Dope Girl 3

by Sa'id Salaam

  “Bout to take this bitch money, work and kick her right in her ass,” Munch declared as he made long angry strides towards her.

  “Wait for it, wait…for…it.” Meisha giggled watching them approach. When they had gotten too close for comfort, out came the glock. Their eyes grew as big as the crackhead’s when they saw the burner. They turned to run but it was too late, they were too close.

  Luckily for them and their next of kin, Cameisha wasn’t a cold blooded killer like her uncle. She only took aim at Munch and shot him in both ass cheeks. She emptied the rest of the clip into the air to run off the intruders. She quickly replaced the empty clip with a full one but it wasn’t needed. The threat was gone along with the dealers. Only Munch was left rolling around screaming like a bitch.

  “Good looking out ma,” a handsome little boy said gratefully as Meisha walked back to her building.“ Them niggas wouldn’t let us eat yo.”

  Lil’ Self as he was called earned his nickname. The ‘lil’ part was because at 14, he stood 4’ 11”. The self part was because his crackhead parents didn’t do shit for him so he did for self.

  “Well you can eat now,” Cameisha responded and handed over the rest of her rocks. There were twenty left but Self had the whole projects to himself and was going to cut them in half and double up.

  “Thanks!” Self exclaimed gratefully. The bright child with the bleak future had rarely been given anything. She had just earned his loyalty and respect for life. This was the Bronx and honor was big around here.

  “No problem, just holla at me when you done,” she said and walked in the building. It was a test to see what the kid was made of. If he ran off with the money it wouldn’t surprise her but if he didn’t he would have earned her respect and loyalty.

  “What’s going on out there?” Grandma asked when Meisha rushed back inside the apartment.

  “Somebody got shot in the ass,” Meisha giggled telling on herself.

  “You’re definitely part of the family,” Deidra said shaking her head. Seeing her beloved grandchild was safe she retreated back to her room.

  Cameisha joined the rest of the projects looking out of the window. She watched as paramedics loaded Munch onto a stretcher and carted him off. To her surprise there was Self and another youth still hustling while police and paramedics milled about. Once the coast was clear, she went back down to check on the boy.

  “Done,” Self said proudly when Cameisha appeared. His little friend looked her up and down while seductively licking his lips like LL Cool J.

  “Boy stop,” Meisha laughed and turned to Self, “How much you made yo?”

  “Yo dem shits was mad big. I cut dem in half and made eight 'hunned,” he said holding up a large roll of cash.

  “Fifty-fifty,” Meisha announced causing him to look his age with a huge boyish grin. When he was lucky enough to get work he was only paid 25% and with all the competition out, he was lucky to clear a hundred dollars.

  When she handed him half, he handed half to his friend who accepted it with a wide grin. He gave Cameisha another once over batting his eyes at her.

  “Yo you ain’t got no man?” he asked with a little extra base in his voice.

  “No.”Meisha giggled playing along.“What’s yo name?”

  “They call me Bad Ass,” he said proudly. It was a name he earned every letter of. The fourteen year old had just got out of juvie for all kinds of shit.

  “A’ight bad ass, holla at me when you turn 21,” she said shutting him down.“Yo Self, here go another bomb, whistle when you’re done.”

  “This ain’t the same is it?” Self asked with a curious frown as he accepted the dope.

  “Nah, it’s some other shit. Let me know how they like it,” Meisha replied. She went back upstairs to social network the old fashion way, she got on the phone.

  Chapter 7

  “This a ounce?”Trigga questioned even though he could tell it was short. Not only was it short, it was cut to smithereens.

  “Yeah shawty it’s um…yeah,” his brother Keith stuttered. The lie got caught on his tongue on its way out of his mouth. That was unusual for the habitual liar. “Just gimme five 'fo it since I fucks 'wit ya, feel me?”

  “Yeah, I feel you,” Trigga quipped hoping to at least double his dough so he could flip it again.

  Trigga could only shake his head when he put water in the coke and the cut dissolved. Knowing the trap stars only sold whipped up crack, he decided to cook his up properly. A hit of that butter would knock the junkies socks off and make loyal customers.

  The poverty ravaged neighborhood had a market for five dollar hits of crack so that’s what Trigga cut. Wearing the same cheap outfit the prison furnished upon release, Trigga hit the trap.

  “Trigga, my nigga!” Ham bone cheered when he reached the part of the complex where the trappers trapped. He and the rest of the local dope boys greeted their long lost friend warmly. Hands were slapped, backs patted and blunts passed.

  In a rare act of altruism in the hood, the dope boys let Trigga have all the sales for an hour. That was a mistake because once the junkies got a hold of that gas they were hooked.

  “Say shawty, you need ta hit da club wit us tonight.” Man-man advised animatedly.

  “Fo real tho, I know a nigga tired of beating that dick! Better come on and get you some pussy.” Ricky co-signed.

  “In time shawty, a nigga gotta get straight first.” Trigga begged off. Yes, he did want to hit the club, hit some pussy but first things first.

  “Nigga we got you. Matter fact, here,” Man-man said extending a wad of cash.

  “That’s right.” Troy co-signed and did the same. Next Ham Bone and all the rest, except for Keith, had their hands out filled with handouts. Only problem was that the proud goon had never taken handouts before and saw no reason to start today.

  “I’m cool shawty. I’m finna grind for mine,” Trigga announced causing the contributions to magically disappear.

  “You sure?” Keith asked digging in his pockets since he knew his money was safe. Trigga just ignored the fake gesture.

  That first ounce of coke generated twelve hundred bucks. Five went to pay Keith for fronting it to him and five more paid for the next one up front. The two hundred was put to the side. It was the start of a stack that would grow until death or jail. Whichever came first because both were inevitable.

  When Trigga returned to the trap he had it all to himself. His counterparts had all set out to trick off the money they risked their lives and freedom for. Some hit the strip club to stuff their money in the garter belts hoping to fuck. Same principle as a slot machine actually. Keep throwing money in and you might, might hit the jack pot. Others were going to the regular club to do basically the same. Keep buying drinks hoping to fuck.

  He watched with mixed emotions as his friends left the complex. Keith was a ghetto super star in his custom donk and flunkies trailing behind. Sharika and her crew of hood rats all sported big ass hair dos and had to bend their necks in the car not to hit it on the roof. Whoever hit the vagina lottery was gonna have to hit it from the back so not to mess up their hair.

  Junkies came and went adding to Trigga’s get rich foundation. After being gone for four years, he was surprised to see who was now smoking. Half of the trappers who just left mothers came to cop. Reverand Johnson came through in a sweat suit and church shoes to buy crack. He long ago smoked up the congregation’s money and lost his flock. Trigga was near the end of his bomb when Shawn came along.

  “Hey lil Trigga, heard you was home,” Shawn said and either smiled or wanted to show him her missing tooth.

  It took a few for Trigga’s mind to process who she was. She was once the baddest bitch on the Westside. A dope boy’s girlfriend until he got killed in a deal gone bad. Shawn smoked up his stash to ease the pain and obviously she’s still in pain because five years later, she’s still smoking.

  “Damn Shawn!” his mouth blurted before he could stop it. There was almost nothi
ng left of the onetime knock out.

  “I ain’t got no money but I’ll give you some head for a couple sacks.” She offered politely. Ironically, she still had a trace of shame after all the shameful deeds. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop her from doing them. She eagerly awaited death so she could get some rest.

  “Aight shawty.” Trigga sighed. Fuck it, it was late and he was bored so why not get some head.

  Shawn wasted no time in getting him inside of her mouth. She hummed an old Negro spiritual as she blew him until he blew. Once he finished, she stood and showed him that missing tooth again in appreciation. He handed over two nicks of dope to show his.

  Trigga sold the rest of his dope and went home. Again he sat two hundred aside and intended to flip a thousand. He wished his brother was home so he could re-up and go back to the trap. Since that wasn’t an option, he went to bed. He had only slept for a couple of hours when he was rudely awakened.

  “Shawty, say Shawty!” Keith called while shaking his foot. The man who spent the last four years in prison reacted accordingly to being touched.

  “Fuck wrong wit you?” Trigga barked jumping to his feet with his fist cocked and ready to rock.

  “Easy shawty!” Keith laughed with his hands up in surrender. “I ain’t tryna fight, I’m tryna fuck.”

  Sharika stood shyly behind him as if embarrassed. She wasn’t, she just wished she could be with him but he wasn’t even thinking about it. In fact, he let out a little laugh at her in the clownish outfit and knock-off pumps.

  “Aight Shawty. Say, let me get two more of them thangs,” he announced.

  “Two!” Keith shot back in horror. He hated that he sold two ounces of dope already. “I can let you get one.”

  “That’s what’s up.” Trigga frowned and handed over five hundred dollars. He knew right then that his half brother was a full hater. He was in his way and he would have to go around him to come up like he planned.

  Trigga tried to ignore the sexual sounds echoing in the otherwise empty apartment as he cooked up the coke. The couple was really putting on for his benefit. He kept asking whose pussy it was to which she lied and said it was his. It was everybody’s pussy and she knew it. Sharika was 'oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ as if he was really beating it up. In truth her vagina was so big from child birth and abuse it was as tight as throwing a hot dog down a hallway.

  Again, Trigga fought the urge to stretch the coke as he cooked it. In the end he decided to keep it raw and build a fan base. He would have the best dope in the trap and be the man. Everything was going according to plans. He was going to grind non-stop until his birthday on July 18th and come out balling. July 18th, same day as Cameisha’s when fate would introduce them.

  Chapter 8

  “Uh oh! Somebody tryna look fly for somebody.” Aqua cheered when Dasia came from the bathroom looking fly.

  “Yeah me and Calvin going to dinner and a movie and fucking.” Dasia sang and giggled.

  “Eww you so nasty.” Aqua spat with a frown.

  “Yeah right! Like you and what’s his face ain’t gone tear the bed down again once I leave.” She shot back.

  “Shole is!” Aqua laughed mocking Cameisha and her country grammar. “His name is Steven and he can get it anytime he wants it.”

  “Speaking of ‘shole is’, you talk to Meisha?” Dasia asked casually.

  “Nope, but Jackie ‘posed to re-up for us. She need to come on cuz we almost out.”

  “Me too,” Dasia replied having sold most of the weed. The conversation was cut short when the door bell rang. Dasia jumped up and rushed over to answer it.

  “Hey Calvin,” Dasia said opening the door wide enough for him to come in. Once she closed it behind him they shared an innocuous hug but no kiss. Aqua would have thought it odd if she thought. She didn’t.

  “Sup Dasia,” he replied almost dryly. “Hey, you guys got any coke? My friends wanna score a couple of eight balls.”

  “You gotta holla at her,” she replied pointing at Aqua with her head. “She handles that.”

  “Two eight balls? Two hundred dollars.” The salesperson stated. It amazed Aqua how much money spent on the small packages of powder. Then they would keep coming back for more. They would come back for more even after running out of money. Luckily Aqua had been schooled on the ten crack commandments. Meisha actually made her learn the words to the song by that name from the late great B.I.G.

  “No problem.” Calvin announced and produced two brand new colorful hundred dollar bills.

  Aqua took the cash and went to the bedroom to retrieve the blow. She returned a minute later to complete the sale. Calvin accepted the drugs and put them into his pocket without even looking at them. That too would have been odd had Aqua not been Aqua.

  “Don’t do nothing I wouldn’t do.” Aqua called after Dasia when she hit the door.

  “Girl there ain’t nothing you ain’t did.” Dasia laughed. It was funny but it wasn’t true. Unlike Dasia, Aqua hadn’t eaten pussy before.

  After the good laugh, she followed Calvin out of the building and around the corner to where he was parked. He hit the remote locks, unlocking the sedan as they neared it. He didn’t bother opening her door since he wasn’t a gentlemen; in fact, he was gay but he wasn’t the only one. Dasia got into the back seat and leaned over to kiss the passenger.

  “Mmm baby.” Lisa purred after they ran their tongues around in each other’s mouths.

  “Get a room.” Calvin quipped like the bitch he was.

  “We’re about to!” Lisa snapped and spread her legs so Dasia could play under her short skirt. “Drive!”

  “Oh! Before I forget,” Dasia said and handed him two hundred dollar bills. He accepted them and gave her the coke she purchased through him.

  Drive Calvin did, directly to the hotel where the lesbian lovers reserved a room. Once inside they smoked, sipped and licked the night away. The coke was snorted between breaks in the serious girl-girl action.

  “So how long you gonna keep sneaking around behind your boss’ back?” Lisa asked after inhaling a long line of coke from the table.

  “Well considering that she’s gonna send me back to New York if she finds out, I ain’t bout to tell her.”

  “Send you back? Like you a child or something?” Lisa chided. “You need to just come stay with me.”

  “Stay with you?” Dasia asked actually considering the option. “Stay with you….”

  ****

  “Here she come,” Bad ass exclaimed when Cameisha emerged from the building. He hopped up and smoothed his eyebrows with his fingers and straightened his clothes.

  “Sup yo, how’d that go?” Meisha asked as she approached.

  “Cool yo, ‘cept them heads was complaining it wasn’t as good as the first,” Self replied. As he spoke he proudly produced a large roll of drug money and handed it over.

  Cameisha shoved the bank roll into her pocket and looked curiously at Bad ass. He stared up at her batting his eyes and flashing the smile that allowed him to fuck all the project girls in his age group. Today, it just got him laughed at.

  “Boy stop!” Meisha giggled and patted his curly head. The youngster leaned into the contact much like a puppy would. Had he had a tail it would have been wagging.

  “Yo, I just blessed the game and cut ‘em fat so that’s a band. Fifty-fifty,” Self explained. Being trusted was something new to him even though he was as trustworthy as they came.

  “Aight yo,” Meisha replied. She had already doubled her money and still had two more ounces to go. “Yall ready for another bomb?”

  “Hell yeah!” The boys cheered in unison.

  “Holla when you done,” she said tossing the crack cookie to Bad Ass masking him blush. She spun on her heels and headed towards Sincerity’s building.

  “Bet I’ma hit that.” Bad Ass challenged, watching Cameisha’s ass shift from side to side as she walked away.

  “Bet your share of that?” Self dared.

  “Um… nah.
She said I gotta wait til I’m 21,” he stammered.

  The boys went into the staircase and chopped the dope into twenties, then hit the trap. Meanwhile, Cameisha went to go play with the baby. She had hope to chop it up with that Chronicles of a Killer dude but Uncle Killa was off doing what he does best. Can you say KILLA SEASON 2?

  “Aight lil mama, don’t be getting all maternal on me.” Sincerity warned watching Meisha dote over the baby with Little X hovering close by.

  “Nah, I’m auntie not mommy. Not until I make a couple mil first.” She shot back. Corruption has a way of changing a person’s nature. That’s why women could sell their bodies or men sell drugs to their own people. How else could people destroy their communities and selves if not for the devil’s deception? Cameisha too had traded childhood hopes and dreams for the fast money. Instead of a wife and mother she wanted to be a dope girl.

  “So when you going back to Atlanta?” Sincerity asked.

  “In a couple of days. My birthday is next week and school starts up again in a couple weeks,” she replied much to Sincerity’s relief. She knew Cameisha well enough to see she was getting caught up. As long as she stayed in school she might be alright. “Plus, I miss my girls.”

  “How they doing down there?”

  “Great! They both working, got an apartment, boyfriends.” Meisha said putting a positive spin on the half truth.

  As the girls made girl talk, Cameisha stole glances out to the courtyard. She was very impressed at how Self and Bad Ass were handling business. The youngsters set up shop across the courtyard from each other on separate benches. Self took the dough and sent them to Bad Ass for the dope. However many fingers Self held up was the amount of rocks they received. Have them tell it, they spent a hundred bucks each.