Nasty Girls (2 page)

Shy walked down the block to her friend Jade's apartment. Jade was a year older than Shy, and they'd known each other since they were eight. They went to the same schools and had similar taste in boys. They both loved messing with the young drug-dealing bad boys who flaunted their riches and promised them the world.

Shy knocked hard on Jade's door, and her mother answered.

“Hey, baby girl,” Mrs. Dunken said, greeting her with a smile. Mrs. Dunken, a petite woman, was in her mid-thirties. She had brown skin and short cropped hair.

“Hey, Mrs. Dunken. Jade here?”

“Yeah, she's in her bedroom,” Mrs. Dunken said.

Shy walked into the apartment and down the hall to Jade's bedroom.

“Damn, bitch, you ain't dressed yet?” Shy said teasingly when she saw Jade walking around in her panties and bra.

“Shy, why you at my crib so damn early? You know I don't leave out here till late,” Jade told her. Jade was small, like her mother, with beautiful sleek skin and hazel eyes.

Shy sighed. “My fuckin' pops trippin' again. I had to leave. He actin' stupid and shit.”

“Damn, what he beefin' about this time?” Jade asked.

“Some nigga called my crib at three in the morning. I think it was Raheem's dumb ass. You know that nigga ain't got no fuckin' sense. Now my pops assumin' I'm fuckin' the nigga.”

Jade chuckled. “Bitch, you are.”

“He don't know I'm fuckin',” Shy said. “It ain't none of his fuckin' business. He keep thinkin' I'm gonna end up like my mother.”

Jade peered into her closet, looking for an outfit to wear for the day. Shy sat on Jade's bed.

“Jade, guess who the fuck I ran into on my way here?” Shy said.

“Who?”

“Melanie. Yo, that bitch was gettin' high wit' her man Ray in my building. I caught her junkie ass smokin' crack in the staircase.”

“You know she be suckin' on that glass dick
real
hard,” Jade said as she laid a pair of jeans across her bed.

“Yo, I couldn't believe it. I was like shocked and shit. She was lookin' at me and I was lookin' at her. I know that bitch was embarrassed. Yo, fo' real, Jade, I can't never get like that. Bitches be buggin', smokin' that crack. That shit will fuck you up, fo' real.”

“I know. Her man Ray got her smokin' that shit. That bitch is stupid,” Jade said. “I ain't gonna never let no man do me wrong like that.”

“Word,” Shy said. “We sistas for life. I got your back, and I know you got mines.”

Jade continued to get dressed while Shy flipped through a copy of
Source
magazine.

It was one in the afternoon when both girls left Jade's apartment to roam the streets that hot July day. Both girls wore tight-fitted clothing, Jade in some Guess jeans, and Shy in her Daisy Duke shorts. They both wanted niggas' undivided attention, and that's exactly what they got, making heads turn and cars slow
down to a crawl as they strutted through Jamaica housing projects in Queens.

“Yo, Jade, c'mere fo' a minute,” Kahlil yelled from across the street. He was hanging in front of the corner bodega with his crew.

Jade and Shy didn't hesitate to cross the street. Kahlil was that fly nigga, making his ends for sure. He was dressed down in a white and blue Phat Farm sweatsuit with a thick gleaming gold chain around his neck. Parked in front, was his white BMW 850 convertible.

Jade and Shy walked over to Kahlil and his peoples, craving their attention. But Jade knew that Kahlil was off-limits because Kahlil had been fucking with her moms for over a year now, and he was loving Mrs. Dunken. To Kahlil, Jade was like his little sista, and nothing more.

Both young ladies were all smiles when they walked up to Kahlil and said, “Hey, Kahlil.”

“What up, y'all?” Kahlil said. “Yo, Jade, your moms home?”

“Yeah, she home,” Jade said. “Why?”

“I've been callin' your crib and ain't no one been pickin' up.”

“She probably in the shower. You know how she be when she be up in the bathroom. Got the radio playin' all loud and shit and can't hear a fuckin' thang,” Jade said, wishing he was calling for her.

“A'ight. Ay, yo—y'all comin' to my party tonight, right?” he asked.

“You know it; I ain't tryin' to miss it fo' the world,” Shy said.

“You sure your pops gonna let you out, Shy?” Kahlil joked. “That nigga like boot camp and shit . . . got your young ass on lock.”

“Fuck him. That nigga don't run me. I'm grown.”

Kahlil smiled at her, impressed by her attitude. “Yo, before y'all leave, here's a lil' sumthin' to go shoppin' wit',” Kahlil said, peeling off two hundred-dollar bills from his knot and passing it to Jade and Shy. “Buy sumthin' nice fo' my party tonight.”

Both girls were beaming as they accepted the money. “Thanks,” they said in unison. Then they walked off giggling and talking about Kahlil.

“Girl, I need a nigga like him,” Shy said, stuffing the bill in her pocket. “He would get it every fuckin' night. I would never be stingy wit' the pussy, and he cute. Ummm. I know he got a big dick.”

“Bitch, you better stop talkin' about my mother's man like that. You got Raheem, anyway,” Jade said jokingly.

“And like it would stop you from fuckin' the nigga,” Shy said. “But fo' real, Jade, that's the type of nigga that we need in our life, that get-money, cute, thugged-out, smack a bitch on the ass while he layin' down pipe in a bitch. I'll have his baby.”

Jade laughed. “Bitch, you a ho.”

“For Kahlil, I'll be whatever ho he wants me to be.”

They laughed some more and continued down the block.

The day consisted of flirting with the niggas they liked and hitting up Jamaica Avenue to shop for some skimpy outfits to put on for the party that night.

“Shy, what up, baby girl?” Raheem called out to Shy as he approached her from behind.

Jade and Shy turned around and saw Raheem walking toward them on Jamaica Avenue. Shy caught a slight attitude. “Raheem, what the fuck is wrong wit' you?”

“What you talkin' about, Shy? What you gettin' loud fo'?” Raheem asked.

“My pops trippin' now because you wanna call my crib three o'clock in the fuckin' morning,” Shy told him.

Raheem sucked his teeth. “Fuck your pops; tell that nigga to stop sweatin' a nigga. You my girl, and I'm gonna call you when I feel like it.”

“Yeah, a'ight. That nigga threatenin' to kick me out,” Shy said.

“So, you can come stay wit' me. You know I got you, right?”

“You can't say hi, Raheem?” Jade said with an attitude.

“Hi, Jade,” Raheem said shortly.

“Yeah, fuck you too, nigga,” Jade said sarcastically.

“Just don't call my crib so late anymore,” Shy said.

“A'ight, shorty. Whatever,” Raheem said. “What y'all doin' on the Ave anyway?”

“Shoppin' fo' Kahlil's party tonight,” Shy said. “You comin', right?”

“Yeah, no doubt,” he said.

Raheem put his arm around Shy and walked with her down the Avenue, his pants sagging, wearing a wife-beater and Timbs.

As they walked down the Avenue, Raheem made eye contact with a few young men who passed by them. One of them muttered, “Pussy-ass nigga!” But Raheem just continued to walk down the street with Shy.

“Who them niggas?” Shy asked.

Raheem shrugged it off and said, “Nuthin'. Niggas hatin', that's all.”

In the Coliseum Mall, Shy tried on a pair of jeans while Raheem and Jade stood around waiting. Jade noticed Raheem
gazing at a certain young female and immediately caught attitude.

“Why you starin' so hard at the bitch?” Jade said, getting loud. Jade knew the girl Raheem was clocking so hard. Her name was Camille, and she was a year or two older than Jade. She seemed like the kind of chick who was out to fuck everybody's man.

“Bitch!” Camille snapped back. “Watch your mouth, little girl.” Camille was a pretty girl; five foot eight with a caramel complexion.

“Make me, bitch. You wrong fo' lookin' at Shy's man like that. He don't belong to you!” Jade shouted, causing a scene.

“I wasn't lookin' at the nigga,” Camille said.

Shy, hearing the commotion, walked out the dressing room to see her friend Jade getting into a dispute with Camille. Shy never knew Camille like that—she just noticed her around the way sometimes. To her, Camille seemed cool. She thought Camille was the type of woman who minded her business. Why was Jade arguing with her?

“Chill, Jade,” Shy said, trying to calm her friend.

“Nah, it ain't right fo' that bitch to be starin' at your man like that!” Jade insisted.

By now, the mall security was on the scene, and Jade and Shy had to continue their shopping outside the mall.

Jade calmed down, and both girls continued their shopping without Raheem and without any more drama.

“Jade, I'm gettin' dress at your crib,” Shy said.

“Why?”

“I ain't tryin' to see my pops tonight. I already got my outfit and my shoes. So, I'll just shower up at your crib, get ready, and we can be out.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jade said.

Shy spent the remainder of the day over at Jade's crib, listening to music, talking, and getting ready for Kahlil's party.

Shy wore a red and white halter top with the miniskirt, and Jade sported a similar outfit, wearing a white miniskirt and clear sandals. Both ladies were eye candy for sure.

On their way out, Shy asked Jade why she was beefing with Camille. And Jade's reply was, “That bitch be giving me the funny look sometimes. Like she hatin' on me.”

Shy said not another word about it. They jumped into the cab they had waiting downstairs.

Kahlil's party was jumping off. It was a house party, with everybody partying in the backyard. The whole hood was out, drinking, dancing, and having a good time, as “Put Your Hands Where My Eyes Could See” by Busta Rhymes blared throughout the DJ's huge speakers.

Shy and Jade walked in like divas. They greeted those they knew and then started to get their dance on. Kahlil hosted the party with a bottle of Moët clutched in his hand, and a woman who was not Jade's moms in his other. But Jade didn't get upset. Kahlil was handing her down too much money to beef about him cheating on her moms. Sometimes she wished he was cheating with
her
.

From the corner of her eye, Jade caught Camille socializing with a few people, and she grimaced at the sight of her. Shy looked around for her boyfriend, Raheem, and smiled when she noticed him coming her way.

“Hey, baby,” she greeted, giving him a hug and kiss.

“Let's get out of here fo' a minute,” Raheem suggested.

“But I just got here,” Shy said.

“Yeah, but I got the keys to my man's whip. He lettin' us use it for a minute. I wanna spend some alone time wit' you. You know what I'm saying,” he hinted.

Shy smiled.

“You lookin' good right now, Shy. That skirt is definitely doin' you some justice,” Raheem added.

Shy didn't protest. Raheem took her by the hand and walked off with her to the Ford Explorer parked down the block from the party.

Jade remained at the party. Camille noticed the grimy looks Jade had been giving her, and decided to confront her. Camille walked up to Jade and asked, “Bitch, why you got a problem with me?”

Jade caught an attitude and was ready to fight the bitch. “Why you walk around the projects thinkin' you too good? You ain't nobody.”

“You a little bitch. You don't fuckin' know me. You don't know shit about my life. So don't come up in my face tryin' to judge me, 'cause I'll fuck your little ass up!” Camille shouted.

“
What?
Bring it then, bitch!” Jade yelled back.

But before the two girls could scrap, Kahlil intervened, saying, “Yo, y'all two chill. Don't be fuckin' up my party wit' y'all beef. Leave that shit on the block.”

Both girls glared at each other, knowing not to get Kahlil upset with their problems. So they let their differences be and had peace for the night.

Down the block, a more intimate meeting was taking place. Shy had her miniskirt up around her hips, and her panties on the floor. She straddled Raheem, coming down hard on his eight inches.

“Ahh, fuck me, baby. Ahhh. I missed you,” she panted.

With his pants and boxers around his ankles, he thrust himself into her, grabbing her ass, steaming up the windows of the SUV.

Raheem was deep in some pussy. He panted, “Shy, I wanna take care of you. Come stay wit' me. Fuck your pops. You don't need that nigga.”

Shy bit down on her bottom lip, feeling Raheem push himself deeper and harder into her. She wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. She was excited about the offer. God knew she wanted to move away from home.

“You feel me, Shy? You feel me, right, baby?” Raheem asked, thrusting himself harder into her.

“Oh, I feel you, baby. Yes, I do . . . ,” Shy panted. “You gonna take care of me, right?”

“I promise, baby,” Raheem assured her.

“Oooh, baby, I love you. Please, don't ever let me go,” Shy said, feeling like she was about to melt in Raheem's arms.

Abruptly, the doors to the Ford Explorer flew open, and three men dragged Raheem out of the car and pushed Shy down on the ground.

“What now, nigga!” one of the men shouted, pushing a .357 in Raheem's face.

“What the fuck!” Raheem screamed. He tried pulling up his pants and at the same time tried protecting himself from the blows that suddenly came down on him.

Shy screamed, looking on in horror as three young men beat her boyfriend down. “Stop it! Leave him alone!” she yelled. Then she tried attacking one of the goons, but caught a closed fist to the side of her jaw, knocking her down on her ass.