Hersband Material

by C. Wash

  “Brisa,” Brazilian Chick said, extending her hand to shake Native’s.

  Native reached out and grabbed Brisa’s hand and said, “Brisa, that’s pretty. And it’s a very fitting name. I’m Native.”

  “Very nice meeting you too, Native.”

  “I’ll give you a call…And, Brisa, when we hook up, make sure you wear that perfume,” Native said releasing her hand, giving her one more wink for the road.

  Brisa smiled and turned to walk to her car.

  ***Back in the Maxima***

  “Are you serious, young?” Mystro asked, as Native jumped back into the passenger seat and slammed the door. “Are you playing with me or what?”

  “What?” Native said.

  “Did you just jump the fuck out and book a broad in the middle of our caper?”

  “Hell yeah. Did you see her? You got me fucked all the way up if you thought I was letting that pass by, slim. Shitttt, I love bad bitches that’s my fuckin’ problem!” Native sang.

  “Moe, you go smack at anything,” Mystro chastised letting Native know that she peeps how Native will rap to any girl. “Let’s get this shit done before you book another chick that can identify your ass in a lineup,” Mystro said angrily.

  “Aight, man, pull around the back of the mall,” Native informed. “Not that many people park back there.”

  Mystro put the car in drive and proceeded to steer to the back of the mall. The night sky now covered the windows. It was completely dark outside. When they reached the back, they posted up across the parking lot, away from the mall.

  “Aight, kill the engine, son,” Native instructed.

  Mystro cut the car off and took the key out of the ignition.

  “Now, we watch and wait,” Native continued.

  “Hand me the roc,” Mystro said. “I need my drunk muscles.”

  Native handed her the pint-sized bottle, and Mystro downed a big gulp of peach Ciroc straight. She handed it back to Native for her to do the same. She did.

  “My nigga, when we see somebody that can get got, auto start the car and we gonna jump out. Then make sure you lock the door back with the key and not the alarm,” Native coached. “So when we trying to get back in, won’t no alarm sounds come on bringing unwanted attention, and no hot ass engine starting.”

  Mystro was in shock. “You sure you ain’t never done this before?” She asked. “Cuz you got the intricate details down to a science.”

  “Fuck ass no, but I watch a lot of shit and you know a nigga is well read,” Native explained. “Plus, some shit just common sense.”

  Mystro reached into the back seat and grabbed the two black zipped hooded sweatshirts. She tossed Native one and proceeded to put the other one over her head carefully so she didn’t fuzz up her braids. Native grabbed the .32 from under the passenger seat, and let it rest in her lap.

  “Look,” Native pointed ahead, “I see a mark. Lace up, let’s roll.”

  Mystro threw her Do Rag on and pulled her hood up over her head before jumping out of the car. She closed and locked the door behind her as instructed, and simultaneously hit the auto start button on her viper.

  Native was fast across the parking lot on a mission already. Mystro caught up to her, and repeatedly looked around as they advanced on their target. Native was also checking to make sure there were no potential witnesses.

  Directly in their sight was an unsuspecting female. She looked to be in her late thirties, give or take five years. She had two big shopping bags in one hand, and she was busy bumping her gums on her cell phone with the other. She stopped at a late model BMW, and appeared to be searching for her keys, never pausing her conversation once. Until, she looked up and saw two black hoodies and a gun ten feet away from her. She let out a blood-curdling scream.

  “I know you not ‘bout to rob me,” she yelled out in a ghetto twang. “Get the fuck away from me,” she continued to scream, while swinging her bags wildly towards her would be attackers.

  Like clockwork, a mall security guard doing his rounds in his patrol jeep, bent the corner and observed the scene. He rushed in their direction and to the victim’s rescue.

  CHAPTER 5

  Native was in the bathroom at home taking a shit, with the door wide open. She had a thing about closing the door while on the toilet. She felt if the door was shut, she might miss out on a whole lot of nothing going on in the rest of the house. As she sat there scrolling through her flickgram page on her iPhone, she paused when she heard her mother call her name from the other room. Maybe this was the action she was waiting on.

  “Native Houston,” Margret yelled. “Shut that damn bathroom door. I’m tired of smelling your shit while I’m trying to cook. It’s nasty and uncouth. Flush the toilet and spray.”

  “Ma…my shit smells like apples,” Native yelled while laughing, and placing her cell phone down on the cold tiled floor before flushing the toilet.

  “Like rotten damn apples. Now shut that door.”

  “Aight…Aight,” Native replied giving in to her mother.

  As she wrapped up her daily contribution to the plumbing, she heard Mystro step out of the bedroom, and move toward the bathroom. So she opened the door again.

  “Native, hurry up off that bowl, young. You funking up the whole upstairs. I need you to snap my picture right quick,” Mystro advised.

  “Damn, moe, I see you was able to come up with a fit. I thought you was still in that joint tripping off almost getting caught at the mall,” Native teased.

  “Oh, I’m tripping but you the one that came slam in here and took a shit,” Mystro shot back. “I guess your guts let you down,” she laughed. “And keep your voice down too, for your mother hear you. She liable to grill you out then make you go to church tonight.”

  “Naw, mommy good since Ife came through with the rent money.”

  “I was wondering why she was down there frying chicken,” Mystro joked. “But, what you gotta do for Ife to return the favor?”

  “I’ll worry about that shit later, we gonna party tonight,” Native said. “Man, I ain’t gonna lie, I was shook when shawty started screaming.” She continued referring to the failed robbery attempt. “But you were quick on your feet by snatching me into that cut between the buildings, then running ‘round the block. I’da never thought of that shit,” Native confessed.

  “Yeah, well I think it’s safe to say we have no future in robbing to get rich. I’m pissed I even thought it was gonna fly.” Mystro admitted embarrassed that she went along with the idea. “Here, take my picture.” Mystro said handing Native her black iPhone, while she remained on the toilet.

  “What’s this for your flickgram page?” Native questioned while squaring up the phone to get the perfect angle from her position on the toilet seat.

  “Naw, you know I gotta take a picture of what I wear so I can avoid repeats,” Mystro explained. “How you think I was able to put this fit together?”

  “I forgot you be on that shit.”

  Mystro refused to be caught wearing the same thing out in public. To avoid it, she took pictures of her outfits and texted them to herself to keep accurate records of what she wore, and the date she wore it. She practiced this ritual every time she left the house.

  “Alright, get ready,” Native said.

  Mystro stood still and allowed Native to capture the moment. “Don’t forget the shoes,” she instructed.

  Native sucked her teeth, and snapped a quick picture of Mystro’s entire ensemble. Including her all black foamposites.

  “Here,” Native handed her phone back. “I’m ‘bout to jump in this shower so I can get dressed too. That mothafuckin’ club gonna be packed tonight,” Native continued as she flushed the toilet, and closed the bathroom door.

  ***2 Hours Later***

  The club was dark and moist. It was crammed wall to wall with D.C.’s finest, and not so finest lesbians. PRIDE weekend meant everyone who was gay, and in the know, was out in the city partying. Mystro and Native chose to ring
in their party weekend at a club called, “The Delta”.

  The two twenty-something friends posted up against a wall, both drinking Corona after Corona in an attempt to rid their thoughts of their crazy day.

  As attention-starving-bucket-head’s continuously walked back and fourth in front of the duo, Mystro looked over each one, carefully searching for who could become Mrs. Mason. But in this room, nobody caught her eye. Native wasn’t interested in the girls’ antics either, she was too concerned with figuring out where her next dollar would come from. They attempted to discuss their financial problems over the club’s loud music.

  “Son, I know I keep bringing it up, but what the fuck we gonna do ‘bout some ends?” Native questioned. “I can’t keep hitting Ife up for no bread. She too freaked out, and my payback’s gonna be wild.” Native yelled referring to the fact that she would have to perform crazy sexual acts in luei of the money Ife gave her.

  Shrugging her shoulders and taking another sip of beer, Mystro laughed then yelled, “I guess we gotta look for another job, it shouldn’t be that hard to find one.”

  “Get the fuck outta here. No, I’m not ‘bout to go begging for no job. I can’t do it. I’d rather get a pack and sell it on the block.”

  “Get a pack of what,” Mystro shot back. “You ain’t no dealer, fake ass corner boy.” Mystro laughed adjusting her black frame personality glasses.

  “Fuck you, moe. We probably get cracked as soon as we hit the block fucking with your scary ass anyway,” Native came back at her.

  “What up ladies?” The MC shouted through the microphone from the stage. She was addressing the excited crowd of women. “I hope you got your cash on deck cuz the show getting ready to jump off tonight,” she screamed, and the crowd got hype.

  Mystro and Native watched as most of the women in the club rushed toward the stage in anticipation.

  “Aight, we switching it up on you early,” MC advised. “Up first is one of my niggas making her debut tonight, so be good to her. Without further delay, I give you, Hardcore.” When the MC walked away, the DJ dropped Trey Songz’s track, Love Faces.

  “When the fuck they start allowing Dom’s to dance first?” Mystro asked disgusted.

  Native shrugged her shoulders unable to answer her question. “I guess good talent is hard to come by.”

  They both looked on as the Dom strutted onto the stage, over emphasizing every slouch-socked-black timberland step she made, to the words of the song.

  The scene was too much for Mystro and Native, who were normally uninterested in watching Dom ladies perform. But it wasn’t the Dom’s performance so much as the crowd’s reaction that they paid close attention to. The women seemed to love the mess on the stage. Especially a silver-haired fox, that stood directly in front of Timbo Dom, spewing out bills like a broken ATM machine. She must have thrown at least fifty dollars in ones at her boots. While several other women who could not get enough, joined the older admirer.

  “Now this is what we need to be doing,” Native shouted with nothing but dollars signs in her eyes.

  Mystro looked at Native like she was crazy, and laughed her out. It was no way Native would be able to convince her to do anything like dancing half naked in front of an entire club of people.

  From the corner the room, Mystro noticed that she too had an admirer. And she seemed to be approaching the two friends.

  She made her way right up to Mystro, and stood so close she could have kissed her. Mystro felt weird and not sure what the woman wanted, but took it upon herself to bend down and allow her to whisper in her ear.

  “Your fine ass needs to be up there on that stage,” the admirer told her, “and I’d gladly pay to see it too.” She finished, as she tucked a fifty-dollar bill into the collar of Mystro’s black Hugo Boss Polo shirt, before stepping off.

  CHAPTER 6

  It had been a couple weeks since Mystro and Native were at the club celebrating gay pride weekend. Mystro had gone on a few job interviews, but was still unemployed and it began to weigh on her heavily. Native was adamant about them trying the dance routine out at the club for money. She used each and every moment they were together as an opportunity to convince Mystro to do it, until she gave in. And after much debate, argument and deliberation, Mystro caved.

  The night of their first performance finally arrived. They were at the Delta Nightclub, and it was packed. Although it was not as cramped as it was two weeks ago during PRIDE, the crowd was nice. The club walls were just as sweaty as ever, as the ladies of the rainbow partied on the upper and lower floors within the club. In less than one hour, Mystro and Native would make their debut. While women of all shapes and ages paid the ten-dollar cover charge for admission, Mystro and Native prepared in the dressing room downstairs.

  “Slim, you need to come over here, hit this bob and relax.” Native said.

  “I’m good, champ. I gave you my word, so I know this shit gotta go down. I’m ‘bout to take a few shots and I’ll be ready.” Mystro advised.

  “Shit, well let’s get it in.” Native yelled excited.”

  “Hook me up a shot too, Fam,” Baby Dom chimed in.

  Mystro cut her eyes toward Baby Dom, acknowledging her statement, but completely ignoring her request. Instead she poured out two shots of peach Ciroc in two plastic cups, and handed one to Native.

  “Ain’t no turning back at this point,” Mystro stated, “it’s now or never.” She dropped her shot back in one gulp.

  Native followed suit, and effortlessly downed her shot also. There was a knock at their door. “Ya’ll up next,” the club MC opened the door and shouted. She closed the door promptly after her statement was made.

  “Damn, that was quick. Here take another shot, Native,” Mystro instructed.

  “What about my cup? I need some confidence too,” Baby Dom pleaded.

  “BD, you not fucking dancing. You just collecting our money. Fuck you need a shot for?” Mystro asked.

  “Man, I’m nervous. If ya’ll embarrass ya’ll self up there, I’ma feel that shit too from the crowd, feel me?” Baby Dom advised.

  “Your nineteen-year-old-young-ass ain’t ‘bout to get drunk in here on my watch. It’s one thing if we drinking a beer while kicking it on the porch ‘round the way, but I’m not fucking with you and no liquor out in these streets. No, sir.” Native said, shutting her down.

  “Exactly, plus I need you to make sure you concentrate on our paper,” Mystro stated. “Collect it and put it in your pocket. Then after our set, meet us back down here with our cash in hand. ALL of it, not some, you got me?” Mystro continued.

  “Oh you got me all wrong, Fam. I wouldn’t take ya’ll money. Of course, I got you,” Baby Dom shouted, with a crazy twitch in her right eye.

  Mystro gave her a serious look. “I’m not playing with you. We not doing this shit for free. Get our money and come back here.”

  “Time waits for no one, let’s hit it,” Native said breaking her stare, as she put out her blunt and headed toward the door.

  The duo both checked how they looked in the mirror before exiting the small dressing room. As they approached the staircase leading to the floor stage upstairs, Mystro noticed how a few of the femmes rushed up behind them. They were coming to see the show, since they knew they were about to perform.

  Mystro’s stomach flipped with nervousness. She noticed the smile on Baby Dom’s face, as she followed behind them too. Baby Dom thought them dancing was hilarious, and couldn’t wait to see it go down.

  As they approached the area close to the stage, they checked themselves one more time. Mystro smoothed out her black Levi’s jeans. She made sure her black button down shirt hung open just right, revealing her white wife beater underneath.

  Native ran her hands through her bone straight hair, and carefully adjusted her red Washington Nationals cap securely on her head. She flipped the collar of her black polo shirt, and made sure all except the top button was closed.

  While they were getting ready, th
e femme dancer on the stage wrapped up her set. When she was done, the MC grabbed the mic to announce Mystro and Native’s upcoming performance.

  Mystro looked at Native, and raised her arm up, to give her a fist bump. Then, she threw on her shades and headed to the stage as the DJ played R. Kelley’s, Strip For You.

  As soon as the women in the crowd saw Mystro and Native ease onto the floor, they let out a thunderous yell. If they backed that reaction up with money, Mystro and Native stood to make bank. However, although they were attractive, they did not have their act together. Since they were dancing as a team, they needed to be performing as one too. Instead, they had on two different outfits and they did not have a good dance routine. They were out there winging it.

  Despite the half ass performance, some women still threw money at them. Especially an extra-large, extra-greasy, extra-old ass Dom lady. She was the type of Dom that could confuse someone. She was tall and big, and wore jeans and timbs, but had on a pink blouse and her hair was hard curled. The broad was on the fence between ugly-Femme and ugly-Dom. They referred to her as Biggie Dom, since she closely resembled a confused Biggie Smalls.

  Mystro and Native completed the song, and the DJ put on a faster one. Baby Dom was on her job while they were on the stage. She collected any bills that hit the floor, and a few others that the femme who danced before them left behind.

  Mystro and Native danced around to each woman that tipped them to express their gratitude, just as they observed many performers do. This inevitably meant that they had to thank Biggie Dom. It was clear that Mystro and Native did not want to approach her, but they had no choice. She tipped them most of the money they took in, so to slight her would be bad business.

  As luck would have it, the song ended before they had to face Biggie Dom. They rushed off the stage, and hit it back to the dressing room, to avoid the mob. Mystro did not like the look in Biggie Dom’s eyes. Her eyes screamed “PYCHO”, so the two got the hell outta there, hoping she would not follow them.