Feeling my phone vibrate, I looked down to see Spice had texted a multi-media message, cursing Zaria’s existence and me at the same time. There were no hard feelings on my end toward her at this point. Spice had every reason to turn up on me. However, it was not in my DNA to take cops. It was what it was, and she knew how messy shit could get when baby mommas were involved.
Real talk, Spice probably was not expecting the ghetto girl fist job Z had put onto her high-class behind. But that’s what she deserved for being in Zaria’s nail shop in the first place. It’s like she caught what she had coming. Her sore scalp and head were reasons to learn a lesson: don’t look for trouble and then throw a pity party. Spice had stepped out of line by searching for beef and creating one between me and mine. This whole chain of events was nothing but a reminder that I needed to get my shit balanced and together with these chicks quick.
Not being one to leave a trail of incriminating text messages, I hit CALL and waited to be connected instead of responding to her typed rants. None of this bullshit would’ve been going down had she fallen back and played the position I’d directed for her. But naw, just like Zaria had bossed up on Melanie, Spice couldn’t resist the urge to claim what she felt was rightfully hers.
“So, I know that low-class baby momma of yours told you her version.” She answered the phone with much expected attitude.
“Not really. I mean, from what I do know, yo’ ass should not have been anywhere near where Zaria gets her nails done. That is the truth pill you need to swallow.” I was not getting ready to cut Spice any slack or baby her into thinking she didn’t deserve consequences.
“Whatever,” she said, smacking her teeth, not wanting to admit the truth. “Look, I’m not about that ghetto life she apparently likes to live, and you can trust I had no intentions of scrapping it up with the little skeezer. Kimmie is in every hair and nail promotional magazine throughout metro-Detroit. Who knew I’d run into yo’ girl?” Spice must’ve taken my street diploma for dumbness, but I was not playing along.
“Kill that lying shit, Spice. I ain’t with it.” In all seriousness, I was starting to need a break from her nagging ways too. Thank God I kept a crib of my own.
“You’re gonna believe what you want anyway. I’m just tired of playing the backfield to someone so beneath me. I’ve given up too much for you. I’ve shown my loyalty.”
“A’ight, ma. Chill on that. We already know you are one hundred for a nigga. You won’t let me live that shit down or forget it.” I was exhausted from repeatedly hearing her throw it up in my face. No matter what issues and drama Spice was having with her peeps, she was not getting ready to strong-arm me into the corner about how I lived my life. “You really need to be easy. I already look out for you and li’l man like he is my own, and I’ve already started to get my baby moms in order. You are doing too much trying to flaunt and throw it in her face, making shit more complicated for me,” I scolded her.
“If you say so, Renard. But please do not make me look like a fool to my father,” she pleaded. “When are you coming home? Li’l man has been asking about you.”
“I’ve got business in the streets. Nothing has changed about that. Pop a Motrin and tell my li’l homie I’ll check for him in a few.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“Yeah, that’s real,” I responded to her affection, refusing to let those three heavy words give Spice more of a reason to try to put me on a leash. “I promise you that I will be home tonight, so cool out.”
“Sure, Renard. We will be here waiting on you, as usual.” She hung up, apparently salty that I had not shown love back. Women nowadays have too much nerve and audacity.
Merging onto the entrance ramp of the John C. Lodge Freeway, I set the cruise control to fifty-five miles per hour and adjusted my mirrors to keep an eye out for the State boys. Their troopers had been out targeting speeders all week, and riding dirty with no license, I was not trying to get caught up in the sting.
Connecting my phone to the car’s audio system, I voice-dialed Izzi and waited on him to answer.
“What up, guy? Are you headed to the block or what?”
“Man, you will never believe the straight bullshit that popped off today. The baby momma and Spice scrapped it up at the nail shop earlier, and Zaria had the nerve to come home bossing up on me.” I spilled my guts to Izzi.
“Dude, you lying. Straight up?”
“Naw, man. But I wish I was. You already know I was not trying to get caught up the between the two of their crazy asses.”
“Yo’ mouth say that, but yo’ dick been making different decisions.” Izzi spoke in that I-told-you-this-would-happen tone.
“To make matters even worse, though, Zaria went through my phone and saw pictures of the kid.” I shook my head, still in disbelief. “She straight clowned.”
“Hell yeah! Why wouldn’t she go straight nuts on yo’ ass, man? I been trying to tell yo’ ass to quit playing mind games with these chicks. Just pick one. But naw, you wanna be an ol’ Rico Suave type nigga.” He laughed, putting me on front street.
“Aw, man, fuck you, dude! I put her back in check hella quick and got Spice waiting on a nigga to pull up. My game is tighter than tight, bro, so you ain’t even gotta worry.” Rubbing at my goatee, I knew Izzi was being real, but nobody liked hearing when they were dead wrong.
“Who do you think you’re fooling? Whether you put Zaria in check or got ol’ girl swinging from your nut sac, you’ll be back over there next week like ain’t shit popped off.” He continued to go hard. “Enough on your sob story, nigga. Business grinding, and you caking.”
“I’m on the e-way, chief. Be cool.”
“But that ain’t exchanging packages or picking up paper, you feel me? You letting them broads fuck yo’ moves up!” Izzi was taking his right-hand man title to the head. “But that’s on you. Don’t let me motivate your change. I’m out to murder these fools on a dice game. Pull up. We out here.”
“Oh, you can believe I’m about to pull up, taking all you jokers’ stacks,” I joked with him, but he’d rubbed me the wrong way. Izzi was starting to get on my bad side. For some reason, I was catching a serious itch from his vibe, and something didn’t sit right. I never allowed people to speak out of term too long, whatever the case might be, and he was doing it a little too much for me. My plan was to put a stop to that disrespect and quick.
* * *
The block was on fire. Fiends and goons were posted up in front of every abandoned house and vacant lot on the poorly maintained block. Izzi and our hired street crew had the corner swarmed with hoodlums and hot hoes, street gambling and socializing. Bringing heat and attention to the otherwise uneventful block, I parallel parked my ride, careful not to scratch the rims.
“Open this door up, nigga.”
I looked over to see a ratchet-acting Melanie tapping on my window. Damn, this ain’t my day at all.
“Yo, what up?” I rolled the window down halfway.
“Um, I’m trying to find out. Can you open the door?” she asked, pulling up on the door handle. “And don’t be rolling the window down on me like I’m a custo.”
With offense in her voice, hesitation was in my moves. Even though I hit the automatic lock and allowed her to slide into my passenger’s seat, deep down inside I knew my messy ex couldn’t be trusted.
“So, where have you been at all day?” Melanie turned in her seat, staring at me. I gave her the bitch-don’t-question-me look, so she continued on to explain, “Me and my girls been over here barbecuing over at the park. I’ve been checking for you to see if you wanted a plate.”
“Yeah, you can fix a nigga a healthy portion, ma.” I had to give Melanie her props. Cooking was her strong suit, keeping a nigga full.
“Okay, I got you on that. But what’s up with us? I’ve been thinking about you lately and how you used to feel up inside me.”
Her pleas weren’t falling on deaf ears. Feeling my dick rise in my boxers, I wished that Mel w
as not so fuckin’ ill-bred. The possibility of having my cake and eating it too was sitting wide-legged right next to me, waiting on a quick ho feel-up, but I had to make a better judgment call. I wouldn’t have had the Magnum all the way down my shaft before she’d be blabbing to her loudmouthed friends, not learning from Zaria’s double-crossing. Ain’t nobody had time for the extra drama Mel would bring, especially with Spice showing up and showing out unexpectedly.
“Girl, chill the fuck out with yo’ needy ass. Don’t keep stalking me for no dick. When I want it, I’ll check for you—trust.” I dismissed all conversation.
“Hold on. Wait a second. So, it’s like that now? After all the history we have with each other, you just gon’ kick me out yo’ ride, nigga? I was down with your ass when you couldn’t carry me on shit but those raggedy-ass handlebars.” She brought a smile to my face, bringing back the old hustle-boy memories. I’d come a long way from being the watch boy working for sneakers.
“Ha! Girl, you tripping. I remember that squeaky piece of shit.” Stopping in mid-step getting out of my car, Mel had taken me back down memory lane. “But we’ve come a long way since then, Mellie-Mel, and there’s no going back.” I knew my words were getting underneath her skin. Unlike Zaria and Spice, of course, Melanie was there for it all, making us have a natural bond. In her case, shit got old, and she got played. I didn’t need any extra temptation from her.
“Dang, Nardo, I just missed having you around. We had fun, that’s all. I just missed you,” she whined with regret in her voice for stepping to my car at all.
“Well, keep on missing me, and don’t slam my car door getting out.” I cut her off completely, stepping out to join my crew.
Izzi never stopped watching with a grim face and folded arms as me and Melanie conversed. For this nigga to be out here reckless, helping to bring heat to the block, he sure was trying to oversee me like a boss.
“What up, playa?” I gave Izzi dap as he scooped up his winnings and threw his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s do this deal.”
CHAPTER SIX
Zaria
Spice had no heavenly idea who she was dealing with. Nardo had crossed me big time and was going to pay a severe penalty. Being a real woman, I could admit that I felt Spice trying to latch onto her seven-course meal ticket that was Nardo, but she was about to have one helluva fight on her hands. I was not interested in the come-up of another chick. After putting in her swing, I set my stalk mission into full effect.
Never hearing of a female with that nickname, I searched on all the social sites for any possible leads to Spice. Nowadays, it’s easy to find out where a person rests their head or frequents the most. Smart phones are snitches, and these social videos help with voice recognition. Fuck helping a nigga build a case on me. I turned every possible GPS locater and tracker on my phone off with a password to turn on.
Having come up with a few hits, I made a fake page and followed her for future reference. It was not needed, though. Spice left her page public, and her preloaded application gave away her direct, pinpointed location. Spice stayed in Novi, Michigan. Damn, that would be a drive from my house, but fuck the dumb shit, it was going down. She could have stayed in Boon Foo Foo, Egypt for all I cared. My so-called replacement was due the second-round ass-whooping fate would deal her ass.
* * *
Cidney was at my mom’s, so it was time to do me. I unquestionably needed some time out, partying to get Nardo off my mind and get my spirits back on point. Still having a banging body post carrying Cid’s eight-pound behind for nine months, I couldn’t wait to get back heavy in the streets of Detroit. With my baby daddy claiming to be out of the picture, getting back into action would be effortless, and all a bitch had to do was appear on the scene.
Taking a long, hot bath with aromatherapy candles, I tried imagining my life was perfect to soothe my nerves. Everything inside of me was tense and worked up. Wanting to release my rage sooner than later on all parties involved, I sipped on the chilled glass of wine, chasing a buzz.
I tossed clothes from all the dresser drawers and off all the hangers, tearing up my small room for something sexy to wear. I had to have all eyes on me, especially since I wanted them to run back and tell my baby daddy they’d seen me slaying. I wanted him jealous and in his feelings for a change. Nardo was notorious for playing a role of not giving a fuck when it came to me, but it was not no secret he’d shit bricks on sight knowing I was flaunting “his” ass all around Motown. Good for him, though—that was the plan.
Finally choosing a soft pink-and-white maxi skirt with matching bow top, I slid them over my butter-smooth skin, making certain all assets popped. I’d considered myself blessed, not having stretch marks or a kangaroo pouch. Accessorizing with a diamond cross pendant, hoop earrings, and the iced-out ring Nardo gave me as a gift for carrying his firstborn seed, everything appeared to be flawless.
Stepping in front of the mirror to check out my oh-so-fine reflection, I immediately knew my shit was on point. After unwrapping my hair and making sure each curl flowed perfectly, I generously applied a coat of Ka’oir Capricorn lipstick and high-popping gloss. Strapping on a pair of white six-inch studded stiletto sandals, seeing my curvaceous behind rise up screaming for attention, I knew tonight was going to be my comeback on the real. Nothing or no one could stop my shine. Grabbing my keys and Louis Vuitton, making sure none of Spice’s tacky braids were left behind, I was out the door in no time, eager to be reintroduced into downtown party life.
Hitting the freeway, I arrived downtown in record time. Pulling my deep cherry red Camaro into the valet line for Floods, I peeped the usual high-rollers and big-spenders were in packs, with loud music and flashy cars. Knowing damn near everyone posted in and around the popular Detroit city bar and grille, every move I made would be calculated because a bitch would be watched. Keeping my windows rolled up and Big Sean’s album on low, I bobbed my head and kept it pretty, knowing even the least obvious hater was watching. Even on my worst day I’d stunt on these hoes, and since I was feeling myself, they were about to get murdered.
“Hey, honey, here’s your ticket.” The valet attendant opened my door with a wide smile. Not being reserved, he checked me out from head to toe.
Stretching one leg out slowly to tease the haters, I replied, “Thank you.” I smiled but was careful not to flirt. Being that he parked cars for pay, he was not my type. So, giving him more than just an eyeful was not worth it. When he pulled my car off toward the reserved section, I marched out solo, making my way past the long line, knowing he’d better not scratch my ride.
Shit, I wish I would think I’m about to join these broke bitches in line.
Standing for entry? Me? Never! It was nothing to jump the ropes, bypassing these nobodies. Being extra cool with the bouncers from my party-all-the-time days, I was not surprised that they held the door open for my entrance. Mission fucking accomplished. Every cluck-cluck left behind in my arrogance was breaking their necks and rolling their eyes. I was not concerned with them no-ranking hoes. My mind was set on revenge against Nardo. Forget partying like a rock star; I was about to stunt like a superstar.
“What up, Z? You looking real good,” one of the bouncers remarked as I strolled in the crowded club. He was one of the brothers I used to kick it with until Nardo upgraded me.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” I giggled, slightly flirting with him. “But you know me. I ain’t never missing a beat.”
“You’re right about that. Yo’ man should’ve tied you up tighter!” he shouted out, acting like Nardo wouldn’t have stomped his ass for even questioning his gangsta.
Giving him a half fake-ass smile, I barely laughed at his comment. I had to watch my words wisely. All eyes were on us, and I didn’t want the wrong word to get back to Nardo. This guy was far from on my radar. “I need VIP. You know I can’t do it any less.”
“There was no doubt in my mind.” He stumbled over his words while placing the paper strip around my tiny wrist. “And
before you leave, holla at yo’ man.” He looked up at me with desperation in his eyes.
“You know it, playa.”
Hell naw, I didn’t have any intention of hooking up with him later, or any other day for that matter. But my ticket inside was free, so what the hell. Making a beeline toward the second bar in the back room and finding a stool, I sat down, ordering a Grey Goose with cranberry juice. The club was packed with all breeds from high rollers to gutter hoes. The pool tables were full, and the dance floor was filled to capacity. Sipping on my drink, letting the sounds take over my body, I tried picking up the eight-count steps the hustlers were throwing down on.
Guys were approaching me left and right, and I was giving them all a little attention too. Well, just enough to take notice of the price of their shoes. My moms always taught me you could judge a true playa by his shoe game. Anyhow, when the Ballroom Hustle came on, finally a step I’d mastered, I jumped off the stool and joined the dancers. I can’t even lie; the drink had me feeling on point, and since I was not nursing Cid, I was ready for round two.
Every set of eyes were definitely on me, and that was a good thing. I’d dropped off the face of the earth going through pregnancy and being under Nardo’s thumb. Especially taking notice of one of his street hustlers in the corner, I thought twice about going to shake my ass on him.
Hmm, I should give them a show.
I moved swiftly off the floor and toward the stalking bouncer whose eyes lit up when he realized I was heading in his direction. He grabbed my perfect body into a big bear hug and started feeling all over my booty, kissing on my neck. Real talk, the shit was grossing me out, but I knew Nardo would know soon that his baby momma was back on the prowl.
Melanie
Being dressed to impress with the most revealing outfit Rainbows had to offer, I held my ground in line, scoping the scene, hoping to see Nardo swerve up. When Zaria’s shiny red Camaro bent the corner, my stomach dropped, and jealousy reared her ugly head.
Loyal to His Lies Page 6
