Thug-A-Licious

by Noire

  Chapter 2

  So when I say THUGGA

  Y’all say LICIOUS!

  Thugga…

  LICIOUS!

  Thugga…

  LICIOUS!

  The next night was game night and the house was vibrating from all the noise.

  The noise!

  The NOISE!

  I got high off that shit, ya know.

  Didn’t matter if I was out there spittin’ on the mic or breaking ankles on the court, the best feeling in the world was performing in front of thousands of fans who couldn’t stop screaming my name.

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  They were calling for me. Screaming for me. New Yorkers knew how to keep a baller stroked just right. And I was lovin’ that shit. The noise was my crack, and I just had to have it. My latest cut was blasting outta the speakers. The fans were on their feet. They were stomping and screaming and waving banners that sported my name in big bold letters. They wanted me, yo! They adored me. Pumped a niggah up to the sky.

  I was running game in triple-double land. The ball was like hot velvet in my hand. We were down by three, and I hit a three-pointer and got fouled. And one! Yeah, motherfuckers! That’s how you get back on top.

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  Coach signaled me over, and I dapped Marbury on my way to the bench. Somebody passed me a water jug. I swigged a mouthful, pushed my face into a towel, and then suddenly blinding heat sliced into the back of my neck and I was falling. Falling…FALLING!

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  The crowd was going crazy, and even as I slipped into the blackness I could still hear them screaming my name.

  “Dre! Yo, Andre! Can you hear me? Open your eyes! Oh, shit! Say something, motherfucker!”

  The noise was fading. I struggled to hear it as I moved into a foggy tunnel.

  Some half-naked freak with a killer ass ran over to the bench and threw her sexy black panties in my face. I took a deep sniff then tried to snatch them off.

  “It’s okay, Mr. Williams,” a voice above me said as my hand was restrained at my side. “We’re just giving you a little oxygen. Try and settle down, we’ll be arriving at the emergency room in less than a minute.”

  I shivered and struggled to get some focus. I was on a bed in what looked like a hospital room. Suddenly I felt easy. Light. Like I had smoked some high-grade chronic and was relaxing in a deep, bubbly Jacuzzi. Every chick I’d ever boned in my life was up in there with me too. Bodies tight and crucial as they gathered around me smiling and rubbing suds all over my arms and legs. Massaging my big nuts. Sucking my earlobes. Laughing my name.

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  Yeah! I laughed and reached out and flicked a hard nipple. A niggah like me was a freak to my heart. All the honeys knew what time it was when they got with me. I’d make ’em cum until they cried. Lick ’em, stick ’em, do all the nasty shit they loved until they begged me to stop. I couldn’t even bust me one unless a chick vibrated on my dick a couple of times first. And even then, I keep sexing her until she threatened to call the po-po and have me locked up.

  I turned to my right and saw Muddah sitting next to me looking finer than ever. I broke out in a grin. My ride-or-die baby. Carmiesha “Lil’ Muddah” Vernoy had been with me since back in the day. She was more than a dime piece. She was drop-dead gorgeous and had the best pussy in the world. Her bronze skin was hot in that tight-ass bikini. Nipples poking out on them big, firm titties. Luscious ass high and round, with that one little stretch mark shaped like a lightning bolt on her left ass cheek. My dick stood straight up as I remembered all the wild shit we used to do. I blew her a kiss. No matter how many other bitches there had been, nobody would ever come before her. There could only be one Muddah. She was my down-for-whatever queen. The only girl who’d ever gotten close to my heart.

  Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS! Thug-A-LICIOUS!

  I heard giggling and that’s when I noticed there was kids up in there with us too. Little Precious! Shonee and Duqeesa. Even Kathy and the twins were up in there rubbing soapy water all over me. Their hands was soft and warm, and they massaged my shoulder muscles until they felt like pudding.

  But it only took a second for all that shit to change.

  Suddenly my whole body was on fire and the heat was coming outta their fingers. Massage, my ass! I tried to knock their hands away but I couldn’t move. Them bitches was pinching. Every last one of them. The kids too. Standing over me scratching and scuffing. Digging their fingernails into my flesh like bird claws. Those whispers of love started smelling real nasty coming out their mouths.

  Bastard! Lying mothafuckah. No-good playa! Ho-ass deadbeat bitch.

  “Mr. Williams! Open your eyes. Try to stay with us, please! Okay…he’s fading. Call a code. Everybody stand back.”

  Punches started rocking down on me. Female hands balled into man-sized fists, thumping into my chest, my arms. My lip got busted. Somebody grabbed me by the throat. One of them bitches punched me in the dick.

  Stop! I tried to yell but they stuffed a pair of panties in my mouth.

  None of them was adoring me now. Instead, they was spitting in my face and calling me all kinds of low-down niggahs. Those jawns was beefing so loud they were drowning out the roar of the crowd. Shit, I could barely hear the noise.

  Would y’all shut the fuck up so I can hear the noise!?

  I was surrounded by a bunch of hateful black women calling me all kinds of motherfuckahs. Earrings was dangling. Necks swiveling, fingers pointing. Cursing my ass out from twenty different directions.

  Where the fuck is my money? I want my goddamn child support! Your fuckin’ baby needs Pampers, you sorry mothafuckah! I know your lying ass been fuckin’ around! Niggah your dick is dirty! You gave me herpes!

  Vikki, Rasheena, Remy, Breezy, Lani—they were all standing over me, jabbing me, hurting me, fouling my name. And the kids was getting some too. Slap that mothafuckah! Bite him! Harder! That’s right! Knock the shit outta your no-good ass Daddy!

  One of them snatched off a shitty Pamper and mushed it in my face. The rest of them bust out laughing. That crazy-ass Passion leaned over and laid our dead baby on my chest. Who the fuck had let her out the joint? The baby had on the same little white dress they had buried her in, and all kinds of maggots and flies were crawling outta her nose.

  I screamed out loud and turned my head, and that’s when I saw him.

  Trust Chambers. Better known as Harlem’s T.C. His killer eyes was full of disappointment as he watched me from a chair in the corner. He was smoking a cigar and pressed out in some deep, expensive gear. He had his arm around Miss Lady, his main squeeze, but she was half-dressed and so hurt she wouldn’t even look at me. Vyreen was standing right next to them with her nose blown away. Her red skirt was bunched up around her thick hips, and she was staring at me with disgust in her dead eyes.

  I was paralyzed and couldn’t move. I knew this day would come. This was what they called payback time. The period for atonement. The credo of the streets dictated it, and you could take that shit to the motherfuckin’ bank. Niggahs don’t slide forever. Whatever the fuck goes around, you could look for it to come back around. But only harder.

  I coulda rolled over and put the blame on Pimp, but T.C. had taught me better than that. Every man gotta hold his own nuts. My crimes belonged to me, and sooner or later if you played the game you had to pay the dues.

  Pay up, pay back!

  But before you throw that rope around my neck, slide up a chair so I can put you down on how I ended up with a front-row seat in baller hell. Check my shit before you wreck my shit. A life like mine don’t grow outta no fairy tale. I was just a hungry ghetto kid coming up with nothing but talent and ambition. Skills on the mic and moves on the court. But this is Harlem, yo, and the rules of the game was already written when I came on the scene. I mean, you gots to live dirty if you wanna surv
ive on these grimy urban streets. So I didn’t do nothing a whole lotta other heads didn’t do. Fought. Stole. Schemed. Played a little ball, shot a little dice, fucked a whole lot of honeys.

  Shit on a few friends.

  Take or be taken. Get yours or get got. It was the code of the streets and I’d lived by it. The way things was looking, I was prolly gone die by it too.

  Chapter 3

  Five years earlier…

  “Yo, motherfucker.” Pimp was sweating, leaning on me hard. “Smoove is family, man. Anything and everything for the family, remember? Plus, you owe me.”

  Thug-A-licious! Pimp-A-licious! Smoove-A-licious!

  We were standing in the lobby of Harlem Hospital. Fear was some shit I’d never seen on Pimp before, and it took me by surprise. Vyreen had just finished braiding my hair, and his call had caught me coming out of her crib with my ’rows looking tight. I knew shit was bad when he told me Smoove was in trouble and to meet him at the hospital.

  Thug-A-licious! Pimp-A-licious! Smoove-A-licious!

  Me, Pimp and Smoove, better known as the ’Licious Lovers, were recognized on the streets of New York as the baddest rap trio since Run-DMC and Jam Master Jay. We had battled and rapped on just about every hip-hop stage between Brooklyn and the Bronx, but I didn’t even wanna think about the kind of fire the three of us were facing right now.

  “Did you hear what the fuck I said?” Pimp elbowed me hard, spinning me around until I was facing him. “Rico’s joint got popped. Them fools dipped with the whole package! When G didn’t get paid he sent Pluto and his niggahs out to scoop up Smoove, and I just got the call. They gone smoke him, Thug. Them bitch motherfuckers is holding my brother in the G-Spot. Down in that motherfuckin’ Dungeon. And unless you and me make G’s package good, Smoove’s shit is done.”

  I didn’t wanna believe that shit.

  “How you know it’s really G who got him, Pimp? Rico and his boys is tryin’ to come up too, man. They coulda set all this shit up and be sitting on the package so Smoove can take the fall.”

  “Nah,” Pimp said, shaking his head and talking real fast. “I know the call was real ’cause Juicy seen Smoove. You know. Juicy from 136th Street. Jimmy’s fine-ass sister. She’s G’s piece of ass now, and one of my boys overheard her telling Jimmy what she saw. She said that big niggah Pluto was kicking the shit outta Smoove. G was too. Juicy said they stomped him down until he was bleeding, and then they threw him down the Dungeon steps.”

  “Slow the fuck down, man,” I told Pimp, trying to stall for time. I was feeling crazy rage behind Smoove getting snatched, but at the same time I was fighting the dread I felt rising in my stomach.

  “Let’s go somewhere and think this shit through. Cause that shit you talking is crazy, man. G knows Smoove is a straight soldier, and T.C. and Miss Lady treated me right all my life. They treated you and Smoove right too. Besides. That weight Smoove was holding was fat. T.C. and them ain’t got that kinda cheese laying around.”

  “They will later on tonight. Think, niggah. It’s Harlem Week. T.C.’s Sweep or Weep gambling spree kicks off tonight. The cash will be there, Thug, I’m telling you. We just gotta slide up in that joint and get it.”

  Thug-A-Licious! Pimp-A-Licious! Smoove-A-Licious!

  You know how they say that at the moment of your death your entire life flashes past your eyes? Well I wasn’t dying yet, but my past and my future was damn sure about to collide.

  What Pimp was asking me to do was crazy. Off the fuckin’ chain. Insane. He was scheming to stick up T.C. and Miss Lady’s pool hall so we could pay off G, but a playa like me was getting ready to go to college and put all that two-bit robbing and stealing shit behind me. And besides, how could a niggah betray T.C.? The realest cat in Harlem? A man who had fed me and put clothes on my back and spent his whole life elevating street kids like me?

  “Man, there’s gotta be another way, dawg. I know we gotta get Smoove back. That’s real. I’m down with that. But we gotta come up with a better plan.”

  Pimp looked at me coldly. “What, niggah? How long you been a bitch without me knowing it? Them motherfuckers up in T.C.’s Place carry more weight than your own blood? Who took care of that shooter for Precious? I did a bid for your bitch ass, remember? It was me your punk ass came crying to. Not no fuckin’ T.C.! You owe me, Thug. And we both owe Smoove. Everything for the family, motherfucker!”

  Everything for the family…. Everything for the family…. Everything for the family….

  My little sister Precious took a bullet the summer she turned ten.

  After all the pain and suffering that little girl had been through. After all the doctors and the hospitals and the chemotherapy and the sickness. A cute little girl who had just grew all of her hair back got erased in the blink of an eye.

  And that’s when Pimp proved what kind of cold-blooded street gangsta he really was….

  That bullet hit our family where it really hurt.

  I’d just won a “Battle of the MCs” contest and gave Noojie every dime I had so she could hook Precious’s shit up lovely, cause if anybody deserved a big-ass party, it was my little sister.

  Precious was happy as hell that day too. The doctors had just told us that all the cancer was gone out of her blood. She was in complete remission, and Noojie had invited all Precious’s little girlfriends from fifth grade over to celebrate her good news.

  “I’m gone live, y’all!” Precious went around dancing and yelling. “Hey, Dre! Guess what? I’m gonna live! Pimp! I’m gone live, man!”

  Me, Pimp, and Smoove were sitting outside on the stoop with Miss Carrie and her bony-ass mutt dog. When it was time for the kids to start leaving, Precious ran outside to tell all her friends good-bye.

  “Okay,” Noojie said when the last little girl was gone. “You had a good day, Precious, and you got a lotta nice friends. Come inside and wash all that cake off your face so you can go to bed. You ain’t sick no more so you gone be in school every day from now on.”

  “It’s not even late,” Precious had complained. “Look.” She pointed. “The streetlights ain’t even on yet!”

  Pimp had motioned for Noojie to leave her alone. He had a soft spot for Precious. We all did. She could twist every one of our gangsta asses around her little finger like a worm.

  “She cool, Aunt Noojie. Let her chill out here for a minute. She still feeling her good news. I’ll bring her inside when we get ready to bounce.”

  But life is flaky in the hood.

  It didn’t take long for good news to go bad.

  We kicked it on the stoop for a minute and Precious bounced a handball near the curb. She was singing one of them little-girl songs and her barrettes was bouncing around all over her head.

  “Have you ever-ever-ever in ya long-legged life, seen a long-legged sailor with a long-legged wife…”

  A black Jetta slipped up outta nowhere, crawling down the street like a snake.

  Shots rang out.

  Niggahs up and down the street started screaming and scattering in all directions.

  “Precious!”

  The skinny dog fell over first. His whole head was blown open.

  Old Miss Carrie got hit too. She was wiggling all over the ground holding her arm. Her dress was up, and her big white Fruit of the Loom panties was showing.

  More shots, and more screams.

  “Precious!” I hollered again and again. Me and Pimp both dove to get to her.

  My baby sister was on her knees. Staring at me with the ball in her hands. Her face was a big question mark when she said, “What, Dre?”

  Then her eyes rolled up, and she fell backwards.

  Pimp got to her first.

  “Oh shit!” he yelled, and carried her limp body over to the stoop. “Oh, shit! Thug! Oh motherfuckin’ shit! We need a fuckin’ ambulance, quick!”

  I bent over my little sister and looked at her closely. There was nothing wrong with Precious’s face. Her eyes was wide open, and she looked like she was
trying to smile. But her dress. Her little light blue party dress was getting all fucked up cause she was bleeding real bad from her stomach.

  “Nooooooooo!” I heard Noojie scream as she came running back out the building. She pushed me and Pimp out the way and fell to her knees beside Precious, yanking up her dress. She screamed even louder when she saw Precious’s blue and white polka-dot panties that was now soaked in red.

  “Y’all niggahs got my baby shot!” Noojie cried. She started scooping up the flowing blood with her hands, trying to push it back into Precious’s body.

  “All that fuckin’ cancer,” Noojie muttered as she worked like crazy. “All that fuckin’ cancer we just got outta my baby’s blood…”

  She scooped handfuls of blood in her palms and tried to pour it back into the bullet hole. “And now her blood just gone run out in the streets?”

  Everybody knew exactly who that bullet had been meant for.

  Pimp had been fuckin’ with them small-time hustlers downtown and stirring up hard feelings for months. Plus, some kid on the Lower East Side had accused him of taking some pussy from his thirteen-year-old sister, and them niggahs had sworn they were gonna get theirs back.

  “I got this, Thug,” Pimp had told me on the morning of Precious’s funeral. Noojie had gotten five hundred dollars from the Crime Victims Fund to bury her, and T.C. and Miss Lady had put up the rest. “I know the pussies who did it, and I know how to make ’em pay too.”

  The next night we rode over to a playground in the projects over on FDR Drive and lit that motherfucker up. Niggahs was crowded all around the benches and seesaws and shit conducting their business. Pimp led us up the walkway strapped like a motherfucker.

  With me and Smoove holding the cover, Pimp walked right up on a low-level fool they called Evil and popped him in the neck.

  Niggahs ran for cover and Pimp stood over Evil as he lay gurgling on the pavement. “Everything,” Pimp said, and looked at me. “For the motherfuckin’ family.”