Girls from da Hood 14

by Treasure Hernandez

  “Wow, this hotel is slamming.” Roxy’s attitude appeared to be improving. Even though this week and its end were dedicated to the gay and lesbian community, there were a few cute guys and couples that weren’t into the life either.

  Even though we wanted to chill and take in the vibe of our hotel, Jazz was busy rushing us toward the double queen suite for us to get dressed and back to the festival. “Girl, you should’ve booked us a room at a Quality Inn or some low-budget shit like that. Why pay all this money to have the party scene at our doorsteps not to enjoy it?” I secretly wanted to kick back and chill in the lobby. It seemed like all the straight folks reserved their deluxe stay here.

  “Because it’s my birthday, and I want to be with my people in the streets, celebrating our freedom to live out in the open. And they’ll have the hot tickets to tonight’s shows, I’m sure.” Keeping up with her quick steps, we bypassed the sports bar of loud music and the clanking of beer glasses and went into our oceanfront double suite.

  I wouldn’t describe the room as being overly elegant or designed to the extreme. It was simple and chic, with its layout of fresh white linen and breathtaking views of the Atlantic Ocean. I was expecting a little more flash to the room since everything else around here was gaudy and meant to grandstand. But with the flat-screen, high-definition television and the rain showerhead, which I was dying to experiment with, I guess it would do, especially since Jazz intended to drag us all over this city, starting right now. I loved my girl. She was the most fun out of all of us.

  Jazz, having been in tune with standing out in a crowd and not being sensitive about judgment, was always willing to try new things. Roxy was the feistiest of us three but could always be counted on to have our backs in a fight or disagreement. Many times we’ve ridden down on a group of supposed “tough-tone chicks” with bats or broken bottles in hand. My contribution was to be the laid-back one of the group, and with the two strong personalities Jazz and Roxy interjected into our clique, they needed me to mediate inner beefs and keep us all working on one accord.

  “Hurry up, Sable. Let’s not keep the birthday girl waiting.” Jazz came from the quick two-minute ho bath she was taking in the bathroom. I’m sure she was getting ready to squeeze her plump behind into some skimpy type of material that was too revealing and too small for her thick curves.

  “Mike Mike ain’t here, so it won’t be no slow-dragging bullshitting going on fa’sho.” I shot a quick move behind her for the shower, ready to relax and zone out for a few. My clothes were laid out across the 300-thread count bedding that I couldn’t wait to drown in after our first drunken night.

  “You better not be. I’ll be twenty-two at midnight, and I’m not wasting any time on either one of you two slowpokes.” Jazz stepped into one of the many mirrors and slid into a pair of too short booty shorts with rips and studs.

  Slamming the door and turning the water on full blast at a cool temperature, I slid my clothes off, leaving them in a pile on the granite-like tiled floor. The rainfall relaxed every nerve and muscle in my worked-up body. Stepping underneath the massaging flow, I allowed the water to run through my thirty-inch, deep-wave Brazilian weave. I loved the curls when they were wet and wavy, and since I was in Miami, what better way to rock my hair? After rubbing my body over with the Jergens cherry-almond soap, I made sure to take my time on each nook and cranny. Fuck what ya heard . . . wasn’t nothing fly about a thick girl with a body odor. I was on a strict schedule. I finished up and hurried out to dry off and get dressed. Checking my phone again, I saw that Mike Mike hadn’t called. I was thankful ’cause I’m pretty sure he’d be throwing some salt in my game otherwise.

  Chapter Nine

  Sable

  The streets were lined with colorful floats from the parade, decorated vehicles, walking groups, and vendors all down for the cause of celebrating and advocating for gay pride and unity. I’d never seen anything like it. If strength is in numbers, Jazz and her people were holding it down. Between the live bands, potent drinks, and all-around hippie vibe, I hadn’t regretted being tricked down here one bit. We walked the block, stopping and collecting trinkets from the interesting organizations. They were giving out free passes to clubs, coupons, and discounts at local restaurants, and you already know we loaded up.

  “Hey, pretty ladies, come let me talk to you over by this table,” a Jamaican guy with Ray-Bans approached us out of the crowd. He didn’t look to be a part of the GLBT community, but nevertheless, here we were.

  “Off rip, y’all looking lovely today,” he eyed us three, taking our hands each individually and kissing them.

  “What do you want, dude? Whatever you’re selling, we ain’t buying,” Roxy rudely responded. My girl definitely needed a downer. Her being uptight made me wonder what was up with that bellhop’s hookup and why we hadn’t seen him since.

  “I can bet you do, pretty lady.” Turning his attention from her toward Jazz and me, we were all into whatever presentation he had planned. “Where are y’all partying tonight?”

  “Probably one of these free joints we got passes to,” Jazz spoke up. Jazz was still looking salty as I was still caught up in the hype of everything going on around us. The public display of same-sex affection still had me tripping out.

  “Oh, no no no, pretty ladies. Here.” He handed us each a sexy flyer for a party boat called Sunrise. “This is the place you three should be in tonight. I can guarantee it.” As we scanned the flyer for details, he went to what I called fast-talking us in circles. “For one hundred dollars each, you’ll ride the party bus with unlimited liquor and get on board the Sunrise boat to swim and really have fun. For an extra hundred each, you’ll get a cabin on the boat, fully stocked.”

  “Whoa, playa. I knew you were on some straight bullshit. Gon’ on with that.” Roxy got tough, straight D girl all the time.

  “Chill me, lady. Hey, ma, tell ya girl to relax.” He looked at me for support and sympathy. I tried to ignore him and continue reading the flyer. The boat seemed to go all night from 8:00 p.m. to 8:00 a.m.

  “She ain’t gotta tell me nothing.” Roxy’s hand flew up to stop any words I possibly had coming for her. “Explain why we should pay your ratchet ass off the streets and not know if we’ll ever see you again? Who knows if what you’re saying is true?” She had a point, and Jazz verbally agreed. None of us had been to Miami to know if this was even customary. In the Motor City, that shit would be a no-brainer Hell No!

  “I’ll give you my phone number.” He waved his late-model refurbished cell.

  “Burn out,” Roxy rolled her eyes, continuing to go hard, not giving the dude an opportunity to get his second wind.

  “Okay, look, can we pay you when the party bus picks us up?” We tried to negotiate, not wanting to be scammed out of our cash.

  “No no no.” He threw his hands up, backing away from the table. “I’m telling you right now, Sunrise is the spot to be at, even when these motherfuckers ain’t here,” he waved to the parade. “No disrespect ’cause with them coming for the after-party, it’s a guaranteed sellout. But it ain’t a girl club like it.” He stood back over us, pressing for an on-the-spot decision.

  By now, Jazz had done a Google search on the Sunrise boat and was moments away from pulling her share out of her purse. Thoroughly impressed with the photos and reviews, she passed the phone to me for a second approval. I was down to make my girl happy as an added bonus for keeping my secret.

  “But, Jazz, how do you know this dude ain’t gonna rip us off still? That club can be nice and all, but we can just go on our own,” Roxy relentlessly shot down giving this hustler any play whatsoever.

  “Look, ma, I ain’t no thief, and it ain’t no way you’re gonna get a deal like this nowhere else. Take it or leave it, but real talk, this is what I do. I’m a party promoter—one of the best, you better believe.” Standing back with his hands crossed, I felt he meant business, but just like Roxy, I had my reservations.

  “All right, I’m in,”
I finally broke the ice. Jazz was staring at us both, waiting on one of us to give in. Going into my purse, I could feel Roxy watching me with cold eyes. I was the monkey stuck in the middle.

  “Roxy, you can fall back. We’re getting a party bus, boat ride, pool party, a cabin, and bar time, not to mention unlimited liquor—we really can’t beat it,” I finally pitched his calling card for him. Pulling eight crisp one hundred-dollar bills out of my backpack and sliding it across the table, I’d sealed the deal for us to party all night long. The glare in Roxy’s eyes was nothing but hate.

  “Well, if Mike Mike gave you that money to floss boss down here, then fuck it. I’m gonna ride that bus with you.” She hunched her shoulders, giving me more attitude.

  “What hotel are you pretty ladies at?” the promoter asked, now more upbeat and sliding my cash into his pocket with dancing eyes.

  “The Clevelander.”

  “Cool. The party bus will be arriving tere around six thirty or seven. Be in the lobby and ready. Call when you’re down tere.” He was strict with his directions. “This part is serious, pretty ladies. If you’re not on time, we will leave.” Roxy rolled her eyes at his words, but Jazz and I understood and vowed to be on time.

  * * *

  We decided to slide by the infamous Wet Willie’s before heading back to the hotel. With only a few hours before the planned boat cruise, there was only a little time to kill mingling with others on the strip. Even though the gay and lesbian crowd was in the spot, there were still groups like us hanging around looking for trouble. Grabbing a table and ordering a Call-A-Cab, I checked my phone for the first time, seeing Mike Mike had just called. With only one missed call and no messages, I guessed that he hadn’t realized he was now broke as a joke.

  Jazz nudged me. “Sis, everything good?”

  “Yeah, I was just seeing if Mike Mike called.” I played it off, noticing Roxy checking her phone but listening with all ears. I wasn’t ready for her to be in what Jazz and I privately shared, especially with her attitude still being so up and down.

  “You might want to call and check for that nigga. If he were my man, I wouldn’t be letting him dangle. Chicks around my area always spitting game his way. Mike Mike stock always high as hell,” Roxy spoke up, letting me know for certain she was all ears.

  “Oh, straight-up? Well, I ain’t worried about them home-wrecking hoes. I got that comeback, so it’s nothing. But I hope you cut into them thirsty McMuffin-eating broads you call neighbors.”

  “That’s on you. He ain’t my man or cashing out so I can pop tags, so, hell naw. I ain’t about to start no beef where I lay my head. Like I said, you better check for your man.”

  “I got it, boo, and I’ve got shit with Mike Mike under control too. What’s been really eating me up, however, is your funky-ass disposition. Why do you keep cutting into Jazz and me with that grim attitude like you’ve got a problem with us?”

  Roxy looked stunned, caught off guard, or either surprised I’d called her out on her stank behavior. Enough was enough, though, and I didn’t want our trip ruined any longer.

  “Fuck y’all and that tag-team shit. I’m straight and been that way the whole time.” Shrugging her shoulders and sipping her drink in an attempt to play me like a fool, I shook my head, done with the conversation.

  “Girl, bye. I’ve gotta go pee some of this liquor out. Be real by the time I get back.” Leaving Jazz to fill her in on the obvious, I dipped out to the bathroom to handle my business.

  Chapter Ten

  Carla

  “What in the entire hell. Your fucking cell is ringing again,” I could hear Gianna calling from the front room. Getting my bag of clothes for the boat ride, I must’ve been tripping to leave my phone unattended around her. What was I thinking? And why wasn’t it silenced in the first place? Snatching up the suitcase and the Ziploc bag of pills, I ran up the small hallway, trying to get to both and my incriminating phone.

  “Hello.” Turning toward me with a devilish grin, I watched her answer my phone to whoever was about to determine how our afternoon would play out. If it were some jump-off, she’d be ready to fight and rip a mud hole in my ass. With her already buzzing off ecstasy and Kush, the repercussions would most certainly be severe.

  “Why are you always cutting in on our personal time, bro? It’s not enough that you’ll be cruising with my girl all night? You’ve gotta be calling all day too?” Gianna’s disposition was nothing to be fucked with, snapping at any given moment. When it came to me, she had no limits. Realizing it wasn’t another girl on the line, I backed down and chilled, letting her go hard on my business partner.

  “Here,” she tossed the phone toward me, grabbing her Gucci purse. Standing near the door, tapping her foot, being impatient, she waited on me to make one false move before going crazy. “Your business is always ruining our quality time,” she huffed as I answered the phone to see what was up.

  “Aye, Madame Ma, I filled up your reserved seats,” my Jamaican promoter started babbling before I had a chance to turn down the volume.

  “That’s good,” I nodded, thinking of how well he worked. On any given day, he could find the baddest broads for my eye-viewing pleasure. “I knew I could count on you and your street crew to make it happen.”

  “No doubt, that’s fa’sho. I’m going to do my job 100 percent of the time. Me loves the cash.”

  “Fa’sho, playa. We all do, and a filled-to-capacity boat is like the dessert topping on a cake.” He laughed, knowing I couldn’t wait to fuck around with a few of the sweets partying on the Sunrise tonight. He knew my style and what flavor I preferred and would seek out honeys I’d like. Not only was I into making money hand over fist, but also doing a few taste tests didn’t hurt. Most people couldn’t handle having their cake and eating it too. I just didn’t fit in that category.

  “Hey, Boss, me not want no trouble from the ladies you don’t think fit status quo. The last time you turned a girl away, her whole posse went straight hella ham on me.” I grinned, remembering the isolated event. With me, it didn’t happen on many occasions, but across South Beach, Miami, if you weren’t a diva or paper-thin with a pretty face—you were denied entry into clubs or the most happening scenes.

  “They oughta have their shit tight right then. You already know how I get down, but since you have the knack for picking the cream of the crop, everything should be a straight go.” I kept it real with him knowing I’d deny a bold bitch entry or amenities in a minute. Fuck being nice. In my world, people would cut me with a knife and stab me in the back without thinking twice or second-guessing. So every man on their own—fuck a hurt feeling.

  Pissed, Gianna watched me. It was written all over her face. But business was business, and if I said it once, I’d said a million times—ain’t no ho slowing my go. Part of the reason I was gay is that I didn’t like the control, muscle-throwing cockiness a man presented or brought to the table. With women, I floated the boat and would drown a bitch for jumping ship or making it rock. Once I claimed you, I owned you. You can call me Stevie J. pimping hoes, but whatever the case, Gianna was the exception to my rule.

  “Sheesh, girl, it’s harder working for you than a man.” I could believe this to be true. “I’ll catch up with you on the boat in a few, lady.”

  “Yup, in a few.” Hanging up, I silenced the sound on my phone before stuffing it into my white cargo shorts pocket. “Open the door and bring that ass.” I waved at Gianna to push on with the attitude so we could catch lunch.

  Traffic was triple thick in South Beach, with it being a Friday, lunchtime, and a gay pride event. Gianna was riding shotgun for me. I kept cool in the bumper-to-bumper traffic with the windows up and air conditioner on bang. I was intrigued and impressed with this year’s layout, and if luck served me right, Sunrise would be a sellout. Once Gianna was fed and full, I’d drop her off immediately so I could get to the boat.

  “Carla, can the girls and I get a free cabin tonight?” She reached over to rub my thigh,
but I’d smashed that earlier. Right now, it was played. “We trying to party right for pride too,” she devilishly smiled. The look on her face was serious, but her stupidity was priceless. Her partying with me was a definite no-go.

  “Hell naw, Gianna, you know that shit ain’t happening.” I laughed, not caring if my words hurt her feelings. “But them cabins better had been cleaned right.” Ignoring anything else in regards to doing favors and running charity cases, I jumped out of my Lexus and tossed the attendant my keys. She climbed out heated—ready to cause a scene. If she didn’t slow her roll quickly, Gianna only had cab fare coming. I didn’t play that public embarrassment shit, and she knew that. Throwing my hand up to silence her, I pulled out some flyers to give the doorman and valet attendants.

  “Ugh. I hate that boat with a passion, I swear.” Gianna smacked her lips while twisting up her adorable face. As I watched her long legs and firm ass stomp up the stairs, even her body couldn’t mask her ghetto-girl attitude. “Come on. Damn.” She turned back, watching with disdain.

  “Look, Gianna, you better chill on that fucking mouth, ma. You know good and damn well I ain’t for that ra-ra girl shit. Me and you eat off that boat, and if you don’t like it, quit.” Catching up with her, I smacked her on the behind with aggression in an attempt to get her in line.

  “Whatever, Carla, I ain’t scared. We can’t smoke or pop pills here, baby, so you ain’t doing shit.” She switched off to the bar, leaving me steaming, ready to snatch her sew-in out. It was taking everything in me not to leave her smart-talking ass here.

  Finding us a seat near the balcony, I scoped out the girls next to me, suddenly wishing I’d hit this venue alone. They looked to be out of towners, having the eager eye to catch all of what’s going on. Gianna had that same look of excitement when I first picked her up too. The light-skinned, jazz-haired chick caught my eye first. Meant to be the one who stands out in her two live crew, she was the loudest, boldest, and happiest—dancing around the table ordering rounds of drinks. She wasn’t my type but was fun to watch.