In My Hood (6 page)

“Untie him and clean him up when you’re finished,” Ishmael said, not looking back as they exited the room.

“Thanks, Ish,” Rallo yelled after him.

Before Ishmael and Derrick reached the front door, they heard the muffled shots echo.

Derrick and Ishmael had been cruising the streets checking on his blocks for about two hours.

“Ishmael, take me by Bev’s crib. My sister needs a new refrigerator.”

“A’ight. I was planning on getting up with Bev sooner or later anyway. I wanted to see if she knew anything about where we could catch up with the twins.”

Derrick nodded and threw his toothpick out of the window and produced a fresh one from the top pocket of his shirt.

Ishmael watched him.

“Damn, man. What you got stock in them shits or something? You fuck around and get ptomaine poison,” he said, laughing.

“Nigga, the way yo’ ass be sucking on violet candy, I know you got a mouthful of rotten teeth by now,” Derrick retorted.

“Naw, man, all thirty-two of my teeth are straight.”

“Well then don’t worry about what I’m doing, nigga. You the one walking around here smelling like a florist,” Derrick cracked.

Ishmael smiled. He had been addicted to the violet candy for years. He’d planned to stop eating them because the candy did mess up the taste of food.

As the men rode in silence, Derrick began to notice Ishmael’s unusual behavior.

“What’s up, Ish?”

“I’m good.”

“Come on and come wit’ it,” Derrick insisted.

Ishmael concentrated on his driving, not saying a word.

“You ain’t gonna spit it? Keep it to yourself then. Keep it all bottled up and shit,” Derrick said sarcastically as he looked out the window, twirling his toothpick.

“It’s Zo,” Ishmael blurted out.

“What about her?”

“I’m tired of her shit.”

“Oh, you think?” Derrick responded nonchalantly.

“Save that shit, Rik. I’m just saying . . . I don’t know, man.”

“I know. I told you about her ass before. She ain’t for you, Ish.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard all that shit before. But she the only down bitch I know,” Ishmael stated.

“Down bitch? Ish, you talking out the side of your neck.”

“I’m gonna give her one more chance to fuck up, and she’s ghost.” He tried to convince Derrick.

Derrick chuckled under his breath. “One more chance, huh?” he stated barely above a whisper.

“I’m for real this time, Rik.”

“Oh, a’ight,” Derrick said, still unimpressed.

Ishmael ignored him and continued driving in silence, his mind racing. He had so much tension building inside his body. Zola was becoming a pain in the ass. There was also the pressure from Leroy and the fact that he got robbed twice last month.
This shit has got to stop,
he thought.

In the game if a nigga in leadership position were caught slipping, he would be considered soft. If it was ever detected that his bitch had him wide open, then it showed a sign of weakness, leaving it open season for all the haters who laid in the cut waiting for him to fuck up.

Although Derrick was his boy, he couldn’t trust anyone. Ishmael had seen it all his life. Partners in crime, do-or-die type niggaz on the come-up and when they did reach the top, greed would eventually take over, and before you knew it, there was a war among friends who at one time swore they would be doggs for life. That’s just how it worked: business was business. Money, street credibility, and respect, without all three you ain’t shit in the game.

Even though he discussed some things with Derrick, he had to make sure that Derrick didn’t know how everything was affecting him because eventually, one day his right-hand man would be the one to fuck him.

They continued to drive in silence while Ishmael was in deep thought.

“Yo, Ish, you can have any bitch on the planet, and you pick ha gold-digging, sack-chasing ass,” Derrick said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Naw, Rik, I don’t trust none of these bitches. Shit, Zola is about the best one out here.”

“Yeah, a’ight, nigga,” Derrick stated, unconvinced.

“For real, man. There ain’t no loyal bitches out there. They all want this paper I got.”

They arrived on Eighteenth Avenue and pulled up in front of Beverly’s house. She was sitting in her usual spot on the porch. Next to her sat her bottle of happiness. This time, unlike any other, she wasn’t alone.

T
he two women sat on the porch in the summer’s night air. It wasn’t so bad, Desiree thought. There were a lot of people out, but like Beverly said, they were on the corner and not in front of where she lived.

There were children running up and down the middle of the street playing while the older boys played football.

The women talked and talked, enjoying the cool breeze that came by once in a while. The mosquitoes were out something fierce. Beverly sent her son to the store to purchase some incense in order to fight off the hungry insects.

Night was starting to fall, and the streetlights that weren’t busted out came on. Desiree lit up a Newport and bobbed her head to the music that was blaring from a boom box that sat on the curb.

A burgundy Lincoln Navigator pulled to the curb in front of the house where the women sat.

“Well I’ll be damned, if it ain’t Ish and Rik,” Beverly stated.

“Who?” Desiree inquired.

“Rik and Ish. You remember them, right? They big time, Rae-Rae. You use to cop from they crew.”

The two men exited the vehicle and made their way toward the porch.

“What do I owe this pleasure, gentlemen?” Beverly asked, exposing her rotting teeth.

“What up, Bev?” Ishmael asked.

Derrick just nodded. Ishmael saw someone he knew down the street. He turned on his heels and headed toward the corner.

Desiree watched him walk away. She was intrigued by his physique. She thought he was quite handsome and felt somewhat attracted to him. She shook the thought off as her true love, Bilal, jumped into her mind. She remembered she’d vowed to never love another. She would remain celibate until she died. She felt he was always in her heart and was watching over her.

“Yo, Bev, let me holla at you for a minute,” Derrick commanded.

Beverly stepped down off the porch to talk to Derrick. The two walked over to the truck for their conversation. Desiree felt out of place. Now that she knew those were the dealers she use to purchase her drugs from, she suddenly felt that familiar funny feeling in her stomach.

Ishmael finally returned from the corner and approached Beverly and Derrick as they talked. He looked up onto the porch and caught Desiree’s eye. She lowered her head, not wanting him to catch her staring at him.

Ishmael took that as his cue to approach the porch. “What’s up, lady?”

“Hey,” she said, not looking into his eyes.

“I never saw you around here before.”

“I’m not from around here. I just got into town, and I’m staying with Bev for a little while.”

Ishmael eased his way up onto the porch and sat next to her. Her heart began to beat faster, causing her to light up another cigarette.

“You shouldn’t be smoking. It’s bad for you,” he said, looking at her, trying to make eye contact. “Yo, Rik, ask Bev about the twins Ron and Don,” he shouted.

Derrick nodded and kept talking to Beverly. Ishmael returned his attention to Desiree.

Once he got a better look at her, he thought she was gorgeous. Her eyes were off the hook. She looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t remember where he had seen her. It was those eyes that had him thinking he’d seen her before.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Desiree.”

“I like that,” he crooned. “My name is Ishmael.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said, still trying to avoid eye contact.

“How long are you going to be staying here?”

“Not long, I hope.”

“You hope? What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m going to school, and once I get a good job, I’ll be getting my own place,” she said, finally looking into his eyes.

“Oh, that’s what’s up. I like a woman who wants to further her education. I feel you,” he said, putting on the charm.

“Let’s ride, Ish,” Derrick said.

“A’ight.” He waved. “So do you got a man?”

“Yes, I have a man,” she stated proudly.

“Well, what kind of a man is he if you’re staying with Bev? If you was my lady, you would have your own shit,” he said, standing.

“Well you’re not my man,” Desiree said with a little attitude.

“I’m just saying. Where he at?”

“He’s around,” she said, not wanting to tell her personal business to a stranger.

“You have a good night lady,” he said, descending the steps.

His whole persona was becoming overwhelming. She felt hot flashes. His smile was worth a million dollars.

Beverly sat back down in her spot on the stoop, and both women watched the two men as they drove off.

“Hey, ho, I seen you and Ish up here kickin’ it.” Beverly looked at her with a smirk.

“No, sweetheart, don’t get it twisted. We were just talking. Ain’t nothing jumping off this way.” Desiree stared at her.

“Why not?”

“Because I have a man.”

“Who, Bunchy?”

“Yeah Bunchy.” Desiree rolled her eyes.

“Please. Rae-Rae, Bunchy is dead. Are you going crazy?” Beverly said a little too loud for Desiree.

She began to look around to see if anyone had heard Beverly’s statement.

“So much for all your sympathy,” Desiree shouted, offended.

“I’m sorry, Rae-Rae, but listen to yourself. Bunchy is gone on home now, and you can’t stop living because of it. If he were alive, I’m sure he would tell you to go on with your life. He was just that type of a man.”

“I can’t do it, Bev. I never had any closure with him. I feel like he’s still very much alive and watching my every move to see my loyalty.”

Beverly looked at her with unsure eyes.

“Rae-Rae, what the hell are you saying? Ain’t no coming home for Bunchy, girl...” Beverly cut her sentence short after realizing that Desiree was straight tripping.

“Listen, Bev,” Desiree said, interrupting her friend’s thoughts. “I know it sounds crazy, but you don’t understand . . . hell, I don’t even understand. It’s...it’s just a feeling that I have. I feel like I would be cheating on him. You know what I’m saying?”

“Rae-Rae, you can sit here and dry up if you want. Bunchy ain’t never coming home. You’re gonna waste your life. Shit, by the time you realize what’s going on, you gon’ be old as dust and all dried up and shit.”

Desiree sat heavy in thought. Although she wasn’t elated by the way Beverly dissed Bilal, she believed Beverly was just drunk and couldn’t comprehend.

While in prison, she had promised Bilal she would hold him down, even though he told her in many of his letters to move on with her life. She just couldn’t do it. Bilal had taught her so much, and she wanted to be his ride-or-die chick. But she often wondered how far did a woman go when doing the bid with her man. Even if the man was dead.

“I’m saying, Rae-Rae, alright I feel you. I know you love him and want to be there for him, but he’s gone. Keep him near and dear in your heart, but at least move on with your life. You’re a beautiful woman, and you can just about do anything you want. Why waste it grieving over a man who’s been dead for more than two years?”

Beverly finished off her bottle, tapping the bottom as if more would magically appear.

Desiree watched her do this. She often wondered how Beverly could drink so much. She couldn’t imagine her feeling any different after drinking. Beverly seemed to be drunk all the time, even when she wasn’t drinking.

“But to be straight with you,” she blurted out loudly, scaring Desiree, “I would be doing me if I were you.” Beverly tossed the bottle into the bushes. “And if a fine mafucka like Ish was pushing up on me? She-it, I would be on his ass like white on rice.”

“Bev, he’s a baller, and like I told you before, I need to stay away from that shit.”

“Damn, Rae-Rae. You ain’t gotta get high to be with him. That mafucka is laced. Do you hear what I’m saying to you? That mafucka right there is your ticket outta the ghetto.”

“No, Bev, I’m gonna go to school and get my own ticket out.”

“Yeah, alright, be stupid if you want to,” she said, taking one of Desiree’s cigarettes without asking.

Beverly continued to try and reason with Desiree, but it was of no use. Desiree had her mind made up. She was going to stick to the script.

***************

Desiree laid in her bed thinking about the knowledge that Bilal held. He was smarter than the average man. Bilal was so intelligent that people would come up to their apartment to get high and listen to his philosophy. The young boys from the corners would come up to their apartment to bag up or just plain take a break just to listen to Bilal’s wisdom.

O
ne night one of the local runners name Luke came up to the apartment. Desiree sat on the living room floor, scraping residue from the pipe, and Bilal sat rocking back and forth on the sofa. He was sick and needed a fix bad. They had no money and no means of a hustle to cop. Bilal wasn’t a thief, and he refused to allow Desiree to sell her body for it like the other drug-abused women did. As he sat on the sofa feeling like he wanted to vomit and shit at the same time, there was a knock at the door. His body ached so badly he could barely walk over to it. Finally reaching the door, he opened it and let the young boy in. He shivered and held his stomach, hoping the boy was there to do business and pass off a little something to him.

“Wisdom, what’s good?” the boy shouted as he walked into the apartment, calling Bilal by the name some of the boys had given him.

“What’s up?” Bilal asked.

“I need to bag up some product. Is it a’ight?”

“Yeah sure, come on in. You got something for me, right? You know there’s a fee to use my place,” Bilal stated, trying to keep himself from regurgitating in front of the boy.

“Fo’ sure, Wisdom. You know I got you.”

Bilal and Desiree charged anyone who came into their apartment no matter what they came to do in order to support their habits. They only received a small amount of money and food stamps each month from welfare for Bilal who was on permanent disability from the state.