by Brick
The dude stumbled from the bathroom wiping white powder from his nose. He then turned a bottle of Henny to his ashy black lips. That nigga was straight-up ugly. The nappy twists on top of his head looked like dried worms. He cut his bloodshot eyes over at me.
“Damn, Sasha. Who dat?” he asked, motioning his head my way.
“Don’t worry about it, nigga,” Sasha snapped. “Now get the fuck out before Dame has Trigga body you.”
“You saying that shit like a nigga scared of Trigga or some shit. That nigga can get got just like any other muthafucka. He ain’t invincible.”
Sasha rolled her eyes and then turned to snatch the door open, shoving whoever he was out the heavy mahogany door.
“Stupid niggas.” She sucked her teeth. “Anyway, bitch, get up and follow me to the bathroom.”
She started to walk back to where her and leather lips had come from, like she hadn’t just called me a bitch.
“My name is Ray-Ray.”
She scoffed then jerked her head back like she had been slapped. “I don’t give a fuck what your name is, bitch! Get yo’ black ass in here so you can shower. By the time Dame and them niggas get finish wit’ yo’ ass, yo’ name gon’ be whatever the fuck he want it to be anyway.”
I stood with my fist balled. At this point, I no longer gave a damn where I was or who she was. I wasn’t gonna be anybody’s bitch. “Call me a bitch again,” I dared her.
She dropped her folded arms and tilted her head to the side with a smirk that said she was amused or maybe she thought me to be a joke.
She smacked her lips, rolled her eyes, and chuckled. “It’s always you new young hoes that gotta make a bitch show her hand.”
I didn’t say anything as we stared one another down. All I could think about was that I was in a new place and alone. I had nobody, so it was me against the world. Daddy may have babied me most times, but when he did school me on fighting, he always taught me to attack before being attacked. I already knew I had to fight. I had to let people know that I was no punk.
We played that staring game for a few more seconds before she shook her head and gave a tsk sound with her mouth.
She looked like she was going to go to the bathroom, and I made the mistake of taking my eyes off her. Next thing I knew, she yanked me by my hair and threw me on the floor. I kicked and swung back, but she had the upper hand. She straddled her big ass on me and started hammering me with closed fists back to back.
I brought both arms up to protect myself as best I could. I admit, for the most part, I was a little scared. I had even thought about just lying there and letting her beat me to death, but then, out of nowhere, I could have sworn I heard my mother in my ear., You better get up and get this black bitch off you. You don’t let no bitch try to steal your beauty. This ugly-ass ho trying to fuck yo’ face up because you the new competition. Get the fuck up and handle yo’ shit, Ray-Ray.
I didn’t know where my strength came from, but I screamed out, uncovered my face, and dug my nails so deep in that bitch’s face that she yelled and fell back. When that ho fell over, I jumped up quick as ever and went to work on her face. I grabbed a fistful of her weave, yanked her head down, and started upper-cutting that bitch. I dragged her ass across the room, and every time she tried to get up, I yanked her head down harder. All I heard were her screams.
As I dragged her, I slipped and fell backwards on a table that I didn’t see, sending lamps crashing to the floor. I kept her hair in my hand though, and then used my feet to kick her in the stomach to keep her from getting back on top of me, but she still got some hits in.
“Bitch, let my fuckin’ hair go! I’ma kill you, ho!” she screamed.
By then the door had come flying open, and I could hear men and women yelling that a fight was going on.
“Oh shit. My nigga, we got us one,” a male yelled.
I could hear Trinidad James playing, but I was focused on keeping that big, tall Amazon bitch off of me.
“Fuck you, bitch!” I yelled back and kicked her in her stomach as I banged the back of her head.
She twisted and turned, trying to get her footing. One of her fists landed in my jaw, another in my stomach, knocking the wind out of me, but I didn’t let that bitch’s weave go. I tried to yank that shit from the scalp.
“Ahahahahaha! Oh shit, Dame. Yo’ bitches in here tearing it down, my nigga!”
There was that deep, raspy voice again. That broke my attention. I turned toward the door trying to see the man who had helped killed my parents. Big mistake. Sasha straddled me again and got a few good hits in my face, but I kept swinging on that ho. She tried to lean in to choke me, but I wasn’t about to let her choke me out. I’d been knocked unconscious too many times already. As she leaned in, her almost nonexistent titty fell out. I latched on and bit down so hard I was sure I drew blood.
“Ahhhh! Ahhhh!” Sasha screamed. “This ho biting me. Dough Boy, come get this bitch.”
I kept biting, yanking her weave from the root, and she kept screaming and punching. Feet rushed into the room. I saw Timberland boots and the one with the raspy voice she’d called Dough Boy, who tried pulling her off me.
The guy in the Timberland boots came my way and snatched me up. By the time I saw the blade coming for my face, it was almost too late. As I threw my hands up, Dough Boy yanked Sasha back and the blade fell from her.
Since the one they called Trigga was the only one I’d seen in Timberland boots, I figured it was he who’d grabbed me. His hard body was pressed against my back.
My eyes trained on the blade that had fallen to the floor, I kicked and swung my elbows back and forth trying to get away from Trigga. I didn’t even realize my bra had been ripped off. Sasha’s blood was in my mouth, and blood also leaked from her face.
“Aye, li’l shawty, calm yo’ ass down,” he said to me in a low growl.
It was the same tone of voice he’d used earlier. Something about the way he said those words chilled me, made me stop struggling against his hold. I believed he was the one that kept knocking me out before. I didn’t want to be put to sleep again, not in this place.
He had a strong arm wrapped around my waist. I looked down at his wrists and saw a fresh tattoo. They looked like chains, slave chains. That nigga was weird. People had gathered in the room. More girls in different kinds of catsuits, but mostly red-and-white, filed in. Their outfits made them stand out from the rest of the half-naked women around.
When the girls in the catsuits all moved away and huddled into a corner with the look of fear in their eyes, I knew Dame was near.
His expensive shoes were the first things I saw. Then the cream-colored linen suit with the shirt open, showing his white wifebeater and chiseled chest. He was tall, at least six four, and light like Sasha. He was mixed with something. What? I didn’t know. A low-cut Caesar with deep waves adorned his head, razor-shaped to perfection.
Hazel eyes cast a mean glare from me to Sasha and then from Sasha to me.
There was a grimace on his face that said he wasn’t happy at all. The look was mean, evil, like he was about to snap and kill us both without hesitation.
The voices that had been loud just moments before were now so quiet, I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.
I could never say that he wasn’t fine as hell because he was. Even to my young eyes. But there was a fear in the room, especially over those women huddled against the wall that said his good looks also came with ruthlessness.
“Sasha, what the fuck is going on in here?” Dame asked in a coarse voice.
“This li’l raggedy bitch you done brought in—”
Dame moved to stand in front of her quick as lightning. “You forget who the fuck you talking to?”
She swallowed and cast her glance down to the floor then back up at him, one hand over her exposed breasts.
“No, Daddy, I didn’t,” she said, her voice much softer. “I was trying to get the new girl ready like you said and she attacked me.”
> “I did not! You saggy-titty bitch!” I spat.
I didn’t understand how a woman with hardly any titties had sagging ones. I could hear a few of the dudes laughing, looking from her chest to mine.
“Shut up!” Dame barked at me as he pointed.
I snapped back, “You shut up!”
Judging by the way the women by the wall widened their eyes, I could tell I’d said the wrong thing.
My reward? Trigga tossed me so hard over the bed, I fell to the floor and hit my head against another wall.
I heard a few chuckles from some niggas standing around. By the time, I opened my eyes to look up, Dame was coming toward me with a look on his face that almost made me piss myself. I knew if he was going to hit me, then I was going to feel it deep in my bones.
My eyes skirted between Dame and the blade. I was too far away now.
Trigga stopped him. “You got some bosses downstairs, right, Bossman. Don’t let li’l shawty keep you away from your business. Take care of that later.”
The devil was in that man’s eyes. Something in the way he glared at me told me I would pay for what I had said to him. One way or another I’d pay for my disrespect.
“Gina, get this bitch to another room,” Dame ordered. “Let’s see if you can handle the simple task of getting her to shower and dress.”
A girl in a white catsuit came forward. She was timid. Like she was afraid to move the wrong way for fear of what Dame would do to her. Gina was almost as dark as me, and slim, and she had long braids down past her ass. She looked like she could be Kelly Rowland’s twin sister. Her big doe-like eyes were wide as she chewed on her bottom lip.
She walked over and kneeled a little to help me. She whispered, “You gon’ have to learn how to talk to him, or he’s going to kill you.”
It was almost like her lips didn’t move. I felt at ease with her. She was scared like me. Young like me too.
“Janay, call the doc and have him look at Sasha.” Dame scowled down at Sasha. “You still gon’ make me my money tonight. You understand me?”
“But, Daddy, I’m fucked up.”
“Who the fuck you talking to?”
Dame backhanded her so hard, every woman and even some niggas gasped. I swear her neck was broken in two places. More blood poured from her nose like a faucet.
I remember Daddy hitting Mama like that a couple times.
I almost felt sorry for the bitch as she fell to the floor like a rag doll. Almost.
Dame drew back and smacked her again.
Sasha screamed out then stopped as soon as the noise had left her mouth. It was like Dame had enforced a rule of no screaming when he smacked the shit out of you.
“Get the fuck up! Since you want to talk back like you run shit, stand up and take this ass-whupping like you can run my shit.”
Dame’s lips were tight, his eyes narrowed. He’d been embarrassed in front of his house, first by me, the new girl, and then by Sasha, who should have known better.
Her whimpers and the way she was backing away in terror bothered me.
Trigga cut his eyes over at me. It was like he was warning me in some way, but I couldn’t tell. His eyes were blank; the boy carried no emotions. It was just the way he slowly turned to look at me that made me feel like he was trying to tell me something.
I didn’t have time to think on that though. Gina rushed me from the room so fast, we were almost running. She shoved her way through the crowd, and once we were in the clear, we hightailed it down the hall. The smell of beer, liquor, and weed assaulted my senses. I almost got a contact high just passing down the hall.
Gina took me to another room, closed the door, and locked it. She checked all the doors and windows then the two walk-in closets.
“Damien, be having some fucked-up people in here sometimes. Gotta make sure we safe, is all,” she told me. “Guess you know my name is Gina. Daddy don’t like when we fight because he says it fucks with his money—and nobody fucks with Daddy’s money.”
I just listened as she talked. I thought she could have potential to help me with my plan when the time came.
She walked into a small closet and then came back out with towels and Dove Body Wash. “You have to wash in this stuff, ’cuz he likes the smell of Dove,” she said. “Never wash yo’ pussy in nothing else or he will flip.
“You might as well get ready to get yo’ ass whupped for talking to him like that too. He ain’t gon’ let that shit slide. He never do.”
As she talked she kept grabbing stuff and handing it to me—butter cream lotion, new red lace thongs with the bra to match, and a red dress that looked more like a shirt.
Gina’s voice sounded like it had wisdom, but I could tell she was still young in the mind, by the way she acted.
“What’s all this stuff?” I asked.
“His favorite color is red. You gon’ have to wear red now to show him that, although you pissed him off, you down for the game.”
“Game? What game?”
“He put you in that room with Sasha. That means you ’bout to be a new part of his team of elite bitches. We his hoes—We sell pussy and shake ass to make him his money.”
“What the fuck!” I tossed all the shit she had given me to the floor. “I ain’t about to sell no pussy for no nigga!”
Gina shook her head. “That’s what you think, but once Dame has you on his turf, you gon’ do what the fuck he wants you to do, by choice or by force. You don’t want it by force, trust me. I seen what they do to bitches ’round here. You ain’t gotta go that route.”
“No. I’m better than that. My mama didn’t raise me to be no ho.”
“Girl, please. Your mama was the biggest ho ’round here. She brought most of us to Dame for a fee. How the hell you think I got here? I been doing this shit since I was sixteen. Yo’ mama Shanna the Great, is what they call her ’round here. Why? Because she gave great head, had great pussy, and brought Dame the greatest pussy to sell. There gon’ be a lot of niggas lining up too by yo’ little tight snatch. Niggas already spreading rumors you a virgin and shit. Dame had been wanting yo’ ass for a long time anyway. But your mama would kill a nigga talking ’bout getting yo’ little ass. Yo’ daddy would too, but not quick as yo’ mama would.
“Now that Dame gotchu, ain’t no fuckin’ turning back. You gon’ sell some pussy, or he gon’ get one of these niggas, probably Trigga’s crazy ass, to leave you stanking. Now, you can sell some pussy and live, or refuse and die.” She started picking the stuff up from the floor.
Sixteen? My mama brought her here when she was only sixteen? I was sixteen and I just couldn’t imagine being forced to sell myself.
Gina extended her arm out to me, but I refused to take the items. I moved away from her and grabbed the bath towel to wipe Sasha’s blood from my lips. I went to sit on the bed.
The wind against my nipples reminded me that my bra was gone. I used my arms to cover them.
“See, I’m trying to help you. Don’t get fucked up like most these bitches ’round here. I’m only eighteen and I done been doped up, raped, beat up, and all. They brought two new girls in here after me, and I tried to help ’em because them other bitches ain’t gon’ help you. Them bitches like Sasha jealous as fuck, and they gon’ do whatever to keep you down. ’Cuz them hoes don’t be wanting you getting they bread. Daddy be a dick most times, but he take real good care of us in here. We get money, trips, cars, clothes, shoes, the best of everything—as long as we do what he says. But them last two bitches they brought in here didn’t make it. One OD’d and the other one got missing. This nigga named Micah—he be getting rid of bodies for Dame—took her out of here, and we ain’t seen her since. We all know what the fuck that mean. Don’t get missing, because you can’t close your eyes and pretend you somewhere else while letting a nigga fuck you.”
I heard her, but I didn’t care what she said. I knew that I’d rather die than let random niggas fuck me for money. Money that I couldn’t even fuckin’ keep? No way
in hell. I couldn’t imagine having to suck indiscriminate dick just because another nigga said you had to. I didn’t care about none of that shit. All I had on my mind was how to kill the niggas that killed my parents.
Trigga
Gotdamn broads are fuckin’ crazy. This shit always happened with new pussy. Naw, shit like this always happened with any pussy, period. Broads turning on each other, acting like chickens, cluck-clucking and shit, being disrespectful and shit.
Damn, that new broad was stupid as fuck. You wanted to live, then you had to act like you did—Get in the game. I didn’t get broads at all.
A nigga knew immediately what to do. I ain’t have not one fuckin’ person there to hold my hand as soon as I hit the streets and ended up in foster homes with trill-ass goons. Niggas got it all twisted. You fight smart, not stupid as fuck.
Now I was standing with my arms over my chest in front of some Latin Kings trying to explain why some chickens interrupted the deal, two big tall-ass machete-looking goons eyeing me, trying to shake a nigga down.
Check it, I may have been young, but no nigga of any race, creed, or ethnicity could make me fear a damn thing. Not anymore. So I wasn’t fazed by it as I stared at those cats eye to eye. I was a tall nigga too. Now what?
“My bad. We had some shit to take care of, but we’re not tryin’a take up your time, sirs,” I calmly stated in Spanish.
See, only reason I was there was to communicate, because I knew their dialect, and to put bullets in their skulls if they fucked up. I’d had a Spanish foster mom who’d adopted me into her world for a while, until she died, so it wasn’t shit for me to sit down and break bread with these niggas. Now because of tricks getting catty, Dame was on some other shit and not there. So I had to take care of business for him until he got back.
“No problemo, kid. We see you gentlemen like to waste time. Let’s go, family. Don’t contact us, we’ll contact you,” their leader nonchalantly spoke up to me in Spanish. His dark eyes assessed me before he stood and brushed his Italian suit to the side and snuffed out his Cuban.