Around the Way Girls

by Chunichi

  I also dealt with this sixty-year-old “pisa” dude who owned a store on the East Side, on Pacific Coast Highway that had cute name-brand clothes. Whenever I went to him, he would give me a five-dollar disposable camera. I would go home and take nude pictures of myself and give the camera back to him, and he would get them developed. For every camera I brought him, he would give me a whole outfit.

  And as far as tennis shoes, the security guard at the Shoe Warehouse on Long Beach Boulevard wanted to fuck me, so I used to blow his dick when he got off work in the parking lot, and he’d steal a pair of the latest tennis shoes in my size. And that’s how the fuck I survived.

  But the shit was starting to get old. How many ways could I hold my titties and snap it? Or crouch, so my pussy showed? Or pose with my tongue out?

  But his old ass never got tired of receiving pictures. He would get me Ed Hardy, True Religion, Ecko, and Baby Phat. The kids at school thought my family was straight balling. Shit, if they only knew. I’d been sleeping on the same box spring since I was five, and hardly ever had tissue to wipe my ass, or soap to wash it. And the house was roach-and crackhead infested.

  Yes, we had food, only because Rhonda was addicted to food as much as she was to crack. There was hardly anything balling about my household. My dad was a loser lush, and his woman was a fucking crack whore. And that EBT card never went on me.

  I never invited them to come to open house. The day they ever stepped foot on my campus was the day they’d have found me floating in a river because I jumped in that bitch.

  The thought of going to Murder’s house excited me. I had never met him before, but Danada told me he was serious out here in these streets. He lived in the Poly Apartments and ran them muthafuckas. He had the whole management company shook. I lived on Mahanna Street by all the longos.

  As we walked to the bus stop, I said, “Speaking of niggas, you know I hope Li’l Murder is there.”

  “Supposedly, he got a girl who pregnant, but I don’t care,” Danada said. “He can get it.”

  Crazy part was, Danada was a year younger than me, and I was fifteen.

  I laughed. “How many niggas you fucked?”

  She plopped down on the bench at the bus stop. She laughed. “Too many to fuckin’ count, girl. What about you? I know you got a long list too.”

  I sat down next to her and laughed. “No comment.”

  “I’m sure, ho. Who was your first?”

  The last thing I wanted to think about was how I lost my virginity. Because it wasn’t anything my young ass imagined. Instead of it being in the back of some nigga’s car, or in a bedroom of a hood party, after smoking some sticky-icky and having some drink, it was at home in my bedroom, while I was trying to get some sleep. And it wasn’t by some cutie from my neighborhood that I had a crush on.

  It was damn near three in the morning, and I was trying to get some sleep, which was pretty fucking hard, ’cause my daddy and his girlfriend was having a fucking get-high party in the living room. Or so I thought. I had just managed to doze off when, suddenly, I felt someone sit on my bed. I couldn’t make out their face in the dark, but when a flame came from a lighter, I saw it was a friend of my daddy’s, Otis.

  I sat up in the bed. He’d volunteered to be my God-daddy but never did shit for me. What the fuck was his fat ass doing in my room? I gasped when I saw him take a long drag from a crack pipe.

  “What the fuck you doin’ in here?” I looked at his fat, greasy, black ass with disgust. I was only twelve, but I knew how to curse like any adult, ’cause I was always cursed at.

  “I came to see how my favorite girl is doing. You want some?”

  “Hell no! Get the fuck out!”

  “Now, is that anyway to speak to your Goddaddy, Diamond?”

  “Yeah—when his dope fiend ass is offering me some crack, and when his fat ass won’t get off my bed.”

  He laughed and lifted the covers, exposing my legs. His dirty-ass hands crawled up my thigh.

  “Stop!” I screamed for my daddy.

  But all that made him do was slam me down on the bed, and that pipe he had in his mouth was now in mine. He was scaring the fuck out of my twelve-year-old ass.

  “Take a toke, baby. It’s okay. God-daddy said so.”

  I shook my head and tried to pull it out of my mouth, but he held my hands down with one hand and pinched my nose with the other.

  I held on as long as I could. I didn’t want that shit, and I didn’t want to become no crack ho either.

  He laughed as I held my breath. “You so stubborn, baby. Stubborn and fine. Ummmmm.”

  I shook my head and tried to knock his hand away from my nose by pressing my head into my pillow, which made me more desperates for air, until I had no choice but to inhale that shit.

  “That’s a good girl, baby.

  I froze at the impact of that shit. The feeling was good as hell and paralyzed my whole body and made my mouth completely numb.

  Next thing I know, he pushed up my tee shirt and was flicking his tongue all over my body, and ended up licking my pussy.

  I called for my daddy to come in the room over and over again despite feeling high out of my mind, but he never came.

  Otis had me on my knees and was shoving his dick in my booty. I started screaming my daddy’s name at the top of my lungs.

  That made Otis stab me harder.

  I screamed and bawled at what he was doing to me. I begged him to stop. “Otis, please.”

  He bucked against me. “That’s it, baby. Call my name. Say it again.”

  I sobbed and tried to pull away, but he had secured my thighs in his hands.

  “Oh, baby, I’m coming. Get ready.”

  Then I felt all this fluid fill up my bootyhole and gush down my booty and thighs. Then he left my room.

  I got up and went to the door, prepared to tell my daddy. I rushed in the living room. The house was crowded with people, dirty-looking and half-dead-looking women and half-dead, dirty-looking men. They were all hitting pipes. In the whole group of people, my daddy was nowhere to be seen.

  I walked past them toward the kitchen. I felt a hand on my arm and snatched my arms away from this crackhead. His eyes were so red and wide, I thought they were gonna fall out of his head.

  He shrugged at me and shoved a pipe in his mouth before walking away.

  When I made it to the kitchen, I still didn’t see my daddy. But I did see my bitch-ass God-daddy. He strolled up to Rhonda, whose eyes looked red and wide, just like the man who had grabbed my arm.

  Before I could call her name and tell her what that fat fucker did to me, I saw him reach in his pockets, pull out a five-dollar bill, and hand it to her.

  “Muthafucka, I said ten if you wanted to fuck her!”

  A few months later, one day I was coming home from school, and there he was sitting right in the living room with Rhonda, who had a smirk on her face when she saw the horrified look on mine.

  I tried to brush past her.

  “Now, Diamond, where are your manners, honey? Ain’t you gonna give your God-daddy a hug and a kiss?”

  He smiled at me and patted one of his fat thighs. “Yeah, baby. Give your God-daddy a kiss.”

  He looked even worse in the daylight in the soiled-up blue jeans that hung off his fat ass. They looked so old and stained, he probably didn’t bother to wash them ’cause the stains probably wouldn’t come out. His white top was just as dingy and wrinkled and had a tear in the neck area. Not to mention, there was dirt in his fingernails, and a foul odor was coming from his ass—a mixture of shit, sweat, and musk.

  I tried to walk away.

  “Diamond! What the fuck is wrong with you? Get your ass over there and kiss him!”

  Just being in the same room with him was giving me the flashbacks from that night he brutally raped me.

  I leaned over and attempted to kiss his cheek, all the while feeling my stomach knot up, and a nauseous feeling sweep over me. As soon as my lips got close to his cheek,
he turned his face quickly so his lips were on mine. Then he slipped his tongue inside.

  I gagged and tried to pull away, but a hand stayed on my rump to hold me there. His mouth tasted like a combination of liquor, nicotine, and spoiled food.

  When he got the kiss he was after, he loosened his hold on me and patted my rump. “Go do your homework, baby. And be a good girl for God-daddy.”

  I could hear Rhonda chuckling as I rushed to my room.

  “Diamond, did you hear me?”

  “No. What?”

  Danada applied gloss to her lips until they were shiny. She then handed it to me to use.

  “I said you should try to get put on Eastside Crips too. Girl, the shit is fun. We get to hang at all the parties, get free weed and drank. And don’t nobody fuck with me either.”

  “I’m not trying to get jumped by nobody.”

  She laughed at me and slapped one of her thighs. “I didn’t get jumped to get put on, girl.”

  “Well, what did you have to do?”

  She laughed. And before she could reply, the blue 46 bus came.

  We hopped on the bus, paid our fare, and mobbed straight to the back

  “Damn! Hi, hater,” Danada said to no one in particular.

  I laughed because bitches were staring nonstop.

  “Okay,” I said, mean-mugging anyone who made eye contact with me.

  We sat in the back row; that way we could see everybody getting on the bus.

  As the bus started to roll, I looked out the window, trapped in my own thoughts. I could hear the lady singing in my head again, her soft voice singing, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star.”

  I started humming it.

  “Girl, I know you is not humming ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.’”

  I put my head down, embarrassed.

  “Hum this, Diamond—I wish I could fuck every nigga in the world.” Danada was singing the song by Drake and Lil Wayne, changing the word girl to nigga.

  I laughed and started singing it with her as the bus made its rounds through the neighborhood.

  When the bus made a stop for more people to get on, Danada nudged my elbow. “Girl, look at this bald-headed bitch.”

  My eyes flashed to the front of the bus, to a black girl coming in our direction. She was dark-skinned and ashy as hell. “What the fuck is she wearing, D?”

  I had to admit the girl wasn’t the best dressed. She had on some jeans that had probably seen better years. They were black but so faded, they looked gray. The knees were worn out and the bottoms flared. Those were out. All we wore in high school was skinny jeans. And she had some tennis shoes called Air. And her black top had a bleach stain on it. Her hair was in a ponytail, but it was so short, the sides and the back had escaped the ponytail and crowned her face in nappy patches. Her baby hair was also full of naps, but still the girl was prettier than me and Danada.

  When she saw us, she flashed a smile, revealing white teeth, and sat across from us.

  Danada smirked at her. I smirked too.

  “Black and nappy,” Danada chanted. “Black and nappy.”

  I burst into laughter and eyed the girl, who looked in our direction and quickly put her head down.

  “Ain’t no way in hell I would walk out the house if I looked like her ugly ass,” Danada said loudly.

  My laughter got louder, and people in the front of the bus turned around and looked at us.

  The girl kept her head down, but from her profile, I could see tears dropping from her eyes. It made me feel a little bad. I was hoping Danada would stop.

  “Some people need to learn how to wash they stank pussy. Three words: Water and soap.”

  I laughed again.

  Danada continued to chant, “Black and nappy. Bitch, you must be unhappy.” Then she laughed to herself. “Awww shit! I just rhymed without even trying. I got some serious skills.”

  Me and her banged fists.

  The girl turned her body in a different direction, but I could see her shoulders shaking.

  “That bitch look like a black version of the Loch Ness Monster. I bet she got the same panties on that she wore yesterday.”

  “Probably do.”

  She endured five more minutes before she pulled the chime telling the bus driver to stop at the next available bus stop. As soon as the bus stopped, she stood and walked to the back exit. She stood in front of the double doors, and just as soon as they opened, I heard her mumble, “Ignorant.”

  Danada heard it too, and in a flash, she snatched me by my arm, and we rushed off the bus after the girl.

  “Come on, D.”

  I chased after Danada as she followed after the girl, who was rushing down the street.

  Danada stopped her, yelling, “Aye!”

  The girl turned around and faced us.

  “Now, what the fuck was you saying on the bus, bitch? ’Cause this Eastside Crip.”

  “You can call me out my name, but when I call you out your name you get in my face?” she said, her voice shaky.

  “Yeah, bitch!” Danada got further in her face.

  “But that doesn’t make sense. It’s not right.” Her voice stayed calm.

  “Yes, it is, bitch!”

  The girl’s eyes widened. She looked from me to Danada and swallowed hard. “Well, it’s over. Why don’t—”

  “Why don’t I what, bitch?”

  The girl put her hand up in peace. “Why don’t you leave the issue alone?”

  “Oh, so now you telling me what the fuck to do?”

  “No, I—”

  Before the girl could finish her sentence, Danada hit her square in her mouth. I watched her eyes instantly tear up, but she didn’t fight back.

  “Come on, D. Help me fuck this ugly bitch up.”

  The girl’s eyes pleaded with me to stop this, but I didn’t. I grabbed her by the back of her short ponytail and slammed her on the ground.

  Danada busted up laughing.

  I then dropped to my knees and pummeled the girl in the face, while Danada kicked her in the chest and stomach.

  The girl screamed.

  “Bitch, shut the fuck up! This Eastside.” Danada shoved me out the way and punched the girl again in her face.

  That’s when I heard something pop, and blood flew from the girl’s nose.

  “Come on, D.”

  Me and Danada stomped the girl in her head over and over again, which kept slapping the concrete beneath her.

  “Move, D!”

  I slipped out of the way and watched Danada give the girl a series of blows until her whole face was knotted up, and her lips were as bloody as her nose.

  “This Crip, bitch!” Then she slammed her head on the concrete.

  The girl was cold knocked out.

  I stared at her as long my guilt allowed me to. Then Danada yanked me by my arm, and we were running the other way.

  Chapter 4

  We didn’t stop running until we were two blocks past the girl we had beat up. Once we got to a red light, Danada fell on me and busted up laughing.

  “Damn!” she said. “We fucked that bitch up!”

  I laughed alongside her.

  “Do you think she gonna call the police on us?”

  “Who gives a fuck!” I said, even though I had never been arrested before, and the thought of going to jail did scare me.

  We continued to walk until we made it to the Poly Apartments.

  When we got to Murder’s door, I could smell the bomb-ass weed and hear them bumping Snoop Dogg. And I was in heaven. Once we got inside, we saw that there weren’t a lot of people in there. There were three guys in the room.

  What caught my attention was how fly his crib was, with leather couches, a glass table resting on top of a black cougar, and matching rug on the floor. I saw pictures on the wall of Murder holding guns, and one with him in a suit. Then, of course, he had to have big pictures of pretty, naked bitches. His flat-screen TV was so huge, it took the whole side of the wall, and you know he had to
have a big-ass stereo with big speakers to bump that gangsta rap.

  “Girl, come on,” Danada said.

  I walked in the room and stood next to Danada, who did the introductions, standing there like she was a boss bitch.

  “Hey, y’all,” I said to everybody.

  I glanced at the dudes. Brown skin, with a goatee, and a teardrop under his right eye, Murder had to be six foot four. His hair was braided back in cornrows. He was so muscular, like two of me put together. He was the one rolling up the weed.

  Danada said, “Diamond, this the Big Homie. Murder.”

  When I held my hand out to shake his hand, he looked at me like I was crazy and blew smoke in my face. I blinked and took a step back.

  The dude to his right looked exactly like Murder. He had to be Li’l Murder, his son. And, yes, he was fine as fuck. He was a younger version of Murder, with the same braids and teardrop. The other dude was named Gutter. He was fine too, light skin with green eyes, bald-headed, and had a muscular body too. They all had on wifebeaters and Chucks, different from the guys I went to school with, and they all wore skinny jeans. To me, skinny jeans should be for bitches only. These niggas were more my “steelo.”

  That was Gutter who greeted us, “’S up, ladies.”

  Suddenly a lady walked into the living room, an older dark-skinned woman with long hair in a ponytail. She wore some booty shorts that had her huge ass hanging out of them, and a tank top with no shoes on.

  “Murder,” she said, eyeballing me and Danada.

  Murder yelled, “Bitch, go back in the room!”

  She quickly left the room.

  My eyes got wide. I whispered to Danada, “Who is that?”

  “Trina. Murder woman.” Danada plopped down next to Li’l Murder.

  “Oh.” I sat down next to the dad, even though

  I wanted to sit by Gutter. Damn! He’s fucking fine!

  The next thing I know, they were passing weed around to us like it was free, and I was getting straight faded. And that shit felt good. I went from being shy and quiet in that room with them niggas to bouncing my booty on the floor to the song, “Gin and Juice.”