by Quan Millz
Jessica was a smart ass hoe. She saved every single dime she had and knew how to spend her money wisely. Which was why she was pushing this new all-black BMW 550-iL.
“Girl, don’t even worry about it. They’ll probably just drop the charges.”
“No the fuck they didn’t! I had to sign a plea deal to walk out or otherwise I was facing damn near ten years.”
Jessica chucked the car’s engine up and we sped off down the street. Cook County Jail wasn’t too far away from my crib on 47th street.
“What you mean??!? Bitch, you took a plea deal over that petty ass shit?” Jessica said shaking her head.
Cardi B’s Bodak Yellow was lightly blaring from the car’s radio. I replied, “Yes! Shit! Bitch, I’m not built for prison! They talkin’ about I even had a wire fraud charge for arranging the payment over CashApp. All this shit just sounded so bogus as fuck!”
“Damn, that’s how they do though! Muhfuckin’ pigs set you up. That means I gotta lay low, too.”
“Then, they said I can’t even fuckin’ dance no more. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“WHAT?!?”
“YES, BITCH!”
“Now THAT’S fucked up! What the fuck you finne do now? Go get a job at Wal-Mart or a fuckin’ call center?”
“Bitch, I don’t even know! And now I gotta do three-hundred hours of community service.”
“Oh no?!? Bitch, community service? Is you serious?”
“YES! UGHH! Girl, and the probation officer even saw me dance before! GIRL, HE KNEW MY FUCKIN’ NAME! I’m gonna ask someone if I can change probation officers ‘cuz he made me feel very fuckin’ uncomfortable!”
“Dis tew much,” Jessica said shaking her head with her hands glued to the steering wheel.
I sat back and shook my head, just fucking disgusted that all this went down. “It is what it is though…I’m just so glad to be out of that shit.”
“You told yo mamma’nem about what happened?”
Suddenly a scowl covered my face. “Fuck her. I ain’t fuckin’ with her. After all the shit she did to me?!?”
“Damn, ya’ll still goin’ at each other like that?!?”
I smacked my teeth. “Boo-boo! Look, we gon still beef as long as she got my son! I know that for sure.”
“Anyways,” I said. “Can we stop to get somethin’ to eat?”
“What you want?”
“Girl, some Micky D’s.”
“Okay, good, ‘cuz I wanna get somethin’ in my system before I go over this nigga’s crib…”
***
Jessica and I grabbed something to eat from McDonald's then we made our way down 47thstreet.
“Aiight, girl, just give me a call if you need anything. I’m about to go get my box ate!” Jessica said as I got out of the car.
I paused for a moment. “Wait, oh so you was serious-serious?” I asked.
“Hell yeah! I’m messin’ with this old ass man, girl! This nigga a pastor and er’thang! He eat pussy like it’s going out of style, too!”
“BITCH, NO! YOU GON GET WORMS! An old nigga??!? A pastor?!? THE FUCK?!?!”
“Yes!”
“Oh no! Bitch you crazy as fuck!” I just cringed at the idea of letting a nigga past the age of forty put his tongue inside of me, let alone fuck me. I wasn’t with that shit at all!
“Okay, look, we gon have to talk about this later. Give me a call! ‘Cuz this old man on a busy schedule!” “Ok, bitch. Holla!” I closed the door then made my way toward my apartment building.
I lived in a two-bedroom apartment off 47th and Lake Park. And no – I AIN’T on section 8 for all you nosey, judgmental bitches. I paid for ALL my shit and paid it on time.
But now I didn’t even know how the fuck I was gonna keep up with my bills. If I couldn’t dance, my ass was gonna have to get on a section 8 waitlist. Stripping was good ass money. In one night I could make at least a g depending on what types of niggas came through.
I knew if I had to get a job working customer service or fast food, it was gon take damn near two weeks just to make a stack. I wasn’t with that shit at all. I was gonna have to come up with a serious plan!
“NuNu! I know you hear me, lil girl!”
Just as I was about to put the keys in my door, I turned around to the familiar voice of none other than my trifling ass, lyin’ ass mama.
She strolled up from the sidewalk. She was by herself.
I rolled my eyes and asked, “Where Darquayvious at? And what you want?”
“Where else would he be, Ms. Irresponsible Strippin’ Prostitute! He’s in SCHOOL. Just like where YOU SHOULD BE if you wasn’t so busy being a lil nasty Jezebel!”
“Mama! I ain’t got time for your bullshit today! You can go on with that mess like for real!” I threw my gaze back to the apartment building’s front door ready to go inside. I wasn’t gonna let her stupid ass in either. Bitch, I got shit to do.
“Oh no! You got time for it today, young lady! I heard about what happened to you!”
I froze. “How?!?”
“Ya little strippin’ friend’s mama came into my Facebook inbox crying! Talkin’ bout you got her caught up in some mess!”
“How the fuck she even find you?!?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care! All I know is I know what yo nasty ass has been up to. We talked about this and now I’m gonna run down to the judge and tell them to take away ALL of your custody. You are a HORRIBLE mother AND a daughter. Got me out here lookin’ crazy!”
As soon as she said those words I was ready to wrap my hands around this bitch’s throat. My mother was one of those fake ass, born-again Christians who swore she was better than everyone else just ‘cuz she knew Jesus. She always was judging people when the bitch had a past herself. Her ass USED to be a crackhead! And she used to let all types of niggas run through her tired ass.
Now that she was on some holier-than-thou bullshit ‘cuz she found Christ, she was going around acting like she was the best mother and grandma in the world.
“Bitch, try me if you want to! I swear to God!” I said as I balled my fists. I needed to calm down or else I was gonna catch another charge.
Mama saw me balling up my fists. “OR YOU GON DO WHAT?!? Lil girl, you need God! That’s what you need! But I ain’t playing with you. Darquayvious needs a better mother. You are reckless!”
“Bitch! Fuck you! You’re the reckless one! Reckless with your mouth. You used to be a fucking crackhead but now you think you better than folks ‘cuz you read the bible and pray. Bitch, pray for a better job and a wig!”
“See! There you go! That attitude! That mouth of yours is gonna be your undoing. I’m serious, too, NuNu! I’m getting full custody over Darquayvious. And by the way, once I do, I hope you know the State will be sending me a big ole nice check to take care of him, too. If you wasn’t so busy popping pills and smoking that reefer, maybe he wouldn’t be autistic.”
That was it. I had enough.
“BITCH! I’MMA FUCK YOU UP!” I screamed and lunged at my mother. I didn’t care anymore. Lock my ass up ‘cuz I was finne beat a bitch's ass!
Chapter Seven
A week later…
“You’re lucky she’s not going to press charges, Nashawna,” Rasheeda, one of the prosecutors who offered me a deal, said as she shook her head. “What would make you do something like that anyway?”
“She pressed my buttons! She threatened to take full custody away from me. I barely see my son as is.”
“Well, it looks like that’s gonna happen now, Nashawna. Look, I’m going to mandate you also enroll in anger management as a part of your plea deal. Attacking your mother was totally uncalled for!”
“What?!? Come on! I just got out and my mama was already harassing me over some bullshit! This ain’t right!”
“Nashawna, there’s a lot about life you won’t like. But that doesn’t give you the right to put your hands on anyone. Now look, either enroll in the anger management class or go to prison. An
d we’ll revoke the plea deal. On that note, I said what I said and now I’m done,” Rasheeda declared as she stood up from her seat and made her way over to her office door.
I exhaled and shook my head. This was some bullshit for real for real.
It was Thursday morning and I was sitting inside of Rasheeda’s office. Ironically, I was supposed to be meeting with Mr. Baines’ nasty ass in a few hours.
After I pretty much beat my mama’s ass for talking cash money shit, unfortunately, I got locked up. AGAIN!
This time though, I got out within a few hours. My mama decided not to press charges against me for “assaulting” her. Prosecutors told her I had a plea deal and that if she pressed charges, I was going straight to prison. Guess the hypocritical bitch felt sorry enough for me to spare me hard prison time.
Yeah, so I put my hands on my own mama. I’on give a fuck! I felt like I was defending myself! I mean – how the fuck you just gon show up to my shit and try to go ham on me over some goofy ass shit you ain’t know nothin’ about?!?!
So what Kiara’s stupid ass mama came into her inbox talkin’ ‘bout I got her daughter caught up?!? Bitch! ya daughter is GROWN. You hear me! FUCKING GROWN! Retarded ass bitch grown enough to pop out five kids from four different niggas! Was she caught the fuck up then? But all of a sudden, the bitch wanna act like she ain’t know what the fuck she was getting herself into and now I was the one getting blamed for her getting locked up now?!? No! Fuck that! That raggedy bitch made her own decisions, so she gotta deal with them. Her mama just mad ‘cuz her broke ass didn’t have them funds to get her stupid ass daughter bonded the fuck out! And now she wanted to go cry to my mama talkin’ about I ruined her life. The fuck?!? Really? It was weird as hell Kiara’s mama would even slide in my mama’s Facebook inbox like that anyways ‘cuz my mama don’t even know that bitch like that. And I only met Kiara’s mama ONCE. I think that bitch must be on the pipe, too, ‘cuz only a basehead ass dumb bitch would do some silly shit like that.
ANYWAYS…
Rasheeda gave me a call this morning and demanded I come down to her office to speak with her about what happened between me and my mother. And here I was, trying to justify my behavior. SELF-DEFENSE. Bitch should’ve never ran up on me like that with the bullshit.
Now what was really pissing me the fuck off was that now this Rasheeda hoe was trying to ding me for sticking up for myself. She didn’t even wanna really hear my side. Said there was no point ‘cuz nothing justified me putting my hands on the bitch.
“Fine then…,” I replied. Fuck it. I had to do what I gotta do ‘cuz at the end of the day, I still refused to go to prison.
I stood up and just as I was about to make my way out the door, Rasheeda said, “You’re supposed to be going to meet up with your PO, right? Mr. Baines…”
“Yeah! Speaking of which—"
Rasheeda quickly interrupted me by saying, “Well, he’s out on sick leave. He had a heart attack.”
I froze in shock for a second. “Oh wow! How you know?”
“I called the PO’s office this morning to check to see if you had started submitting your community service hours. And I also wanted to see if you had been faxing over your job search history.”
I raised an eyebrow. “But it’s just been a week though…Damn!” Was she being for real right now?!? Like for real! A bitch JUST got out and you was already checking for me hard like this?!?
“It doesn’t matter. And here’s what you’re gonna do though. You’re gonna take your behind straight down to Apostolic so you could meet with the community service coordinator. His name is Kevon. He and I have already talked. He’s expecting you within two hours.”
“What about my PO appointment though?”
“I had them to change your scheduled PO meetings. You’re coming back tomorrow to meet with Mrs. Hairston. She’s a lot more thorough than Mr. Baines. I was going to be in that request for you to change POs anyways. I think you need someone who is gonna be more stern with you.”
I shook my head and rolled my eyes to the dusty office ceiling. Just like that, I wished the nigga didn’t have a heart attack. Yeah, he was a creep, but now this Mrs. Hairston bitch sounded like she was going to be worse. “This is just a lot. Damn, no wonder people be going back to jail. SHIT!”
“Exactly. And if you don’t get your act straight, you’re gonna be there with them… Now please get out of my office, stay out of trouble, do your damn requirements and TRY to live a normal life. It’s not that hard…Sis.”
Ughhh! I wanted to wrap my hands around this mixed bitch’s throat! And just the way she said ‘sis’ had me ready to cuss her the fuck out. If this bitch didn’t have my freedom in the palm of her hands, I would’ve been decked this blasian hoe in her fuckin’ throat.
I fake smiled as I made my way to the door. “Thank you…sis. I’ll check in with you later,” I replied with sarcasm as I strolled out. Rasheeda slammed the door behind me.
“Fuckin’ bitch…,” I grumbled under my breath as I headed out the Cook County Prosecutor’s Office and back to my car.
***
“Hi, I’m here to meet with Mr. Kevon,” I said to the church receptionist.
I had just walked through the doors of Apostolic Missionary Baptist Church. It was one of the largest churches on the South Side. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the church my raggedy ass mama go to.
The older black woman receptionist, who had a small gray afro paired with her dark skin, glanced up at me. “And you are?” she asked.
“My bad…My name is Nashawna Spearman. I’m supposed to be doing community service here.”
“Ohhh! Yes. I believe Pastor Wilkins did say that he was expecting an appointment. He’s also one of our youth pastors…Follow me,” she said as she stood up from her desk and walked over to me. “I’m Debra, by the way. I’m one of the church secretaries.” She reached her hand out and I shook it. “Nice to meet you, Debra.”
“What brings you down to Apostolic? Are you a member?” she asked as she escorted me down a hallway. The front of the church had a massive office wing. I never knew churches could be this big. For a second, I thought I was in some building in downtown. Like a law office or some shit.
“I gotta do community service for my probation requirement,” I said unapologetically. I knew she was gonna judge me, but hey, I didn’t give a fuck. I was just down here to do my service and that was it. I didn’t even really believe in God or Jesus like that, truth be told. Praying and none of that shit never worked in my opinion.
“Oh.” She then went silent and didn’t say another word until we arrived at Kevon or Pastor Wilkins’ office. She knocked. “Come in…,” a male voice said from the other side.
We walked into the huge office but as soon as my eyes landed on the pastor, a bitch fell instantaneously in love.
“Are you Nashawna?” Pastor Kevon said as he got up from his big leather office chair.
I gulped taking in this nigga’s overwhelming sexiness. He was tall and built like he was ready to make NBA’s first draft. His skin was dark cocoa like Ethiopian coffee beans. This fine ass nigga had Pacific Ocean waves roaring in his head. A light beard adorned his chiseled brown face. The moment he opened his mouth, I saw the straightest, whitest teeth I’d ever seen on a man. He was dressed in a three-piece Italian gray suit with matching gators. Nigga looked like a Mafioso or some shit.
He walked up to me and extended his hand. I shook it slowly. I wanted to feel those hands. You can tell a lot about a nigga just by his hands. They weren’t too soft but not too hard like he did hard labor. I could tell this nigga worked out at least five to six times a day. My God! This nigga now had me a believer. Believer that he probably had a big ass, thick dick hanging from between his legs.
“Nice to meet you,” I said and smiled. My eyes were unblinking as they attached to this man’s sexy ass face.
“Have a seat. I’ll take it from here, Debra,” he said to the church receptionist. “Well, we wel
come you to our sanctuary, Ms. Spearman. Be blessed!” she said and walked out of the office, closing the door.
I sat down in the seat in front of his big oak desk. He took a seat, cleared his throat and rummaged through a manila folder in front of him.
He was quiet as he read through I guess some paperwork that had been sent over to him. While he kept his eyes locked to the paperwork in front of him, I scanned his office while the smell of his cologne wafted in the air. That shit was driving me insane! Bitch, my pussy was getting so damn wet just smelling him! I was literally to the point where I was gonna have excuse myself and check on my kitty.
“So, Ms. Spearman…,” Pastor Kevon uttered and then cleared his throat. “Three hundred hours is what you have to give us. We have multiple functions around the church. We have a pantry. A daycare. Several mentoring programs. Although I know you’re doing this as a service requirement for probation, we might have to still background check you since you may end up volunteering with some of our babies. I’ll have to check with Pastor Wilson to see what he—”
Suddenly Pastor Kevon was caught off guard by two knocks on the door. “It’s open. Come in!”
The office door opened. “Pastor Wilkins! Just the man I wanted to see!”
“Hey, Pastor Wilson! I was just mentioning to you.”
Chapter Eight
“Oh, what were ya’ll talking about?” Pastor Wilson asked in a deep, heavy, semi-country accent.
I turned around in my seat and looked at the man. I’d seen his face before from somewhere. I just couldn’t remember. Hrrrm…I had to think about this one for a sec.
He glanced down at me with a huge smile stretched across his dark brown face. “And who are you, young lady?” he asked.
“Hi…My is Nashawna. Nashawna Spearman.”
Pastor Kevon cleared his throat and said, “Pastor Wilson – Nashawna here is going to be doing some community service with us.”
