I giggled. “I don’t know. I might have to if they have a car.”
“Fuck around and get a dumb nigga murked, Porsha. You already know I am not about to let you bring no chump ass into the fold.”
Calvin had no idea I had a crush on a dude who was already part of the fold, and I had every intention of keeping it that way. I would not make it to my eighteenth birthday if he found out I was creeping around with one of the dope boys from his main crew. Elvin “Street” Thomas had my young ass wide open, mind, body, and soul. I tried not even thinking about Street when I was around Cal or Fame because they would put a bullet in his dome, dick, and heart if they knew he was stroking their precious Porsha.
Finally, after two hours, the last batch of baggies was sealed up and ready for delivery. I was hella anxious to get out of the house, especially since Imani had hit me up an hour ago and said the field by her house was starting to jump. Imani lived on the same block as one of my father’s main trap houses. And once upon a few years ago, the field housed three different homes. But after the homes were abandoned and stripped down for years, the city tore the blight down, and we all turned it into a hangout spot.
CHAPTER 2
PORSHA
Back in the day when my father stayed on the block trapping all day, Imani and I used to ride bikes and jump rope together. She was my first real friend. That was before Nikola moved to the hood and started at our elementary school. She made our duo clique a trio one day during fifth grade recess, and it’d been that way since. There weren’t a lot of females I could tolerate, and Nikola was a lot like me. She and I got into more fights than Imani did.
Anyway, I knew the field was about to be jumping because the spring season was breaking through, and the sun was out. In bitter-cold-ass Michigan, we didn’t need it to be ninety degrees for us to hang outside. We were used to the bitter cold. It was about to be like an amusement park for thots. Although I didn’t fit in the category of a neighborhood freak per se, I could act little dehydrated at times, or a lot. I always acted out of character when I was around Street, though.
Street was 24, a certified thug, and reckless as fuck. His name fit him perfectly with his roughneck ass. He was gritty and straight gutta, just how I liked ’em. Day in and out, he hustled hella weight for my dad that helped feed my family. He moved more weight and made more pickups from my house than any other hustler from my dad’s team. Calvin stayed bragging about Street’s list of savage qualities and even labeled him a lionhearted moneymaker. My dad might’ve preached that he wanted a different type of man for me, but all I homed in on were Street’s thug accolades.
“Daddy, can I go over to Imani’s house after I give the last runner his package?” I lied, knowing the truth wouldn’t set me free. My dad would clown hard if he knew I was one of the fast-tailed girls he talked badly about.
“Yeah, but be home by nine o’clock. You’ve gotta watch Benzie tonight when me and ya momma go out. Oh, and before I forget, you will be going to school come Monday. I’m tired of that damn attendance officer leaving me voicemails. They left one saying a home visit was next if your attendance didn’t improve. And you already know I ain’t having no type of muthafuckas poking around my house.”
I rolled my eyes, sick of school altogether. I couldn’t wait to walk the stage. “Okay, Daddy. I’ll be back by nine and then up bright and early on Monday morning for torture. I’ll even get the homework they gave in school from Imani when I go over there and get it done over the weekend. I’ll play their little game since there’s only a month left.”
“Yeah, make sure that you do, Porsha. And even if the truancy office wasn’t on your head, I never intended for you not to care about your education. Me and ya momma both got high school diplomas, and you’re not about to fuck up the family tradition by not graduating. Getting a GED is a great achievement, and I’m not discrediting that, but do what you have to do to graduate. Are we speaking the same language?”
“Verbatim,” I answered, knowing when I needed to be serious. I wasn’t complying to shut him up. I actually wanted a diploma, even though all the pomp and circumstance that went along with graduation didn’t matter to me at all. I was more concerned with my birthday than prom, a senior trip, or even taking senior pictures. The only reason I’d signed up for the lock-in was so that I could sneak off with Street.
“Have you thought about what you want to do after high school? Or do you think you’re about to live off of me and pimp me for an apartment, car, and paying all your bills every month?” He leaned back in his movie recliner seat.
“I was actually thinking about asking Nikola if her trade school offered cosmetology, or looking into some schools myself. Since I’m good at doing hair, I might open a shop one day.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, baby girl. Do that shit, and I’ll front you the money you need to open it.”
“For real, Daddy?”
“Yeah, most definitely.”
“Yeah, and I’ll pitch in with your father to make sure all you have to focus on is getting you a gang of nappy-headed clients,” Fame chimed in, finally off his phone from arguing with his baby momma. He and Scooter went at it worse than Trinity and Calvin did on their worst day.
“With all this motivation, I’m going to start researching cosmetology schools this weekend.”
“Make sure that you do and you’re not just telling your old man what he wants to hear,” said my dad. “You’re good at the family business, but this ain’t gonna be your retirement plan like it’s been mine. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Okay, we’re done here. Make sure you put my business first before you go over to Imani’s.”
Right when I leaped up from my seat ready to break from the basement, my hopes of leaving sank at the sight of Trinity stumbling in with her glass of liquor. I froze dead in my tracks, thinking she must have had the house bugged with cameras and listening devices to always show up right on time. No one’s timing could be that damn perfect.
“Where do you think you’re about to sneak off to?” she questioned with her hands on her hips.
“Dad said I could go to Imani’s and drop these packages off.” I threw him under the bus, trying to divert her attention from me to him.
She looked at him, then back at me. “Naw, I don’t think so. You can dead that plan. We’re about to go on a mother-daughter date to the mall and out to eat. Then I need you to do my hair so I can be cute for the cabaret me and your dad are going to tonight.”
I tried my best to hide my disdain while being respectful. I didn’t want no part of a mother-daughter date after how she’d slapped me up earlier. “Dang, Ma, can I go over to Imani’s for at least an hour? I’m not just trying to hang with my girl, but find out what I missed in school as well,” I begged and lied all at the same time, pulling at strings. I wanted to see the boy I’d been crushing on hard.
“Get the hell out of here, Porsha. I must look like boo-boo the fool to you,” she responded in reference to me mentioning school. “Please don’t make me think we’re revisiting the same problem I told you not to muthafuckin’ revisit. I’ll be mad as hell if I’ve gotta waste my good liquor by tossing it in ya face.”
Tensing back up, I recognized her stance as the same one in my bedroom and quickly backed down. Seeing Imani or my crush wasn’t worth the beatdown. “No, no, no, no! We’re good. I’ll go get dressed.” I dropped the shenanigans.
“That’ll work. I’ll be ready when you are.”
“I swear I can’t wait until my birthday,” I mumbled with my head down, walking out the door.
“What did you say?” she called out, able to hear a ghost blow through the room.
“Nothing. I was just singing a song.” I played it off, knowing she knew better but was letting me slide. Once I was on the other side of the door, I slammed it.
“Calvin, ya better get ya daughter. The li’l heifer thinks I’m playing.” I heard her jump on my dad’s back about me.
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“Chill, Trinity. You be going too hard on that girl, for real.”
TRINITY
“What-the-fuck-ever, Cal. I am not doing anything but making our teenage daughter show me some respect. I know how I was with my mother once I found out she wasn’t gonna put her hands on me for real, and I refuse to go through that same shit with Porsha. You can buddy-buddy with her if you want and get burned.” I justified my behavior because I believed it was a surefire way to outsmart karma.
He threw his hands up and surrendered to me and the argument. “I ain’t even about to go back and forth with you if you’re bringing up your mother, because when you bring up Ma Dukes, I already know you are somewhere else in your head.” Calvin knew all too well about my past and how crazy it made me. “But I will advise you to remember that Porsha is your daughter and cut from a much rougher cloth than you were cut from.”
“Don’t you think I know that, nigga? Don’t tell me how to be a mother.” I poked my finger into his forehead and pushed it back.
Before I knew it, Calvin’s hands were around my throat.
CALVIN
“What the fuck is really wrong with your crazy ass, Trinity?” I applied pressure to my already-tight grip around her neck. “I didn’t want to beef with you. I tried falling back and giving you room to get the hell out of my space, and you’re trying to put some shit together for us to disagree about. All you had to do was take your aggressive ass upstairs. Why do you always got some slick shit to say to me like I won’t split yo’ shit?”
“Bro, come on, man. You know I’m not trying to get in the middle of your personal shit, but I also can’t let you muscle up Trinity in front of me.” Fame put his hand on my shoulder, and I nudged it off of me.
“Then leave. This shit ain’t got nothing to do with you. Period.” I wasn’t letting up on Trinity, because I was tired of her recklessness when it came to me.
“Damn, nigga, it’s like that?” Fame questioned but was still suiting up to leave.
“All day. I’ll holla at you later, though.”
Fame got ghost without saying another word. I never got in the mix between him and his baby momma Scooter whenever he was beating her ass, because I knew within the next minute he would be eating it. You can’t fight a couple, no matter how many muthafuckas you ride on in the streets together.
“I cannot believe you’ve got your hands on me, you bitch-ass nigga. You better go ahead and choke me out, because if I get free, I’m going to kill you,” she barked in my face. I smelled the Tito’s over the gum she was chewing, which made me loosen my grip. I knew my wife’s weaknesses more than she did.
“You ain’t gonna do shit but take your drunk ass upstairs, take a shower, and then brush the vodka you’ve been drinking off your breath. I thought you were going to ease up on that shit.”
“And I thought I asked you to ease up off my neck.” She peeled my fingers off of her and swung on me.
“Don’t make me collar you back up, Trinity. I let you get loose because I wanted to, not because of your strength. I suggest you leave me alone and get the hell on to wherever you are going with Porsha.”
“I swear to God and on my dead daddy that you better stop thinking you run shit around here, Calvin. And I dare you to put your hands back on me. You’ve already got to sleep with one eye open for that li’l fuck boy stunt you just pulled.” She swiped one of the bundles of cash I’d just collected from one of the workers and walked up the stairs.
I couldn’t do shit but laugh at my gangster boo. Her savage-ass ways were what made me check for her back in the day, and I was still madly attracted to her mentality. It did not matter what crazy shit we went through. Trinity was my soul mate. I would put a whole family on ice if she told me to. Watching her ass shake in the too-small shorts she was wearing, I grabbed at my bouncing dick and thought about going upstairs and fixing her attitude.
PORSHA
“I thought you said you were on your way over here. What’s taking you so long?” Imani answered my call while I was picking out something to wear to go out with Trinity in.
“Unfortunately, there’s been a change of plans. Trinity is up to her usual hating, so I’ve gotta go somewhere with her.”
“Aww, damn!” Imani was disappointed. “You can’t get your dad to get you out of it?”
“Nope, not this time. But I wish I could. Street hasn’t hit me up all day. Is he around there?” I was kinda hoping Imani would say no, but she didn’t.
“I think so, but he was on the porch with Pete Rock and Dantez when I walked past from school.”
“There weren’t any girls over there, were there?”
“Girl, bye! You know I was not looking that hard.” She was not lying. Of her, Nikola, and me, she was the shy and timid one. Nikola always joked and said Imani only kept us around so the neighborhood hoes did not tear off into her ass.
“Okay, well, hit me up if you see him up in a trick’s face.” I started rushing her off the phone so I could get dressed before my momma barged into my room on some more bullshit.
Even though Imani was nervous around boys, she did not mind dropping a dime on Street. If Street did something in her eyesight, Imani was telling it in detail. I had caught that nigga up in about ten lies this month alone based on her recall/retell of the situation. I had come to the conclusion that Street was going to be Street, and that simply meant he was going to do what he wanted to do.
It didn’t take me long to jump fresh. I kept it cute and simple in a pair of ripped jeans, a white tee, and boat shoes. My outfit matched the weather perfectly, plus it was fly enough to rock just in case I got back in time to go on the block. I could barely get dressed from Imani blowing my phone up over and over again with picture mail and messages. Super salty over how live it looked around her way, I temporarily sent all her calls to my block box to keep myself out of my feelings. Graduation and my birthday weren’t coming quickly enough.
Trinity swore she would only be five minutes, but of course, it had been double that by the time I was done getting dressed. I opened my Kindle application to pass the time. I’d been reading urban fiction ever since I saw a social media post on a blog site hyping up a few titles. After reading one story about chicks from the hood, I was hooked. If I went to school more often, not clowned while I was there, and grasped English, I’d have been a shoo-in to write a novel. Without a doubt, I was sure my story about how I grew up would sell millions. I’d been through just as much drama as many of the characters I had read about, if not more.
Even though the book was hella good, I couldn’t get into it because my mind was too wrapped up thinking about how I was going to spend the money my dad gave me. He’d filled my hand with bills to spend at the mall as a pre-gift for my birthday. I was happy to have the extra chicken, but he better be coming with more when the actual day arrived. I didn’t care that I was running around here, screaming grown. He and Trinity better have at least a parting gift for their only daughter.
After I got deep into a juicy chapter, Trinity stepped out the door, dressed to impress. Unlike a lot of the raggedy, no-style-having mammies around here who wore pajamas all day, mine was a true diva. Everyone on the outside looking in could tell she had money.
After putting her red cup of juice and alcohol into the cup holder, she tossed her oversized purse into the back seat. Calvin must have broken her off with way more money than me. I wasn’t hating, though. I was happy to have what I had. Plus, I knew Trinity wasn’t going to take me to the mall and not buy me something. I could say she was a lot of things, but selfish with her money was not one of them.
“I hope you’ve got your charger,” my mom said, plugging her phone in.
“Yup, it’s right here.” I dangled it, then buckled up in the passenger seat of her Ram truck. Trinity didn’t believe in tiny cars and even ran them off the road if they weren’t driving fast enough.
“All right, then let’s be out.” She threw the truck into reverse and backed out
of the driveway with her favorite rap track bumping.
CHAPTER 3
TRINITY
Calvin and I weren’t your average married couple with a kid, not even for one that was rooted within one of the worst neighborhoods in Detroit, Michigan. But what made us stand out was what made us stick together. Calvin was my soul mate, and I was certain that I was his Bonnie, his better half, and the voice in his head when it was time to murk a muthafucka. I made Calvin crazier. In spite of how much we bumped heads, we always bounced back together. I was glad he’d come and piped me down before I left the house so I could kick it with my daughter. Getting dick always had a way of calming me down.
My only daughter sat across from me, looking over the menu. She had not said much in the car, and neither had I, probably because of the events earlier. I wasn’t gonna apologize, though. It was my job to keep my foot on her neck. I was from the school of hard knocks. Granny Ruby whipped my mom with a switch. My mom welted me up with belts. So I was following in line and continuing the tradition by two-piecing Porsha up when she disrespected me or attempted to. Wasn’t no kid getting ready to square up with me or even get fooled by their imagination thinking they could fuck with me. Benzie would soon learn about me.
The waitress came, and we both ordered entrée fajitas with extra meat, Sprites with light ice, and bowls of our own queso. Mexican food was our favorite. As much as she and I bumped heads, we could always bond over a good meal. The only thing I ordered that Porsha couldn’t was a Patrón margarita. I kept a drink to my lips. With me, there was never a line drawn or a limit set to say “that’s enough.” I didn’t think I could function without alcohol in my system.
Shorty Gotta Be Grown Page 2