Hustlin' Divas (17 page)

“My, um, ride seems to have left me stranded,” I toss into the silence. “I guess I'll just have to hang around here a little longer.”

Python finally shrugs his big shoulders. “Or I could give you a lift home.”

My full lips bloom into a bright smile. I recognize an opportunity when I see it. “Thanks. I'd love a ride home.”

“Y
ou're going where?” Essence asks, staring and blinking at me like a deer caught in the headlights.

“I'm going to a party with Profit,” I say, twirling around in front of my bedroom mirror. “And don't you dare rat me out to my parents. I told them we're going to the mall to shop for prom dresses.”

Essence shakes her head and starts backing toward the door. “Nah. Nah. I don't want my name involved in none of this shit.”

I glance up and see that she's serious. “E, don't punk out on me.” I rush over and pull her back over to the bed. “I really, really need you.”

“No. You need to get your head examined. Haven't you been in enough trouble as it is? I mean, damn, girl. Do you need a brick building to fall on your head? You're going to a party where it's gonna be wall-to-wall Vice Lords
and
you asked that nigga to the prom?”

“Look, everybody knows we're together now. There's no reason for us to keep creeping. I'm Profit's woman. Now and forever. People need to start getting used to it.”

“People meaning your sister?” Essence challenges.

“Especially my sister,” I say. “It's past time for me to take a stand and live my life the way I want to live it. She made her choices, and now it's time that I make my own.”

“Uh-huh. What happened to all those
other
dreams? You know, about becoming a doctor? You hardly come to school anymore, and when you do, you cut class. You got an F in biology this quarter. Damn. At least I got a D.”

I don't want to hear none of this shit right now, and I can't believe that I have to beg my best friend to have my back right now. “Don't stress me, E. Tracee and Reggie have already done that.”

She folds her arms and taps her foot like she my second mother or something. “And what did they say?”

“Are you for real?”

Essence just stares me down while her neck snakes like a cobra.

“I promised them that I'll get my grades up this quarter—and I will. Good Lord, it's like my first bad report card since I've been here. Cut me a break.”

E is still shaking her head at me. “You're tripping, Ta'Shara. That nigga got you straight sprung, and you ain't thinking clearly no more. You used to know how this shit works. You used to know how many niggas have been dropped because of fucked-up street politics. It doesn't matter that you're not in the game. It doesn't matter that Profit's not in the game. You're both fuckin' pawns because of blood. GD versus VL. That shit don't mix.”

“Pawns?”

“Yes, pawns, bitch. I know a thing or two about chess. And I know enough to know that you are in a fucked-up situation,
but
if you're as smart as your damn GPA used to suggest, then you'll cut this nigga loose until y'all can roll up out of this city.”

I ain't trying to hear this shit. She's just making a mountain out of a molehill. “Look. I understand your concern and I appreciate it. I really do, girl. But I gotta start taking a stand for the things that I want—and I want to be Profit's girl. There's plenty of niggas whose families are in different gangs. This is no different.”

“Different gangs?” E snatches her arm away from me. “You're thinking about joining the Vice Lords? You're going to become a Flower?”

“No. That's not what I'm saying.”

“That's exactly what you just said.” She jams her hands against her hips and stares me down like I'm something that just slithered out from under a rock. “You become a Flower, bitch, we enemies. Real talk.”

“How can you say that? Profit has been cool with you from day one. Has he dropped dime about that gun? Has he told anyone that you were there at the hospital that night?”

Panic lights my girl's eyes. “And he better not either.”

“He won't. Nobody is ever going to know. You got my word on that. I just need you to help me out right now. I'd do it for you.”

Essence doesn't look convinced.

“I'm
not
joining the Vice Lords. I swear.”

She still hesitates like I'm asking her to give me her damn kidney. “And we will
never
be enemies,” I add. “Never.”

At last, Essence draws a deep breath. “Girl, I sure hope that you know what you're doing.”

I do, too.

 

Twenty minutes later, Essence pulls up outside the food court at Wolfchase Mall. No sooner do I step out of her beat-up Ford Escort than Profit pulls up in a sweeeet as fuck silver Range Rover with some crazy-ass rims that has every nigga in the parking lot checking out his ride.

“Hey, sexy. You want a ride?” Profit hits me with his perfect white smile and deep-pitted dimples while he turns down the bass bumping from his speakers. He's looking really fine with just a pair of black jeans, a fresh white T, and a single gold chain looped around his neck.

“Way not to draw attention to yourself,” I criticize, reaching for the passenger door and hopping inside.

“What's the problem?” he asks as I settle into my seat. “I thought we were busting out of the closet? You haven't changed your mind, have you?”

Despite the knots looping in my stomach, I shake my head. “No.” I lean over the armrest and kiss those juicy lips I love so much. Maybe Essence is right; this nigga really has my ass sprung like nobody's business. “I want the world to know that I'm your girl.” The moment I say the words, I imagine LeShelle's head exploding and I just don't give a fuck. It's my life and she needs to fall the hell back.

 

We can hear the party long before we roll down Ruby Cove. Even though I spent the last couple of days preparing myself for this moment, my nerves are frayed and I'm chewing on my nails. What the hell was I thinking? What if some shit pops off and Profit can't protect me? My razor game is tight, but I can't fight off an army of Vice Lords and Flowers.

Profit takes one glance at me and starts laughing. “Chill, baby girl.” He takes my hand and brushes a kiss against my knuckles. “It's gonna be all right. Ain't nobody going to trip. You're my guest. Everybody is gonna be cool.”

“Fat Ace is going to be there?”

“Better be. He's the one who's throwing me the party.”

“Throwing you…?” I turn in my seat. I thought we were just going to a regular block party. “What's the occasion? Your birthday isn't until July twenty-third.”

His smile broadens as he kisses my hand again. “Glad to see that you memorized it.”

“And what's mine?”

“Ummm.”

I snatch my hand way. “You better be playing.”

“May fourth.” He winks at me. “Now don't you feel stupid?”

“No—because it's May fifth.” I reach over and mush him in the head. “Just like a nigga to not pay attention.”

“You mean kind of like how my birthday is July twenty-
sixth
?”

Okay. Now I feel stupid. “I knew that. I was just testing you.”

“Uh-huh.”

I roll my eyes but then crack up at our ridiculous argument. I just played myself.

Old throwback cars line the curbs and driveways like Ruby Cove is just one huge car lot. Music blasts from all directions as every car and house crank up the bass. I try to take in the crowd, but there's so many niggas flagging and littering the yards that I just give up.

“Now there he go. Lil man and his lady,” Fat Ace says, strutting slowly toward us from the yard in a Michael Jordan jersey and lily-white sneakers.

Just like last time, my heart damn near stops when I see Fat Ace's thick, muscled legs eat up the space between us. I still can't get over how massive and intimidating this man is. It's clear that he has mad respect, because every nigga's eye turns and head nods as he strolls by. I step closer to Profit and draw in a deep, steadying breath while the brothers exchange dabs.

“What's up, fam? I see you finally made it.”

“Was there ever any doubt?” Profit cheeses and looks around the yard that's chock-full of Vice Lords. “We mobbin' deep today, huh?”

“All day, every day.” Fat Ace takes off his shades, and his mismatched eyes shift in my direction. “What's up, lil lady? You can't speak?”

My face burns with embarrassment as I squeeze out a nervous “Hi.”

Fat Ace laughs. “Don't be nervous. Chill. Make yourself at home, girl.”

He plucks me from behind Profit and wraps a large arm around my shoulders. I feel like a puny no. 2 pencil getting ready to snap. “Drinks are in the house, and my nigga Bishop is burning it up on the barbeque. Trust me, he got mad skills.”

I just nod along while the big man half walks and half drags me across the yard and introduces me to Lucifer, the pretty chick I saw the night of the hospital shooting.

“Trust me,” Fat Ace brags. “Ain't no nigga's gangsta tighter than my girl right here. She saved my life that night at the hospital.”

Lucifer nods her head toward me, but a smile doesn't crack her lips. She sort of reminds me of a taller Laila Ali: just as beautiful as she is tough. I'm introduced to a few more people in their crew as Profit's “lil lady” and can't help but blush every time. With everyone's eyes following Fat Ace, it also means everyone is looking at me, too. Then I see Qiana's ass glaring at me from across the way. I ain't seen her ass since I sliced her up at school, and no lie the bitch looks fucked up. The gashes on the sides of her face are black with these weird jagged stitches. It makes me wonder if she'd bothered going to the hospital or if she stitched the shit up herself. When she leans over and whispers to a couple of girls next to her, I get nervous again.

A few minutes later, I'm being handed a plate of some bomb-ass barbeque ribs, chicken, potato salad, and baked beans. “I can't eat all of this,” I whisper to Profit. “I'll bust open.”

He just laughs. “Wait until you taste it. You'll be back over here begging for more.”

We find a pair of patio chairs in the backyard. Brothers constantly try to lure Profit into different card and domino games, but he refuses to leave my side. An hour later, I'm full, relaxed, and am getting only an occasional side eye when I pass up toking on the various joints that are being passed around.

Droopy, named so because his eyes are always so low that he looks like he's sleeping, tries to insist. “C'mon, girl. You better get yourself some of this here. This is some of that Super Skunk. Shit's smooth. It'll have your ass feeling like you're a muthafuckin' astronaut.”

“No thanks.” I smile and huddle closer to Profit.

“What, man. Your girl a square or some shit?”

“Nah, Droopy. Just go on with that.” Profit brushes a kiss across my forehead and then passes me some mysterious punch in a red plastic cup. “You having a good time, baby?”

“Yeah. It's cool. Um, I gotta go to the bathroom.”

“Bottom floor, down the hall. You need me to go with you?”

I want to say yes, but I don't want it to look like I need to be treated like a child. “Nah. I got it. I'll be right back.” The minute I walk away from him, I feel like a dead woman walking. Every bitch in my line of vision is following my every step. For a couple of seconds, I think about holding my piss and just asking to leave, but then I think about what LeShelle would do in this situation, and I know her ass would just thrust up her chin and dare any one of these bitches to say shit to her. I stiffen my spine, copy my sister's swagger, and enter the house.

Nobody says shit to me. In the bathroom, after I empty my bladder and wash my hands, I take a few seconds to assess myself in the mirror. I look good with my MAC makeup still looking boss, my titties high, and my round ass filling out my jeans nicely. Real talk, I look better than the majority of the girls here. Smiling, I walk out the door and run straight into Qiana.

For a moment we're like two bitches in the Wild Wild West, staring each other down and waiting to draw our blades. I know this bitch is just itching to make a move by the slight twitch under her right eye.

“Is there a problem back here?” Lucifer barks.

When we don't answer, she turns down the hall and strolls toward us. “Don't make me repeat myself.”

“Everything is cool.” Qiana steps back but her eyes tell me that the shit isn't over—not by a long shot.

“Yeah?” Lucifer glances at me.

“Yeah,” I confirm. “We were just catching up.” I step around both Qiana and Lucifer and take my time switching my ass back out to my man. However, in the yard, everyone has formed a ring around Profit and some thick redbone nigga who is taking his shirt off. “What's going on?”

“Your boy is finally about to become a man, nahwhatImean?” Droopy pounds his chest and puffs out a cloud of smoke. “It's about fuckin' time if you ask me.”

My heart drops. Is Profit about to get
jumped in
to the Vice Lords? I push my way through the crowd, determined to stop this, but I don't get more than a couple steps before Fat Ace effortlessly pulls me to his side. “This don't concern you, lil lady.”

“Don't concern me? Everything about him concerns me.” I try to push out of his arm, but of course it's useless.

“I hear what you're saying and it's cool that you're feeling my brother like this, but ain't nobody here twisting his arm. He knows he can't ride my coattails forever. A nigga on these streets need protection and a street family. And that some real shit. Profit could've got some real time over what happened at the hospital that night, and in the joint, blood carries you only so far. Niggas got to have they own connect—they own reputation. You feel me?”

I push and shove, but it's the sound of bone hitting bone that draws my attention back to the circle. Profit holds his own for a few swings, but it's soon clear that he's outmuscled by his opponent. Now, instead of trying to shove away from Fat Ace, I'm actually wincing and clinging to him.