Hood Rat

by K'wan

  “Come on, Bear. Why you giving me a hard time?”

  “Jah, you know damn well they don’t want no hammers inside this joint. You trying to make me lose my job?”

  “I would never jeopardize your job, Big Bear. Me and you too cool for that. I’m rolling solo tonight and you know how niggaz feel about me in these streets.” Jah nodded toward two cats on the line who were trying to act like they weren’t watching him. “Do ya boy this solid,” Jah said, slapping Bear’s palm and leaving a hundred-dollar bill in it.

  The bouncer eyed the bill in his palm and pretended to be pondering the idea. “A’ight, li’l nigga, but you better not start clowning up in here.”

  “Bear, you know me better than that. I’m just trying to fuck with some of these bitches,” Jah said, passing through the velvet rope. “Yo, come uptown and see me tomorrow and I’ll give you a good deal on this watch I came up on.”

  “A’ight, but don’t be trying to rob me on the price,” Bear warned him.

  “My dude, you just got me for a hundred cash. You got the best hand all day.” Jah gave him a nod and disappeared into the crowd.

  Bear grinned as he pocketed the hundred dollars Jah had given him. He felt like he had gotten over on Jah, but in actuality, the youngster didn’t give a fuck. The hundred dollars had come out of Slick’s pocket, so it wasn’t like Jah felt it. Besides, with the way niggaz had been acting on the streets, the hundred dollars for the insurance policy under his shirt amounted to money well spent.

  * * *

  Slick and his crew rolled to the spot G-style. He was dressed in a black suit, with a V-neck silk shirt and hard-bottom Stacey Adams. For the event, Slick had rented a black Infinity truck, also black to match his outfit, with custom rims. It had cost him a grip, but you couldn’t put a price on fashion. He jumped out of the backseat, looking every bit like a movie star coming out to greet his adoring public. The iced-out Jesus piece swayed from the end of his thirty-five-inch chain, in tune with his shoes clicking on the ground.

  “Yo, it’s mad bitches out here, kid,” Rel said, coming around the truck to stand next to Slick. Rel was a nigga who was getting money back in the days, but habitually going in and out of the prison system. His inability to get a handle on his drinking and drugging, thwarted every attempt he made to get back on his feet. Common sense dictated that if you kept fucking up at something, then maybe it wasn’t for you, but Rel wasn’t known for his common sense. He was hell-bent on getting it by any means necessary and this is why Slick kept him around.

  “You know Don B. and them niggaz attract the pigeons,” Groovy said, joining the two men. Groovy was Slick’s gunslinger. He was about nineteen years old and dying to make a name for himself in the game. His father was a spineless coward who served as an errand and whipping boy for Slick’s uncles. Groovy used his father as an example of how he wasn’t going to grow up, and went out of his way to insure he never wound up in that position. These two men were the core of Slick’s crew.

  “You niggaz just maintain your cool when we get up in there. We’re on some VIP shit tonight, so let’s act like it.”

  “You know I keep my cool at all times, Slick,” Rel said. “I was the coolest nigga on the block back in the days. I kept a bad bitch and a fresh knot every time you seen me. I been away for a minute, but the hood still recognize. I’m going in there on some mack don shit, baby. Any bitch I choose to lay this game on tonight should consider herself lucky.” He bust out into a snicker.

  Slick laughed along with his friend and shook his head. Rel would go on like this all the time, reminiscing about his days on top. Slick never had the heart to tell him that the song was over, so he let him live in the moment.

  “Yo, I got something on that kid who robbed Ralph’s punk ass,” Groovy remembered. Slick listened intently as he was given the rundown. “He calls himself Jah, at least that what Ralph knows him as. I asked around and his name is ringing off on some old Billy the Kid shit. He’s a young boy, but he’s carrying grown-man weight.”

  Groovy continued to tell Slick what he had learned about the young man named Jah and the more he talked, the bigger the ball of ice forming in Slick’s stomach got. Thanks to Ralph, he had a problem he didn’t need or want. He was sure that he had more guns and more soldiers than the youngster, and would eventually get to him, but how much would he lose in exchange? Knuckleheads like Jah didn’t think like rational people. They were impulsive and acted without thinking. It was sure to be a headache, but he’d have to deal with Jah eventually. As they walked toward the VIP line, Slick weighed the pros and cons of his predicament.

  * * *

  “Name?” Bear asked, looking at the three men standing outside the rope.

  “Slick,” the leader said casually.

  Bear glanced at his list. “Don’t see your name up here.”

  “Maybe you missed it, player. Why don’t you look again?” Slick said, a little more assertively.

  “And what was your name again?”

  Before Slick could open his mouth, Rel stepped up. “Yo, come on, man. This is Big Slick from uptown, stop acting like you don’t know.” His entire body language was hostile, changing the vibe of the conversation.

  Bear tucked the clipboard under his arm and stepped to Rel. “Shorty, who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? Yo duke, I’ll pound you the fuck out!”

  Seeing the situation about to get ugly, Slick stepped in the middle of the two men. “Easy, big man.” He laid a hand on Bear’s chest, which he slapped away. “We ain’t come here for that, my dude. My homegirl Ariel invited us down, and I wouldn’t let my peoples shit on her name by coming down here like that.”

  Bear slacked up a bit, but he let his angry glare linger on Rel longer than necessary. He looked at the list again and tapped a name with his finger. “Yeah, she put y’all niggaz under her comp. Give me twenty a piece,” Bear told them spitefully.

  Groovy frowned. “Twenty cash? I thought we was comped?”

  “She’s comped, you niggaz is guests.” Bear folded his arms and waited for their next move.

  Rel looked like he was about to start again, but Slick silenced him with a gesture. Slick dug in his pocket and reluctantly handed Bear sixty dollars. When they were being searched, the giant made sure he was extra rough with Rel, slamming his palm into his crotch and pushing him roughly when he was done. When the three men entered the party area, all the drama they’d gone through disappeared and there was only the stage.

  18

  Rhonda stood off to the side, looking like she wanted to be sick. This was hands down one of the finest men she had ever laid eyes on, but instead of her finding out how he liked his dick sucked, the stranger had passed her right by and was all up on Billy’s dyke ass. She couldn’t make the connection right off, but she headed over to where they were standing to find out.

  Billy closed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things, only to open them and find out she wasn’t. His breath smelled like apple tarts and Billy found herself suddenly craving sweets. “How’re you doing, Billy?” Marcus asked, standing close enough for Billy to feel his body heat.

  “Hi,” she said, trying to keep her nervousness from showing. Rhonda and Reese were staring at her, making the situation even more awkward. At the barbecue she had been confident, but in closed quarters she was choking.

  He leaned in close enough to Billy’s face to where their lips almost brushed. “Twice in the span of a few days has got to mean something.”

  “It means that the world is too small.” She placed a hand against his chest to define boundaries.

  “Marcus, get up off my cousin.” Yoshi swatted his arm playfully.

  “Yoshibelle, what’s good?” He hugged the smaller woman. “Cousin, huh? I should’ve known that you two shared genes.” He eyed Yoshi playfully.

  Billy looked from Marcus to Yoshi, and her face flashed defensiveness. “You two know each other?”

  “Marcus works over at Shooter’s. You know
I do them every other weekend,” Yoshi said, as if she should’ve known that.

  “Oh,” Billy said, trying to hide her embarrassment.

  “I should be asking where the hell the two of you met.” Yoshi shot Billy an accusing look.

  “At a barbecue,” Marcus spoke up. “Billy and I had a mutual friend and some common interests.”

  “Billy, you ain’t gonna introduce your peoples to your friends?” Rhonda butted in.

  Billy shot her a look, but didn’t press it. “Marcus, this is Rhonda and that’s Reese.” She nodded to Reese, who finger waved.

  “Hello,” he said politely, nodding at each girl. “So,” he turned back to Billy, “since you haven’t accepted my invitation to a drink at the club, could I buy you one here?”

  “No thank you,” Billy said, ignoring Rhonda, who was motioning for her to say yes.

  “Damn, you’re hard as nails,” he said, frowning a little. “I don’t want much from you, ma, just some conversation. As a matter of fact, bring ya homegirls. I got a table upstairs.”

  Billy looked at Yoshi, who nodded in approval. Reese just had a silly grin on her face, while Rhonda looked away. “A’ight, we’ll come up for a minute.”

  Marcus smiled, reminding Billy of a movie she had seen Blair Underwood in. “Right this way,” he said, parting the crowd for them.

  “Come on, y’all,” Billy said, following Marcus.

  “Nah, me and Reese are gonna walk around for a minute, we’ll meet you up there,” Rhonda said.

  “We are?” Reese asked, puzzled.

  “Yeah.”

  Yoshi shrugged and followed Billy. “Suit yourselves,” she called over her shoulder.

  Reese watched her friends disappear into the crowd, on their way to having untold fun, and couldn’t figure for the life of her why she was standing there with Rhonda. “What the fuck is your problem? I wanted to go to the VIP and get my drink on.”

  Rhonda jealously watched the backs of Yoshi’s and Billy’s heads as the handsome Marcus led them away. Her insides burned at the missed opportunity. Marcus was supposed to be her vic, and instead she took a backseat for Billy. Instead of going with the flow and backing her friend, she hated on her. “Fuck them bitches. I ain’t feel like being no fake hos anyway. You see the way Billy was all over that nigga?”

  “It looked the other way around to me,” Reese admitted.

  “Bitch, please, you didn’t peep that shit. Thirsty bitch was all up in this nigga’s space, rubbing on him and shit.”

  “Rhonda, I think you’re just tight because you didn’t get to try him.”

  “Fuck outta here, he wasn’t all that. Besides, I ain’t pressed for dick. Let’s move around and see who’s up in here.”

  Rhonda bumped her way through the crowd and Reese grudgingly followed. As they hustled across the dance floor, a sea of hands and arms reached out to detain them or just get a touch of their soft flesh. Though Rhonda and Reese weren’t as pretty or fair-skinned as the other girls, that didn’t mean they were tore up. They got their fair share of attention, too.

  As Rhonda bopped to the beat, a warm hand reached out and clamped over hers. Rhonda was about to get fly until she saw who was holding her. He was a dude who appeared to be in his late twenties, with a heavy Jesus piece around his neck. His swagger said that he might be worth a few dollars, so Rhonda decided to dance with him. Motioning for Reese to jump on his partner, Rhonda went in for the kill.

  * * *

  Slick momentarily lost his balance when Rhonda backed her big ass into him. He didn’t expect shorty to be so aggressive, but she came out ready to party. He grabbed her by the waist to bring her wild body movements under control and pressed his groin against her. Rhonda pushed him off and continued dancing. Several times Slick’s hands tried to roam over her and she had to fend him off. A little friendly palming of the ass was okay, but he was trying to sample all her goods.

  Reese wasn’t faring any better with Rel. Not only was he like an octopus, grabbing her everywhere she didn’t swat him, but he had absolutely no rhythm. His two-step was okay, but every time he tried to add something to the mix he ended up looking like the rusting Tin Man in The Wizard of Oz.

  “Slow down, playboy,” Reese told him, removing his hand from her ass.

  “Come on, shorty, stop acting like that,” Rel said, busting another stiff dance step. “We in here partying, act like you’re trying to have a good time.”

  “Yeah, that’s all good, but slow it up a little bit.”

  “Slow it up? Baby girl, life is too short to be slowing up, know what I mean? You gotta live in the moment, boo, and right now the moment is about us. A nigga know how to treat a lady. What you want, a little drink or something? Me and my niggaz is in here balling out of control, act like you know about us.”

  Reese stopped dancing. “Listen, I ain’t really trying to hear all that balling-out-of-control shit. I’m telling you to watch your hands. You act like you just came home or something.”

  Rel looked at her quizzically. “Shit, I did. A nigga just touched down ten months ago, know what I’m saying? I’m back on the streets about to take my rightful place at the head of the table. You don’t know who I be?”

  “Whatever.” Reese began walking away, not wanting to hear any more of his bullshit.

  “Oh, it’s like that?” Rel called after her. “That’s a’ight, shorty, you just made the worst decision of your life. You keep on stepping and I’m gonna go find me another bitch. One who knows how to act when she’s chose.”

  Ignoring Rel’s ranting, she made her way back toward the bar area. Rhonda was doing her thing, so she left her to handle it. She just hoped that the guy she was dancing with had more class than Rel. She ordered a Hennessy sour and waited patiently for the bartender to bring her drink. After about ten minutes, the girl wearing the too-short miniskirt set Reese’s drink down, along with her bill. When Reese looked at the total, she wished again that she’d gone with Yoshi and Billy.

  A commotion erupted off to Reese’s left, drawing the attention of everyone at the bar. Bright flashes of light danced throughout the dark room, while a few young girls shrieked. The crowd slowly began to part and snake a path in Reese’s direction. Squinting against the effects of the flashbulbs and strobe lights cutting the darkness, Reese was able to make out a face. The face was familiar to her, but she couldn’t think why. As he drew closer, with a small cluster of people in tow, Reese’s brain finally clicked. It was Jay from Don B’s suite.

  Jay had traded in his fitted cap for a bandanna advertising Bad Blood’s single. The platinum Rottweiler head, which was their crew’s trademark, hung around his neck like a guardian. He waved someone to follow and Reese’s heart began to pound because she knew who she would see momentarily. And big as life, there he was.

  Don B.’s St. Louis Cardinals hat was pulled low over his eyes, exposing only his squared jaw and goatee. A baseball jacket of the same team hung lazily off one shoulder as he stopped to hug a chickenhead who had jumped in his path. He and his entourage were heading in Reese’s direction, leaving her stuck like a deer in the headlights. Reese looked around frantically for somewhere to get low, but was boxed in by the people trying to catch a glimpse of Don B.

  The ghetto star’s eyes were masked by dark sunglasses, but Reese could’ve sworn he was looking right at her. Her heart began to race as Don B. closed the distance between them. Reese tried her best to look cool, but there was only so much cool she could muster standing directly in the entourage’s path. When Don B. was standing directly in front of Reese, she felt like she wanted to fall out. She searched her mind for something to say to him, but ended up not having to. Without so much as a “hello,” Don B. sidestepped her and continued on his way to the VIP section. Reese felt like a two-dollar whore watching his arrogant Harlem swagger carry him through the crowd and away from her.

  19

  Paul stood against the wall, sipping his drink and watching the scantily clad young ladie
s pass. He felt a little awkward, caught up in the crowd of partygoers, since it had been quite some time since he had been to a club. Larry was on the dance floor trying to make a baby with a dark-skinned chick wearing her hair in a twist. Busting into a series of moves, he proved that he was far more nimble than his size let on.

  Paul continued to bop his head to the beat and watch his friend enjoy himself. The scent of Glow by Jennifer Lopez intruded on Paul’s senses, taking him on a brief trip down memory lane. He had woken up to the scent of that mixed with sex on quite a few moments during a summer gone by. He only knew one girl who wore that fragrance and when he turned around, he found himself face to face with her.

  “Oh, shit!” Paul blurted out.

  Isabel was a short Puerto Rican girl with toned legs and a serious ass. She and Paul had had a one-night stand that lasted over a year right before he hooked up with Marlene. Whenever he and Isabel would hook up, they’d have wild drunk sex that was like nothing he had ever experienced. Isabel had a head game that a lot of chicks needed to study.

  “Long time, stranger,” Isabel said, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face.

  “What’s good, ma?” He pulled her close to him. “I see you changed your hair color.”

  “That isn’t all that’s changed,” she said, poking her chest out.

  At first he was confused, but upon closer examination he realized that her breasts were different. Back when he was hitting it she was about a B cup, but since then she had stepped it up to a high C. Paul tried to keep from staring at her ass in the tight-fitting dress she wore, but the fact that he knew what she looked like under it made it hard not to.

  “So who you in here with?” she asked, drawing his attention back to her exotic face.

  “My nigga Larry Love,” he said.

  “You still fucking with that fat muthafucka?”