by Ca$H
Two days later Guru’s body was found inside the trunk of a burned automobile on Avon Avenue. Kendall had sent the message that he was not to be fucked with. If he thought that the gruesomeness he showed in bodying and burning up Guru, a nigga he’d once hustled with, would put fear into CJ’s heart, he should’ve thought again. CJ was a beast, because he feared nothing and no one, plus he had muthafuckaz on his squad who could deliver Kendall to him on a silver platter, without there being an all-out street war.
“Let’s just bury unc, then I’ma get at the nigga who murked him,” CJ told his crew, who were all chomping at their bits to let the streets know that when you fucked with that Little Bricks squad, mothers had better be ready to mourn their sons.
“Daddy, this is my girl Tamika that I’ve been telling you about. Tamika, this is my man Diamond Rick,” said Star, making the introduction in the living room of Diamond Rick’s crib. Star had moved in with him a month ago, but this was Tamika’s first time meeting him. Diamond Rick was definitely eye candy, though he was way too pretty for Tamika’s taste. His ass probably stays in the mirror more than Star does. She thought as she eyed him up and down.
“How you doing, beautiful?” asked Diamond Rick, taking her hand and kissing it.
“I’m fine, and you?” she replied.
“Life is wonderful,” he said.
I bet it is nigga. You done added my girl to your stable, got her working the pole in a strip club to keep your pretty ass living like a boss playa. I ain’t hatin’ on you though. If it wasn’t you macking Star, it would be some other nigga.
Tamika wanted to say what she was thinking so bad it hurt her jaws to hold it in.
“Daddy, Tamika wants me to go furniture shopping with her. Is it okay with you?” asked Star in such a docile tone that made Tamika want to throw up.
“Yeah, it’s all good, just be back in time for work tonight. It’s Saturday and the club is gonna be jumpin’.”
“I will, Daddy. I’m featuring tonight, right?”
“Yeah, and I know you gonna do your thing.”
“I sho’ am. I’m going to make you so much money we’ll have to haul it out in a dump truck,” said Star pecking lips with Diamond Rick before following Tamika out of the house.
Tamika was so hot she thought her hair might catch on fire.
“I’m gonna make you so much money, Daddy…eww!” she said mockingly as they drove off.
“Don’t be a hater,” laughed Star, looking in the mirror on the sun visor.
“Bitch, puhleeze! If you wanna pop your pussy for a living, I’m not knocking ya hustle, but you have to be one dumb ho to shake your ass and give the money to a nigga. Shit, the muhfucka owns the club, why does he need your little bit of paper?”
“How about getting you some business and staying out of mine?” Star replied.
“You’re so caught up in that nigga, you’re not even raising those Bay Bay kids of yours. Got your mama raising ’em like she the one fucked and had ’em. That nigga must be mind-fucking you,” Tamika went on, chastising her girl, who wasn’t tryna hear it.
“You ain’t know?” said Star sucking her teeth.
“If you like it I love it,” Tamika sighed in exasperation.
They shopped for furniture for the den of the condo out in West Orange where CJ and Tamika had moved. The rest of the condo had already been furnished and decorated by Tamika and her Mom Dukes and the crib was laced. The den was to be CJ’s sanctuary so Tamika chose masculine furniture and artwork for that room. She spent almost twenty-five stacks on the Italian leather sofa and recliner, smoke glass coffee and end tables, entertainment center, and plasma TV, all which would be delivered the next day.
After dropping Star back off at Diamond Rick’s house Tamika stopped at a Chinese restaurant to order take-out. Leaving out of the restaurant her eyes locked on a familiar face, and his eyes locked with hers. It was the nigga that had grabbed her ass at the club that night, the one CJ had knocked out as he was being put into the paddy wagon.
“Sup, ma?” he spoke as Tamika passed by him and two dudes that were with him. They had just gotten out of a Jeep.
Tamika ignored him.
“Bitch, tell your nigga his day is comin’, yours too, skank!”
“Yo, Darius,” said one of the dudes to him, whispering something in his ear.
Tamika’s legs trembled as she hurried to her car. Once inside the Q45 she drove off, checking her rearview and saw that the Jeep was three cars behind her. She made a quick left turn to see if the Jeep would follow her. Her heart pounded when she checked her rearview and saw that it had. She quickly speed dialed CJ.
“Sup, baby girl?”
“CJ, that nigga from the club is following me!” Tamika cried, frightened.
“What nigga?”
After Tamika explained the situation to him, CJ told her to hop back on the main street and head to Little Bricks. He continued talking to her as he and Eric, who was rolling with him, headed toward Tamika.
“You strapped?” he asked his baby gangsta lil bruh.
“24/7.”
“I don’t see them behind me anymore,” interjected Tamika with relief. Just a second ago she had been so afraid she had almost peed on herself.
“Just keep coming to me, ma. We ain’t gon’ sleep on them niggaz. I shoulda dealt with dude long ago.”
When Tamika spotted CJ’s Expedition she finally relaxed. CJ was her protector; she feared nothing when he was around. She pulled into a gas station and CJ pulled up next to her. He hopped down out of the truck, which was sitting on twenty-sixes, and looked around for the Jeep that Tamika had described. CJ’s and Eric’s hands were at their waists, ready to pop shit off at the first sign of drama. Darius and his mans had fell back, he had only been taunting Tamika, still foolishly thinking shit was a game despite the murders of his homies.
“I’ma get that bitch niggaz ass,” promised CJ, later that night, holding Tamika in his arms. “Nigga had my boo shook, he gotta pay fa dat.”
Tamika snuggled closer to him, pressing her naked body against his. They were laying in the California king-sized bed in their master bedroom. The satin sheets felt so good against her skin.
“I want you to get him, baby,” said Tamika.
“Shorty, your wish is my command.”
“Is it?”
“No doubt.”
“Well, I wish you would lick the kitty cat for mama tonight.”
“Boo, you ain’t said nothin’ but a word,” proclaimed CJ, laying her on her back and stepping to his business.
ELEVEN
“Gurrlll, I had that glass dick in my mouth taking a big blast, one nigga was licking my titties, and another one with some Morris Chestnut lips was eating my pussy, all at the same time. I nutted so hard I saw Heaven’s doors.” Porcelin romanticized her first time smoking crack.
“Will you please hush, I’m trying to write my boo boo,” said Kayundra becoming irritated with her roomie. “I don’t want to hear no crack escapades. There’s nothing romantic about being a crack head.”
“It takes one to know one,” chided Porcelin.
“Don’t I know it,” responded Kayundra from the small desk in the room where she sat with pen and pretty blue stationary in front of her.
“Yes you do, or you wouldn’t be here, so don’t get all new on me. Anyway, what would you like to talk about? Let me guess…um…Raheem. I’m telling you, you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak, then you’ll run right back to the pipe.”
“Porcelin, I am so not listening to you. Why are you always so cynical?”
“Do you really want me to answer that?”
“No. On second thought I don’t. All I want is peace and quiet so that I can write my snuggles.” Porcelin rolled her eyes and left out of the room. At thirty-two years old, and having gone through mad drama with dudes, Porcelin no longer believed in the fairy tale love that Kayundra spoke of when she talked about Raheem.
Kayundra cleared
her mind of Porcelin’s cynicism and began a long letter to Raheem.
Dear Raheem,
I hope that I am not overwhelming you with the volume of letters that I write to you. It’s just that I think about you all of the time and I can’t help but to put my feelings in a song or a letter. When I write to you it doesn’t feel like you’re so far away.
I miss you more than I ever missed anyone or anything in this world. I know I say that in every letter but it’s so true. If I stopped breathing this very minute, at least I will have known what it’s like to really love a man. It’s strange that you seem so much wiser and focused than me, yet we are the same age. You have a certain sense of calm and purpose that makes it seem that you are prepared for anything that life throws your way. And your gentleness is incomparable. If I had only one day to live, I’d choose to spend those entire 24 hours with you.
Why am I speaking of dying when I’ve only just begun to LIVE! Baby it feels wonderful NOT to be high. I love the feeling of sobriety! When I think of how foul I was living. I just lay on my bed and cry in shame. It’s like I don’t even know that person I had become. That shit had me so down and low, I would steal from my own mama. Anything that could be sold or traded for a rock, including my body, was fair game. My dignity, too.
Now that I’m no longer living like that, I feel so much better about myself and my future. I thank you for giving me the motivation to change. When you got shot it made me realize that if tragedy could come your way then it could easily come to mine, especially with the foul way I was living. I sat at your bedside and watched in amazement as you fought for your life. That made me realize how precious life is. I feel so blessed to have a second chance, and to have a friend like you who loves me for who I am, and for what’s in my heart.
Raheem, I wouldn’t be truthful if I tried to deny wanting much more than a friendship with you. However, regardless to what you say, I know that in order for that to happen I must prove to you that I am stronger than my addiction. Porcelin says that you will never be able to respect and love me completely, because you know of my past. She thinks that I’m better off with someone who knows nothing about my recent past. I keep telling her that there is no one else for me but you. No one, not ever. She is constantly reminding me that you are not my man. But I know that you will be. God brought us back together for a reason and I trust in His judgement.
Love, Kayundra –Your Sparkle.
P.S. I have to go to a group meeting. I will write you again soon.
Rah was touched by Kayundra’s letter though he was not sure that his sense of purpose measured up to how she envisioned it. True, he was gifted academically and planned to become a journalist, but how purposeful was he, when he was still hustlin’ and bangin’ niggaz if they violated?
He would ask himself this question in a moment of self-reflection, not only by Kayundra’s letter but by a recent conversation with Big Ma as well.
Rah had sent Big Ma twenty-five hundred dollars; she had called to tell him that she was returning the money.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it’s the devils money, Raheem. I know that you didn’t earn it honestly. If I accept it from you, I am condoning whatever sin you committed to get that money.”
“Big Ma, everyone sins. All my life you’ve been telling me not to do wrong, that your God will provide a way. I don’t see your God providing nothin’ for nobody in the hood but hard times.”
“Boy, don’t you blasphemy His name,” Big Ma scolded.
“I’m sorry,” Rah apologized.
Big Ma was a Christian, and though Rah praised Allah when he was on his deem, he respected his grandmother’s faith.
“Drugs led to your mother’s murder and was your father’s downfall, long before he did what sent him to prison. If you’re selling drugs, that would really disappoint me,” said Big Ma.
“I’m not selling crack,” Rah offered in lame defense.
“Drugs is drugs, it don’t matter which type.”
Rah knew that Big Ma spoke the gospel but the fast money had him hooked. He tried to justify his greed by not slanging crack, the drug that had turned both of his parents into fiends. His mother, Connie, thirst for crack had enticed her to steal two hundred dollars worth of rocks from a corner hustla. The petty dope boy retaliated by shooting Connie dead in front of Rah and LaKeesha, and dozens of other witnesses.
Devin, their pops, was a fiend but he was still a dangerous nigga. He hustled up enough money to buy a strap off the streets, then he hunted Connie’s killer down and shot the nigga dead just like he’d done her. When the dead boy’s uncle let it be known that he was looking to avenge his nephew’s murder, Devin murked him next.
For both murders Devin caught life up in Rahway.
Rah respected the way his pops rode on the crab ass nigga who killed his moms; that was street justice with no cut. Though time had disintegrated his relationship with his pops and left them both nothing but faded memories of one another, Rah had love for his old dude. Crack may have broke Devin down, but when the worst of the worst happened, he had shown that he would go all out for the one he loved.
“I understand what you’re saying, Big Ma,” Rah conceded as he let out a sigh after reflecting back on his parents’ demise.
He didn’t make any promises, though, because deep down he knew that he wasn’t ready to give up hustlin’. Big Ma heard the conflict in his voice so she hadn’t pressed him; she knew that all she could do was trust in The Lord. She had done her bone-weary best to instill righteousness in Rah and LaKeesha. It had been a constant battle trying to keep them from being tainted by their environment, and now she wondered if she had lost the battle.
Big Ma’s words and worry drove Rah to the mosque in the West End. He had not been to a mosque in several years, but today Rah felt the need to kneel amongst Muslims and pray to Allah for strength and guidance.
He did so with genuine humbleness.
However, Rah was not truly ready to submit to Allah’s will. The Most High can only guide those who are truly accepting of His guidance. Rah was still straddling the fence even as he walked out of the mosque after praying.
Rah had just walked into his apartment, kicked off his Force One’s, and was chillin’ when his cell phone rang. Not recognizing the number that showed on his caller ID, he answered with a dispassionate, “Yeah?”
“Hi baby,” she chirped, putting an instant smile on his face.
“Sup, ma? It’s good to hear your voice. You sound all good and shit,” Rah complimented.
“Thank you. It’s so good to hear your voice too. My heart is beating so fast,” said Kayundra, so excited to be talking to him.
“Yo, where are you calling me from?”
“I’m still at the center. One of the ladies smuggled a cell phone in, she’s letting me use it.”
“That’s what’s up.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you too, shorty. What you been up to?”
“Getting myself together so that I can sparkle for you. I went to a meeting earlier. It was mostly repetitive of many of the other meetings we’ve had. This program is Christian-based and it has helped me to face my demons. But no program works, they tell us, unless we make it work for ourselves. Baby, guess what?” she asked changing subject and sounding enthusiastic. “In five days I’ll be allowed a visit. My mother will come and she’s bringing some home-cooked food. You know I’ma really get my grub on!”
“You gon’ eat a little for me?”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Tell your Mom Dukes I said hello when she visits you. I talked to her a coupla weeks ago, she’s really proud of what you’re doing.”
“I know, she’s my best friend. Besides you, she’s the only one who still believes in me.”
“You believe in yourself, don’t you?” asked Rah remindfully.
“I do,” said Kayundra. “Oh, I wrote a song titled “You’re Like A Dream”. Of course it was inspired by you. I’ll
sing it for you the next time I see you. I wish that could be on my visitation day, but I understand that you can’t come. Well, you could come, but I know you don’t want to boggle my emotions while I’m going through this program. Anyway, my time is running out and I’ll have to give the girl her phone back. Before we say goodbye, I want to read to you a poem I wrote for you. It’s just a little somethin’ somethin’.”
“Blow me away,” he said.
“Okay, you ready?”
“I’m ready.”
Kayundra took a deep breath to calm her nerves then recited:
“I remember, baby, that it was you who told me that love,
does not have to hurt.
That tears on my pillow wasn’t the way that
True love works.
That a healthy love never brings you down,
It lifts you up.
When you were hurt you thought that I was healing you,
But in truth, you were healing me.
You helped me to love myself again, to dream, and to reclaim
My self dignity.
To strive to be the queen that God created me to be.
No matter what life holds for us, baby,
Whether we are destined to be friends, or more,
Like woman and man,
If you ever need unconditional support,
Just reach out your hand.
You’ll feel me reaching out to you.
“Damn, boo, you tryna make a nigga cry?” asked Rah touched by the poem.
“You need to stop! You know you not finna cry,” she giggled.
“Your time is up, Kayundra. You’re not the only one who has a man to call,” Rah heard a woman say playfully in the background.
“Besides, we want you to put on a concert for us,” added another voice, which belonged to Porcelin.
