Girls From Da Hood 5

by Keisha Ervin

  “Thirty-nine dollars, probably ain’t shit. Sixty-nine dollars, getting better, oh! That shit pretty as can be,” she said, picking up a multicolored comforter that could be flipped over to a cream. “One hundred thirty-nine dollars and all they give you is two pillow covers and a sham. This will work,” she said, throwing it in the basket.

  “Damn, did you see that?”

  “She bad as shit, damn.”

  Niecy heard the two men, then she saw them walk by three times just to admire, but didn’t have the courage to say anything. Niecy was making her way to the register when she walked past the infant section. She felt a pain in her heart; she had ignored the fact that she was carrying a baby. She was still living life, doing what she wanted, except fucking on a regular basis. Before, she changed niggas like she changed drawers and she did that twice a day, but since her pregnancy, it had been twice a month. Until Show had shown up unannounced talking about “let’s party,” he hadn’t seen her in over a year, but that’s how they got down. When they saw each other, they fucked, it had been like that for more than five years and hadn’t changed. And Twon was that young boy out the way who called every blue moon to see if he could come by. That had been going on for about two years and through her pregnancy. Before, he had to catch her, but these days she was wanting and waiting on that call.

  “I need to snap out of this shit and get what the hell I came in here for,” she said out loud.

  “How much longer you got?” a voice said.

  She said nothing, then turned to see who was talking.

  “How far along are you?” the pleasant man said.

  “Eight months,” she said real short.

  “You don’t even look that. Like my mom and aunties say, you carrying yo’ baby in yo’ butt,” he smiled, pointing. “Must be a girl or something like that.”

  “That last comment you could have kept to yourself,” she said sarcastically.

  “Have you ever heard that before?”

  “Yeah,” she said, bored.

  “Why you acting like that? Like I’m foul, but to be for real, I saw you and thought you were . . . my bad, reminded me of . . .” He shook his head with a confused look. “But you take it easy and tell your girls that ain’t seeded up right now to come out to Club Shadows. I got it on Thursdays and it’s off the chain,” he said, handing her a flyer.

  “Why you let me run you off? Like you scared,” she said seductively, ready to pull her prey in and attack.

  He leaned toward her, close to the side of her face, so only she could hear. “I’m mad cool, but my attitude subject to change real fast. And you will get the hell slapped out ’cha, before I even think. You’ll make a nigga go to jail for destroying a pregnant woman.”

  She stared into his bright eyes, long eyelashes, and dark skin. He wasn’t that fine, but the six foot two frame, short cut, large build, and his straight forwardness made her feel that he was in power. She wasn’t able to respond before he stared in her face with a puzzled look, shook his head, and walked away. At this point, she was confused. This nigga could smother her with a hug and it did something to her, but she swore she wouldn’t add anyone else to her team until after she had her baby. Niecy got her items and headed out the door, and as the man punched her ticket and examined her bags, she saw the guy outside. When she walked to her car, she heard somebody say ‘Naquel.’ She tried to block it out, but she heard it again. She kept going, and when she reached her car, the gentleman was standing there. He looked into her eyes and with a sad and scared expression, he parted his lips and softly said, “Is your name Naquel?” She stared at him.

  “I’m sorry, but you got me really fucked up right now. You look like this girl.”

  “What was her name?” she asked in a dazed state.

  “Naquel.”

  “My name Naquala. I had a twin named Naquel,” she said, trying not to get emotional, but that’s what came whenever she mentioned her sister.

  “Oh my God, I don’t believe this,” Poppa said. “It’s been a long time, but never would I forget Naquel. Y’all were from Ingleside, right?”

  “Yeah,” she answered, wondering how much he knew about Naquel and her life.

  “Let’s go get something to eat and talk. I don’t do too much driving, my els ain’t right, so I’m with you.”

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Poppa,” he answered.

  “Tell me some more before you go jumping in my car.”

  “I know your whole family from Ingleside: your brothers who’s locked, your brother who think he a girl, your sister . . . She held me down, her letters of encouragement, before I knew what it was.” He held his head down. “I never thought I would meet anybody to replace her, and I never did. But I met a young lady, we fell in love, had three boys, then she died giving birth to Taye, my youngest boy, three years ago.”

  “How old are you?” she asked.

  “Thirty, and you are twenty-six, and both your birthday is September twenty-ninth and you have a younger sister, Janelle, and her birthday is September thirteenth. My memory is still good. Now can we roll?” he said, opening her car door.

  “Flyin’ Fishbone, I always wanted to try that.”

  “I’m with it. I’m rolling with you,” Poppa answered. They rolled down the Boulevard in deep conversation and Niecy began to let her guard down a little. Talking to Poppa was like talking to a long-time friend, someone who really understood where she came from. After dinner she drove him back to his truck, he gave her his number, and told her to call him anytime, he was always available and didn’t want to lose touch. After spending hours talking to Poppa, she felt alone again driving down the Boulevard heading home. As she turned into New Pointe, something hit her and she began to cry. She didn’t know why but she couldn’t stop. She parked the car and leaned back in the seat. “Maybe I shouldn’t but Goddamn!” she yelled, pulling a small package from her purse. Dipping her fingernail inside the pack, she pulled a little out and brought it to her left nostril, then she hit the right and leaned back. She reached for her phone, and scrolled down to Poppa’s number, and pressed send.

  “Who this?” he answered.

  “Naquala,” she answered. It was what he’d been calling her all night and she kinda liked him calling her by her real name. He seemed different and laid back. He looked good, too, and the cologne he wore was still in her nose.

  “So you want me over there with you?”

  “Yes,” she said, knowing she should have said no.

  “All right, and relax yourself, I want you to know coming in the door, I don’t want to fuck. I ain’t pressed. That ain’t what I need in my life, nor do I want that. I need you as my friend.”

  “Love you already, hurry up,” she said, smiling. “816 Crows Nest Court, downstairs on the right. See ya! And hurry up.”

  Twenty mintues later she heard the knock at the door. She grabbed the pass and gave it to Poppa before he came in.

  “They tow quick out here,” he said, coming back in.

  “Long as you know,” she answered him, locking the door.

  “Hold up, that’s the kitchen and those are the bedrooms, mine over there, company over there. Get what you want ’cause I waits on no one,” she said, sitting down and hitting the remote. Poppa sat down, kicked off his Tims, and relaxed. They talked until the wee hours and he fell asleep on her couch, with her on the love seat.

  Janelle woke to the special tone of her phone. It was set to the date to remind her that Choice was getting out. They had talked like lovers for the last two weeks. Before, it had been all street shit, but they were back to the “I can’t wait . . .” He showed no emotion except when they talked of their lives coming together. All the other things like niggas getting him, and Dundee threatening Janelle, and putting his hands on her never made him flip. He seemed to have found peace, as if he found a stronger force to help him deal with all negative things.

  Janelle stood in front of the jail waiting for Ch
oice. She wondered what was taking so long as she pranced around anxiously in her black PZI jeans and top, with her fresh new white, black, and gray Jordans. Her shirt hugged her breasts, but stopped at her waist barely; you still could catch a glimpse of her stomach, but her jeans showed her every curve, which made the solid 140 pounds look inviting. The athletic look and cute face was what kept niggas coming at her, and she looked so cute in her clothes.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying, ma! Looking like money,” Choice said, walking toward Janelle. She blushed, ran over to her man, and jumped in his arms. He had put on fifteen to twenty pounds, and she was feeling him. She squeezed like she was never going to let go.

  “Let’s be out, get the fuck outta here,” he said.

  “Believe that shit,” she said, walking back to her truck and smiling.

  “Did you stop when I said stop or did you off the rest of that shit?”

  “I off it. Twin and them called, my girl cross the water, everything gone, yo’ money stacked. Fats and yo’ other peoples, told them you was on hold.”

  “You should have said we stop like I told you. That’s why you be getting in shit,” he screamed on her. “The smallest thing can get us fucked up, you and me. Gotta listen to me, for real, ma.”

  “So, you don’t appreciate what the fuck I did?” she asked with attitude.

  “No, ma, I didn’t say that. Whether I came home to money or my shit, I would have been all right. Coming home to you make me happy. So stop being fuckin’ smart and listen,” he said with attitude. “I don’t need us both fucked up.”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m good. You weren’t worried when you were on the come up. You weren’t worried when you had me and Reece running to Brooklyn bringing your shit back. That’s when your ass should have been worried. Huh! Who was your down-ass bitch when you just had to make that sale to Dre and Dex? And your life, nigga, your life was in those niggas hands; who saved ya? Who dropped those bodies? Two to the head, just like you showed me,” she said, looking at him. He opened the door and waited for the garage to open. He was tired of hearing her mouth. Things weren’t like this when he left and this wasn’t no shit he was coming home to. She got out and closed the garage.

  “Nigga, I got my shit covered,” she said, opening the door to their four-bedroom condo in Witchduck Lakes.

  “What the fuck did you fuck up in the last few months? Shoot-outs and nobody dead, trouble, ready to shoot Jeezy, trouble, and over your trifling-ass sister?” he said. She came charging at him and he grabbed her arms. “Fuck is wrong with you?”

  “Don’t say shit about my sister. Don’t you ever call her that again,” she said, gritting her teeth.

  “After what you did, letting your niggas get her fucked and doing God-knows-what.

  “I ain’t do shit, get it right. She’s a grown-ass woman with her own mind and capable of making her own decisions,” he said.

  “If she fucked up, motherfucker, you let it happen, you knew what those niggas was about.”

  “Blaming people for yo’ shit and y’all fucked-up ways, straight hood bitches,” he said, snatching off his shirt and kicking off his boots. When he unbuckled his belt to take off his pants, she rushed him as his pants hit his ankles. They fell over and her punches started coming. He grabbed her and pinned her down on her stomach, and as she struggled to get up, her ass grinded against his dick and he instantly got hard. He turned her over and slapped her. “Calm your ass down, before I break your damn jaw,” he said, opening her jeans and snatching them off along with her panties. He looked down at her neatly shaven womanhood, and leaned forward, spreading her legs, guiding himself into her. She was snug; he was forceful and didn’t give a fuck. She grunted as he pushed deeper into her. He held it in and grinded a minute on her clit, enjoying the feeling of his woman. He allowed her juices to flow as he began to move in and out, and in minutes they could hear the squishing sounds of him going in and out. She dug her nails into his back as he began to pound in and out of her. She felt his body tense and he grunted as he let out a long-waiting nut. He got up and kicked off his pants, then picked Janelle up off the floor and took her to their first floor master bedroom.

  He laid her on the bed, and before she knew it he was inside of her again, banging hard for minutes until he exploded and collapsed. He rolled over and put his arms around her as she snuggled her ass up against him. He kissed her cheeks as he squeezed her.

  “I’m gonna end up killing you, man,” she said.

  “As long as I die first, because I can’t live without my better half. If something was to happen to you, whoa!” he said, and squeezed her.

  “I feel you, baby. I feel you,” she said, turning toward him and kissing his lips.

  “So what’s up for today?” she asked.

  “This right here. We gonna chill out like this, and in a little bit, get up and order some Chinese rice and chicken wings, then regroup, then fuck the night away.”

  “That’s what it is,” she said, agreeing.

  “Tomorrow, New York. Brooklyn, baby,” he said, closing his eyes.

  “For how long?” she asked, not surprised.

  “Until I call you and let you know that you and Reece need to get on that Chinese bus.”

  “When we start that again?”

  “We just did. Couple times, then I got my peoples, but we got running around to do when you come up, you’ll be up there for a couple days before you come back. Relax, don’t I always make shit fall in place? Even in my absence, I take care of you, true?” he said.

  “True,” she said, cuddled under him, and closed her eyes.

  Poppa sat watching one of his favorite shows, Law and Order: Criminal Intent. It was toward the end when Niecy started talking. “Hold up, give me a sec,” Poppa said, holding up his finger. Niecy stared at her new friend patiently. She was due any day now and she was hot as hell. Poppa had spent some part of his day with her almost every day since they’d met more than two months ago. She thought he was gonna fall prey to her phat ass and large breasts, but he never made that attempt. He had issues he was dealing with. He had lost his kid’s mother to childbirth, then had fought against the grandparents in a two-year custody battle because they said he was a ruthless and dangerous person who sold drugs. After it was over, he was down $60,000 but he walked out a proud single parent and took his kids home. One year later he was doing a five-year bid. The kids went to live with the grandparents. They talked shit about him until the first of the month came and he had somebody drop off $1,500 to the grandparents. That $1,500 was there every month for sixty months. When he came home, he got his kids back. And he been trying to make up, but he still wasn’t over the death of his babies’ momma.

  “God damn! That shit was good,” he said before turning the bottle of Remy Martin up to his head. “Damn, that’s good, too!” he said, setting down the bottle and laughing.

  This pussy good, too, nigga if you want some, Niecy thought, and began laughing at her inside joke.

  “Fuck did you want disturbing me and my show?”

  “I want some ice cream and something sweet,” she said, knowing his response.

  “Fuck that, you should have called me before I came over. I ain’t going nowhere,” he said, seriously turning his attention back to the TV.

  “What do you want from me? Why do you do what you do?” she asked, referring to the other room she’d turned into a baby room with Poppa’s help. Poppa had made her go the doctor, because she hadn’t been, and made her promise to stop fucking with drugs and alcohol, at least until she had the baby. He bought everything from the crib to the car seat. Janelle had come by and wondered who he was, and was happy her sister had found somebody who cared and wasn’t just trying to fuck her.

  “I feel like I been knowing you forever. I come over and you don’t expect shit of me. You don’t worry me, I just feel relaxed. I don’t want it to change.”

  “But you treat me like your cousin or something.”

 
“Because we close like that. And I also feel that me and Naquel had something. Something I really enjoyed. I could express myself and tell her anything. She would do the same and our bond became strong like family.”

  “That was then, when you were younger and had young ideas and a young mind, but now you a grown-ass man, with new grown-up things on your mind. So the talks are different and feelings, too.”

  “You right, but we still wear scars of yesterday. You feel me? Sometimes those scars are hard to rebound from, it make you who you are,” he said, turning the Remy up again, and staring straight ahead at the the TV, but not seeing it.

  “I realize you got many scars and you’ve shared quite a few with me, but what haven’t you shared? You still into girls, right? Ain’t nothing got you that fucked up, do it? Or is it because I’m pregnant? You looking at me like I’m a fucked-up person,” she said, holding her head down.

  “First of all, I still love y’all bitches. Things can’t get that bad. Second, pregnant pussy is the best pussy, but I try not to look at you that way. I’m gonna be straight. My life was hell when I lived out Ingleside. I mean fucked up. I stayed to myself and was a quiet nigga, keeping my tears inside. One day I saw your sister. I had always known her to be quiet and only fuck with you and your brother, the gay boy. I’m coming home from the store and she walk past me, crying. I keep walking, then something hit me. I turned around and ran up on her.

  “I asked her was there anything I can do. She said ‘kill my moms.’ That blew my mind, because I wished the same thing. We walked back to the store, and I brought her a soda and a honeybun.” He paused, smiling.