Eviction Notice (11 page)

CHAPTER 17

Ms. Pat adjusted
her glasses and looked at the approaching trio. “Well, if it ain’t the good, the bad, and the ugly,” she addressed Bernie, Boots, and Happy respectively.

“Ms. Pat, you stay with the jokes.” Boots laughed.

“If you wanna hear a joke, wait until they come out with the story of your life on audiobook.” Ms. Pat slapped her thigh and roared as if she’d just come up with the funniest joke in the world. “Girl, you know I’m just playing. How the children doing?”

“They’re good, the big ones are outta my hair for the day so it’s just me and Hassan.” Boots nodded to the stroller Bernie was pushing.

“Hey, baby.” Ms. Pat pulled the stroller toward her so she could get a better look at the child. “He looks just like his daddy, but I see a little of you in there too, Bernie.”

“Huh?” Bernie frowned.

“Nothing, baby.” Ms. Pat patted his hand sympathetically, and looked at Boots, whose skin had gone pale. Thankfully, Gucci came walking up with the kids and diverted Ms. Pat’s attention. “Hey, my grandbabies.” Ms. Pat hugged Jalen and Miles when they rushed to her. “I hope y’all didn’t give Gucci too much trouble?”

“Trouble ain’t the word.” Gucci sighed. “I am so glad I don’t have kids, because if I did I’d surely be in the nuthouse.” Gucci dropped Jalen and Miles’s overnight bags next to Ms. Pat on the bench.

“Gucci, what’s good, ma?” Boots hugged her warmly.

Gucci’s nose wrinkled as Boots was a bit tart, but Gucci didn’t push her friend away. For as trifling as Boots was, it felt good to see a familiar face. “Chilling, what’s going on with you?”

Boots shrugged. “Trying to get it how I live like everybody else.”

“I know that’s right.” Gucci gave her a high five.

“What up, Gucci, you can’t speak?” Happy addressed her.

“Hey, Happy.” Gucci rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Bernie and the baby. “What’s good, daddy day care?” she teased Bernie.

“You know me, enjoying the square life with my wife and family,” Bernie said proudly, pushing the stroller forward so Gucci could see
his
son.

Gucci tickled the baby’s plump chin, causing him to giggle and drool. “Damn, he’s getting big. When y’all having another one?”

“Shit, I’m five and done. I’m about to get my tubes tied,” Boots told her.

Gucci twisted her lips. “Boots, you were screaming you were getting your tubes tied two kids ago and still ain’t found your way under the knife, so knock it off. Besides, Bernie is a young man and he’ll probably wanna have more kids,” Gucci teased her.

“Then he better get one of them mail-order bitches to bear them because I’m done,” Boots said seriously.

“Ay, Gucci, what’s up with ya girl Tionna?” Happy asked.

“You keep better tabs on her than I do, so I should ask you the same,” Gucci shot back.

Happy had been obsessed with Tionna for as long as Gucci could remember, and after Tionna finally let him hit it, the obsession had gone to another level. Happy showered her with gifts, money, and everything under the sun, but there was no amount of wealth that he flaunted that could make her give him her heart, because back then it still belonged to Duhan. Happy turned into a borderline stalker, popping up wherever Tionna was and making trouble. Ironically, it was Happy who had been responsible for Gucci and Animal’s meeting.

Tionna and Gucci had been at a Big Dawg listening party when Happy and some of his flunkies showed up. When Tionna slighted him for Don B., Happy tried to cause a scene. He ended up getting his ass whipped by members of Don B.’s entourage, but one of Happy’s people had managed to sneak a gun inside the place and when he pulled it, all hell broke loose. When security whisked Don B. and the ladies out of the club, Tionna and Gucci ended up paired off with Animal and Don B. Initially, Gucci couldn’t stand Animal, writing him off as just another street cat, but the more she got to know him the more drawn to him she found herself. Tionna and Don B.’s relationship had ended horribly, but for Animal and Gucci it had been kismet.

“Tionna don’t want me,” Happy said sadly. “I’d be willing to give that girl the world if she just acted right, but she don’t see that.”

“Money can’t buy love, Hap,” Bernie said, looking tenderly at Boots.

“It may not be able to buy love, but a damn good substitute,” Boots said with a snort, which started a minor argument between her and Bernie.

Happy stood around watching the exchange, laughing, then he suddenly felt a chill down his back. He looked up to see Mookie staring at him. “What’s good, Mookie?”

“You tell me, big time?” Mookie sucked his teeth. “I heard you’re the man to see, baller.”

“You know money makes the world go round, baby,” Happy said arrogantly.

“I hear that hot shit. Let ya boy hold something,” Mookie said.

Happy shrugged. “I ain’t got it.”

“You ain’t got it, huh?” Mookie looked from Happy’s iced-out chain to the nugget ring on his pinkie finger. “Let me find out.”

“Well, when you find out, give me a holla,” Happy shot back. “I’m out.” He waddled down the street. Happy talked tough to impress the ladies, but he secretly feared Mookie. He knew how the old-school gangster got down and didn’t want to get caught up.

“Fat muthafucka,” Mookie said when Happy was out of earshot.

“Damn, Mookie, you hate everybody,” Boots accused.

“Nah, just that muthafucka. He’s a piece of shit and a snake that would sell his own mama for a get-out-of-jail-free card.”

“Who, Hap? Nah, that’s a good dude right there. It’s been a few times when I was down he put me on to get some bread with him,” Bernie defended Happy.

Mookie looked at Bernie as if he had lost his mind. “You mean get money
for
him. Happy don’t do shit for nobody unless it’s to benefit his greedy ass. If I were you, I’d steer clear of that muthafucka before you find yourself wearing a charge for him. Come on, Fish, let’s boogie. I’m about to go grab a forty and get with this shorty.” Mookie started off toward Manhattan Avenue, with Fish on his heels.

“I don’t know why everybody always trying to kick Happy’s back in; he’s one of the realest niggaz out here,” Bernie said.

Ms. Pat just shook her head at his ignorance. “The Lord looks out for babies, fools, and dumb animals, and being the good Christian I am, I ain’t gonna speculate which category this one falls into,” she said under her breath.

“Watch it, that’s my baby daddy you’re talking about.” Boots folded her arms and gave Ms. Pat a stink look.

“What happened, you got some frog in you?” Ms. Pat picked up her purse.

“Auntie, why don’t you leave people alone?” Gucci scolded. “Boots, pay her no mind. You know Aunt Pat gets a little crazy when she’s off her meds.” Gucci tried to laugh it off.

“Niece of mine, you’re absolutely right. As a matter of fact, it’s about time for my treatment.” Ms. Pat fished around in her wig for the joint she’d stashed and placed it between her lips. “One of y’all give me a light.”

“Auntie, put that away. You can’t get blazed in front of Miles and Jalen like that!” Gucci said.

“Why the hell not? They mama get blazed damn near every night. I guess that’s why she keeps getting pregnant.” Ms. Pat laughed hysterically.

“Gucci, what does
blazed
mean?” Miles asked innocently.

“None of your business. Don’t pay your grandmother any mind.” Gucci hugged her nephew to her.

A young man wearing a pair of skinny jeans sagging off his ass ambled over to the bench and waved to get Ms. Pat’s attention. “Hey, Ms. Pat, you holding?”

It seemed like everyone, including the children, looked to Ms. Pat for a response.

“Negro, is you crazy, rolling up on me while I’m out here with my fam? I don’t play that shit.” She hugged Jalen and Miles to her so that their backs were to the young man and mouthed,
Meet me in the lobby in five minutes
. The young man gave her a confused nod and went back the way he had come. “The nerve of some of these young folks, got me out here G-checking mofos and getting all excited. Shit, got my damn pressure up.” She fanned herself.

“Auntie, your ass is a trip.” Gucci laughed.

“With no luggage.” Ms. Pat gave her a high five. “Okay, kids, let me run y’all in the house so I can feed you before ya mama come to pick you up.”

“We’re not hungry, we had candy on the way over here with Gucci,” Jalen told her.

“Well, candy doesn’t count as food, so come on.” Ms. Pat got up off the bench and started gathering her things. Jalen sucked her teeth. “Suck ’em one more time and I’ll bet I’ll make you swallow ’em.” This quieted Jalen. “I swear you get more and more like ya mama every day.”

“Speaking of Jada, what’s up with her? Finding her has been like finding Nemo lately,” Gucci said.

“I haven’t seen too much of her either, thank the Lord. Since Cutty came home from prison she’s been staying uptown with him, playing house,” Ms. Pat told her.

“More like playing catch-up. I heard she burned him for like twenty stacks and he’s making her work it off,” Boots said. As soon as the words left her mouth and she saw the glare she got from Ms. Pat and Gucci, she regretted opening her mouth.

“Let me tell you something.” Ms. Pat pointed her finger at Boots. “I don’t care what you and Jada’s differences are, but she’s still a Butler so you watch your damn mouth when you’re talking about my granddaughter, especially when you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I didn’t mean no disrespect, Ms. Pat. I’m just telling y’all what the streets are saying,” Boots said apologetically.

“The streets say a lot, and if I repeated half of what I hear, yo ass would sure nuff be on the way to the emergency room and ol’ Bernie here would be on his way to prison, so let’s not throw stones, Boots. And if the streets need something to talk about, tell them this: if anybody is stupid enough to mistreat a member of my family, that iron will sure as hell get their minds right.” She patted her purse. “On that note, I’m out. Come on, children.” Ms. Pat snatched her great-grandkids by the arms and stormed off.

*   *   *

“Boots, you always
did know how to put your foot in your mouth.” Gucci laughed.

Boots sucked her teeth. “Gucci, your aunt be tripping. I was only saying what’s already out there.”

“Well, you said it to the wrong person. You know she don’t play when it comes to her great-grandkids, especially Jada. She might pop a lot of shit, but that’s still her baby girl, crazy-ass baby daddy or not.”

“Hey, what’s the deal with Cutty anyway? I heard that nigga had a hundred years or some shit like that—how’s he home?” Bernie asked.

Gucci shrugged. “Don’t start me to lying. Let Jada tell it, he was able to give most of his time back on appeal because of some kind of technicality with his case.”

Boots looked at her sideways. “I know niggaz still laying up for drugs because their appeals were denied, so with Cutty having all of them bodies I just can’t see him getting off like that. Shit smells funny to me.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Gucci asked.

Boots thought about it for a few minutes before answering her. “Look, Gucci, I don’t know how they doing it on Fortieth Street these days, but in these projects, snitching has become the new drug of choice and all these niggaz is addicts. Maybe Cutty decided he wasn’t built to do life in prison?”

“Hold on, Boots. Now though I ain’t no big fan of Cutty’s, real recognizes real. Cutty might be a lot of things, but I can’t see him being no snitch.”

“That’s the same thing they said about Rock Head before he got Animal wrapped up.” Boots meant it as a joke to assassinate Rock Head’s character, but there was no mirth in Gucci’s eyes, only fire. “Sorry, Gucci, I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.”

“Can’t be touchy when your spirit is numb, ma.” Gucci cracked a half smile, trying to hide her hurt. “My nigga is gone and I’m always gonna miss him, but for the little bit of time we did have together I got to know
true
love. That’s something a lot of people will never find no matter how high or how low they look.” Her eyes lingered on Bernie, who was playing with the baby. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Gucci glanced at her watch. “I gotta get outta here, but it was good seeing you, Boots. You too, Bernie.”

“Don’t stay away so long the next time.” Boots gave her a tight hug.

Gucci held her at arm’s length and smiled. “I’m always around, I just ain’t here.” she looked around at the projects. “Ima see you later, Boots.”

Boots stood there watching Gucci stride proudly down the hill toward Manhattan Avenue, letting what she had said roll around in her mind. Gucci had been beaten to the ground by what she went through and still managed to hold her head high and carry on as if nothing were wrong. Boots admired her for her strength and hated herself for not being as strong. She was a settler, in life and in love, and looking at Bernie playing with her son only reminded her of how far down the ladder she was slipping.

CHAPTER 18

The Crazy Horse
was one of many gentlemen’s clubs located in New York City. On any given night you could find it packed with men and women downing booze and ogling flesh, living out fantasies in their minds and in some cases one of the back rooms reserved for VIP services, but at six o’clock in the evening this wasn’t the case. There were a few hard legs mounted on bar stools, watching the two homely girls on stage, trying to make them jump through hoops for the few singles they had to offer, but other than that, the spot was dead that early in the evening.

Porsha strutted across the sticky floor of the main area with her blond wig blowing in the breeze of the tower fans. She wore a black G-string bikini under a sheer robe that tied at the waist. Normally the day shift was reserved for girls who weren’t attractive or skilled enough to compete with the nighttime lineup; neither applied to Porsha, but she was on a paper chase and every dollar counted.

Ever since they’d received the eviction notice it had weighed heavily on her. Things had been rough on her for the last few months with paying for school and just day-to-day living, but she had managed to maintain and kept picking up the pieces of her life. Getting evicted would be a major setback in the grand scheme of what she was doing. If they did get put out, she was sure she would be able to eventually get back on her feet, but it would take time and money, meaning that she would have to drop out of school to work more hours, and that would put her back at square one. Porsha had worked too hard to get where she was and wasn’t about to blow it all because of someone else’s bullshit.

From the beginning she had been apprehensive about moving in with Frankie and Sahara because of how they’d all met in the first place. She had known Sahara from her days dancing at the Golden Lady and had met Frankie through her. Sahara had a beef with a pimp who was trying to force her to get down with him, so she had started bringing Frankie with her a couple of nights per week to watch her back in case he tried something crazy, which he did. The pimp and Sahara had gotten into a heated word exchange that resulted in his trying to put his hands on her, which was a mistake. Frankie broke a bottle over the pimp’s head and the two of them went toe-to-toe in the middle of the club. Not one to see a man beating on a woman, Porsha tried to break it up, which prompted one of the pimp’s whores to get into it and all hell broke loose. The end result was Porsha and Sahara being banned from the Golden Lady. The girl’s having each other’s backs during the brawl had forged a bond between them that would eventually grow into an unlikely friendship.

A hand grazing her arm snapped Porsha out of her daze and brought her back to the reality of where she was and what she was doing. He was a young dude of about twenty or so, wearing gaudy jewelry, sitting behind one of the small tables on the floor with two of his friends. He wasn’t the most handsome cat Porsha had ever seen but he had a fistful of singles so she went with his advance.

“What’s good, ma?” he asked with a smile.

“You,” she said seductively. “How about a dance?”

“How much?” he asked.

“Twenty per song.”

“A’ight, come on.” He pushed his chair back from the table so she could do her thing. Porsha lowered herself onto his lap and began to move in time with the song that was playing. The young man could feel the heat of Porsha’s sex through his jeans and it brought him to an instant erection. “Damn,” he moaned.

Porsha ground harder on his lap. “You like that, don’t you?” He reeked of alcohol but she ignored the stench and kept plucking dollars from him.

“Hell yeah,” he breathed. Porsha turned around and grabbed her ankles and began bouncing her ass up and down on his lap. He was in the throes of pleasure when the song ended and Porsha abruptly stopped her grinding. “Shit, why you stopped?”

“Song is over, boo,” Porsha said while counting her singles.

“Damn, baby, that was way too quick.” He grabbed her arm to try to prevent her from leaving.

Porsha looked at his hand as if it were a rash that had suddenly appeared on her arm. “If you want more you gotta pay for more.”

“I can dig it, baby. Money ain’t no thing.” He fanned out the singles he had left in his hand. “Just let me know what the ticket is?”

“One song for twenty and three for fifty,” she told him, eyeing the money hungrily.

The young man thought on it for a minute. “Yeah, all that shit is cool, but what if I wanted something a li’l more intimate?” He was trying to sound suave but the alcohol had his words slurring.

Porsha frowned. “Nah, daddy, it ain’t that type of party.”

“Not even for two hundred?” he asked.

As bad as Porsha could’ve used the money, she wasn’t about to sell her pussy. “Like I told you, I don’t get down like that. If you wanna fuck, then you might wanna get at one of these other chicks to see if they can help you out.” She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her again, this time more forcefully.

“C’mon, ma, stop acting like that. I know you could use the paper or else why would you be in here shaking your ass in the middle of the day. Check it, let’s not play games. I got a stack for you if you break out with me and my niggaz right now.” He pulled a large knot of money from his pocket and set it on the table.

Porsha looked at the money as if it were a steaming pile of shit. “You got me fucked up. I tried to tell you nicely, but let me say it to you in a language that maybe your drunk ass will understand: I wouldn’t fuck you for ten stacks, let alone one, so why don’t you save that fake baller-ass game for one of these other bitches because I ain’t beat.” She jerked her arm away.

The young man’s friends burst into laughter, which infuriated him. “Bitch, you better act like you know.” He lunged at Porsha.

She tried to move out of his reach but her heels affected her balance and he managed to grab a fistful of her hair. Porsha dipped under the smack he tried to deliver and left him holding nothing but her wig. Before he could try to swing on her again, Porsha came up holding the razor she’d had stashed in her purse and opened a gash in his forearm. The young man howled in pain as blood sprayed all over the table.

“I got your bitch right here, you lowlife muthafucka.” Porsha swung the razor again. The young man managed to move back in time to save his face but she caught him across the chest. The young man was now as sober as a judge as he watched his blood spill all over the place. Porsha kicked the chair out of the way and charged him, with the razor angled for his throat, but luckily one of the bouncers grabbed her arm before she could connect. While Porsha was being restrained, the young man reached around the bouncer and punched her in the side of the head so hard that she almost blacked out. Before he could swing again, the rest of the bouncers were on him and his crew and proceeded to open up a can of whip ass.

“Oh no, this nigga didn’t just steal on me.” Porsha checked her head to make sure it wasn’t bleeding. She lunged for the young man again, but the bouncer was still holding the hand wielding the razor; however, her legs were still free. Porsha waited until she got a clear shot at his face and drove one of her stiletto heels into his cheek.

“Porsha, chill the fuck out.” The bouncer picked her up by the waist and carried her away from the scuffle.

“Fuck that, he punched me. Let me get mine.” She struggled against him. Her head was throbbing but her rage made her immune to the pain. She was so mad that she tried to turn the razor on the bouncer, which only made the situation worse.

A stripper named Kat, who knew Porsha, rushed to her side. She was a tall brown-skinned chick whose body was almost completely covered in tattoos. “Let her go, I got her,” Kat told the bouncer while trying to break his grip on Porsha’s waist.

By now a crowd had gathered to see what was going on, including the owner, Vinny, and he wasn’t pleased by the mess they had made of his club. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped at Porsha.

“Vinny, chill, it wasn’t her fault,” Kat tried to explain.

“I don’t see anybody else holding a razor and acting like a crazy person,” Vinny said. “Porsha, get your shit. You’re done here.”

“But, Vinny, he tried to swing on her; how you gonna fire Porsha?” Kat snapped.

“Since you wanna be her lawyer, then you can leave with her. Both of you bitches get dressed and get the fuck outta my spot!”

“Fuck you and this whore-shack!” Porsha screamed.

“Don’t argue with that bitch-ass nigga, we got too much class for this joint anyhow.” Kat pulled her by the arm to the dressing rooms.

“This is some bullshit.” Porsha punched one of the lockers in the dressing room.

“Breaking your hand on the locker ain’t gonna change shit, Porsha, just let it go,” Kat said while pulling her bag from the locker on the other side and digging out her street clothes.

“I am so sick of these hole-in-the-wall clubs.” Porsha flopped on the bench and buried her face in her hands.

“Me too, baby girl. When I danced at my brother Marcus’s club Shooters, we didn’t have these kinds of problems.”

“Why’d you stop?” Porsha asked.

Kat shrugged. “When he squared up and married his shorty he shut it down. My brother loved that club, but he loved Billy more.”

“Must be nice.” Porsha sighed.

“What, dancing at Shooters?”

“No, finding love … real love.”

Kat laughed. “That shit is overrated, take it from somebody who knows.”

“This shit is blowing mine. I was depending on the money I make in here to take care of some things I got going on. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?”

“Porsha, you ain’t no stranger to the circuit. In a week you’ll be shaking your ass somewhere else,” Kat assured her.

“In a week it’ll be too late. I need to come up on some paper now!”

Kat could see how stressed out Porsha was and she felt bad for her. “Look, I was gonna keep this li’l bit of info to myself so I could do my thing, but I know a place where you could come up right quick.”

“Kat, I ain’t selling my ass, so if that’s what you’re about to suggest you can forget about it,” Porsha told her.

Kat laughed. “Slow down, Porsha, I ain’t talking about you selling pussy, I’m talking about dancing. There’s a spot that’s having its grand opening tonight and it’s supposed to be a big turnout. The tip out is like a hundred dollars, but from the type of money that’s gonna be floating around in there, that ain’t shit. Besides, you know them Jersey bitches can’t hold a candle to us New York hos.”

“True.” Porsha gave her a high five. “So what’s the name of this spot?”

“It’s called Brick City. Now let me give you the rundown.” Kat proceeded to tell Porsha all about the Brick City grand opening. By the time she was done, Porsha was convinced that that was the place she needed to be.

“Okay, I’m in, but how do I get out there by train?” Porsha asked.

“Ma, you ain’t gotta take the train. My brother Marcus is driving me out there and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind picking you up along the way as long as we kick in for gas and tolls.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Porsha assured her.

“A’ight, so I’ll pick you up about eight o’clock. Just make sure you’re ready because I ain’t trying to miss out on none of this paper.”

“Me either,” Porsha cosigned. “And thanks, Kat. I really appreciate you looking out.”

“It’s all good, Porsha. Maybe one day you’ll be able to do something for me.” Kat looked her up and down seductively. It was no secret among the girls that Kat loved pussy just as much as she did dick, if not more so. “I’m outta here, Porsha. See you tonight.” Kat winked and left.

Porsha sat there and finished dressing in silence, lost in her own thoughts. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, her head began pounding where the dude had hit her. She looked around the cramped, musty dressing room and wondered what the fuck she was doing there. She decided right then and there that if she was going to continue dancing it would only be at upscale spots, because the hood jump-offs were for the birds. As she put the last of her stuff in her bag and prepared to leave, she wondered if Frankie and Sahara were making better progress than she was in trying to solve their problem.