“Kenya, I ain’t lying. That boy gonna end up in a casket one day double-crossing a bitch like me!” Paris knocked a framed picture of him and her to the floor. “He got me twisted! Shit, I need a damn drink!”
“Girl, why don’t you come on over so we can kick it in person? I can get London to cook us up some hot wings and fries,” Kenya suggested, wanting some company other than Storm and her sister, both of whom were quiet.
Paris looked at herself again in the mirror, coming up with a better idea. “Why don’t I just swing by and swoop your ass up? We can hit the Steak House, then the hair salon. How about it?”
“Girl, you know I can’t leave Storm alone. He needs someone by his side constantly.”
“You need to get out and get some fresh air. Your sister can stay home and look after him,” Paris pleaded with her best friend. “I know you look a hot mess right about now.”
Kenya noticed that three of her fingernails were in bad need of a fill-in and her polish was chipped. She then tried running her fingers through her hair, but was stopped by a few naps. “Yeah, I do need a touch-up and a manicure.”
“Then it’s settled. Let me get dressed and I’ll come get you!” Paris was geeked to finally, even if it was temporary, have her road dawg back.
“Pump your brakes, Paris. I gotta go ask London first.”
“Okay cool, but hurry up and call me back before I jump in the shower and wash O.T.’s good lying-ass off me.”
“You silly as hell,” Kenya giggled. “Just give me a minute to check and see what’s up.”
Paris and Kenya automatically assumed that London would be the perfect person to stay with Storm, considering the fact she didn’t have a life of her own. Kenya’s life and world had somehow swallowed it whole. The best friends never thought maybe London wanted to go out for lunch or get her hair done. She was also stuck in the house in a strange town with no friends. But that didn’t stop Kenya from asking her for a favor just the same.
Kenya stopped in to check on Storm before going downstairs. He was quiet and seemed to be resting peacefully. Since the dosage was decreasing, he seemed to be in and out of consciousness more often. She kissed him softly and made her way to the lower level of the condo. When she got in the living room, she found her twin sister doing something that she’d never seen her do before. London was stretched out across the couch, feet up on a pillow, watching rap videos and even acting like she was enjoying them.
“No, you ain’t! I thought you said videos were stupid and degrading to women? Now your butt sitting up here posted like a motherfucker!”
“Shut up!” London threw a pillow at Kenya. “I’m just looking at this ghetto trash, trying to understand exactly what everyone finds so interesting.”
London was a lie and the truth wasn’t in her. She had been keeping her eyes glued on the way the girls danced and moved their asses, to the way they dressed. She understood why O.T. liked Paris, who was smart, pretty, and always had his back. Paris truly had her shit together; that part was undeniable. Even if she wanted to hate, she couldn’t find much. But that serpent Chocolate Bunny was altogether different. From what London had heard about her, she was no more than a dirty, unkempt gutter rat. Whatever O.T. saw in her, Paris, Kenya, and London were all hard-pressed to realize. Maybe all the wild, nasty videos would shed some light on the dilemma and help London to turn O.T. on. If it took being sleazy and a little hot in the ass to achieve the ultimate goal of having O.T. all to herself, then so be it, that’s what she’d do.
“Listen, London, would you mind sitting upstairs with Storm for a few hours so I can run out for a little while with Paris? Please?”
London had been hoping and wishing that Kenya would leave the house so that she could be alone with O.T. when he would come over for one of his daily afternoon visits. Now was her time and to make shit even better, Kenya was hanging out with Paris. She would have O.T. all to herself.
“Yeah, sis, I’ll stay here. No problem.”
Kenya went and called Paris back, informing her that their plan was a go. She took a quick bath and got dressed. Meanwhile, London stayed downstairs and plotted her seduction game plan. Twenty minutes later Paris pulled up, blowing her horn.
“Don’t worry about Storm. I’ll make sure to check in on him every fifteen minutes and give him his medicine on time,” London convinced her sister all would be well. “Go and have a nice time. He’s in good hands. Take all the time you need.”
“Say you promise!” Kenya hugged London.
“Yeah, I promise!” London walked her twin to the front porch, waving hello to Paris, knowing she was secretly scheming on stealing her man right from underneath her nose.
13
Fuck Da World
O.T.
O.T. had the sounds in his car on bump as usual, causing all the other car windows to vibrate that he passed along the way. The long valet line at the mall’s main entrance didn’t matter one bit to him as he pulled up to the front and parked his ride up on the curb. He and his brother not only knew the parking attendants, they hung out with the lot’s owners on a regular basis, making O.T. feel like he was above waiting for shit. He threw the guy his keys in case of emergency and walked inside.
He was already ten minutes late and wasted no time in going over to the designated meeting spot near the food court. It was always busy with people moving about, so he and his visitor would more than likely go unnoticed. It was no way that he wanted to draw attention to them. He looked around and didn’t see the person yet, so he decided to order a large soda. By the time he reached in his pocket to pay the cashier for it, she was there.
“Hey babe, did you get me something wet to put in my mouth?” she flirted while sticking out her tongue to reveal the small gold ball pierced through the middle.
“Damn girl! You slick with your shit. I didn’t even see your ass coming.” O.T. ordered her a small soda to drink and fought the urge for her to lick the head of his dick just like she used to. “A brother better be careful dealing with your good creeping ass!”
“You know how I do, baby. Ain’t shit changed since back in the day!” She sipped her drink slowly out the straw as she stared into O.T.’s eyes.
“I heard that,” He took a large gulp of the soda and tossed the rest of it into one of the garbage cans. “But I’m trying to take care of some other shit today so I need to hurry the fuck up!”
O.T. took his time as he scanned his surroundings for signs of any trouble or unwelcome eyes on them. When he felt the coast was clear he pulled out a gigantic knot of money, big enough to choke King Kong, and slipped it casually into Nicole’s oversized purse.
“Do I need to count it?” she playfully teased, pushing his arm. “Or can I trust you?”
“Come on, girl, act like you know! I don’t make moves that ain’t right or have you forgotten?” O.T.’s eyes shot down toward the huge print in his pants. “I’ll expect to hear from your smart-ass tonight!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ll see you later at the club, don’t worry.” Nicole grinned, closing her purse. Being the true whore she was, she stood up, straightening out the ultra-short bright red sundress that was plastered to her thick frame.
“That’s a bet, and be on time!” O.T. winked, getting a quick, glimpse of her two firm breasts, which were close to almost falling out of her clothes.
“Damn, I almost forgot. Can you keep a secret?” She put one hand on her hip and the other in his face.
“What is it?” He waited for her to answer.
Nicole leaned up and whispered in O.T.’s ear, causing him to smile. He then hugged her tightly and kissed her on her forehead before they parted ways.
“Okay, then drinks on me later,” O.T. laughed as he walked away to the valet. “Or something like that, I guess!”
“You crazy boy!”
“Ain’t that some foul-ass shit?”
Paris’s homegirl and spy down at Alley Cats, Jordan, happened to be at the mall at the right time
. She was busy spending the money that she made from doing a private party the night before and fucked around and got an eyeful of what was sure to be labeled the gossip of the year. Paris’s man O.T. was giving Nicole Daniels a gang of loot. After all the denying that he was doing to Paris about that tramp, he was out in public, in the middle of the freaking food court no less, tearing the bitch off proper style and to top it all, hugging her black-ass.
“Hell naw! I’ve gotta call Paris!” Jordan smirked as she whipped out her cell to put O.T.’s ass straight on blast. It’s gonna be a whole lot of crazy shit jumping off at Alley Cats tonight, Jordan thought to herself as Paris’s voice mail clicked on. She left her a message, “Hey girl, this is Jordan. Hit me back as soon as you get this. I need to put a bug in your ear about a little something. Trust me, you’re gonna bug all the way when I tell you what I just seen. Call me back first thing first!”
GIRLFRIENDS
“Kenya, I’m so happy that you came out to hang with me.” Paris had the air-conditioning on high and a mix CD pumping. “I miss your wild ass!”
“Child, me too. Now you know I love Storm like a motherfucker, but a bitch did need some air. Plus, look at my nails and please, let’s not even mention this tangled mess on my head! I walked passed the mirror this morning and scared the hell out of myself.”
Paris and Kenya couldn’t help but laugh until tears came out their eyes. It was just like old times.
“What about this crap?” Paris snatched one of O.T.’s baseball caps off her head. “If that nasty fool nigga wasn’t so busy trying to take that pussy, my shit wouldn’t be on the nut.”
They had just finished up with a good lunch and a couple of strong drinks and were on their way to the hair salon. Hair In Da Hood was the most popular spot in all of Dallas when it came to getting your hair looking topnotch. It stayed packed with wall-to-wall customers who would often range from lawyers and doctors to freaks and hoes.
Charday was the salon owner and the main stylist that everyone wanted to do their hair. Her chair stayed full. Most of the time a person would have to make an appointment at least two or three weeks ahead of time. But of course, Ms. Charday, a true hustler, would always make exceptions for her special clients and her good friends. And since Paris and Kenya were known for being big-ass spenders when it came to tipping, they automatically fit into both categories.
Her man played professional ball and bought Hair In Da Hood as a birthday present for her twenty-first birthday. After some major remodeling, a few hair shows, and a gang of slamming commercials, Charday was off and running in the hair game, clocking major figures. Nine out of ten times, even if you got there early, you’d end up leaving late.
In between the bootleg-movie guys hustling, the supposed-to-be-authentic purse dude or somebody’s grandmother selling soul food dinners, not to mention all the off-the-wall gossip that would fly in, out, and around the salon, it could very easily turn into an all-day event. Some of the nosy bitches around town would live for the weekends so they could get into the next hoe’s mix and cause trouble.
Nevertheless, Paris and Kenya were on a mission to pamper themselves for the day and that meant no stress and no drama or trauma.
“I’ve got a good idea. For the rest of the afternoon, let’s make a pact not to bring up, mention, whine or complain about that pair of brothers we’re linked up with.” Paris stuck her hand out and waited. “Well, you gonna leave me hanging or what?”
“Naw chick, I got you!” Kenya gave her a play. “Bet it up for real!”
“Now that’s what the fuck I’m talking about!” Paris yelled out as she adjusted the volume up as high as it could go.
The girls put their seats back as they floated down the highway toward the salon. Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up in a crowded parking lot, trying to find a space that wasn’t eight doors down or around the corner.
“Damn! Is every trick in town up in that joint?” Paris frowned as she pulled her car into a tiny corner of the lot. “I hope our girl ain’t too booked. I’d hate to have to smack somebody out the chair, but my shit is on emergency status.” Paris looked at Kenya with a straight face like she was serious.
She turned the car’s ignition off and reached for her purse that was on the backseat before she made her exit.
“Dang, you right, Paris.” Kenya joined in on talking shit as she got out of the car. “Charday and them must be giving away free cheese, honey, and butter inside. I ain’t never seen this motherfucker on bump like this either.”
The girls swung the door open and stepped inside. Just as they figured, the salon was packed. Sable was the receptionist and was standing behind the desk, trying her best to reason with one of the many irate customers who were getting tired of waiting.
“Hey y’all!” Sable happily waved her hand in the air. “Long time, no see. Where y’all divas been hiding?”
“Just chillin’ a little bit, that’s all,” Kenya replied.
“Yeah, Sable, we call our self letting our hair have a break from all the chemicals,” Paris added, trying to play off their recent absence from the scene.
“I heard that,” Sable responded, seeming frustrated at the phone that was ringing nonstop and the angry woman with conditioner in her damp hair in a plastic cap who kept coming back up to the desk to complain.
Kenya took a quick survey of the waiting room and asked the million-dollar question. “Hey Sable, how many customers do Charday have backed up in this tiny motherfucker and can she squeeze us in?”
“Well, let me check the book. I’m sure she can definitely work something out for y’all two.” Sable grabbed the sign-in sheet and took the pencil out from behind her ear.
The lady who was standing there was pissed and sucked her teeth as she waited for Sable’s answer. She had been there ever since 11:45 in the morning and still hadn’t been rinsed or blow-dried. Same old story, once again as always, Charday had overbooked and had folks pissed.
“I’m gonna go speak to Charday myself and make sure.” Kenya stopped Sable from trying to rearrange things. “I’ll be right back.”
Paris twisted her lip up at the agitated lady and let out a loud sigh. “Go ahead, girl, and see what’s popping. I’ll wait here and keep Ms. Thang and Sable company.”
The woman took that as her cue to go back to her seat, shut the fuck up, and wait until she was called. It was either that or nine out of ten times get a quick double-trouble-ass beat-down from Kenya and Paris. When Kenya returned she had good news and bad news. The good news was that Charday could fit them both in, but they had to give her at least thirty minutes to finish up with the girl in her chair. The bad news was that she had to slip Charday a crisp hundred-dollar bill and promised her a bottle of new perfume for the deed. It was all part of being Storm and O.T.’s girls. They had to play the role—after all, no matter where they went, bitches hated. It came along with the territory being labeled “the shit.”
Paris and Kenya sat down next to the angry woman who had pulled out a book and was totally engulfed in reading. She appeared not to even care anymore that she was still waiting as she turned page after page without once looking up.
Paris opened her purse and got out her cell phone to look at the time. “Shit, I didn’t hear this thing ringing.” The screen said two missed calls and had a small envelope in the upper corner indicating that someone had left a voice message. Paris stepped into the bathroom to listen to the message. It was much quieter in there. It was no women gossiping and the sound of the loud radio and television was muffled. Jordan wants me to call her as soon as possible. What the fuck could this be about? Paris wondered as she returned the call. On the first ring, Jordan picked up.
“Hey Paris, what took you so long?”
“Hey sis, I had my phone in my purse, what’s the deal?”
“Girl, before I tell you this bullshit, you’d better sit down first.”
“You too silly! Stop tripping and tell me what you gotsta say! What’s going
on?”
“Well girl, I was just out at the mall jacking off some spare change and guess who the fuck I saw?”
“Who?” Paris’s heart started pumping fast as she awaited the answer from Jordan. From the tone of Jordan’s voice, Paris could tell that the name that was sure to come out of her mouth would bring automatic fury.
“I seen that slut ho Nicole.”
“Nicole! Who the fuck is Nicole?” Paris tried to keep her now-agitated voice down.
“Come on, Paris, you know who I’m talking about, girl . . . Chocolate damn Bunny, that’s fucking Nicole!”
“And? What’s the big deal about that? Hoes gotta shop too!” Paris tried to crack a joke to ease the pain of what might be coming next.
Jordan didn’t laugh as she gave her homegirl the lowdown. “Yeah, but she wasn’t alone. She was at the food court all hugged up with O.T.”
“What! What you say?” Paris closed her eyes, wishing she hadn’t just heard what she thought she heard. “Are you for sure?”
“Yes Paris, I’m certain,” Jordan reassured her of what she had just witnessed. “He was wearing some dark-colored jeans, a Mavericks jersey, and Tims. That trick Chocolate Bunny had on a skintight red dress and was rocking a big Gucci bag. Knowing her fake-ass, it was probably bootleg!” Jordan vindictively added.
“It’s all good in the hood. I’m gonna handle it.” Paris pretended to be brave as her hand shook. “I got this!”
“Oh, yeah it’s more. I even saw him give that tramp a nice-sized knot of cash! Hell, I wanted to follow that tack-head and rob her my damn self! With her stankin’ no-good low-down dirty-ass! She ain’t shit!”
“All right, Jordan, good looking on the info. I’ll see you later tonight at the club.”
Ruthless and Rotten Page 10