Trust No Bitch

by Nene Capri

  He knocked on the door and waited for someone to answer.

  The rap of his knuckles against the cheap wooden door brought no response. He knocked a second time, much louder than the first, but still no one came to the door.

  The years of incarceration had trained his ears to pick up the slightest sound or movement. Without pressing his ear to the door he could hear voices coming from inside and they weren’t the recorded sounds of a television set. These were live voices. Hood villains talking.

  So, bring y’alls asses to the door. He pounded on the door like he had some business up in those people’s spot and it could not wait.

  The door was snatched open and Kiam stood eye to eye with a tall, reedy dude whose melon head was way too big for his rail thin body and pencil neck. Slim’s lips looked to be permanently puckered and his jaw twitched. “Fool, why is you banging on my door like you’s the goddamn police?” he gritted.

  Kiam looked him in the eye, he had already sized ol’ boy up just that fast. “Calm the fuck down, nigga, before you get smashed on your own front porch.”

  “Say what?” Slim asked, adding bass to his voice

  “I said what you thought I said,” Kiam restated. “But I didn’t come here for that. I need to come up in here for five minutes and I’ll be out.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a band.

  The fiend’s eyes bulged at the sight of that fat $1,000 rubber banded knot in Kiam’s hand.

  “It’s either this,” said Kiam, indicating the stack. “Or this, nigga.” He lifted the bottom of his shirt to reveal the butt of his uncompromising negotiator.

  “Man, who are you? You not the police, are you?” asked dude. One eye was on the money and the other was on Kiam’s strap.

  “Never mind who I am, but I’m not the rollers. I don’t care what you have going on up in here. Five minutes is all I need and I’m out,” Kiam reiterated.

  “A’ight.” Pencil Neck licked his dry lips as he accepted the mula from Kiam and stepped to the side.

  As soon as he entered the house, the strong pungent smell of burning crack cocaine assaulted Kiam’s airway. He walked through the living room toward the back of the house. In the kitchen he encountered another man, and a frail, pock marked face woman, sitting at a cheap card table passing a crack pipe back and forth between them. The card table and the chairs that they occupied were the only pieces of furniture in sight.

  The two smokers were in their own world, they didn’t even look up and acknowledge his presence. Slim was on his heels.

  “Fall the fuck back,” commanded Kiam, stopping at the top of the stairs that led to the basement.

  “Five minutes,” Slim reminded him, then scurried off like the rat.

  The old rickety stairs squeaked as Kiam descended them. In the basement memories rushed up on him like a gust of hot air. This was where he and DeMarcus, as little boys, spent most of their time playing. This was also where Miss Charlene had been beaten to death, he had been told.

  Kiam ducked under several exposed pipes that hung from the ceiling as he passed by the hot water tank. He recalled the day that he and DeMarcus had tussled and he had rammed DeMarcus’s head into that same appliance. They were kids back then, now they were men. If DeMarcus had violated like Kiam suspected, he wasn’t gonna ram his head into anything, he was going to cut it off.

  He stood back up to his full height once he cleared the last overhead pipe and reached the storage room. It was dark and dank. Kiam left the door open to allow in a little light. He stepped over small puddles of water on the floor as he proceeded to the rear of the storage room where the answer to his question lied.

  Kiam ran his hands along the cold concrete wall, feeling for an indentation that was imperceptible to the eye and the touch unless you knew it was there. He had built this stash spot himself yet it took several attempts before he was successful in locating the groove that he was searching for in the wall.

  He pressed his weight on the spot and a door that had been camouflaged as a section of the wall opened with a squeak, revealing the hidden wall safe. Its own door was shut and locked.

  Kiam didn’t have to search his mind for the combination to open it; those numbers were indelibly etched in his memory like his birth date. Besides himself, Miss Charlene had been the only one that knew of this clever stash spot. But DeMarcus would have figured that Kiam had left a bank with her. And he was the type of thirsty dude that would brutally murder his own grandmother for a come-up. Well, Kiam was the type that brutally murdered, period.

  Squinting his eyes in the dimness of the light that shined through from the outer room, Kiam unlocked the safe then hesitated before opening the door and peering inside. He knew that the contents would be gone, but he needed confirmation. Proof that his surrogate mother had been murdered over what had been inside.

  He opened the door to the safe and reached inside. His hand came into contact with what he was feeling for. He grabbed ahold of it and pulled it out, surprised that it was still in there.

  The backpack was musty from years of sitting, but its weight told Kiam that it had not been bothered even before he opened it and looked inside. Stacks of money threatened to spill out onto the floor. Kiam stood there in a daze. If DeMarcus or someone else hadn’t beaten Miss Charlene to death while robbing her for the money, what the fuck had happened?

  The answer came to him almost instantaneously. Miss Charlene had died because she wouldn’t give up his stash spot. In that moment his love for her doubled and his anger quadrupled.

  “What you got there, man?” The question came from behind him.

  Kiam whirled around and in one smooth motion the banger was off his waist and in his hand. He stepped toward Slim and stuck the Nine in his gut. “You wanna know what I got, nosey muthafucka?” he snarled.

  “Nah, not really,” dude reconsidered, but Kiam told him anyway.

  “I got your muthafuckin’ epitaph right here if you don’t fall the fuck back.” He raised his arm and slapped the curious ass fool across the head with the burner, drawing blood.

  “Nigga, you don’t have to follow me around. I told you five minutes. Five goddamn minutes! But you on some nosey shit.” He pistol whipped the white meat out of the smoker’s head.

  Standing over the fallen man, he reached inside the backpack and grabbed a stack. He tossed the money on the floor beside the bloodied dude and gritted. “Nosey people get it too. Dark Man X.

  Check him out sometime.”

  Inside the car, Kiam was quiet as Czar drove off. He stared out the window at nothing in particular while his emotions tested the strength of his mind.

  “Did you find what you were looking for, nephew?” asked Czar, glancing down at the backpack that sat between Kiam’s legs.

  “Nah, man, I didn’t find nothin’.” His answer was the truth; the backpack raised more questions than it provided answers.

  “You still wanna hit Lee Road and try to catch up with DeMarcus? He has a car lot out in Cleveland Heights.”

  Kiam thought about that for a minute. If he ran into DeMarcus now he would act on emotion and push the nigga’s hairline back. Wrong or right, he didn’t give a fuck. But Pop had schooled him to be a thinker and he refused to let those lessons be in vain.

  “I wanna put that on hold for a minute. DeMarcus isn’t going anywhere.” He left it hanging in air, because Pop had also stressed that you never let your right hand know what the left one is thinking.

  Changing tactics, Kiam said, “Take me on Benwood. I want to check on somebody and see what she’s been up to.”

  Czar didn’t have to ask who lived there, he already knew. She had been Kiam’s little wifey before he went away.

  The Past…

  Faydrah Combs had been a tomboy all of her early life, playing ball and stealing out of stores right alongside of Kiam, DeMarcus, and the other little bad ass boys. When those same knuckleheads put their basketballs down and started slinging rocks, she was down with that, too. Running up
to cars and slushing through the snow for that next sale.

  Back then she was just one of the homies. Then around thirteen years old, her titties started sprouting out and she grew a little bump for an ass. Those jeans that used to sag started fitting tight. That’s when things changed, because that’s when those same boys that she used to shoot ball with, and now hustled with, started trying to cut something with her. Every one of them except Kiam.

  The funny thing was, that’s what made her want his mean, black, skinny tail. One day she had built up her courage and walked right up to him and kissed him in the mouth. “Nigga, you’re taking my cherry,” she regulated.

  Kiam shoved her up off of him. “Fuck you doing, girl?”

  “You’re going to be my man,” she declared, stepping right back in his space and wrapping her arms around his neck.

  He shoved her back away from him, harder this time. “Eyez, you trippin’. You’re my homie, I’m not tryna get with you like that,” he spat.

  She loved when he called her Eyez, but she hated that he still saw her as one of the boys. He had crushed her little feelings. But she hadn’t let him know it.

  “Boy, I was just playing with you anyway. Don’t nobody want your little boney ass,” she shot back, throwing the bit of booty she had as she walked away.

  She left the block, went home and cried in her pillow. She cursed God for not blessing her with the type of ass and femininity that Kiam would not have been able to resist.

  From that point on she hid her feelings from him, but whenever they were out hustling and his body came close to hers, her virgin flower begged to be watered.

  Two years later, she was still hustling with him. Not because she was as hooked on that street shit as Kiam and them were, but at least hustling alongside of him kept her in his presence. But it was pure torture for her to have to watch him push up on other chicks.

  One night seeing Kiam caked up with a female at a party they had attended, Faydrah abruptly left and trekked three miles home, tears running down her chin.

  When she got home, she walked in the house and slammed the door behind her, awakening her mom who was asleep on the couch.

  “Do you have to make so much noise?” Rebecca complained.

  “Sorry.” Faydrah ignored the crack pipe on the end table. They had already had it out about that more times than either of them could count.

  She sat down on the couch, laid her head on her mother’s shoulder and screamed, “Ugh! I swear I hate him.”

  Rebecca put an arm around her only child. “Okay, tell me what Kiam has done now.” She was well aware that he was the source of all of her daughter’s frustration.

  “He won’t notice me unless I’m flipping a brick with him or busting a gun beside him. I could walk butt naked in front of that boy and he wouldn’t even look twice.” Faydrah poked her lips out.

  “Honey, how do you expect him to notice you when you dress and act just like he does?”

  “I don’t care,” she mumbled.

  “Tomorrow I’m going to dress you up and do your hair, and if

  Kiam doesn’t notice you I’ll quit getting high.”

  Faydrah laughed. “You should quit anyway.”

  The next day when Faydrah went out on the block, all the homies mouths were on the ground. Her jeans hugged her booty like leotards, and her breasts commanded notice. Her hair, which she had religiously worn in a ponytail, flowed loosely down her back. Her lips were glossed and her nails were painted in a girlie design.

  The block huggers were transfixed.

  “Uh, put y’alls tongues back in y’alls mouths because there’s only one nigga out here that I want,” she announced with confidence.

  “Who, me?” said DeMarcus.

  “Nigga, you wish.” She shut him down. Then walked up to the one she so desired.

  Kiam was posted up on the hood of his Yukon. He had been watching her since she walked up. She was looking all the way sexy.

  “Hey, baby,” she said in a sultry tone that she had rehearsed all morning long.

  “What’s good, Eyez?” He spoke back.

  “You,” she said. “When are you going to quit playing and be my man?” She threw her hand on her hip, feigning confidence. But inside she was so nervous she was about to pee on herself.

  “Just like that, huh?” He flashed a cocky smile.

  “Yep, just like that.”

  “Girl, go on home.” He quickly extinguished her hope.

  Faydrah bit down on her lip to keep from crying. Then she turned on her heels and held her head high. She would break down when she got home, but not out there in front of all of them.

  “I’ll be over to pick my woman up when I come out the trap.”

  Faydrah stopped in her tracks! She couldn’t trust her ears. She slowly turned around and stared at Kiam, afraid to ask him if she had heard him correctly.

  “I said what you think I said,” he clarified. Then he walked up to her and kissed some of that lip gloss off of her lips.

  Faydrah almost fainted.

  Kiam felt her legs weaken. He held her close and kissed her again. “Go on home, baby. I’ll be through around nine.”

  When he took his arms from around her, she didn’t walk home, she floated.

  Later that night, she drifted to the sky as Kiam tenderly deflowered her. That was the beginning of a young love that lasted until Kiam went away.

  Kiam recalled it all. He had thought about her many times during his bid, but he still felt he had done the right thing by telling her to go on with her life. He had heard that she was in corporate America now. That proved that letting go had been best for her.

  Kiam was out of the car as soon as it came to a stop in front of Faydrah mother’s house.

  “I’ll be right back,” he told Czar.

  Ten minutes later he returned with a glint of light in his coal black eyes. He had Czar to drop him back off at the hotel so that he could stash the backpack and change clothes, then he hailed a taxi over to the address that Rebecca had given him.

  Chapter 7

  Long Time No See

  “Excuse me, Miss, can you tell me where the rest room is?”

  Kiam’s voice boomed at Faydrah’s back.

  For a brief moment she was frozen in her spot. Even though time and circumstances had separated them physically, the connection that they once shared made his voice feel like water to a thirsty soul.

  Turning slowly and barely able to breath due to the excitement that rose up in her chest, Faydrah pulled her glasses from her face to make sure that her eyes weren’t fooling her just in case her ears were.

  “Kiam?”

  “Who else you letting get up behind you?” Kiam jokingly stated.

  Faydrah turned completely and gasped at the beautiful sight before her. She put her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and hugged him tightly. “Oh my god, when did you get home?” She asked breathlessly.

  “A few days ago,” Kiam nuzzled his face against the crease in her neck. “You act like you missed somebody.”

  “I did miss you,” she whined. She secured her hold around him.

  After a few more seconds of body to body embrace, she backed up and looked him up and down as she ran her hands over his chest. “Look at you, all buff. I guess I can’t call you skin and bones no more,” she teased.

  “Nah, I got my weight up. Been eating my Wheaties.” Kiam blushed a little as the warm memories of their knee-high days flooded his mind.

  “So, what’s up? How did you know to find me here?” She asked as her eyes kept wondering all over his body.

  Kiam stood there letting her soak him up.

  “Never mind, you don’t have to answer that. I already know who told you where I work. Mama still loves you,” she added, unconsciously running her tongue over her lips.

  “Damn, Eyez. Why you keep looking at me like that?” He affectionately called her by the childhood nickname he had given her due to her pretty diamond shaped light br
own eyes.

  Faydrah blushed.

  “I can’t believe you’re standing here that’s all.”

  “When is your lunch break? I need to sit and talk to you.”

  Faydrah looked at her watch. “I had my break already, but I get off at 1:00. I came in early. Let me go up and get my things, then we can go.”

  “Hurry up, a man is hungry,” he said, rubbing his stomach.

  “That is the story of your life. Just sit down, I’ll be right back.” She pushed him toward the seats in the lobby.

  “You still think you can beat me,” Kiam joked as he sat down.

  “Whatever. Just don’t leave.”

  “I’ma wait right here,”

  Faydrah giggled as she headed to the elevator.

  Kiam’s eyes wondered over her curves as she moved away. Everything was swollen in all the right places. Damn she ain’t a teenager no more.

  Faydrah’s stomach filled with butterflies as she rode to the seventh floor. When the elevator came to a stop she damn near ran off.

  “Damn, girl. What the hell happened in the lobby that got you showing all thirty-two?” Gina asked from behind the receptionist’s desk.

  “I ran into an old friend. Cover for me, I need to clock out,” she replied, whizzing by. Quickly, she moved around her office grabbing her briefcase, cell phone and keys. Cutting off the light she took one last look then shut the door. “Alright girl I’ll call you tonight if I can,” she said to Gina as she headed to the staircase.

  “That must be a hell of an old friend. He got you taking the steps,” Gina yelled out.

  “Shut up,” Faydrah laughed as she entered the stairwell and moved swiftly down to the lobby.

  Reaching the last flight, she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. Then she reached in her pocket and popped the other half of her mint in her mouth and exited the hallway. When she got to the seats Kiam wasn’t there. She immediately went into panic mode. Her eyes moved all over the lobby in search of him. Damn, she hadn’t even gotten his number.

  Just as disappointment set in, Kiam came up from behind and put his arms around her. Faydrah jumped, he had a chick’s nerves scrambled with excitement.