I fall in line behind her and follow her through the funeral’s prep room, past Sub-Zero freezers, out another door to the garage, and then finally to an adjoining office.
“Hold out your hands,” she orders.
“What? You’re going to pat me down?” I challenge.
“It’s part of my job.”
I start to argue but know that it won’t do any good. “Fine.” I hold out my arms.
She smiles and proceeds to give me a pat down—it was a little too thorough. “Was it as good for you?” I ask when she’s finished.
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
I shake my head and walk through the door.
“Mel, baby!” Fat Ace’s deep baritone booms as one milky eye and one brown eye lands on me. He stands from a desk stacked high with bricks of cocaine and money. “Good to see you.”
Fuck Python.
26
Yolanda
For the past half hour, I’ve been standing in front of my bathroom mirror, unable to pull my gaze from the bruises around my neck. They’re nasty-looking: black, blue, red, and even yellow. I’ve stopped touching them, and I’m trying my best not to take any deep breaths. The rest of my body feels like it’s going through trauma as well—my tits from Python’s biting, my legs from being pulled in every direction, and my ass from being busted wide open. Python is a fuckin’ beast…and all those damn snakes?
I shudder and then try to force that shit to the back of my mind. But it won’t stay back there. It keeps flashing to that panic attack I had when Python first looped that leather belt around my neck and the dozen or so times when I thought I was seconds from dying. But I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t acknowledge that there was some pleasure as well.
Still, is any of this shit worth it?
I lift my gaze to meet my stare in the mirror. Shit. I look like I’ve been run over by a Mack truck. Quickly, I rake my hands through my hair so it can lie flat, but just as quickly I give up. While I’m plotting and trying to make moves, clearly there’s another bitch in the picture who hasn’t been on my radar. But seeing how fast Python moved when she walked in on us means that heifer is somebody to Python. She wasn’t no jump-off, that’s for sure. But who is she—and does LeShelle even know about her?
My cell phone on the bathroom counter starts ringing, and I glance down to see Baby’s picture and number pop up on the screen. This bitch got a lot of nerve calling after I ain’t seen her ass since she left me stranded in the fuckin’ parking lot. I should let the shit go to voice mail, but my curiosity gets the best of me and I snatch the shit up.
“Yeah?”
“What the hell kind of way is that to answer the phone?” Baby asks.
“It’s my muthafuckin’ phone, ain’t it? I’ll answer it how I want to answer it. Now what the fuck do you want?”
“Damn, girl. What’s with you? You on the rag or something?”
“Oh, so you wanna play stupid. Is that it?”
There’s a brief pause while I listen to Baby draw in a deep breath.
“Yeah. That’s right. You were wrong and you know you were wrong. What the fuck were you doing wildin’ out at my job, busting bottles over that bitch’s head and shit and then leaving me to hoof it home?”
“Man, Yo-Yo, I was just…fuck it. I don’t know. It just wasn’t my fuckin’ night, I guess. My bad.”
“Your bad? That’s it?”
“Shit. What else you want me to say? I’m fuckin’ sorry. Damn.”
She’s putting bitches in hospitals and she’s just sorry? “Whatever.” We hold the phone for a few seconds, neither of us saying shit.
“Well, all right. I was just calling to see how you were doing and everythang. I hadn’t heard from you or nothing. I’m about to go out here and make this money.”
“Thank you for finally acting like you give a damn. Better late than never, right? I’m fine and I’m gonna always be fine—especially now that me and Python have hooked up.” I couldn’t help but let her ass know that everything was going according to plan. Still, I don’t know why I’m expecting her to congratulate me or something. That shit is not in Baby’s character.
“What the fuck you expect?” Baby chuckles. “I ain’t met a nigga yet who will turn down pussy, especially the ones always waving it in their faces.”
“Fuck you, Baby.”
“What?”
“Why can’t you just be fuckin’ happy for me? Shit. You know this was my plan from the giddy up.”
Baby’s laughter blasts my ear off. “I’m supposed to be happy that you’ve gone from hooker to ho? Is that what the fuck you’re saying? Sheeeiiit.”
“You know what, Baby? Fuck you and the pussy you came out of.” I disconnect the call and toss the phone back onto the counter. I’m tired of haters hating. I swear to God.
Momma starts hammering down the door. “Yolanda, how long you gonna be in there?”
Now here she goes. “I’m getting ready to take a bath.” I turn toward the bathtub and turn on the hot water.
“DON’T BE IN THERE ALL DAY!” she shouts over the running water, and then hits the door as a final exclamation point.
For real that bitch is on my nerve. I can’t wait to roll up out of here, collect my kids, and live ghetto fabulous for the rest of my life. I bet everybody be kissing my ass then. After sprinkling in some bath salts, I ease into the hot water, hissing and wincing at the stinging pain in my ass.
Is it worth it?
I can hear my momma stomping and bitching outside the door. Her unappreciative ass ain’t said shit since I’ve been able to break her off a little of what I’ve been making at the Pink Monkey. In fact, the more, I give her the more she needs. Greedy bitch. And on top of that, I get to hear about how I’m going to hell every time I turn around. Shit. The only damn place I’m going to is the muthafuckin’ bank. Money moves every fucking thing around Memphis. So the answer to my fuckin’ question is HELL, YEAH. I’m going to give it to Python just the way he wants it and I’m going to smile, moan, and act like I love the shit.
My cell phone on the counter starts ringing again. I know that it’s Baby, but she can just lick the crack of my ass. Bruises heal, pride can be swallowed, and money pays the bills. From now on, I’m just going to do me—all the way to the fuckin’ top.
27
Melanie
Fat Ace moves a bit slow and has a new scar jagging across his jaw. I haven’t seen him since the night before the shoot-out at the Med. For the most part, he looks good; then again, I’m not all that surprised. I’ve come to suspect that the man has nine lives.
“Profit, I’m gonna have to call you back,” he says, and disconnects his cell phone. “Well, don’t just stand there, Mel. Come show your nigga some love.” He smiles and opens his mountain-size arms.
I quickly rush into his embrace and relish how it feels being wrapped in a big warm blanket and how this big muthafucka always smells like fresh baby powder. “I’ve missed you. I’ve been soooo worried.”
“Ah. Now that’s what a nigga likes to hear.” He leans down and sweeps his tongue into my mouth. I moan even though he doesn’t taste as good as Python or even get my titties to tingle, mainly because Fat Ace has a habit of tasting like Hennessy and pistachios. Lord knows the nigga eats them by the pound. When we finally pull apart, I playfully swipe the residue of my coral lipstick from his lips and smile.
“I’ve been meaning to see you, but the streets are still on fire,” Fat Ace says. “But you’ve definitely been on my mind.”
“Now that’s what a girl likes to hear.” I keep my arms wrapped around his thick neck and try to work up the courage to do what I have to do. “How’s your chest?”
“It’s all good, Mel. You know you don’t have to worry about your boy. Those paper gangsters can’t find their own asshole while they shitting. You feel me?” He kisses the tip of my nose.
Behind me the door opens and Lucifer steps in.
“You know, Mel, I never t
hanked you for the heads-up when my brother was laid up in the hospital,” Fat Ace says.
Now I start easing out of his arms while a different kind of tingle skips down my spine. “It’s no thing. Once I realized who he was, of course I called.”
Fat Ace nods while his broad lips start to lose their smile. “Yeah. I appreciate that shit, especially since it’s possible that you’re the one who put that bullet in him.”
There’s an accusation and a question in that statement. All I can do is draw a deep breath and hold my head up. “It’s possible,” I say honestly. “He was at the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“There’s definitely an argument for that,” he says, turning away and folding his large frame back into his chair. “My only problem is figuring out how the Gangster Disciples knew that I was at that hospital.”
The office roars with silence as my gaze shifts from him to the bitch standing behind me.
“I mean, I couldn’t have been there more than…what?” He glances over to Lucifer.
“Fifteen minutes,” Lucifer answers, glaring dead at me.
“Exactly what are you asking me?” I challenge, settling my hands on my hips and turning my stare back toward Fat Ace. “You think I told them? Are you suggesting that I set you up?”
Fat Ace’s brows dip over his cataract eye. “I didn’t say that…but it’s an interesting question now that you’ve brought it up.”
“Are you for real?” My eyes shift back over to Lucifer, whose hands are now inching toward her waist. “I don’t fuckin’ believe this shit. I didn’t tell a soul that you were heading to that hospital. Why the fuck would I?”
Fat Ace shrugs. “You used to have a thing with Python.”
My heart drops. “Who told you that?”
His gaze now looks as hard as the bitch standing behind me. “Niggas talk.”
I have two seconds to defuse this shit or my baby is going to be an orphan. “That shit went down in high school. Ancient history.”
“Then how come you never told me about you two?”
“For the same reason. It’s ancient history.” I make sure to hold his gaze and pray that his vision is just a little cloudy and he doesn’t see that I’m lying my ass off.
“See there, Lucifer? I told you we didn’t have nothing to worry about with Mel.” His lips turn up into a smile again. “Now get over here and sit on Daddy’s lap.”
I don’t waste any time popping a squat on one of his powerful thighs and pressing another kiss against his warm mouth. “Are we cool now, baby?”
“We’re always cool, Mel.” He laughs and pinches me on the ass.
Lucifer makes her exit and relief rushes through me like a tidal wave.
“It’s all love. Heard about what happened to O’Malley. I’m sure you’re all busted up over it.” He eyes me as if waiting for some type of response. “You didn’t happen to cap that racist muthafucka yourself, did you?”
“What kind of fuckin’ question is that?”
“A serious one.”
I turn away from his milky cataract because I don’t think I can survive another round of his tight scrutiny. “Let’s just say I haven’t lost any sleep over his passing and leave it at that.”
Fat Ace laughs and tosses up his hands. “A’ight. I’m gonna leave it alone. Less I know about how you legal gangstas do your dirt the better, right?”
The smallest smile flickers at my lips but then vanishes. If he can put two and two together, then how many people down at the station have been looking at me sideways?
“Uh-huh.” Fat Ace snickers. “Like father like daughter.”
“Not funny.” I start to hop off his lap, but he easily holds me down.
“Aww, now. Did I hurt your little feelings? Don’t worry. I’m not going to throw shade over his perfectly crafted supercop title. My lips are sealed.” He leans in for another kiss and starts sliding his hand up under my shirt. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Am I on one of your people’s radar or have you finally come to your senses and want to come over to the dark side?”
“Very funny.”
“I wasn’t tryna be. This side of the fence pays better than that chump change the city tax dollars are paying y’all to dodge bullets. Believe that.” He meets my gaze. “Ask your pops.”
The tension thickens between us.
“Okay,” he finally says. “You’re not here for a pay raise. So what’s up?” He tilts up my chin so that my gaze stops wandering around the room. “So what’s so important that you had to rush over here in the middle of the day?”
“I wanted to…share some news with you.”
“I’m all ears,” he says, nibbling on my ears.
“Well, you know the night before you, um, got shot?”
His smile kicks up a few notches. “Of course I remember. I plan on us doing a few of those positions again as soon as these wounds heal all the way. I took five plugs, you know.” His hands slide down my backside so that he can give my ass a good squeeze.
“I’d like that,” I say, easing closer. “But there’s something I think you need to know.”
“All right.” He notes my serious expression and pulls back a bit to fold his arms. “This looks serious. What is it?”
My smile wobbles. If I’m going to do this, I need to just spit it out. Once I say the words, there’s no going back. “I’m pregnant.” The tension only thickens while the silence nearly deafens me. “Well?”
Slowly, Fat Ace’s wide, rubber-band lips stretch from ear to ear. “You’re shitting me.”
I shake my head while I try to evaluate if he really thinks the news is good or not, but like Python, it’s never easy reading him. “I’m gonna have a baby!”
At long last, Fat Ace’s face lights up like a Christmas tree and his big meaty arms wrap around my waist like a steel vise. “HELL YEAH!”
His voice nearly blows my eardrum out, and he starts to swing me around the office like a rag doll. I really hope I know what the fuck I’m doing.
28
Momma Peaches
Al Green is bumping on my old stereo. Not the new I-found-Jesus Al Green, but the old red-light-in-the-basement Al Green, who puts a smile on my face and has my hips rocking as I sweep off my front porch. “Oh, baby, love and happiness…”
“Aww. Sookie, sookie now.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Rufus leaning against the front chain-link fence, grinning at me like I’m giving him a personal lap dance. “Now what the fuck do you want?”
“Right now, I’m just satisfied to watch you back that ass up. Now let me see you drop it like it’s hot.” Cheesing, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out dollar bills. “C’mon, girl. Make this money.”
How can I not laugh at his stupid ass? “Get the fuck on with that.”
“There you go. Here I am tryna help you out and this is how you act?” He returns the money to his front pocket. “A’ight. That young nigga must be breaking you off something lovely.”
“In and out of bed,” I brag, rolling my neck.
Rufus shakes his head. “That shit ain’t right.” He glances off toward a cluster of niggas mobbin’ down Shotgun Row with clouds of smoke hanging over them.
“What ain’t right about it? That a woman has the audacity to do what y’all niggas do all day every day? I seen you rolling up on some of these young girls out here, most of them too young to know better, and you got the nerve to throw shade on my game. Nigga, puh-leeze.”
“Nah, nah. That was probably my niece you seen me with. I ain’t out here like that.”
This muthafucka damn near got my eyes rolling out the back of my head. Niggas and their double and triple standards.
“For real, Peaches. You know you’re the only one who got my heart. It’s time for you to stop breast-feeding these niggas in diapers and get in with the grown and sexy crowd.” He claps his hands and strikes a Herculean pose so I can check out his guns…and they weren’t too bad.
“Momma Peaches, you need to stop torturing that man,” Chantal shouts from her front porch. “I ain’t seen no nigga put in this much work for a woman in all my life.”
“Shit. I ain’t stuttin’ this old nigga.”
Rufus laughs. “I’m the same damn age you are.”
“Whatever.” At the sound of a souped-up motor, I glance up to see my nephew’s Monte Carlo cruising down the block. A smile eases onto my face as niggas start pointing and waving their hellos. My heart warms every time I see Python. The weight he be moving and the amount of dirt he’s buried in up to his neck, it’s just a miracle he ain’t locked down, let alone walking around breathing. However, when he pulls up to my curb in the middle of day, I know something must wrong.
My suspicions are confirmed when he rolls out of the car and I see his face. I know that face like I know my own. Clearly he’s got a lot of shit on his mind that he can’t work out on his own, and he needs his auntie.
Leave it to Chantal to point out the obvious. “Looks like you got company.”
Rufus eases off the fence and tips his head so that my nephew can enter the gate. “S’up, Python?”
“Everythang is still everythang.” Python looks Rufus over. “You still out here tryna holla at my aunt?”
“A real man never runs off the battlefield, NahwhatImean?”
Python snickers while he gives Rufus dabs. “Do you, nigga. Do you.”
That shit just makes Rufus’s lips stretch wider. “You see this, Peaches? This is like the Good Housekeeping seal of approval right here.”
By the time Python is bouncing up my stairs, he’s laughing his ass off. “How you doing, Momma?” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek.
“I was doing fine until you encouraged that fool with his nonsense. Now I’m never going to be able to get rid of his ass.” Turning, I set the broom aside and slap my hands onto my hips.
“That nigga has been out here tryna holla at you since I was like fifteen. The only way you going to get rid of a nigga like that is to break him off.”
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