“And making his old man proud.” I hoped Street was speaking the truth. “Is everything moving smoothly on the block?”
“Ain’t nobody complaining about not eating, and we keep selling out, so I’ma say shit’s all good,” he confidently replied.
“No news is always good news.” I liked his report.
“I heard that, boss. But being that the block is slow and steady money, why don’t we branch out and start serving product in another territory? I’ve already got a few li’l niggas who wanna come push weight with me, but there ain’t no room on the block.” It was obvious Street had not waited for the green light from me to start fleshing out his business plan.
I nodded and rubbed at my chin, letting what he put onto the floor soak in. It had been a minute since I’d studied Street with a critical eye, but his tenacity had me wondering if it was time to clip his wings or let him fly. I might have trained him a little too well.
“Okay, son. You’ve got my ear. Tell me what you’ve been thinking,” I strategically quizzed.
“Nothing major, but a li’l, low-key spot. Me and Pete Rock can run in on an abandoned house that ain’t been stripped down yet and set up shop.”
“Do you really think you are ready to run two spots?” I questioned condescendingly, knowing I was getting ready to shut his plan down. His plan came with too much risk, and I was comfortable sitting on top.
“No disrespect, boss, but I’ve got the hustle in me, and I’m hungry. I’ve got a big appetite, and I’ve gotta eat. I’ve gotta get out here and put my foot to these nigga’s necks and make a name for myself that will hold some weight.” I saw the savage mentality Street had embedded within him bleeding through his eyes. Running one trap house was not good enough for him anymore.
“Look, son, what I’m about to say is not going to be what you want to hear, but it will be what you need to hear. There are levels to this shit, and you are not at the level where you can run shit in two different spots.” I watched him slouch into the couch.
“I can respect that, Cal. But I do not agree with that. I’m a beast in these streets.”
“I know that, which is why I put you in charge of the block in the first place. Don’t mistake my carefulness for doubt. Make no mistake about it, you’ve got my eyes and ears open. I am definitely thinking about what you’ve suggested, but that doesn’t mean I’m getting ready to give you the green light on shit past taking a li’l bit more off the top for ya pockets. We’ve all got set positions that must be played for a little while longer. Are you good with that decision for now, or do we need to have a different conversation? Are we good?” I questioned, knowing I wasn’t getting ready to compromise or bend with what I already offered. I wanted to see where his head was at.
“Yeah, boss. We’re good, no doubt.” He dropped the subject, then was saved by my ringing phone.
Swooping my cell off the table when I saw Daddy’s Princess on the screen, I dismissed Street. “A’ight, son. I’ll be on the block in a few to see how shit is lying.”
Already knowing I put my family first, he got ghost without another word.
“Hey, baby girl, what’s up?” I answered Porsha’s call.
“Calvin! I’m caught up in some shit and need your help.” My wife’s voice came through the headset.
“Say less. Where are you at?” I slid my pistol in my waistband and picked up Benzie. Hesitation was not a word in my vocabulary when it came to me seeing after mine.
PORSHA
“I want this woman arrested. Call the Dearborn Police,” the loudmouthed lady said, making a scene.
“Ma’am, we’re not going to keep telling you to calm down and let us do our jobs,” the security guard warned the lady again. Then he turned to my mother. “Ma’am, I need to check your purse,” he demanded.
“Oh, hell naw! You can miss me with that search shit you are talking. Y’all ain’t got no warrant, and y’all aren’t the police,” my mother responded.
“We’ve got a complaint, and that is all we need,” the guard responded, stepping toward me. “But the lady’s right. I can call the Dearborn Police and let them handle it.”
Moving quickly, I leaned between the chairs where both our purses were on the floor and grabbed her bag like it was mine while pushing mine closer to her chair at the same time. Although my heart was racing and my palms were sweaty, I had been in enough sticky situations with my parents to know how to think efficiently under pressure.
“I don’t want to be in the middle of all this. Let me get out of the way,” I said, playing like I was disgusted and wanted no part of the drama. But I was plotting to get out of the nail salon and the mall with my mom’s gun.
People within the shop saw me, but their mouths stayed shut as I switched our purses and pulled a fast move on the security guard. I was not about to let my momma get locked up behind her concealing a pistol without a license. My personal grievances or how we bumped heads had nothing to do with me having her back. I was going to hold my momma, my daddy, and Benzie down until the world ended.
As I tiptoed across the floor with wet, bare feet, my knuckles ached from clutching her purse as tightly as I could.
“Ma’am, pass me your purse. Please do not make me request it again.” The guard’s voice shook the room.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw my mom handing my purse over to him with a shocked expression painted on her face. That was when I exited the nail shop as quietly as I could and walked as quickly as I could in the opposite direction of where the guard and loudmouthed lady were standing. I was walking so fast that I was damn near tripping over my own two feet. I did not want to run and bump into people and bring attention to myself. But as soon as I walked out the mall’s exit, I broke out like a track star in a track-meet race. I was running so fast and hard that the bottoms of my feet were starting to burn from the pavement.
Ducking in between two cars, I rummaged through the big-ass duffle bag my mom called a purse for her keys. I did not want to get caught holding the dirty pistol. Pulling out wads of cash, the pistol itself, and a bunch of paperwork about my grandma’s house, I still could not find the keys. I was about to scream out from frustration until her cell phone started ringing, vibrating, and lighting up.
My baby P was what the screen read, which meant the call was coming from my phone.
“Shit,” I whispered, not knowing for sure that it was my mom and not the guard.
My mother presenting him a purse of teenager items and an identification card that did not have her picture on it was reason enough for me to fear that my trickery had been exposed. I had never been so nervous. Nor had I ever felt such a strong nauseating feeling in the pit of my stomach. Having a dirty pistol in my possession without Trin and Cal around to protect me had me shaken the fuck up. I could not resist sending the call to voicemail.
Finally fishing out her keys, I bit my lip and peeked over the hood of the car I was hiding behind, making sure the coast was clear to take off. The truck was parked a few rows over. A few people going into the mall saw me creeping through the parking lot suspiciously, but I did not have time to worry about their reactions. Getting to Trinity’s truck was my only concern.
Trinity’s phone rang and damn near made me jump out of my skin. I completely froze when I saw Husband on the screen. It was my daddy.
“Hello! Daddy, oh my God! Ma got into trouble! We’re out at Fairlane, and some stuff happened, and I got her—” I was trying to run off what was going on but was out of breath. He had cut me off anyway.
“Hey! I already know what’s up. Ya momma said pull up on her at the bus stop and answer the phone. You’ve got this, Porsha. You’re a Jackson. Cut all that coward shit out. Fear will get you caught, and you need to make sure you and your mother get out of there,” he said, getting me back on my A game.
I listened to my dad give me a pep talk while I jogged the rest of the way to the truck. With him coaching me over the phone, I felt in control and like everything wa
s going to work out in my and Trinity’s favor. My daddy always made me feel safe and secure.
By the time I climbed into the driver’s seat and revved the engine, my mom was beeping in on the other line. I was not able to finish clicking over before she was screaming.
“Where the hell are you at, Porsha? What’s taking ya ass so long?”
“I just got in the truck. I’m not a track star. I had to run damn near all the way around the mall,” I shouted with attitude, pissed that she was acting ungrateful when I’d just put my neck on the line for her. I was tired of her acting like I hadn’t been holding my own.
TRINITY
I heard the attitude in Porsha’s voice and wanted to jump through the phone and strangle her wannabe-grown ass for yelling at me. Fuck that she had just taken a risk for me and could possibly catch some heat behind having a gun in her possession if she did not get out of dodge with the quickness.
“Well, hurry up. That ho-ass guard told me to be gone before Dearborn Police show up. He called out a squad car when they realized I had a teen’s purse, but that wasn’t enough of a reason to hold me. I don’t know what slick shit they’ve got planned, but we need to be out of this city, ya dig?”
“Oh, wow.” She gasped. “I’m almost there, Ma. I’m coming around the bend near the restaurants now.”
“A’ight, cool,” I replied, trying to sound like I was in control, though I was panting and looking around nervously like every vehicle speeding into the mall’s entrance was a squad car.
I was usually never off my square, but racism was alive no matter who said different. As diverse as Dearborn was, they hated black people. I was not trying to have my body ripped with bullets and the fatality report reading like I unloaded first.
“Get out of the way! What’cha gonna do? Not shit, so keep driving.” Porsha was honking the horn and yelling at pedestrians. I heard the horn blowing not only over the phone, but close by. Porsha was coasting around the bend on two wheels.
“If you tear my muthafuckin’ truck up, I swear I’ma kill yo’ ass,” I yelled, rushing toward the road to meet her. The quicker we could get on the freeway, the better.
Slamming on the brakes, she threw the truck in park and hopped over the console to the passenger seat so I could drive. Seeing Porsha in action was like looking at the younger me when I used to ride out on missions with her father. He and I used to set the city on fire doing dirty before he knocked me up.
“Ma! Come on,” she cried out, visibly shaken like she was ready to break from the pressure she was under.
“We’re straight. I got you, baby girl,” I said in a calming tone so she’d chill out. I gave her her shoes, which she’d left at the shop and I’d managed to grab. “You did good. Hella good.” I sincerely thanked her, knowing I owed her big time. I would have been cuffed in the back seat of a squad car facing five years for having the pistol.
“Ma, this shit is crazy. I can’t believe this is happening.” Porsha was frantic, looking back and forth between the mirrors and me as I drove as cautiously and quickly as I could.
“Keep ya eyes out of the rearview mirror. We ain’t looking back. We’re pushing forward,” I barked at her. “This ain’t ya first time riding shotgun or at least in the whip behind some crazy shit me and ya father got into. You know I’ma get you home in one piece. Don’t doubt me. Matter of fact, dial ya daddy up and hand me the phone. Then get ya’self together.”
Swooping down onto the freeway, I slowed down to the speed limit until I crossed into the city of Detroit. The last thing I needed to happen was for us to get flicked.
“Here, Ma. Daddy wants to talk to you.” Porsha passed me the phone.
“Man down, nigga. I know yo’ ass got my baby and is riding dirty on your way to save me, but I am straight now. Porsha actually saved me. I will tell you about it when we get home, but I’m going to make a quick stop first.”
“Um, don’t you think you should take yo’ hot ass to the crib and tuck that pistol before you somewhere else?”
“Naw, I’m straight. We will be in the city. Plus, you know I’m not going nowhere without my heat.”
“A’ight, man. Can’t nobody tell your thick-skulled ass shit. I’ll see you when y’all get home. Don’t call me no more if you get in trouble.” I knew he did not mean that last line before he hung up.
“Ma, where are we about to go?” Porsha asked.
“It is a surprise. I was going to wait until closer to your birthday, but your display of loyalty today is worth giving it to you now.”
I saw her beaming out of the side of my eye. It felt good making my daughter smile since I was always swinging on her ass.
CHAPTER 5
PORSHA
It felt good as hell hearing my mother praise me to my daddy, and even better when she thanked me. I loved it when she gave me props. It felt a lot better than beefing with her. I spent so much time getting smart, and she spent so much time keeping me in check, that the “good job” moments were rare. The more details she gave about the story, the more at ease I felt. Today wasn’t turning out to be that bad after all. My mom and I had gone from enemies to aces in less than a couple of hours.
With so much going on and for me to gossip about with Imani, I unblocked her calls and messages. She was the only friend I had to kick it with for real, but I wasn’t able to get the first text message typed before my phone was blowing up with picture mail. Imani had been texting me the whole damn time she’d been restricted. There were photos from ol’ boy I was crushing on and photos from this bottom-feeder chick who was crushing hard on him too.
My mood turned sour again. In almost every picture, the girl was either all in his face or draped all over him like a down blanket in the wintertime. I wanted to throw up in my mouth. I wasn’t his girl, so I couldn’t technically check ol’ boy, but I’d be making sure Jamika gave him fifty feet the next time I wasn’t around. All I needed was a li’l more time to lock him down for all these hoes to know who he’d really been creepin’ up behind on the low. I’d never given Street the pussy within my panties, but I knew he wanted it. And true story, I wanted him to have it.
As I was all into my phone, staring at the pictures and trying to figure out how to respond and if I should, my mother’s voice snapped me back into reality. I almost fumbled and dropped the phone to the floor.
“Ay! Yo! Earth to Porsha. Quit running ya damn mouth and let me get ya attention for a second.”
I looked up and gasped. “Ma! For real?”
We were parked in the lot of a boutique that sold not only one-of-a-kind pieces but custom-designed pieces as well. I’d been following their page on Instagram for a few months and always liked their pictures. I even entered a contest and was blowing up everyone’s timeline, trying to win a custom dress for my birthday.
“Ma, come on and answer me before I pass out. Are we here for me? What’chu know about this place? Huh?”
“Girl, shut the hell up. Yeah, we’re here for you. I know everything you think I didn’t know,” she replied, throwing her hand up playfully. “But for real, I appreciate you looking out and stepping up at the nail shop. You’ve redeemed yourself one hundred percent from earlier for sure. The shit you did shows you’re ’bout ready to be an adult.” Her voice cracked. She was trying to lighten the mushiness, not wanting to wear her emotions on her sleeve and seem soft. “Anyway, coming here now is an early birthday/thank-you gift. Order you a custom outfit, and then I’ll buy you a couple of thangs, too.”
I jumped across the middle console of the truck and was damn near in her lap, hugging her. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Yeah, after all that shit you were talking earlier about not giving me a thank-you, I see ya ass taking a cop now.”
“Yup, I sure am. And with that being said, I’m about to go in before you change your mind.” I leaped out of the truck and busted through the boutique doors. I swore I loved growing up with so much fast cash.
Trinity ende
d up flexin’ on ’em in the boutique, spending almost a rack. She let me order two custom dresses and get a few of the stoned-out bras to wear underneath certain shirts for the upcoming summer and a couple of pairs of ripped jeans. I was too excited. I was about to be fly as hell stepping into adulthood. Any chick who had eyes on Street were gonna have their eyes on the baddest bitch on his side—me.
Trinity thought she was simply getting me together so I could be fashionable, cute, and envied by all the girls my age, but she was really helping me be a fast ass at the moment. I’d sent ol’ boy at least five pictures of me in the bras, and one with my nipples showing. I was intentionally trying to steal whatever attention he was still giving her way. When he responded with a dick pic with a caption reading, Let a nigga know when u ready 2 hop up on it, I fumbled the phone, having more attention than I knew what to do with.
“Humph, maybe I should’ve taken ya ass to the damn clinic for some birth control,” Trinity blurted out, making me do more than fumble the phone, but drop it.
Like an FBI agent, she’d snuck up and was this time over my shoulder into my cell’s screen. I was shaken, completely silent, and still, especially when she picked my phone up off the floor.
“Let me find out it’s too late and you’ve already fucked up, Porsha. You already know I’ll run a hanger up in ya twat myself. I’m too fly to be a grandma. Shiiiiiit, I was too fly to be a momma.” After pausing like she was having an epiphany, she spoke again. “On second thought, scratch all that. A pussy’s gonna do what a pussy’s gonna do. So if you wanna play grown, you’re gonna be grown, and there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re about to be eighteen, so hey, do you. Hurry up so we can hit the beauty supply and get home. You’ve still gotta do my hair, and in exchange for me keeping that trifling-ass picture a secret from ya father, I’ma need something super sweet.”
Shorty Gotta Be Grown Page 4