She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 3

by Shvonne Latrice

  Fuck this shit. I was tired of running behind Shanece. She for sure wouldn’t have to worry about me hounding her ass no more. I was a producer on the up and up and would have women begging me to fuck them soon; shit, halfway already did. So what I look like chasing a female? A damn fool is what. Fuck her and Amara.

  I was done with it.

  Rubie Bailey

  I put my plate of breakfast down onto the table, before pulling out the chair to sit down. After praying, I began to scarf it down. I was starving, but it felt good to actually have food in the house. I hadn’t realized how much money I was saving on groceries with Armonn being gone. I guess my dad was right.

  Now that I didn’t have a grown ass man eating half the damn fridge for lunch alone, the hundreds I spent on food lasted longer than needed.

  While I enjoyed my tea, thinking about how my life had shattered to smithereens, my phone began ringing. I saw it was Eitan and contemplated not answering. I didn’t know what he wanted to say, but if it was to ask for his gifts back, I’d already told him what to do.

  Initially, I was broken, wondering how I was going to convince him that what he saw me doing with Armonn was innocent. But when he dropped that diss track and had all of Los Angeles, plus his friends in my comments, calling me all types of names and dragging me, I was done. If he were a real man, he wouldn’t have done that. And if he cared about me even a little bit, he wouldn’t have done that.

  I got that he was angry, I understood. But the least he could’ve done was hit me up to get more information before telling the world I was a gold-digging hoe yet contrarily loved broke niggas.

  “Yes?” I picked up. I had a little bit of anger still flowing through me, and I also wanted to make up for crying on the phone with him last time.

  I felt so weak for that shit, so I wanted to show his ass I was over it, even though I wasn’t. Even now, my social media comments were turned off just in case.

  “Hey, so umm, I got the day off. Well, actually, I had to rehearse for my show, but the venue had some issues, so it got cancelled. I was thinking we could go to lunch.”

  Was this a joke? Why the hell was he talking to me like nothing had gone down between us?

  “Please tell me you have the wrong number.” I sat back, folding my free arm across my body.

  “What? Nah. Rubie, I know we both did some fucked up shit but—”

  “We? What the hell did I do?”

  “You went to lunch with yo’ ex nigga, even though you told me the shit was already done with!”

  “I hadn’t done it, because he’d gone to New York to do some reality show and wasn’t answering my texts or calls. Then when he got here, I met up with him to do what I had to do!”

  “Whatever. I think we can call it a truce.”

  “A truce? You humiliated me.”

  “I said I was sorry. I was upset.”

  “You said you were sorry in private. Post to the public that you’re sorry, and maybe I will think about entertaining you.”

  “Rub—”

  I hit that red end button so I could finish my breakfast and then get to work.

  It took me a minute to get there because of all the damn traffic, but once I did, I hurried to Mark’s office to see what he had in mind for me. By the grace of God, he wasn’t in there, so I pranced to the small break room to make a latte on his fancy espresso machine, before going to my office.

  I wasn’t in there for twenty minutes before I heard a knock on my door.

  “Come in!” I shouted, trying to look busy since I knew it was Mark’s ass. “Oh, Angel, hey. Mark isn’t here yet. You can wait, but I don’t know when he’ll arrive.” I smiled as she closed the door and came to sit down.

  “Thanks, but I actually came to talk to you.”

  “Oh, okay, what’s up?” I ransacked my brain to try to beat her to the punch, but nothing came up.

  “Yeah so, what’s up with my record deal you promised?”

  “I—” I admit she had caught me off guard. I’d been so wrapped up with my own life that I’d completely forgotten about her. “Sorry, I forgot for a minute. Umm,” I pretended to look through my papers until I thought of something, “I spoke to Tony Wacko, and he said he’s still thinking.”

  “Thinking about what? I came to the studio like he asked, recorded with some depressed ass nigga named Rahim and his fat friend Abel, then they told me I’d get a call.”

  “Maybe you didn’t do so well.”

  “Honey, please. Even you know that’s impossible for me. I sing perfectly. Now why don’t you call him or his girl, since y’all are so close, and see what’s up.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was getting smart with me, or if she was just asking me for my help.

  “Okay. Angel, you know I am not your manager or anything… that’s Mark. I only offered you the bridge to an opportunity. Whether it pans out or not is completely up to Tony Wacko.”

  “Please just call.”

  Sighing, I grabbed my iPhone and went into my favorites to hit up Camarih. She answered on the second ring, thankfully.

  “Hi, did I bother you?” I asked.

  “No. I’m on bed rest, so I’m just doing some computer work.” She huffed.

  “Aww, well I am sure that will be over soon.” I smiled, thinking about her unborn baby. Angel and I locked eyes, which reminded me of why I’d called.

  “I hope so.”

  “So hey, remember the girl that I talked to you about, Angel?”

  “Yeah, of course. Why?”

  “She is just kind of wondering if you had any insight on what Tony plans to do with her. She recorded a demo for him with Rahim and Tony’s engineer, but it’s been silent since then.”

  “Oh no, I don’t know. Tony is usually pretty prompt and on it, so if he hasn’t called her, then I guess he doesn’t want to sign her.”

  “Oh.” I let my brows dip as I stared down at my desk. “Are you sure? I mean, you heard her sing.”

  “Yeah, and she’s great. I’m just saying, I know him. He doesn’t slack off. She would’ve been put to work already in one way or another.”

  “Hmm, okay. Thank you. I will come visit you later, if it’s okay.”

  “It is. Can’t wait!” she replied excitedly, making me laugh.

  “Great. See you soon.” I hung up, taking longer than usual to face Angel.

  “Well what did she say?”

  “She basically said that she’s not sure, but, according to his usual patterns, if he wanted to sign you, he would’ve called by now.”

  “Well she’s just his woman and probably doesn’t know anything. He’s busy, I get it, so I will wait around.”

  “Okay, sure. Anything else? I’m kind of busy myself.”

  Initially, I wanted to help Angel, but she was getting on my nerves, acting like the undiscovered female Michael Jackson.

  Standing, she shook her head ‘no’ but then paused. “What is she like? I sifted through her Instagram but couldn’t really get the gist. She seems very… quiet, and not really Wacko’s type.”

  “She’s very much his type, hence them being together.”

  “I guess. Men always think they want the good girls until they see something more their speed.” Angel shrugged, looking around my office with her eyes only.

  “I wouldn’t classify her as a good girl. She’s sweet, yes, but she’s far from some dainty flower.” I squinted my eyes, wondering what Angel’s angle was. She nodded and turned to leave, but I continued. “I would leave whatever you have in mind alone, Angel.”

  “What?” She laughed before yanking my door open and switching out.

  I sighed dejectedly because I knew if she caused any havoc, the first person people would look at would be me.

  After wasting ten minutes, thinking about conniving Angel, I got back to work. Mark showed up an hour later with a stack of files, as tall as a bookshelf, that he wanted me to sort through and finish doing so by the end of my shift.

  I was
much unhappier here than usual and knew I needed to get the fuck out of here. I just didn’t know where to go.

  I refused to take a job at any old place, because my money was tight as it was. If I made a dollar less, I might lose my apartment.

  By 7 p.m., I was done, going two hours past my clock out time. I shot out of there like a bat out of hell, heading straight to Camarih’s. I got us some ice cream because she said she was craving it. I parked in the guest space at her decked out condo and hurried up so I could have a look.

  “Oh my gosh, Rubie, thank you.” Camarih answered the door before hugging me and latching onto her ice cream.

  “Anytime.” I chuckled, walking in and admiring what I could see so far. “So this is it, huh? This is bomb.” I loved the tall windows.

  “Yes, I love it. Tony keeps saying it’s temporary and we will have a house soon. Then we will rent this place out.”

  “That nigga always got a hustle, don’t he?”

  We chortled in unison as she proceeded to take me on a tour.

  “He does.”

  After looking over the condo, we retired to the big living room, sinking into the comfy sectional. Camarih had given me wine, while she had a glass of fresh juice.

  “I need a new job.” I looked her way. “And a new man.”

  “Girl, I am so sorry he made that song and that Houston let him.” She rolled her eyes.

  “It’s okay. At the end of the day, Eitan is a grown man. He chose to make that record on his own.”

  “Well, now that he and Armonn are no longer in your life, you can maybe start job hunting.”

  “Yeah, but where? Only jobs available pay less than what I make, and my budget is already skintight with the check I get now.” I sunk down more into the couch. This shit made mine feel like a stack of bricks.

  “You can work for someone else like Mark but maybe in public relations?” Camarih cocked her head.

  “I could, but I don’t know anyone willing to hire me with little to no experience. And Mark isn’t gonna vouch for me.” It got quiet as we both swam through our thoughts. “Before Eitan and I fell out, he suggested I do PR for Make A Killing.” I looked her way to see what she thought of that.

  “Oh my gosh! Why didn’t I think of that! That would be so perfect!”

  “Umm, not really. I’m pretty sure Tony hates me for so-called cheating on his friend.”

  “Girl, he won’t care if there is money to be made. I think you should try, and I will put in a good word for you.”

  “How?” I chuckled. When she gestured a blowjob, we both fell out in laughter. “Okay, that is surely a good reference.”

  “The Angel girl, you must really believe in her to have called me.”

  “She’s a great singer, but I don’t know anymore. She thinks she’s something she’s not.”

  “It’s good to have confidence.”

  “Confidence, yes, but she walks around like she’s the second coming of Jesus to the music industry, and the girl ain’t even got a damn record deal.”

  “Oh yeah, no. I was gonna help her out, but I’m not wasting one of my dick sucks on her.”

  I laughed.

  “No, she’s not worth the work.”

  “I have to use my dick sucking skills wisely while being pregnant. Now when I wasn’t, I could do it twice in a day.”

  “Twice?” I bucked my eyes. “Girl, I barely wanna do it for two damn seconds.”

  “That was me, too, before Houston. I don’t know. I just like sucking his dick. His moans are so sexy, and then how he be cheering me on. Mmm.”

  “Okay, thanks, Camarih.” I frowned before taking down some more of the wine.

  She just giggled shyly.

  About an hour and a half later, I was leaving and heading home. I kept going back and forth between actually going for a job with Tony Wacko, to staying my ass over there with Mark, hoping he started going easier on me and promoted my ass.

  When I got home, I saw Armonn’s Lexus parked next to mine in the under garage, so I got out as quickly as I could to make it up to my place.

  I hadn’t seen or talked to him since that fiasco in the Friday’s parking lot, and that had been fine with me. I even took a day to pack all his shit up into his duffel bags so when he did show up, he could take it. Maybe that was what he was doing.

  “Excuse me.” I opened the front door to see Armonn seated on my couch, watching TV and eating chips.

  What the fuck was up with him and Eitan, acting like shit hadn’t happened and everything was fine? Was I the only one who remembered that neither one of these niggas were on my good list?

  “Oh, hey.” Armonn set the chips to the side.

  “Wipe your damn mouth.” I was disgusted by the sight of him, finding it hard to understand why I’d stuck by his ass all these years. “You didn’t see your bags near the door?” I pointed after setting my purse down.

  “I did, but I figured we could talk now that you’ve calmed down.”

  “Nigga, I haven’t seen you since we broke up! Why the hell would I want to talk?”

  “I just said I gave you time to calm down, but I see that hasn’t happened yet. Rubie, I get that you don’t like how I spend my money and that we should share, but understand, I’m a model. I have to look a certain way at all times. I can’t be catching the bus and in cheap ass clothes to jobs because I used my money for rent.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Because I just told you I have a reputation to uphold.”

  “Well great. Maybe the next bitch will be happy to stand by and wait until you become man enough not to give a damn what other people think of you.” I opened my front door and tossed one of his bags outside.

  “Rubie!” He hopped over the couch like he always did. “Baby, come on. Forgive me, and I’ll forgive you for whatever you did with that rapper.”

  “See, that’s the problem. I need a real nigga, not a little boy. What type of man would forgive his woman for being in a whole new relationship with another nigga?” I laughed. “Get your sorry ass out of my apartment before I call the police.”

  “Fuck you, Rubie.” He picked up his second bag. “I got what I needed anyway. You wasn’t worth shit but something to stick my dick in and pay my way.”

  His words caused me to see red, and next thing I knew, I was on his back, pounding the side of his head as he hollered.

  We spun around in the hallway of my apartment building, screaming and fighting until my male neighbor broke us up.

  “It’s late, and people are trying to sleep!” The older man, Warren, growled after placing me to my feet.

  “Tell him to get the fuck away from my apartment with his broke ass!” I screeched, feeling like I was hyperventilating.

  “Man, you—”

  “Boy, if you don’t get yo’ ass on so people around here can sleep. You don’t wanna make me mad. I’ll whoop yo’ pretty boy ass worse than she just did,” Warren warned.

  Knowing he couldn’t bust a grape in a food fight, Armon glared at me for a few seconds and then stormed off with his bags in tow.

  Looking down at me, Warren shook his head before treading back to his place while mumbling. I stayed outside for the fresh air, then went back inside of my place, and the only thing I could do was cry.

  Absolutely nothing seemed to be going right for me.

  Tony Wacko

  “Dang, man, why you call me out here to the hood?” Dirko entered my studio room with a bitch behind him.

  After thinking long and hard on the shit, I’d decided to offer him a contract. It’d been a minute since he’d brought it up though, and the nigga was high as a giraffe’s pussy when he said it, on top of that, so I didn’t know if he was gon’ accept. The fact that he drove his ass all the way out here to Leimert Park after 8 p.m., gave me some hope though.

  If this nigga signed with me, he would be that fifth artist that Paramount Recording Company had requested from me. Not to mention the muthafucka was a big ass fis
h, so PRC would be impressed and even more willing to throw some more cash my label’s way. I didn’t wanna put too much on it, however, because the nigga could choose to deny me. I’d beat cuz’s ass though, to make myself feel better, so I hoped he was prepared.

  “Nigga, why the fuck you always gotta have a bitch with you?” I shook my head as he sat at the mixer next to me.

  These hoes was always niggas’ downfall.

  “Excuse me?” The bitch looked at me, adjusting her purse. She had this shirt on that exposed in between her elongated ass titties. I didn’t know a fucking thing about females’ clothes and shit, but I knew for damn sure her shit didn’t look right.

  “Tell yo’ hoe and her pendulum titties not to address me.”

  “Bro, that’s my baby mama!” Dirko cackled a bit before turning to her as she talked shit. “Aye, man, sit down. You said you was gon’ chill.”

  “He’s the one talking shit!” She plopped down onto my studio couch.

  “You got it good, muthafucka. You can eat her pussy and suck her nipples at the same time with them stretched ass titties.” I was amazed.

  “You know what—” she hopped up.

  “Raja, sit down, man. He playing,” Dirko lied.

  “Yeah, sit yo’ ass down, Raja. Swinging them long muthafuckas. You hit me, and I’m decking yo’ ass.”

  Without a word, she gave Dirko a look before sitting her stupid ass down.

  “Nigga, you gon’ get me killed,” Dirko whispered.

  “Anyway, I wanna take you up on that offer. Bring you onto my team and shit.”

  “Word?” He grinned, nodding.

  “Yeah. You gon’ be way less work for me, I’m hoping, so I think the shit is a good ass idea. Plus, I ain’t got no damn singers, nigga ones at least.”

  “Shit, I’m down. I told you I trust you, and I need that little street credit.”

  “Quit saying that shit. You was just fucking trembling and shaking because I called yo’ ass out here.”

  “True, but I’ll get used to the shit. So where do I sign?”

  “I like doing shit electronically first, that way I always got a copy saved. So I’ll get it to you. You can have all ya fancy lawyers look it over, but don’t waste my fucking time, Dirko. You waste my time, it’s gon’ be problems for yo’ ass ’cause I can’t get that shit back.”