Street Divas

by De'nesha Diamond

  Christopher inches toward me.

  “And if you piss on yourself again, I’m whupping your ass. You hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” His lips tremble as he swipes away his tears and climbs into the bed.

  I start tying him down with nylon rope. Still he has the nerve to be up in here sniffing and crying. “Cut it out,” I snap. “I wouldn’t have to do this shit if your damn daddy knew how to bring his ass home some damn time. But nooooo. He thinks chasing pussy is more important than taking care of his own damn kid. Well, fuck that shit. I ain’t the bitch to be sitting on a damn shelf, flicking my clit until he feels like rolling his ass over here. If he’s going to be out in the streets, then, dammit, so am I.”

  “Ow!” Christopher yelps. “That’s too tight.”

  “Boy, if you don’t man the fuck up . . . It’s tight because I don’t want your ass to move.”

  Fat crocodile tears roll down the boy’s face.

  “Your damn momma should be rolling around in her grave. She ain’t done nothing but raise a big fucking crybaby.” The smell of piss hits my nose. “What the fuck?” I look down and see this big fucking pee stain spreading across my good white sheets. I reflexively pop this nigga on the side of his big-ass watermelon head. “What the fuck did I tell you?”

  Christopher breaks down whimpering and crying.

  “You know what? You want to be a big baby and piss on yourself, then fine. You’re going to lie in that piss.” This muthafucka starts crying harder and working my nerves.

  “Please, Ms. LeShelle. Don’t tie me down. I won’t go nowhere. Please.”

  “I swear to God. You don’t know how good your ass has it. You got a roof over your head. We feed you. Ain’t nobody beating your ass or sneaking in here in the middle of the night and doing all kinds of perverted shit to you. I wish all I had to do was lie in bed and go to sleep. Now shut the fuck up and take your ass to sleep before I really give you something to cry about.”

  Christopher presses his lips together, but he still sniffs and whines like a little bitch. I shake my head. This little cum stain is the spitting image of his father, right down to the horseshoe-shaped birthmark on his neck.

  I turn and storm out of the room before I do something to his lil ass I’ll regret. In my bedroom, I grab this sexy black lace see-through dress and shimmy it over my silver rhinestone pasties on my nipples and matching thong. Afterward, I take one look in the mirror. I feel and look like the fuckin’ queen that I am. After sliding my feet into some cute Louboutin heels, I grab my clutch bag and then stroll my fine ass out the door, tossing deuces to an empty bedroom.

  The minute I roll up into Passions, I see the club bumping with all the usual suspects. “Goddamn it feels good to be home,” I shout above the music, and watch as niggas’ heads whip around.

  “Damn, bitch,” Kookie and Pit Bull say in unison as they plow through the crowd to get at me.

  Kookie takes the shit one step further. “Does Python know your ass is out here naked and shit?”

  I roll my eyes. “I ain’t studdin’ that nigga. I’m out here doin’ me.” Turning my smile toward Pit Bull, I reach into my clutch and hand her ass a small box. “Happy birthday, bitch. Don’t say I ain’t never got you nothing.”

  “Thanks, girl. C’mon over to our booth. We’re tossing up bottles of Cristal and puffing on some of that blueberry AK-47 that you like.”

  “Puff, puff, pass, bitches!”

  “Holler!” Pit Bull holds up her glass and takes me by the hand.

  As we make our way through the club, I grin and cheese my ass off as niggas damn near give themselves whiplash as I walk by. Some of them are even licking their lips and twisting up their faces as if I was putting a hurting on their damn hard-ons. Now the game is to see which of these muthafuckas are going to be man enough to step to me and not fear the blowback from Python. Shit. There’s no crime in dancing with a muthafucka.

  “Here you go, girl,” Pit Bulls says, handing me a drink. “Happy birthday to me and hallelujah that you came out of your cave to come hang with your girls tonight.”

  The family of Queen Gs sitting at the table all hold up their glasses and shout, “Cheers, bitches!”

  After I toss back a few sips of my drink and hit one of Pit Bull’s fat blunts that’s been in serious rotation a couple of times, I’m relaxed as fuck and scanning the crowd again looking for the right nigga to man up.

  “Shit. I don’t blame you for bouncing tonight,” Kookie says, reaching for the blunt in my hand. “With Lemonhead back on the scene, I’m sure you need to blow off some steam.”

  I twist my neck around. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Kookie pretends to look shocked. “What? You don’t know, girl? McGriff told me that jump-off had the nerve to roll her retarded ass up over at the construction warehouse, demanding to see Python. Showed her ass off real good.”

  This bitch just blew my muthafuckin’ high. “Girl, I ain’t studdin’ that yellow bitch,” I lie.

  “I know you ain’t, girl. And I don’t blame you. Python probably rolled over there tonight to set her ass straight.”

  “He did what?”

  She continues with her innocent act. “Didn’t you know? McGriff texted me before I left tonight that he and his niggas are parked outside on security.” She glances at her diamond Rolex. “Shit. That was a while ago.” She presses the blunt against her lips and takes a deep toke and then slowly blows that shit into my face.

  No this bitch didn’t.

  Knowing exactly what this bitch is doing, I pop up out of my chair and pimp-slap her ass straight out of the muthafuckin’ booth.

  “DAMN!” the entire table roars as they bounce up out of their seats to try and get a better view.

  “What the fuck?” Kookie yells, clutching the side of her face.

  “I’m getting sick of your ass tryna rise up, bitch!” I rear back and kick her upside the fuckin’ head. “Have you forgotten who the fuck I am?”

  Dazed, Kookie tries to scramble away, but I grab hold of the back of her head and snatch out two of her tracks.

  “LeShelle, please—stop!”

  “You want me to stop, then apologize, bitch.” I deliver a second kick to the side of her gut that she has strapped down with a couple gridles.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she says after I’ve chased her ass all the way to the fuckin’ dance floor.

  I force myself to stop kicking, but I stand over her while blood drips from her mouth and nose. “If you ever come at me sideways again, I’ll put a fuckin’ bullet in the back of your goddamn head and then piss on your muthafuckin’ grave. You hear me, bitch?”

  Kookie nods while she tries to breathe with a cracked rib.

  Not until I turn to storm back to the booth do I even realize that the music has stopped and the entire club has formed a huge circle around us. “What the fuck? I thought we were having a fuckin’ party up in here?”

  On cue, the DJ pumps the music again, and niggas part to let my ass through. When I make it back to the booth, I pluck the blunt out of rotation and grab my clutch. “I’ll catch up with you bitches later.”

  “You’re leaving?” Pit Bull asks, unconcerned about her partner in crime still bleeding over by the dance floor.

  “Yeah, girl. This fuckin’ club is whack. You do you.” I stop. “Consider my ass not stomping you into the floor with your lil buddy over there as another birthday gift.”

  “But—”

  “Bye, bitch.” Puffing on their shit, I strut out of the club. The minute I walk out of the fuckin’ door, my mind zooms back to Python and his creeping ass. Once again, every miscellaneous bitch on the street knows what time it is before my ass does, and I’m getting fuckin’ tired of this shit.

  Calling Python all kinds of muthafuckas as I march back to the car, my ass actually slips up and I don’t even hear muthafuckas coming up behind me until it’s almost too late. My hand dives into my clutch, and when I turn around,
I have my cute .38 ready to blast.

  “Yo, white flag,” this young bitch yells at me.

  I frown at her scarred-up cheeks and then glance at the two chicks standing behind her. “Start talking because I don’t know you bitches.”

  “That’s all right because I ain’t looking for no new friends, especially with a bitch whose sister fucked up my face.”

  She got my attention with that. I take another look at the ugly gashes on the chick’s face, and I feel a certain level of pride in Ta’Shara’s handiwork. Who in the fuck knew that she even had that shit in her? “So what the fuck do you want, and why the hell are you rollin’ up on me in the middle of the night if you’re not looking to get blasted?”

  “Look, if I wanted to blast, I would have got your ass the minute you strolled out of that muthafuckin’ club. Shit. I’d even be a hero, considering the price on your head for dumping a whole clip into our chief’s lil brother—especially now that his ass is awake.”

  “What?”

  “Oh? You didn’t know about that, did you? Yep. Ta’Shara’s boyfriend is up and talking. Shit. If you think we’ve been painting the streets with your soldiers’ blood, you ain’t seen nothing now that Fat Ace is rehabbing, too.”

  “Well, ain’t you the muthafuckin’ snitch?”

  “You mean sort of like that lil bitch Essence you got patrolling the hospital?”

  I smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course not. Just like you don’t know that she’s been snitching on you to Lucifer.”

  My eyes narrow on this bitch.

  She cheeses at me. “She’s the one who gave up those niggas who raped Ta’ Shara. It’s just a matter of time before Lucifer comes after you. C’mon, after what the fuck you did, you think we’d let a Queen G visit Profit without a reason ?”

  Damn. I can’t even find a good-ass snitch in these streets.

  “So what do you want?” I ask, tired of waiting for her to get to the point.

  “I want you to dust the bitch off.”

  I laugh. “You come to me to do your wet work?”

  “Orders on high say that the girl can’t be touched, but if you knocked her off . . .”

  “The last thing on my bucket list is to do a muthafuckin’ Flower a favor,” I sneer, opening the car door. There’s a piece of paper taped onto the steering wheel. I pick it up and read, TICKTOCK.

  Suddenly there’s a squeal of tires, and I look up in time to see a silver Terrain blazing down the street. “FUCK! GET DOWN!”

  We all dive for cover.

  RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!

  RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT!

  Bullet after bullet slams into my Crown Victoria, shattering the windows and causing glass to cascade over us.

  “TICKTOCK, BITCH!”

  A second later, we all lift our heads with our gats cocked and ready to blast back, but the silver SUV is gone.

  “Who in the fuck was that?”

  I look down at the piece of paper in my hand and laugh. “You know what, ladies? I think that we can do business together.”

  Justice

  35

  Essence

  August ...

  “She’s in a mental hospital?” Profit asks with his face twisting in pain. From the moment he was pulled off the respirator, he’s been asking about Ta’Shara nonstop. When Lucifer and Fat Ace can’t distract him or get his mind focused solely on getting better, they turn to me to give him the bad news.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “But she sort of checked out. The doctors say that she may snap out of it at any time or she . . .”

  “Can remain that way for the rest of her life,” he finishes my sentence, and then turns his gaze back up to the hospital ceiling.

  I get uncomfortable at the sight of tears rolling out of the corners of his eyes, but for the first time, I think I actually get it. After months of telling Ta’Shara that she was crazy for risking her life to be hooking up with this boy, I think I understand what she couldn’t explain.

  And I’m jealous.

  “I want to see her,” Profit says after a long silence. “I called her parents, but Mr. Douglas screamed at me for not telling them that I was in a gang, and then he said something about polishing me off if I ever even think about seeing Ta’Shara again. Funny, huh? I’m lying in this hospital because of her sister and yet somehow I get blamed.”

  He sucks in a deep breath and then swipes at his tears. “I couldn’t do anything. There were just too many of them and . . . they made me watch. How? How could she do something like that to her own sister?”

  “First you’d have to understand that LeShelle isn’t exactly human. She’ll do anything to stay on top, and you two together threatened that for her. I tried to warn Ta’Shara, but she clearly kept remembering a different sister than the one she has now.”

  Profit shakes his head as more tears roll. “At one point, Ta’Shara stopped fighting. The look on her face . . . I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

  Without thinking, I reach over and squeeze his hand. I want to say something, but what? I saw Ta’Shara that night—I saw what those muthafuckas did to her body. I can’t begin to imagine having to go through anything like that, let alone live with the knowledge that my own flesh and blood ordered the deed done.

  “Right now I wish that I could explain to her foster parents what really happened that night.”

  “Please don’t blame them. They’re really hurt right now. I’m sure if they knew that I was a Queen G, they would ban me, too.”

  Profit tilts his head. “Hey, maybe you can get me in to see her?”

  “Me?” I blink stupidly at him. “I don’t know about that.”

  “What? Why not? You’re on the guest list—you can get me in.”

  I throw my hands up and shake my head. “No, no. I’m already in over my head in this shit. I don’t like the fact that two of the meanest bitches on the street even know my fuckin’ name, and now you want me to risk getting put on the Douglas’s shit list, too?”

  Profit levels his puppy-dogs eyes on me and then flashes me his cute dimples. “Please? I have to see her.”

  I shake my head, but I’m already caving—and he knows it.

  Two hours later, I get Profit situated in a hospital wheelchair. Since there is no way I’m going to get him past the two large Vice Lords posted outside the door, we included them in our scheme to take him over to the mental hospital to see Ta’Shara. Frankly, I didn’t think either of them would go for it, but clearly the VL soldiers have developed a weak spot for Profit and actually help me get him past the nurses’ station and drive us to the hospital.

  The entire time, I’m calling myself every name in the book. I know that continuing to be involved in all this is dangerous, but here my dumb ass is, hanging with the Vice Lords more now than with my own set. That shit is not good.

  “Stop beating yourself up,” Profit says, snickering. “No woman can say no to this face.”

  “I see all those bullets didn’t do shit to your fucking ego,” I say.

  He laughs and I have to admit that I like its rich sound. During the short drive, I can’t stop sneaking looks over at him. His six-foot-three frame is leaner than usual, and he looks white instead of his usual honey color, but none of that takes away from him being fine as hell. While I’m staring, he glances over at me and smiles.

  “What?” he asks.

  “Huh? Oh. Nothing.” Feeling the heat in my face, I jerk my gaze back around so I can pay attention to the road.

  There’s a weird silence between us for a couple of miles before Profit says, “If I haven’t said it already, I really want to thank you for being here these last few months. I know this shit has put you in an awkward position between the sets.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Are you kidding me? I’ve met LeShelle. I have more than a damn good idea, but I’ll tell you what—her ass needs to be checking for me, ’cause I’m coming after that as
s. I done told my brother and Lucifer to step back off that bitch. I personally want to handle this shit.”

  I draw in a deep breath and shake my head.

  “What?”

  “This is how this shit keeps going. A nigga shoots one nigga and then his family come hard at the shooter to take him out. But then that family gets pissed and wants revenge, so they come in hard after that family, and on and on and on it goes. The shit never stops. We stay at war.

  “And you want to talk about scary? How about that bitch Lucifer? What the hell is up with her? I toss her a few names and she goes after muthafuckas by cutting off their dicks and shoving them down their throats? That’s sick.”

  Profit shrugs. “She likes doing wet work. Other than that, she’s a sweetheart.”

  “Right. These bitches out here are as crazy as the niggas, if not more so. It’s like they got something to prove. Like you don’t need balls to have balls.”

  He laughs, but this time it annoys me.

  “What’s so fucking funny?”

  “You. If you feel that way about it, why the hell are you a Queen G?”

  “Because I was born into this shit,” I snap. “That’s why and I’m sick of it. And after seeing what happened to my girl Ta’Shara . . .” I shake my head. “I got to get the hell up out of here.” I glance back over Profit. “That used to be Ta’Shara’s goal until she met you.”

  Profit’s large caramel-colored eyes look wet. “So you think this shit is all my fault, too?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Actually you did. If Ta’Shara never hooked up with me, then she wouldn’t be sitting in a crazy hospital right now.”

  What the hell am I supposed to say to that shit? No, I didn’t intend to say it, but the truth is the truth, right?

  We squash the conversation and ride the rest of the way to the hospital in silence. Once we park, Profit’s guardians climb out of their SUV and help me get Profit back into the wheelchair so I can roll him into the hospital.

  The receptionist pulls her nose out of a book as we stroll in. Her eyes widen at the sight of the two big niggas strolling in behind me. “Uh, hello, Ms. Blackmon. You’re here late.”