* * *
“Turn the damn blow dryer off before you burn my scalp,” my mom shouted, throwing her hand up, almost hitting me and getting black nail polish onto my clothes.
Being that we had not gotten serviced at the nail salon, she was getting her own hands together but doing a piss-poor job. My mom wasn’t really the prissy type.
A stream of marijuana hit me in the face. I inhaled it and held my breath on the low. “My bad, but I’m not about to send you out here looking crazy. If I didn’t add enough heat to the glue and spritz, the tracks won’t hold to your head as tightly as I need them to. You ain’t about to come home screaming at me ’cause your tracks done sweated out to the floor.” Repositioning her head as gracefully as I could, I got back to work.
As gangster as my mom was, she was tender headed as hell. That was why she couldn’t get a sew-in. She’d have died from me French braiding it, then stitching the wefts down to her head. Therefore, I was only doing a quick weave. When I got done, I’d iron it since she hated curls, and I’d clean her eyebrows with a razor. At least twice a month, her room turned into a beauty shop, and I’d be in here getting her together. After the drama that unraveled earlier, I was sure I’d be filing and polishing her nails, too.
“If the streets don’t work out for you, Porsha, try your hand at being a beautician. I’ve gotta give you your props. There are bitches in the shop who can’t fry, dye, and lay some hair like you can. For real.”
“Thanks, Ma. I appreciate it.” I was really happy behind my mom complimenting me again. “The thought crossed my mind, especially after Imani’s mom said I had skills, but I’m almost done with the torture of school. I don’t know if I wanna jump back into someone’s classroom.” I was being honest.
“Well, as far as Imani’s mom goes, you better have charged that sludge rock. Don’t let me find out you’re through the hood passing out free styles or giving folks credit because you run with their kids.” My mom was always schooling and warning me. “And in regard to school, I was never a star pupil to teach you how to be one. But I’ve always been a hustler and about my money. With that being said, do what you’ve gotta do to keep money in ya pocket and food in ya mouth. Doing hair is a good skill to have because there’s always an ugly chick in need of assistance. Me and ya daddy won’t be around forever.”
I sighed. “I’ve got it, Ma. You didn’t raise a fool. I never touch a head without my cho’ first.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Porsha. Good girl. As long as you keep that attitude up, you’ll never fall from the throne your father and I have created for you. You’re a Jackson, and Jacksons never get cheated up outta our coins.” By now, she’d spun back to the mirror and was admiring herself while talking to me.
Whenever Trinity started talking about my family’s greatness and how I was blessed to be a product of her and Calvin, I spaced out. I’d heard the same speech in several variations and could recite it backward. I didn’t need to keep hearing I was on a pedestal for me to know it. I’d accepted that I was better than most people. No other family I knew of in the hood was driving luxury cars in real name-brand clothes.
“A’ight, Porsha, it’s been real hanging with you today, but girl time is over. I’ve gotta take some time to zone out and get my mind right before this cabaret. Pass me my blunt from the ashtray, then skedaddle. Your brother’s probably looking for you anyway.”
“Okay,” I quickly replied, all too eager to get out from under her. Today’s impromptu mother-daughter date wasn’t my idea in the first place, so she could save her flip-flopping-ass attitude for the cougars, young hoes, and even the tiny-tot thots who were gonna be checkin’ for my daddy tonight.
“Ma, is it cool for Imani to come over and kick it with me and Benzie while y’all are gone to the cabaret?” I held my breath, hoping she didn’t remember the dick pic she’d seen over my shoulder earlier.
She sighed like I was getting on her nerves. “Yeah, Porsha. I don’t care. Ya think I can get a li’l peace now?”
“Yup, I’m out of ya way. Have fun tonight.” I turned and left her room, not really caring if she had fun, because I knew for sure that I would.
Me: Come through when you’re ready. I got the go.
Me: Tonight. Don’t play me. I’m ready.
The first text was to Imani. The second was to Street.
* * *
Unlike the wild adventure-like day I had with our mom, Benzie had a much different experience with our dad. They kicked it, playing with toys, eating, and watching TV, which consisted of Calvin exposing him to sports. Dad never said it out loud, or at least in my presence, but I knew he loved having a boy, just like I knew my mom really liked having a girl, especially when it came to helping with cooking, cleaning, and tending to Benzie.
The whole house was a mess. My dad was a good dad, but not a great keeper. Like every boy I knew of, he was a slob when it came to cleaning up behind himself. There were crumbs all over the floor from the snacks he and Benzie ate, sippy cups of spoiled milk on the table, and old diapers scattered in a few places, which could’ve easily been thrown a few feet away in the trash. I didn’t know what my parents planned on doing when I moved, because that meant the maid would be moving too.
After I got the living room put back together, I burned a few candles to help with the spoiled milk and diaper smell, and I sprayed the furniture down with Lysol. I made sure all of my chores were immaculately done, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom as well as sweeping down the hallway stairs. I was able to get a load of clothes in before Benzie started shutting down from the sugar rush he’d been spinning on.
Li’l man had been shut off in his room, locked in by a gate, so he could still roam around but see inside my or our parents’ room if our doors were open. He couldn’t really walk yet but could crawl and pull up on stuff. Right now, though, he was flipping out, screaming and laughing at the same time. Because Daddy used to let me get Kool-Aid wasted and sing along with Zoe on Sesame Street until passing out whenever my mom was gone, I knew Benzie was only a few minutes from passing out. Sugar will take you high, then drop you low.
With red stains all over his shirt, sticky fingers, and a face covered in all the candy, ice cream, and chips he’d gotten to snack on, he was about to sleep good and be out for the night. That’d work out perfectly for me . . . well, Imani, since she was the one who’d be here babysitting him. To make sure of it, I gave him a bath, dinner, and a warm bottle of milk before laying him down and saying good night.
With the whole house fresh and clean, I locked myself in my room and did a search for some porno videos on YouTube. I was a virgin, and Street wasn’t. So I needed to school myself on the art of straight fuckin’. Girls were doing some of everything, taking it in the asshole, eating the asshole, and twirling like gymnasts on the dick. I didn’t know what Street was expecting, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything more than missionary, doggie style, and maybe a sixty-nine-dine if he was lucky. I couldn’t go from a freshman to a graduate in a couple of hours. He better hope I don’t back out on all the shit I’ve been talkin’.
After scrolling through a few videos that either weren’t exciting or were too much for me to even think about trying, I found one where the girl was cute and the guy was kinda built like Street. In my mind, it was us, and I was trying to put myself all the way in the girl’s shoes. When that night came and I was put on the spot, I wanted to be able to perform. I paid attention to how she sucked his dick, took his dick, and threw her pussy back on him when she wanted more of his dick.
When a text alert interrupted the porno, I had to hurry up and wipe the pre-cum from between my legs with my panties and then put on a new pair.
Imani: Open the door. I’m coming up the block.
Me: Okay. Be down in a sec. Don’t ring the doorbell.
The fact that I’d gotten moist meant I was really ready to have sex . . . well, at least to me. Even if I didn’t perform like ol’ girl, I was sure I’d st
ill give it up without telling him to stop out of fear. Clearing the browser history on my phone, I hurried out of my room and to the door to let Imani in.
Imani’s mom didn’t care that my parents were unconventional or that my dad trapped from the first level of our house. As long as I promised to do her hair for free, she let Imani come over without a problem. I was cool with that, especially since I’d made a few dollars off her coworkers from her modeling my styles at work. It hadn’t been much, but if I kept hooking her up with freebies, I thought I might build up a real good clientele.
“Damn, you weren’t playing about getting out of the house,” I greeted my girl.
“Yup, you know it. Your house is a vacation spot from my boring-ass house. My mom got so many rules that I don’t know if I’m living in a halfway house or the Army,” she joked but was dead-ass serious. “She said she wants three free styles for letting me come early, by the way.”
Trinity might’ve gotten into my ass on several occasions, but she didn’t ride me hard like Imani’s mammy rode her. Imani could barely go places, didn’t have name-brand clothes, and was talked down to on a regular like she wasn’t shit. The only reason she got to come over here was because her mom benefited. I did her hair, and she’d borrowed a few dollars here and there from my mom before. Now that Imani could work, though, she’d be the one chipping in on the bills when her momma was short. That shit right there I most definitely couldn’t relate to.
My ass whippings came with gifts, shopping sprees, and money. The only reason I was waiting on the 18 mark like a junkie in need of a hit was because I wanted the right to tell my parents no without consequences. I had a rebellious soul that was waiting to break out. Imani, however, was passively waiting on her eighteenth to disappear. That was where she and I differed. I wasn’t groomed to run.
“Hey, bae. I got a big bag of stuff together for you. Remind me to give it to you before I leave later,” I reminded her. I always gave Imani my hand-me-downs instead of throwing them in the trash. And if we were at the mall and I was in a friendly mood, I’d cash out on her a few outfits to walk out of the mall with, too. Me looking out for her had always kinda been my thang. You couldn’t put a hashtag of stinginess behind my name, especially when it came to my best friend.
“Aw, thanks. But don’t be trying to sweeten up because yo’ ass gonna be out gettin’ the dick while I’m watching your li’l brother. I’m cool. There’s a Sisterhood of Hip Hop marathon coming on in an hour.”
“Great. Now I really don’t feel bad. Fair exchange ain’t robbery.”
My mom kept a fridge of food, thanks to the government. They gave us $500 a month for the three of us, plus we stayed buying stamps from custos who couldn’t pay for their drugs with cash. There were three kitchens in this house, and each pantry, shelf, and fridge was stocked to capacity. After grabbing us some snacks and a soda pop each, we retreated into the living room and watched TV. Cable was another thing Imani’s momma couldn’t afford for them to have. I swore I couldn’t survive with Netflix and Hulu alone, and she wouldn’t have even that if it weren’t for me giving her my login and password.
While she flipped through the channels trying to find something to watch, I busied myself, texting her how things were gonna go down ahead of time. Once my parents left, I wouldn’t have time for much talking. My boo was on standby only two minutes away and ready to pull up. After I’d texted him that we were on for tonight, he’d anxiously responded by sending another dick pic with the caption, We’ll see. I wanted every second I was secretly stealing to be dedicated to showing him how ready I was. I didn’t know why, but I felt like tonight was my time to shine or to step the fuck back and grow up a li’l bit more.
CHAPTER 6
CALVIN
I’d been in the basement hooking up a few bags for Porsha to sell tonight while the wife and I were at the cabaret when I heard her little friend scurrying up the driveway. Imani was so consumed by her phone that she had not noticed me coming from the side door. I waited until she went inside with Porsha before moving from behind the dumpster and taking a seat on the porch. I didn’t like dealing with my daughter’s friends. Because little girls could cause a lot of trouble for a man like me, I never gave them the chance.
“Five dollars, Cal. All I need is a five-dollar credit until the first of the month.” One of my regular custos begged for me to give him a credit on the cheapest packages of rocks I sold.
“You know I don’t do credit, nigga. Either come with my money—and it can be in all pennies if you got it—or stay the fuck from around here and outta my face, rollie.” I called most of the heavy-hitting fiends around here rollie because they stayed high. In the hood, once you were stone-cold gone off the drugs, you were always rolling anyhow.
“I’ll have it when my check comes. You can be on the porch waiting for the mailman with me,” he pleaded one more time.
“Ay, on the real, rollie, quit mafuckin’ talking to me about credit before I silence ya ass for good. I already told you what it was around here, so be gone with that shit. I’m done talking.” Whipping my heater from the waistband of my pants, I loaded one up in the chamber, then looked him square in the face. “Five, four, three . . .” He ran away before I finished my countdown.
Terrified of feeling the heat of a bullet ripping through his flesh, he pissed his pants before being able to leap up and run away. I didn’t care about scaring a regular away. He wasn’t doing me any good today, and if I gave him credit, he’d never want to pay again. I didn’t get into the dope game to make friends. I got in it to make money.
Sitting back down on the porch, I set my pistol by my side and lit up a blunt. I’d been with Benzie all day and hadn’t smoked once. Though I’d put my piece in a nigga’s face with my li’l man strapped in the car seat and sold dope underneath where he slept, I didn’t want him mimicking me getting high. I wanted to raise a li’l monster, not a young ’head.
When I first got in the game, I was a young OG who had the stamina to bang with niggas twenty-four hours a day. I built a kingdom from a few grains of sand. I was seeing my family eat and live better than I did as a child and could have even imagined. At the same time, I kept the law off my back and bullets out of my body.
But every man has their day if they stay in the game. Old men were supposed to retire and live off the fat of the land at some point in life. I wanted to live out my life to spend my riches. My goal was to oversee my operation from another angle—out of the hood. I wanted to give my wife some peace out in the ’burbs with some wealthy wives, walkin’ a foo-foo dog or some shit. I wanted to give Benzie a big-ass backyard, playscape, and maybe a pond with some ducks in it. And I wanted to give Porsha her own li’l spot in a gated community away from all the bullshit the hood could bring to her life.
There was only one large hole in the plan, and that was that my team lacked the strength they needed to stand without my hands-on leadership. Though Street was trying to take a step on his own, coming at me like he wanted to grow my team and our revenue, he did not make me feel like he was going to be a strong fallback if I wanted to fall back out of the game. He was already hungry for power. Our conversation earlier made me realize that I had to remind the whole squad of niggas working underneath me that I was still the king of this dope shit.
“Hey, Daddy. Ma said for you to get your ass in the house to get ready. Her words and not mine.” Porsha came onto the porch, relaying my wife’s message.
“Okay, baby girl. But sit down for a second so we can chop it up.”
She sighed. “Right now, Dad?”
“What’s really up? You ain’t got time for your father all of a sudden?” Looking up at Porsha as she stood with her arms crossed and her hip thrown to the side, it was then I realized how grown she really was. Not only was she a mini-version of Trinity, but she had grown body parts that I couldn’t even look at. I wished I could turn back the hands of time to when she was running around with a sippy cup and a baby doll.
“Thanks, Daddy. Now maybe you can stay off my back some because you know I’ve been listening.” She cut her eyes at me with a smile on her face, already knowing my praise didn’t mean I was about to be any less of a professor when it came to teaching her the politics of the drug game.
“Nope, I don’t think so. I don’t wanna bust the bubble I just gave you, but you’ve still got a lot of breast milk on your breath. Don’t fuck up, thinking you know everything. Stay humble and pay attention to what I tell you. You need to know everything that I’m telling you and more. There’s so much shit out here, Porsha. I’m really trying to build something big for you and your brother so y’all don’t get swallowed in the hood like I did.”
She smacked her lips. “Daddy, you always be talkin’ like we live in a slum.”
“We might not be slumming, but we can do better, Porsha. A whole lot better. The fact that you think this ain’t slumming lets me know I need to show and expose you to more. But I’ll preach at you later about that.” I temporarily dropped the subject. “Other than the shit that popped off at that nail shop, did you and your mom have a good girls’ day out?”
“Yeah, it was cool. I had not expected to since she’d checked out on me earlier, but I did.”
I chuckled, then poured out a few sips of beer. “Ya momma stays checkin’ out. That’s a big reason why I’m so in love with her. And also why I’ve been keeping bail money with her name on it on reserve since I made her my wife. I see I’ma have to start keeping a few racks set aside for you too.”
“I guess, but I hope I don’t ever have to call on you to use it.”
“Me neither, baby girl. That’s why you’ve gotta know how to pick your battles. In addition to thinking smart and staying out of the way of the law, not everything and everyone needs a reaction. I’m not gonna be around to watch your back forever.” I kept it real with her, as it was my job to do.
Shorty Gotta Be Grown Page 5