She Gave Her All to the Hood's Finest 5

by Shvonne Latrice

  The timer on my iPhone went off, so I checked the pregnancy test I’d taken. A small smile covered my face when I confirmed my suspicions about being pregnant. I’d never been pregnant in my entire life, so I knew something was off with my body.

  Taking a photo, I sent it to Nehemiah then washed my hands. I grabbed an electronics wipe to clean my phone, just as he replied.

  Babe: You was right… damn. <3

  Babe: I can’t wait.

  Me: Me either :)

  Babe: I love you.

  Babe: Don’t forget to go pick up Timothy.

  I rolled my eyes before replying to say ‘okay’.

  Nehemiah and I had been serious for some years now, but I still stayed in my place when it came to his son he had with his ex. However, now that I was pregnant and we were planning to marry, we discussed that it’d be a good idea for me to be more active with certain things like picking him up from Star, driving him to school when he spent the night, and occasionally taking him to some doctor’s appointments. I didn’t mind any of that, and when he was here, I always cooked his meals, made his lunches for school, bathed him, and even read him bedtime stories, especially when his father had to work late.

  Today, Nehemiah had a lot of work to do, and he didn’t want to reschedule with Star because she would make a huge deal out of it. She’d already been playing games with his visitation time, even though it was set in stone by the courts, so anytime he actually couldn’t come or was late, she threatened him and would keep the baby for weeks.

  I truly didn’t understand her nor what her endgame was. After I beat her ass a minute ago, she kind of calmed down and left us alone. But it was almost like she’d realized Nehemiah and I were the real deal, so she was back on her bullshit again. I had no problem wearing her ass out however many times I needed to though.

  I pulled up in front of Star’s nice ass house that my man had purchased for her, and threw my truck in park.

  It was funny to me how she bragged on social media about not needing a man for shit, how she never asked her child’s father for anything, and how independent she was, but that wasn’t even the case.

  Nehemiah bought her house, paid the bills, got all new furniture for Timothy, new furniture for her, and anytime maintenance on the house was needed, he paid for that too. Granted, Star did have her own money, because her little fitness brand was in fact popping, but the bitch was a fraud and far from the independent woman she claimed to be. I just wished my man was petty enough to blast her, but he never would, so of course people bought what she was selling.

  “Who are you?” Some big light-skinned dude answered the door.

  He was shirtless, messy fat, and really tall. However, despite his current appearance, I could see that he might have been cute at one point in his life. His demeanor screamed bum though.

  “Jilly. Who the fuck are you?” I snapped back, making him smile.

  “I’m Dre, Star’s man.” He stuck his hand out to me, but I ignored it.

  “Dre? I’ve never heard of you.”

  Really, Star? All that working out just to have a butterball ass boyfriend? Homegirl fell all the way off, because this was a humongous downgrade from Nehemiah. She had to have been on drugs.

  “Don’t need to.” He looked me up and down lustfully.

  “Anyway, can you move so I can come in and get Timothy?”

  He said nothing, just stepped back to allow me into the house. His strong cologne made me want to throw up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my natural reaction or the embryo in my body.

  “Oh… she’s giving him a bath right now. I can give yo’ little fine ass a tour if you want.”

  “No, and should you be complimenting me when you have a girlfriend?”

  Dre chuckled, licking his lips.

  “How that gay ass nigga Nehemiah bag you?”

  “Same way he bagged your bitch before you did. Only difference is you will never even have the chance to touch me.”

  “Fiesty.” He laughed slowly, making it obvious he was high out of his mind. “Well fuck you then. Stay right here and wait for her. But if you change your mind, just know I can change ya life.”

  “Work on changing your own life first because the sight before me is tragic—ugh what the fuck!” I swatted him when he leaned down with his lips poked out like he planned to kiss me.

  Chortling loudly, he skated off, bottom of his feet looking like tar. For about twenty minutes, I stood right in the foyer waiting, until I finally saw Star coming down with Timothy and his little backpack.

  “Jilly! I—” Timothy stopped himself as he made eye contact with his mother. Clearly, her hating ass had told him not to be nice to me. He loved me though, and once we got away from her, we’d have some fun.

  “Hi, baby, are you ready to go?” I knelt down to be eye level with him once Star placed him to his feet.

  “I guess,” he replied dryly, giving his mother yet another look. Kids told everything, even when they didn’t say a word.

  “Okay.” I took his small hand into mine. “So he will be back Monday evening.”

  “Actually, you need to maybe talk with your man a little more because it’s Tuesday evening this week. I’m going to be out of town starting tonight and won’t be here Monday.”

  “Oh well, my bad. And speaking of talking to men, maybe you should talk to yours because he propositioned me.” I cocked my head.

  Star stared at me, anger all up and through her face. I could tell she wanted to maul me.

  “You’re a damn lie. You think everybody wants you, Jilly, but no one does, not even Nehemiah.”

  “I mean, if you want to believe that, then go right ahead. Your man wants me, and so does your baby daddy.”

  Glaring at me, she moved closer then asked, “How come he hasn’t asked you to marry him? Hell, you ain’t even pregnant. He got me pregnant quickly, so your pussy must be trash.” She cackled at her own joke as I smiled softly, ready to end all that shit.

  “Oh, that’s what I forgot to tell you. Nehemiah and I are having a baby, but unlike you, when I give birth, it won’t be out of wedlock. I’ll send you a picture from the proposal because you won’t be allowed at the wedding. Bye, bitch.” I tugged her son to the door. I could feel the heat and steam coming up off of her, which made me grin.

  I buckled Timothy in the back seat, then got in on the driver’s side.

  “I’m hungry,” he called out.

  “Okay. Want some homemade cheeseburgers?” I quizzed, looking into the back seat. “It’s okay, baby. We can be friends; I won’t tell your mommy.”

  Timothy looked worried, but eventually, he nodded happily with a smile.

  “Yeah, Jilly’s cheeseburgers!”

  “Okay, coming right up!” I sped out of the driveway, feeling good about reading Star.

  18

  Tony Wacko

  Sean: Too bad she doesn’t dance. Send her on her way? Name is Klaude.

  I checked the text that Sean, the hiring manager at The Pink Cherry, had sent me on my business phone. Cuz knew to only hit me up for specific reasons and never no bullshit.

  Attached to the message was a photo of some bitch with a fire ass body and a less than okay face. It didn’t matter though, because her body was fucking crazy.

  Me: Nah put her on as a club hostess and then a waitress at the waffle spot.

  I quickly replied to that shit. That hoe couldn’t swing around the pole but niggas would still roll through if they knew she’d be working their table. The Pink Cherry made a lot of money before I’d acquired the shit, but now it was making me millions.

  After renovating and then adding that waffle house attachment to it, I couldn’t keep the shit empty. And the fact that muthafuckas knew that was where I proposed to Camarih, made it an attraction. Everybody wanted to see where I gave her, her ring and all that shit. Niggas was weird, but if it got me paid, I didn’t give a fuck.

  Sean: Aight cool.

  I pocketed my phone after c
hecking the time and then got up to shut down the studio. I had somewhere to be, and the shit needed to be handled properly and promptly.

  Once I locked up, I hopped into my Bentayga, lit a blunt, and then sped off. Took me about an hour to pull up to Dirko’s crib. Parking my shit in his luxurious ass driveway area, I popped some gum and then hopped out.

  Not wanting to ring his doorbell or knock, I broke in, making my way through his house to find his ass. His crib was massive, but it stayed dirty, looking fucked up, and smelling like old dog shit. The outside stayed clean though, with the lawns all manicured and shit like them white folks do. But he had too many parties, always drug fueled, so the inside was another fucking story.

  “Aye, nigga, wake the fuck up.” I slammed a couch pillow down onto Dirko’s head hard as fuck once I’d entered his lavish but filthy ass den.

  “Damn, man, fuck,” he mumbled, trying to sit up with his high ass. It still ’til this day amazed me how he was able to pull off making them records and performing, even though he was a full-blown ass cokehead.

  “Get you some water or something, muthafucka, because I got some shit to holla at you about, and you bet not miss a fucking word,” I stated sternly, hands in the pockets of my joggers as I waited.

  “Aight. You can sit down.”

  “I ain’t sitting down on this shit. All them damn swamp pussies and dicks you don’ had on this fucking furniture, hell nah. And hurry the fuck up.”

  Dirko chuckled as he struggled to his feet, walking to the big ass cooler in here to get a drink of water.

  “I don’t be having no dicks on my couch, man.” He sipped it, still chuckling.

  “So I’m only gon’ say this shit to you once, cuz. Quit that fake gang banging shit you be doing on social media.”

  From day one, Dirko made it clear that one of the reasons he wanted to sign to me was to build his street credit. I thought the stupid muthafucka was joking, but clearly, he wasn’t. He’d always done small shit to allude the fact that he was affiliated with the LA gang life, but now the nigga was doing too much.

  Not only was it a problem because I didn’t fuck with fake niggas, whether it was business or personal, but also because the shit wasn’t a good look for a nigga of my caliber to have an artist fake banging. LA was my city, and any nigga I was endorsing would respect the street code. Dirko wasn’t doing that shit; matter fact, he was straight up being disrespectful to my city and me. I didn’t play that shit, and if them niggas that was really about that life he claimed to be into didn’t kill his ass first, I would.

  “Ah man, I just be—”

  “I don’t give a fuck what you just be doing. You ain’t part of that shit. You not even from LA, cuz. Fuck wrong with you?”

  “Nah, I know, but I think that persona boosts my shit up.”

  I made my way over to where he was so he could understand every fucking thing I was saying clearly.

  “Cut the shit out, or the only thing they gon’ be boosting is yo’ ass into a casket. Yo’ name is already hot in the hood, meaning if niggas see you, they won’t hesitate to light yo’ ass the fuck up. And if I catch you myself, I’ll make yo’ ass disappear, but after I embarrass the fuck out of you.

  “You not hard, nigga; you a muthafuckin R&B singer. Stick to what the fuck you know, ’fore you fuck around and get smoked like the little weak ass piece of salmon yo’ ass really is.”

  “Aight, I hear you.” He nodded.

  “And brush yo’ damn teeth, twice a fucking day. Every time I come to this muthafucka, yo’ shit is smelling like clapping ass cheeks.”

  “No the fuck it don’t!” He laughed, but it slowly went away when I stared his ass down with a stale expression.

  I was serious as fuck about that funky ass mouth of his. It was to the point where no matter what the fuck he asked me, I had a rude ass, irritated response. How he got hoes baffled me. Just goes to show females would deal with anything if a nigga had money.

  That breath was also why I never let him talk to Camarih, especially in close proximities. If he made my bitch pass out or got that permanent monkey dick smell on her clothes and hair, I’d have to kill his ass.

  “I’m leaving. I listened to yo’ shit today, and it’s a go. So we gon’ drop it, then depending on how it does, we’ll move forward with a line-up of promotion. Alejandra will hit you up.”

  “Okay. Cool, boss.” He walked back to his couch to try and sit down, but I yanked his ass up by his collar.

  “Go brush yo’ damn teeth and that tongue too.” I shoved him toward the exit of the den.

  While he went to the bathroom, I let myself out so I could bounce.

  I wanted to run by The Pink Cherry like always, just to see how shit was running. I would never be one of them dumb ass owners who let managers and shit handle every fucking thing. That was how businesses and shit went under.

  “Hey, Tony, just in time. Klaude is actually here still. She said she could work tonight. I didn’t know what area you preferred her in for the day.” Sean caught up to me before I got to my office on the third floor of the club. I had this shit added, equipped with floor-to-ceiling windows everywhere so you could see the beautiful city of Los Angeles easily.

  “Where she at?” I paused.

  He put up one finger then rushed to his office before waving for who I assume was Klaude to come on. She walked out looking just like her pictures, in a skimpy ass outfit. Thick was an understatement. She had a belly too, but as good as her body looked, it didn’t even matter. Niggas would much rather fuck a bitch with a stomach than some skeletor ass female. I knew this hoe Klaude was about to make me a lot of bread.

  Soon as she saw me, she cheesed widely as hell, biting her lip a little bit like she couldn’t help the shit.

  “Hey, Wacko.” She waved, placing one hand on her wide hip.

  “She can’t work today because her paperwork and shit gotta be processed. Plus a background and drug test.” I ignored her greeting and spoke directly to Sean. Looking to her, I pointed and asked, “Who the fuck is that?”

  “What?” She cocked her head.

  “That big, protruding, twisted, ass front tooth in yo’ mouth is distracting as fuck. Don’t roll up on niggas cheesing and shit without introducing his ass too.” Focusing back on Sean while Klaude tucked her lips, I said, “No work until her shit comes back clean.”

  “I can do a free work day today, just to get a feel for the place and patrons.” Klaude looked up at me with a closed mouth smile this time.

  “Oh, so you a dumb hoe.” I peered down into her now shocked face.

  “Huh?”

  “Only dumb ass females work for free. Either that or you got an ulterior motive, and I’m gon’ tell yo’ ass right now, I ain’t the muthafucka to try, play, or fuck with in any way, shape, or form.”

  Sean stood off to the side, waiting on her response just like I was.

  “No. I was just trying to help and be nice.” She shook her head repeatedly. That lustful stare she was giving up minutes ago had now switched into a caught bitch. I couldn’t care less what the fuck she was doing here; the bitch was fine from her neck to her ankles, and she could make me some cash.

  “Well I’m mean, so I don’t like that nice shit. Nice means you a hoe, and hoes get slapped the fuck up. You see the connection?” When I spoke, she squinted her eyes like she was trying to understand. “You and Ced get the fuck out and stay out until yo’ shit is processed.” I didn’t offer her a chance to respond before I gave Sean a look to handle it and walked off.

  “Who is Ced?” Sean called out.

  “That fucking tooth,” I threw over my shoulder.

  Slipping into my office, I powered up the computer so I could print the reports. I liked to take the shit home where I could study it in peace.

  While the printer did its thing, I looked out over the club through one of my interior windows, liking how everything looked. Sean was good at what he did, mainly because he did exactly what the fuck his ass
was told. He was one of them stuffy corporate muthafuckas that liked being around hood shit. It was beneficial for us both.

  KNOCK! KNOCK!

  “Come in, the fuck?” I frowned.

  Nobody ever bothered me while I was here because there was no fucking need to. I didn’t socialize with the hoes that worked here, not even the bartenders, and Sean’s ass knew better.

  “Hey, sorry to bother you, but your sister is here to see you.” Sean peeked in.

  “My sister?” I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but if Jilly came through here and at this time, it must’ve been important as fuck. I checked my waist to be sure I had my heat on me, because if Nehemiah pulled some bullshit, I was pistol whipping cuz tonight. “Send her in.”

  “Sure thing.” Sean left out but returned almost right after. When I saw Brielle enter, I wanted to backhand her ass.

  “Thanks.” She nodded to Sean as he shut the door.

  “You got two and a half seconds to explain why yo’ ass is here.”

  “Before you think anything negative, I want to say that I am not here to try to rekindle anything we had. No, I will never stop loving you, but I’ve gotten over the idea and hopes that we’d be together.”

  “Why the fuck is you here?” I reiterated, not caring about that romance novel she was spitting.

  “While I’ve been away, I’ve really changed my life around. I got a better job, got married,” she showed me her ring, “and most importantly, I’ve grown closer to God.” She cleared her throat, pressing her fingertips into her small purse that she held at the front of her body. “During my journey of trying to live my life according to His will, I’ve thought a lot about my mother and how she died.”

  “If you don’t wrap this shit the fuck up…” I pulled my papers from the printer and put it into a fresh folder.

  “I am going to confess to her murder; I’m going to turn myself in.” She inhaled sharply, waiting for me to reply.

  “Nah, you not.” I shut the computer off.

  “I understand we had a deal, but I talked it over with God and my husband, and we’ve decided it would be right.”