Hood Rat

by K'wan

  “Reese, I know you hear me!” Sharon shouted.

  “I’m using the bathroom, what the hell do you want?” Reese shot back.

  “Someone’s on the phone for you.”

  Reese took a moment and leaned against the bathroom door. Her head was spinning and she felt sick as a dog. The last thing she wanted was to talk to someone on the phone. Pulling her towel around herself, she opened the door.

  Sharon stood there, looking like a miniature version of their mother, hair braded into two pigtails. She was a plump preteenager, with big brown eyes and smooth chocolate skin. Of all her siblings, she and Sharon butted heads the most. It was probably because their personalities were so similar. Much like Reese, Sharon thought she knew everything.

  “You know how long I’ve been knocking on this door?” Sharon asked, holding the phone out to Reese. Reese took the phone and slammed the door without even acknowledging her sister’s question.

  “Hello,” Reese said, placing her still-wet ear against the receiver of the cordless.

  “What’s up, baby,” a masculine voice said. Even if she hadn’t heard the commotion in the background, she’d have known who it was on the line. Of all the people who could’ve called her that afternoon, Bone was the one she wanted to speak to least.

  Bone was Reese’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. He was a notorious knucklehead who was always looking for the big score. Bone and Reese had a relationship that was built on familiarity more than anything else. They had known each other since junior year in high school, and from the gate it was a love-hate relationship. He treated Reese fairly well, but couldn’t manage to keep his hands to himself. On more than one occasion, Bone had kicked her ass. It wasn’t unusual for her to pop up on the block with a busted lip or a pair of designer sunglasses to hide a black eye. When Bone got locked up, it was both a gift and a curse for Reese.

  He was currently sitting up on Riker’s Island, waiting to be transported upstate to serve out a three-to-nine for possession with intent to sell. He had made the foolish mistake of running a red light with two ounces of cocaine in the trunk of his car. Unfortunately for Reese, she happened to be a passenger in the car when he got stopped. She got a slap on the wrist and probation, but because of Bone’s record, they slammed him. She had to report to a probation officer once a month, but she had finally managed to get a break from the relationship. Reese bit back the curse that was trying to pop out and found her voice.

  “Hey,” she said dryly.

  “Damn, you don’t sound happy to hear from a nigga,” he said.

  “Sorry, I’m just going through a lot right now.”

  “You must be, because I ain’t seen you in almost two months. You don’t miss a nigga?”

  “It’s not that, Bone. Coming out to the island is an all-day process, and I be crazy busy. I’m gonna make it out to see you this week.”

  “That’s the same thing you said last week, and the week before,” he reminded her.

  “Bone, I told you that I be busy.”

  “Reese, I don’t know what the fuck you got going on out there in the world, but you better get your shit together and start showing a nigga some love.”

  “Bone, don’t start this shit today. I’m really not in the mood for it,” she snapped.

  “Bitch, I know you ain’t trying to get fly.”

  Reese held the phone away from her ear and looked at it before delivering her response. “Bone, you’ve got some nerve calling my house with this dumb shit. Nigga, you must’ve fell and bumped your head. I got a felony on my record fucking with you, yet I still keep money in your commissary and go through the headache of coming to visit you on the island.”

  “Reese, that’s your job!” Bone said in a very indignant tone. “I’m your man, so you’re supposed to hold me the fuck down while I’m in here.”

  “Bone, you seem to keep forgetting that I’m not the one who put you there. I have a life, and it doesn’t revolve around taking care of your grown ass. Press your mama about a damn visit.”

  “If I was on the streets you wouldn’t be popping that shit, ’cause I’d bust your fucking head open!” he raged.

  “Well, that’s something I won’t have to worry about anytime soon,” she taunted.

  “Reese, I’m gonna kill your ass!”

  “Bone, you ain’t gonna do shit, but try and keep one of them bulls from running up in your little shit box, you crack-slinging, jailbird muthafucka! Lose my number.” In the midst of Bone’s profanity-laced tirade, Reese pushed the phone’s off button. No sooner than she’d sat it down on the edge of the sink, it rang again.

  “Muthafucka, can’t you take a hint?!” Reese barked into the phone.

  “Damn, what he fuck did I do?” another male voice asked.

  “Teddy? Oh, I know damn well you ain’t on my line.”

  “Baby girl, let me explain…”

  “You ain’t got to explain shit, you child-molesting muthafucka. My girl told me she saw you hugged up on that little bitch in the park.”

  “Ma, that was my li’l cousin,” he protested.

  “You must think I was born on Stupid Avenue. Teddy, you a foul nigga. Oh, and while I’m thinking about it, tell your fat-ass wife that I’m gonna bust her shit when I catch her, since she wanna be throwing bottles at bitches. The only thing that saved her Slim Fast–drinking ass was the fact that she ran through the red light.”

  “Reese, I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

  “Teddy, you had everything to do with it. But you know what? I can’t blame anyone but myself,” she admitted. “I’m holding on to your fat ass like you about something instead of doing me.”

  “Don’t even play like that, you know you’re my girl,” he said, trying to soothe her.

  “What the fuck ever, Teddy. I’ve been blind this long, but now I can see the light. You ain’t shit, so you and that fat bitch can have each other.”

  “Yo, you talking real greasy right now.”

  “Yeah I am, but in a few minutes I won’t be able to talk at all. I got a real nigga over here about to put his dick in my mouth. And you know what? Since I am a bit thirsty, I think I’ll let him cum in my mouth,” she taunted him.

  “Bitch—”

  “I ain’t no bitch, you’re the bitch, Teddy. I hope you and your wife will be very happy together at fat camp. Go play in traffic, you bird-ass nigga!” Reese clicked off the phone. The conversation with Bone had had her uptight, but she felt much better after kicking Teddy’s ass to the curb.

  * * *

  Rhonda made her way up Lenox Avenue with all three of her children. Pooh skipped ahead, occasionally stopping to kick a can or a stray piece of trash. Rhonda called after him several times to slow down, but he paid her no mind. Alisha walked a few paces behind her mother, holding P.J.’s hand, who was struggling to keep up. Rhonda continued on her way, paying little attention to either of them.

  When they rounded the corner of 142nd, they bumped into a neighborhood girl named Verna. A black scarf was wrapped around her head, covering her shoulder-length hair, which she kept pinned up. Verna’s large ass was even more visible under her pajama pants because she wasn’t wearing underwear. She had the body of a porno star, but that was about all she had going for her. Her face could’ve been considered cute if it weren’t for the scar running from her temple to her cheek, and the lingering bruises that never seemed to heal from her many fights over the years. Verna was notorious throughout the streets of Harlem for her brutal knuckle game. There weren’t many chicks on the block who were foolish enough to try her.

  “What up, Rhonda,” Verna greeted her, sitting her grocery bag on the ground with a clank.

  “Damn, what’s all that?” Rhonda asked, nodding toward the heavy bag.

  “Shit, I had to go get some milk for Star. I missed my WIC recertification, so I gotta pay for this shit until they make me another appointment.”

  “Damn, I remember them days,” Rhonda recalled. “I’m glad
these little muthafuckas ain’t infants no more, I remember how high that milk was.”

  Verna lifted the bag. “You ain’t lying. These shits is five dollars a can. I can’t do much more of this.”

  As Rhonda and Verna continued their conversation, two girls came walking up the block, with a familiar-looking young man trailing them. From what Rhonda could tell, the young man was pleading with them about something, but the girls were ignoring him. One girl wore an indifferent face, while the other’s was twisted in anger. Rhonda had no idea who they were or what their intentions were, but Verna seemed to.

  “I know muthafucking well this nigga ain’t bring these bitches through my hood,” Verna whispered to Rhonda, tightening the grip on her plastic bag.

  “Who the fuck is they?” Rhonda asked, ready to ride out with her homegirl.

  “Don’t even worry about it, Rhonda. You got your kids with you. I got this.”

  “Ay yo, bitch. I need to holla at you!” the angry one barked.

  Verna tilted her head. “Bitch? Little girl, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”

  “I’m talking to the bitch that’s been tipping with my man,” the girl shot back.

  “I ain’t gonna be too many bitches, yo,” Verna said seriously.

  “Why don’t you cut this shit out,” the young man said, finally catching up.

  “I’ll deal with your ass in a minute,” the girl shouted at him. “Like I was saying,” she turned back to Verna, “I heard you’ve been creeping with my man.”

  “Did he tell you that?”

  “It ain’t important who told me that, what I’m trying to figure out is if you got a death wish, bitch.”

  Verna flexed her jaw. “You got one more time to call me a bitch and we’re gonna have a problem.”

  “Let me tell you something, bitch…” That was as far as the girl got. In a flash, Verna clobbered her with the bag. Cans of baby formula scattered all over the street as the girl staggered back. The second girl looked like she wanted to do something, so Rhonda caught her with a two-piece. Seeing the blood that was now running from her nose, the girl took off running before Rhonda could swing again.

  Verna picked up one of the loose cans from the ground and walked over to the angry girl, who was now lying on the ground, clutching her head. “You little bitches is always coming from up on the hill talking shit.” Verna hit her in the face with the can, breaking her nose. “You think about this ass whipping the next time you put your mouth in grown people’s business.” She whacked her again. “The dick was wack anyway.”

  “Yo, Verna, why you wildin’?” The young man snatched her up off his bloodied girlfriend. Without uttering a word, Verna spun on the young man and smashed the can into his jaw. The young man was out cold before he even hit the ground.

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Rhonda asked, panting.

  “Young bitches not knowing how to act over a piece of dick,” Verna said, gathering her cans of formula.

  Rhonda, not wanting to be around for the fallout, bid her friend good-bye and took her children up the block.

  * * *

  By the time Rhonda got to her mother’s building, news of the fight had already reached the stoop. Resting in a lawn chair, recounting an exaggerated version of what had happened, was Ms. Lulu. Lulu lived on the first floor, where she spent most of her time perched in the window smoking Camels. Not much went on that she didn’t see and relay to her seniors crew on the stoop.

  “Hey, y’all,” Rhonda greeted everyone on the stoop.

  “Hey, Rhonda.” Bernadine smiled, showing off her coffee-stained teeth. Bernadine didn’t live in the building, but spent most of her time sitting on its stoop.

  “Was you in that fight down the block?” Ms. Lulu squinted. She had horrible eyesight, but that still didn’t stop her from trying to catch any and everything that went on, and getting it all ass backward.

  “No, Ms. Lulu,” Rhonda lied.

  “I heard it was that Verna girl,” Ms. Yvonne added. Her wig sat at an odd angle on her head, but no one said anything. Even standing ten feet away Rhonda could smell the Captain Morgan rum on her breath. It wasn’t even midafternoon and the old woman had been sipping. It was what she, Ms. Lulu, and Bernadine did to pass the time.

  “I seen her whip two girls and a po-lice officer,” Ms. Lulu said.

  “You need to quit yo lying, Lu. You ain’t seen no such thing,” Bernadine disputed. “That cheap-ass wine you was sipping for breakfast got you seeing things, wit’ yo drunk ass.”

  “If that ain’t the damn pot. If I recall correctly, yo thirsty ass was sitting right beside me sipping.”

  “I had one damn drink and that was only half a cup.” Bernadine and Ms. Lulu went on like this all the time. When they’d been drinking, they were always going at it. On several occasions, they had even come to blows. But once sobriety hit, they continued as if nothing had ever happened. Rhonda caught a chill envisioning her and her crew in their places.

  “Anybody at my mom’s?” Rhonda asked.

  “I don’t know, I’m just coming out,” Ms. Yvonne said.

  “Ya sister Kelly was round here a while ago, but I ain’t seen ya mama today,” Ms. Lulu said.

  Rhonda immediately felt the urge to leave. Ever since they were teenagers, she and Kelly hadn’t gotten along. They were only two years apart, but had personalities like night and day. Kelly had gotten good grades and gone on to attend Spelman College before landing a job at a marketing firm downtown. She looked down her nose at Rhonda for the choices she had made in her life and made it a point to publicize it.

  “I see you got the children with you.” Bernadine smiled down at the trio. P.J. said “hi,” and Pooh waved, but Alisha just scowled. “You ain’t speaking today?” Bernadine asked Alisha.

  “I said hi,” Alisha said dryly.

  “Umm-hmm,” Ms. Lulu grumbled, staring at the child. She wanted to hop up from her chair and slap the shit out of the grown child, but she knew she couldn’t blame her too much. Children only knew what they learned from their parents, and Rhonda had been the same at that age.

  Trying to save face, Rhonda grabbed Alisha by the arm and shook her. “You better respect your elders, do you understand me?” The preteen nodded, but the anger in her face was apparent.

  A young man dressed in a lavender Polo shirt and denim shorts came walking out of the building. The sun danced off his waved-up black hair and bronze skin. A gold pinky ring adorned his left hand. The piece wasn’t gaudy, but tasteful. Pushing his blacked-out Prada sunglasses up on his nose, he gave the ladies on the stoop a radiant smile.

  “Hey, Kelvin.” Ms. Lulu touched his tattooed arm.

  “Hey, ma. How you doing?” Kelvin replied in an almost musical voice.

  “Where’s that nice car of yours?” Bernadine asked.

  “I had to get it serviced. I’m riding with a friend today.” As if on cue, another young man came walking out of the building. He was about nineteen if he was a day, with cherrywood skin and shiny black curls. He smiled at the women on the stoop and walked out to the curb.

  “You ain’t speaking today?” Kelvin asked Rhonda.

  “What up,” she said, very unenthused about seeing him. Kelvin was Rhonda’s younger brother and Kelly’s twin. For the most part, he and Rhonda got along, or at least better than she did with Kelly. She had asked herself time and again where they went wrong with him. She loved her little brother, but didn’t agree with his lifestyle. Now, Kelvin was a real street cat; she had even heard that he had a little spot on the Hill. Cats respected him in the hood, no matter what his “tastes” were.

  “Uncle Kel, let me get a dollar.” Alisha put one hand on her hip and extended the other one in anticipation.

  “Damn, I don’t even get a hello,” Kelvin joked, pulling out a knot of bills. He handed each of the kids a ten and rubbed Alisha’s head. “What you came to do, your usual?” he asked Rhonda sarcastically.

  “Don’t be funny,
Elton John,” she capped. “Let your sister hold something.”

  Kelvin rolled his eyes, chuckling. “There you go.”

  “What?”

  “Rhonda, you stay hitting a nigga up for bread. The worst part is, I know you’re out here catching ’em.”

  “What’re you talking about, Kel? I’m out here chilling.”

  “Rhonda, you act like I don’t know True is back in town. Your freak ass probably already hit him off.”

  “Forget you, Kel. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rhonda brushed him off. “So you gonna let me hold something or what?”

  “What you need?”

  “Like a hundred.”

  “You bugging, I ain’t giving you no hundred dollars.”

  “Come on, Kel. I gotta get the kids some sneakers.”

  “Tell their fathers to get them some sneakers. I buy the kids stuff all the time.”

  “A’ight, then let me hold fifty until I get my check,” she bargained.

  “Here, man,” he handed her a bill, “don’t bother me no more.”

  Rhonda kissed him on the cheek. “You know you love your sister.”

  “Here come Rita,” Ms. Lulu said, pointing up the street.

  Rhonda’s mother was walking up the block, carrying two shopping bags and a large purse. She bore a resemblance to Rhonda, but didn’t have her body and had Kelvin’s bronze skin. Her hair was cropped short on the sides and feathered on top. From behind her rimmed glasses, she examined Rhonda and Kelvin.

  “What y’all doing, loitering on my stoop?” Rita asked.

  “Ain’t nobody loitering, Ma. I was on my way out,” Kelvin said, joining his friend and heading toward their ride.

  “Why we gotta be loitering? I brought your grandkids to see you.” Rhonda smiled.

  Rita put her bags down and folded her arms. “Rhonda, you’re full of shit. I ain’t baby-sitting no kids. I just got off work and I’m tired as hell.”

  “Ma, I never ask you to watch them. I need to run to Two-fifth right quick. I’ll even bring you something back.”