Hustlin' Divas

by De'nesha Diamond

  “The hospital, I guess. They said the ambulance came and got him.”

  “Which one?”

  “Shit. I don’t know.”

  “Find out and then call me back. I’m going to finish getting dressed.”

  Essence laughs. “And just how in the fuck are you going to get there? We ain’t got a car, and the buses have already stopped running for the night.”

  I stop for a moment. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it. You just find out where he’s been taken and call me back.”

  “All right, girl.” Essence clucks her tongue. “I’ll call you back in a few.”

  I disconnect the call and rush to finish getting dressed. Seconds later, I shut off the lights again and then creep out of my bedroom. The hallway seems endless as I try to make my way down as quiet as possible. There’s no time to feel guilty about what I’m doing. My man needs me.

  Once I reach the stairs, each board in the floor is squeaking loud enough to wake the dead. I hold my breath until I reach the bottom of the stairs. When it seems like the coast is still clear, I race over to the black bombé chest in the foyer and retrieve Reggie’s car keys. Less than a minute later, I’m rolling in his new Lincoln MKS out the driveway with the headlights off. It isn’t until I get down the road to the first stop sign that I feel safe enough to turn the muthafuckas on.

  Impatient for word from Essence, I dig my cell phone out of my jean pocket and hit her back.

  “Yo, girl. I was just about to call you back,” Essence says after one ring.

  “What did you find out?”

  “The Med off Jefferson.”

  “Shit.” I glance up to see what street I’m on. “Do you know how to get there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m on my way to pick you up,” I say.

  “Pick me…in what, bitch?”

  “I’m driving Reggie’s car.”

  “What?” Essence erupts in stunned laughter. “You jacked your foster parents’ ride? Have you lost your damn mind?”

  “Nah. Nah. It’s cool. I just need to make sure that I’m back before Tracee wakes up at five.” A white car appears out of nowhere. I drop the phone and slam on my brakes. “Shit. Shit.” The back end of the car fishtails, and before I know it, I’m going sideways toward a curbside fire hydrant. My hands clench the steering wheel just before the back end of the car hits.

  “No. No. No.” I quickly jump out of the car and rush around to inspect the damage. My heart sinks at the sight of the busted taillight, but I’ll have to think of a lie at another time. I have to get going. Once back in the car, I rummage around until I find my cell phone on the floorboard. “E? Give me ten minutes and be outside.” I end the call and drive the car off the curb and back onto the street. From then on, I keep my eyes wide and my foot a little lighter on the accelerator.

  True to my word, I make it to E’s grandmother’s place, just a block from Shotgun Row, in ten minutes. I sigh in relief when I see Essence standing outside, because the last thing I want to do is stop or get out of the luxury sedan on this side of town and at this time of night.

  Essence jumps into the car, laughing. “Damn, girl. What the hell happened to the taillight?”

  “You don’t wanna fuckin’ know.”

  “Shit. Are you sure you can drive this big muthafucka? I ain’t survived this damn neighborhood just so your no-licensed ass can kill me in a fuckin’ car wreck.”

  “Don’t you start that backseat driving. Just tell me how to get to the damn hospital.”

  “Whatever. Just go up to the light and hang a right.”

  I take off down the street with my heart still racing and my palms sweating. “Did you hear any more news? What else are people saying?”

  “Ah, girl. A bunch of bullshit now,” Essence says, opening the glove compartment and checking shit out. “Niggas are now making shit sound like Profit went at the po-po with artillery of shit. Took out one cop and went at it with this one big, racist muthafucka who was still pounding on his ass even when the paramedics were tryna resuscitate him and load him in the ambulance.”

  “What?” I rake a hand through my hair. “They saying he almost died?”

  Essence clams up as if she’s suddenly afraid to tell me more.

  “Well? Spit it out!” I pull my gaze from the road to look at my girl. The suspense is killing me. God help me. I don’t know what I’m going to do if anything happens to Profit. He means everything to me.

  Essence stops nosing around in the glove compartment and turns in her seat to face me. “Look, I hate that I gotta be the one telling you all this, but the bottom line is I just don’t know what really happened and neither does any of them gossiping niggas. So just take a deep breath and calm down.” To get me started, she starts sucking in air and rolling her hands to encourage me to do the same thing.

  I roll my eyes only to get punched in the shoulder. “Oww.”

  “Take a deep breath,” Essence insists.

  Scared of getting punched again, I do as I’m told. Then from the corner of my eye, I see a patrol car. “Turn around and put on your seat belt.”

  Having her own inner cop scanner, Essence is already ahead of me and is locking the belt across her waist. “Be cool. Be cool. Be cool,” Essence recites under her breath as the car rolls to a stop right next to a Memphis patrol car at a light.

  I lick my lips while my sweaty hands clench the steering wheel. I just hope the cops don’t look our way, because I don’t fit the description of someone who could possibly own this luxury sedan, and my learner’s permit requires that I drive with an adult. While the light is taking forever to change, I chance a look to my right. My heart stops short when my eyes crash with a female officer’s.

  I’m going to jail. I’m going to jail. I’m going to jail.

  I swallow the lump in my throat and resolve that if the blue track lights come on, I’m jamming my foot down on the accelerator and making a run for it. I’m not going anywhere until I see for myself that Profit is okay.

  The traffic light turns green. The police car moves forward and hangs a left.

  “Whooo, giiirl,” Essence sighs. “That shit was close. I just knew our asses were about to be like those white bitches Thelma and something.”

  “Thelma and Louise,” I say, finally easing off the brake.

  “Yeah, them,” Essence cosigns. “I even got my gat ready.”

  I glance over in shock. “What the fuck? You got a gun? Since when did you start toting that shit?”

  “Since the last time Qiana and those Flower bitches tried to roll up on me in the girl’s bathroom at school. Bitch got me confused if she thinks she’s going to catch my ass slippin’.”

  Shaking my head, I clamp my mouth shut.

  “What? You wanna lecture me now?”

  “Just tell me which way to the hospital.”

  “Take a right up here on Adams.” Essence glances back over at me. “I don’t think it’s right for you to judge me. Not everybody got it as good as you do. These muthafuckin’ streets out here ain’t no joke. A bitch gotta do what she fuckin’ gotta do.”

  “I ain’t said nothing.”

  “But you want to. I can tell.”

  I spot the hospital up ahead and breathe a sigh of relief.

  Essence shakes her head, but she squashes the argument since I’m not going to indulge her. We quickly park the car and race toward the emergency room entrance. The muthafucka is packed. Old, young, crying babies—everybody. What’s worse, it looks like they’ve been here for a long time.

  “Aww, shit. I hope our asses ain’t going to be here all night,” Essence complains, looking around.

  “Shut up and come on.” I weave my way up to the reception desk. “I’m looking for Raymond Lewis. I believe he was brought here. I’m his girlfriend.”

  The woman behind the counter definitely has molasses up her ass and is clearly in no rush to get off the phone or address my concerns.

  Essence hip bum
ps me out the way and starts banging her hand on the counter. “HELLO!” Bam! Bam! Bam! “Get the fuck off the phone and help my girl out. Damn.”

  The receptionist levels a dirty look at Essence. “Keisha, let me call you back. I got a couple of hood rats in my face.”

  “WHAT?” Essence is heated and reaches toward her pocket.

  I panic and grab my girl’s wrist and give her a look to be cool. “Please forgive my friend. I’m just looking for Raymond Lewis. I was told that he was shot tonight.”

  “Aren’t they all?” The woman turns toward her computer and finally searches for the information we need.

  A few minutes later, we’re racing toward Profit’s room in the intensive care unit. But seeing a large group of niggas flagging Vice Lord colors outside his door, Essence slows down. “T, I don’t know about this,” she hisses.

  I’m not listening. My brain refuses to process that we’re actually running toward danger.

  “T!” Essence tries again, but at seeing me continuing on, she follows through to have my back. “I swear to God, if we live through this, I’m going to fuckin’ kill you myself,” she whispers when she catches back up with me.

  “Just chill out.”

  There are at least twenty people outside the door, and every one of them is now looking at us.

  “Who the fuck are you two?” one burned-toast-looking muthafucka asks, twisting his face and mean mugging us.

  “I-I’m Ta’Shara. I came to see Profit.”

  The young Vice Lord rakes his gaze over us. “Profit isn’t exactly up for visitors at this time.”

  “Okay. Sorry to bother y’all.” Essence grabs my arm and attempts to pull me away.

  I snatch my arm back and refuse to budge. “He’ll want to see me. I’m his girlfriend.”

  The small group starts chuckling.

  “I ain’t heard nothing about Profit having no girlfriend. If you ask me, you two look like a couple of chickens he’s probably just fuckin’ around with.”

  “How would you know? You look like the last time you seen pussy was when you were coming out of one,” I snap back.

  “Oh shit,” E moans.

  “Now get out of my way so I can see my man.” I hold my ground and stare the asshole down.

  “Aww. That young nigga got himself a feisty bitch,” another nigga with thick dreads and a mouthful of gold laughs and cheeses.

  “Who the fuck you calling a bitch?” Essence and I snap in unison.

  “All right. All right. Simmer down.” A woman I hadn’t noticed until now steps forward. She’s dressed like the other niggas, but she doesn’t look like a dyke or nothing. She is actually very pretty, yet still looks like a bitch you don’t want to fuck with.

  “You say you’re Profit’s woman. Fine. We mean no disrespect. Go on in,” she says, stepping out of the way to let us through.

  Essence looks like she can’t believe what we’d just done.

  I’m already over it. I’m focused on only one thing, or rather one person. The moment I push through the door, Profit’s head snaps up from his cell phone and a look of surprise lights up his face. “Shara. I was just about to call you.”

  Relieved, I fly into the room as my tears flow. I even ignore the man sitting in a chair on the other side of the bed. “I was soooo worried about you.” I try to wrap my arms around him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  “Easy on the shoulder, baby.” He chuckles.

  “Oh.” I glance down and gently touch his bandages. “Boo, what happened?”

  “Just another day in the hood, Ma. You know how it is.” Profit smiles tenderly while tears continue to skip down my face. “You really love a nigga, don’t you?”

  “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” I sit down on the edge of the bed and cup his face in my hands. “I love you more than life itself, baby. Now and forever.” I lean in close and pour my heart and soul into a kiss that sends my mind reeling.

  When at long last our deep kiss is reduced to small, nibbling pecks, Profit smiles again. “You know sometimes a nigga just needs to hear the words.”

  Gently, I lean closer and whisper in his ear, “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  He laughs. “I love you, too, boo.”

  From the other side of the bed, a man clears his throat.

  I pull back, but then suck in a stunned breath when my gaze crashes into Fat Ace.

  12

  LeShelle

  Python’s forked tongue drums against the head of my pink pearl like it’s playing the congas. Indescribable pleasure unfurls from the center of my clit and radiates outward until I tremble and shake like I’m experiencing an internal earthquake. Nobody gives head like this nigga. Hands down that fucking tongue is a monster, dipping and sliding in my pussy until I’m fucking spelling his name backward. “N-O-H-T-Y-P.”

  Python groans and then reaches down and spreads my ass cheeks wide. The man is a fiend when it came to ass, and he knows as long as he hooks me up right on eating my pussy, I’ll take him busting my little asshole open like a muthafuckin’ soldier.

  “Sssss,” he hisses, sounding like Beauty and Beast, the two pet black ball Pythons slithering around the bed with us. In fact, just as Python is gliding his thick, sausage-sized finger in through my back door, Beast coils around my right thigh and then stretches across the downy V of my open pussy. Beauty is doing her own thing, gliding in perfect figure eights up and around my full C cups. The scaly feel of the snakes’ skin against mine is erotic as hell. Pressure building, my hands clench the red satin sheets while my mind spins like a pinwheel.

  Whenever Python puts it on me like this, I feel like nothing and no one can ever come between us. I would lie for this nigga, kill for this nigga, and even die for this nigga. There isn’t a day that rolls by that I don’t let him know that shit either. All I have to do is keep playing my position, and soon I’ll go from wifey to wife.

  “Awww…. shit!” That wicked tongue slaps my clit justright, and I scream in total abandonment. Python stays put, gulping down my thick, creamy candy until it coats every inch of his throat.

  “That’s some good shit, Ma,” he praises, lifting his ugly head and smiling, his face twisted and scarred. Fucking him is like fucking the devil himself: dangerous, wicked, and powerful.

  I rock my hips, anxious for his fat dick to split my ass in half. “That’s not all that’s good, Daddy,” I flirt, moving Beauty from my breasts and sitting up. “Let me get you ready.” I reach for his pound of meat and stroke it to life.

  “Ssssss,” Python hisses, and then flicks his tongue at me. “You hungry, baby?”

  “Always.” I roll my tongue across his thick lips.

  “Then c’mon. Let me feed you.” He eases onto his back and folds his hands behind his head as he waits for me to sink my hot mouth over his straining cock. “Ssssss. That’s it, baby. Show me how much you love me.”

  I have no problem doing just that. I slurp, spit, and vacuum his gooey nut up from his balls and then pop my cherry-red lips off the fat head of his cock in time to watch my dessert gush and splatter everywhere.

  “Sssss. Damn, baby. Clean that shit up and give me a little taste.” He grabs his dick and smacks my face with it.

  I bend my head and use my tongue like a baby wipe, licking him clean and polishing him up before easing toward his twisted lips and sharing his salty tang with a deep kiss. He loves that nasty shit, plunging and swishing his tongue inside my mouth for any remaining residue of himself.

  “Ssssss.” He grabs my fat ass. “You know what time it is, baby?”

  “Mmmm. You want some of this hot ass, Daddy?” I press a kiss against his scarred cheekbone and then nibble on his ear. “I betcha got some more sweet candy in that fat dick for me, don’t you?”

  “You know it.”

  He cruelly pinches my nipples and I moan. Hell, this shit is nothing compared to the bullshit I grew up with. Plus, there’s a small part of me that’s beginning to
like the pain, if not love it. My growing pleasure from pain surprises me. It’s becoming like an addictive drug. The adrenaline rush is insane.

  “Wait. Wait.” He sits up and reaches over to the black lacquered nightstand and pulls out a plastic bag.

  My heart skips a beat.

  “All right, baby. Climb up on Daddy.”

  I smile, knowing better than to protest or complain. “You got it, baby.”

  Straddling his hips in the backward cowgirl position, I open my cheeks wide so he can watch the show and cram every inch of his fat dick into my tight ass. My inner muscle clenches around him like an iron fist.

  “Sssss. Twerk that shit, Ma.”

  “You got it, Daddy.” I go straight to work, bouncing, grinding, and then bouncing some more. Python hisses and curls his toes as a tactic to delay busting his nut too soon. I don’t know what it is about ass that sends this nigga straight to the moon, but as long as he wants it, I’m going to toss it up and make sure that he gets plenty of it.

  Beauty and Beast slither up and coil around my waist as if they can’t stand to be left out of the action. Ten minutes later, I’m still at it, my body slick with sweat and one snake now around my neck and other one sliding its way toward its daddy. Everybody is hissing in this muthafucka.

  Without warning, Python flips me over so I’m on all fours. Pain sparks from my wounded shoulder and causes my arms to collapse, but before I can utter a sound, he jams a plastic bag over my head, cutting off my oxygen. He twists the bag around his fist so tight, my eyes bulge in shock.

  Wait. I wasn’t ready! Panic settles in before I can get my mind right. I try to suck in air but only manage to draw in a mouthful of plastic. My fingers claw at my neck.

  “Sssss, baby. This shit is locking up tight,” Python praises as he rams his fat, ten-inch cock into my ass like a jackhammer. “Ssssss.”

  Hold your breath. Try not to breathe. The small voice in my head grows harder to hear. My world is collapsing while a rainbow of colors splash before my eyes. But…my body tingles—deliciously so. Every pore is having mini orgasms. I hear blood rush through my head, and I begin to rise outside my own body.