by K'wan
“What’s wrong?” Reese asked, noticing the change in Rhonda’s mood.
Rhonda sucked her teeth. “That bitch Yoshi, on her bullshit as usual.”
“Yoshi? Where the hell did she disappear to?”
“Probably found a dick to fall on,” Rhonda said humorously. “Her and Billy are outside trying to catch a cab.”
“So are we leaving, too?” Reese asked, hoping Rhonda agreed so she wouldn’t run the risk of seeing Don B. or Jay.
“Hell no. The party is just about to get popping and we’re gonna shut this bitch down.” Rhonda held her hand up for a high five.
Reese slapped it, but it was only halfhearted. Ever since she had seen Don B., she had wanted to crawl under a rock and die. She had been a fool to think that someone like Don B. could dig a girl like her, but she still let him and his crew hit it. She had played herself and knew it, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Reese followed Rhonda to the foot of the stage and watched nervously as Bad Blood came out to the roar of the crowd.
* * *
Paul stood off to the back of the crowd, sipping a vodka and cranberry. Someone had announced that Bad Blood was about to take the stage, throwing the crowd into a near frenzy. Paul didn’t understand what all the hype was about. He had heard the group spit on mix CDs and thought they were good, but they were hardly the caliber of rappers people were trying to amp them up to be. Paul was from the era of cats like Rahkim and Big Daddy Kane, so this new generation of hip-hop didn’t move him like that.
“It’s about to go down, kid.” Larry approached, handing Paul another drink.
“Damn, I haven’t even finished this one,” Paul complained, but accepted the drink. “You trying to get me fucked up?”
“Paul, stop whining like a little bitch. It’s the weekend, my dude!”
“Larry, every day is the weekend to you.” Paul downed the first drink he was holding and went to work on the second one.
“And that’s why I’m easy like Sunday morning.” Larry winked.
A girl with skin the color of milk chocolate and thighs made for adult magazines walked up and playfully bumped Larry with her wide hip. Paul half heard him say something to her, but couldn’t make it out over the murmur of the crowd. The girl smiled and pointed off somewhere in the distance and motioned to Larry that she would be right back.
“Who’s the chick with the big ass?” Paul asked, hungrily eyeing her exit.
Larry ran his tongue across the top of his mouth, “Oh, that was this little freak bitch I met about half hour ago. Her name is Portia or some shit.”
“You get right to it, don’t you?”
“Damn right! We paid fifty dollars to get in here, and I plan on getting my money’s worth. And you wanna know the best part?” Larry asked, looking around.
“What?” Paul asked suspiciously.
In answer to his question, Portia returned with a friend. The second girl was dark, but not as dark as Portia. Her hair was feathered and split on one side. Glassy brown eyes went from Paul to Larry as the girl sized them up.
“Stacy, this is the kid Larry that I was telling you about and his man, Paul.” Portia pointed to Paul, who was smiling goofily. She leaned in so only Stacy could hear her, “Told you he was cute.”
Paul gave Stacy the once-over and felt himself becoming semierect. She was a slick young mud kicker who had blossomed nicely. Paul could see a hint of nipple beneath the sheer pink shirt, tied about the belly. Stacy noticed his stare and matched it. The way she held her mouth sent Paul’s imagination racing with the endless possibilities. Yes, he could tell she was a fast bitch and had just enough hood in her to do some real nasty shit if the mood was right. Just how Paul liked them.
That wicked side of him that he had promised to put under wraps when he and Marlene became official beat his chest, demanding its due, and Paul wasn’t sure how long he could be put off. He looked over at Larry, who was smiling at him mischievously; that fat muthafucka knew just what he was doing when he selected the two hood rats. He knew that the devil would come knocking and he was doing everything he could to make sure Paul answered the door.
* * *
Bad Blood had the crowd bugging. They performed “Slap Ya Self” and had everybody in there losing their cool. They had only been on the stage for three minutes and two fights had already erupted in the crowd. The dance floor became like a battlefield and Rhonda loved every minute of it.
“These niggaz is in here tripping,” Reese said, stepping to the side just in time to dodge a bottle dropped by a drunk partygoer.
“I ain’t wit’ all this elbow-to-elbow shit,” Rhonda said, squeezing toward the corner.
True was onstage doing his verse. His pants were hanging partially off his ass, exposing his two-way. When he moved to the end of the stage where Rhonda was standing she tried to get his attention. True couldn’t hear what she was shouting over all the noise, but even if he could he wouldn’t have responded. Rhonda was a good fuck, but he didn’t need her fucking up his groove that night. He was trying to step his game that night and bag something exotic. Rhonda was local pussy that he could tag whenever the mood struck him.
“I know this muthafucka hear me,” Rhonda said to Reese.
“Rhonda, let that man do his thing,” Reese said. She watched intently as Pain went into his verse in the song. Unexpectedly, Don B. was heading in their direction. He was holding a microphone in one hand and a towel in the other. Reese tried to back out of his line of vision, but Rhonda was pushing her closer to the stage.
“Bitch, watch out,” Rhonda said and shoved Reese.
Reese stumbled and caught herself on the edge of the stage at the exact moment Don B. reached down to get a bottle of water out of the small cooler onstage. His tinted eyes landed on Reese, whose breath caught in her chest. She couldn’t see his eyes behind the glasses so there was no way to tell if he recognized her or not. Reese tried to think of something to say, but drew a complete blank.
“Don B.!” Rhonda shoved past Reese and tapped Don B.’s pant leg. He looked down at her and nodded. “It’s Rhonda, Kelly’s sister!”
No! Reese wanted to scream at Rhonda, who was waving her arms like a woman on fire, trying to get Don B.’s attention. Don B. glanced at Rhonda, but Reese was sure he couldn’t hear a damn thing over the music. He smiled and said something back, but it was drowned out. It looked like Rhonda was about to try and climb on the stage, when Don B. was called back to do his verse in the “Slap Ya Self” remix. Once again, Reese had narrowly dodged a bullet, but how long could she keep it up? Eventually she would have to face her demons.
22
The ride uptown turned out to be a pleasant one for the two and a half fugitives. They made a brief stop at a diner and all picked up some takeout orders of bacon and eggs. Hearing Yoshi’s recollection of Jah coming to her rescue tickled the hell out of Billy. It was the first time she had smiled all night and Yoshi was glad to see the change in her friend’s mood. Sometimes she worried that Billy would let her grief drive her to do something stupid.
Billy got dropped off at her house, leaving Yoshi and Jah alone in the taxi for the rest of the ride. It seemed like as soon as she got out, a silence fell between the two. The only sound in the taxi was Patti LaBelle singing about good love on a lite-FM station. Every so often Yoshi would catch Jah looking over at her, but he’d quickly turn his head if she turned to face him. It was funny to her how a nigga who was supposed to have no fear couldn’t look her in the eye. Eventually the alcohol and the chronic caught up with Jah and he dropped off to sleep.
Yoshi leaned against the door and studied Jah’s profile by the murky lights of the streetlamps they passed. Even sleeping his face sported a slight scowl, but it was still the most relaxed she had ever seen him. For the first time, Yoshi realized how young Jah looked. His face was smooth as silk, with not even the slightest traces of hair. Gone was the hard façade of the street soldier, and in its place there was a sleeping little bo
y. She had to admit that Jah was a very handsome young man, but he was always so extra on the streets that a girl would never have a chance to appreciate his natural beauty. With strong features and full lips, Jah was very easy on the eyes.
She was still shocked at how hard he had gone for her. He wrapped Rel up without so much as a second thought as to what could’ve happened to him. He could’ve gotten locked up, or worse, Rel and his peoples could’ve did him dirty. Still, he was there when Yoshi needed him and she was thankful for that.
As a car passed, beeping its horn, Jah began to stir in his sleep. Yoshi started to reach out and touch his soft face, but he moved his hand closer to his gun, stopping her. The last thing she needed was this crazy little nigga having some warped dream and mistaking her for an enemy. For now she would adore him from a distance.
The cab coasted to a stop on 124th and Morningside. The street was empty with the exception of a group of young men loitering on the stoop. They eyed the yellow cab warily for fear that it might be the police in one of their many disguises. Jah must’ve felt the tension because he snapped out of his sleep and looked around.
“Where the hell are we?” he asked.
“This is where I live now,” Yoshi said, fishing around in her purse for her money.
Jah looked at the building, which was a walk-up that had been recently renovated. His gaze fell on the curious young men in front of the building, bringing a scowl to his face. “You want me to walk you in?”
Yoshi looked at the men uncomfortably because she didn’t know their faces. “I’ll be okay,” she said, more confidently than she felt.
Jah picked up on the uncertainty in her voice. “Nah, I’ll walk you on. Yo,” he turned to the driver, “hold on a second while I walk her in.”
“Come on, come on. I already go out of my way coming to Harlem,” the driver protested. “You make it stop, you catch another cab.”
“Why you acting like a nigga ain’t gonna pay you? I got money, duke,” Jah said, showing the driver a knot.
“No, no. I already go too far out of my way!”
Jah looked like he wanted to do something to the driver, but Yoshi eased him with a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” she said, handing the driver thirty dollars. “We’ll call you another cab, Jah,” she said to the youngster.
Jah climbed out of the taxi and went around to the other side to hold the door for Yoshi. Taking her by the hand, he helped her to the curb. He looked back at the cabdriver, who was staring at him maliciously, and spat in his face. Thick phlegm dripped down the cabdriver’s face and settled on his upper lip. In a rage he threw the door open, but was frozen by the sight of the cannon Jah now pointed at him.
“Go ahead, nigga,” Jah said, aiming the pistol at the cabdriver’s face. “You got some frog in you?” Nervously, the cabdriver sped off without bothering to close his door. “Bitch-ass nigga!” Jah shouted at his taillights. Yoshi just shook her head and allowed Jah to lead her to the building.
The gang who was posted up on Yoshi’s stoop quickly got out of their way as they approached. One of the boys who had been staring at Jah quickly turned his eyes away when the young man looked in his direction. The rest of them just nodded as Jah and Yoshi walked into the building.
Yoshi’s first-floor apartment was tastefully decorated in warm autumn colors. There was an auburn-colored couch that with the matching love seat formed an L in the living room and a big-screen television that took up a good amount of the wall. Yoshi also had a huge china cabinet filled with crystal glasses and figurines. Her hardwood floors were clean and polished almost to a mirrored shine. The apartment looked like it belonged to an older couple as opposed to a young girl from the hood. Jah had to admit it was hardly what he expected.
“Damn, you got a fly crib, Yoshi,” Jah said, looking around in awe.
Yoshi tossed her purse on the couch. “What did you expect, some Section Eight shit with roaches running all over the place?”
“Nah, I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.
“I’m just fucking with you, Jah. Here,” she said, tossing him a Dutch and a dime bag of weed she had gotten out of her purse. “Roll this and I’ll call your cab when we’re done smoking.”
Jah popped the bag open and inhaled. “This is that killa!”
“Nothing but that good shit goes in these lungs,” Yoshi said, walking toward the bedroom.
Jah cracked the blunt open and dumped the guts into a wastebasket. He skillfully rolled a blunt shaped like a baseball bat and dried it with the lighter. Picking up the round remote control from the table, Jah cut the television on. News 1 blasted from the television’s speakers, startling him.
“You better not be out there breaking my shit up!” Yoshi called from the bedroom.
Jah was lounging on the couch watching A Time to Kill on cable when Yoshi came out of the bedroom. She had traded in her club clothes for a pair of red sweats and a tank top. Even in the baggy pants her ass still jiggled, nearly hypnotizing Jah as she passed by to get to her portable bar.
“You want something to drink?” she asked, placing two glasses on the bar top.
“Yeah, I’ll take some Henny if you got it,” he replied, lighting the blunt.
“I got Henny, but not the kind y’all be drinking,” she said, pouring a dark liquid into the glasses.
“There’s more than one kind?” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment about being so damn ignorant.
Yoshi gave him an amused look. Jah’s naïveté only added to his appeal. Though he acted like he was the hardest nigga on two legs, she was beginning to see that he was really just a boy trapped in a man’s world. Yoshi made her way back to the couch and handed him one of the glasses. She watched him as he sipped the potent liquor and screwed up his face.
“The initial bite is a killer, but it goes down smoother than regular Henny,” he said, letting out a silent burp. “What kind of yak did you say this was?”
“It’s called Privilege. Strictly for the grown and sexy,” she said, sipping from her own glass.
“Then it’s right up my alley,” he boasted, draining his glass.
“Boy, please. You don’t know a damn thing about being grown.”
“Ah, but you didn’t say sexy,” he smiled broadly.
“Whatever, fool,” she said, snatching the blunt from him.
Jah watched as Yoshi took a deep pull of the chronic and held it. She expertly let some of the smoke escape her mouth and inhaled it through her nose. The way she looked sitting within the cloud of smoke with her hair pinned up in the back made Yoshi look like an Aztec goddess to Jah. He knew how Yoshi got down, but that still hadn’t done anything to slack his attraction to her. Most niggaz were attracted to Yoshi, but for the most part it was just physical. For Jah, it went far deeper.
“What’s the funny look about?” she asked, catching him staring.
“Huh?” he asked dumbly.
“You heard me. You’re sitting there looking like you wanna eat me.”
“I might,” he said, playfully.
“Jah, you play too much,” Yoshi said, laughing it off. When she looked over at Jah, she saw that his face was serious.
Jah was uncomfortable with the way she was looking at him. He felt like all that was in his heart was suddenly written across his forehead. “Say, you think I could get a private show?” he said jokingly, holding up some bills.
Yoshi suddenly became very angry. “I should’ve known there was an ulterior motive behind all that bullshit you’ve been kicking in my ear. I think you need to go,” she said, getting up and going to stand by the front door.
“Hold on, I was just joking,” he said, moving to cut her off before she reached the door. He reached for her arm, but she jerked it out of reach.
“Joking, my ass. Jah, you think I don’t know what these dumb-ass niggaz say about me? Hold on, better question: Do you think I care? Let me tell you something, little boy. I might do some foul shit, but I don’t just set my
pussy out to anyone holding a few dollars. Your little knight-in-shining-armor front might’ve gotten you into my house, but it doesn’t mean it’s gonna get you into my bed.”
“Is that what you think this is all about, me wanting to fuck you? Jesus, Yoshi, I know at least ten bitches I can call that would give it up if I asked, so why the hell would I come in here running game trying to hit it?”
“That’s the same thing I’m asking myself. Jah, you and me have always been cool, so I don’t understand why you would come at me like that.”
Jah’s tone was emotional when he spoke. “Yoshi, I haven’t come at you like anything. I’m not trying to game you outta no pussy, it ain’t that serious.”
“I’ll just bet,” she said, turning her head so he wouldn’t see the tears rimming her eyes. “You thought you were gonna come in here, hit it, and tell your little greaseball-ass friends how you’ve just added freak-ass Yoshi to your list of hits. You niggaz fucking disgust me.”
“Look at me,” he said, placing a hand on her shoulder. When she still didn’t turn around, he stepped around to her line of vision. “Yoshi, I ain’t like these niggaz,” he said seriously. “I mean … yeah, I dig you, but not because you strip, sell ass, or whatever it is you do in the club. That shit don’t mean nothing to me. I dig you because I think you’re fly.”
Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she listened to Jah speak. She wanted to believe him, but there was no way a guy so young could be so deep, especially one as feared as Jah. His eyes held a seriousness that she had never seen in him before. Yoshi tried to turn away, but he held her fast. Though she was angry, Jah’s strong hands soothed her a bit. He leaned in as if he was going to kiss her and she didn’t stop him. Her mouth opened of its own accord to receive him, but it was not her lips he was aiming for. Tenderly, Jah kissed the tears away from her cheeks.
