“Fa’sho, ma. I’m all in that tonight. Let me feel that right quick.” He leaned over, placing his hand between Star’s thick thighs. Seldom getting close to a fat camel toe willing to cream for him, if Banko weren’t going crazy about him getting home with his cash and car, he’d finish Star off in the back seat bent over. “I’ma beat this pussy up.”
Rubbing his hands across the fat imprint they both wanted him to have, Star grinded back. Money made her cum and he’d handed her enough to squirt as far as her little mind was concerned. “Don’t be on no bullshit like last night.” She twisted her ghetto princess lips.
“I got you. Please believe I’m planning to tap that fatty out.” Starting the car up, feeling it putter and slightly hesitate, he hurriedly backed the borrowed whip over broken glass and trash carelessly pulling into traffic. Running out of gas then being embarrassed or called out wasn’t an option. Had he not been cruising, doing more than just the planned pickup and return home, he wouldn’t be in the predicament to be exposed for the broke bum he actually was. But once again his desperation for flash had fucked him.
Ignoring traffic and pedestrians, Rello broke every traffic law as he sped and coasted up the side streets to drop Star off. There were no good-byes, thankfully for him, as she hopped out the gas-guzzling car. Honking as he flew up the street, she didn’t even turn to wave being that she was too busy gleefully flashing the stack of cash to her girl.
“Sissy, I’m hungry.” Savannah, Star’s littler sister, poked her small head out the front door.
“Then go knock on your momma’s bedroom door and tell her,” Star snapped, knowing their mother probably put Savannah up to asking anyway. I won’t be spending this cash on her brats today. Knowing the food stamp card had just been loaded, she knew Bonnie could stock the fridge with fresh groceries so she shooed Savannah into the house.
Savannah balled her face up like she wanted to cry then disappeared back into the house. At only eight, she didn’t understand why or what it meant to go back and forth between her mother and sister. The only thing she did adapt to was getting yelled at. Joining their baby sister Samantha on the couch, they both sipped from a big cup of water and waited for someone to feed their grumbling stomachs.
Rello, now far removed and unconcerned about Star, replaced the gas nozzle from putting one of his last five dollars into the Challenger then picked up his government-issued Obama phone dialing Banko back. Without clearly coming up with a well thought-out lie, he tried spinning him with a diversion to keep clear from his uncle’s warpath.
“Where you been at, li’l nigga?” Banko shouted into his Android phone. With sweat dripping from his nose, he’d been pacing the living room floor seething to attack since confirming with his main runner Rello picked the cash up. His nephew hadn’t been answering his calls, making him worry he’d been flicked by the cops and folded under pressure.
“I’m on way, Unc. I had to jump stupid on your house boys for coming up short on your package,” he lied, as every cent was accurate and had been accounted for.
Banko went from worry to rage, being straightforwardly lied to by the young nigga he kept so close to his fortune. “Oh straight up, killa? I’m on any nigga out here fucking my dough up.” He drove his point in with hostility and emotion. He hated being lied to, especially by one in his bloodline. Banko took respect, loyalty, and love for his family seriously. Therefore, he’d been allowing Rello many privileges that other cats associated to him weren’t privy to. Rello, however, was starting to take what wasn’t being handed out. Yeah, my good acts of faith for his mother are starting to run out.
“You’ve gotta let me in on it, Unc. I could be cranking and keeping them jokers in line.” Rello started his traditional begging spree.
Rubbing his thick black goatee, Banko felt his blood pressure rising. He hated entertaining the young pipe dreams of his sister’s son; and as of late they’d been coming up more often. There was no way he could trust him on no real power moves when he was coming up missing on nickel and dime runs. He hung with true blood killers and hustlers, Rello didn’t have the same gangster DNA that ran through Banko. “Ay, li’l nigga, just pull back up in my ride. I’m trying to secure my paper.” Banko felt his blood pressure rising.
“Okay, I get it. You ain’t gotta go all street on me, fam. I’m on the way.”
As the flashy car sputtered with little gas up 94 West toward his home front, Rello thought of ways to impress Banko so he could continue flossing for Star. He imagined her warm mouth and big lips wrapping around his still stiff manhood. Pulling his semi-hard member out and jacking it a few times, Rello couldn’t wait to get home to satisfy his nut. The performance she’d given him had his mind spent. Yeah, that girl is a star for real. Her moms named her right. I’ve gotta find a way to dip off into that tonight.
Chapter 2
“Give me some money to buy your greedy sisters some food,” Star’s mom Bonnie yapped, barging into her daughter’s cramped bedroom to beg as usual. Not caring about the flimsy door being closed, which was a clear indication that Star wanted privacy, Bonnie stayed focused on herself and the petty plot she was about to run down on her oldest girl. “I’ll pay you back when the caseworker turns my cash assistance back on,” she lied through her teeth.
Star was tired of her mother’s normal routine so she didn’t reply with remorse. “Ain’t nobody tell you to keep bare backing for babies. Besides, what happened to the food stamps on your bridge card? The government paying enough for ya kids to eat so I don’t have to step in, don’t you think?”
Bonnie was itching to smack the stale dick smell out of Star’s mouth for talking recklessly. However, knowing she needed to feed Savannah and Samantha, she swallowed her pride but not without a tight jaw. “Ain’t nothing wrong with helping your mother out.”
When Star sensed her mother backing down, she went in for the jugular. “Damn, Ma, but for real, every month you fuck up the stamps, the cash, and even the free boxes of food they send up in here from the neighborhood church. You need to find a way to do better; and unfortunately that don’t mean running me dry.” Star showed no signs of backing down. With the platform to speak, she wanted to break Bonnie down or at least shake her off her back. Them kids ain’t mine and I ain’t about to be playing Mommy either. Shit, where’s my birth control at anyway?
“Oh so ’cause you’re grown now you can question and curse at me? Don’t forget who brought who into this world.” She stared down on her now nineteen-year-old daughter. Bonnie looked at Star and saw an exact replica of what she used to be. “I’ll lay your ass up and out.” Interlocking her fingers, cracking her knuckles, Bonnie let it be known she wasn’t to be taken lightly. Once representing a cold, fierce, “out to get it” bitch, Bonnie was a beast in her heyday.
“Dang, Ma, why it gotta be like that?” Once ignoring her mother, Star now stood at attention and dared to turn her back. She’d seen Bonnie tag another pill popper in the middle of the street once before, not to mention the countless WrestleMania pay-per-views that went down between her and old dude; so Star knew Bonnie would fight tooth and nail to prove a point.
“Because I ain’t ask for your smart mouth comments, that’s why. What I asked for was a few of those dollars you tricked for earlier. Your sisters saw you leaving with some boy so cough it up, LaStar.”
“Don’t come up in here for my Lucky Charms, Ma. Them kids will be all right; and if not, that ain’t on me. I’m telling you the same thing I told Savannah earlier.” Star ignored her mother’s quest to hand over her motherly responsibilities. “You are their momma. And for the record, you only trick for you so I only trick for me. Please close my door on the way out.” She might’ve sprouted from Bonnie’s tree, but Star had little respect for her mother, a once diva wasted on a nigga with no money, ambition, or potential. Now she insulted her whenever the opportunity presented itself.
“I don’t know how you got to be so stingy and evil. You’re such a little bitch.” Her m
om stared coldly at her first born. Star was a miniature version of the beauty queen she once was with a devilish personality to match. Bonnie knew exactly where the menacing attitude came from, being the one responsible for training Star up in the first place.
“Please, you’re killing my vibe with all that, Ma. If I give you a twenty or two, you’ll run in there and give it to his dusty ass before I blink.” She casually pointed toward the front room where her stepfather lazily sat with his hands deep in his pants. Star’s passionate hate for Jerome wasn’t a secret. She adamantly spit venom each time his name came up.
“Shh! Keep your mouth down,” Bonnie hissed, clasping her own mouth while simultaneously shaking and begging for her daughter to do the exact same. Having gotten her ass handed to her on several occasions on account of her kids, Bonnie tried to spare her babies and keep them out of Jerome’s way. Star locked eyes with her mother in pity, pissed that she’d once again chosen a man over their relationship and the bond she should’ve been building with Savannah or Samantha.
“I’ll take your children to McDonald’s for a value meal, Ma, but I ain’t putting no cash in your hand for their father to pimp you out of.” Star couldn’t hold the stare down as she watched mother’s eyes brighten.
Bonnie was elated and could barely wait to tell her trifling boyfriend he could sell the remainder of her food stamps. Only fulfilling a few snacks for their late-night munchies, the kids she’d birthed high as a kite weren’t accommodated when it came to nutrition once again.
“Thanks, baby, you’re the best sister those two girls could have.”
Star watched her mother anxiously run out the room, not to get her half sisters ready for the walk or free meal, but to present leverage for her sisters’ dirt ball dad to stay. I’ll never let a nigga have me that dumb and tripping. She got me up here feeding these damn kids she made a priority to have for that sludge rock of a man; and he ain’t raised a finger but to ram in her saggy coochie. It can’t get more pathetic than that. Turning her nose up at the thought of her stepfather and the dysfunctional family they were all supposed to be, Star couldn’t wait to get enough money to move on her own. And despite her not wanting the responsibilities of being a parent, she knew leaving her siblings wasn’t an option. LaStar was the only hope Samantha and Savannah had.
After putting a chair underneath her doorknob to stop Bonnie if she tried barging in again, Star resumed rummaging throughout her drawers trying to find the perfect outfit to mask the rolls hanging over her jeans so she could meet back up with Tanisha on the porch. Unfortunately, starving herself to death couldn’t remove the lodged double cheeseburger meals she’d strictly dieted on for months. I swear I need to start an exercise program ASAP.
Instead of dwelling over what to wear, she picked up the phone to dial Rello’s cell with high hopes he’d answer. She instantly felt déjà vu from last night when the generic voicemail greeting answered her call instead of his raspy voice. Huffing and puffing, she slammed her phone down onto the bed in aggravation. This nigga bullshitting. I’m trying to get laid and paid while doing so. Star felt he could be the money train out the run-down house she called home. It had been nothing but a migraine headache for her watching Bonnie live in a pity party by housing a no-good worthless nigga and ultimately ruining her innocent life.
“Come on, you two brats, let’s go,” Star yelled out to her sisters, moving the chair from underneath the door so they could go.
Bonnie watched her three daughters walk out of her shabby house and into the world where she secretly wished they’d stay. All they represented to her was lingering responsibility. Only spreading her legs to keep their daddies, she never had the nurturing gene women turned on after entering motherhood. The same gritty chick she was before giving birth, was the same gritty chick she was after being a mom for over nineteen years.
“Here, nigga, it’s only ninety dollars left. See if you can sell them dollar for dollar. They cut my case down to a hundred dollars for me not letting her sneaky ass in last week for the annual visit,” Bonnie lied, having sold the other $150 for her own gain. Handing her latest two kids’ father the state-issued orange Michigan welfare card, she stood with no shame, not knowing how her daughters would eat come morning or for the rest of the month. With bare cabinets and a refrigerator of spoiled uncooked food, Bonnie was an example of the type of neglectful parent child welfare services made surprise visit days for. Her offspring didn’t stand a chance.
Jerome stood looking sloppy in his worn navy blue pajama pants and stained gray T-shirt with his hand held out for the card. “Shit, woman, you’ve got to be joking. Even if I was successful in hustling some old bitty grandma out of her cash, we can only cop enough nose candy and liquor to wash it down with for a few days, if that. What are we supposed to do until then?” Jerome was never a strong companion or provider to Bonnie. Since after the first night of her bringing him home, he’d only been capable of mooching off the government assistance she received along with guzzling twelve packs daily of Milwaukee’s Best beer whenever he could. Not only did he abuse drugs, but he abused women as well.
“Shit, I was thinking you could figure that part out. It ain’t nothing else I can do since I’m bleeding and all.” Bonnie was elated inside that she didn’t have to sell her high miles pussy once again to get them through another month. While most women hated for their monthly cycles to come, Bonnie cherished the days because Jerome wasn’t roughing her up to work.
Taking a seat on the duct taped leather couch, her stomach growled from having not eaten either. She was hopeful that Star would get her babies meals to go so she could take one for herself and make them split the other. The money she’d gotten from selling her stamps secretly was used to get high and pay back a few debts to the streets. Jerome might not have cared that young bosses who slung dope was on their heads, but she did.
“Well I ain’t got nothing. So who you calling for some head?” Jerome stood over Bonnie boldly daring her to refuse the warm mouth he’d come in several times a week. With prison chiseled muscles and an itching fist, he patiently waited on her response. Ready to light her face on fire if she gave the wrong one, it would be his regular daily workout, one he looked forward to anyway.
“Why can’t you just sell the stamps first and we’ll talk about that later.” Bonnie still tested his thirst to control and degrade her. Taking a sip of the beer they were sharing, Jerome smacked it out of her hand onto the floor, spilling their last, ultimately pissing himself off in the process. “Oh shit, why you do that for? Now what?” Jumping up to wipe up what she desperately wanted to lick up, Jerome used his foot to kick and keep her down, placing his bare foot across her neck. Frantic and panicking, Bonnie struggled to breathe with his weight on top of her tiny, frail neck.
“See how your neck really ain’t shit to me unless you’ve got it bobbing and weaving for this family?” Jerome’s words were viciously spat. He enjoyed watching her whimper and begging for him to stop.
Even though she knew her weakness gassed his ego, a blackout was coming and she didn’t want her girls to walk in on her limp body. Last time he knocked her out cold from a beat down, she was out for hours and probably left to die.
“Now get up and get your shit together. I’m about to go sell these stamps. Your mission is to bring this family home enough to sustain us through the month.” When Jerome mentioned family, his greedy bum ass really meant just him. Having no shame for her, just wanting the money her deep throat had a reputation for making, Jerome was callous and heartless.
Bonnie grabbed her neck in agony when Jerome lifted his stale-smelling feet. She gagged for air, thankful he’d left the room. Disgusted with her choice of men and poor decisions in life period, she grabbed her now turned off Sprint phone searching through the contacts for a dude who’d enjoy some head. Having burned through them many times before, she doubted they’d pay more than a few bucks for the normalcy. Now checking for the females she once called friends, Bonnie would be
down for anything: girl on girl, or even threesomes to meet Jerome’s quota. She had to be down for whatever to keep her partner around.
“Look, Momma! Star got us some toys and let us pick what kind of Happy Meals we wanted.” Savannah, her middle daughter, burst through the door with a huge grin flashing her toy in front of her mother’s face. Bonnie was the only mother she knew so had no option but to love.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, that’s nice.” Bonnie pushed the meaningless toy from her face, opening the bag to snag a few fries. “Where’s your sister?” Throwing them down her dry throat, finally having the taste of food made her hungrier.
“Her out front eating with Star.” Not knowing her mom couldn’t care less about her baby child, only being six herself, Savannah stood nibbling on a half-eaten nugget.
“Did you eat some fries on the way home?” Bonnie questioned Savannah with evil intent in her pill-popping prostitute eyes.
“Yes.” Struggling with the plastic wrapper of the Happy Meal toy, like all children her age, was her main focus and goal.
“Oh, well then after you eat that nugget, you’ve had enough.” Snatching the bag of food along with the toy, Bonnie tore the My Little Pony open, giving it back, and shooed her daughter to her bedroom. Rushing into the kitchen shoving more than a mouthful of nuggets into her starving mouth, Bonnie didn’t regret swiping the food from the child she was responsible to feed. Nor was she concerned with the nightly belly aches Savannah and Samantha suffered from only eating junk food and outdated food from pantries. Gobbling the remainder of the McDonald’s, leaving not one burnt fry tip or nugget crust, she tossed the bag into the trash.
“So you about to be on the ho stroll?” Jerome appeared from the bedroom, now in gym shoes ready to go.
Girls From Da Hood 10 Page 28
