Street Divas

by De'nesha Diamond

  Vivian’s big brown eyes settle on me before she races across the grass to come and talk with me.

  “Careful,” I say. “You don’t want to fall down.”

  “Malcolm says that we’re going home with you,” Vivian says, sounding way more grown than her three and half years.

  “Well . . . not yet,” I tell her. “I’m working on it.”

  “If you’re our momma, why can’t we go home with you?”

  I glance over at Ms. Terry, looking for some help, but she just quietly folds her arms and lets me handle the question.

  “It’s a long story,” I tell Vivian.

  My little girl blinks up at me like she has nothing but time to wait for my answer. “Well, Momma just had a little problem being able to . . . afford taking care of y’all right now.”

  “I got some money in my piggy bank,” she says. “I can give you some.”

  “That’s sweet of you, honey. But you go ahead and keep your money. Okay?”

  Vivian twists up her face. “What? You don’t want us, then?”

  “Of course I do. I didn’t say that.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  More tears spring to my eyes while shame spreads throughout my body. My ass has been out in these streets, worried about the wrong things—locking down soldiers and trying to become the head Queen G.

  “Malcolm says that you’re about to have another baby,” Vivian continues, interrogating me and staring at my belly.

  “Yeah. I am. In the next few weeks.”

  “Is it going to be a boy or a girl?”

  “The doctors say it’s going to be another boy.”

  Vivian pokes out her bottom lip. “I hate boys. Can you send it back and get a girl? I want a sister.”

  Ms. Terry and I laugh. “Sorry. That’s not how it works.”

  “Is he going to come live with us at foster care, too?”

  Stunned, I suck in a breath. “I . . . uh . . .” Now how do I tell her no when I just told her that I couldn’t afford children?

  “Vivian, why don’t you go back and play with your brothers some more?”

  “Okay.” She shrugs and then takes off back toward the jungle gym.

  “Sorry about that,” Ms. Terry says, reaching over and touching my hand. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  “You have to know that you’re going to be getting a lot of questions like this from them in the future.”

  I nod, even though Vivian’s question cracked open my chest and yanked out my heart.

  “Ms. Turner?”

  “Yeah.” I sniff. “I’m fine. It’s okay.”

  “Look. You’re doing the right things now. You’re going to classes, putting in face time with the children. Everything is going to be fine. You’ll see.”

  “Thanks. But . . . I don’t need for you to blow smoke up my ass. The chances that a judge will give me my kids back are damn near zero. Muthafuckas don’t believe in giving people like me second chances. And look at them.” I gesture toward the kids playing. “They look a lot happier now than they ever did with me. They’re eating; they have on decent clothes—”

  “C’mon. Don’t put yourself down,” she urges, scooting closer to me and wrapping her arm around my shoulder. “I ain’t going to lie and say that this is going to be a walk in the park for you, but it can be done. And damn near zero ain’t zero. You can do this. I’ve seen others do it. Keep doing your best. The rest will take care of itself.”

  I can’t believe it, but I actually take comfort in her words. For a few brief seconds, I actually believe that I can pull this shit off.

  Before I know it, my two hours are up and Ms. Terry calls the kids to her minivan.

  “All right, now. I’m still going to see you in my office on Monday, right?”

  “Right.” I swipe my eyes dry and then turn my attention to my children. “Now, y’all give your momma a hug.” I stretch out my arms, and Vivian is the first to try to stretch her arms around my big belly. They don’t even get halfway around, but I do manage to lean over and press a kiss against her chubby cheeks. I have to step to Amin and brush a kiss against his forehead while he looks everywhere but at my face. Malcolm stands back with his arms folded and his eyes daring me to step to him.

  “What? You’re not going to say good-bye to me?”

  “Bye,” Malcolm says with a big attitude.

  “C’mon. Give me a hug and a kiss like your brother and sister.”

  “No. I don’t want to.”

  I lower my arms while my eyes burn again. “All right. If you don’t want to, then . . . I guess I understand.”

  Without sparing me another look, he marches right past me and climbs into the minivan.

  Ms. Terry closes the door and tosses me another sad look. “It’ll get better. Give him some more time.”

  “Sure.” I stand there while she walks around to the driver’s side and then climbs in behind the wheel. When she pulls away from the curb, I’m still standing there, waving. Amin and Vivian wave back while Malcolm ignores me.

  Once the van is out of view, I lower my hand and place it against my belly. “Please, please, say that you’ll never hate me.” I draw a deep breath and then turn toward my silver Terrain. Opening the car door, I plop into the driver’s seat, and my heart stops at reading the Post-it note on the steering wheel.

  Ticktock.

  41

  Lucifer

  All is well.

  Ever since Profit opened his eyes, Mason is back to being the leader our people love and respect. As a result, the Vice Lords have ramped up the war on the streets and are moving niggas off GD blocks that they had long held down on the south side. Thanks to Bishop tracking Python’s ass for the past three weeks, we know where this nigga does his business, who all his lieutenants are and where they live, and even some of Python’s resting places around town. Nigga got so many damn baby mommas, it makes my head spin.

  Tonight we’re going to take it to these niggas hard. Go at them with everything we got and rip the heart out of the GD’s stronghold by taking out Python and all his lieutenants on the same night. Mason wants to play with his food for as long as he can by choking off their life blood: the money and their connect. Once that’s done, he wants to watch these niggas eat their own.

  We still got a couple of hours before the sun goes down and Cousin Skeet rolls through with some new firepower.

  Right now, I’m chilling my ass in the tub trying to relax and get my mind right. Now that everything is everything, and we’re going to settle all this beef tonight, I keep asking myself, what’s next?

  How long am I going to be Mason’s ride-or-die chick? Is being his right-hand bitch enough for me, or is it time for me to seriously get back down to earth and find something else to do while I’m still able to draw breath and ain’t serving no bid nowhere?

  Yet, at the same time, I don’t want to leave his ass. I can’t leave his ass.

  Shaking my head, I lean all the way back in the tub and watch as the few remaining bubbles in the water circle around my full titties. Should I stay or should I go? My thoughts circle around that question until there’s a loud bang on my bathroom door.

  “Damn, girl. How long are you going to be in there?” Mason barks.

  What the fuck is his ass doing over here? “What the hell do you want?”

  “I told you that I wanted to go over this shit one more time before our people roll out tonight. I don’t want shit to go wrong.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I say, and don’t even bother to get up.

  This muthafucka must have had his ear up to the door because he barges his ass right on in.

  “What the fuck?”

  Mason looks down at me in the tub, and his eyes instantly land on my bubble-capped titties. “Fuck. Nice rack.”

  I’m not a shy bitch at all, but my neck and face grow warm beneath his intense stare. “Why don’t you take a muthafuckin’ picture? It’ll last
longer.”

  Grinning, Mason scoops out his cell phone and does exactly that.

  “Nigga, is you crazy?” I push myself up and stand. Water and bubbles cascade down my curves. “Hand me my towel,” I tell him.

  Mason doesn’t move.

  My annoyance chills a bit at noticing his reaction to my naked body. After a few seconds, I settle my hand on my hips and strike a pose. “Are you through?”

  A smile curves up the side of Mason’s face. “Damn, girl. Just . . . damn.”

  I step out of the tub and walk over to him. When I’m inches away, I reach and brush my left wet titty against his arm and grab my towel. “Thanks for nothing.”

  “No. Thank you.” His mismatched eyes roam over me while his face softens.

  The thing is, I’m willing to let whatever is flowing between us happen, because despite having the towel in hand, I don’t attempt to dry off or cover up. After another couple of seconds pass, Mason reaches up and removes my elastic twisty and lets my hair fall down around my shoulders.

  Still neither of us says anything while he combs his thick, meaty fingers through my hair. One thing’s for sure—the air in my chest gets thinner and the butterflies in my stomach flutter around like they’re on crack.

  When his gaze finishes mapping out every inch of my body, our eyes lock.

  “You’re fuckin’ beautiful. Do you know that?”

  I reach up and touch the side of his face, brushing my fingers against the small scar beneath his milky eye, and say with all honesty, “So are you.”

  Together, we lean forward until our mouths connect. Instantly this warm feeling seeps into my soul, and it heats up into a fire and then sweeps through my body. My towel falls to the floor while I wrap my hands around his thick neck. I press my wet body against his hard frame, and before I know it, there’s more than water making me wet. He gets no protests from me when two of his fingers slide down both sides of my throbbing clit. In fact, all I can do is quiver. No shit. I’ve been starving for his touch for so long that the second his slippery fingers brush over the top of my clit, I come unglued.

  “Ooooh, Mason,” I moan, dragging my lips from his and then tilting my head all the way back.

  With my neck exposed, Mason peppers kisses all up and down the column. I’ve never pegged myself as the romantic type, but I swear my head is blown while his hands and mouth cast a spell on me.

  “God,” Mason whispers as his mouth drifts toward my left earlobe. “Why didn’t we do this shit a long time ago?”

  “You tell me,” I answer, tugging on his baggy jeans and working them off his hips.

  He sucks in a ragged breath while his mouth dives down and captures one of my rock-hard nipples in his mouth. Mason doesn’t just suck on them; he does this nice, gentle biting and chewing that drives my ass wild. By the time my hand wraps around his thick cock, I’m convinced that I know what it’s like to be a crack addict. I need this man inside of me now in the worst way, and I don’t think I’m above selling my soul to make it happen.

  Mason turns me so that I’m backed up against my bathroom sink. In the next second, he spreads my legs open and kneels down before me. Before I can take advantage of the fresh oxygen, Mason’s thick tongue slaps against my clit.

  “Fuck.” My hands grip the sink while I reflexively prop my legs up around Mason’s head. Now, I’ve had my share of head jobs, but the tornado action this nigga touches down on my shit has me feeling like Dorothy spinning her ass all the way to the land of Oz.

  “Shit. Shit.” I need him to slow down so I can catch my breath, but I can’t get myself to pull my hands away from the sink for fear that my ass will fall down and embarrass myself. Yet, at the same time, if I don’t do something about his unmerciful tongue slapping my clit around, I’m really going to embarrass myself by screaming like a banshee.

  “Awwwwwwwww.” I take a chance and rip my hands away from the sink to lock them around his head so I can try to push him back , but that sexy head of his refuses to budge, and I’m hit with one orgasm after another. “Awwww.”

  By the time Mason ends his assault on my pussy, I’m as limp as a wet noodle and his mouth is glossy like he’s finished a whole bucket of fried chicken on his own.

  “How you like yo boy now, baby?” Mason stands up, cock in hand while I try to catch my breath. “Hmmmm? You ain’t had no shit like that before, have you?”

  “You a’ight,” I pant with a crooked smile. I ain’t about to let this nigga’s head get any bigger than it is right now. He can forget that shit.

  “A’ight?” He laughs and then locks an arm around my waist. He lifts me up and then slowly slides me down on his cock like we’ve been doing this shit for years. His shit is so fat that it literally takes my breath away. After watching my mouth drop open and my eyes damn near roll out the back of my head, Mason is back to feeling cocky. “How you like me now, Willow? Hmm? Still think that I’m just a’ight?”

  For the first time, I love the way he says my name. I don’t feel like the bad chick who needs to be in control or dominated. I feel like . . . a fucking girl. But I do have something up my sleeve for his ass. After a few wonderful strokes, I take full command of my vaginal muscles and lock my shit up.

  Mason gasps. His mouth drops into a perfect circle while he squeezes his eyes tight. “FUUUUUCK.”

  “How you like me now?” I use his shoulders for an anchor and then bounce my ass up and down and even throw in a few circles as well. This muthafucka’s knees buckle, and he nearly drops my ass. “What’s wrong, nigga? Pussy got your tongue?”

  “Damn, Willow. Damn.”

  We tumble to the floor, but that shit doesn’t stop our flow.

  With my knees planted on both sides of his hips, I lean forward and smother his face with my titties while simultaneously churning his precum into a thick, creamy concoction. My ride on top doesn’t last long.

  Soon I’m facedown against the linoleum, and Mason is stuffing me from behind. He hammers his hips with the same velocity as he can twirl his tongue. I had no idea that his dick game was this fucking tight. If I had, I might’ve raped his ass a long time ago. By the time my nut explodes and tries to drown his one eyed-monster, I know for sure that my ass is good and sprung.

  I say something about taking this shit to the bed, and the next thing I know, my legs are wrapped around this nigga’s waist while he crawls on all fours into the adjoining bedroom.

  In bed, our shit gets slow and tender. It’s as if we just needed to get those first couple of nuts out of the way. The softer touches and kisses take our minds to a deeper level. We explore each other’s bodies like we have all the time in the world. I learn that he doesn’t like his nipples sucked, and he learns that there’s not a damn thing I don’t like. But I do love kissing him on his neck, right against his adorable horseshoe-shaped birthmark. I can tell he loves it, too, by the way his moans deepen. We eventually pass out—but not for long.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  My bedroom door vibrates.

  “Lucifer,” Bishop shouts through the door. “Have you seen Mason?”

  Mason and I pop up and then glance at each other.

  Bang! Bang! Bang!

  “Boy, if you don’t stop pounding on my door!”

  “Well, have you seen him?”

  I stare at Mason for a hint as to what he’d like me to say, but his face is as blank as mine. When I open my mouth, Mason cuts me off. “I’m in here, man.”

  That apparently gives Bishop permission to waltz into my room, but he gets more than an eyeful when he sees me and Mason, naked and tangled up in my funky sheet.

  “What you need, my nigga?” Mason asks, pulling me an extra inch closer.

  Bishop stands there openmouthed for a few seconds. A smile curls up at the corners of his mouth. “It’s about fuckin’ time.” He rolls his eyes and starts backing out of the room. “Y’all two hurry the fuck up. Cousin Skeet is on his way over.”

  Mason and I relax against each othe
r as we bob our heads.

  “A’ight. We’ll be out in a few,” Mason says.

  “Mason and Willow kissing in a tree,” Bishop sings. “K-I-S-S—”

  “Nigga, get out of here!” I throw a pillow and smack him dead in the mouth.

  Bishop laughs and then slams the door.

  Mason and I look at each other again and grin.

  “I guess he approves,” Mason says. “This evening is full of surprises.”

  I laugh but make no move to climb out of the bed.

  He doesn’t either. “We finally fuckin’ did it.”

  “Yeah, we did.”

  Mason bobs his head some more and then clears his throat. “And how does it feel?”

  “You still fishing for a compliment?”

  “No . . . well, yeah, but that shit can come later. What I want to know is how you feel about this shit?”

  “Oh. We’re about to have ‘the talk’?” I laugh to try to hide my nervousness.

  “Yeah,” he confirms. “I want to know how you feel about this shit. Am I just something to do, or are we going to try and make something happen here?”

  “I don’t know . . . I mean—”

  “What? You ain’t got feelings for a nigga?”

  “Of course I do. But . . .”

  “But?”

  “But you did just get out of a . . . situation. And I ain’t interested in being a rebound bitch. You feel me?”

  “I feel you,” he says, leaning forward. “But this shit didn’t just crop up overnight. I’ve had feelings for you for a long damn time.”

  My eyes narrow suspiciously. “You have?”

  “Yeah,” he answers without hesitation.

  “Uh-huh. Whatever happened to ‘one bitch is just as good as the next’?”

  Mason shakes his head. “C’mon. I was just blowing off steam that night.”

  I’m going to let him have that. “So why didn’t we—”

  Bang! Bang! Bang!