Money-Makin' Mamas (8 page)

“It's me, Ray. Chyna.”

Less than ten seconds later, I heard a firecracker sound pop five times through my speakerphone. I tightened my stomach to cool the queasy feeling I had, but when I heard Chyna's voice, I could tell everything had gone as planned.

“Done,” was all she said.

“Good. Now come home. Mama got something real good waiting for you.”

“I don't want fish,” she said. “I want chicken.”

Yeah, sometimes my daughters were some ungrateful bitches, but I loved them nonetheless. “Chicken it is then,” I said. “Anything you want.”

Right then and there, Chyna had earned her badge of honor from me. We never told Simone or Karrine shit, and when they heard about Ray being killed, they took the news real hard. Even at his funeral they could barely look at him and they couldn't stop crying. With my black silk dress on that squeezed my size forty double-Ds and cut above my knees, I had no problem looking at him. While nobody was looking, I leaned down into his casket and pretended to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. Instead, I spat in that motherfucker's face and said good riddance to the nigga I hated the most on this earth.

“Mama!” I yelled from the bottom stair while looking up at her bedroom. She said she was going to take a shower, but I needed some answers right here and now.

I had been in downtown Chicago at a new nightclub that had just opened last night, and I saw Ray's down chick, Tracy, who Simone had beef with. She and a gang of bitches she was with started looking my way, but since Simone or Chyna didn't go with me, I was pretty much on my own. My girl, Lylah, was with me, but she wasn't the type of bitch to have my back. Only my sisters were, so I knew when it was smart for me to clamp my mouth shut and make a move before some shit went down. On my way out, one of the chicks whispered some noise in my ear about Chyna killing Ray. And when I asked Chyna what was up a few minutes ago, she jerked her head in another direction and refused to answer me.

Something was up. I could feel it. The rule was for us to never lie to each other and all I wanted to know was the truth. Shit like that didn't just hit the streets out of nowhere. Somebody knew something and the best person to shut this noise down was Mama.

She didn't answer me when I yelled up the winding staircase that led to her bedroom, but I could hear the shower running. I went back into my room where Simone was typing something on the computer, and Chyna's big booty self was lying across my bed still ignoring me. There was no question that I loved my older sister to death, but I could never take her lying to me. We weren't supposed to get down like that, so I asked her again what the fuck the chick with Tracy was talking about.

Chyna tossed her braids to the side and sat against the headboard on my queen-sized bed that was accessorized with a metallic gold ensemble. I had a thing for gold and 70 percent of all my clothes and shoes had a hint of gold in them. Even my Mercedes that I referred to as the love of my life was gold. It was like that for me, and Mama hated it because she thought the color gold did me no justice. I was lighter than my other two sisters. They were a delightful chocolate brown. My hair was nearly shaved off, but what little I did have had a blond tint. My thin, almond-shaped eyes lured in many niggas, and the look in my seductive eyes benefited me in my profession. I could make a nigga bust a nut just from him staring into my eyes. My brows looked painted on and were perfectly arched. I was the only sister who went with the natural look and weave didn't do shit for me. As for makeup? Not a drop of it was needed, but I sometimes used foundation to cover up a black mole on my cheek that was sexy, but too noticeable.

“I wish you would stop askin' me questions about Ray,” Chyna said, flipping through a magazine. “Whoever fucked him up is probably long gone. All I can say is it wasn't me.”

“Come over here and look at this,” Simone whispered and interrupted us talking. She was still on the Internet and had been for the last hour.

We rushed over to see what was up. What we saw was a $2,000 deposit that had gone into Simone's bank account. For somebody to pay her that kind of money, they wanted something heavy to go down. We all made a decent living doing video porn and paper had been falling down on us like rain.

I had my own Web site and Chyna and Simone had theirs. Then we had a combined Web site where all three of us provided a service all at once. It was no secret that Chyna made the most money, then I did. Simone had some catching up to do, and there were times when we competed against each other to see who could make the most paper. Most of the time Chyna won. Simone had won one or two times, but I was never far behind. My body was sculptured like a Coca-Cola bottle and my ass wasn't no jumbo booty, but it was perfect. Simone wasn't as blessed as me and Chyna was, but Mama didn't raise no chicks who couldn't use what they had to make the kind of money we'd been bringing in.

The good thing about Internet porn was we didn't have to get physical with nobody and we avoided getting any sexually transmitted diseases. All we had to do was put on a show and bring pleasure to the men who watched us from the other side and, sometimes, gave us orders to do things that pleased them.

These men consisted of drug dealers, married men, politicians, athletes: you name it. Our clientele was thick. Most of the escapades took place after nine o'clock at night and there were times when we'd be up until three or four in the morning showing off what Mama had blessed us with.

“Two thousand dollars,” I said, reading limited instructions the man who went by the name of Honey had left Simone. He wanted her all to himself at ten o'clock sharp tonight.

I playfully pushed her shoulder. “Girl, you'd better work hard for that money, especially if he payin' like that. Ain't no tellin' how much his next offer may be.”

“Right,” Chyna said. “And if you need any tips, be sure to let me know. I'll show you how to work it, no doubt.”

Chyna popped her booty and we all laughed. I swear I loved my sisters. The profession we were in didn't bother us one bit, and there wasn't too many people who could actually say they loved their job. Even though I wasn't a virgin, Simone claimed that she still was. She said that she was saving herself for the right nigga to come along, but she didn't know her business was already in the streets. She'd fucked a baller named Reno, and he told everybody that he'd busted Simone's cherry. She didn't know that we knew what was up, and for sisters who weren't supposed to lie and keep secrets from each other, I guessed there were some things we were willing to keep to ourselves.

If Mama had any say-so about men, none of us would have any relationships at all. Whenever we did hook up with somebody we had to do that shit on the side. No serious dating was allowed, but that was no problem for me because I hadn't met anybody who tickled my fancy enough and made me want to fall in love with them. Neither had Chyna. Then again, she was known for doing sneaky shit that nobody ever knew about. If you asked she'd tell you, but what you didn't ask you were left to assume.

“I gotta find me somethin' real sexy to wear,” Simone said, pulling her weaved-in long and wavy hair over to one shoulder. She smiled while looking at the computer monitor and seemed excited about the $2,000 payout that would only cost her thirty minutes of her time.

“What y'all doing in there?” Mama asked as she came into the room with her housecoat on. She had a slight cold because the weather in Chicago kept changing by the day. One day it was snowing, the next day it was hot enough to go swimming and walk your dog in the park.

Simone pointed to the computer monitor, showing Mama her recent deposit. Mama's eyes grew big. “Damn! Who did that?”

“His name is Honey. This my first time seein' his deposit, but I'll get a chance to check him out tonight.”

Yep, Mama knew how we got down. Who in the hell do you think hipped us to this shit? She used to do it, and it was nothing for Mama to make anywhere from $5,000 to $10,000 a week, shaking her ass in front of the computer and teasing men. She still did a little something every now and then, but since we were banking together about $10,000 a week, Mama could lay low and depend on us to hold things down for her. She never asked for one penny of our money. What little we did give to her, it helped pay the bills.

“Make sure I see him before you do your thing,” Mama said. “I want to make sure it ain't the same nigga Honey I had some dealings with before.”

“Honey who?” I asked. “Why you always talking in circles? And what kind of dealings are you talking about?”

“I meant Harry, not Honey, so forget what I said. And if anybody be talking in circles, that would be you, not me.”

Mama ignored me then looked at Simone. She got up from the chair, rushing into her walk-in closet to see what she could put on that was overly sexy.

“Did you hear me callin' you earlier, Miss Lady?” I said to Mama.

She sat on my bed and lit a cigarette. While holding it with her perfectly manicured nails, she took a puff from the Virginia Slim then whistled smoke into the air. “I ain't heard nothing. What did you want?”

I crossed my arms, displaying a little attitude. “I got a question for you. Do you know anything about Ray's murder? Word on the street is Chyna had somethin' to do with it. I hope that ain't true.”

Mama's eyes shifted to Chyna then she blinked and looked down at her nails.

I stomped my foot and pouted. “Come on, Mama, tell me the truth. I need to know what's up. I hope to God it ain't true.”

“And what if it was?” Chyna said. Her voice was laced with much attitude and seriousness was washed across her face. “What difference does it make? He wasn't shit no way, and what did he ever do for us? I can't believe you and Simone shed all those tears at that man's funeral. Whoever knocked his ass off, good for them.”

Mama held a smirk on her face, as if Ray's death pleased her to the fullest. Simone saw it too, and she eased out of the closet to listen in. She pretended to be on the shy side, but I knew better. Money made her loosen up, and she got the biggest thrill out of how we made a living.

“Don't be talkin' about Ray like that,” I said to Chyna. “At the end of the day he was our daddy. He may not have been the best father in the world but—”

Mama's smirk vanished. She quickly cut me off and raised her voice. “Karrine, stop talking about that man like he was some goddamn saint. That nigga didn't do nothing for y'all, and I'm with Chyna on this. Whoever shot his ass, good for them. They did all of us a favor. Now, I don't want to hear shit else about it.”

I was getting angry. Talking about Ray like that was a touchy subject because he, at least, gave us money when we didn't have nothing. Mama didn't always do her thing on the Internet, and when we were little, I remember how rough shit was. Ray was the one who brought paper into the house and put food on the table. He kept a roof over our heads, even though the tiny apartment we lived in was fucked up.

“Okay, fine,” I said, walking over to my bed and sitting on it. “Now that both of y'all got that off y'all's chests, can somebody be honest with me about what really happened to Ray? I can tell by the look in y'all eyes that something ain't right around here when his name comes up.”

While giving me a hard stare, Mama tightened her lips around the tip of the cigarette to suck in more smoke. She blew the smoke into my face, and then got up and left the room. Chyna rolled her eyes at me and followed Mama. All Simone did was shrug her shoulders, and then she went back into the closet to search for something to put on.

Chyna and Mama had gone to the kitchen, so I went in there, only to see them whispering to each other. I interrupted their conversation.

I folded my arms, still edging them on about what had happened to Ray. “We don't keep secrets, do we? We don't lie to each other, do we? We protect each other and have each other's backs, don't we? I thought that's how it was. And what about you sayin' there will be no surprises?”

“Karrine, please don't do this,” Mama said, standing by the kitchen counter. “For the last time, just let it go.”

I pounded my fist against my leg. “I don't want to let it go. I need to know the truth and somebody needs to tell me what that is right now.”

I pouted more, even though I could see the devilish gaze in Mama's eyes that I didn't like to see.
Man, just tell me what the fuck is going on and be done with it. Is it that hard to do?
The answer was either yes or no.

As Mama started to fire back at me, Simone came into the kitchen with a black teddy thrown across her arm.

“Do you really and truly want to know the truth?” Mama hollered out. “I don't think you're ready for it, especially since you think your fucking daddy was all that!”

“I'm not sayin' he was all that!” I bravely yelled back. “What I'm sayin' is he didn't deserve to be shot by no coldblooded killer! I want to know if my sister is that damn coldblooded, where she can shoot her own father in the chest five motherfuckin' times!”

Mama yanked on the kitchen drawer to open it, and then snatched a knife from inside of it. She charged up to me then placed the sharp blade against the side of my neck. From the corner of my eye, I could see Simone shaking and standing in fear. She didn't dare move another inch and neither did I. Sweat started to dot my forehead and anger crept up on me so fast that I almost couldn't hold back. Chyna moved closer and reached out to try to remove the knife from Mama's hand.

“Back the fuck up,” Mama yelled at Chyna. “If this heifer wants the truth, I'ma give it to her. But before I do . . .” She pressed the blade harder against my neck. More sweat had started to form on my forehead and it dripped along the sides of my face. I didn't dare move. Barely wanted to breathe. If I did move, there was a chance the blade would slice me.

Mama spoke through gritted teeth. “Don't you ever raise your voice at me again. You got that, bitch?”

I slowly nodded. The one thing none of us did was play around with Mama. I must've been tripping when I raised my voice. She didn't deal with disrespect. There were very few times that I'd tried her, but I wound up getting my feelings hurt. For now, all I wanted to find out was the truth about Ray. Finally, she spilled it.

“The truth and nothing but the truth is Ray wasn't shit and he deserved to die. You weren't there, Karrine, when he put his dick in my child's mouth and make her swallow his goddamn semen. You weren't there when he stole her innocence, fucked her in the ass, and made her bleed, so how dare you stand there and defend that son of a bitch! For years, I wanted to kill that motherfucker myself, but I couldn't do it. And if my baby girl found the guts to wipe that nigga off the face of the earth, so be it. What you need to know is we will not be having this conversation again. Chyna doesn't owe anybody an explanation about what she did and why! Do you got that, heifer? 'Cause if you don't, it's gon' be me and you. I doubt that you want that to happen.”