Hood Rat

by K'wan

  “Baby boy, them little niggaz done came up. They got a single out right now that got the streets crazy.”

  Paul sucked his teeth and walked over to his closet. “There’s probably gonna be a bunch of young hood niggaz up in there.”

  Larry strode over to where Paul was standing and began thumbing through his shirts. Paul wasn’t really a dressy nigga, but he kept a few nice pieces from the days of his con game, which still fit.

  “Come on, dawg, stop shooting hole all in the shit and roll,” Larry said, eyeballing a green shirt of soft woven cotton. “You might even get some pussy ’cause you rolling with me.”

  Paul playfully shoved his friend on his way back to the small square that was designated the common area. He flopped onto his stool and reached for the clip that had burned out minutes prior. Examining the blunt momentarily, he pressed the coils of his flint lighter against it. The smoke stung his eyes, shoving a tear down the side of his nose. Paul held the smoke before releasing it into the air. His eyes took on a glassy look, then became very sharp. As if Larry wasn’t even in the room, Paul turned to his easel and stared at it.

  “Larry, you think you’re the fucking man,” Paul called over his shoulder, dipping a thin brush into a bit of violet goop. “I don’t need you to get no pussy, my game is tight.”

  “Nigga, yo game is stale!” Larry shouted, grabbing a box of Timberlands from the top of the closet. “Paul, we used to kill these hos, but since you got all loved the fuck up, you be on some bullshit.”

  “Nigga, ’cause I’m trying to be good to my shorty my game is stale?”

  Larry tossed the box and shirt on a swivel chair. “Ain’t nothing wrong with being good to your girl, but you still gotta recognize your base nature. Treat yaself to a little fun, kid.” Larry took the blunt from him. “You ain’t married yet.” Giving his buddy a wink, Larry began rummaging though the refrigerator for a beer.

  “Now you got jokes,” Paul said, accepting one of the two Heinekens that Larry had managed to scare up. “Just because I got a girl doesn’t mean that I’m not the same dude, and it sure as hell doesn’t mean I’m getting married.”

  “Paul, you my dude, I ain’t mad at you. I’m just saying, you gotta live a little. You can’t spend all your time up Marlene’s ass.”

  Paul was tight, but he tried not to show it. Every so often the fellas would tease him about the amount of time he spent with Marlene. He enjoyed spending time with his girl, but he had to admit that he missed hanging out with his boys. It had been ages since he had been out anywhere other than local spots.

  Paul sighed and grabbed the phone. “I’m not going to this party because you pressured me. I’m going because I feel like stepping out.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about,” Larry said proudly. “We gonna take it back to ’96!”

  “Larry, stop being such a fucking vulture,” Paul said, dialing the phone.

  “Who’re you calling?”

  “Marlene.”

  “Come on, man,” Larry said and threw his hands up. “Don’t check in with her.”

  “I’m not checking in. It’s called a courtesy call. Maybe when you get a girl you’ll learn to do the same.” Paul ignored Larry and waited for Marlene to pick up.

  * * *

  Marlene stood barefoot on the tiles of her kitchen wearing a pair of sweat shorts and a tank top. Her hands expertly brought the small knife down in even strokes, chopping a lemon. On the stove a pot of hot water for tea whistled, but still went unattended as Marlene chatted away with Audrey on her cordless.

  “Girl, I almost had to get black on this bitch in Target,” Audrey informed Marlene.

  Marlene shook her head as if Audrey could see her through the phone. “Audrey, you can’t ever go anywhere without getting into it with somebody. What done happened now?”

  “First of all, the line was long as hell. Now, if I was window shopping, there wouldn’t have been anybody there, but the one time I wanna go in and pick something up, a thousand other people get the same idea. So I wait on the line for almost forty-five minutes and when I get to the register, the little Puerto Rican bitch talking ’bout, ‘Sorry, no more cash. Credit only.’ Then when I tried to explain to her that I had been waiting for a long time, the little bitch had the nerve to catch an attitude, talking about it wasn’t her problem.”

  “What did you end up doing?” Marlene asked, finally removing the pot from the stove.

  “What do you think I ended up doing?” Audrey asked, as if Marlene shouldn’t have had to. “I raised so much hell up in there that they finally got the manager to come out and handle my purchase. I tried to get them to knock something off the price for my trouble, but they weren’t trying to go that far.”

  “Audrey why you gotta be so damn black all the time?” Marlene joked.

  “Fuck that. She should learn some damn courtesy. If you don’t like your job, find another one. Don’t be giving the customers no attitude.”

  “I know that’s right,” Marlene agreed, making her self a cup of tea.

  “So what you doing tonight?”

  Marlene sipped the brew and frowned. “Nothing much,” she said, adding two more scoops of sugar. “I’ll probably kick back and watch a DVD.”

  “The story of your life. You need to come out with us,” Audrey suggested.

  “Where are you heifers going?”

  “The marketing firm up the street from us is having some kind of function at the Hammerstein. I went to one of their events last year and it was off the hook. Let’s go get drunk and talk about people.” Audrey laughed.

  “I don’t know if I feel like partying tonight. Besides, I don’t know if Paul is coming by or not.”

  “Marlene, you need to quit. You haven’t been out in a while and you plan on spending your night sitting by the phone waiting to see if Paul calls?”

  “I ain’t waiting for him to call, but we were supposed to do something this weekend, we just haven’t decided which day.”

  Audrey sucked her teeth. “Please, you know how niggaz do on a Friday night. He’s probably gonna go out and get drunk with his degenerate-ass friends looking at ass.”

  “You’re so extra, Audrey.”

  “I’m not extra, I’m real. The weather is nice and it’s mad parties popping off around the city. Paul spends time with you so he can build up his credit. If he spends a weekend with you when there’s nothing going on, he knows he’s free to go out on a weekend when it’s popping. Marlene, men are like wolves, they’re always gonna need time to prowl.”

  “Audrey, contrary to what you might think, Paul enjoys spending time with me,” Marlene spat, “and furthermore, I know that I ain’t gotta watch him like some of these muthafuckas.”

  “That’s something that I could argue, but I’m not going to. Come out with us, Mar. We can hit the party for drinks, then go for a bite afterward. We can make a girls’ night of it.” When Audrey noticed that Marlene was still reluctant, she added, “Vincent is gonna be there.” This got Marlene’s attention.

  Vincent Gold was one of the VPs at the Rothstein firm, which was the company hosting the party. He was six-five with hazelnut skin and caramel brown eyes. For the last year or so, he had been trying to get at Marlene, but she wasn’t trying to take their relationship beyond a professional level. Not that it wasn’t a tempting offer; he was gorgeous, gainfully employed, and about something. Any woman would’ve been lucky to have him. Marlene was loyal to Paul, though. He might not have been all the things that Vincent Gold was, but he was hers.

  She composed herself and got back with Audrey. “So what, is that supposed to make me jump out the window and go? You know I got a man, Audrey, so don’t go there with me.”

  “Whatever, Mar. So you gonna come out with us or not?”

  Before Marlene could answer, the other line beeped on her cell. A quick glance at the number revealed that it was Paul. “Audrey, I’ll call you back. My boo is on the other line.”

  “Whatever
, sprung ass,” Audrey said, hanging up.

  “Hey, baby,” Marlene answered when she clicked over. It only took a matter of seconds before her angelic smile melted into a frown. Paul had just broken the news to her that he and Larry were going out and she wasn’t happy with it. Though Marlene was irked, she knew better than to let Paul know it. She was seasoned in life and had to maintain her composure at all times.

  “Okay, baby, I understand,” she lied.

  “I knew you would, boo,” Paul said. “I probably won’t be out that long. Me and Larry are gonna go shoot pool and maybe have a few drinks. If you’re still up, I might come out there when it’s over.”

  “Don’t inconvenience yourself over me,” she said, a little sharper than she had intended. “I don’t want you traveling all this way on the late night. Do you and we’ll talk in the morning.” Before Paul could respond, Marlene hung up.

  For a little over five minutes, Marlene just stood in her kitchen staring straight ahead. Audrey’s words replayed in her head and stunk like a hot pin. It wasn’t the fact that she said it, but the fact that someone else could be allowed to put doubt in her mind. Marlene tossed her cup of tea in the sink, deciding that she was too far gone to be soothed by drinking herbs. Instead, she grabbed her pack of Bambu papers and walked toward her bedroom. As she thumbed through her massive walk-in closet, she decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander.

  Part Two

  One Hell of a Night

  17

  By the time the girls arrived at Exit, the line had already began to snake up the block. Teenage boys and girls hustled up and down the streets wearing Bad Blood paraphernalia and brandishing picket signs advertising their latest single “Slap Ya Self.” The sidewalk was crowded with people of all ages and social statuses buzzing about the highly anticipated performance. It seemed like the hometown boys were gonna make good.

  The girls were out to get it that night, dressed to turn heads. Rhonda wore a pair of tight-fitting jeans and a spandex shirt with the word “freak” stretching across her large breasts. Reese was also doing her thing in a denim dress and high-heeled shoes. Guys looked their way as they stepped onto the curb, but Billy and Yoshi were the real showstoppers.

  The black dress that Yoshi had bought for Billy hugged her like a second skin. It dipped low in the front, exposing the tops of her breasts, and clung around the hips. Her hair was done up in a fresh wash and set, hanging straight down her back and slightly curled at the ends. As she passed a guy they knew from the block, he tried to holla, not even realizing it was her.

  Yoshi was over the top, as usual. The tight leather shorts she wore hugged her ass and hips, showing just a little cheek at the bottom. The top she wore was completely see-through with floral patterns. The only thing that kept the whole world from seeing her breasts was the short leather vest she wore. Both guys’ and girls’ mouths hung open as she sauntered toward the club.

  “You see all these muthafuckas out here?” Billy asked, trying to ignore the uncomfortable looks she was getting.

  “Looks like everybody turned out for Bad Blood’s performance,” Reese said.

  “I knew we should’ve gotten here earlier, fucking with your slow ass, Reese,” Rhonda said with attitude.

  “Me? If you didn’t have me go home with you first, I wouldn’t have taken so long to get dressed.”

  “Well, I ain’t trying to wait wit’ all these thirsty-ass niggaz. By the time we get in the open bar is gonna be over.”

  Yoshi scanned the front of the club until she spotted who she was looking for. “We might not have to,” she said, heading toward the entrance. The other three girls followed closely behind.

  Yoshi brushed past the people standing on the line as if she didn’t even notice them. A few chicks shot her dirty looks. One girl with a bad weave even went as far as to say, “Who does that bitch think she is?” Yoshi ignored the bum bitch and continued toward the door, parting the rest of the crowd like the Red Sea. The way she carried herself, you could tell she was someone important.

  A hulk of a man stood at the door, checking IDs and hurting the feelings of anyone who didn’t fit the criteria of what they deemed acceptable by turning them away. When Yoshi and her crew approached, his face took on a hard edge, but softened when he made out the features of the light-skinned dime leading the pack.

  “China, what’s hood, boo?” He greeted her with a smile that lacked a tooth in the top front.

  “Ain’t nothing, Bear. How you?” Yoshi returned his smile.

  “Can’t complain. Say, I haven’t seen you at the Wild West in a while.”

  “I stopped going since the crowd slacked off. All my regulars can catch me at the Lady.”

  “That’s what’s up. I gotta come through there and catch the show.” Bear finally noticed the girls with Yoshi anxiously looking at the front door. “You girls going in?”

  “Yeah, but the line is kinda long,” Yoshi said, giving him the puppy dog eyes.

  Bear’s crusty lips parted into a broad smile. “China, you know I ain’t gonna make you wait on no line, you and ya girls just go on in.” He unclamped the barrier and held it for them to enter.

  “Thank you, Bear,” Yoshi said, kissing him on the cheek. Giving the cackling girls on the line a fuck-you look, she and her friends walked past through the velvet rope.

  No sooner than they’d gotten inside the club, they were assaulted by the stench of musk and a god-awful heat. Even with it being almost pitch black inside, the walls were still sweating. Quite a few heads turned when the quartet stepped out on the floor. With some effort, they managed to squeeze their way over to the bar. Rhonda bumped and shoved her way into a corner, where they all flocked over and ordered their drinks.

  “Yo, it’s popping in here,” Rhonda said, looking around at the people assembled to support the local group. “I’m gonna get pissy drunk and let one of these niggaz hold something.”

  “I don’t think it’s a nigga in here that ain’t held your goods,” Yoshi said.

  “Don’t hate, bitch. Especially with the sign on your pussy that says ‘Two-for-one on the weekends.’”

  “Say what you want, but my bank account ain’t never in the red, welfare baby.”

  “Can’t y’all two ever go anywhere without showing your asses?” Billy asked.

  “Oh, shut up, Billy. You think you’re the shit in your little dress. Hell, you almost look like a girl for once.” Rhonda looked her up and down.

  “Rhonda, you know I ain’t even the one,” Billy said, giving her a look that let her know it wouldn’t take much for her to come out of the heeled shoes she was wearing and get it popping. Before the argument could escalate further, the bartender brought their drinks over. When Billy went to tip, the bartender he waved her off, letting her know that the gentleman at the end of the bar had already taken care of Him. Billy looked in the direction in which he pointed and was surprised at who she saw making his way toward them.

  “Damn, you see that guy?” Reese asked, watching the man approach.

  “Do I? I’m about to make that nigga my next baby daddy,” Rhonda said, adjusting her bra so her breasts stood up more.

  The young man continued making his way in their direction. As the lights flickered, his chocolate skin seemed to melt in and out of the crowd. In the dim club you couldn’t tell where his black silk Armani shirt ended and his skin began. With a hungry glare and a confident smile, he brushed his way over to where the girls were standing. When he had made it to their little clearing, Crazy Eight stepped in front of him.

  “Ladies, what it is?” Eight said, tugging the collar of his JCPenney’s suit.

  “Oh, hell nah!” Rhonda threw her hands up.

  “Crazy Eight, get your ass out the way.” Reese shoved him.

  He caught his balance and looked down at the girl. “What the hell is wrong with you? Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to lay hands on a pimp?”

  “So you’re a pimp now?” Billy a
sked, already knowing that Crazy Eight was full of shit.

  “I’ve been pimping since I was ten. My daddy was a pimp and my mama was a ho. Get it right.”

  Rhonda dipped her hand into her bra and took a step toward the man. “Eight, if you don’t get your ass away from over here, you’re gonna be a sorry yellow nigga.”

  Eight, not wanting to call her bluff, made his exit. “I ain’t wanna be over here anyway, you hos ain’t got no class,” Eight called over his shoulder.

  When Rhonda finally managed to get rid of Eight, she looked back in the direction that the stranger had been approaching from, but to her disappointment he was gone. She scanned the crowd frantically, but couldn’t locate him. When she turned back around to express her displeasure to her crew, her stomach sank. The stranger had reappeared and was breathing heavily on Billy.

  * * *

  Jah moved swiftly around the corner, keeping his head low and his hands in the pockets of the light leather jacket he was wearing. Spooky was supposed to roll to the club with him, but had gotten caught up with some baby mama drama at the last minute. That was one of the many reasons that Jah was happy he didn’t have any kids. The new chain he had bought swung heavily around his neck every time he took a step. A few chicks sized him up, but he wasn’t trying to stop and kick game. The last thing he wanted was to be caught slipping on a dark-ass street. Once he was safely inside the club, he could really get his swerve on. When Jah got to the front of the club, he was immediately spotted by Bear. The bouncer gave him a distrustful glare and mumbled something under his breath. Jah gave one last look around and approached the club.

  “’Sup, shorty?” Bear said, looking down at the much-shorter Jah.

  Jah watched a couple enter the club and turned his attention back to Bear. “Trying to get my swerve on like everybody else.”

  Bear looked Jah up and down and noticed that his shirt didn’t set right on one side. He had been doing his job for too long not to know when somebody was holding. “You looking a little heavy there.” He nodded at the very slight impression in Jah’s shirt.