She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 2

by Shvonne Latrice

  Shanece had texted me, and I was scared to read it, but I did anyway.

  Shanece: He woke up, can’t make it. Please don’t be mad. Thanks for the offer.

  I plopped down onto my bed, dropping my head. For some reason, I was beyond excited to have breakfast with Shanece, and now my ass was bummed the fuck out. As stupid as it sounded, I hated coming second to her husband.

  “Is Shanece that hoe from Sephora?” Phoebe rubbed my back.

  “She ain’t a hoe.”

  “Damn, someone is in a bad mood. Her pussy can’t be that good. I ain’t ever seen you trip like this over wifey.”

  “Phoebe, if you gon’ stay here, don’t mention Shanece and for damn sure don’t mention my wife.” I stood back up to prepare for a shower.

  “You talking a lot of shit to someone who knows a lot about you.” Phoebe raised her brow as she laid in my bed like Queen of Sheba. “Yeah, tread lightly, sir.” She watched me exit the bedroom.

  Phoebe had me hot, but she was right. For now, I needed to play nice so she would keep my secrets until further notice. The last thing I needed was for Shanece to find out I had a wife, and even worse for Amara to find out I’d fucked Shanece and had consistently been trying to court her.

  I had no endgame at the moment, but I was hoping for a resolution sooner than later.

  Tony Wacko

  Inhaling on the blunt, I took my phone from my pocket to dial up Eitan. I needed to make sure this nigga was on his shit, because at times he could be stupid as fuck and irresponsible, but there was no time for the bullshit.

  Now that we had this fucking deal, everybody needed to be on their shit, or it was a wrap, friend or fucking not. I wasn’t passing out no muthafuckin favors to niggas who fucked with my bread. I had a whole ass baby coming, so I couldn’t afford to miss any coins over these bitches.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s twelve p.m.” I stared into at the street. I was outside of my studio while my engineer Abel and then Rahim were inside with Nala. Cornell was there too, as usual. “Fuck you at? Sound like yo’ ass just woke up.”

  “I had a long ass night,” he replied.

  “Yo’ rehearsal is at one thirty p.m., nigga. When you plan on starting yo’ fucking day?”

  “Oh fuck, that is today. Aight. I’m about to get up, my bad.”

  “Yeah, it’s def gon’ be yo’ fucking bad if I have to keep running behind yo’ ass, E. I thought this was what you wanted.”

  “It is, I—”

  “Then act like it, nigga. I don’t have time or money to waste on no lazy muthafuckas. Let me find out yo’ ass was late.”

  “Wacko, I ain’t—”

  Before he could finish, I hung up the phone, ashed my blunt, and went to the bathroom that was made only for me, to brush my teeth. After rinsing with mouthwash, I got some water from the stockroom and entered the studio room where Nala was.

  “Y’all recording this bullshit?” I asked after taking a long ass sip of the water. A nigga was thirsty as fuck in this hot ass weather.

  “Uh.” Abel stopped it. “This was like the fourth take, so I just tried to record and see if… you know.” He shrugged.

  “Nah, I don’t know. Rah, you know this shit sound like garbage, and you just sitting here. Nigga, this yo’ beat.” I shook my head.

  “You right.” Rahim nodded.

  Pressing the button so Nala could hear me inside of the booth, I asked, “Fuck is wrong with you?” I was staring at her ass through the large glass.

  “Nothing. I just needed some water. But that one was better.”

  “Better than what? You sounding like you been swallowing crack pipes all fucking week. Do the shit again.” I let go of the button then had Cornell bring her some water.

  “Okay, I’m for real this was all I needed, Tony.”

  “Drink the shit and shut up.” I stayed standing and waited while sipping my own fucking water.

  “Okay, ready!” She smiled at me flirtatiously as I watched her adjust the headphones. I kept a stale face, waiting to hear something better.

  “Aye, aye, aye!” I walked all the way to the window after she started, beating on the glass. “Do you need to go home? Do I need to replace yo’ ass?”

  “No, babe, I—”

  “I’m not yo’ fucking babe. You got a nigga; all I did was fuck you. Sing the fucking song again, and if it ain’t right, you can get the fuck out. I’ll find a new bitch that can do yo’ job since you bullshittin’.”

  “Oh shit, is she crying?” Abel’s eyes widened.

  “I don’t give a fuck about that hoe crying. You better not be sniffling and shit on this take either. Suck it the fuck up by the time that beat drop, Nala.”

  “You cold.” Rahim chuckled.

  For the next take, I paced the area right in front of the booth, watching Nala like a fucking hawk. Teary eyed and everything, she sang that muthafucka how she was supposed to, making a wide ass grin cross my face.

  The session was done about two hours later, so I let everybody know they could leave. I had a few emails to send and shit to set up for this event I was having, so I wasn’t about to bounce just yet.

  “You liked it?” Nala came back in the studio room with her purse on.

  “If I didn’t, I would’ve kicked yo’ big head ass out two hours ago.” I lit another blunt as I sat at the mixer.

  She giggled.

  “Good. I like making you proud.”

  I said nothing as I puffed while reading shit on my phone.

  “You been using my girl’s products?” I inquired without looking at her. She got silent until I finally gave her my attention.

  “I did, but I haven’t been keeping up.”

  “I can tell. Yo’ face is looking hard out here. Get a routine going immediately ’cause I ain’t having no scarecrow skin ass hoes on my label.”

  “Ri—ight, yeah. It’s just having the baby at home—”

  “I don’t give a fuck, Nala. Don’t you got a nigga? Complain to his ass, because I don’t give a damn about yo’ fucking issues or you crying in the fucking booth. Only baby I care about is mine, not that funny looking ass son of yours.”

  I didn’t give a fuck how mean the shit sounded because I was deadass. Fuck I look like giving a fuck about the baby of a bitch that I only wanted to swallow some nut? I’d leave that to these hoe ass niggas out here. Baby Wacko was the only little muthafucka I cared about, and that shit wasn’t gon’ change unless I got another kid.

  “Is Camarih why you don’t want—” She started toward me.

  “What I tell you when we first met?”

  “That we would just be working together and nothing serious.”

  “And if you didn’t abide by that, then what?”

  “I know, but—”

  “I’d slap the fuck up out of you. Take yo’ ass home and make sure them vocals is ready to put in work tomorrow. You come in here sounding like a wounded chimpanzee again, and I’m dropping yo’ ass.”

  “Tacos and Jamba Juice.” Camarih popped up, showing me what she had while cheesing with her sexy ass.

  She had on one of the shirts with my brand on it, oversized, some of them pregnant bitch jeans she had me buy, and heels. She made anything look good as fuck, even a damn t-shirt.

  “Then I’m gon’ eat that pussy for dessert.” I welcomed her into my lap like always, enjoying her scent as I ashed the blunt.

  “Baby.” Camarih set the food down in the other chair while nodding toward Nala.

  “Oh, her ass is leaving. She gotta get her skin together.” I kissed Camarih. “Bye, Nala,” I added since her ass still standing there watching. Weird ass hoe. I was gon’ have to box her fucking head; I knew it.

  “You’re so rude.” Camarih giggled once Nala was out of the room.

  “I don’t give a fuck. I’m here to make money, not be nice like these hoes want. Bitch complaining to me about her ugly ass baby at home and shit. Wasting my time recording that wild safari ass R&B.
”

  “Houston! Don’t say that, because you’ll jinx our baby.” Camarih kept her mouth wide to keep from laughing.

  “My kid can be ugly because ain’t none of these muthafuckas gon’ be bold enough to say the shit. I’m gon’ have the flyest ugly ass baby ever.”

  Tossing her head back, Camarih cackled.

  “No, our baby is gonna be so cute. I’m sure hers is too. How old is he?”

  “Fuck would I know? All I know is homie had a fucking staring problem, drooling and shit. I was just trying to fuck, so I paid the old hoe next door to watch his ass.”

  Covering her face, Camarih shook her head.

  “You don’t have to tell me everything.”

  “Look at you repping yo’ nigga.” I rubbed her belly while grinning, referring to her shirt.

  “Always.” She threw her arms around my neck to kiss me.

  For the next couple hours, we chilled and ate the good ass food she brought. The tacos were homemade and fire as a muthafucka. Before we went home though, I texted Nala one of Camarih’s YouTube videos showing how to use the shit for her face and in what order.

  Bitch thought I was joking, but I wasn’t. In this day and age in music, looks sold the product more than talent, so if you had both it was a win-win. Nala was a cute ass girl, but cute wasn’t gon’ cut the shit, especially if yo’ face looked like cracked concrete. She needed to handle that shit, same way Holli needed to handle them cupid shuffling ass teeth she had as soon as she got out.

  Tonight I was at a club, checking out this female rap group. They were already signed to Stallion, but I didn’t give a fuck. Yeah, a nigga was still salty about skunk pussy Sosie, but my girl was right; that hoe would regret it. I wasn’t the nicest muthafucka, but I wasn’t dirty like Stallion’s ass. He stayed fucking his artists over and would sign muthafuckas just to keep them hostage instead of figuring out how to make their asses sell.

  Case and point, these two hoes I was coming to see tonight. They went by the name Gangstar Girlz, which was corny as fuck to me, but since niggas knew them a little bit, I didn’t mind if they kept it. Ya name meant a whole fucking lot, so since their notoriety was attached to that name, it was best to make no changes.

  When they first popped, they had a cool little hit, but then Stallion didn’t seem like he knew what to do with their asses, so he hung them out to dry for muthafuckas like Prince.

  “They sound good.” Camarih laid her head on my shoulder as we watched from the booth we were in.

  I brought her because she was acting all clingy saying she never saw a nigga no more and because I actually liked kicking it with my girl.

  Camarih was nothing like what I thought having a main bitch would be like. She didn’t irritate the fuck out of me, usually, she wasn’t a fucking airhead, on most days she ain’t make me wanna put a pillow over her fucking face, and somehow, she made hanging out with her ass fun, even when we weren’t doing shit.

  “You sound good when I’m fucking you.” I squeezed her ass, even though she was sitting down, and started sucking on her neck.

  “Stop, nasty.” She giggled.

  “Yeah, them hoes is pretty good.”

  We continued watching the show as I made pointers in my phone. Camarih suggested that she go get them bitches because I was too rude. My phone chimed just as I saw her walking back over with them on her trail.

  Buttascotch: Do not call them bitches or hoes, Houston.

  Me: Skeezers?

  I chuckled, slipping my phone into my pocket. I’d do my fucking best, but I talked a certain way.

  “Okay, ladies. This is Tony Wacko.” Camarih grinned. “Tony, this is Keyana and Miko.”

  “Sup.” I nodded my head up. “Have a seat.”

  “Nice to meet you,” they said in unison.

  “We were surprised when your wife told us you wanted to meet.” Keyana smirked.

  I chuckled subtly at Camarih’s sneaky, jealous ass. I knew exactly why she told these females she was my wife.

  “Why is that?” I sipped my drink.

  “Well, because we got a deal already with Stallion. I mean, we completed it, but he sent us a new contract.” Miko sighed.

  “Y’all can’t be happy over there. Y’all ain’t been making no fucking noise for the past year.” I squinted my eyes.

  “We really haven’t, and I’ve been telling Keyana we need to explore our options, but she won’t.”

  “You getting fucked, huh?” I looked to Keyana who shied away from my eye contact.

  “Houston.” Camarih touched my shoulder.

  “Only time a bitch don’t wanna leave a bad situation is when she’s getting dicked down. That nigga fucking you, ain’t he?” I reiterated my question.

  Miko stared at her bandmate, waiting for a reply.

  “It’s more than that. We’re together, but it’s on the low,” Keyana expressed.

  “Y’all not together.” I laughed before polishing off my drink. “You a fucking nut rag and not shit else. Now you can continue on with that shit and end up being one of his baby mamas, or you can get some real fucking money and make some real muthafuckin moves in the game.”

  “Let’s just try, Key.” Miko nudged her.

  “Are you always this honest?” Keyana inquired.

  “Yes.” Camarih exhaled.

  “Come to the studio Monday. My producer is gon’ have some shit for you. I wanna see how y’all do on it. If the shit is good, we can agree to work together.” I rose up, helping Camarih do the same.

  “But he’s gonna be pissed. What do we tell him?” Miko quizzed.

  “If he hit you with some bullshit, just tell him come see me. I’ve been waiting on him.”

  “Oh my gosh! You beat his ass at that showcase!” Miko smiled up at me. “I knew I heard the name Tony Wacko associated with Stallion somewhere.”

  “Come around noon, and make sure you shower and brush yo’ fucking teeth. The last thing I need is the scent of morning breath and musty pussy in my booths.”

  “Okay! Goodnight, ladies!” Camarih pulled on me.

  “Goodnight!” they both replied.

  Camarih and I got the car from punk ass valet for free like always because I ain’t feel the need to pay for the shit.

  “Baby, you can’t go around not paying for valet.”

  “I been doing the shit, and I’m gon’ keep doing it. Shit is a scam.” I dropped my piece in my lap before pulling off. “You hungry?”

  “Yes, always. Your best friend is calling,” she announced after looking at my phone in between us.

  “Who?” I frowned.

  “Eitan.”

  “Fuck is you talking that gay shit for?”

  “That is not gay to have a best friend.” She laughed.

  “It is. Any muthafucka calling another nigga his best friend is fucking him.”

  Camarih chortled.

  “It just means you and Eitan are best buddies.”

  “Shut up, Camarih.” I shook my head as she giggled. “If I did have a best friend, it would be yo’ cute ass.” As I drove, I glanced her way, already smirking because I knew she was blushing and shit.

  “I hate you!” She screeched with a chuckle before shielding her face out of embarrassment.

  “You so fine, girl.”

  “Shut up, Houston.” Her ass was grinning widely as fuck. Corny ass. She was mine though, and if I caught niggas calling her corny, I was killing their asses. “Move that.” She tapped the heat in my lap.

  “Nah. I can’t ride unless it’s here. You know that shit.”

  Without another word, Camarih moved it herself, then reached down into my track pants to reveal my dick before taking that shit into her mouth. I got comfortable, enjoying the head until I had to pull over to bust.

  7

  Eitan

  In about twenty minutes, I would be doing one of the biggest performances of my damn career, and the shit was scary as fuck. But at least the pay was nice as hell, way heftier than th
e shit I was used to. It was this live ass festival where plenty of artists had gotten a lot of exposure and where plenty of people had blown up.

  Now that my songs had gotten more rotation on bigger and way more platforms, the money was really rolling the fuck in. It was way more work than usual, but I was grateful as fuck. And as much as Tony pissed me off by being on my ass 24/7, I was appreciative of that shit because it kept me going on days where I just wanted to lie around and do nothing.

  “There are so many people.” Rubie broke me from my thoughts.

  “I know.” I kissed her.

  It felt good to have my girl here, and yeah, she was mine. The morning I told her to leave that nigga, she did, and we’d been attached at the hip ever since. It’d only been a couple weeks, but the shit felt good as hell. And I loved how supportive she was of me and always pumping me up. I saw why Tony was on his monogamy shit; it wasn’t all that bad, at least for right now.

  “I already got my phone ready.”

  “You should come out on stage and be like my video girl, but for the performance.”

  “No. I look busted.”

  “No you don’t. You got on heels; you dressed up.”

  “No. I’m just too shy. Plus, this is about you, so we don’t want any distractions.”

  “Oh, you think you that fine, huh?”

  “I am.” She winked.

  I kissed Rubie’s lips before quietly giving myself a pep talk now that the girl before me was ending her show.

  It was 3 p.m. in the afternoon and bright as fuck outside. The crowd was thick as hell to the point where I couldn’t make out a face even if I wanted to. A part of me wanted Tony backstage with me to give me one of his rude ass insulting pep talks, so I dialed him up since I had a few minutes before they mic’d me.

  “What, nigga?” he answered.

  “I’m scared as hell, bro.” I took a deep breath as Rubie rubbed my back.

  Tony was here but in one of them outside bungalows so he could watch with the crowd with Camarih. The homies were here too.

  “If you don’t quit acting like a little ass hoe and take yo’ punk ass out there. Fuck you mean you scared? And if you scared, what the fuck you calling me for, with yo’ gay ass? Get yo’ hoe to coddle you like the baby bitch nigga you acting like.”