Hood Rat

by K'wan

  “I got you, Billy. Ten it is.”

  “Later.” She ended the call. Billy’s spirits were immediately lifted at the thought of having a nice dinner with Marcus’s fine ass. She could’ve cursed Yoshi out for giving up the number, but she knew if Yoshi didn’t think Marcus was on the level it wouldn’t have happened. Billy made a U-turn and headed back toward her building. If she was stepping out, then she would need something to wear.

  25

  Yo, I’m telling you, son, I got the hottest shit on the block right now. You need to stop playing and fuck with me, duke.” Crazy Eight was on the block, trying to hustle his CDs as usual, doubling as block entertainment for Jah and Spooky.

  “Nigga, why you always out here trying to push them CDs, knowing damn well nobody wants ’em?” Spooky asked, eyeing one of the CD cases comically.

  “’Cause this is the new movement, God,” Eight said seriously. “Don’t you realize the power of the spoken word? Music is the universal message, my dude.”

  “I got a message for you: Get the fuck up outta here with them bootleg-ass CDs.”

  Eight’s eyes took on a semimurderous glint. “Duke, you ain’t gotta dis me. Just say you don’t want it.”

  Spooky didn’t like Eight’s tone and decided to teach him a lesson. “Well, I don’t want the shit!” Spooky said, sending the CD floating through the air.

  Eight watched helplessly as his CD hit the street and got crushed by a speeding car. Eight looked from the shattered pieces of his CD to Spooky. Fire burned behind the young man’s eyes as he sized Spooky up. The look made Spooky so uncomfortable that his hand moved to the gun he had tucked on him.

  Jah gave Spooky a look, letting him know that he didn’t approve of what he had done. He dipped into his pocket and handed Eight a twenty-dollar bill. “Here, this is for the CD asshole broke, and let me get one for the crib.”

  Eight’s eyes softened a bit when he took the money from Jah. “Good looking out, fam. Let me get your change.”

  Jah stopped him. “Don’t worry about it. Go get me a Dutch from the corner store and we’ll call it even.”

  “A’ight, my dude,” Eight said, mounting his bike. “I’ll be right back.” He pedaled off to the store, leaving Jah and Spooky alone.

  “Why you do that shit, fam?” Jah asked, his face screwed up.

  “Man, fuck Crazy Eight.” Spooky spat on the ground. “Why do you give a fuck about a derelict-ass nigga like him?”

  “It ain’t the point of him being a derelict, Spooky. Come on, man, Eight is from the hood. How many fucking years we knew that cat?”

  “Fuck him, homeboy ain’t wit’ us, and if you ain’t wit’ the team, you ain’t shit,” Spooky said with conviction. Spooky had been Jah’s right-hand man since grade school, but they had very different views on life. Jah was a gangsta, meaning he was down for whatever to put food on the table, but he was reasonable about most things. Spooky was a cat who didn’t see logic. If you were weak, you were a victim.

  “You need to get a grip, Spook,” Jah told him.

  “The only thing I need to grip is my dick and my nine.” He grabbed each to get his point across. “Yo, how was that party last night?”

  “It was a’ight,” Jah said, silently remembering it.

  “Duce and them niggaz from Thirty-seventh was up in there. They said it was wall-to-wall hos.”

  “Yeah, they was definitely in there trying to get it popping,” Jah said, instinctively looking up and down the block for trouble.

  “I know you popped something, ’cause when I called ya phone, I didn’t get an answer.” Spooky looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

  “Nah, I was on some tired shit,” Jah lied.

  “You paid all that money to get in there and didn’t try to slide nothing? That ain’t like you, my dude.”

  “Man, I ended up having to jet up outta there. This bitch-ass nigga was coming at me sideways so I had to lace his boots.” Jah threw phantom punches.

  “Where was he from?” Spooky asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think he runs with that kid Ralph was working for, ’cause I seen them trying to creep after I laid homeboy out.”

  “Yeah, that nigga Slick.” Spooky thought on it. “I heard some shit about him. He’s supposed to be holding the projects down on some heroin shit. Thinks he’s a real big man.”

  “Is he gonna be a problem?” Jah asked.

  “He’s got a few niggaz behind him, but he ain’t no killer. The boy is really just living off his family’s rep. That scary-ass nigga don’t want no static.”

  Jah nodded as Spooky talked. He felt better knowing that Slick wasn’t some wild-out killer, but he would still keep his eyes peeled for danger. Spooky was taking the whole thing lightly, but Jah wasn’t the type to underestimate anyone. A scared nigga was the most likely to pop you.

  After giving it some thought, Jah said, “I’m still gonna do some digging on him to find out exactly what duke is about. In the meantime, we might wanna consider putting Ralph to sleep.”

  “Ralph? What the hell for?” Spooky asked. “He for damn sure don’t want none of us.”

  “Oh, I know and that’s all the more reason I’m thinking about rocking this punk. We disrespected him and he’s too afraid to retaliate on his own, so it makes sense to think he’ll probably gas this nigga Slick to try and come at us. Ralph ain’t about shit, but he knows us. He knows our habits and where we be, and that information could prove to be dangerous. This is how we’re gonna play it with duke…”

  * * *

  While Jah was running the plan down to Spooky, Yoshi was getting out of a cab on the other side of the street. She was still tired from the night before, but she had business that needed to be handled. She had been so caught up with the drama on the streets that she had neglected her pockets. Her rent was due in a few days and she needed to get on her job. A local cat who she had been dealing with wanted to see her, which meant he was willing to come out of his pocket. Everyone that fucked with Yoshi knew that every second of her time was worth a dollar and that’s how she lived her life.

  The spot they agreed to meet was at IHOP on 135th and Seventh Avenue. She got out of the cab on Lenox and decided to walk to Seventh. She enjoyed a cigarette and the weather on her stroll. When she got halfway up the block, she noticed Jah and Spooky posted up in front of a small building directly across from the YMCA. She tried to act like she didn’t see him, but her eyes acted of their own will and rested on the young dude who had aged five years in her bed. Jah spotted her and gave a nod.

  Just seeing him, even at a distance, made her feel in a way. The night/morning they had had together was like nothing she had ever experienced with a man, and Yoshi had been with quite a few. For as hard as Jah was on the streets, he was a pussycat between the sheets. He had tenderly placed kisses over every inch of her body, causing pleasure in waves. When he went down on her, she thought she would pass out from the sheer bliss of it all. The real kicker was when he ran up in her. Jah might’ve been on the short side, but he had a giant stroke. Several times throughout the course of their lovemaking she thought that he had hit a vital organ.

  When it was done, there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Neither had meant for it to happen, but they couldn’t deny the fact that it was magical. They both agreed that they’d keep their romp quiet for the time being, not exactly sure where it would go from there. The last thing they needed were wild rumors circulating through the hood that could potentially fuck up a good thing. For as much as she wanted to run to him and kiss his face, she knew she couldn’t blow it up. Instead, she returned his nod and kept it moving.

  * * *

  “Damn, I’d love to fuck that bitch,” Spooky said, watching Yoshi walk up the block. Jah just remained silent, his eyes fixed on Yoshi. “Yo, I heard she do something real strange for a little bit of change.” Spooky, thinking he had said something clever, reached his hand out for a pound. Jah just stared at it.

  “
Sometimes you talk too much,” he told Spooky.

  “That ain’t nobody but freak-ass Yoshi. Stop acting like that, Jah.”

  “See, that’s the reason you don’t get no pussy. Everything that comes out of your mouth about a bitch is derogatory,” Jah said. “How long have we known Yoshi and you’re over here talking about her like a dog?”

  Spooky raised an eyebrow. “Jah, since when are you worried about me shitting on a bitch? Nigga, you’re just as foul as I am, and you out here on your women’s lib shit? Let me find out you feeling that ho. A-ha.” he suddenly chuckled, “Jah’s in love with a stripper,” he sang, mimicking T-Pain’s single.

  Anger flashed across Jah’s face, but he checked himself before responding to Spooky’s accusation. “Dawg, how long you known me and you acting like you don’t know my style. My heart is cold as a December morning, so don’t press me on no sucker-for-love shit. All I’m saying is that I don’t always feel like hearing that shit.” Jah turned away.

  “Sprung-ass nigga,” Spooky mumbled.

  About then, Crazy Eight had come back with the Dutch Master and a twenty-two-ounce bottle of St. Ides wrapped in a plastic bag. “Yo, you want some?” Eight asked, trying to hand the beer to Jah.

  “Nah, I’m good.” True pushed it away. “Yo,” he turned to Spooky, “let’s go smoke that in the park.”

  “Why we can’t smoke it right here?” Spooky asked, splitting the blunt open and dumping the guts all over the front steps of the building where they were loitering.

  “Because I don’t want these old folks who live here tripping about us ignorant-ass niggaz fucking up their stoop with our drug paraphernalia. Not to mention we’re two doors down from a funeral home and half a block from the precinct.”

  “True,” Spooky said, trying to kick away some of the mess he had made. As he made steps toward the park across the street, he noticed Crazy Eight was following. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  “We about to get high,” Eight said, continuing to push his bike.

  “Nigga, you ain’t smoking wit us.”

  “Yo, I went to the store and can’t get high?”

  “Eight, you’re good,” Jah cut in.

  “Yo, Jah, I ain’t trying to get high with this crazy nigga,” Spooky protested.

  “Then roll yourself a personal blunt,” Jah said, continuing across the street with Eight on his heels.

  * * *

  “How long are we gonna ride around, man?” Groovy asked, turning left on 135th and Eighth.

  “Till we spot the little muthafucka. Why, you got somewhere to be?” Rel barked.

  “Fam, watch how you talk to me,” Groovy warned him. “All I’m saying is that we’ve been riding around the same ten blocks for the last hour and we still ain’t seen the cat.”

  “Ralph, you sure this is where he hangs?” Slick asked the man in the backseat, who was fidgeting uncomfortably. After leaving the house, Slick and his men had tracked Ralph down and pressed him about information on the kid Jah. After comparing notes about the robbery and what the streets were saying about Rel’s run-in, they discovered that the perps were one in the same. This only added urgency to their quest to find Jah.

  “Yeah, man,” Ralph said, looking as if he was trying to sink into the seat. When they had approached him about info on Jah, Ralph was more than willing to give it to them. But when they insisted that he come along for the ride, things got complicated. He knew that if word got back to Jah about him running his mouth, the clock would start ticking on his life.

  “If you’re so goddamn sure, why the hell haven’t we bumped into him yet?” Rel snapped.

  “Why don’t you chill out?” Groovy said, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag and tossed the smoldering match head out the window.

  Rel looked at him, frowning. “Chill? This little muthafucka robbed us and tried to split my shit. Word to mine, son, I’m ready to tear this kid’s head off.”

  “Rel is right. We can’t let this li’l nigga slide,” Slick agreed.

  The men continued to talk among themselves, while Ralph tried to remain calm. The task proved to be harder than he’d hoped as his hand kept sweating and he felt like he had to take a shit. Just then he looked across the street and saw Jah leading Eight and Spooky into the park.

  “There he is!” Slick said, pointing in their direction.

  “Yeah.” Rel checked his revolver. “Roll up on this nigga so I can pop his ass.”

  “Be easy.” Slick waved him back. “Groovy,” he addressed the young driver, “pull up alongside of them. We’ll creep slow and lay his ass down.”

  Groovy slowed the car to a crawl, while Slick rolled the passenger’s side window down. Gripping his P89 with both hands, Slick leaned out the window and tried to draw a bead on Jah. Hands shaking nervously, Slick tried to keep the sight trained on the back of the young man’s head. He had shot at people before, but couldn’t say for sure if he’d ever hit anyone. His hands were sweating so fiercely that he feared he might drop the gun as soon as he licked a shot off. Without even looking at them, Slick could feel the eyes of his team watching him judgmentally. He was their leader and had to show and prove that he was fit to be such. Taking a deep breath, he wrapped his finger around the trigger and prepared to handle his business.

  * * *

  Yoshi walked into the IHOP and her mere presence demanded the attention of every man in the room. She paused near the entrance and surveyed the eatery. Toward the back, already seated and sipping orange juice, was the man she had come to meet. Eyes hungrily watched as she stalked through the room on the way to the rear booth. A waiter who had been paying more attention to Yoshi than where he was going tripped over a WET FLOOR sign and dropped his entire tray of food. Yoshi just shook her head as she took the seat opposite Red.

  “Damn, you always could make a nigga fall and bump his head.” He smiled up at her. Red was high yellow, with auburn hair and a baby face. Once upon a day he had played football for Kennedy High School, but somewhere along the line he lost his way. Had he applied himself, Red could’ve played D-1 ball, but once he had moved his first pack he decided that he’d rather be rich than educated.

  “Just another thirsty-ass nigga,” she said as if it was nothing. “So where the hell you been hiding?”

  “You know me, Yoshi,” he said with a smile. “I be in, out, and around. I just came back from NC.”

  “Get that money, baby.” Yoshi smiled.

  “You know I ain’t never been one to sit around broke, ma.” He sipped his coffee. “So what’ve you been up to?”

  Yoshi fidgeted with her napkin. “Trying to keep my head over water, baby.”

  “You still working the clubs?” he asked, looking her directly in the eyes.

  “A girl has gotta eat.”

  “Indeed,” he replied.

  The waitress came on the scene to take their orders. Yoshi went with two eggs and a side of bacon, while Red went with the two pancakes and bacon. For a moment neither of them said anything. Yoshi busied herself with checking the time on her phone, while Red just stared. His hazel eyes made Yoshi feel like they were burning a hole in her. She had always been a sucker for his eyes. Soft, yet cold.

  “So let’s cut to the chase. I’m in town for a minute and I’m trying to have some quiet time with you. Maybe we can dip out to AC or something. You wit’ that?” Red asked.

  Yoshi’s face reddened ever so slightly. “Look at you.” She smiled, letting the sun bounce off her perfect teeth. “Trying to get me to skate on a whim. I gotta work and I have a life. I can’t just cancel all my plans and dip off with you.”

  “I don’t see why not. Come on, ma, you know I don’t get to see you that often. I gotta check for that when I come through town.”

  “Tell me anything, nigga.” Yoshi said it like she didn’t believe him, but she knew full well what effect her pussy had had on Red. His stroke was decent, but it all went out the window when she was on her job. She could always
get a whimper out of him if she worked her vaginal muscles the way he liked. Red had done everything, from licking her ass to her feet. Yoshi knew she had a good shot, and every time a nigga like Red came out of his pocket the claim was strengthened.

  “For real, Yoshi. You be having a nigga thinking about that, so it’s only right that I come check on it,” he said.

  “I hear you talking.” She sipped from the glass of water the busboy had set in front of her. “You and me have always had a beautiful understanding, but you know how I do it.”

  “Of course,” he said as if she needn’t have even hinted. “You know I always take care of you, boo.”

  “Okay, as long as we understand each other,” she said.

  Red chuckled. “You know, I’ve never gotten you, Yoshi.”

  “And that’s supposed to mean…?”

  “You’re smart, fine, and have ambition. A nigga could make you a winner.”

  “I’m winning already, cat daddy,” she said slyly.

  “I could never dispute that, but I mean going about it the right way. You ever think about chucking all this shit and letting a nigga make an honest woman out of you?” he asked seriously.

  “And depend on someone else to take care of me? Never and a day, boo. I’m a bitch that’s always gonna go out there and get it for myself. It’s not even my style to gamble my well-being on someone else’s dime.”

  “Nah, I don’t mean lay up on a nigga. I’m talking about going half on something. Yoshi, if you were to just get your priorities in order, you could make some lucky cat real happy.”

  Yoshi twisted her lips and said, “Red, I do things the way I do for a reason. Affairs of the heart can make the game too complicated. Besides, a dude that sells poison for a living can’t give me advice on morality.”

  He laughed at that. “Good one, ma.”

  The waitress had now returned and began placing their meals in front of them. Yoshi looked at her food and hoped Red wouldn’t think she was a low-class ho after seeing what she was about to do to her meal. Jah had sapped her of all her strength and she hadn’t had a chance to eat since yesterday afternoon. When she lifted the fork to cut into her eggs, she heard a shot.