by Tonya Blount
out. ―Yeah, it‘s me.‖ ―Where the fuck you been?‖ Aunt Hope full lips was twisted to the side indicating she had recently gotten high. ―I done sent the army out there looking for you!‖
I handed her the brown bag and sat silently on the sofa. ―You hear me? I ain‘t gonna ask you again either?‖ ―I went to my friend‘s house and then I ran into Smoke.‖ ―You ain‘t been with Smoke no damn four hours I know.‖ ―I told youI was at my friend house. I went there first.‖ ―Oh, really. Who died and left you in charge?‖
―Ain‘t nobody.‖
―You damn right. I done told your ass over and over
again, you ain‘t grown.‖ Aunt Hope began stumping her feet. ―This here is my palace. And I‘m the queen of this bitch. You don‘t run this show. I runs this show. You do what I tell you to do. And I told you to bring your ass straight home from school.
―I take a whole lot of shit from your triflin‘ spoiled ass. But what I‘m not gonna take is your ass fucking with my money. ‗Cause I got bills to pay ‗round here and I gotta put food on the table. And you fucking with my money, Storm. And nobody and I mean noooooobodeeee…fucks with Hope Davis‘ money. You got that?‖
―What you mean I‘m messing with your money?‖ ―You know exactly what I mean! Don‘t you play dumb with me!‖
―Why do I have to keep doing that? I don‘t wanna do it anymore.‖ ―Can you take care of yourself?‖
―No…not yet. But—‖
―But shit! Until your ass is grown and can take care of
yourself you ain‘t got no say so in this. You ain‘t gotta pot to piss in, nor a window to throw it outta…but you think you can sit here and tell mewhat you don‘t want to do and what you want to do. I ain‘t working and until I could find some decent work you gonna have to keep fucking. I‘m doing it…what makes you think you too good to do it?‖
Doing it with who? Who the hell wants your crack head ass? I thought. ―I ain‘t say I was too good. I mean…I‘m only fourteen years old.‖
―I don‘t give a gotdamn!‖ Aunt Hope walked toward the kitchen. ―And I‘m done talkin‘ about it. You betta go on and get yourself ready…‘cause Rells been calling here and I ain‘t got shit to give him…but you.‖
―How he calling here? We ain‘t got no phone no more. Did you forget that?‖ ―I meant to say, he been byhere. And don‘t you try and be smart. You betta take your smart ass in that bathroom and get that funky pussy ready. That‘s what.‖
―I got my period.‖
―Well, if you know like I do…you betta get ready and suck on his dick like you do those cherry blow pops. Now go on and get out of my face! I‘m done talking ‗bout this shit.‖
Recently, I had watched this talk show – I think it was Sally Jesse Raphael. There was a man on there being interviewed and I never forgot what he said, ―50-50 is a -50 is a 10 is employment.‖ Instantly I thought to myself, what was 100 – 0? I stood up, walked over to Aunt Hope ready to offer my proposition. ―Okay, I‘ll do it. But you gotta give me $10 every time I fuck for your habit.‖
―Pay you?‖ Aunt Hope asked and then fell over laughing. ―Pay YOU? Bitch, you betta be glad you got somewhere to lay your gotdamn head every night.‖ My confrontation had obviously made her nervous. She paused for a second to light her cigarette. ―You musta fell and hit your head tentimes! Asking me for some damn money.‖ Aunt Hope continued and dramatically began moving her head from side-to-side. She reminded me of someone my age. Then she stood up, looked down on me with her vengeful eyes and concluded, ―Don‘t you ever ever in your pathetic ass life ask me again ‗bout some damn money! You here me?‖
Fed up with her trifling ways, I pointed to my treasure and angrily retorted, ―Bitch, this pussy ain‘t free and this body ain‘t gonna be a slave for you or your sorry ass nigga no more!‖ Leaving her stone still from my response, I walked away, went into my room and put my diary; Exclamation perfume; make up bag; crochet needle and some panties in a Key Food plastic bag -- and left. I didn‘t know where I was heading to but I knew I had to
get out of that hell. No, that couldn‘t be hell, because even hell had to be better than there.
* * * When I walked out the building Miss LT was standing in front of the door. She was practically hyperventilating, yelling and swinging aimlessly at the air. When Miss LT spotted me she quickly stopped. Gasping for her breath, she walked up to me. ―Storm, sugar, I‘m so glad to see you.‖
―What you doing here Miss LT? I told you to go on back to the bus stop.‖ ―I know…I know, Storm,‖ Looney Tootie stammered. ―Buta ra‘ but…but I heard from God see. And…and I had to come and tell you.‖
I was angry with the world at that moment. The last thing I needed to hear was Looney Tootie preaching to me. ―Miss LT, I don‘t mean no harm, but I really don‘t feel like hearing that dumb shit right now. I ain‘t tryin‘ to take away what you believe and everything. But I‘m telling you your God don‘t live there. He can‘t be.‖
―Oooo, chile‘! Who you think you talking to...using that kinda language? You besta go on and wash your mouth out with some soap. And my God is your God and He is everywhere.‖
―I‘m sorry, Miss LT. I ain‘t mean to disrespect you. I just got into a fight with Aunt Hope.‖
―I know. I told you I heard from God.‖
―I gotta go Miss LT. I can‘t be standing in front of this door ‗cause Aunt Hope might come downstairs. And I‘m telling you the way I feel right now…I‘ma hurt her if she come with some stupid shit.‖
Looney Tootie ignored my foul language this time. ―Storm, you gonna be alright.‖
―I know.‖
―Look chile‘.‖ Looney Tootie looked up and pointed to my window. There were two birds circling around the window. Suddenly, one of the birds stopped circling and began pecking at the glass. I looked at Miss LT– waiting for an explanation. However, she said nothing. Instead, she wore a face I had never seen before. It wasn‘t fear though. I can‘t say what it was, but her reaction scared me.
―What‘s going on? What you want me to look at?‖ ―You see them birds?‖
―Yes, I see ‗em.‖
―You see them birds?‖ Looney Tootie repeated. ―They trying to get in. That‘s what they trying to do.‖ ―What you talking about? Birds don‘t wanna go inside nobody house, Miss LT. Birds like to be free. They can‘t be free to fly if they in a house.‖
― Oh, sugar but they do wanna go in. They gotta go in. See when the birds go inside of a house, they ‗bout to let the death angel in.‖
―What?‖
Looney Tootie bent down and whispered. ―Death is coming, Storm.‖ ―Miss LT, why you trying to scare me like that?‖ ―Death is on the way.‖
―MISS LT!‖ I screamed. ―Stop that!‖
―I can‘t stop it, Storm.‖
―Yes, you can. Stop talking like that.‖
―Storm, now you know ol‘ Tootie don‘t lie. I ain‘ t never lied to you. And I ain‘t ‗bout to start lying to you either. Don‘t be scared, sugar. I promised you the day was gonna come. Didn‘t I? And when it does, they both goin‘ straight to hell with gasoline draws on.‖
* * * The next morning, Smoke jumped out of the living room window and killed himself. The word on the street was he got a hold of some bad drugs. Before he jumped, he yelled out to Aunt Hope – ―Look at me, I‘m Superman!‖
My only regret…I wish I had been there to see him fly.
Part II
Things done changed…
Chapter 4
I knew that in order to survive, I had to continue to sell what drove old men crazy and kept them coming back for more. I had mastered wrapping my walls around their penises like no other woman before me and I enjoyed every minute of it. Not the sex– the power and control. Making grown men -20, 30, sometimes 40 years older than me, cry like a newborn baby was an adrenaline rush of infinite power.
I still had no place to call home. Therefore, I slept wherever I grew tired. Sometimes it would be an abandoned bu
ilding, sometimes I would get one of my Johns to pay for a night at the motel, or sometimes I would sleep at Nee Nee‘s house. When I was really desperate, I slept wherever Miss LT did.
TONYA BLOUNT Everything I owned, I carried in my blue Jansport back pack. I stopped going to school and I taught myself better than any teacher could have.
I never complained, because all in all living on the streets was still better than with Aunt Hope. Besides, there was a part of me that enjoyed the adventure and the spontaneity of my lifestyle.
Aunt Hope contacted me one time after I left. She had put the word on the street that she had heard from my mother. That was the only way I would go looking for her. Aunt Hope was only able to tell me that Momma was doing fed time for being a mule, and that she was locked up somewhere in West Virginia.
For the fir st time since my mother had left me, I didn‘t feel the urgency or the desire to go searching for her. I felt some relief that she was still alive. However, somewhere along my travels, I had grown to despise her. I finally accepted what Aunt Hope and Smoke unfortunately wouldn‘t let me forget – she had abandoned her responsibility to me and because of that, I had already done hard core street time. Fed time was easy street. She’s doing better than me. I reasoned.
By the time I was seventeen, I was ready to find another way to survive. I got bored with the danger, trite of the strange dicks and fed up with the sorry stories that came along with the empty sex. I did everything to my Johns that their wives or women wouldn‘t, I fucked, sucked and unwillingly became an unqualified therapist.
Finally, I walked away from that hustle and went from hoeing myself for $50 a night to making $5,000 a day boosting. I graduated at the top of my class and without looking back, rose to the top -- catering to the big ballers, pimps and drug dealers. I
CHA-CHING stole and sold everything from televisions and diamonds to fur coats. While shopping in Saks one day, I met Pam -- my right hand chick who introduced me to my first connect in the credit card game. After that, it was a wrap.
Chapter 5
November 2003 I had lived in practically every borough in New York City, and in every imaginable place. Now, home was a spacious three bedroom, two bath penthouse on the 22nd floor at one of the most prestigious addresses in Manhattan: 100 East 86th Street. Eve, Star Jones, Ruby Dee and Ossie Davis were my neighbors. Things had changed.
I had fallen asleep on the living room sofa. The last thing I remembered, I was watching Conan O‘Brien. Madison, the six month old Pit Bull that I had brought as a gift for myself was spread out on the off white carpet right next to me.
―Good morning, Madison,‖ I said in a hoarse and dry voice. ―Good morning,‖ I repeated. Madison popped her head up and playfully rubbed it on my legs. ―How‘s Mommy‘s girl today? Huh?‖
After I played with Madison, I got up and walked toward the floor to ceiling windows which revealed a breathtaking view of Central Park. I would often find myself looking out of that window for hours. The view always calmed my spirit whenever I got caught up in the drama that the streets would often pull me into.
Living so high up made me feel invincible—like I was protected and shielded from the rest of the world. I don’t feel like going anywhere today. I thought as I walked toward my bedroom. When I entered my room, my eyes had instantly landed on my off-white chaise. The sight immediately annoyed me -- it was overflowing with clothes that needed to be dry cleaned. I made a mental note to call Rosa, my housekeeper. She had asked for three days off. One day had passed and already things were totally out of order. I hated it, but not enough to trust anyone else to clean my home. Rosa would just have to cut short her time off.
My bedroom was my sanctity. It was lavishly decorated in warm earth tones. Candles in every size and scent were scattered around the room. The bed was a custom made king size four-poster bed imported from Italy. My favorite pastime was lying next to the gas fireplace listening to music.
* * * It was 11:38. The morning was just about gone and I needed to meet with Pam and Black. I hit the speaker button and began dialing Pam.
The call went straight into voicemail. ―Unh Unh Unh…my minutes. Yo, if you see yourself calling me over and over…and I‘m not picking up, that‘s because you‘re not worth my minutes. Take it personal!‖
―Pam, it‘s me...Storm. I called your ass twice last night and you never called me back. You don‘t want me to take it personal, I know. Call me back.‖
Then I decided to call Black. He was one of my main connects. He supplied me with names, social security numbers, date of births, addresses– the whole nine yards. I never understood why or for that matter how Black got into the game. Black had a Masters in computer technology. He was smart and could passionately engage in topics ranging from politics, to science, and sports. The rumor was he had extorted money from a top Fortune 500 firm and did a heavy bid for it. When he was released from jail, he amped up his game and took his computer knowledge and prison education to the streets.
―Hey, Storm.‖ ―Hey, Black. What‘s going on?‖
―Ain‘t shit. What‘s good with you?‖
―Just trying to hook up and see what‘s
up.‖ ―A‘ight. What time you trying to
do that?‖ ―Is one good for you?‖
―Yeah. That‘s cool…that‘s cool. Where
at?‖ ―Junior‘s?‖
―A‘ight. I‘ll holla at you then.‖
―One.‖
As soon as I put the telephone back on the receiver it rang. I looked at the Caller ID – it was Pam. I picked it up on the first ring.
―Where the fuck you been at?‖ I asked.
―Girl, you don‘t evenwanna know,‖ Pam
said. ―What happened?‖
―You know that tall black nigga I met last week at Taj‘s
spot?‖
―Yeah…Rocky?‖
―Rock,‖ Pam corrected.
―I don‘t know why you even bother with someone with that kinda name anyway. You were with him?‖ ―Yeah, girl,‖ Pam sighed heavily. ― I went over to his house last night and the nigga had me walk into his house backwards. Talking about he have to make sure I don‘t bring no bad spirits in his house and shit. I should have left then. But it was two o‘clock in the morning and I ain‘t feel like driving all the way back home…‘cause he live way out in Rosedale somewhere right next to Green Acres Mall.‖
―Pam! Go on and just tell me what happened…damn. I hate when you do that.‖
―Okay! Anyway, I ain‘t even gonna get into the freaky
shit he was trying to have me do. I‘ll tell you about that later.
But let me tell you…gurrrrl…since I left this nigga house I‘ve
been sick and I ain‘t have nothing but bad luck. He musta
reverse the shit on me!‖
―Don‘t tell me you ate his food.‖
―Nah. But don‘t you know…I‘m driving on Southern
State ready to get off on the Conduit and this car from outta
nowhere came and wrecked my shit up.‖
―Get the fuck outta here! Stop playing!‖
―I ain‘t playing. And that ain‘t all either. The cops
gave me a fucking ticket ‗cause they said I didn‘t yield. I ain‘t
never got no ticket before. And the bad part about it is
homeboy car didn‘t have a scratch on it. But he wrecked up
my shit. Now how that happen?‖
―What? The car is messed up
bad?‖ ―The shit is totaledStorm!‖
―Did you get hurt?‖
―No, I‘m okay. I‘ll probably be hurting tomorrow
though. I‘m just shaken up. That‘s all. I can‘t believe this shit.
I ain‘t have the car a good month.‖
―Don‘t sweat it though. That nigga ain‘t do nothing to you,‖ I said with a small chuckle, ―it‘s just a coincidence.‖ ―Storm, if I tell you the rest of the story…you ain‘t gonna say that. Belie
ve me.‖ ―Well, tell me later I need to start getting
dress.‖ ―All right. What time you trying to hook up?‖ ―One o‘clock at Junior‘s.‖
―Okay.‖
―So wait a minute…did they tow your
car?‖ ―Yeah. I‘ma go get me a rental
later on.‖ ―Where you at now?‖
―I‘m downtown…trying to find me something to
wear. I‘m going to see Mary perform tonight.‖ ―Oh, I forgot you were going to the Mary J. concert tonight. Pam, Is it cold out?‖
―Hell, yeah. It‘s freezing out this bitch.‖
―Okay, so you want me to have Rick pick you up?‖
―Nah, that‘s okay…I‘ll probably be still downtown shopping and I can just walk on over to Junior‘s. Anyway, how was Rick gonna pick me up? Taj is outta town?‖
―Yeah. He‘s in M.I.A. He‘ll probably be back later on tonight.‖ ―Alright, girl. Well, let me go. I‘ll see you at one o‘clock then.‖
―Okay, bye.‖
I stood in the center of my closet, scanning around hoping that eventually something would scream at me to wear. After pondering for several minutes, I finally decided on a black Dolce & Gabana shirt and slacks with my grey and black Prada sneakers. Then I went into the fur closet adjacent to the master closet and took my black waist length Chinchilla off of the hanger.
I stared at the mirror. I had to admit…I was one bad bitch. I was often mistaken for Stacey Dash—but the truth was I looked better than her. Admiring my physique, I turned to the side to get a better view of the six pack on my stomach. Although I was a perfect size five. I wasn‘t always satisfied with the flatness of my stomach. Four months ago, I hired a personal trainer, and the results were becoming more noticeable. The pain was finally paying off.
* * * I climbed inside of my 2003 black on black X5, selected the CD function and suddenly Alicia Keys was singing Fallin‘. Immediately I began to think of Taj. He had been gone only two days but I was missing him badly.
Taj and I met two years ago at Capital City, the club he owned, located downtown Brooklyn. Although past experiences had led me to resign myself to flying solo, it was a challenge that I couldn‘t win staying away from him.
