Shorty Gotta Be Grown

by T. C. Littles

  “Yo’ ass is all in that damn TV.”

  “Girl, yes. When you turn eighteen and move out, you better get some cable so I can come over there and watch TV too,” she joked.

  “Uh, yup. Okay. Whatever. You wanna hit this?” I ignored her, revealing the blunt and what my intentions were. I started lighting it up.

  “Damn, you ain’t playin’ tonight, I see. Okay. Yeah, I’ma hit that. Light it up.”

  One puff and the session I was getting ready to get started was stopped.

  “Yo, C-Note.” I heard a man’s voice yelling my father’s nickname outside. “Yo, C.” He was persistent as I tried catching the last few seconds of the show before it went to commercial. My parents could not have gotten up the block before the first customer came banging on the door to get served, and the flow had not let up since. My dad and his team must have had that one-hitter quitter.

  “He won’t be back until later tonight, boss man,” I hollered down off the top porch.

  “Can you help me?” he desperately asked.

  “Yup, yup, here I come.” I passed the blunt back to Imani and grabbed the Ziploc of baggies I was serving out of. I was supposed to take the customer’s order at the door, along with their money, then go upstairs for their package, but I had gotten too buzzed to keep running up and down the stairs. I could not wait until I sold out so I could stop trapping and do what I had been planning to do all day long.

  “Yo, what’cha want?” I swung the door open, checking my surroundings just in case somebody was trying to creep on me and using the fiend as a decoy. My vision was not as on point as it needed to be because of the weed. My eyes were heavy as hell.

  “Lemme get a dime bag,” he requested, looking like he was about to lean into a nod while talking. He was dressed in tattered clothes, in need of a haircut, and I could smell him through the cracks of the door. Yet and still, he was spending his only $10 with me.

  “No problem, I’ve got you once you come up outta that ten spot.” Being respectful to my elders was not a rule I had to abide by when slanging. I could talk as harsh, gritty, and out of pocket as I wanted to. I popped open the mail slot. Once the ten was in my hand, the baggie was put in his.

  “Are you for real, li’l Calvin? You know your pops holds me down during the month when I run out of my social security check.” He was running me the truth, but it did not matter. That was his and my dad’s deal, and that did not have anything to do with me.

  “Not that I need to explain myself, ol’ head, but whatever understanding you got with my daddy ain’t an understanding you got with me. When he is not here, baggies are full price. Period.” I was getting impatient because the commercial run was going off, and I heard some drama popping off. I had been watching reruns and now the season premiere was on, so I was not trying to miss a minute of the much-anticipated madness.

  “Li’l Cal—”

  He was gearing up to beg again, but I cut him off. “G’on and get the fuck off my porch. If you do not, I’ma call my daddy up and let him know you are giving me a problem. I already told you what it is, so say no more and bounce.” I did not want to call Cal because I did not want him coming home messing up my plans, but the threat would work on the custo.

  He backed down the steps without saying another word until he got to the last step. “I’m ’bout to go to the store to see if I can make a few dollars for a five-dollar bag. In case I cannot hustle up on it, though, can you call ya pops now and see if I can get that credit? I will be right back.” He literally ran up the street. He better hope he pitied himself up $5 because I was not about to jump on Cal’s radar for no bullshit.

  As soon as I got ready to slam the door, a new snowflake white Charger sitting on chrome wheels pulled up in front of the house, blasting its music. I stopped and stared hard.

  “Imani! Oh my God, Dread just pulled up. Look outside.” I started fidgeting and feeling froggish in my dingy jogging pants and T-shirt. Since I had been chilling in the house with my homegirl, I had not gotten dressed.

  “What is he doing here?” Imani asked, coming to the top of the steps.

  “I do not know, but pass me that blunt real quick so I can calm my nerves.” I ran halfway up the stairs and hit the blunt harder than I had all night. Dread was fine as hell and intimidated me more than Street did.

  Hearing the music from Dread’s car get louder, I saw the door was open and he was climbing out. “Okay, disappear, but stay close. Here he comes.” I pushed the blunt back into Imani’s hand, then ran back to the door.

  “Yo, li’l momma. What up?” He walked up on the porch. “I didn’t know you were C-Note’s seed. He here?”

  “Yeah, I am C-Note’s daughter. But no, he is not here. Were you trying to get some work? Or holla at him about working for him?”

  He snickered and pushed a few dreads that were dangling in front of his face behind his ear. “I do not work for nobody but myself, sweetheart. I was trying to cop some weight from your pops because I heard his shit is pure as hell, if I can be honest.” That meant his customers were leaving him bold because his package was bold, but I let Dread maintain his cockiness.

  “Oh, okay. Well, I can help you with that. Exactly how much were you trying to cop?”

  “What do you have access to?”

  “I got what you can spend.” My comeback was quick and catchy.

  “A’ight then, li’l boss.” He smirked, then pulled out a wad of cash. “Let me get a grand’s worth of the finest.”

  When the cash slid through the mail slot, my attention shifted from it to eye fucking Dread hard. If he was coming through with chicken like this, I was curious to know what his pockets looked like for real, for real. Ya know, on a day-to-day basis when he wasn’t trying to cop. Street never pulled out chedda like this, and he rolled for my moneymaking daddy. This nigga had my attention.

  Breaking the rules, I unlocked and opened the door and let him into the small hallway while I counted the hundreds and to let him stuff the product underneath his clothes. The truth was that I wanted to check him out a little more closely and see if he wanted to low-key holla. It would be nice having a dude to throw up in Street’s face, or at least one to take my attention off of Street when he tripped. I ended up having egg on my face when Dread-head didn’t give me a second glance or a compliment after getting the baggies. All he was concerned about was getting his weight and pushing the fuck on, and that was just what I let his ass do.

  I shook that shit off, figuring something had to be wrong with him. I was a bad bitch in my own right. I didn’t need him or no other nigga to build me up. When it came to my self-esteem, I was cockier than Amber Rose walking the slut walk. Besides, I had plans with Street, and he should’ve been the only hustler on my mind.

  Once the transaction was done, I let him out and slammed the door behind him, ecstatic as hell. Not because I had a grand’s worth of hundreds in my pocket, but because I’d sold completely out of baggies. With that being the case, I could slide up outta here on the sneak tip sooner rather than later. Making sure the door was bolted, I also put all the chains on to make sure no one ran in on us. This was a nightly precaution I, my dad, and my mom always did. You can never be too safe living in a trap house. After stashing the money for my mother to count in the morning, I texted Street to see if he was ready, then caught Imani up on the slight change of plans.

  “A’ight, girlie. My dude is on the way. Make sure you keep the TV down so Benzie doesn’t wake up, and keep the blinds closed. If anyone comes knocking to get served, ignore ’em. They’ll eventually go away. If you get scared or need me, call me,” I shouted over my shoulder at Imani, rushing to the bathroom. My phone was going off, and it was Street texting back saying he’d meet me in fifteen minutes.

  Even though I was pressed for time, I slowed down to wash between my legs. The prettiest bitch can easily be the ugliest bitch if her coochie smells tart, so I didn’t play when it came to keeping a clean monkey. To make sure I never became
a “Smelly Melly,” the “talked-about girl,” I freshened up and changed my panties twice a day. Washing up twice, then a third time just to feel extra fresh, I then sprayed some feminine spray on my thighs because it only seemed right to do so. I loved my juicy thighs, I swore I did.

  My hair was already fixed into a messy bun, so all I did was untie the sides and make sure the baby hairs were laid down with some edge control. Finally, I slid on the purple pajama lounge set I’d picked out earlier, which was a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a T-shirt. I’d purposely covered up my curves because I was totally exposed underneath. Street loved getting freaky, and I loved giving him easy access.

  He was texting me to come on by the time I finished sneaking from my mom’s bedroom with a pre-rolled blunt. Street said she always had the strongest shit. Sneaking one we could smoke was worth the risk of her finding out and me getting in trouble. However, if she asked me who I blew it down with, I’d lie and say Imani. Fingers crossed she’d never find out though.

  “I’m about to go, Imani. Don’t forget what I told you, and I’ll be back before my parents.” I spoke over my shoulder again, this time on my way out the door.

  “Ya ass better be,” I heard her scream back to me.

  I had to walk down a block then around the corner before getting into Street’s car. He was parked with the lights off by an abandoned house we’d randomly picked another night I’d snuck out. Even though he knew my parents were turning up at the annual hood cabaret, Elvin “Street” Thomas knew better than to pull up in front of my house. Why? ’Cause my pops wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his dome.

  Street was the exact type of nigga my daddy told me to stay away from, yet he was the prototype of the man my momma schooled me on snagging. Elvin was a hustler with money, swag, and clout in these streets. What they’d probably agree on if they knew about my sneaky behavior, though, was that Street was too old for me. I wasn’t trying to hear none of that with my birthday coming up. I was damn near grown, so I needed to be on a grown man’s arm.

  CHAPTER 9

  TRINITY

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout. Y’all got me in here sweating, and I ain’t doing nothin’ but spinnin’ tracks,” the DJ announced, then put a slower record on. “For the next few songs, I’m going to slow it down, giving my lovers a chance to two-step. You’re partying with DJ Beats, the man of music. Come by the booth with your requests.”

  Calvin and I were dancing our asses off. Instead of dwelling on the problem I had with him, I decided to keep my fronts up and enjoy our night, especially with his old trick continuously checkin’ for us. It felt good having the man she lusted for and got dissed by draped all over me, winning in her face, while she sat salty, wishing she were in my shoes. It felt hella good stunting on her now that I didn’t have pregnancy pimples and a flared nose. She couldn’t juice her ego up with jokes now. As hardcore as I was, I ain’t gonna lie and say she didn’t fuck with my self-esteem a little bit back then. How the tables had turned, though.

  She kept looking me up and down from head to toe with her face frowned up with hate, probably mad ’cause I wasn’t the ugly duckling she’d sized me up to be. From my flawlessly laid MAC makeup down to the polish on my toes, I was feeling myself and fucking her up at the same time. You couldn’t tell me nothing, and if you did, I wouldn’t listen. This was only the calm before the storm, though. I was the type of woman who liked to bark and bite.

  Every time I looked her way, she was already looking in mine. Calvin peeped it too, because he kept me calm and still with his hand firmly braced at the arch of my back. That didn’t mean my blood wasn’t boiling, however. I hated not being able to leap for a bitch with her boldly asking for some attention. I didn’t think that’d change with age. Like wine, I’d get better with age.

  “Sup, sis.” Fame came out of nowhere, hugging me.

  Calvin and he did a secret handshake, which was a man thing, followed by a manly hug that lasted for only a split second. We three were like family, being that we’d been breaking bread together since the day we broke down our first kilo. My momma didn’t have but five girls, so Fame was like the brother I never had. He and Calvin were so close that it wasn’t even a question as to who would be Porsha and Benzie’s godfather. And trust when I tell you Fame stepped up helluva for them both when he was called upon, and sometimes when he wasn’t. He was good people.

  “Hey, bro! Everything is all good,” I lied through my teeth with a smile.

  “That’s what’s up, sis. You lookin’ good, by the way.” Fame was trying to butter me up.

  “A’ight, nigga, put ya butter knife up before you spread the margarine too thin. You know a bitch can read bullshit in any language.” I picked his compliment apart.

  He laughed, knowing he’d been called out. “Damn, Trin, let a nigga at least think he slick,” he replied all in fun. “No wonder my partna stays on his toes.”

  Now it was my turn to snicker. Rolling my eyes only, I kept what I really wanted to say about Calvin being on his toes to myself. Not everything you know needs to be said, so I used my discretion. “Anyway, Fame, what’s up?”

  This time around, he got straight to the point. “I was trying to sweeten you up before I took Cal away for a second. I see y’all partying and shit, but I really need to holla at my partner about some business if that’s cool with you.”

  “No doubt it’s cool. Do y’all thang,” I blurted out almost too fast. The quicker Calvin got out of my face, the quicker I could put my fist through ol’ girl’s face again. Like I told her when I was pulling off from her house that day, the shit wasn’t never gonna be over.

  CALVIN

  Watching my wife walk over toward Nette to order some chicken, I gripped my dick, watching her fatty jiggle. I couldn’t wait to get her fine ass back home. With a firecracker like Trinity, I didn’t have time to be out here checkin’ for young girls and cheating. Well, not anymore. She was bodied. Ol’ girl I’d banged didn’t have nothing on Trin. She’d just come around when wifey was slowed down with Benzie’s pregnancy. When I made love to her tonight, I’d try to fuck the memory of my thoughtlessness out of her mind for good. I checked my hip for my heater before walking out the exit, then held the door open for Fame to walk out first.

  “Yo, that’s my bad if I created some friction between you and Trin. It wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to holla at you about what we kicked it about earlier,” Fame apologized, then spoke in code about me wanting to back up some from the game.

  “You good. It ain’t no thang. You already know Trin takes it to the max, and it didn’t help that ol’ girl I fucked when she was pregnant with Benzie is here.”

  “Aw, hell naw! I told you to buy that bitch a li’l crib, a used whip, and a one-way plane ticket to somewhere warm. Had you listened, she’d be on the beach in a bikini, trying to get the attention of some other pimp, instead of in there about to fuck up ya life,” Fame said, giving his advice.

  “Shiiit, real talk, I said fuck it after Trinity found out I was creeping. Ol’ girl is lucky I paid that high-ass dental bill I know she had altered. Didn’t no two front teeth cost no five fucking grand when you’ve got Medicaid. She got her come-up though, simply ’cause I figured that’s the least I could do.”

  Fame burst out in laughter. “Dog, I swear, Trinity ain’t to be fucked with. She had ol’ girl running around the city, looking like a toddler by the mouth. Her thotting ass was probably giving some hella head though, tickling a nigga’s dick with her tongue through the gap and shit.”

  A ho was a ho, so Fame’s direct disses about ol’ girl didn’t faze me. Yet and still, a nigga could live without the constant reminder that he and Trin kept hitting me in the gut with. “A’ight, Fame, we cool and all, but what’s up? You ain’t drag me up out of the cabaret from my wife to kick it about my ex jump off.”

  I wasn’t a playboy. I was a man. Cheating wasn’t the norm for me. Unlike a lot of cats who took pride in doing the
ir women wrong, I didn’t. I loved Trinity and the kids she gave birth to for me. Me fucking ol’ girl wasn’t because she was lacking as a woman, a partner, or even a mother, although she was rough around the edges. I cheated on Trinity because I thought Benzie wasn’t mine. Yeah, me and my wife shared some helluva secrets that we spent the same amount of time trying to cover up.

  “You’re right, the liquor and the backwoods got me tripping. That’s my bad, Brodie. Anyway, down to business.” After taking a cop, Fame looked over my shoulder, then reached underneath his shirt, whipping out his trusty heater.

  “What the fuck?” I murmured, confused, slightly buzzed, and slow on the draw.

  My drunken-induced disability didn’t stop shots from firing off and rocking the room.

  CHAPTER 10

  PORSHA

  Seeing a pair of headlights coming up the block, I peeked around the bush I was hiding behind to see my boo pulling up in his black-on-black Impala. He looked oh so fucking fine to me, bobbing his head to whatever rap track he was blasting. I couldn’t help myself from liking him. He had a powerful presence that turned me on. My pussy had a heartbeat whenever I was around Street. I was gonna have to make good on all the stuff I was texting him earlier. Shaking a few branches, I made my presence known so he wouldn’t be startled to shoot. Then I came from behind the bush.

  Street didn’t drive the flashiest car like most of the other hustlers from the hood, or even Dread-head from earlier, but it was clean and decked out with a sound system and rims. To me, Street was a winner. I didn’t have a car and barely had access to the three in my driveway. Calvin and Trinity only came up off the keys if they wanted me to run an errand. I was going to be pissed if I didn’t get at least a piece of a car for my birthday.

  “Hey, baby,” I sang to him, sliding into the passenger seat, greeted by a cloud of weed smoke. I caught a contact on instant.