“Bout time you taking out the trash,” Reneice said looking Kya up and down.
“Reneice I really don’t need you saying sit right now either.”
“Then you shouldn’t have invited me over dumb ass!”
“So you gone let this lil bitch talk to you any kind of way? That’s probably why her stupid ass got raped because she couldn--”
Click, Clack
The house got quiet at the sound of a gun clocking. Reneice had that same possessed look on her face that she had when Mykell slapped her. Mykell just looked at her wondering where she got a gun from while raising his hands in the air.
“Oh no, don’t get quiet now bitch. You sho had a lot to say a minute ago. Gon on ahead and finish what yo was saying. I got raped because of what bitch?” she then pointed the gun at Mykell, “And you nigga, you up here pillow talking and discussing me with this bitch? What type of shit is that? I never would have thought that you would be a bitch nigga!”
“Baby look it ain’t even like that, I never talked about you to this bitch. She just doing that to fuck with you.”
“Oh really you expect me to believe that? Then how the fuck she know I was raped then? That shit damn sure wasn’t a national headline!”
“Because while you was too stuck on stupid to do anything, he was with me every night.”
All of a sudden Reneice started praying while moving the gun from Kya to Mykell back and forth still looking possesed.
“Lord, please forgive me for what I’m about to do. You know my struggle and you know my feelings. Don’t charge it to my head and don’t charge it to my heart, Charge it to the game.” prayed Reneice.
Finally, she aimed the gun at her target and pulled the trigger.
POW!
To Be Continued…
Pink Panties
Keys
Cherokee
The second I saw his face, my whole mind went blank. Then, I began reminiscing and started thinking hard about a lot of shit from my past. It was as if everything that I had been through was happening all over again. The thoughts ran rapidly through my mind as I drove down the main street, a routine I had done many times before. Just seeing his face had completely thrown me off altogether. From then on, I decided to stick to my side of town to purchase my petroleum, instead of going to the hood.
Running into my exes was not my favorite thing to do. I had played most of them in one way or another, mostly just before they tried to play me. I made a right at the upcoming light and continued with my thought process. I did a quick calculation of the men I had slept with from the loss of my virginity to the present. I could never keep them in chronological order, but I could definitely say if they were good or bad and why. Money, yes, it is necessary. You must have it and you must share. My granny once told my cousin and me that we were sitting on a gold mine. She was right, even though I had no idea what she was talking about at the tender age of eight.
Most women have fucked for money, whether they want to admit it or not. Call it what you want but its prostitution, even if you do it indirectly. Honestly, the men should pay. Especially, if they have that “barefoot and pregnant mentality.” Married or not, you have given a man some coochie for a new item or two. Prostitution is the oldest profession known to mankind. How females want to go about handling theirs is up to them.
Personally, I did my own thing and kept a small circle of like-minded individuals. I made sure I was no dummy and I made my own money as well. Luckily, for my parents, I enjoyed school and made good grades. You should not only have “hood smarts,” but “book smarts” as well. I can’t stand a dumb ass ghetto person, especially a female. We all have our moments I suppose, and a nigga will definitely bring that “ghetto” out of you.
I started learning lessons about “the birds and the bees” at an early age. Besides the very honest and blunt things my granny told me, the old bitches in the neighborhood hit me with gems like, “Keep a nickel between ya legs.” I’m still trying to figure that one out. I remember clearly how it all started…
Summer of 2000
My first sweetie was Bernard, but we called him Boodah. I will never forget him; he jumped the life lessons off at thirteen. He was sixteen, already in high school, and somehow always had money. He would buy me things all the time and every pair of Jordan’s he owned he got me as well. I never questioned where his money came from but I reaped the benefits and hid them from my Granny. My Granny and Mom paid for my hair to get done every two weeks so I would pocket the money that he gave me for it, and used it for my nails and toes. I started to get accustomed to it and when he couldn’t deliver, I would get mad. He had created a monster. “I need, I need, I need,” is all he heard out of my mouth. After I got the hang of sex, and my body filled out I caught the eyes of even older guys. My new round knobs and shapely ass made me no longer a preteen, but “ready” as the boys in my hood would say. I was so in love with Boodah that other niggas didn’t matter. I just knew we were going to be together forever.
For us to be so young he would always say shit like, “Don’t let niggas fuck for free!” I would just listen with a puzzled look. Who were the “other niggas” he kept talking about? After six months of puppy love and gifts, my cousin Tiara told me that she saw Boodah leaving my best friend Raven’s house in the middle of the night when she and my Uncle were coming home late from the airport. I just knew they were having sex because I knew her and what else were they doing at 2 a.m. with no supervision.
I never thought I would be a victim to her hoeish ways though. Being her friend, I thought I knew everything about her. She had been having sex since we were eleven and was already on guy number thirteen. Well, at least that was the number that she would admit to, but I knew the number was even higher. She was the neighborhood hoe and I defended her every time I heard about it, as a real friend should. I didn’t judge her. I mean isn’t that what happens when you are an only child and your mom works midnights? With too much time to yourself, freedom, and breasts like a grown woman’s, it equaled disaster.
I called her immediately after I hung up with Tiara. There was a long pause after I confronted her. She gave me a nervous laugh and lied about the whole ordeal. My cousin wouldn’t lie to me though. I hung up as if I was cool with her response. I didn’t lose any sleep over my bestie that night, but I was hurt by Boodah. I remember my heart beating hard in my chest and the tears pouring into my pillow. I didn’t even bother confronting him.
I decided Raven wasn’t my friend due to her actions. Besides, a million other people had told me she wasn’t my friend long before that happened. She stayed flirting with my boyfriends and was caught in awkward situations many times. She always tried to outdo me on so many different levels. I tried to ignore all the signs being the loyal friend that I was. I’d convinced myself she would never do ME like that. We’d known each other ever since elementary school, so our friendship meant a lot to me. I guess I just needed to see for myself. Needless to say, I beat that ass before the end of that summer and embarrassed her at the playground in front of Boodah and his friends.
What killed me was how she acted so surprised. As if she couldn’t believe I was punching her in the face, like we both hadn’t beat people up for less. She had that coming and she got her ass beat again a few days later by an older chick for the same reason. Boodah was out of sight before I had a chance to slap him. That was my first lesson about boys and girls though. Girls are sneaky and can’t be trusted, and boys will fuck and lie about anything. I vowed to protect my heart by any means from then on. Letting people get too close just makes the disappointment greater later.
I lit the blunt that was in my ashtray and made a left as I continued to reflect on the past.
Lesson two, was taught in a different manner by an older more experienced guy. I went over to Boodah’s house the day after I fought Raven to brag and do the whole dramatic break up thing. I deserved and needed that moment because I was still pissed and hurt. He owed me that much
I thought. His brother Buck had opened the back door and led me to the basement. I sat on the couch waiting for Boodah to surface. Buck sat down next to me and started to talk to me about the “Jenny Jones Show” that was on the TV. We shared a few laughs while the female guest told her boyfriend that she had a crush on his best friend.
“Is Boodah here,” I asked Buck after ten minutes had passed. “Naw, he went to the courts,” he replied while looking straight at the TV. “Ok,” I said as I hopped up. Buck pulled me down and sat me on his lap. I was immediately confused but before I had a chance to resist he kissed me. I remember thinking that he kissed much better than his brother did. He started rubbing my breasts on top of my shirt and sucking my neck. He was so fine and I felt privileged that he even wanted to fuck with me. I saw him all the time when I came over but he hardly ever showed me any attention.
Buck had to be at least 18 but he had the face of a baby. He smelled as if he was fresh out of the shower and he had a fresh fade. He stood up with me in his arms and spread my body across the couch. He looked sweeter than pie as he kissed my body from my navel to my inner thighs. I watched him as he pulled my pink panties down from underneath my skirt and put his face in between my legs. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the pleasure, but I was still in shock. I felt my moisture building up and my legs starting to shake a bit. The slurping sounds made me quiver.
“His brother never did this to me,” I thought.
Buck had opened me up to something new. My heart started racing and my breathing became heavy. I lost control of my thoughts and my body took over. I swirled my hips on his tongue like my hula-hoop had taught me. That childhood toy was one of my favorites and the skill was being put to good use.
I closed my eyes and let the feeling take over my body completely. Then I had a sensation that I never felt with his brother. A squirt of juices shot out like a water gun. He stopped and kissed my mouth. He stood up and I saw his dick sticking straight out. He looked at the clock on the wall. I was ready for sex and I knew that he was too. I thought he was walking over to get a condom but instead the cabinet he opened revealed guns, a white brick looking thing, some weed, and money. There was actually a whole lot of money. That explained why his brother kept money so much money. He was definitely involved in whatever it was his older brother was involved in. Up until that point, we hadn’t said anything to each other except about what was on TV and I was clueless as to what he was going to do next.
He threw some money on the couch next to me. “Ay, we can do this all the time if you keep this between us,” he said. I looked over at the pile of twenties. I guessed that was the end of our encounter, so I fixed my clothes and grabbed the money before he changed his mind. I didn’t say a word and headed for the door. He was either paying me to keep it a secret or paying for the pussy. Either way, he paid me. On my way to the door, I bumped into my ex literally, as I turned the corner going to the front of the house to make my way home. I cracked a sly smile at his facial expression and the thought of the events that had just taken place. I flashed the money in his face as he pushed past me and called out for his brother. I knew that he knew something wasn’t right.
That was just what I had needed to make me feel better. That was the icing on top of what was known as good “head.” The revenge was sweet. Somehow, Buck got ahold of my number and he gave me a call that night. He had me sneak him into my basement and we finished what we had started. He couldn’t get enough of me and I couldn’t get enough of his money.
After that, I would fuck with him on a regular. That was until his mom found out and banned me from calling and coming over to their crib. I can vividly remember sitting at my desk in school and sounding out the word prostitute so that I could look it up in the dictionary. Buck’s momma had called me a few names and a prostitute was her favorite. I needed the true meaning of the “insult.”
Prostitute: (Noun) One who will perform sexual acts if payment can be arranged.
Well, I didn’t arrange payment but Buck definitely ruined me by paying. Besides, he was benefiting too. He experienced a plethora of excitement, wetness, and loss of wages. I guess I caused a lot of drama between the brothers. That still didn’t stop me from seeing Buck though. I would page him and he would call my private line that my granny had set up for me due to the high volume of calls I received. He had a car so it wasn’t too hard to be somewhere that I had no business being.
I went to the mall almost every time I got some money. My uncle would drop Tiara and me off every Friday. Then we would walk over to the dollar show and be what the older people called “fast.” I forgot all about Raven and “what’s his face.” Right before school started Buck got me a pager and a necklace with a charm that said, P-I-N-K-Y. I was known in the neighborhood as the little girl fucking the brothers and to sum it all up, Pinky was my new nickname. I talked to a bunch of guys from then on and they all knew me as Pinky. Even though the name Pinky was not given to me for a positive reason, I embraced it, and kept wearing pink panties every day and using it as an alias. Never would I tell my real age or name. They never even asked.
I used the pager Buck gave me and paid for as my connection to my other life. It would go off all the time, even when I was with him. I just lied and said it was one of my girls. I saw why Raven liked sex, but I didn’t see why she never got anything in return. I had a rotation of four niggas that claimed me as their “girl” and paid my pretend bills with no problem. I just went along with those make-believe relationships with no remorse. All four of them were over eighteen. I was just a kid, little did they know.
I couldn’t hardly go anywhere or stay out late, so I was limited in what I could do. I lied about that and said I had a really strict grandma. Well, that wasn’t a complete lie. I would dodge the sex by saying I wasn’t ready or my period was on. I would only fuck the ones I really liked, which included Buck. He eventually found out about my activities and came to collect his pager. He actually asked me if I cheating on him and I just looked at him as if it was a trick question. The nigga actually had tears in his eyes. I handed him the pager and decided to chill on talking to guys for a while. The shit was getting too complicated. Lying, trying to keep my stories in order with these niggas, hiding shit from my granny, and sneaking out was giving me a headache. Returning the pager was a relief, until I got a cell phone and acquired a completely new set of problems.
At school, I was just plain old Cherokee and I liked it like that. I went to school across town with my cousin Tiara where my exploits in the hood weren’t as well known. Naturally though, Tiara had seen the “street pharmacists” that I had started talking to, and she wanted in on the action. We were two peas in a pod, so it was only right.
“Ay, my cousin wanna talk to your guy,” was all I had to say, and then Tiara would be hooked up with a hustler too. She started getting money and we shopped together and looked fly at school. It was a simple process that we repeated over and over again.
Besides the hustlers, I still drew attention from the older boys at school but their lack of money was an issue for me. Their moms were still buying their clothes. However, they were into things like being cute in the hallway, dressing alike, and taking Magic photos together. Ain’t no drug dealer doing that shit, so from time to time I would settle for a basketball player or somebody popular just for the show of it. After all, that was what high school was all about. In fact, it was during those high school days that I started my journal…
*****
Journal Entry February 2002
Today is the first day of my “New Life!” I will always be Pinky but I need to shake it somewhat. Cherokee is who I need to be and besides my favorite color is purple. My focus is at an all-time high right now. I can’t do shit but focus with my lack of friends. I should probably be happy since it’s my junior year and the school year is almost over, but I have a slight attitude for those same reasons. Who transfers at the end of the school year? If anything, I would rather be home with the people I grew u
p with, enjoying my upcoming senior year, prom, and graduation. Now I’m thrown into a whole new atmosphere. They got me singing the “Pledge of Allegiance” with the white folks. That’s already a sign to me that it’s going to be lame. I have no problem with other races, but I have grown accustom to all black everything. On top of that, we have to wear a uniform Monday through Thursday. I like to pick my own clothes out, personally.
“All right, let me get dressed and begin this day. The sooner I start, the sooner it will come to an end,” I thought. I threw my journal under my pillow for safekeeping. I heard a couple knocks on the door then my Momma stuck her head in.
“Good morning Cherokee. Why aren’t you dressed?” she asked.
“Hey Mom, I only have to put my clothes on,” I said as I stood up to finish the process. “I already took a shower.”
“Aren’t you excited?” she asked with a smile.
I laughed cause she was trying to be funny. She knew I had an attitude but what choice did I really have. I was there so I needed to make the best of the situation.
“I’m ready,” I said as I pulled my clothes out. How bad could it be?
My mom was up getting dressed for work. I checked her out as she put the last few touches on her outfit. “She looks nice with her business attire and short hairdo,” I thought. My mom could definitely pass for 30-something. I was happy about that because I knew I had good genes. My Mom was trying to break from her surroundings so she finished school and took a job here a year ago. She had the whole business look going but she wasn’t too good to buy food stamps and stolen merchandise. I liked that about her. She was becoming more successful each year but she never forgot where she came from.
PPP Box Set Page 10
