoulders behind her ears, revealing her name-plated, gold-hoop earrings. “Damn, you look good.”
“For your information . . .” She smirked, looking him up and down. “I’m not a dime. I’m a twenty spot, so get yo’ shit untwisted. And furthermore, you don’t know me well enough to be puttin’ yo’ dick against my ass.”
“Not yet. I’m Anshon. Tell me your name, shawtie.”
“Well, it ain’t shawtie.”
Anshon laughed, “Yo, why you trippin’?”
“A’ight. I’ma stop buggin’. My name is Monica.”
“How you doin’, Monica? Fine, I’m sure.”
“Boy, please.”
Anshon laughed. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Yeah. I want a Red Bull.”
When she said that, it reminded him of Doughnut being left at the bar with Lexie and her new man.
Where did that nigga go? Anshon thought while he ordered Monica’s drink.
As soon as Monica took her drink into her hand, gunshots started to pop. Anshon grabbed Monica and took cover. Everybody in the club hit the floor.
“Everybody put they ma’fuckin’ hands up!” When Anshon looked up, he saw three men, dressed in all black with ski masks on and tommy guns in their hands.
Oh, shit, Anshon thought. These niggas ain’t playin’. They really holdin’ us up!
Just then, he heard a hissing sound. When he turned in the direction of the sound, he saw Wallo crouched down in the corner.
“Everybody stand up and shut up!” the men yelled, pointing their guns.
Everyone stood up.
“Run them fuckin’ pockets!” one of the other masked men yelled toward Anshon. From the sound of his voice, Anshon knew it was Tom-Tom.
Damn, I shoulda killed this nigga, he thought.
Tom-Tom looked Anshon in the face and leaned forward while running his pockets. “You should’ve killed me, nigga.”
“Don’t worry,” Anshon said, tight-lipped. “I will.”
“What the fuck is going on?” one of the masked men yelled. “Get that nigga cash and be out!”
Tom-Tom grabbed Anshon’s cash, which was only eight hundred dollars, and moved on. Everybody in the club had to empty their pockets. The men collected money, jewelry, and even some guns.
As one of them walked by, Anshon got a good look at his shape, and he knew it was Doughnut. What the fuck?
He looked toward Wallo. “That’s Doughnut,” he mouthed.
Wallo didn’t answer him; instead, he nodded toward the masked men, who were walking backwards out the door. Doughnut was the last man to walk out.
As Doughnut walked past Lexie, he grabbed her around the neck and pulled her with him. She started screaming. Von stood there paralyzed.
As if things had been moving in slow motion, suddenly all hell broke loose and the people started stampeding out of the club.
Anshon held Monica close, picked her up, and ran with her. When he got outside, he noticed Teck and Wallo running in front of him.
“Doughnut!” Anshon yelled in a panic. “That was that fat motherfucker.”
Anshon unlocked and snatched the door open to the car, throwing Monica inside. Teck and Wallo jumped in the back seat. As they went to take off out of the parking lot, they saw Doughnut standing in front of them, holding Lexie by the neck with the gun pointed toward her head, the ski mask no longer covering his face.
“I can’t believe that you did this to me,” Doughnut cried to Lexie. “As much as I loved you. We got a baby together. What did I do? Tell me!” Doughnut positioned his finger on the trigger.
“Oh, shit!” Wallo yelled out the window, “Doughnut, don’t do it!”
Anshon was trying his best to get away, but everybody was trying to come out of the parking lot at one time, creating massive chaos. Anshon could hear and smell his back tires burning rubber. Then suddenly his car shot forward, causing him to slam on the brakes. Everybody fell forward, and the car behind him almost ran into the back of him.
Looking in the rearview mirror, Anshon could still see Doughnut holding the gun to Lexie’s head. He seemed to be in a blind rage. Police sirens were blaring as they surrounded the crowd.
One of them spotted Doughnut and yelled through the bullhorn, “Take cover!”
Doughnut pressed the barrel deeper into the side of Lexie’s head. “Say good night.” He slowly eased the trigger back. As he did that, shots rang out from everywhere.
Anshon, Monica, and the twins ducked down in the car. It was at least fifteen minutes before they looked back up again, and when they did, Doughnut and Lexie were both dead.
No one said a word on the ride back home; not even Monica, who’d just realized that she was riding home with a stranger.
Chapter 3
After dropping Monica off at home, Ansh
on stopped by Constance’s, but she wouldn’t let him in.
“You not gonna let me in?” he asked her in disbelief.
“No, I’m not. How long has it been since I’ve seen you? And what time is it? Eight o’clock in the morning,” she said, answering her own question. “Go back to that bitch you dropped off this morning and fuck her.”
“How the fuck do you know who I dropped off?” Anshon reached his hand through the door and collared Constance. “Bitch, are you trying to set me up? You know just a little too much for a bitch who don’t never leave from around here.”
“Get the fuck off me!” she yelled, pushing his hand down.
“Don’t get killed fuckin’ wit’ the wrong nigga,” Anshon said, letting go of her. “Dumb bitch.”
She slammed the door in his face, and he hopped back into his ride and took off.
Anshon was pissed. Who the hell did Constance think she was? He started to go back and kick in her door, but he changed his mind and instead made a few phone calls and put a hit on Tom-Tom’s life.
Anshon called Tammy at least five or six times, but she didn’t answer. In his heart, he felt like something was wrong. He drove down Lizzie Street and pulled up in front of Teck and Wallo’s house. He saw Fe-Fe leaving with Teck and a suitcase in her hand.
“Where y’all goin’?” Anshon yelled out the window.
“This nigga done begged me to go to a program. I really ain’t the one, but shit, we’ll see.” Fe-Fe smiled at Anshon. “You know what I’m sayin’.”
“It’s all good, Fe-Fe.” Anshon smiled, giving her a thumbs up. “Just see what happens.”
“I’m taking care of that,” Teck said, winking at Anshon.
Anshon didn’t know what to say. For a minute, he wondered if Teck was doing Fe-Fe.
Anshon redialed Tammy on his cell phone, and still there was no answer. He revved his engine to race over there, and then he thought about the last time Tammy pulled a stunt and scared him half to death. He had to laugh. He picked up the phone and called Monica.
“Wassup, shawtie?”
“You.” She yawned.
“Let me come scoop you.”
“You just dropped me off.” She laughed.
“I know. Grab some gear. You can shower at my spot. I wanna spend some time with you.”
For the Strength of You Page 4
