by K'wan
“How could you do this to me?” he asked, placing his head in his hands. “All these years I thought he was mine and it was a lie.”
The more Rhonda talked, the harder Paul cried. How do you tell a child who you’ve been taking care of and interacting with like father and son that it was all bullshit? All Paul wanted to do was take a minute to breathe, but Rhonda was lingering in his space. It was as if her being in the same room with him was sapping his strength. He needed to be away from Rhonda before he lost his cool.
Rhonda risked moving close enough to the sobbing man to place her arm around him. “Paul, you’re the only daddy P.J. has ever known, so I don’t see a reason to change that now. You can keep on being his daddy and we can sweep all this under the rug,” she said, trying to convince him. Her voice in his ear sounded like the buzzing of an insect house, driving him further into madness. With a warrior’s cry, Paul snapped.
He backhanded Rhonda in the mouth so hard that she flew to the other side of the room and landed in the corner. She tried to scramble to her feet, but he was on her again. He delivered two more vicious slaps to Rhonda’s face and tossed her roughly on the couch.
“All these years and it was a fucking lie!” he raged.
“Don’t touch me!” Rhonda screamed. “Somebody help!!!”
“Lying bitch.” He slapped her again. “Dirty lying whore!” He kicked her in the thigh. “How the fuck could you do this to my life?” he asked, leaning down so she could hear his hoarse whisper.
“Paul, I’m so sorry,” she said, smashing her Corona bottle against his head.
Paul staggered twice and tipped over. When he hit the hard floor, the .40 he’d stolen from Spooky’s crib came loose and clanged to the floor. Rhonda tried to scramble for the gun, but Paul grabbed her by the leg and dragged her back. She tried to fight him off, but the punches she was landing didn’t do much to stop him. Paul was too far gone. Rhonda managed to wiggle loose and make one last lunge for the gun. This time she got it. Just as Paul was pouncing on her, she was rolling over, holding the pistol. They tussled around on the ground and eventually ended up with Paul on top of Rhonda with the barrel of the gun pressed against his chin.
“Oh, you gonna shoot your baby’s daddy?” he asked, as if it was all a game to him. Paul struggled to get the gun away from Rhonda, but she had a death grip on it. “You better let this gun go before we have an accident.”
“Paul, you’re bugging. Get off me.” She struggled as he slowly bent the barrel in her direction.
“Fucking lying bitch,” he snarled, dripping spit on her. “You put me through all this and the kid wasn’t even mine. I’m gonna put an end to your shit, once and for all.”
“Paul…” She twisted the gun at his chest. “Stop it. You’re gonna—”
Rhonda’s words were drowned out by the gunshot. All was still for a moment, but when the smoke cleared, another young life had been lost.
* * *
When the police arrived at Rhonda’s apartment, the furniture was overturned and blood was all over the living room floor. They found Paul huddled up in the bathtub, babbling and clutching the printout. They tried to ask him what had happened, but he seemed incapable of coherent speech. It didn’t matter, though, the scene in the living room told the entire story.
Rhonda was stretched out by the window, with a bullet hole in her throat. Her lifeless eyes stared vacantly at the detectives and plainclothes officers who were moving through her house. Oddly enough, she would come to meet her end by the same man she sought so diligently to reclaim; just as she had always said, she “loved him to death.”
The police called it a crime of passion: “The scorned lover who had come to settle old scores with his estranged son’s mother.” At least that’s how the papers would write it.
When they tested the gun, they linked it to the murders of Groovy, Slick, and several other unsolved homicides. The police took Paul in and charged him with every last body.
Sometimes It Goes Down Like That
Everyone in the hood turned out for Rhonda’s funeral. It was amazing how someone who had pissed so many people off could’ve touched so many lives. Whether it was good or bad, everyone had something to say about Rhonda’s crazy ass.
Sometime during the course of the funeral, True had slipped in. He was dressed in a dark suit and shades so black that you couldn’t see his eyes if you were standing right in front of him. Though neither of them would’ve ever admitted it, there was a special connection between True and Rhonda. No matter how much of a hood rat she might’ve been, something always seemed to draw him back to her. Whether or not they could’ve ever coexisted as more than fuck buddies was a question that would never be answered. Some of the chickenheads had tried to press True for autographs, but he rudely dismissed them. He was grieving and the limelight had no place in his darkness.
“Hey, True,” Rita said, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“How you doing, ma?” He placed his hand over hers.
“Hanging in there.” She shrugged. “It’s gonna be hard, but I’m strong. Damn, I’m gonna miss my baby.” When Rhonda died, Rita had been destroyed. She ran up and down the street screaming and pulling her hair out. She had treated Rhonda horribly all her life and now that she was gone, there would never be a chance to make it right.
Little P.J. came darting past, almost stepping on True’s shoe. True grabbed the youngster and tossed him into the air as he scolded him for running in a funeral home. Rita looked at the two of them interacting and her breath caught in her chest. She had never seen the two of them together, so she never saw the resemblance between True and P.J. She had known Rhonda had doubts about who P.J.’s father was, but she never mentioned True as a candidate. They were dealing with each other at the time, so it was possible, but there was no way Rita could know for sure. It was just another secret Rhonda took with her to the grave.
* * *
Since the murderous summer of ’06, things hadn’t been the same in the hood. The police were riding around shutting all the hustlers down, trying to bring the end to the crack era in one swoop. They didn’t have much luck, but as long as they kept their feet knee deep in black asses, the mayor was happy.
With all the tragedy surrounding her, Reese had finally woken up to the fact that she was wasting her life. She had her mother take her down to enroll in BMCC, where she would complete her GED and study business. With a baby on the way, she needed to put together a solid game plan and finishing her education was a damn good place to start. She had made it all the way to the abortion clinic and had gotten cold feet, decided to take that stand. She would keep her baby and raise it as best she could, father or not. She was a woman, and therefore possessed the strength to do so.
Billy also resumed her education, enrolling at LIU. She had to take out an asshole full of loans and still have her mother call in a favor, but they made it happen. Regina’s faith in her daughter was slowly coming back. Marcus had remained a constant fixture in Billy’s life. Between him, work, and school, Billy kept her hands full. This suited her fine because it kept her mind off the past. She would miss the people she had lost, but she had learned her lesson about carrying around ghosts.
Jah and Yoshi had moved into her apartment together. It took a while before she was comfortable enough to sleep there again, but having Jah’s crazy ass by her side made it easier. Billy was skeptical about the move, but as it turned out, Jah and Yoshi got along famously. She had stopped stripping and gotten a job doing wardrobe for music videos. It was a gig True had hooked her up with. It was the least he could do, considering what his boys had put her through. Yoshi eventually let go of her demons and started looking forward to tomorrow.
Jah took what happened to his brother extremely hard. He had made the difficult decision to go to the police and tell them it was really his gun, that Paul had nothing to do with the murders. He couldn’t sit on the sidelines while his big brother spent the rest of his life in jail. He would get a go
od lawyer, turn himself in, and put it in God’s hands. A life without Yoshi was one he didn’t look forward to living, but he couldn’t sacrifice his brother like that, not even for her.
Oddly enough, Jah never had to act. Not long after Paul had been taken to Riker’s Island, he slashed his wrists. As he bled out in the prison shower, he painted a mural on the wall in his own blood. It was the rough smear of a man who had a gaping hole in his chest. When Marlene left Paul, she took his spirit with her. Even before he died, there hadn’t been much more than a shell of the old Paul left. Jah took this as his wake-up call to get out of the game.
Marlene and Larry Love completed a lovely three-week cruise, where they made love every sunup and sundown. Marlene found it ironic that all this time she’d thought that Larry was the problem, but he was actually the solution. They both felt bad about sneaking behind Paul’s back, but it was just something that had happened. Larry happened to be there at a moment Marlene needed comforting and he was happy to oblige. Paul was his man, but he had no idea what to do with someone like Marlene. Larry was an expert on bitches, and would make sure she was handled properly.
When they got back to New York and found out what had happened to Paul, they both felt like less than shit. While they were away having wild sex on Marlene’s dime, someone who loved them both dearly had lost his freedom and his life. The worst part was he had gone through it all alone. They would have to live with the fact of knowing that they each played a part in what finally happened to Paul.
Six months into their relationship, Marlene woke up to find her car missing and one of her bank accounts totally depleted. Larry had disappeared with her heart and almost all of her savings. Paul’s best friend, who had rocked her to sleep, had in the end shitted on her. Marlene took an L because she went out like the very same kind of person she was always looking down her nose at … a hood rat!!!!!
ALSO BY K’WAN
Street Dreams
Hoodlum
Eve
Still Hood
Gutter
Section 8
Flirt
Welfare Wifeys
Eviction Notice
Diamonds and Pearl
The Diamond Empire
About the Author
K’WAN is a multiple literary award winner and bestselling author of more than twenty titles, which include Gangsta, Road Dawgz, Street Dreams, Hoodlum, Eve, Hood Rat, Blow, Still Hood, Gutter, Section 8, From Harlem with Love, The Leak, Welfare Wifeys, Eviction Notice, Love & Gunplay, Animal, The Life & Times of Slim Goodie, Purple Reign, Little Nikki Grind, Animal II, The Fix, Black Lotus, First & Fifteenth, Ghetto Bastard, Animal 3, The Fix 2, The Fix 3 and Animal 4. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Acknowledgments
Part One. I’ll Bet You Know Somebody Like This
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Part Two. One Hell of a Night
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Part Three. A Vicious Cycle
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Sometimes It Goes Down Like That
Also by K’wan
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Published in the United States by St. Martin’s Griffin, an imprint of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
HOOD RAT. Copyright © 2006 by K’wan Foye. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Publishing Group, 120 Broadway, New York, NY 10271.
www.stmartins.com
The Library of Congress has cataloged the first St. Martin’s Griffin edition as follows:
Foye, K’wan
Hood rat / K’wan Foye.—1st ed.
p. cm.
ISBN-13: 978-0-312-36008-5
ISBN-10: 0-312-36008-8
1. Street life—New York—New York (State)—Fiction. 2. Gangs—New York (State)—New York—Fiction. 3. Hip-hop—Fiction. 4. African Americans—New York—New York (State)—Fiction. 5. Harlem (New York, N.Y.)—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3606.O96H67 2006
813′.6—dc22
2006045570
ISBN 978-1-250-75009-9 (trade paperback)
ISBN 978-1-4299-9361-6 (ebook)
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact your local bookseller or the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].
Second St. Martin’s Griffin Edition: May 2020
eISBN 9781429993616
