by K'wan
“Damn,” said Eve, rubbing her palm against the seat. “I see you’ve been doing big things while I was gone.”
“Oh, this?” Cassidy asked, putting the car in drive. “This is a loaner. A friend of mine let me borrow it to come and pick you up.”
“You’ve got some nice-ass friends.”
“Please, Butter ain’t nobody.”
“Butter who?”
“Eve, you mean to tell me that you don’t remember Butter from Thirty-ninth and Seventh?”
“You talking about that nappy-headed nigga who used to work with Felon?”
“Boy done got a haircut and a few dollars, girl. Him and Felon are partners now. They’re the niggaz to see.”
“Cassidy, you lying.”
“True story, Eve. Them niggaz was ringing bells on the streets while you were gone. Him and Felon done put in a whole lot of work for Macho.”
“I heard that nigga Macho got killed a while back.”
“How the fuck do you think Felon and Butter got to take over the spot?”
“Them niggaz killed Macho?” Eve asked in disbelief.
“Eve, I know you ain’t a gossip, but don’t never repeat what I’m about to tell you.”
“On the click.”
“A’ight. Me and this nigga Butter been fucking around for a little while now. He’s kinda cute when he cleans up and he’s generous as hell with his cheese. Anyhow, me and this nigga was laid up in the telly one night. He was bumping a lil, but you know I don’t fuck with that shit. If weed and liquor can’t do it, then it don’t need to be done. So, the yay got this nigga feeling talkative and shit. He starts telling me about how niggaz who didn’t respect him was gonna get dealt with accordingly. He starts running down the line about niggaz he killed and was gonna kill, then Macho’s name came up. Seems he had a personal beef with the cat from back in the days.”
“What did Macho do to him?” Eve asked.
“I really don’t know,” Cassidy said. “But whatever it was, it must’ve been real fucked up. I didn’t even bother to ask. To make a long story short, Felon and Butter got on with the nigga and gained his trust. As soon as they got him to drop his defenses, they murdered his ass so they could take over his spot. Niggaz in the hood wasn’t stupid enough to challenge them for Macho’s turf, so they’ve just been rocking.”
“Damn,” Eve exclaimed. “Let me find out everybody wants to be a killer.”
“Ain’t no want about it with these two, Eve. Felon is more laid-back, but Butter is bout that.”
“I can’t believe them fools done came up like that. I know Butter is a freak, but I’ll bet that pretty nigga Felon is trying to hit everything moving.” Eve chuckled.
“With all that money they clocking, you’d think he would. I seen him with a few cluckers, but the queen bitch is home now. Fights over, ladies. The champ is here!” Cassidy teased.
“Cut it out, Cas.” Eve blushed. “I can’t win something that I ain’t fighting for.”
“Stop fronting, Eve. I see the way he used to look, and your hot ass used to stare right back. You better be glad Uncle Bobby never caught on.”
“Well, things are different now, Cassidy. I just did almost two joints in that shit box, for a gun that belonged to them niggaz. Felon and Butter skated, and I had to take the weight.”
“Don’t carry it like that, Evelyn. You know they didn’t mean for it to go down like that. The only reason Felon didn’t step up to hold that time was because of his record. They would’ve slain him. He tried to give Uncle Bobby money for the lawyer, but that crazy-ass old man started shooting at him. He was fucked up about what happened to you, Eve, and if you hadn’t been so damn bullheaded, he could’ve told you himself.”
“Whatever.” Eve sucked her teeth and turned to the window. She knew the things she was saying were more out of anger than a grudge. She knew that Butter and Felon hadn’t been directly responsible for her getting locked up. She knew the stakes when she got in the car. You play, you pay. In the early nights of her incarceration, she would lie on her bunk and cry. Not out of fear, but frustration. She placed the blame for her situation everywhere but the right place. On herself.
She often thought about Felon and what he might’ve been in the world doing. Did he have a girl? Did he change his mind about going back to school? She and Felon had always had a bond like brother and sister, but it eventually it had evolved into something else. It had always been on the tip of their tongues, but neither had been willing to say it.
Eve broke her silence. “What up with the crew?”
“Twenty-Gang is still Twenty-Gang,” Cassidy said with a shrug. “We ride to the end. You know how that shit goes. My bitches is still crazy as hell, chasing one dream or another.” Twenty-Gang started out as a few girls from 120th Street that hung out together and held each other down. As time progressed and their reputation grew, so did their number. Twenty-Gang was recognized by cats in every borough. The members of Twenty-Gang were all getting money from various hustles. Hoeing, carjacking, robbery. There were even a few of them with bodies under their belts.
“We winning?” Eve asked.
“The smart ones are. I can’t make them hoes get money; they gotta want it.”
“I know that’s right. How’s the family?”
“Mom is still mom.”
“Partying her ass off?”
“You know it. But at least she’s managed to hold this job at the post office down for a while.”
“That’s good, C. What’s up with Sheeka?”
“Don’t even get me started. I wanted to kill that bitch this morning.”
“What happened?”
“She had the nerve to come stumbling her drunk ass in the house at damn near seven this morning. Talking bout she went to party that ‘Will and them’ was throwing. Little hot in the pussy bitch didn’t even have no drawers on. I don’t know what the fuck is up with that girl.”
“She’s trying to get in where she fits in,” Eve said while lighting a cigarette. “Sheeka is barely eighteen, and still impressionable. She sees you getting attention from men, so she wants it too.”
“I can dig it, but it ain’t the same thing.”
“How is it not the same, Cassidy? You fuck with niggaz for paper.”
“First of all, I don’t fuck all of the niggaz I talk to,” Cassidy said with a little bit of an attitude. “Second of all, if I do go out and party with somebody I don’t never get drunk to the point where I’m slipping. You won’t never hear about none of these niggaz getting me high and running a train on me.”
“You ain’t gotta get defensive about it,” Eve shot back. “All I was trying to say is that she’s imitating what she sees.”
“Look, Eve,” Cassidy said, sparing her a glance. “Don’t come out of lockup getting all judgmental. You might not get yours the way I get it, but ya still get it dirty. Knocking niggaz over the head is crooked too. Purse-snatcher.”
“Fuck you,” Eve said, giggling. “I haven’t snatched a purse since I was fourteen. Hoe.”
The two friends laughed and talked a little more junk as the Lexus ate up the miles back to the city. When they reached New York City, Cassidy got off the highway near Webster Avenue in the Bronx. She was starving, so they decided to roll up to a White Castle and get something to eat. Eve could also use the opportunity to change her clothes. She didn’t want to hit the hood wearing that played-out sweat suit.
When they entered the fast-food joint, there weren’t that many people, so they were able to immediately place their orders. While they were ordering, Eve noticed two guys watching them from a table by the window. One was light and the other was dark. When Cassidy turned around, the light-skinned one winked at her. She just wrinkled up her nose and gave them her back. By the heavy jewels that they were wearing, Cassidy knew that they were getting money somewhere, but she wasn’t trying to play herself like a chicken.
Eve shook her head and laughed. She got a kick out of how men acted o
ver a pretty face. She decided to go into the lady’s room and change while Cassidy waited for the food. As Eve was headed in the direction of the bathroom, the two kids were headed in her direction. She sighed, ready to respond to whatever line they might throw at her. To Eve’s surprise, they barely spared her a second look as they walked over to Cassidy. She just picked up her face and went into the bathroom.
Eve fished around inside of the bag to see what Cassidy had brought her to wear, and smiled. Eve began to pull off her sweat suit and slip into the things that Cassidy had brought for her.
The two hustlers were still trying to get a conversation out of Cassidy when Eve came out of the bathroom. When they saw the transformation, both of their jaws dropped. Eve was wearing a pair of tight-fitting, black, Lady Enyce jeans that showed off her toned thighs and well-developed ass. The red and black Lady Enyce shirt stretched over her body, advertising her 38C breasts and flat stomach. On her feet, she had on a pair of Eve-lizard skinned Sara Jordan boots with black two-inch heels. Eve had gone into the bathroom looking like a little boy and came out looking like a dime piece.
“Damn shorty,” the dark-skinned one said, looking Eve up and down. “Where’d you come from?”
Eve looked at him and rolled her eyes.
“Word,” he continued. “It’s like that, ma?”
“Why don’t y’all stop acting like that?” the light-skinned one added on. “How about we say fuck these murder burgers and go get a real meal?”
“Listen, fellas,” Cassidy said, picking up her burgers. “It’s nothing personal; we just don’t eat meat.”
“Yeah,” Eve added on, “we got a ‘lick-her’ license.”
“Liquor license?” the dark-skinned one asked, confused.
“You didn’t know?” Eve asked, putting her arm around Cassidy. While the two young men looked on, still trying to make sense of what the hell they were talking about, Eve leaned in and kissed Cassidy on the mouth. They then proceeded to walk arm in arm from the fast-food joint, laughing while the two hustlers stood there bug-eyed.
4.
Butter sat in front of his big-screen television, laughing his ass off as Maury revealed test results to young couples who were seeking the identity of their kid’s father. The only time you could’ve caught Butter out of bed before eleven was when Maury’s show covered this topic. He got a kick out of the grown-ass men and woman who played themselves on national television.
Butter got his name from his butterscotch complexion. He was a short man with broad shoulders and limbs like little tree stumps. Butter had a hard face to go with his hard-ass persona. His was a shoot-you-first, fuck-a-questions kinda guy. He was Felon’s bulldog and his bite was far worse than his bark.
Tynisha, the chick that Butter had lain up with the night before, came out of the back room wearing only her panties. She flopped her horse ass on the couch next to Butter and began to watch the show. Butter looked at her and sucked his teeth. He hated when people interrupted his morning talk show.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking down at her.
“Watching the show,” she responded innocently.
“Did I ask you to watch the show with me?”
“No, but I thought—”
“See,” he cut her off, “that’s the problem with women these days. Y’all think too damn much. Why don’t you go in the kitchen and fix a nigga something to eat?”
“Damn,” she said getting up. “You ain’t exactly a morning person, are you?”
“Hell nah,” he said, lighting the blunt clip that he had left in the ashtray. “I ain’t real big on afternoons either.”
“What do you want me to fix you?”
“I could give a shit. Just as long as you don’t come back out this muthafucka til my show goes off. Now go ahead,” he said, slapping her on her yellow ass.
Tynisha let out a giggle and ran off into the kitchen. All Butter could do was shake his head. Tynisha was cool, but she wasn’t Cassidy. He found himself thinking of the tall beauty more and more. His peoples thought he was whipped. It wasn’t that. He just knew a good thing when he saw it. He was quite aware of Cassidy’s extracurricular activities, but he didn’t really care, as long as she kept it away from him. Cassidy was fine and had a good head on her shoulders. He figured that, with a little coaxing and few well-thought-out gifts, he could reform her. That was the main reason he had let her hold his car. Unbeknown to Cassidy, Butter had big plans for her.
Butter’s show was again interrupted by someone knocking on his door. Before going to the peephole, he got his 9 from under the sofa cushion. Butter never received guests this early in the morning, especially unannounced.
“Who that?” Butter asked, easing to the door.
“Me, nigga!”
Butter relaxed a little when he heard the voice. Tucking his pistol into the small of his back, he opened the door and invited his closest road dawg into his apartment. He and Felon had been down since free lunch. They had met during an awkward situation back in junior high school. Butter, a seventh grade transfer student, had moved to the neighborhood from the Bronx. It was already halfway through the school year, so most of the other children had already paired off into clicks. Butter, being short and fat at the time, often found himself alone and on the receiving end of nasty taunts.
On this particular day, after school, a group of eighth graders had Butter cornered, trying to take his Delta Force sneakers from him. The youth was outmanned and unarmed against three eighth graders and a box cutter. Still he wouldn’t back down. Breaking a Snapple bottle against the ground, he squared off against his foes. The kids who had gathered around the fight cheered and instigated as blood was about to be spilled.
Suddenly the crowd parted and five youngsters stepped through, wearing war faces. Felon stood there, decked out in a Wind-breaker and untied Timberlands, moved to the middle of the circle, with Bullet guarding his flank. The five-man crew surrounded the three and let Felon act as the spokesman.
“What’s up with this shit, Ricky? Why it take two of y’all to get at one nigga?” Felon asked, folding his arms.
“This ain’t got nothing to do with you, B.” Ricky tried to smooth it out.
“I think it does,” Felon replied coldly. “See, I don’t like sucka shit. You having the numbers and still needing the blade seems like sucka shit to me. If you got a beef with shorty, give him the one-on.”
“I’d fuck this nigga up!” Butter shouted, trying to sound like he wasn’t scared to death. He never broke eye contact with Ricky or loosed the bottle.
“Break that nigga up, Rick!” someone shouted from the crowd.
“What’s up?” Felon asked.
Ricky looked from his crew to Butter, then to Felon. He really wasn’t much of a fighter, but he was bigger and always had his boys with him. Butter was smaller, so Ricky figured he might be able to take him. He never considered the fact that the younger boy might have hand skills. Butter blackened one of Ricky’s eyes and split his lip pretty badly. After the incident the eighth graders never bothered Butter again. He was so grateful to Felon that he took to hanging around him. On a spring day, behind Booker T. Washington, Felon and Butter became friends and crime partners.
“Nigga,” Butter said playfully. “You gonna fuck around and get shot popping up at a niggaz’ house unannounced.”
“Put that damn thing away,” Felon said, inviting himself to a seat on the couch. “I tried to call ya bitch ass three or four times. Cut ya fucking phone on, dickhead.”
“Oh shit,” Butter said slapping himself in the forehead. “I forgot to cut that shit back on last night.”
“See, that’s ya own damn fault. What if it had been an emergency?”
“Then you would’ve handled it, kid. You know you’re the eyes in back of my head, Felon.”
“I know that’s right,” Felon said, picking up the clip and taking a pull. “From now til we leave this here for warmer climates. Smell me?”
“To
hell and back again,” said Butter, taking the clip. “So what the fuck is so important that you gotta come fucking with me at the crack of dawn?”
“First of all, it’s after ten,” Felon corrected him. “Second of all, we got a problem, son. A problem that needs to be addressed.”
Before Felon could continue, Tynisha came out of the kitchen, carrying a snack tray. On the tray there was some bacon that looked like black licorice, toast that obviously had burnt, and eggs that ran more than Luke and Laura from General Hospital. She tried, though.
“What the fuck is that?” Butter asked.
“Your breakfast, daddy,” she responded with a confused look.
“Ain’t this some bullshit? It’s bad enough that I gotta worry about niggaz trying to kill me on the streets, then you wanna try to poison a muthafucka?”
“The bacon is just a little overcooked because I was talking to my mother on the phone and got caught up,” she explained.
“Baby, I’m not eating that shit. You can give it to Felon.”
“I’m good,” Felon said, putting his hands up.
“Fuck the dumb shit,” Butter said, getting off the couch. “I’m gonna throw some sweats on and go get some real food. Felon, Give me a few minutes. In the meantime,” he turned to Tynisha, “give my boy some of the fire top you twirking wit.”
She looked at Butter with hurt in her eyes. She loved the shit out of Butter, but he didn’t seem to feel the same way. He only had eyes for her home girl, Cassidy. Tynisha knew that Cassidy wasn’t checking for Butter like that. She thought that if she could just show Butter what a good bitch she was, he might come around and wife her. She knew that she would be playing herself, but if Butter wanted her to knock Felon down, then she had to do it.
Felon caught Tynisha by the shoulders as she was descending, head first, into his lap. “Hold on, baby girl. I appreciate the gesture, but I’m good.”
“Stop acting like a bitch,” Butter said from the doorway. “Let the bitch gum you down, nigga.”
