Since the time they’d walked her up outta here all bloody but still trying to talk shit, I’d been thinking about all the times Trinity had left me with bruises from beatdowns. I was gonna be ready to take ol’ Brianna all the way up outta the game the next time she tried me. I’d been trained by the baddest bitch in the game to box hoes out.
Being a crab and as difficult as I could be for no reason at all, I leaned against the wall and folded my arms with an attitude. I looked straight into the attorney’s face, and she didn’t blink, fret, or look even the least bit amused by my behavior. Her boldness was what made me step outside of myself, being so self-absorbed like I was detained without human rights, and take note of her. There was something about her.
“Look, your father’s not the only cash cow paying me. I have a lot of cases to work, so please save your teenage attitude for the girls in this group home. Of course I’m versed in your record, so I know you’ve had a rough start.”
I didn’t know how to take her last comment, but I let it fly over my shoulder. It was the first statement from her mouth that had a smile plastered on my face.
“My dad sent you? You work for us?”
She smirked, rolling her eyes to the side like there was a pleasant thought running through her mind. “Yup, you are your father’s child indeed.”
“And my mother’s.” I put emphasis on the word “mother’s.” For some reason, I felt the need to throw that obvious point out there.
Batting her eyelashes, she looked like she took pride in what she was about to say. “Porsha, my name is Mrs. Hines. I work for your father because he’s the one paying me to make sure you walk out of here with a clean name and a fresh start. Your mother is your mother. Let’s not have that misunderstanding again.”
If she wanted to be a smart ass, I’d jump petty to meet her on her level. “My daddy always said a winner proves themselves and a loser announces their accolades. Verbiage doesn’t make me shit, Mrs. Hines.” Cockily speaking, I sat across from her with my arms folded and my bruises exposed. I also had my lips twisted up and my eyes rolling each time I blinked them. Whether she was paid by my daddy or not, I wasn’t feeling this Mrs. Hines chick, and I wanted her to know it.
She shook her head and rolled her eyes back, seeming completely unmoved by my posture and tone. “I bet being transferred to a woman’s correctional facility like ya momma would make you shit,” she clapped back, then made a facial expression I read as “bitch, what.”
I shouldn’t have been thrown off my square, because she was hired by my daddy, and he only associated with thugs, but this lady had me fooled with her dressed-up ass. It only took a few seconds for her words to linger to have an effect on me. No matter how hard I thought I was, or might’ve been when throwing my fists on Jamika, I wasn’t ready to be locked up with no real-deal Holyfields. This baby jail I’d been put in was too much.
Mrs. Hines picked up on my silence and even the uneasiness in my body language. I knew she had to have, because I was no longer being bold, being disrespectful, and spewing bullshit her way. Instead, I was slouched in my seat with my head hung low, worried that I’d already gone too far to redeem myself.
“Oh, okay. It looks like you’re ready to be a big girl and get down to business.” She snuck in another diss, purposely antagonizing me. “I’m glad it doesn’t take you long to catch on.”
Ain’t shit about life sweet right now, I know. I’ve told you since birth I was gonna protect you, and I’m sorry to have failed you. I fucked up. Ya old man fucked up, P, but that shit ain’t on you. You can’t carry my years. You ain’t ready for my walk. Your place is out in the world, being the daughter I raised you to be. Point blank, you can’t be swaying on the po-po. Not in a lifetime. Chill ya feisty ass out, and let Mrs. Hines walk you out of there when it’s time. Do what I say or I’ma fuck you up, P. Don’t think ya dad can’t touch you from in here. If I don’t come home, I need you home for Benzie. You know how I feel about family, our family. Don’t let me down. Don’t let me down. I meant to write that twice, baby girl.
I love you. Word is bond.
Dad
“Whatever you say, with every fiber in my body, I swear to God I’ll do it,” I said over my tears. I was crying so hard that my head ached. Because of my father, I was now a compliant client for Mrs. Hines.
* * *
“Aww, the little girlie pooh been crying? Found out shit ain’t sweet and you’re going to have to get comfortable making new friends up in here?” A junior counselor who wasn’t nothing but a few years older than me at most was mocking me.
Biting the inside of my jaw, I marched beside the employee of the group home, wishing I could trip her to the floor real quick and swiftly. Per the advice of Cal and Mrs. Hines, I couldn’t lift a finger or raise my voice to an administrator; and the fight with Brianna was already one more altercation than recommended. I had to play by the rules and stay off their radar. I wasn’t about to be pushed to failure only two minutes after being instructed to stand strong.
I let the junior counselor berate me and attempt to pump my mind up with worries all the way to the kitchen without flinching at her once. Whatever anger management classes I’m supposed to be taking, for her sake, they better hurry up and start. I ain’t trained to be acting church on these chicks.
Ms. Stubbs was the lady who oversaw the kitchen. She greeted us as soon as we walked into the eating area. Unlike the rest of the overseers and cops I’d encountered, she seemed nice. Hell, if she wasn’t, at least she faked it and smiled. My tough-acting ass low-key felt a little better when she did.
“Call me over my walkie-talkie when you’ve completed your interview, Ms. Stubbs. I’d appreciate it,” the junior counselor said, then excused herself.
I sighed, and Ms. Stubbs giggled. “Hold your head up. She won’t be around long. Trust me.”
“Good, because if she is, I swear to God I’ma go to real jail in a few months instead of going home.” I regretted being brutally honest as soon as the last word left my mouth.
“Oh, no! You don’t want to do that. No, no, no.” At that point, her head fell into a small stack of papers attached to a clipboard. After flipping through them, she pulled a sheet out and held up her index finger, requesting my patience while she read it over.
I knew she had to know about me popping off on the officer, but she didn’t mention it. If I did get hired to work in the kitchen, I’d try to mimic her grace. She might’ve not been dressed as classy as Mrs. Hines was, but her aura was much more calming. I found myself crossing my legs, hoping to get the job, which was weird since I wasn’t the type of teen to take to folks.
After seeming only somewhat flabbergasted by my inappropriate comment, she stopped speaking about anything outside of the questions on the interview sheet. She asked me about my work ethic, what I might’ve had allergies to with regard to food I could handle and cook, plus how I would handle confrontation if one of the other girls tried bringing heat my way. I was honest with her, all except the answer about keeping my cool if a chick wanted to get set straight. I thought Ms. Stubbs knew it was bullshit, but she nodded and smiled at my response anyway.
“Well, Porsha, I’ll be happy to ha—” Her sentence was cut short unexpectedly, and our heads turned toward the door.
“Oh shit! Ms. Stubbs! You better come to the kitchen now.” A girl burst into the room we were sitting in, completely hyped and frazzled.
“Um, Maxine, I’m in the middle of an interview. What’s going on?” As frantic as this Maxine person was, Ms. Stubbs didn’t seem fazed or moved.
The Maxine girl must’ve picked up on how cool and nonchalant Ms. Stubs was acting, because the urgency in her voice was now just as cool, calm, and collected as Ms. Stubbs. “Oh.” She shrugged, like what she was about to say meant nothing. “My bad to interrupt you or whatever, but Tiffany just threw a pot of boiling hot water into Alicia’s face.”
Yup, Ms. Stubbs lost it.
She damn near fell o
ut of her seat as she scrambled to get out of the room. I fought to hold my laughter in, while Maxine didn’t care. She kept wiping tears from her cheeks, saying she couldn’t stop crying, at the same time as holding her crotch like she was holding in pee. My group home experience was gonna be one to write about for sure.
“I swear, I don’t know why they put her old hag ass up in here with a bunch of firecrackers.” She spoke out loud, but it was more like she was talking to herself. “She’s gonna end up croaking one of these days.” After having a conversation with herself, Max finally addressed me directly. “Anyway, excuse my ratchet manners. I’m Max. Are you about to work in the kitchen too?”
“Uh-huh, so they told me.” I kept it short and sweet.
She picked up on my standoffish air and chuckled. “Slow down, slugga. We ain’t got a problem unless you really want one. I’m just asking. And real talk, so you’ll know I ain’t trying to pop off with you, I’ma give you your props on tagging Brianna. I wasn’t there to see it, but I didn’t need to be.” Putting her hand up to give me a play, I extended my hand and dapped it up with her on some “we cool, my bad” type shit.
“Thanks. Birds have been chirping like that?” I questioned her about what rumors were spreading about my fight with Brianna.
“Girl, bye! Did you forget where we’re at? You ain’t gonna be able to change ya tampon without these nosy heifers telling the next nasty heifer.”
Just as I thought and wasn’t looking forward to.
“Max, girl! What are you doing? You’re missing all the drama! They can’t detain Tiffany’s crazy ass.” Another girl burst into the kitchen just as amped as Max had come in for Ms. Stubbs.
“For real! I live for the drama up in this muthafucka.” She spun around to run behind the girl. “Oh, Porsha, wanna come?” she asked me as a quick afterthought. “If you’re interviewing here, you’ll be working here. That’s how this place operates, so you might as well get acquainted with who you’ll be slaving beside.”
Pausing for a second, I gave Max the impression that I was thinking about tagging along, but I knew the answer was no before the question was fully formed. These girls could mind each other’s business all day long. Around the clock, if they wanted to. Me, though, I’d be busy working from the pages of my own agenda.
“Naw, I’m straight on that. Given all the bullshit I’ve dealt with over the last twenty-four hours, I’d really enjoy a moment of silence over a turned-up one.”
“Shit, I can respect that. I’ll holla at you when I see you around.” As quickly as Max had darted into the room, she scurried out. I heard her loud mouth laughing when she reached the drama that was unfolding.
I wondered how many days were like this in the kitchen. Working here might’ve been harder than I’d anticipated. I listened to the drama for a few seconds, then crept to the door to see if Ms. Stubbs was coming back. When I saw the coast was clear, I darted behind her desk and snatched up the phone. I couldn’t help myself. I had to talk to my best friend, if only for a second. With my eyes watching the door for an unwanted surprise, I waited for Imani to pick up.
“Hello,” she finally answered.
“What it do, girl? What have I been missing in the hood?”
“P? Porsha? Is that you?” she questioned, sounding shocked to hear my voice but not like she was still upset over us beefing the other day.
“Yup, yup. It’s me. I’m calling you from the kitchen of the group home on the sneak tip. So don’t call this number back,” I warned her.
“Oh, okay. I’ve got you,” she agreed. “So ummm, what up? I really don’t know what else to ask or say.” Imani was honest.
“It’s cool. It ain’t like either of us have been in juvie before.” I cut her some slack. “But to answer your question, shit ain’t straight this way. Not only did my dad’s lawyer say they might make me stay up in here until my birthday, but they might send me to real jail for headbutting a cop.”
She gasped. “Oh my God, P! That’s crazy!”
I sighed, “Yeah, tell me about it.”
There was an awkward silence on the phone between Imani and me. I didn’t want to state the facts, and she probably didn’t want to piss me off by saying the wrong thing. Since I called her to get a moment of freedom from all the monitoring and escorting going on within the GH, I changed the subject.
“Welllllll, what’s been poppin’ on the block? Tell me something I’d like to hear.”
“It’s been kinda slow since y’all—” She paused, knowing she’d put her foot in her mouth and it was too late to backpedal.
“G’on and say it, Imani.”
“My bad, Porsha. I ain’t mean no harm or disrespect.” She was quick at taking a cop.
“No problem. It is what it is.” I cut her apology off. “Since you’re keeping it one hundred today, tell me what Street’s trifling ass has been up to.” I had not spoken to Imani since exchanging a few words with her about Street. I figured she had a mouthful to tell me.
“Girl, girl, girl! Don’t ask questions you really don’t wanna know the answer to.” That meant she was about to drop a bomb on me.
“Look, I’ve dealt with so much shit since the cops raided my house that I’ve lost track of time. Whatever you tell me can’t compare, and trust when I tell you I can handle it,” I said, pushing her to continue.
“You always want it yo’ way, but whatever. Here you go.” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Ain’t nothing new with Street but that he might be burning. I heard Jamika’s germy pussy is hotter than fish grease.”
The room started spinning, my stomach sank, and my lungs started constricting. “What?” I stuttered. “I... can’t breathe.” I was wheezing and grabbing my chest like Fred Sanford in an episode of Sanford and Son. This wasn’t a joke, though. I really thought I was about to pass the fuck out.
“Yeah, girl. And the burnin’ bitch got the nerve to be down at the trap house right now.” Imani threw salt into my wound.
Click.
That was me disconnecting the call. I’d heard enough from the middleman. I needed to have words with the source.
STREET
“Why are you rushing out of bed? It ain’t like the trap got some work to move. Everyone knows Cal is in jail and y’all are dried up over here,” she giggled. “The way your toes were just curling up, do ya’self a favor and lie back down on that pillow so I can earn a few more dollars.”
If I did want to shoot another nut down her throat, she’d cancelled that thought with the other way she used her mouth, which was smart and unattractive as hell. Jamika, although good for news, could never ever get wifed up. Turned off, I pushed her over to the other side of the bed, not wanting her dick breath in my face. I had to admit, she did a much better job pleasing a nigga this time around.
“Yo, ya place ain’t in my business or my money. So watch ya mouth, ma.”
Taking my heater off the waistband of my pants and setting it on the dresser, I then stepped in my pants and drawers just as I’d left them. I knew when I’d gotten in the bed with Jamika that it was gonna be a quick sex session. I always had to think about Porsha when busting a nut. Her tightness, perkiness, and spunk to please a nigga had me open and thinking I should’ve appreciated her a little more. I knew she’d come back to a nigga when she got to be 18, though. The best part about it was that her coochie was gonna be just how I left it. I knew li’l P wasn’t about to get down with another girl.
Smart-mouth-ass li’l P. Yeah, I missed the shit out of her. The way her juicy, thick thighs wrapped around my body when I popped her cherry had me trying to figure out how many days there were until her birthday so I could hit her up the day she walked out. I had not spoken to Porsha since the day she went wild on me for having Jamika in the passenger seat, on the strength of her dad. That’s some knowledge shorty didn’t know.
Jamika brought the focus back on her by smacking her lips. “Well, you think we can go to the mall later?”
I smacked my lips back the same. “Fuck naw! Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I know something you wanna know. That’s why,” she said boldly like she planned on using that same line time and time again.
I had to stop myself from grabbing her ass by the throat. “Oh, so this meat I just shoved up in you wasn’t enough to get ya mouth to tell me what’s up? Just enough for you to swallow nut?” She’d come at me like a rat, so she was getting treated as such.
“Um naw, don’t play ya’self, Street. The dick is good and all but not no different from all the other dudes I let hit. You gotta come with something like you did that hundred. Dread-head I snitched on, he routinely copped me a few pairs of shoes once a month. Maybe you can take his position doing that.”
She was straight giving me a role. A job. Making me her employer. To hell with that thought. And her. “Whatever, here.” Going into my pocket, I tossed her about $500. “You better grab them bills up, make ’em work the best you can, and stay the fuck up off this block until I have a heart and let you stroll back up and down it!” Wasn’t no thotting-ass trick getting ready to put me in a box, corner me up, or make me do what they wanted. I had not conformed to my momma’s rules and wishes and still wasn’t close to giving a fuck.
“Straight like that, Street? Over some gym shoes? Some whack-ass sneakers? Damn, I guess them pockets are bleeding worse than I thought,” she huffed, thinking her mouth was gonna keep running with no repercussions.
Ring, ring, ring.
Ignoring my ringing cell, I moved around the bed with speed, grabbed Jamika up by the jaw, and muscled her onto the bed. “Who in the hell do you think you talkin’ to? Do you need me to yank ya tongue up outta ya mouth? Huh? Speak up, li’l squeak.” I roughed her up, putting her back in her place as the hood rat she kept proving to be.
Shorty Gotta Be Grown Page 20