She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 2

by Shvonne Latrice

  “Well,” I swallowed hard. “I guess I should be going.” As soon as I tried to get past her, she gripped my bicep roughly. “Bob—”

  “Shut up.” She yanked me into her, pressing my back into her mushy chest as she caressed my belly from behind. Her other hand went straight to my inner thigh, and I regretted wearing a dress. She continued up until her hand was against my panty-covered vagina, which she brushed her fingers across.

  “Get off me!” I turned to push her, but she put a pocketknife to my stomach, halting me.

  “Calm down, or you’ll be delivering quite early.” She grabbed my arm again, keeping the knife to my belly with the other as she escorted me to her and my mother’s bedroom.

  “Bobi, please, I have to go home. I have work.” I felt the tears coming up.

  “Didn’t I say be quiet?” She brought the knife to my neck.

  “I—”

  The doorbell rang, making her look over her shoulder as if she’d be able to see who it was.

  “Get in here, and don’t come out or I will slice you open.” She shoved me into the closet.

  As soon as she left, I started to think of how I could get out of here. Fighting with her big ass would most likely harm my baby. The window in my mama’s room was jammed, and even without my belly, one was too big to crawl through.

  Pulling my phone out, I groaned seeing I only had 5 percent. I quickly dialed Tony’s number, praying he wasn’t in the studio with super loud music and paying no attention to his phone.

  “I’m working, fine ass,” he answered. “What you want? And whatever it is, don’t be playing sleep when I pull up ‘cause I wanna fuck.”

  “Houston, can you come get me?” I whimpered. “I need you to come fast. I’m at my mom’s house.”

  Click.

  My tears stopped for a little bit when I pulled the phone away to see if he was still on the line. He wasn’t, so I called him back but got no answer. Bobi was still talking at the door, but I could tell she wanted to end the conversation. Only a couple minutes passed before Tony was calling me.

  “Where you at?” He spoke before I could say my greeting.

  “In my mama’s room. It’s the window next to mine. Remember when you cam—”

  Again, he hung up. Moments later, I heard a knock on the window, so I emerged from the closet slowly to lift it as far as it would go. I was wondering how he’d gotten here so quickly, then I remembered the studio was less than four minutes away, especially at night with not much traffic.

  “This shit stuck.” Tony scowled. I backed away as he worked with it, snapping it off. I was surprised by his strength, even though he was a healthy built man. “Get back in the closet,” he told me once he’d climbed into the window. “Wait.” He grabbed my hand, so I turned to look up at him.

  “Yes?”

  “You good? What she do?”

  “Nothing yet. She wouldn’t let me leave.” I bucked my eyes as soon as the last word left my mouth because I heard Bobi close the door shut and start back this way.

  I hurried into the closet, peering through the shutters as Tony waited for something. Why weren’t we leaving?

  WHAM!

  “Who you looking for?” Tony had gone across Bobi’s face as soon as she came in, making her back hit the dresser before she fell to the floor. It was like an earthquake.

  My eyes had started to become dry from not blinking and keeping them wide open as I watched Tony beat her ass all across the medium sized bedroom.

  She hollered and screamed as he showed no mercy. Finally, once she’d gone silent and limp, he stopped, then came to open the closet. We started toward the door, but he paused.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Go get a clean towel.”

  I stared at him for a minute until he nodded for me to go. Rushing off, I grabbed a face towel from the linen closet in the hallway. I brought it to him, and he picked up the strap-on sitting on top of the dresser, using the towel to shield his hands. I hadn’t even seen the toy until now.

  “Stop!” I screeched when he wiggled it in my face with his stupid ass.

  “That’s right. My dick is the only one you welcome in yo’ face.” He kissed me, grinning with his sexy, psycho ass.

  Walking over to Bobi passed out on the floor with blood on her shirt, nose, and lips, he pushed the dick part of the strap-on into her mouth.

  I couldn’t help but to laugh at how stupid she looked, especially because she was always acting like men and their parts were disgusting.

  Tony led me out after getting my box that I pointed to, but once outside, I didn’t see his car.

  “The homie dropped me off,” he let me know, I guess reading my mind as I looked up and down the street.

  “I’m so tired.” I whined, rubbing my stomach.

  “You fine too.” He grabbed my ass and kissed the corner of my mouth. His compliments always made me blush. “But give me the keys with yo’ passive aggressive ass.”

  I chuckled because he knew me so well. I didn’t feel like driving. Bobi’s ass had tired me out.

  Once in the car and on the road, I said, “I’m so hungry.”

  “You swear ’cause a nigga put one in you that you can boss me the fuck around, Buttascotch.”

  “Noooo, baby, I’m just starved. It’s the baby, not me.” I leaned over to kiss his neck, liking the smirk that appeared on his face.

  “It’s late as fuck.”

  “I wanna sit down.”

  “Lucky I fuck with you.” He sent off a text quickly as we waited for the stoplight to turn green.

  “I love you too.”

  He drove for a little longer, but not much, and pulled into the parking lot of Denny’s. Not many cars were here, which wasn’t surprising since it was late and Tuesday. Thinking about the time made me wonder where my mother was and why we hadn’t crossed paths at the house.

  Tony helped me out of the car then removed his hoodie for me to wear since it was a bit nippy outside. We were immediately seated in a booth, and like always, I chose to sit next to Tony instead of across. He always faced the door so he could see who was coming and going wherever we were.

  We ordered the same thing, and he teased me per usual for copying, but I didn’t care. It didn’t take long for our Grand Slamwiches with pancakes and a side of fries to come, along with our juices.

  “Aye, when y’all gon’ start serving Hennessy?” Tony quizzed, shoving a fry into his mouth.

  “Oh no, sir. We don’t serve that type of stuff.”

  “I know you don’t fucking serve it, nigga. I asked when was y’all gon’ start.”

  “My—my ap—apologies—”

  “Fuck you stuttering for? I asked a simple ass question, and here yo’ Michelin man ass acting like I got a gun to yo’ fucking head. Racist ass. Get me some fucking napkins ’fore you piss me off.” Tony hissed as he ate some more.

  The guy looked to me, but I just shrugged before he ran off to get the napkins. Tony was right though, it was a simple question, but I guess my man was intimidating.

  “Maybe he is racist.” I drank some juice.

  “He is. Niggas like him be acting like a bitch anytime a Black man over six feet is in his presence.”

  The guy returned with the napkins, and I laughed when Tony snatched them. He did look like the Michelin man due to his plethora of rolls.

  Forgetting about him, we ate our food and talked like we always did late at night. I enjoyed all the things he told me because I always learned something new, and I loved how he genuinely seemed interested in my career. I had barely updated him before tonight because I was so excited about his deal with Paramount Recording Company.

  “Oh my gosh, baby, it’s three a.m!” I exclaimed after checking my watch.

  Time always flew when we got into our conversation zone, but usually when it was this late, it happened in bed, so we’d either have sex then pass out or just pass out. It was usually always the former with Tony though.

  �
��I know. Come on so I can pipe you.” He helped me from the booth.

  We started toward the door, which bemused me because we were supposed to pay at the counter.

  “Sir, sir, your meal!” the girl at the counter called out.

  “It’s on the house, bitch. Y’all racist.” Tony responded roughly, and she just looked back at some other man who shrugged.

  As Tony and I exited, we passed this girl who looked familiar. She was eyeing us hard, while holding hands with some other guy. I then remembered she was the one I saw in his lap the day he invited me to the studio way back; Kenya, I believe.

  “Hi, Tony,” the girl commented. She was watching so hard her man had to damn near pull her along.

  Ignoring her, Tony put his arm around me, crushing his lips against mine before we continued to the car. He did right, because if he spoke to that bitch, I was gonna rage.

  Just an hour and a half later… Around 4:45 a.m.…

  My phone buzzed, so I sat up, feeling sleepy as I didn’t know what. I looked on the dresser to see it was my mom, so I answered. As badly as she treated me, I didn’t hate her… completely.

  “Ma, are you okay?”

  “She’s dead!” She sobbed hysterically.

  “Who?” I got up since I had to pee anyway. I made sure Tony was still asleep.

  “Bobi.” My mother cried hard. I hated Bobi, but I felt bad for her.

  “Are you sure?” I sat down on the toilet to drain my bladder.

  I wanted to say that Tony just beat her ass, but I couldn’t spill that tea. He’d already sliced Bobi’s fingers, which I was sure my mom was aware of.

  “There is a big bullet hole in her fucking head! Of course I’m sure, dummy!” She hollered, shocking me and hanging up.

  Just as I set my phone on the sink, I saw Tony in the doorway.

  “You aight?” he quizzed, adjusting his dick in his cotton sweats.

  “Yes… Bobi is dead… Did you know? She was alive when we left her, right?”

  “Yeah, she was.” He nodded. “Wash ya hands and come back to bed.”

  Flushing the toilet after wiping, I cleaned my hands then used some of my handmade lotion to replenish the moisture. I then went back to bed.

  “Goodnight, Houston.” I kissed him once lying next to him.

  “Anybody that fucks with you, fucks with me.” He peered into my eyes, so I nodded before pecking him again.

  Why was I happy that Bobi was dead? Who was I turning into?

  Rubie

  Camarih: Hey, Tony is having an event, so if you can invite any of Mark’s artists that would be cool. If not it’s okay. I won’t be mad.

  I smirked reading the text because Camarih was so nice. After texting back that I would definitely let a few qualified individuals know, I put my phone away.

  I couldn’t wait to go to that event, because I knew I would run into Eitan. Since our blow up, he hadn’t even tried to talk to me, and I damn sure wasn’t about to try with him. I hated that I thought about him though, because I had a man. Eitan was just supposed to be my little bit of fun on the side, but now he was bleeding into main nigga territory.

  “Miss Bailey, wait up.” Someone called out just as I stuck my key into the door.

  “Oh hi, Doris.” I smiled at my landlord.

  I was a bit puzzled though because she and I never talked. The last time we had a conversation was when I moved in and maybe the day after.

  “Hello. So, the check you wrote for the rent bounced, Miss Bailey. I need the nine hundred eighty-five dollars plus the fee I was charged for the check returning.”

  “Uh… are you sure?”

  “I am. I double checked at the bank because you’ve never written a bad check in all the years you’ve lived here.”

  “Right. Well, I guess I need to call my bank and see what’s going on because I do this same thing every month, and I get paid the same too, so I don’t understand.”

  After looking me over sympathetically, she replied, “Well, I need it by the end of the week, one thousand twenty dollars in total.” Doris turned on her heels, leaving me at my door bewildered.

  As soon as she hit the corner, I entered my apartment and whipped my iPhone out. Checking my bank balance, I saw I had $200 left. I double checked my notes app and saw I was supposed to have $500 after all of my bills, since I had cut some corners, so I didn’t get it. Going back to the bank app, I scrolled through the transactions and saw a charge in the amount of $1,640 had been paid to a PNDPHT LLC.

  Dialing my bank, I paced the living room, furious as hell about them letting someone steal my damn money.

  “Thank you for verifying your identity, Miss Bailey. How may I help you?”

  “You guys allowed some criminal to steal over one thousand dollars from me, and I need it back. This has caused my rent check to bounce, and other charges will overdraw me once they come through!”

  “Oh my! I am very sorry. How much is the charge specifically?”

  “It’s one thousand six hundred forty dollars. And who the fuck is PNDPHT LLC?” I yelled each letter separately.

  “Okay. It looks like it was paid to a Pond Photography. Do you know who that is? Or have you taken any photos recently?”

  “Hell no, I don—”

  Closing my eyes, I knew exactly who this was; Armonn.

  “Miss Bailey?”

  “No. I never approved that charge, so what’s next?”

  “We must investigate the transaction. For now, we can reverse it, but if it comes back that you did in fact make this purchase, we will re-withdraw it.”

  “Are you implying that I’m lying?”

  “No, no, Miss Bailey. I have to let every customer know the protocol. Some see the money has been returned and then are surprised when we take it back out due to the investigation not resulting in their favor.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I was a little scared because I feared once they dug deeper, they’d see Armonn was my man and I’d given him access to my accounts on various platforms and occasions. But I needed to pay my rent, so I had to get my money back.

  I got off the phone with the operator after about ten more minutes of her asking me questions and wanting to know if there were anymore unrecognizable charges on my debit card or account.

  As soon as I hung up, I called Armonn since he wasn’t home. I’d known that already because I got an Uber notification while I was still at work, letting me know he’d gone over to Hollywood. My apartment was in Inglewood, so it cost a nice amount of change for him to get there; plus, I knew he’d need to get back. He’d been using my Uber account more frequently lately, and the charges were always over $25. He said they were for auditions, which I believed, but now this shit was becoming a whole new damn bill.

  Armonn wasn’t answering, so after the fourth call, I just left a voicemail saying to call me ASAP. I then went onto Instagram since I had a message, and saw he’d just posted a photo at some place and was also responding to comments posted recently. I left three question marks under his photo, unsure of why he hadn’t answered my calls, when clearly, he had his phone. And I knew the shit wasn’t cut off because I paid it.

  Needing someone to talk to, I dialed Camarih as I left the apartment to go to my car.

  “Hello?” She answered softly.

  “I’m sorry. Were you napping?”

  “Nope, I’m working. You okay?”

  “Are you too busy to talk?”

  “Not if it’s in person. You can come over here so I can finish this batch of products and listen.”

  “Okay. Crazy cuz ain’t gon’ pop out on me, right?”

  We shared a laugh.

  “Girl, he is working.”

  As crazy as I knew Tony was, I somewhat envied how much he cared about Camarih. Armonn only gave a damn about his career and had no idea I’d been fucking on Eitan here and there.

  Eitan… he was so fine.

  “Okay. Be there soon.”

  I pulled my checkbook f
rom my purse and wrote out the $1,020 due for rent, and then dropped it off to Doris before going to Camarih’s.

  I parked on the street, and after ringing the doorbell, she answered, wearing tights and a bralette. Her golden curls were piled up on top of her head, and the pregnancy glow had taken affect. I didn’t know Camarih’s skin could have any more glow than she did naturally, which reminded me that I needed some of her stuff.

  “Welcome. Would you like something to drink or a snack?” she offered with a smile as she closed the door behind me.

  It smelled extremely good in here, and I could hear “Jukai” by Jhene Aiko playing lowly.

  “Something to drink, sure.”

  Camarih gestured for me to have a seat on the comfy sectional couch and went to get me some juice. She said it was fresh squeezed, and it definitely tasted like it.

  “So what’s up?” She sat down at the desk in the living room. It was covered with jars that had her logo on them, glass bottles that she put her perfume in, and one of those big bowls with a fancy mixer, which was what I guessed she concocted with.

  “Do you make everything?” I quizzed, referring to the juice I was drinking. It was watermelon, ginger, kale, and honey. It was bomb.

  “Not everything, but if I can make it, why buy it?” She temporarily looked up from her work.

  “That time I asked Tony that question about a man borrowing money, I was talking about myself.” I spit it out.

  “Oh. I figured that was the case when he ran out of Eitan’s show. What does your man do again?” She stopped putting together the jars.

  “He’s a model, or an up and coming model, I guess. Anyway, I’d been doing okay, managing, but today, our rent check bounced because he basically stole sixteen hundred dollars from me for new photos.”

  Camarih’s brows furrowed as she looked me over.

  “It’s time to move on.”

  “No, see, everyone says that. I love him, and he’s trying.”

  “Okay.” She got up; her belly was so cute. “Then what does he do to pitch in?”