What's Really Hood!

by Wahida Clark

  “Victor, he’s engaged to some lucky girl… hell, I can’t pronounce her name.”

  “It’s QuoVadis,” Desiree said. “Click Photos and you’ll see a picture of them together.”

  The two started joking back and forth about Jelena’s fantasy to date a famous black author as the night moved on. Desiree made sure to stay up on the time because she would not be late for her visit with Lamar.

  Lamar sat in his huge den in front of the roaring fireplace sipping a glass of Johnnie Walker Red Label on the rocks. After satisfying his thirst he placed the empty glass on a coaster, then picked up a remote. With a touch of a button a retractable motorized screen unrolled behind him just as the Panasonic HD home theater projector filled the screen with the sex act that he had filmed with Desiree. He had hidden a camera to record everything when he tied the blindfold over her eyes. Slowly he spun his camel contoured chair around to face the screen. He smiled at his devious act. Of course he had asked to film their sex act once before but she was strictly against it. Well, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. He watched with pride as Desiree took his dick into her mouth. Tonight he was ready to film her once again once they got behind closed doors. As he watched the screen, he couldn’t help but wonder how sex would be with Jelena. At times he had wished that it had been Jelena and her juicy body that he had met at the club instead of Desiree… hell, he couldn’t help it that he liked his women thick. But somehow Desiree had grown on him. He grabbed his throbbing erection through his slacks as he watched Desiree’s sweet lips glide back and forth over his spit-shined dick. He couldn’t wait for eight p.m., which was now forty minutes away. Just as the scene showed Desiree flicking her wet tongue over his balls, his Motorola headset started to chime. Without removing his eyes from the screen he reached over to pick up the headset and place it on his head. Sliding the mic toward his lips, he answered the call.

  “Speak.”

  “We have a big problem,” the male voice calmly replied.

  “What kind of problem?”

  Lamar listenened closely as his right-hand man told him what the problem was. His mood went from aroused to pissed.

  “WHO THE FUCK TESTIN’ MY GANGSTA!” Lamar roared as he shot to his feet with his hand in a tight fist.

  “Lil’ Rick.”

  “Lil’ Rick, Lil’ Rick.” Lamar repeated the name, hoping to trigger when and where he had heard it.

  “Datwon had him pushing for him over near Shaw.”

  “How is Datwon?” Lamar asked as he tried to level his temper off and think clearly.

  “He’ll make it. The two tricks he was with called me first instead of the police. Like I said, I then called Dr. Evans and he patched Datwon up as best as he could. Datwon’s girl is with him at Evans’s private office.”

  “I want this Lil’ Rick nigga dead before the sun comes up!” Lamar ordered.

  “I already put the wheels in motion.”

  “Good… look, meet me at Evans’s office.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes. I’m on my way now. I can’t let niggas take me nor no one on my team for being soft!” Lamar stated. With his temper on the edge he yanked the headset off, then flicked the sex scene off. Five minutes later he was pulling out of his driveway in his black BMW 760Li.

  “Remember, if you see Lil’ Rick, call me as soon as possible and don’t say shit to ’im,” said Lamar’s right-hand man, Mance. Mance sat behind the wheel of his quiet-running black BMW M5 with black twenty-two-inch Zenetti Blade rims. Sitting next to him was a cute but deadly-looking Teairra Mari look-alike keeping an eye out for the D’s. The street hustler nodded his head at Mance, then gave him some dap. And just to make it stick in the hustler’s mind, Mance nodded at the girl next to him, who reached into the open glove compartment to pull out four grams of coke. She reached over Mance and dropped the work in the hustler’s hand.

  “You find Lil’ Rick for me and that’s yours, plus a grand when I see you again.”

  “No doubt, dawg,” the hustler replied. He knew he could sell the work and get four hundred and if he came across Lil’ Rick… shit, he would have enough to cop some weight. As Mance sped off, the hustler pulled the fur-lined hood of his Rocawear houndstooth jacket over his dreads and went walking up the block. He placed the four grams in his front left jacket pocket, then reached into the right to feel the rubber grip of his nine-millimeter.

  “Please, Tink,” the crackhead by the name of Tanisha begged. “Why we cain’t work out the deal like we always do? You know I’ma swallow.”

  “Cain’t do it dis round, Nisha. Cain’t take no shorts tonight,” Tink said, squinting from the burning kerosene heater in the far corner. He knew Trina would be pissed when she smelled kerosene in his gear. Only two grams to sell and he could go the fuck home.

  “Just this last time, Tink. I swear ’fore God I’ma come correct next time.” She had the nerve to drop to her knees with her hands clasped together.

  “Ain’t no next time,” Tink replied. “And get the fuck up.”

  “Please,” she pleaded, remaining on her knees.

  “No!”

  “Please.”

  “No!”

  “Please.”

  “Hell no, Nisha!” Tink said, standing up to peek out of her front window. “I just gave you some shake a few minutes ago. Whatcha do? Eat tha shit like candy or something?” he said, about to laugh.

  “Ha, ha, very funny!” Tanisha replied, sticking up her slender middle finger behind his back. She came to her feet, mumbling under her funky breath. Tink turned from the window to see Tanisha flopping down onto her flower-printed sofa. She rolled her eyes at Tink as he smiled at her.

  “What time your friend across the skreet get off?”

  Tanisha pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders.

  “You need to stop trippin’,” Tink stated as he pulled out a Snickers candy bar from his huge front right pocket. Catching the pissed-off Tanisha off guard, he tossed her a nice-sized ten piece of hard. “Think fast!”

  He may have thought he had caught her off guard but was proven wrong as she caught the crack in midair. Her face was instantly changed to “gonna get high soon” as she examined the crack.

  “Thanks, Tink!” She rose to her feet. “You want me to suck your dick now or can I hit this first?” The way she asked with no touch of shame you would have figured it was an everyday thang for her… and sadly… it was.

  “Nah, I’m good.” He waved her off. “But don’t ask fo’ shit else!” Again she gave him the finger, then turned to head for her bedroom. She knew that he didn’t like for her to get high where he could smell it.

  “I got dem thangs!” Bizzy boasted as he hit the block. He walked up on the group of hustlers drinking Colt 45s, sitting on the hood of the dark green ’84 Chevy Caprice Classic. Bizzy gave up some dap to everyone as he kept an eye out for Lil’ Rick. Bizzy sold two grams for a hundred dollars, then asked how the block was tonight. It was colder than a muhfucker, but the money was coming nonstop. That also meant the jack boys were roaming, so Bizzy made sure to keep his hands in his pockets. Not only to keep them warm, but to keep that hammer in his grip.

  When it neared ten minutes to eight, Bizzy felt the urge to seek some warmth and maybe some head. Tanisha popped into his mind. For a phat twenty piece he could get some pussy.

  “Yo, I’ll holla at y’all niggas later.” And with his exit, he headed down the block in his tan Timbs toward Tanisha’s crib. Minutes later he was rounding the corner and about to cross the street to Tanisha’s crib when he saw a figure coming down her steps. Bizzy froze, then backed up. It was Lil’ Rick. Bizzy had mistaken Tink’s blue hoodie for black and since Tink shared Lil’ Rick’s frame… Bizzy was fooled. Bizzy knew that Lil’ Rick was known to pay Tanisha a creep visit every now and then. Bizzy reached fast as he pulled out his cell phone to call Mance.

  “Yeah?” Mance answered on the third ring.

  “I see your man.”

  “Who?
Lil’ Rick!”

  “Yeah. He walkin’ up the street right now.”

  “He seen you?”

  “Nah.”

  “Can you follow him without being seen?”

  “Hold up, dawg. That ain’t part of the deal.”

  “It is if I add another grand.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “Ain’t no time for games, Bizzy. Will you do this or not?” Bizzy shifted his stance as he watched an easy two grand walking in the opposite direction. As the chilly wind bit into his exposed hand he made up his mind and told Mance he would do it.

  “Shit!” Mance cursed as he walked up to Lamar aka Kaseem.

  Kaseem stood up with his face still filled with anger. Yes, he lived a double life, a life of the street that Desiree didn’t know about. “What’s up?”

  “That was Bizzy; he’s trailing Lil’ Rick over by Shaw.”

  “Well what the fuck we still sitting in this office for? I meant what I said so let’s do this.”

  “I know, I know,” Mance said. “But… I don’t have my piece. All I got is the pump in my trunk.”

  Kaseem shrugged his shoulders. “Get it and let’s go.”

  The two had already discussed that Lil’ Rick would be made an example of. Kaseem could take the last of the meth that Datwon had been jacked for. Mance gave his girl a nervous glance as he popped the trunk to his BMW M5.

  “Just take the car and go to Kaseem’s crib,” Mance whispered. She kissed him on the lips, then followed his request.

  Kaseem pulled off seconds later in his black BMW 760Li, with Mance beside him with a twelve-gauge pump between his legs.

  A puzzled look appeared on Desiree’s face as she pulled up to Lamar’s driveway. By now she was accustomed to his greeting her at either the door or his driveway, but tonight she was met with silence. She pulled up to his closed two-car garage, then switched her ride off. Figuring that he would come bounding from his crib, she took the spare second to primp in the vanity mirror. As two minutes went by and there was no sign of Lamar she started smiling. He was up to one of his games, she thought. Zipping up her leather coat she grabbed her purse and made her exit.

  Lamar slowed his BMW 760Li at the red light when his car phone started to chime. With a simple push of a button mounted on the steering wheel he switched on the hands-free phone.

  “Yeah!”

  “Um… Lamar.” Desiree’s soft voice filled the BMW. “I know I’m not standing on your front step and you’re not home? Please explain? It’s eight-oh-five, Lamar.” Lamar slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. With the bullshit now at hand he had allowed Desiree to slip his mind. Thinking quickly, he told her the truth with a bit of lies. He told her a friend had been in an accident, car accident to be exact. He promised he would be home by nine. He then gave her the code to enter his crib. He told her to make herself at home and he promised to make it up to her.

  “Damn!” he muttered when she hung up. “Forgot all about that bitch.” When the light turned green he glanced over at Mance, who was back on the celly with Bizzy.

  Desiree felt a bit awkward as she entered Lamar’s crib. It was odd to be in his crib with him not there. She removed her leather jacket when she entered the den since the fireplace was roaring. She looked around and noticed that his place was cleaner than hers. Dropping her purse beside the loveseat she flopped down, then wondered if Lamar was up to something kinky. She loved how he was full of surprises. Tonight she wanted to have “the talk” with him. Heck, she figured he too was ready to take their relationship to the next level, and in her mind she couldn’t find one reason not to. Relaxing back into the comfort of the soft leather loveseat she closed her eyes. She started grinning. A kinky thought of waiting for Lamar in the nude crossed her mind. Keeping it real with herself, she allowed her mind to drift to Tyrone. Him and his silly name, Polo. As quickly as he popped into her mind, he was pushed out as she replaced him with Lamar. Minutes later she became bored and thirsty. To take care of the latter she got up and headed into his sunken kitchen. In her search of his refrigerator she found a carton of pineapple juice. When she was about to refill her glass again she heard someone coming through the front door. Walking quietly back into the den, she was surprised to find Mance’s girl, Nikki. Nikki had received a call from Mance just a few minutes ago so she went along with the lie about one of Lamar’s friends having a car accident. Nikki and Desiree got along fine since the two had been out on double dates a few times with Mance and Lamar. Nikki at times felt sorry for Desiree about her not knowing about Lamar’s secret life. It just goes to show, don’t believe everything you see.

  “Turn some music on or something on up in here, girl,” Nikki said. “And I know Lamar got something to drink.”

  “You handle the entertainment and I’ll get us something to sip on,” Desiree said. She figured she could hook something up with the Rémy Red Strawberry Kiwi Infusion that she had seen in the refrigerator. When she later took the two mixed drinks back into the den she found Nikki with the remote in her hand. They both sipped lightly at their drinks as the retractable motorized screen unrolled. Nikki loved to watch movies and she knew Lamar kept something worth watching in his movie section. When she pressed the PLAY button the screen filled with a graphic scene of Desiree riding Lamar. Desiree’s mixed drink nearly came out of her nose as she choked up.

  Tink, as usual, was walking with his head down. He was staying to his word and calling it a wrap after selling all his work. His girl was right, selling dope wasn’t the positive move. Sure it paid the bills, but the risks weren’t worth it. Yeah, Young Jeezy rapped about selling the snow, but that’s all he did. Tink would rather say “Welcome to Burger King” than bend over for a jackleg corrections officer to conduct a body cavity search. Just as he strolled under a busted streetlight he heard a car creeping up behind him. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder, expecting it to be the D’s. The sight registered quickly. A black car with its lights out and someone leaning out the window holding a pump. He bolted toward the grassy vacant lot to his right.

  “Shoot ’im! Shoot ’im! Shoot ’im!” Lamar shouted at Mance. Mance licked his dry lips, aimed, then eased back on the trigger. BOOM! The loud report from the pump rang in Mance’s ear as he watched his target stumble in the knee-high grass about twenty-five yards away. Mance aimed once more, then fired. BOOM! The target went down.

  “GET THE SHELLS! GET THE SHELLS!” Lamar shouted.

  “Huh?” Mance said, sliding back into his seat. Lamar shouted again for Mance to get the two shells that he had ejected from the pump. Luckily, he found them near the right rear tire. The second Mance was back inside, Lamar sped away with the lights off.

  Tanisha just happened to be running up the block to catch Tink because he had left his cell phone by mistake. If it had been any other hustler she would have sold it the first chance she had. But Tink was cool. She was about a hundred yards away and seconds from yelling out Tink’s name just as the black BMW rounded the corner. She saw it. She saw Tink take off running through the field and saw the muzzle flash twice from the loud pump. She didn’t yell or scream. She just picked up her pace as the BMW sped off. Out of nowhere someone ran into her, knocking her flat on her ass. She was able to see Bizzy’s face as he hauled ass in the opposite direction. It was obvious that he had done something wrong. Dismissing Bizzy, Tanisha rose to her feet and prayed that Tink was okay.

  Moments later Polo was pulling into Washington Terrace Projects bumping Boyz n da Hood’s “Dem Boyz.” Just as he pulled into a parking spot Trina came flying from her apartment. She was hysterical when she ran into Polo’s arms.

  “MY BABY DEAD! MY BABY DEAD!” she sobbed.

  Polo didn’t know what the fuck was up. At first he thought she meant her son.

  “Noooooo… Tink!”

  Polo calmed her down and tried his best to get some sensible info from her. Once he did, he led her to the passenger seat, then ran back to the driver’s side, got in and sped
off. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Not Tink, hell fuck no, not his family.

  Nikki knew the shit was about to hit the fan as Lamar pulled into his driveway. Desiree had refused to let her call Mance. In truth, Nikki wanted to see what Lamar would do. She wasn’t feeling how he had secretly taped the sex act. But more personally, she knew there was a tape of her also. She had been fucking Lamar on the low for over a year and a half. She would never forget the night Lamar aka Kaseem had blindfolded her in his bedroom. That shit made her mad but the look on Desiree’s face was… let’s just say that it wasn’t pretty.

  Lamar entered his den with Mance behind him. Lamar glanced at his Rolex as he walked toward Desiree. Eight-fifty-three p.m. He was about to apologize for the inconvenience and hug her but Desiree snapped and slapped the blackness out of him.

  “You grimy son of a bitch!” Desiree vented.

  Lamar rubbed his stinging left cheek as he told Mance and Nikki to excuse themselves. If he had looked at Nikki he would have seen her grinning. Lamar had no idea why Desiree was tripping, but he sure as hell planned to find the fuck out. When he was alone with her he again stepped toward her but she took a step back.

  “Don’t even think about touching me!”

  He froze, holding his hands. “Okay, let’s talk, Desiree. Explain to me why I’m getting disrespected in my own house?”

  “You got the audacity to even let the word ‘respect’ roll out of your mouth! You fucking bastard.”

  “What is this about, Desiree?” he said. “This can’t be because I’m late.”

  “Nigga, you taped me having sex with you!” she shouted.

  Lamar’s mouth fell open. Damn, he remembered leaving the disc in the projector.

  “How many other times have you done this, Lamar?!”

  He started to rub his temples again. This wasn’t a good night at all.

  “I asked you a damn question, Lamar!”

  “Baby, look, I…”

  “Don’t call me that! FUCK YOU!” she shouted. She picked up her jacket and purse. When she attempted to walk past him, he reached for her arm but she jerked away.