Girls from da Hood 14

by Treasure Hernandez

  I was terrified. His tone was one that meant business. I was confused about what was truly going on; yet, whatever this person was after, I damn sure wasn’t about to be the one to deny him. Doing as demanded of me, I started for the alley with my hands to the sky, praying not to get shot. Stubbornly, the old man wasn’t going for it.

  “You young punk. I wish to hell I would let you take something off me. Don’t let these glasses fool you.” Ready to battle, he snatched off his blue blockers and bounced back into a boxer stance as if he had a death wish.

  “Look here, old man, don’t make me shoot you in the stomach. Now, I said, get yo’ ass to the alley—now!”

  Fearing no man or beast, he bent down and pulled up his creased pants leg. I was ready to piss on myself when he revealed an ankle holster with a .38 Special tucked inside. This evening was gearing up to be the most dangerous one I’d spent on the streets of Detroit since moving here. I was a nervous wreck, but strangely still had a thirst and desire for the old man’s wallet. Seeing the diversion of a surprise second weapon making its untimely presence, I found a bit of courage. I reached over, making my move for the wallet, hoping I could sprint away while the two of them argued about who was going to shoot who first. In theory, it may have sounded like a halfway decent plan, but as luck would have it, things didn’t go that way. The old man whizzed around, focusing on me now. Not only had some random dude caught me slipping . . . but also, now, the old man had caught me with my hand in the cookie jar. I was busted and stunned. There was no way possible that this situation could get any worse. But in mere seconds, as I held his wallet tightly, it did just that.

  “Oh, so I get it. What’s this, a setup, or something? That’s all right, you wait yo’ ass right there too,” he ordered with certainty as he bent over, reaching for his gun. “Yeah, I got something for both you and your sneaky li’l girlfriend.”

  This was it. I knew I was well on my way to either going to jail or hell. Tears formed, knowing my mother would have to receive a fucked-up phone call about my whereabouts. God, please, please, please, get me outta this. If you do, I promise I will change my ways. I hoped the man up above was listening to me blatantly lie about my future intentions but would help me out anyway. I was elated when my prayers were somewhat answered.

  A thunderous blaze erupted. The old man was hit square in his ass. I could hear him screaming out that he’d been shot as I fled the scene. Wisely, I’d made a run for it. There was no need for me to stand idly by and wait to see if the mysterious gunman would make me his next target.

  I barreled down the deserted, litter-filled alley, and my heart raced. I never had asthma before, but at that moment, I was struggling to breathe. I wheezed while praying that I didn’t take a slug in the back from either of the two persons in possession of pistols. Nearing a dilapidated garage, I was going to duck behind the half-standing structure to catch my breath. Yet, shockingly, I discovered I was not alone. I glanced over my shoulder and suddenly found the energy to pick up my pace. As I ran full speed down the alley, ole boy was on my heels, gun in hand. There was no way I was going to be shot in an alley left to bleed out and die or maybe raped. I had to get out into the open, even if it meant the police seeing me.

  Intent on living to see the next day, I hopped the next gate into someone’s backyard. Just as I thought I was home free—I was proven wrong. The shooter must have had horse in his blood because he cleared the gate with no hands right behind me. At that point, I was done. I couldn’t go on. I was exhausted. My only option was to hope for a miracle.

  I stopped dead in my tracks and quickly turned around. With my hands reached up to God, I begged for mercy, taking a few steps back. “Please, don’t kill me, please, please.”

  “Kill you? Naw, I ain’t on that tip right now,” he said, tucking the gun in his waist. Then he removed his hood.

  My heart skipped two beats. I was shocked all the way around, not expecting what I was seeing. It was then that I realize that he was actually a she. The oversized clothes were just a front, although her voice still remained on the deep, raspy side. “Damn, thank you,” I stammered, not knowing what else to say or do.

  Momentarily, she paused, then looked around like, “You hear that?” Police sirens filled the air, and it was apparent that they were getting closer. “Come on, girl, we gotta get outta here before they box us in,” she urged, pulling on my shirt.

  Say what? Huh? We? When did I become a we? Girl, I don’t know yo’ crazy ass. I don’t even know why you following me in the first place. I stood there with a blank expression. But since this female did have that big-ass gun and had just shot the old man, I guess the loon was running shit. So, also taking into consideration I didn’t want to get knocked, I took off running full speed toward the street. My new partner in crime, of course, was trailing close behind.

  Oh shit. My heart sank as a Detroit police car roared up the block with its lights flashing. I took a deep breath and said my prayers. I just knew we were on our way to jail, but God had other plans. The squad car blew past. I glanced over at her as to say, “Damn, that was close.”

  Committed to getting all the way out of Dodge, we jogged side by side for several blocks. With her now taking the lead, she cut down the alley and came out through a vacant lot. At that point, I was all turned around, not knowing the neighborhood that well. I was exhausted as she practically dragged me by the arm up the stairs of a seemingly abandoned dwelling.

  “Yo, sis, hurry up, hurry up. We gonna be good now,” she happily announced, closing the door behind us.

  We entered a kitchen, and I leaned against a filthy, plate-filled sink with my face buried in my arm, gasping for air and licking my dry lips. I looked up to see this girl peeking out the kitchen window into the yard.

  “So, wow, I think we shook ’em,” she said, releasing the curtain and turning to face me.

  Only then did I realize that I’d followed this nut right into a death trap. That weird hunger I had seen earlier back in the alley had returned to her eyes as she smoked me over. I stood up and pleaded my case like a habitual convict fighting a murder case. “Look, seriously, I don’t want any problems. If it’s the money you want, it’s yours,” I said, extending the wallet as a peace offering and bribe to live.

  “Sonya, is that you in there?” a voice asked from the front part of the house. Then a nappy-chested old man turned the corner, coughing, not even bothering to cover his mouth. Confused, he looked me up and down and then over to who I was guessing was Sonya.

  “Hey, girl, who in the hell is this?”

  “Damn, why you wanna know? You bugging.”

  “’Cause she’s in my damn house, that’s why. Ya ass out there up to no good. Whoever y’all running from betta not show up here blowing my high,” the old man snapped as if he were proud of his raggedy surroundings.

  “Look, not now, Pops. Fall back with all that bullshit. Ain’t nobody chasing nobody.”

  Pops? You mean to tell me this snaggletoothed nigga is her daddy? I swear I thought that this dump was abandoned. And here, his old ass has the nerve to be bitchin’ about “his” house. I was more than ready to just get outta here. I glanced over at the door as I slid the stolen wallet into my pocket.

  “Hey, what’s going on out here?” A wide-bodied woman stepped into the kitchen, joining the conversation.

  “Your wild-ass daughter and her little hoodlum sidekick is running from some damn body. You know, with her, it’s always something.”

  “What’s going on, Sonya?” her mom asked, reeking of alcohol.

  “It ain’t nothing, Ma. You know them cracker police be messin’ with us for no reason.”

  “And who the fuck is you?” her mom snarled at me.

  Hesitantly, I said, “Umm, my name’s Melody.”

  “Where the hell you from? You ain’t from around here.”

  “Naw, I’m from Chicago.”

  “Yeah, well, Chi-Town. Keep up running with this no-good daughter of mine,
and you two gon’ be cell mates.”

  “Look, let me stop all this fake shit. Here, now go somewhere and get the fuck on,” Sonya interrupted in a loud tone that would have my mother slapping my face. Handing what looked like a twenty to her father, she told her parents to split it. I could tell that she was embarrassed by them. Who wouldn’t be? Yet, I played it like it was all good. I mean, it was because now I saw why this girl kept that dead, cold, blank hunger in her eyes. My level of understanding would be zero too if I were living in circumstances like hers.

  “So, I guess your name is Sonya, huh?” I blurted out, feeling a little bit more at ease, seeing as we were not alone. “My name is Melody. Well, Money Mel,” I boasted, trying to make small talk and sound supercool.

  “Oh yeah, Money Mel, huh?” she laughed, seeing I was trying to brag on myself. And not to be outdone, she was eager to do some quick bragging about her own rep as she turned her back on me. “Well, they call me the Book Bag Bandit.”

  “Oh, snap! Are you serious? Oh my God, I seen that shit on the news the other day.” I put the side of my fist in my mouth, then stopped and laughed. “That’s some official shit, making people rob they self.” It was all making sense now. That’s why she was carrying a book bag. “I’ma call you ‘Bags.’”

  Sonya thought for a second. “I like that.” She nodded and smiled. “I gotta give it to you too. I watched you working all day, Money Mel. You must have clipped every bit of ten people before the old guy.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I do,” I proudly smiled.

  “So, where you learn how to pick at?”

  “Back home in Chicago; the South Side. That’s all we do in my area. Picking pockets is bigger than the dope game. We call it two-finger dippin’. You slippin’, yo’ shit missin’.”

  “I like that.” Bags nodded, then raised her shirt. “But here in Detroit, we flash this burner and make a nigga drop down. But for real, for real, I think we could make some noise together if we link.”

  I squinted at her, like, “I’m listening, go ahead.” I nodded and watched as Bags did the math in her head. The way the sirens were still flying past, I was not trying to see outside anytime fast. After nearing twenty minutes of Bags running down her potential game plan, I was in total agreement. We’d make a great team. And to show my good faith and willingness to link, I made a financial gesture. “Look, I ain’t never been no stingy type hustler, so here, take half of this,” I said and handed my new partner the wallet I’d just clipped.

  “Naw, Mel, I can’t take your money. That’s yours. You earned that shit for real, though.” She backed away as if the wallet were poison.

  I could tell she was a female with pride, even though she was dressed like a dude. And truth be told, I felt her vibe. I didn’t want anybody to give me jack shit just on some pity tip. Instead, I’d rather take it. That way, I would feel like I earned it, stolen or not. “Look, me and you a team now, right? So, one day, I might not make nothing out in these streets, and you might make all the loot. So, when that day comes, just return the favor.”

  “Dig, that’s real. I appreciate you, ’cause you already see I got them two begging motherfuckers in there that be on my head.” Bags nodded toward the front part of the house.

  “All right, then, take your half, family,” I said, extending my hand to seal our friendship.

  We kicked it around Bags’s people’s crib until the police stopped circling the hood. I was feeling my new friend and wanted to ask her all types of questions, some more personal than others. But I pumped my brakes. The bottom line was she seemed a little crazy, especially since I witnessed Sonya had no second thoughts or remorse about pulling the trigger. I didn’t mind breaking bread with her ’cause I felt she would be loyal. And despite all of the news reports claiming hundreds of citizens had been robbed, it looked like the infamous Book Bag Bandit really needed the money.

  Chapter Four

  Sonya

  The next day, I woke up with money on my mind. I kissed my little brother, listened to Auntie belittle me for a few minutes, then I hit the door. Today was going to be an excellent day to make money—I could feel it. Auntie couldn’t even ruin it. I refused to feed into her negativity. It was early Sunday. That meant plenty of money would be on the streets, mostly churchgoing people. Shit, I didn’t have no picks when it come to me and mine, and from the looks of it, neither did Money Mel. I ain’t never been no friendly type hustler. I did my dirt solo. But she was on some real shit when she bust down with me yesterday with that wallet. We could and would definitely get some money together.

  I was on my way to holler at Mel. I wanted to see how much hustle game her cute li’l skinny ass was sitting on. I climbed the steps up the front porch to the house I walked her to last night. From the looks of the outside of her crib in the daylight, she wasn’t in no better shape than I was. I pushed the doorbell twice and waited.

  “Yeah, who is it?” the voice of a female asked from the other side.

  “Uh, it’s Sonya. Is—” Before I could fully finish my response, the door swung wide open. I was stuck. There stood a redbone leaning against the door frame lookin’ good enough to eat. I was like, damn. She was all of that. My eyes stared at her pretty little feet, up to her petite yellow thighs, past her perfect C-cup breasts, and stopping on her angelic face. She was beyond beautiful.

  “Yes, can I help you?” she frowned with a hint of attitude in her voice.

  I had to swallow and clear my throat. She was so fine. “Yeah, uh, is Melody here?”

  “Yup, hold on,” the mystery female seemed puzzled, leaving the door slightly cracked.

  I watched through the crack, lost in the sway of her hips. The way she had those peach boyshorts cutting up in that ass, I was in a trance when, out of nowhere, Melody popped up in the door with a big-ass smile on her face.

  “You ready?” she asked, cheesin’ hard.

  Hell nah, I thought. I wanted to know baby girl. But Melody pulled the door shut and stepped out on the porch while putting her arms into the sleeves of her flannel. I tucked my hands into my pockets and followed her down the porch. “Yeah, so what up, doe?”

  “You up early, ain’t you?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “If you saw my house, you’d know why.”

  “Huh, wait, hold up. I saw your house yesterday evening, didn’t I?”

  “Nah, that’s my parents’ crib. I live with my auntie, and a bunch of other supposed kinfolk,” I remarked with a long sigh. I hated even thinking about that house. But the thought of baby girl who’d just opened the door brought a grin back to my face. “But, yo, who in the hell was ole girl that answered the door?”

  “Slow your roll. That’s my sister.” Melody got all short with a nigga and serious. “And check this here out.” She paused, stopping to face me. “Bags, if we gon’ be gettin’ money together, my sisters are off-limits. We clear?”

  Did I just hear her say “sisters”? You mean to tell me there was more than one of her running around, and she blockin’ me from getting one? “Okay, damn. I got you. Stop bugging out so early.”

  “Melody, where are you going?” A woman emerged from the front door and yelled from the porch.

  “Dang, I’ll be back in a few,” Melody hollered back with an attitude.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “My moms.”

  Damn . . . Melody’s mom could get it too!

  “So, okay, Bags, where we going? What’s the deal?”

  “I was thinking we’d hit the streets. Then maybe hit the mall afterward. I want you to show me that two-finger shit.”

  “I got a li’l something else I wanna work on these lames in your city anyway. You ever heard of ‘tilling’?”

  “Nah, girl, what’s that?”

  “I’ma put you down. By the time we get back, we should have no less than maybe five, six hundred,” Melody confidently blurted out.

  “Five, six hundred?” I inquired.

  “Yes, dollars
, homegirl. So what’s the most amount of money you ever had at once, in one day?”

  “Maybe two or three hundred.”

  “Well, stick with me, and by the summer, you’ll be sitting on some Gs.”

  And for some reason, I believed her. I knew her weasel-lookin’ ass had some game running through her veins. I could really use the money, especially before the summer hit. I could maybe get a car. Shit, I would give my left eye just to show Auntie’s ass up.

  We turned into Sonya and Melody as we bent the corner onto Dexter. I waved a Checker cab to the curb, but Melody told her to move on.

  “Whoa, wait, hold up. What you doing? That was our ride to Northland Mall.”

  Melody pointed to the bus stop. “Naw, sis, that’s our ride.”

  “Dang, I would’ve paid for it. It ain’t no thang.”

  “It’s not about that. How much money you got on you right now?”

  “About a buck eighty. Why?” I said.

  “That’s all the bread you made yesterday and probably your entire life savings. Now, ask me how much money I got on me right now.”

  “How much?” I asked with my face twisted.

  “Two dollars, enough to catch the bus. That’s how much I come out with every day. The game is ’bout turning nothin’ into somethin’.”

  “Okay, yeah, I feel you. You right.”

  While we waited at the bus stop, we talked about any and everything. Soon, we saw the Dexter Providence bus coming up from Fullerton Way. It rocked and dipped into the many potholes hugging the curb until reaching us at the stop.

  “Hey, when we get on, don’t sit next to me,” Melody whispered over her shoulder as we waited for two elderly women and a man to step off.

  “Hey, girl, it’s not a school day.” The bus driver turned in his seat and snarled after Melody slid her school pass through the swipe.