Street Divas

by De'nesha Diamond

My survival instincts kick in, and I sneak another look toward the door. “Who are they looking for—me or Python?”

  “Python—from what I hear.”

  I exhale a quick breath but know all that shit can change if Ta’Shara and her Vice Lord lover start snitching. I need to find out what the hell is going on with that situation, but no doubt if I pop up, Tracee and Reggie will be in my face bumping their gums and riding my nerves. “Yo, Kookie. See if you can find Ta’Shara’s friend for me.”

  “Who dat?”

  “Um, Essence, I think it is. She stays around the block.” At Kookie’s silence, I add, “Cleo’s little sister.”

  “Oh. A’ight.”

  “Tell her I need her to peep that situation with Ta’Shara and her man, and then I need for her to get back at me.”

  “You think she’ll do that? I mean, if they friends and all.”

  “Persuade her ass,” I snap. “If she has a problem fulfilling her obligation to the Queen G family, then put your foot in her ass.”

  Christopher suddenly appears at the door, looking like an ashy and nappy-headed mess. “I’m hungry,” the bastard whines. Why didn’t Python grab this nigga some clothes while he was kidnapping muthafuckas?

  I cut my eyes over at this annoying lil fuck. I can literally feel my blood pressure jump. “Hold on, Kookie.” I drop my cell phone from my ear and yell, “Tell your damn daddy that you’re hungry. I ain’t y’all’s damn cook and maid up in this bitch!”

  He drops his head lower, and that shit gets me rolling my eyes harder. “I don’t believe this shit.” I put the phone back up to my ear. “Kookie, girl, let me call you back. I gotta feed Python’s whiny-ass son. Looks like the only name change I’m gonna get is Mammie around here.”

  Kookie laughs. “A’ight, girl. You hang in there. That nigga is gonna do the right thing.”

  “Humph. It better be soon. That’s all I know. Handle that situation for me and call me back.” I disconnect the call and drag in a deep breath. “Seven years old and don’t know how to feed himself,” I huff under my breath. “This is bullshit.”

  Stomping across the large bedroom in a pair of booty shorts and a tight tee, it takes everything I have not to shove the boy out of my way. When I storm into the huge open space that’s currently serving as our living room, Python is running on a treadmill, with his top lieutenants, overseers, and enforcers huddled around talking business as well as strategy.

  At the sight of Python’s chiseled hard-body covered with tats and sweat, my clit starts jumping. Sure he looks like a massive pit bull running on that muthafucka, but he has my ass trained well to respond when he’s pumping that much testosterone around. If none of these niggas was up in here, I’d be trying to relieve some of my own stress.

  “C’mon in here,” I tell Christopher, and lead him into the kitchen. But when I open the fridge and then the cabinets, there ain’t shit up in this muthafucka. “Ain’t this about a bitch?!”

  Storming back out of the kitchen, I make a beeline straight toward Python, who’s stepping off the treadmill and toweling the sweat from around his neck. “That nigga is some fuckin’ where,” he growls. “Big muthafucka like that ain’t just disappeared into thin air.”

  “Yo. We’re trying. We got a couple of plants at the hospital, but there’s as many Vice Lords crawling around that muthafucka as police officers. This shit ain’t easy. Not by a long shot. Unless we’re rolling up in there like we did last time, we’re going to have to be patient with this one,” McGriff says.

  Python’s face damn near twists off. “Fuck that. We’re in a him-or-me situation now. I can’t rest until I know that nigga is six feet under. This ain’t about money, drugs, territory, or even bitches right now. You feel me?” he barks at McGriff. “As many plugs as I put in that muthafucka, he should be down. But I’m starting to think he and his brother eat bullets like muthafuckin’ vitamins.”

  McGriff nods. “I feel you. That young nigga took a whole damn clip. Them niggas must’ve made a deal with the devil or something.”

  Python flings his towel, and the shit snaps against the right side of McGriff ’s face. The nigga jumps, his eyes bug in shock.

  “You finished admiring those niggas?” Python barks, thrusting out his chest and looking like he’s two seconds from jumping his own right-hand man. The whole room goes quiet. If a fly floated between these two niggas right now, bullets or fists would start flying.

  McGriff swallows and finds his voice. “Nah, man. It ain’t nothing like that. I’m thinking we need to come at them with something harder, is all. I got no love for none of those hooks. You know that.”

  Python remains in a fighting stance. It’s clear in his face that he’d rather fight this shit instead of hug it out.

  “C’mon, Python,” McGriff says, flashing a nervous smile. “You know how I feel about those fuckin’ slobs.”

  Python grunts and then turns his back on his nigga. Despite his two-hour workout, we can all still see the tension coiled in every inch of his body. “I want that muthafucka found—today.”

  Normally, I would try to stay away from him when he’s in a black mood, but not today. I’m pissed at his ass. Folding my arms, I huff an impatient breath to get his attention.

  Python glances over and gives me the shut-the-fuck-up look and then turns back toward his nigga.

  McGriff clears his throat. “We also need to see about bringing Momma Peaches out here. It ain’t safe with her alone on Shotgun Row right now. I’m concerned about a blackout being ordered.”

  “Blackout on me?” Python’s chest swells up while outrage twists his face. “Those muthafuckas want to murk my whole family? Fuck that. We’re going at this nigga hard. I want that nigga’s family tree wiped clean. Feel me? I want the streets red with blood.”

  McGriff tosses up his hands. “We’ve tried that shit before, remember? Ain’t a whole lot known about that nigga. Hell, we were all surprised to learn that the muthafucka even had a brother last year.”

  “Well the bastard didn’t crawl out from up under a rock.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. Those fuckin’ hooks did a good-ass job hiding his peoples. Our best bet is to go at his soldiers hard, take out as many of those muthafuckas as we can. We do that, we’re liable to smoke that big nigga out.”

  I can tell by reading my nigga’s face that shit ain’t good enough. He wants to go medieval—put that nigga’s head on a pike and roll through every hood in the city to let those niggas know that the nasty fuck was murked and who the hell did the shit.

  “If you want to get a king’s attention, you don’t go after pawns,” I tell McGriff. “You go after the nigga’s queen.”

  Python smirked. “I already did that, remember?”

  Melanie wasn’t his queen. She was yours. “Shit. That crooked pig could’ve just been his jump-off . . . or a way to keep tabs on you.”

  Python’s jaw tightened. I struck a nerve.

  “What about that other bitch I’ve heard so much about? That right-hand evil bitch they call Lucifer. Maybe she’s really his queen.” I fold my arms. “Most ride-or-die chicks are.” My gaze raked Python up and down. “Even when the man they’re banging for don’t realize it.”

  All the niggas start exchanging looks, like this shit never occurred to them.

  For the first time in days, Python smiles. “Beauty and brains.” He glanced over to his boys. “McGriff—”

  “I’m on it,” he says, hopping up from the edge of the sofa.

  “And about Momma Peaches,” Python barks. “Beef up security. The only way she leaving Shotgun Row is by body bag—she already told me that much.”

  McGriff sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head like his boss. “Done. But I gotta tell you that between them hooks and the po-po rolling through, they’re gonna take a serious hunk out of our cheese. Niggas are gonna gripe about tryna eat.”

  Python looks unmoved as he sits down on a weight bench and starts on his arm curls. “Tell them niggas to
squash that bullshit. We are at war. We lose and ain’t nobody gonna eat.” He does a few more curls and shakes his head. “What’s with these young, pussy-fucks? Niggas need to man up, show that they’re down with the cause. This shit is not a drill. The first soldier who steps up with that bullshit you put your foot in that ass. I mean that shit. Get them niggas to fall in line.”

  “Done,” McGriff says, looking eager to leave.

  Python’s gaze cuts back over to me and what I got on. “Speaking of which, what up, Shelle?” He slaps me on the ass and then watches it jiggle. “What have I told you about parading around in shit like this when my niggas are over here?”

  Nigga, is you for real? “Your son is hungry,” I say, clucking my tongue.

  Python’s face twists up. “And?”

  I roll my neck. “And what do you think?”

  “Ain’t this about a bitch?” he swears under his breath, and then looks at McGriff. “Niggas ain’t shit. Bitches ain’t shit.”

  “Excuuuuse me?”

  A vein twitches along his jaw as his black gaze returns to mine.

  “Who the fuck you callin’ a bitch? That bastard is yours not mine. Dig his damn momma back up and tell her ass to breastfeed him.”

  Python drops his barbell and comes up swinging. I hear the slap probably a good three seconds before I feel the pain explode on the left side of my face. By that time, I’m on the floor and blinking stars from my eyes.

  Quick as a black panther, Python’s massive frame crouches over me. “Look around down there and see if you can find your damn mind, bitch. Who the fuck are you talking to?”

  I touch my bottom lip and see that it’s bleeding. “Fuck you!”

  Chairs screech all around us, and suddenly niggas start making excuses to leave.

  “Yo. We catch up with you later, man,” McGriff says, holding his fist up for a quick bump before rushing toward the door.

  “Ayo, G.” Python calls McGriff back while I pull myself off the floor.

  “Whassup?”

  “Take Lil Man with you. Get him a Happy Meal or something while Shelle and I discuss a few things for a minute.”

  “A’ight, cool.” McGriff turns toward Christopher. “C’mon, Chris. You heard your old man.”

  Christopher hesitates, but when he sees Python reach for his weight-lifting belt, a fire lights under his ass and he scrambles out the door with the other GD niggas.

  I have an idea of what Python thinks he’s about to get started, and I turn back toward the bedroom.

  “Now where in the fuck do you think you’re going?”

  “Fuck you, Python. I ain’t in the mood for your bullshit.”

  WHAP!

  I jump at the feel of the silver spikes on his leather belt biting into my skin. “OW! Stop it, Python! I don’t feel like fuckin’ with you right now!”

  His other hand whips across my right side, and another explosion of stars flashes behind my eyes, but this time I come back around with my claws out. My clit starts thumping the moment my nails sink into his lower left cheek and then rake upward.

  “FUCK!” he roars.

  The sight of blood pouring from the four large jagged lines before my claws are extracted from his face gives me this crazy-ass high that has me laughing like a maniac. In the next second, Python backhands me so hard that it actually lifts me off the floor and sends me crashing into the glass coffee table. Glasses, dishes, and even a toolbox and some other shit crash down around my head, but I still can’t stop laughing.

  “Oh. You like that shit, do you?” He touches his face and sees the blood, but then a sinister smile carves its way onto his ugly face. “You want to play rough, baby? I got something for your ass. I’m tired of you always talking shit.” He lunges with his fist soaring toward my face like a locomotive.

  A rush of adrenaline surges through me, and I shift my head out of the way and hear Python’s fist hit the hard floor littered with glass. His painful roar has me convinced that there’s nothing but concrete beneath this thin, cheap-ass carpet. If he hadn’t just been trying to knock my ass out, I might feel sorry for him. As it is, I push him over to the side while he tries to shake the pain out of his bruised hand.

  “Serves your ass right,” I tell him, getting up.

  He rolls over onto his back—now half laughing and moaning.

  I want to stay mad a little longer, but a smile tugs at my lips and I end up climbing on top of him and straddling him. “Aww. Did you hurt your hand?”

  Python’s black gaze shifts over to me. At the same time, I can feel his fat dick inching up against the back of my ass. “Let me see it.” With a pout, I reach for his hand. When I see his bleeding knuckles, I moan in sympathy. “Aww. Poor baby.” I bring it up to my mouth and then mop up the tangy blood with my tongue. “Mmmm.”

  Python hikes up a brow, but then another smile tugs at his lips. “Your ass is fuckin’ out of control.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t like it.” I take his hand and then plant it underneath my shirt. Like a good boy, he squeezes my shit and gives me that little taste of pain that I’ve been dying for. Reaching behind me, I slide my hand beneath the elastic waist of his black sweatpants, and I grab that fat cock and start beating that shit to get him ready.

  “Ah. That’s why you’ve been mouthing off. Your ass wanna get fucked.”

  “You know it, nigga.” I tighten my hold on his shit. “Why the fuck I always gotta beg for what supposed to belong to me?” Fast as a whip, I grab a pair of pliers from the floor and lock that shit on his fat meat before he has a chance to process it.

  Python jerks up with a loud hiss. “Ow! What the fuck?”

  “Oooh. Looks like I finally have your attention.”

  “Fuck! Ease up!”

  “Nah. Fuck that shit,” I yell, and give his shit a good yank. “I’m tired of this fuckin’ bullshit. You’re still messin’ with that retarded yellow bitch?”

  “W-what?” He tries to grab my hand, but my next yank has this muthafucka seeing stars.

  “Stop playing me stupid, Python. You know I’m talking about your girl Lemonhead. Why is this bitch still in the picture? Ain’t you learned your lesson about fucking with these fake-ass bitches?” I yank on his shit some more. “Every time I turn around, these bitches are crawling out of the woodwork like roaches. You like roaches, muthafucka? Is that it?”

  “Shelle, baby, please.”

  “Aww. I’m your baby now? What happened to all those bitches you were calling me a little while ago?”

  “I-I’m sorry.”

  “You sorry?” I cock my head. “Damn right you’re sorry.”

  He yelps and bangs his head back on the floor. As long as I got his ass like this, I’m definitely running shit. When I let go, I know we gonna go at it. That shit is okay. As long as I make my muthafuckin’ point, it’s all good. “You’re in the trouble you are in now because you can’t stop digging in these other bitches’ asses. That cop told you she was carrying your baby and now this ho. What makes you think that bastard is yours?” While he writhes beneath me, I yank again. “Because she told you so? Didn’t McGriff and Tyga stretch her shit out at the Pink Monkey, too? What makes you think that baby ain’t their seed—or any other nigga who’ll toss her ass fifty cents?”

  Through his pain, our eyes connect again.

  “Uh-huh. You didn’t think I knew about that shit, did you? I ain’t forgot how shit works down at the Pink Monkey. I used to toss your salad in the VIP, remember?” I take a chance and release his dick and then mush him in the head. “Get your head off her fat ass and start thinking for once.”

  “Chronic,” Python’s ringtone, starts blaring, and I look around until I see his phone vibrating in a pool of broken glass that used to be the coffee table. I reach for it and sure enough, Lemonhead is stretched across the screen. My eyes narrow as I toss the phone over and let it hit him in the center of his chest. “Handle that bitch . . . or I will. That’s a muthafuckin’ promise.”

/>   21

  Essence

  Niggas are talking.

  In fact, for the last two days there’s been more bullshit shoveled around than anyone knows what to do with. Topics jump around the Python and Fat Ace showdown, the captain of police’s dead daughter and his missing grandson, the botched hit on Fat Ace’s lil brother, and the fact that LeShelle sanctioned her own sister’s rape into the Queen Gs, which landed the girl in a mental hospital. It all sounds like a soap opera on crack. The tension on the streets has never been thicker. Muthafuckas keep reminding each other to constantly watch they back. Retaliation is coming; we all know that much—it’s the when and how that has us all staring at our own shadows sideways.

  Even in FabDivas Hair Salon, bitches have their faces all twisted while they toss in their two cents.

  “Shit. I think the fat bastard is dead,” my sister Cleo says as she lowers her head back over the sink.

  Ms. Anna, the shop’s owner, starts attacking her scalp like there’s three years’ worth of dirt caked on her head.

  “Shit. That would be a blessing and a curse,” Pit Bull says, shaking her head. She is finally getting that tacky-ass silky-straight weave out of her head. “A blessing because the ruthless bastard has been put down and a curse because those Vice Lords will be coming at us with everything they got, especially that evil bitch Lucifer. Word on the street is she’s worse than that one-eyed monster in charge now.”

  “Shit. She can’t be any worse than LeShelle’s medieval ass.” Kookie laughs. “Hell, if y’all knew half the shit this bitch has sanctioned, y’all be running up in somebody’s church tryna get saved.”

  Ms. Anna surprises everyone and pipes in, “Both those bitches have bigger balls than most niggas I know.”

  Pit Bull grabs her crotch. “Speak for yourself. My shit sags real low.”

  Everyone chuckles uncomfortably because it’s been rumored that the butch bitch is either a transvestite or one of those weird muthafuckas who have both man and woman private parts. But who the hell knows. As much as she talks about her balls, she flips the script and talks about her pussy just as much. I don’t know what the hell she got going on down there, and I sure as fuck don’t give a damn.