Shorty Gotta Be Grown

by T. C. Littles

  Wop, wop!

  Her fist connected twice with my face, right underneath my eye. She’d knocked me into shock, temporarily. As soon as she got cocky enough to open her mouth to talk shit, I threw my fist down her throat. I went in her grill like a homeless hungry man, knocking her two front teeth out in the process. “Naw, baby girl, you ain’t got the right bitch.”

  Wop, wop!

  Wop, wop, wop!

  I wasn’t going out without a helluva fight. Brianna should’ve stayed the hell out of my space. Fighting her like I’d seen my mommy throw fists at chicks, I kept hitting her in the same exact spot each blow I served. As soon as I cracked the skin above her eye, I moved my hand lower to target the skin beneath it. I was trying to make her eye pop from its socket. Since she wanted to look funny, she could. Her muthafuckin’ wish was my command.

  I knew without a doubt this wasn’t going to be the last of these girls to try me, so I went in on shorty, making sure whoever saw our fight knew I’d be a helluva competitor.

  CHAPTER 27

  CALVIN

  “Say what? She’s where? And what happened?” Growling like a beast and yelling at the top of my lungs, I didn’t give a fuck about Elizabeth just sucking me off.

  Listening to the news she was delivering about my baby girl, I was foaming at the mouth, and it wasn’t from the coke. I now knew why she’d come in giving me a taste of the mind-altering drug and moistening my rod with her spit. Wouldn’t no man feel at ease, not a real man, while hearing his offspring was in a damn near no-win situation. I wanted every muthafucka up in this jail feeling my pain as I felt it now, especially the stankin’-ass pigs. They wanted the freedom of every immediate family member except for Benzie.

  Looking back and forth between the door and me, she tried getting me to lower my tone. “Calvin, please calm down. The guards you’ve already made enemies of are itching to drag you down into solitary confinement.” In spite of her being the voice of reason, I ignored her and attacked.

  “Quite frankly, if you can’t tell, I don’t give a fuck about them or you.” Slamming my fist down onto the table, rattling it, and knocking papers to the floor, I was ready to choke the nut she’d just swallowed back up from her stomach. “The person I give a fuck about is Porsha. With that being said, I suggest you pack ya briefcase up, straighten out ya wig, and hurry up outta here to get her case thrown out.” Hearing that my daughter was detained in a group home with charges pending against her for assaulting a cop had me enraged. Not even the woman I’d paid a hundred grand to was on my team at this point.

  One of the COs who’d dragged me down here opened the door to see what the commotion was about. I eyed his ass like I could serve him death if he wanted it like that, but Mrs. Hines threw her hands up, intervening so he’d back down. She knew my resume well.

  “Officer Baker, please back off some to give me and my client a little space to work over this case. You know I can handle myself, honey,” she sweet-talked him, making his chubby ass drool at the mouth. She was working her sexual magic on the CO as she’d done to me months ago.

  “That I do.” He blushed. “But if for any reason you need me, I’ll be right outside this door. And I won’t hesitate to put the cuffs back on him if need be.”

  “Thank you, Officer Baker. That won’t be necessary, but I’ll keep that in mind.”

  After adjusting his hard-on, the CO slammed the steel door, and Mrs. Hines’s eyes repositioned themselves on me.

  “Calvin, look, I can’t sugarcoat shit. Porsha is in a lot of trouble behind headbutting that cop. I’ll be going over to the group home to counsel her later today, but until then, I hope she stays quiet. They’ll hold anything she says against her, and you.”

  I sat still and silent. I’d never been in a position where I couldn’t protect my family. Being helpless made me feel crazy inside. I sat back, listening to all of what Mrs. Hines had to say, then advised her to make sure Porsha didn’t get stuck with any charges. For my sanity, I didn’t even ask about Benzie. Knowing my son was out in this world without his dad was fuckin’ with my sanity.

  A few minutes later, I was itching to conceal the pencil I was holding from Mrs. Hines’s briefcase so I could use it as a weapon to stab a nigga out later. From the police officer’s report of my “volatile attack” against him—his words and way of spinning shit, not mine—I was about to be resting my head up in here longer than I’d anticipated. That meant my team on the outside was gonna have to step it up to hold me and mine down. During this time was when I’d see who was real, who was fake, and who deserved death in return for disloyalty.

  “Calvin, you’re going to make it so my hands are tied. If you want me to work my magic on the judge presiding over your case, you’ve gotta do a complete three-sixty up in here and start keeping a low profile,” she advised me straightforwardly. “That means no fights with inmates, no additional ones with correctional officers, and please withstand from having sexual intercourse with any of the women COs. The last thing you need is some bitter-ass guard trying to keep ya dick locked up. Do you understand?”

  I snickered, truly amused with Mrs. Hines’s bossy demeanor. On the low, she wanted to make sure she was the only one getting dick served to her since Trinity was locked up. “Look, with all due respect. I’ll handle my time up in here how I need to in order to survive. And you, well, you better make sure you’re worth that hundred grand I’ve invested into ya polished ass that you probably jacked off on your li’l habit.”

  Elizabeth sat across from me in a pleated pants suit, red-sole Louboutin heels, and a fragrance floating off her skin that smelled like flowers. She was classy, sophisticated, but a coke head on the low. Pretty messy white girls usually were. Shorty better not let that habit be her downfall.

  Visibly taken aback by my comments, she snickered while scratching her head before responding. “Mr. Jackson, don’t let the polish, gloss, or coke I do fool you. I’m intelligent with degrees to prove it. Please don’t insult and belittle me again.” She was firm. “And yes, you paid me a hundred grand. Not only is it my business what I do with what I earn, but I gave you a discount. My services aren’t cheap, subpar, or what any other attorney within this region can offer you. Being that you have them, take advantage of them and know I will walk you out of here personally if you do as I say.” Not batting an eyelash, Elizabeth confronted me and my thuggish demeanor head-on. She didn’t even blink an eye.

  It didn’t matter if I believed her little spiel. I couldn’t do shit but fall back. Like I was in the process of teaching Porsha and had already taught Street, everybody has a role in life to play. “Yeah, a’ight. Let’s just move on before your fat-ass cop comes back in here lookin’ to get his ass beat.”

  She rolled her eyes, then got to work.

  She placed five manila envelopes in front of me. I flipped each one open and viewed what the boys had on me. Two of the folders had the information on the young dudes Fame and I killed and all of their personal information, including addresses. Both of their murders were pinned on me. I made a mental note of that information before opening the third folder. It was the biggest of the five and contained info on all of the suspected illegal items in my household, the paraphernalia from the trap, and all the seized cash. The folder also contained all the charges pending against Trinity and Porsha. My heart sank seeing the letter Trinity wrote in the interrogation room right after they arrested her.

  The fourth and fifth folders I looked in contained pictures, reports from private investigators, and testimonies. I tried memorizing everything in the snitch files, but Mrs. Hines told me the pertinent information within the files would be given to Fame later at their meeting. Off the rip, I knew he’d take care of anything dangling between me and my freedom.

  Mrs. Hines sat across the table from me with her eyes glued to my face the entire time I sorted through the papers and pictures in the files. She gave me the silence I needed to process everything, yet watched for twitches and expressions tha
t hinted toward my inner thoughts. I gave her nothing to work with, though. Her job wasn’t to pick me apart, but to get a judge in my back pocket. I was expecting her to go above and beyond doing that, too.

  Closing and then stacking the manila folders on top of one another, I slid them back across the table to her. “So, what’s your plan? I’d tell you what I’m thinking, but I don’t wanna insult your intelligence again.” I was being facetious but serious at the same time.

  “Nice joke, Mr. Jackson,” she replied, wearing a half smirk. “But with that pencil you’re about to snap in two, write down what you want relayed to Mr. Famous instead. While I’m working on a few technicalities and slipups made by the DPD, your right-hand man can clean the streets up on your behalf.” Her words were weighted.

  I knew exactly what she meant. Mrs. Hines might’ve been well-off and reserved, but her desperation to stay on top made her equally cut-throat. At the end of the day, she was down for anything, just like I was.

  CHAPTER 28

  FAME

  Standing outside of the Greyhound bus station, I pulled on a Newport, wishing it could’ve been the blunt I left in the car. The nicotine I was inhaling wasn’t hitting on shit to settle my nerves. If I wasn’t on the cusp of downtown, I’d be blowing my dope of choice out in the open without question. In this area, though, there were too many cops surveying and monitoring. I blended in the best I could, hoping my big black ass didn’t stand out too much.

  “Hey! Yo! What’s up? Ask the driver when he’s timed to pull in. I’ve been posted up outside of here for the last twenty minutes,” I barked into the phone to my cousin Cricket.

  “I ain’t gettin’ up askin’ that old white man shit, cuzzo. I don’t give a fuck how emancipated niggas is up here. Where I’m from, we still fear the pink-power piglets.”

  “Nawww, I know I didn’t send for ya ass from all the way down in the boonies of Tennessee for you to come up here on some scary shit,” I half teased and tested my cousin. I wanted to see how far he’d go.

  “Fame, you got me fucked up. I’ma pass the phone to my brother because he’s better with his words than I am. I don’t know what other way to tell you hell no, so hold on.” Cricket was the boldest, silliest nigga I knew, but you better not meet him at night.

  More reserved and the thinker of the two, Adam was also the oldest. He was the brother that monitored, kept his mouth closed until necessary, and made his first move the best one possible. I respected that, but he’d better respect me, my resume, and the street credentials it was loaded with.

  “What up doe, cuz?” Adam got on the cell phone, cool, calm, and collected.

  “Shit, a nigga ain’t doing nothing but trying to find out where y’all asses be at. According to the text message ya bro sent, that muthafuckin’ driver was supposed to be pulling into this station thirty minutes ago.” I was aggravated and antsy. With the amount of chaos unfolding in the hood, I needed to be in the thick of thangs, not puffing on a Newport, watching travelers go to and fro.

  “Chief, are you serious right now? I’ma need you to take a Xanax or whatever it is y’all up-north niggas pop and swallow to chill out. I’m riding with my bro on this one. You iggin’ out on some shit none of us can control. We ain’t whippin’ the Scooby-Doo van.” He referred to the automobile they did missions in at home.

  On the last trip I made down to Tennessee, I bounced around in the back of the seatless van as they kidnapped and beheaded a white boy who’d racially disrespected their momma, my auntie. It wasn’t that they owed me one for my involvement in the gruesome murder. We were family, and that was how I showed my love. Cricket, Adam, and I were like brothers split from the same rib.

  Anyway, Adam was speaking the truth. They weren’t controlling the steering wheel. When I placed the call to them a few days ago to come up here, I already had bus reservation information on hand along with the code they needed to scoop up some cash from Western Union. I paid them niggas five grand each just to make the trip, and I promised boss statuses on arrival.

  The only thing I could promise as of now, though, was a lot of dirty work. With Calvin being knocked, wasn’t none of us sitting on the thrones we’d been plotting on protecting. I needed my goon-ass country cousins to help me shake these Detroit muthafuckas up.

  “Be ready to work, fam.”

  “I stay ready. You know what it is. But I’ll get at you when I get there. You know I can’t stand nosy muthafuckas, and I got a bunch of faces in my mouth tryin’ to be a part of my conversation and shit.”

  “A’ight, no doubt. Holla.”

  We disconnected the call, and I flicked the finished cigarette to the ground. Shit was all the way wrecked. I’d yet to hear from Calvin. I didn’t know why he’d been knocked, but I did know the Carter was still surrounded by cops and the trap spot on the block was completely dry of product.

  I couldn’t wait to get back into my element so I could start making moves. If shit worked out the way it was supposed to, I’d have some weight for Pete Rock to move before the sun set. I might’ve not communicated with my ace yet, but I knew not to stall when it came to making business moves. Lighting up another Newport, I saw a few buses bending the corner to whip up in the station. I hoped one of the three was carrying Adam and Cricket so we could be out.

  Bzz! Bzzzzz!

  Thinking it was one of my cousins calling back, I dug my vibrating phone from my pocket to answer it but hesitated, seeing the Michigan suburb number. I ain’t fuck with too many muthafuckas outside of the 313, and if I did, I fa’ damn sho’ had their numbers saved. I started not to answer, but something told me to.

  “Yo,” I answered, being short on purpose. If the person didn’t catch my voice to know me, they shouldn’t have been calling anyway.

  “Hello, may I speak to Mr. Famous? This is Elizabeth Hines.” The proper voice made me stand straight up.

  “Yeah, hold on, ma.” Flicking the cigarette to the pavement, I put it out with the sole of my shoe, then walked up the block where there weren’t a lot of people around listening. Elizabeth Hines was Calvin’s lawyer, among other things. I’d been waiting for her to call. “My bad, I’m back. What’s the word, Liz?”

  She sighed. “Meet me at my office in about an hour or so. There’s a lot we must discuss. It’s going to take a lot of magic to get your friend home.” She was vague, then ended the call.

  Attorney Elizabeth Hines didn’t have to go into detail. Her saying the word “magic” to me was all I needed to hear to know I was about to make some bodies come up missing. Walking back toward the bus station, I lit another square up. I couldn’t wait to start making moves so my manz could get back on the streets. If magic is what Calvin needs, magic is what he’ll get.

  My cousins were standing in front when I walked back up. With two big, stuffed duffel bags each the size of a grown body, I knew their asses were about to be pissed they were gonna have to walk a few blocks down and then catch a city bus a mile down to my car. I had not parked nowhere near downtown Detroit with dirty tags on my license plate and dope in the car.

  * * *

  “What the fuck, fam? Real talk, if you was any other nigga or we ain’t have the same blood running through our veins, I’d lay these country hands on you for getting me up here under false pretenses,” Cricket barked from the back seat.

  I chuckled like a crazy man. “Naw, muthafucka. You’re the one who’s lucky my auntie May raised ya ass to know better.”

  “Damn, y’all two niggas arguing like some females,” Adam complained. “After that long-ass bus ride, I ain’t trying to hear shit but the crackle of this blunt wrap burning as I inhale the weed within it.”

  “Then hurry up and hit it so you can pass it back here. Maybe I’d be on chill if I could get a few puffs in with ya hogging ass.”

  The three of us had been going back and forth on petty shit since I told them we had to catch the bus to my car. Wasn’t none of our threats serious though, just three cornbread-fed cousins linked
back up. Me, Adam, and Cricket, whose real name is Christopher, were raised like brothers. There wasn’t shit neither of them could’ve done that I wouldn’t be willing to excuse.

  On the ride to the hood, I revealed to them all the turmoil my crew was involved in. They knew Calvin and respected him, so past all the jokes, they were willing to body whoever it was gonna take to get him out of jail. Me and Cal might’ve served as each other’s right-hand men, but there ain’t no better feeling than having ya fam covering ya back. One hundred.

  CHAPTER 29

  PORSHA

  One of the staff members popped her head into the private room they’d transferred me to. “Hey, Porsha. Your lawyer is in the conference room.”

  With a cold rag on my head, I was trying my best to keep the swelling down. It was also helping to keep me sorta cool, too. Though this room wasn’t a sweat box, it was hot as hell in here. Ol’ girl Brianna rightfully earned bragging rights when it came to the lump on my forehead, the cut on my chin, and the sore jaw I kept hearing pop when I moved it. She’d landed some helluva haymakers to my face even after I’d knocked her teeth out.

  After putting my shirt back on, I slid off of the cot I’d been resting on and shuffled my feet out the door and down the hallway. I was right behind a guard. We had to be escorted everywhere. I wasn’t in a rush to see whatever lawyer the State paid to represent me. From the stories Street had told me about a few of his associates who’d fallen in the game and were in jail, state-appointed attorneys weren’t shit but fillers put in place to get more evidence to help the prosecutors fuck you with. I wasn’t helping no man or woman work against me. I ain’t no fool. I knew all the lawyers were friends and made deals with one another. I’d watched Better Call Saul and Law & Order.

  I walked into the conference room with my face screwed up and my mouth twisted into a frown. I wasn’t a nice girl. I was a mean girl who missed my mom, dad, and brother. The quicker this meeting was over, the quicker I could get back to my cot and plot how I was going to square up with Brianna if she ran up on me again.