The Bed You Make: An Urban Hood Drama

by Tamicka Higgins

  “For real?” John asked, devoting all of his attention to Judge. “Is you serious, nigga? Who the fuck told you that and why?”

  Judge shrugged. “This chick,” he said. “I don’t even really know if I know her name or what. She only been workin’ there for like a month, but I remember they introduced her at a crew meeting and shit. She seem nice… Real hood chick with a attitude, but some of them otha niggas I work with was sayin’ that she real cool. She just come across that way when they first met her.”

  “So, nigga,” John said, not liking the way Judge beat about the bush, “what the fuck did she say and shit? How you know she know some shit about Race’s birthday?”

  “Cause, nigga,” Judge said. “When we was at work and shit today, or last night or this mornin’ or whatever you wanna call it, we was on break and everybody was sittin’ in the break room cause you know it was kinda try’na rain last night. Anyway, we was sittin’ there and she was sittin’ at this other table with some redbone chick. They was talkin’ about goin’ shoppin’ this weekend to pick out the perfect outfit to go to this nigga name Race’s birthday party that his buddy Drew or somethin’ like that is supposed to be throwin’ for him. I couldn’t hear everything they said, but I remember they said it was this Saturday night and that they’d heard that the nigga was supposed to have some strippers there. You know how chicks are. They get to talkin’ about how they wanna look the best and all that shit cause they always try’na impress niggas that they don’t even like.”

  “Interestin’,” John said, blowing smoke out of his nostrils after taking a deep hit. “Ain’t that somethin’?”

  “Yeah, nigga,” Judge said. “That’s the same shit I was thinkin’. I was hopin’ that I could get to hear them talkin’ about it more, but I know for a fact that chick was talkin’ about that nigga Race. Next thing, when we was walkin’ out the break room and shit, they was talkin’ about how good he look and all that shit.”

  John nodded his head, already calculating some things in his head. Camron noticed and smiled. “Nigga, I already know what you thinkin’,” Camron said and smiled.

  “What?” John asked, his eyes now getting a little red. “What the fuck you think I’m thinkin’?”

  “You thinkin’ about that nigga’s birthday party and how you could run up in there and get him,” Camron said. “Don’t sleep on me, nigga. I know you and I know what the fuck you be thinkin’. How fuckin’ long have we even known one another, nigga? Don’t think I don’t fuckin’ know what the fuck you thinkin’.”

  Judge looked at his boys just as a light breeze blew through the park. The trees rustled. Birds chirped and rushed into the sky in a big wave of wings. “Y’all think we could do some shit like that?” he asked. The tone in his voice let both of his boys know that he wasn’t the most confident in the idea. “I mean, really?”

  John shrugged as he thought about it. He’d never been the violent kind of guy, but there were always rules to the exception. Since he’d started making money out in the streets at age sixteen, he’d made it his biggest goal to virtually stay out of sight. He believed the number one way that dudes got caught up was by doing things that grabbed too much attention. The idea of running up in Race’s birthday party was indeed appealing, especially since John knew that Race would probably never be expecting it. On top of that, it was something bold and unlike anything he’d ever done. On the flipside, the idea was even more alluring because it’d be a good way to humiliate Race in front of everyone, no matter who was at his birthday party.

  “I don’t know,” John said. “I mean, shit, I really don’t give a fuck how I get that nigga. I’mma just make sure that he fuckin’ know how I felt and stuff from that bullshit that went down the other night. Y’all know I don’t usually do shit like that. I like to keep a low profile and keep to myself to keep the niggas and the drama away.”

  “I feel you on that,” Camron said, nodding his head. “But, shit, I’d be down to do some shit like that. Y’all niggas know that I ain’t scared of no niggas, I don’t care how many of them there is and shit. That nigga was shootin’ at us and shit that night, so fuck how he feel and shit.”

  “I knew you’d be down for some shit like that,” Judge said. “That fuckin’ sound like some shit that you would do.”

  “Hell yeah,” Camron said and smiled. “The three of us could talk that shit out then run up in there and take control of the shit and make sure we embarrass the fuck outta that nigga and…”

  Camron kept on talking but John didn’t really hear him; he got lost in thought as he pondered the idea. Never had he been one to consider violent tactics to get his way, outside of laying a dude out on the ground with his fists; however, something inside of him had changed. There was no doubt in his mind that between the three of them, they could really pull something off that would be so humiliating for Race that he’d never want to show his face in Cincy again as long as he lived.

  “Y’all know what, niggas?” John asked, cutting Camron off. “I think we could do some shit like that. Why the fuck not?”

  CHAPTER 6

  One of the things John had always wanted but never talked much about was to be one of those fathers that walked around with his son, holding his hand. Well, today had been the day for that to happen. Sparkle had gotten a call about a job in Cincinnati, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world, so she had to rush out to go on a job interview. At first, John had been a little annoyed. He wasn’t necessarily bothered about having to spend the day with his son, but he was bothered about it happening on such short notice. Still, he made the best of it and went ahead and cleared his schedule.

  Seeing how excited his son was to hang out with his father only motivated John even more. Once he’d gotten the little boy ready and out the door, he headed to McDonalds to get something to eat. “We always eat at McDonalds,” Isaac complained from the backseat.

  John groaned quietly and shook his head. He remembered all too well how reluctant Sparkle had been to cook anything when they were together and he’d spend the night at her place up in Dayton. “Okay,” he said. “You know what? You want to grill out on the balcony at the apartment?”

  “Yeah, Daddy!” Isaac said, throwing his arms into the air. “I just got one thing I have to ask for.”

  “What?” John asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

  “Can you burn a hotdog for me?” Isaac asked.

  “Oh no!” John yelled, purposely raising his voice in a humorous way. “Please don’t tell me that you one of them people that like burnt hotdogs.”

  “Yeah, they’re the best,” Isaac said.

  Knowing that the next intersection coming up would be the last for a while on this particular road, John went ahead and made a U-turn so he could head back toward the Kroger they’d passed several minutes ago. As he chatted back and forth with his son, finding out more and more about what went on in Dayton than Sparkle ever, ever let on, he couldn’t help but think about the situation with Race. With each passing day, not only did Race’s birthday party get closer, but John’s rage built up in his blood. Before he, Camron, and Judge had left the park, they’d all agreed that Judge needed to spend the next few days, up until the weekend, getting to know the chick at work. John wanted to make sure they knew every possible detail about this party. Since Camron was the Facebook King of them, he’d decided that he’d do some snooping online. There was no doubt in either of their minds that some of the hood people would get to talking too much about this party and spill every morsel of information in the post for the entire world to see.

  John pulled into the Kroger parking lot and walked inside. While shopping, he found so many similarities between Isaac and his mother. Just like Sparkle, Isaac was so indecisive when it came to what he wanted that John would have to choose for him for the sake of time. After about twenty minutes inside of the Kroger, the father and son were headed out of the store.

  Just as John had gotten to his car and was helping his son into
the car, a very familiar car pulled into a nearby parking spot. Almost like getting hit by lightning, John watched as Imani climbed out of the car. Immediately, John’s eyes bulged. It was very clear that Imani had gotten her ass beat something horrible. John tried his hardest to keep a straight face, but it was so difficult. He moved faster, wanting to pull off without having to have the awkward conversation with Imani.

  “John?” Imani asked. She rushed around the back of her car and across the parking row. “John! Hold up!”

  John groaned as he realized he couldn’t just pull off without saying something. There was just too much going on for him to ignore her and act as if she wasn’t there. “Yeah, wassup, Imani?” he said. He then leaned his head inside of his car and told Isaac to sit tight.

  Imani walked up, walking as if she were ready to fight. “I know you saw that I texted you,” she said. “We was textin’ for a minute then you stopped.”

  “What the fuck you want me to say, Imani?” John asked. “Huh? I mean, really. What the fuck you want me to do? It ain’t my fault that nigga had you get your ass beat.”

  “Shut the fuck up, nigga!” Imani snapped. “Shut up! This shit ain’t funny. That nigga’s sister Maya and her bitch-ass, ugly ass friend didn’t have to show up at my fuckin’ sister’s house and beat the shit out of me in front of my niece and nephew like that.”

  “Okay,” John said. “So, what you sayin’? What you want me to do?”

  Imani glanced into John’s car, trying to make sure that certain ears weren’t listening. Once she looked into the eyes of a child, she felt better. She looked back at John and said, “I know you thinkin’ about how to get that nigga Race back,” she said. “I already know you are. I know you think I don’t know you like that, nigga, but I do. I do, I do, I do. I know you already plannin’ to get that nigga back.”

  John paused for a moment, trying to think of Imani’s angle. “Wait a second,” he said. “Let me make sure my son straight then I can talk to you.”

  Imani watched as John started his car and turned on the radio to distract his son. He stepped back to the rear of the car and leaned on the trunk. “So, what was you sayin’?” he asked.

  “You know what I’m sayin’,” Imani said. “I asked you if you was plannin’ to get that nigga Race back for the shit he did. And don’t even try to act tough. Just cause you got a big dick don’t mean that you wasn’t all kinds of fucked up havin’ to walk home and shit without havin’ no clothes on.”

  “Yeah,” John said. “I might be. Why? Why you wanna know? You wanna get in on it because he sent his sister to beat that ass?”

  Imani put her hand on her hip and squinted. “Nigga, you ain’t gotta say it like that,” she said. “And maybe. Depend what the fuck you was try’na do.”

  “Naw,” John said, shaking his head. “I can’t trust you. Bitch, you the one who got me caught up in that shit to start with. You know I fuckin’ asked you before I went up in there to give you some of this dick if that nigga lived there and you said naw.”

  “Okay, okay,” Imani said. “Shit, nigga, okay. I told you he didn’t. He do live there. At first he didn’t, but now he do and shit. Shit, as far as I know, he still stayin’ over there. I went over there just the other night and he had some white bitch down on her knees suckin’ his dick and bein’ all disrespectful and shit. Fuck that nigga! Fuck him! Tell me what the fuck you thinkin’ about doin’ and shit and I can tell you whatever you wanna know. Swear to God. Yeah, I stepped out on him and shit, but shit, that nigga prolly been fuckin’ all kinda bitches behind my back. At first, I was just lettin’ it slide and shit because he was takin’ me shoppin’ and shit. But, shit, fuck all that! Fuck that! That nigga ain’t have to send his fuckin’ ugly ass sister to jump on me like that, in front of my niece and nephew, in broad daylight. Tell me what you need to know and I will fuckin’ tell you whatever the fuck you wanna know. I don’t care. Shit, nigga, I can tell you where his mama live.”

  John looked away then back at Imani. She was dressed in tight white pants and a black t-shirt, clearly looking as if she weren’t trying to look her best today. Her face, after all, would have negated whatever efforts she made to make herself pretty.

  “Okay, I might have some shit in the works,” John said, “but we waitin’ to get some more info on some things. How I know you ain’t try’na do some sneaky-ass shit and go back to be with that nigga and cause more problems for me and shit? I mean, as far as I know, you can’t be trusted. Where your car parked at? Huh? Where your car parked at? I need to see if that nigga Race is sittin’ in the back and shit, waitin’ to find out from you what the fuck I might have up my sleeve.”

  “Nigga, stop all that shit,” Imani said. “Look at my face.” She pointed at her face and stomped her foot against the parking lot concrete. “Do I fuckin’ look like I’m on that shit right now? Huh? Do I fuckin’ look like I’m on that shit. That nigga had my ass beat so bad that I had to go to the hospital. Fuck him! I swear to God, I want you to get him not only for what he did to you, cause that shit was just wrong, havin’ you go out at night without no clothes on and shit, but also for the shit he did to me. Fuck that nigga! Go kill that nigga for all I care. It ain’t like I got no kids with him or no shit like that. And the kid he do got, I don’t even like the mama.”

  “What you know about his birthday?” John asked, cautiously. “If you really serious and shit, tell me what the fuck you know about that nigga’s birthday? Is there supposed to be some kind of party goin’ on?”

  Imani looked at John, picking up on the fact that he’d obviously done some research. “Well, I know his birthday is this Saturday,” she said. “And I know that his nigga Drew was supposed to be throwin’ him some kinda party, but last time he was talkin’ to me about it, as far as I knew, they hadn’t decided a place. Probably some club down in the hood.”

  John nodded. “Mmhmm,” he said. “You know what this nigga Drew look like or what?”

  Imani shrugged her shoulders then rubbed her arms. “I mean,” she said, “yeah, I know what he look like. He tall and kinda skinny. He’s known for his looks, but he ain’t really my type or nothin’ like that. I know he used to stay off of Liberty, over by Vine, with this one chick, but I only went over there like a couple times with Race. And it was late at night and shit, so it was dark so I can’t really tell you much about him.” Imani paused, pulling her phone out of her pocket and logging into her Facebook account. “You know what? I’m friends with that nigga on Facebook, I think. Let me see.”

  John waited, still a little suspicious of Imani and her true intentions. “Mmhmm,” he said. “I mean, it ain’t that big a deal. All I know is I’m plannin’ on makin’ sure that nigga have a real happy birthday. He ain’t even gon’ see it comin’.”

  “What you already know?” Imani asked, stepping closer. “Huh? What the fuck you know about his birthday, John? Where is it bein’ held at and shit? If you know, you better tell me so I can show up and embarrass the fuck outta that nigga in front of all his friends and whoever the fuck else is standin’ there. He think he just gon’ talk to me while some white hoe is on her knees, suckin’ his dick, he got another thing comin’. He lucky my one cousin is locked up or that nigga might would be lyin’ over in that apartment, dyin’ the carpet red.”

  “Naw, naw,” John said, snickering and shaking his head. “Trust me, Imani. You don’t wanna be at wherever on Saturday night when me and my boys get there.” He looked at Imani’s face and became very serious. “For real, for real, Imani. You do not wanna be wherever on Saturday night. It ain’t gon’ be a pretty sight. I’m tellin’ you now. Don’t even do that shit.”

  Imani nodded, thinking that maybe John was going to take Race’s life. While she certainly hated his guts now, the last thing she needed was a murder conspiracy charge. “You not gon’ kill him, are you, John?”

  John shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, we’ll see how I feel,” he said. “I just might show him some mercy. But I do kno
w one thing, though.” He chuckled—a sinister chuckle that was full of malice. “That nigga gon’ feel what it was like to be me that night, walkin’ down the street naked. The only difference is that we gon’ make damn sure that every hood, from coast to coast, in New York and Philly and the ATL and Dallas and Chicago and L.A. and wherever the fuck else see that shit… And that they gon’ be able to watch it over and over and over again for years to come.”

  CHAPTER 7

  John found himself breaking speed limits as he rushed over to his mother Charla’s house. Every year, his mother would have a memorial sort of family get-together so they could all remember the various older people in the family who had died in sort of a back-to-back way over the last several years. Because of everything that had been going on with Imani, Race, and even with Sparkle bringing Isaac to come and live with her, the function had almost slipped his mind. The fact of the matter was that John had been chilling at home when his mother called him, saying, “Boy, I thought you were going to show up earlier so we could get all these drinks together. You know I can’t carry all this stuff like I used to.”

  John quickly hopped into some clothes, told Sparkle what the deal was, and hopped in his car. After stopping at Kroger to get some cans of pop, he headed over to his mother’s house. His hope was that, as usual, nobody in his family would actually show up to the event on time. As luck would have it, and not in his favor, several people had already shown up. When he pulled into a parking spot in front of his mother’s house, he could already see the cars of several of his aunts and uncles as well as some of his cousin.

  John pulled the pop out of the trunk and headed up toward the door. Just as he was about to step up onto his mother’s porch, he noticed a bright red SUV parked further down the block. He snickered and shook his head, not only because the SUV looked obnoxious in so many ways, but also because he knew the truck belonged to his cousin Ray. “That nigga silly,” John said, as he was opening the door.