The Glamorous Life 2: All That Glitters Isn't Gold

by Nikki Turner

  Shelly went straight into the kitchen and gave Big Jack a long Gone With the Wind tongue kiss. “Hey, baby,” she said, smiling. Then she proceeded to the Victoria’s Secret shopping bag and pulled out this red sexy number. “Look what I got for you tonight.” She gleamed. “I know how you like me in red and all.” She smiled again.

  Calliope and Compton turned their noses up thinking of their mother modeling the negligee. “Yuck,” they both agreed.

  Big Jack looked it over and nodded. “That’s nice, real nice,” he said, smacked her on her butt, and then asked, “And what else you got?”

  Shelly was just as excited to share her shopping experience with her man, who had funded it all. She happily began pulling things out of the designer and boutique shopping bags, displaying all the things that she had purchased. Some of the things she modeled for him, parading everything around the living room. “Here, baby, these things are for you.” She sat patiently as he opened up the bag and examined the things she had gotten him, waiting for his approval.

  By the time she pulled the last thing out of the bag, he had a blank look on his face as if he was waiting for either more or the punch line. “What, baby?”

  “How much you spend?” he blurted out, cutting straight to the chase.

  Shelly’s smile quickly went to a frown. “Umm.” It was obvious she made it seem like she was trying to calculate the cost before speaking, but Big Jack knew better. See, he was a real G, in so many aspects of the word, and he had been around the block a few times. He knew that she was trying to run the pros and cons in her mind, as if she was trying to decide whether or not she was going to tell him the truth. So he nipped that in the bud.

  “Look, baby. I ain’t tripping on no got-damn money. Straight up! Never have. Never will. Believe that,” he said, looking in her eyes. “Money don’t mean shit to me. It comes and it goes. But the beauty of it is that I make money all day, every day. Hell, I makes that shit when I’m asleep.”

  The look of relief took over Shelly’s face and out came a sigh. “I spent like six grand, I think.”

  “And this is everything you got?” he questioned. “No more bags in the car?”

  “Yeah, and I did good! Caught some real sweetheart deals.” Shelly was getting her confidence and excitement back up about her day of shopping. “Baby, this is over fifteen grand worth of shit. The malls had some killer sales,” she said, boasting of the bargains she got. “And one thing about me, I do know how to bargain shop and get rock-bottom prices on certain things.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” he said, glaring down on her with a strong look of disbelief.

  “What’s wrong, baby?” she asked, putting her arms around him. She could see his dissatisfaction with her written all over his face, but she didn’t have the foggiest idea as to why.

  He didn’t embrace her back. Instead he walked away and focused his attention on what he was doing.

  “Baby,” she cried out, “talk to me.”

  He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her like she stank.

  “Papi”—she went closer to him—“baabbbby,” she said in a whiney voice. “Please talk to me.”

  He shook his head and she still looked dumbfounded. Then he spoke. “I’m trying to understand how the fuck you go to the mall and tear it down, spending money on top of money, and not as much as bring back either one of your kids a pair of fucking socks.” He gave her a look of disgust. “Shit’s ridiculous.” He shook his head and added, “Real fucking ridiculous.”

  He might as well have stabbed her with a butcher knife or a spear because he cut into her. “Just fucking despicable.” The emphasis he put on those words might as well have been some hollow-point bullets.

  Now, if anybody else would have said that to her, she wouldn’t have given two shits. But the fact that it came from Big Jack, the words tore through her heart. “You a poor excuse for somebody’s momma. You some shit,” he calmly and bluntly said to her.

  Tears were in her eyes. The truth did hurt, and those words were sad but oh so true. She wasn’t hurt the least from the actual truth about her mothering skills. Before she could respond, he said, “I knew you had your issues when I first met you, but I still fucked with you. Everybody got their flaws. I just … I ain’t have no idea that you were that fucked up.”

  Wow! That really hurt her to the core of her heart. She was embarrassed that he knew her secret and he called her out on it. She tried to kiss on him. “Baby, don’t say that,” she said, and tried to rub on his penis.

  He grabbed her hand and forcefully removed it from his manhood. “Get the fuck off of me,” he said coldly, and then shot her a look that said he meant it. “This the wrong time for you to be rubbing on my dick. Don’t you know that shit results in making babies? And if you was the last bitch left on this planet, I wouldn’t procreate with you under no circumstances.”

  Shelly stood there for a minute, looking at him, searching for the right words to say. But before she could find them, he stabbed her again with the words, “Get the fuck from around me.” The words cut through her like a knife The tears began to swell up in her eyes and she did as she was told, but not before informing him, “I just want you to know that you really hurt my feelings.” She tried to stand up for herself.

  “Well, the truth … that shit hurt, don’t it?” He questioned, with no remorse that he had hurt her with his accusations. “And furthermore, don’t ask me what the fuck is wrong if you don’t want the real got-damn answer. I ain’t sugarcoating shit with you, man. The fact remains that you a selfish bitch with no motherly instinct or regard for your own damn children. That shit is a major flaw.”

  “You don’t even like kids,” she said.

  “Yeah, that’s ’bout right. But they didn’t ask to be here either. And when you irresponsible, fucking with random clown-ass niggas raw dog, no protection, when you take that risk, the probability is that you can get kids from it. That’s exactly why I make sure I keep plenty of Magnums around, ’cause I know I’m not trying to have no babies, with you or any other unworthy bitch.”

  Oh, that hurt. So badly she wanted to fire back. Not only did she know better, but also, after the way he had just gunned her down, she didn’t really have any ammunition or firing power left in her. Before getting into a verbal war, which she was sure would lead to a physical one, she decided that she would make him regret those words, and she stormed out of the house. With one foot out the door, she yelled back in, “Glad I know how you feel, and you know what, we going to see what you be saying when you want some of this good pussy though.” His first thought was to get up and go after her, drag her good-for-nothing ass back in the house and choke the life out of her. But instead he went to the door and shouted out, “Bitch, you gonna have to get on your knees and beg for this good dick, before I bless you with it.” He grabbed his manhood when he noticed one of the neighbors looking.

  She screamed back, from the end of the sidewalk, “You gonna miss me. You need me. And I bet you be calling me in only a matter of time.” She was walking away from the house still talking smack. Shelly knew better, to do it from a distance and not in his face, because one thing about Big Jack, he didn’t have a problem, none whatsoever, using his pimp hand to beat a woman, or a man for that matter, down for disrespecting him on any level.

  He laughed, like that was the funniest joke he’d heard in a long time. “Yeah, I need you like I need a hole in my head.”

  He had enough of indulging in her shenanigans of the deadbeat mother. As soon as she slammed the door, he called out, “Callieeeeee.” Big Jack never called her Calliope. He always messed up her name. She was sure that he couldn’t spell it or pronounce it quite the right way, but to let him tell it, it sounded like a white girl’s name. And it just made more sense to him that instead of constantly butchering her name he’d call her Cali, and not to mention it reminded him of California with her brother being named Compton.

  She came out of the room. “Yes, sir,” she sa
id. He never really talked to her, and if he did it was only because he wanted her to bring something to him or go get something for him.

  “Look, baby.” He went in his pocket and peeled off six one hundred dollar bills. “In the morning, I want you to go and get you and yo brother some sneakers.”

  “I will,” she said, taking the money out of his hand. “Thank you so much.” She humbly smiled. She was sure that Big Jack thought it was for him, looking past Big Jack and at her brother who was peeking around the corner with a small steak knife in his hand. He was just as curious as to what Big Jack wanted with his sister and was using his own advice against him.

  Big Jack shook his head. “I don’t know why y’all’s momma do y’alls like that dere. Shit don’t make no sense at all.”

  Calliope agreed but didn’t say anything, only tucked the cash in the back pocket of her jeans. She just stood there, wanting to take the money from his hand and retreat back to the bedroom. But she didn’t want to be rude, so she listened to him vent. “Enough about y’alls no-good ass momma,” he said, then went back in his pocket and peeled off a fifty-dollar bill. “Go on ahead and get on dat dere phone and order you and yo brother a pizza or some Chinese food or something.”

  Calliope didn’t waste any time ordering the food. “Compton,” she called out to her brother, “what you want on your pizza?” The two of them loved pizza, and it was a luxury for them to order it.

  He leaned in and whispered to his sister, “Don’t we have a lot of money?”

  Big Jack heard. “Compton, man, order anything you want.”

  He smiled. “I want stuffed crust pizza. I want everything on it.”

  “But you not going to eat everything,” Calliope warned her brother.

  “Yes I is,” Compton said.

  “Okay, but watch, you going to get it and not want it. I’m telling you what I know.”

  Compton thought for a minute, because he knew his sister was usually right. “Okay, well, I want meat and cheese with pineapples and mushrooms.”

  Calliope raised her eyebrows. “No mushrooms, okay?” she advised Compton.

  “Okay,” he agreed. “I want breadsticks and chicken wings too.”

  She nodded, as she was on hold waiting to place the order.

  “And I want soda.” He pushed the envelope even more.

  She smiled. Her brother was happy that they could get whatever they wanted. Once the pizza arrived, they sat at the kitchen table and ate every bite like it was the last supper. Compton was all smiles. It felt good that they were finally getting to live high off the hog. And they liked how it felt.

  Once the two were done eating, they went back into their room and Big Jack went back to business as usual.

  “Maybe Big Jack isn’t so bad after all,” Calliope said.

  “But you said, trust no one.” Compton looked at his sister with a raised eyebrow. Even at the ripe age of ten, he seemed to be wise beyond his years, and especially since Big Jack moved in, he seemed to have matured a couple of years in only three months.

  “We still don’t trust him or let our guard down, but at the same time, he looks out for us better than Momma.”

  “I know, and he cooks and makes sure we eat better than Momma ever did.”

  “You do have a point there, but that’s all you really care about is your stomach anyway,” she joked.

  Compton smiled, knowing that he couldn’t argue with that.

  “Sister, I’m going to make a lot of money one day so we can always eat what we want to eat and so that you can buy whatever pretty dresses you want.”

  “Aw, you so sweet. I know we both going to take care of each other, that’s all that matters.”

  “Yup.” Compton nodded. “We going to have our own big money and when we do we ain’t going to buy Momma nothing.”

  Calliope smiled and agreed.

  “Maybe we will help Big Jack ’cause he do look out for us,” Compton said. “We can repay the favor.”

  “He probably won’t be around that long. He probably gonna pack up and leave Momma,” Calliope said, thinking of the consequences of the tantrum that Shelly had thrown on Big Jack. “If he do cut her off”—Calliope shook her head—“she gonna be worse than what she was before he came.”

  “I hope he don’t, but he doing his business here, so he not going to close that down, he make too much money,” Compton said, thinking about the money that he witnessed pass from hand to hand.

  “You are so right, little brother. I hope so anyway,” she said, commending her brother on such a smart call. Then there was an awkward silence between the two of them and she spoke again. “I was so happy when he took up for us, though.”

  “I was happier than a fat kid with cake when he made Momma cry,” Compton said.

  Without hesitation, Calliope said, “Me too!” and started to laugh, which prompted her brother to roll into laughter. They gave each other five and then began making their own entertainment. The two started their own theatrics, mocking their mother as Big Jack made her cry. Compton was Big Jack and Calliope was Shelly. The two were rolling in laughter, and they hadn’t had a good laugh like this one in a long time. The two were so loud that Big Jack came to the room door. He tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. He hated when that happened. “Why the hell y’all always locking the doors around here? Y’all in there doing something y’all ain’t got no business…” Before he could continue, Compton unlocked and opened up the door. Once the door came cracked, the laughter ceased. “What the hell is so funny in here?”

  Trying their absolute hardest to stand up straight and still like statues, the two could barely keep their composure. “Nothing,” they said in unison.

  He searched their faces. “Come on now, share the joke. Between trying to keep food on the table and dealing with y’all crazy-ass momma, I could use a got-damn laugh.”

  As soon as Big Jack made mention of Shelly, the two lost their cool and started laughing. Big Jack shook his head. “A’ight now, y’all don’t wanna share but I’m glad y’all laughing, for real though,” he said as he walked back out the room. “And stop locking the doors and shit. I don’t know if you think somebody going to do something to y’all or something. But on everything I love, ain’t nobody going to fuck with y’all.”

  They heard him and appreciated it, but those words from him went in one ear and out the other. They knew they still needed to look after each other over all things.

  After the kids finally stopped their jokes, they decided to settle down and watch some television. “You hear that?” Compton said.

  “What?” she asked her brother, knowing that sometimes he was paranoid but he had great intuition.

  “Like somebody outside our window.” That was the thing about Compton, he observed everything. He used to be timid from all the screaming and threatening that Shelly had done over the years, but it had become paranoia. Calliope didn’t take any of it lightly because she knew exactly how aware of his surroundings he was.

  She peeked outside the window but couldn’t see anything. “Boy, you paranoid. The boogeyman ain’t going to come and mess with us. And if he do, we will double bank him,” she sarcastically said to him.

  “No, I hear it again.” Compton was as serious as he could be.

  She paused for a second, grabbed the remote, turned down the television, but didn’t hear anything but the muffled music that Big Jack was playing while he was working the stove, cooking cocaine as usual.

  The minute Calliope got back comfortable and was ready to tune in to her show, all hell broke loose.

  Bam! A loud noise came from the front room, scaring the daylights out of both Calliope and Compton. Something or someone had penetrated the front door. Then came another loud sound. Bammmmm! By now Calliope had grabbed Compton to pull him close to her so hard she almost pulled his arm off. She didn’t know what the hell was going on, but whatever it was, it wasn’t nice. They took cover in the closet.

  * * *


  Meanwhile in the front part of the house, Big Jack, an OG who had been in the dope game for a real long time and was a vet to the streets, knew exactly what time it was. He was more than positive it was the stick-up boys and they were coming for him. But Big Jack, who was as fearless as they come, wasn’t tripping at all because he knew just how to handle that. Anybody who knew Big Jack should’ve known one thing about him: that he was prepared at all times for any kind of ambush and wouldn’t be caught slipping. Big Jack always kept a fully loaded Super 90 semi-automatic shotgun by the kitchen door in preparation for such occasions as these. He completely understood the nature of the game and the mentality of the non-money-getting dudes: if you’re unable to make it, take it … or die trying.

  And make no mistake about it; he was willing to do just that. “Motherfuckers, I’m not new to the game. I’m true to this, you motherfuckers!” he screamed, taking position fully ready for combat.

  Before the wooden door was completely ajar with plenty of heart and gusto, Big Jack had charged into the living room, banging the shotgun at the unforeseen targets.

  Boom! Boom! Boom! He blasted whoever he felt was coming for him.

  “Mafuckas, you wanna rob me?” Then he shelled out another. Boom! Boom! Boom! The sound was so loud that the shattering of the glass tables and picture frames was camouflaged.

  It was a true adrenaline rush for Big Jack. After each shot, another double R buckshot was slammed into the firing chamber. He went all out to protect what was his. Whoever was on the other side was getting a first-class ticket to hell.

  This went on for about a minute and a half. Then the tables turned. Hell would always make its own reservations. As he went to take cover behind the sofa, bullets buzzed back at Big Jack like a swarm of killer bees, riddling his body in a matter of seconds, dropping him to the ground, making him almost beyond recognition.