by K'wan
“You know I only fuck with the best, man.” Ice patted Larry on the back. “For a few dollars, you can spend some time with her. What do ya say, baby.” He turned to Spice. “You think you might be able to handle my man Larry here?”
Spice walked over, slow and seductively. She ran her hands from the top of Larry’s head down to his chest. With her other hand, she gently caressed him through his jeans. “Yeah, I might be able to do something with him.”
“What ya know about it, nigga?” Ice crossed his arms over his eighteen-karat gold cross.
“I wish I could, Ice. But I ain’t got the kind of money to cover one of your bitches,” Larry copped out.
“Come on, nigga. Since you and Paul is peoples, I’ll let you get the family discount. Give me a buck and you can take this bitch somewhere and nasty up her pussy.”
“Next time, daddy.”
Black Ice shrugged his thin shoulders. “Suit yourself. Get back in the car, Spice.” The young whore did as she was told. As she was climbing into the back of the car, her short skirt rode up, exposing her entire pussy to the three men assembled. Paul just sighed and tried to ignore the erection in his pants.
* * *
Rhonda, Jean, Reese, and Billy strolled through the park, talking shit and sipping nut crackers. They had originally planned on going to the liquor store, but decided that it was too warm to drink hard.
“These shits ain’t even strong,” Rhonda complained, swishing the ice around in her cup. “That bitch is falling off.”
“Shit, mine is strong enough,” Reese said, sipping her drink.
“I need something harder than this. Let’s go to the liquor store like we planned. I need some Hennessy in my life.”
“Rhonda, you must be out of your mind. I ain’t trying to drink nut crackers and Henny back to back,” Billy said.
“Youse about a punk bitch, Billy.” Rhonda waved her off. “With four of us on a pint, we’ll only get buzzed.”
Crazy Eight pedaled over to the girls and looped them once. He had a crusty-looking blunt tucked behind his ear and a half-smoked cigarette dangling between his lips. “Ladies,” he sang, skidding his bike, “what’s good?”
“Definitely not your silly ass.” Rhonda sucked her teeth.
“Stop acting like that, ma, and recognize game when you see it,” Eight said confidently.
Rhonda looked at her girls to make sure her ears weren’t playing tricks on her. “Is this nigga serious? Crazy Eight, you need to get your bootleg CD-selling ass outta here before it be some shit.”
“Laugh all you want, boo, but a nigga is on his way to doing big things,” he said, removing one of the CDs from his dirty knapsack. “I’m selling these shits for ten dollars a whop, but since you ladies are so lovely, I’ll let it go for five.” He gave them a yellow-toothed smile, which caused all the girls to laugh.
“Eight, we don’t wanna buy no CDs,” Billy said politely.
“A’ight, so I’ll set ’em out for three,” Eight negotiated.
“Nigga, we don’t want no CDs!” Rhonda barked.
Eight’s eyes took on a great sadness, then anger. “Word, you ain’t got no love for my work? Bet you’ll be on my dick when you see me at the Grammys.” He gave her the finger and pedaled off.
“Fuck you, you dirtball muthafucka! You need to go wash your ass!” Rhonda tried to go after him, but Billy and Reese restrained her. “I hate that muthafucka.”
“Yo, it’s some bad bitches out here!” Jean proclaimed, not seeming to realize that Rhonda was about to go on the warpath seconds prior.
“Hold that shit down, Jean. If you wanna chase pussy, take your ass to the other side of the park. Don’t bring that kind of attention over here,” Reese warned her.
“Look, somebody walk with me to the liquor store,” Rhonda said.
“I wanna catch the game,” Billy said.
“Me, too,” Jean added.
“I’ll walk with you.” Reese cut her eyes at the two girls.
Rhonda started toward the park exit with Reese and called over her shoulder, “Don’t look to put you nasty-ass mouths on the bottle if you ain’t trying to walk.”
They had just about made it to the corner when Rhonda’s phone rang. She looked at her caller ID to make sure it was someone she felt like speaking to, then answered, “What’s up, bitch?”
“Shit, out here on the ave,” Yoshi responded on the other end. “Where y’all at?”
“Kingdome, trying to see what’s up with these sorry-ass niggaz.”
“I’m out here, too. I rode down with Scooter on his new bike.”
“I don’t know how you fuck with those things. I’m scared to death to get on a bike,” Rhonda told her.
“Shit, if you was fucking with a nigga who handle bread like Scooter, you’d be on a bike too, bitch.” The two girls laughed. “But yo, check this shit. I just seen that nigga Paul.”
“Where you seen him at?” Rhonda asked, trying to hide her excitement.
“On Fourteenth. He right in front of the liquor store with Larry and Ice. I ain’t know Paul fucked with that pimping ass nigga like that?”
“You know Paul know some of everybody, girl.”
“Yeah, he’s real popular these days. You should’ve seen how Ice’s hos were smiling all up in his face,” Yoshi taunted.
“Fucking jump-off-ass nigga. I’m ’bout to walk over there.”
“A’ight. Let me see what’s up with this nigga, and I’ll probably walk over there. Give me about fifteen minutes. If you’re gonna get stupid, call my phone.”
“I ain’t gonna get stupid, I’m just gonna get him to buy the bottle.”
“Oh, Lord. If that’s the case, I’ll be there in ten.”
* * *
Paul was leaning against a parking meter, discussing a mural that Ice wanted him to do on his living room wall, when his phone rang. When he heard the lyrics to Three 6 Mafia’s “Baby Mama,” he knew who it was without looking. Letting out a long sigh, he picked up the phone.
“Hello.”
“What’s good, Paul? Where you at?” Rhonda questioned.
“I’m in my skin,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“Don’t be fucking funny, nigga. I was just calling to see what you were doing.”
“Me and Larry are kicking it. What’s up?”
“Nothing, just wondered if you felt like chilling?”
“Nah, I’m good. Besides, I ain’t coming through the projects till later on. I’m handling some business right now.”
“How’re you handling business, standing in front of the liquor store?”
“What the fuck, are you spying on me?” He looked around nervously.
“You know I always got my eye on you, baby daddy.” She blew him a kiss and hung up.
* * *
“That girl is asking for trouble,” Billy said, shaking her head.
“Yo, ya friends be on some real chickenhead shit,” Jean said.
“Don’t be trying to dis my girls, Jean.”
“It’s the truth and you know it, Billy. That boy is over there minding his business and Rhonda is gonna fuck with him for no reason.”
“Well, that’s between her and her baby daddy. Rhonda and Paul have always had a love/hate relationship.”
“I’d hate that bitch, too, if I was stupid enough to have a baby by her,” Jean told her.
“Well, you don’t have a baby by her, so mind your business. Now, let’s see if we can catch some of this game,” Billy said, heading into the projects.
There were people for as far as the eye could see. Some were watching the game, but most were just getting their stunt on. Over near the end of the parking lot, Billy spotted a familiar face. Teddy was leaning against the gate talking to a girl who looked like she couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
“Oh, shit.” Billy tapped Jean and nodded in Teddy’s direction.
“Who’s that?” Jean asked.
“That old ma
rried nigga that Reese is fucking,” Billy replied.
Jean frowned. “Married? Does the bullshit ever end?”
“I’m ’bout to call Reese and let her know what the hell this snake is up to,” Billy said, pulling out her phone.
“That might have to wait. She’s got her hands full right now.” Jean pointed across the street.
Billy looked over by the liquor store where a small crowd was gathering and all she could say was, “Damn!”
* * *
When Rhonda and Reese got across the ave, Paul was standing by a tricked-out Caddy, talking to Ice and two of his girls. Her anger immediately welled up, seeing him out there smiling with the two pretty girls. Though she wasn’t with Paul, she couldn’t stand to see him around another female. She decided to crash the party and make her presence felt.
“What’s good, y’all?” Rhonda said, stepping on the curb.
When Paul turned around and saw her, his whole mood changed. He tried his best to be cool with Rhonda for the sake of P.J., but they never could sit horses.
“‘Sup,” he said, uninterested.
“Shit, hello to you, too.” She stepped right into his and Ice’s space, disregarding the conversation they were having. “You ain’t gonna introduce your baby mama to your little friends, Paul?”
“Ain’t nobody here that you got a reason to meet, Rhonda. I’ll get with you in a little while.” Paul turned his back on her and tried to resume his conversation with Black Ice.
“Nigga, don’t be trying to style on me for these hos!” Rhonda raised her voice.
“These Harlem bitches got me fucked up!” Passion spoke up. She was another of Ice’s hos who were present. “Who is this little black bitch talking to?”
“If the dick fits in your mouth, suck it, bitch!” Reese spat.
“Oh, I got your bitch right here!” Passion said, advancing on Reese. Passion was about five foot eleven and weighed 170-something, so it took the combined efforts of Ice and one of his other women to hold her back.
“Why don’t y’all go somewhere with that shit,” Paul said, stepping between the warring parties.
“Fuck you, Paul. That bitch shouldn’t have come out her mouth!” Rhonda shouted, way louder than she had to.
Paul turned to Ice. “Yo, I’m sorry about this shit, Ice. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Ain’t nothing, baby. We’re all gentlemen here.” Ice brushed his shoulder off.
Paul looked at Rhonda and had to restrain himself from saying something vicious to her. Instead, he tapped Larry and motioned for them to keep it moving. He got about three feet and Rhonda was right on his heels.
“Nigga, don’t be walking away from me!” She ran up on him.
“Rhonda, I ain’t trying to do this with you. Just leave me alone.”
“See, that’s your problem. You can’t take me, and that’s why you couldn’t fuck with me. Tell the truth, Paul. I was too much woman for you, huh?”
That drew a few snickers from the onlookers, but Paul didn’t feed into it. “Rhonda, why don’t you go play in traffic?” Paul turned to walk away, but she wouldn’t have it.
Rhonda grabbed him by the neckline of his shirt. “I said, don’t walk away from me!” Using both hands, she tore Paul’s shirt clean off his back.
The whole corner roared with laughter. Paul looked like a complete ass, standing there in his tank top, with strips of his shirt hanging off him. Rhonda stood there smiling, but her face went slack when she saw the fire raging in his eyes. As quick as lightning, Paul slapped the shit out of Rhonda. She spun around twice and collapsed, holding her cheek.
“Bitch, what the fuck is wrong with you? I’ll murder your chickenhead ass out here!” he bellowed. He tried to move in for the kill, but Larry grabbed him about the waist.
“Be easy, my nigga,” Larry whispered in his ear.
“Fuck that, Larry. I’m tired of this bitch!”
“That’s my cue to leave,” Ice said, shooing his women back into the car. “I’ll get wit’ you, cat daddy. I don’t need this kind of heat.” Ice hopped into his Caddy and spun off.
“Nigga, why you hit her like that?” Reese jumped in Paul’s face. When she saw the madness in his eyes, she backed up.
“Fuck you, Paul!” Rhonda screamed, while Reese tried to help her up. “That’s the last time you’re gonna put your fucking hands on me. I’m taking P.J. and leaving. You ain’t never gonna see your seed, muthafucka!”
“You threatening me, bitch!” Paul struggled against Larry’s grip, but he held fast.
“Reese, why don’t you take your friend and get up out of here?” Larry pleaded.
“Fuck that, he shouldn’t have hit her!”
“That’s a’ight, nigga. You gonna get yours,” Rhonda threatened, wiping her clothes off.
“Get whoever you want, bitch. When I’m done with him, I’m gonna put something hot in your ass!” Paul snarled.
“Watch your mouth, kid, there’re people out here,” Larry warned. He looked up the block and saw two uniformed cops making their way through the crowd. “Time to go.” He tapped Paul and nodded up the block. Paul was angry, but he wasn’t stupid. The two of them made hurried steps across the street and disappeared into the projects.
* * *
“What the fuck was that all about?” Billy asked.
“Paul clocked her again,” Yoshi volunteered.
“What the fuck set him off?” Billy handed Rhonda a paper towel.
“Yo, I was just going to the liquor store and this nigga started spazzing,” Rhonda lied. “He was out there trying to stunt for Larry and that pimp-ass nigga Ice.”
“If I was you, I’d call the police on that muthafucka,” Reese said. “I wouldn’t have no nigga putting his hands on me.”
“Reese, why don’t you stop instigating,” Billy said. “You wasn’t talking that shit when Bone used to put his foot in your ass.”
“Fuck you, Billy. This ain’t about me.”
“You know damn well Rhonda and Paul will be fighting today and friends tomorrow. Don’t try to add fire to the shit.”
“Nah, I ain’t gonna call the police, but I’m gonna fix that nigga,” Rhonda plotted. “Paul is gonna learn just what kind of bitch his baby mama is.”
5
The sun had dipped below the shoreline of the Hudson River, bringing the temperature down with it, but that still didn’t stop the action on the busy streets of Harlem. The popular avenues, such as Lenox, Seventh, and Eighth, were still buzzing with people, and police. The Beast always patrolled Harlem in the summer, like tourists on the boardwalk, trying to catch somebody dirty or harass someone minding their own business in search of the all-demanding quota set forth by the mayor and his henchmen.
On the side of the bodega on 142nd and Lenox, a group of young men stood around shooting dice. Open containers sat on the ground and atop cars, with the sweet smell of weed smoke lingering like an unseasonable fog. Though all the players wore smiles and laughed good-naturedly, there was plenty of larceny present, each man wanting to relieve the others of whatever cash, or in some cases jewels, that they were willing to play for. A few buildings over sat the governing chickenhead council of those parts, doing what they did best: killing time.
Yoshi, Rhonda, and Reese sat on the stoop of a slightly dilapidated building, drinking cognac from foam cups and swapping stories with some of the locals. The excitement of that afternoon had come and gone, giving away to the anticipation of what the night might bring. If you played the hood long enough, you were bound to see something noteworthy.
“Yo, my ass is sore as hell from riding that motorcycle all day,” Yoshi said, massaging her thighs.
“Either that, or letting Scooter pound you in your shit box,” Reese snickered.
“Fuck you, Reese. You always got some slick shit to say. Don’t act like you ain’t never take it in the ass, bitch.”
“That was only once and I didn’t like it, ho,” Reese lied. Truth be told, she took
it in the ass from time to time, depending on whom she was with and what she thought the act could get her. Reese knew that she wasn’t as pretty as Yoshi or Billy, and hardly as cunning as Rhonda, so she had to get it however she could. Young men traded stories about her on a regular basis, but she chalked it up as taking one for the team.
“Where the hell is Billy?” Rhonda asked, taking a huge gulp of her drink. The liquor caused her eyes to water, but she held it like a true soldier. Rhonda could outdrink all of her girls and a few guys they knew.
“She was supposed to be dropping Jean off downtown and coming right back,” Yoshi said.
“They’re probably somewhere licking each other’s asses,” Reese said scornfully.
“Yo, y’all really think Billy get down like that?” Yoshi asked.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Rhonda answered. “She sure as hell dresses like a dyke. When is the last time you seen her slide with somebody or heard about a nigga hitting that?”
“I ain’t seen Billy with a dude since Sol, God bless,” Reese said.
“She ain’t been the same since that nigga got killed,” Yoshi recalled.
Sol had been a local knucklehead who they had gone to school with. He fashioned himself a pretty boy and his mind was constantly on his paper. He and Billy had hooked up during high school and had a romance straight out of a music video. They could often be seen hugged up on the block or shooting hoops in the park. One night after Sol had dropped Billy off in the projects, some stick-up kids approached him and demanded his chain. Sol, being a true soldier, refused to part with the showpiece. For his insolence, they put two in his melon and took it anyway. Billy wore black for damn near six months after his murder. She hadn’t been quite the same since.
“These Harlem niggaz ain’t nothing but trouble.” Reese shook her head.
“Speaking of trouble.” Rhonda nodded up the block.
The young man who was heading in their direction had a baby face and a slim build. His hair was nappy and wild, but freshly shaped up around the edges. He had a confident swagger and murderous eyes. Young Jah was the type of kid who your parents warned you never to bring home. He was a good dude to those he was cool with and a headache to those he wasn’t.
