by Lucinda John
“Tonight is actually my twenty-first birthday,” I beamed, pouring two shots of Hennessy. I gulped one down before handing him one.
“Damn, that’s right. I forgot your ass is a kid.” Taking the shot to the head, Dre smirked at me.
“Nah, baby. I’m a grown woman now.” I winked.
“I see that.” He whistled. “Them pounds you put on did your body well… damn!”
My once slim frame was now thick and curvy, thanks to the forty pounds I gained on birth control.
“Like milk, baby,” I joked. “You don’t look too bad yourself.” I acknowledge how amazing he looked.
Dre looked like he hadn’t aged at all. He basically looked the same with the exception of the bald head and full beard he now sported. The fifty pounds that he gained over the years had turned into pure muscle. The fitted Gucci shirt he wore lay against his broad shoulders with perfection, displaying his huge arms.
“Close your mouth before I put something in it.” Dre chuckled, snapping me back to reality.
“Stop playing.” I playfully pushed him. “I got a man.”
“Oh, that’s right. You fucking with that lil’ nigga Miami now. I heard he the one who got next.” Dre nodded. “Lil’ nigga doing his thing.”
“Yup, that’s my baby.” Gripping the chain that hung around my neck, I ran my fingers across the gold pendant that had Miami written in cute, cursive lettering and smiled. I was really in love with the kid; Miami was truly my everything.
“You trying to kick it with us?” I asked Dre.
“Nah, my peoples got a lil section for me to celebrate me coming home.” Opening his arms, Dre pulled me in for a hug. I could feel his breath tickling my flesh as he inhaled my perfume. His hands then traveled down my exposed back before cuffing my ass.
“Damn, that thang got so fat, and it’s soft as fuck.” He groaned against my ear.
I was frozen in place as he felt on my ass. Part of me wanted to push him off, but the hoe in me wanted him to keep feeling on my booty.
“Happy birthday again, ma.” After kissing me on the cheek, Dre pulled himself away from me before walking off.
“Girl, who the fuck was that fine ass nigga?” Nookie asked.
“Somebody from the hood. He just jumped.” Taking a seat on the plush couch, I poured myself another drink before chugging it down.
“Well, that nigga from the hood got your ass hot and bothered.” She side eyed me.
“Who, Dre? Nah, it ain’t even like that,” I lied.
“Girl, bye.” Deja waved me off. “You should have gotten a piece of that dick. Shit, our niggas probably over there in Jacksonville getting their dick sucked as we speak.
Deja and South were known for the game of ‘tit for tat’ they like to play. If Deja found out South was cheating on her, in return, she would fuck another nigga. In retaliation, South would find him a bitch to fuck on. Shit would go on and on. I didn’t even think there was a time in their relationship when they were actually faithful to each other. At this point, I wasn’t sure why they even stayed together.
“Just because your nigga cheats doesn’t mean mine does,” I spat.
“How the fuck would you know? You ain’t with that nigga all the time.” Deja sucked her teeth.
“I trust my nigga, bitch, and that’s all that matters. Bitches stay at your front door, calling your phone, sending you pictures of South laid up in their bed… Not nan bitch did that shit to me! What me and Miami have is too deep for you to comprehend. No bitch out here knows my nigga better than I do,” I slurred, beating on my chest.
Had I been sober, I would have laughed at Deja’s silly remarks. I didn’t have to defend Miami’s actions. What’s understood didn’t need to be explained.
“Come on, girls. We came out here to have some fun. Fuck all the bullshit. Let’s drink these bottles and shake our asses,” Nookie added.
“Long as that bitch know.” Shooting Deja a warning glare, I reached for my cup and began to sip my mixed drink.
“Bitch! Hurry the fuck up. I gotta pee so damn bad,” Nookie whined as she bounced around like a toddler.
“I can’t find the damn key.” I chuckled while I fished through my purse.
“Give me this shit.” Snatching my purse from my hand, Nookie dumped all the contents on the floor.
Like two fools, we were on our hands and knees, rummaging through all the miscellaneous items that were scattered on the floor until we located my house keys.
“I don’t understand why you carry all this shit around anyway,” Nookie fussed.
Using the wall for support, she stood to her feet and made her way over to my door.
“Leave my shit alone.” Tossing my items back into my purse, I crawled into the house. “I feel so damn sick.” I groaned with my back against the door.
“Nobody told your ass to down all them fucking shots. A hoe turns twenty-one and acts like she ain’t never guzzle a bottle of Henny,” Nookie joked.
“Girl, this was my first time being able to buy a bottle in the club, so you know I had to show the fuck out!” Kicking my heels off, I pushed the pink and gold throw pillows off the navy-blue couch before plopping down.
“This shit is cute!” Nookie noted, inspecting my new living room set.
The brand new, two-piece, navy blue couch set was something a fiend gave to Miami in exchange for drugs. Hell, half the shit we owned came from powder heads.
“Thank you. My baby got it for me.” I beamed.
“I can’t believe Deja hoe ass is really about to fuck that security guard. That motherfucker looks like Debo from the movie Friday .” Nookie shook her head in disgust.
“Girl, Deja will fuck anything with a dick.” I wasn’t the least bit surprised about Deja’s hoeish ways.
“I bet her and South just over there playing ping pong with STDs, just passing that shit back and forth to each other.”
“Shit, if they like it, I love it.” Unfolding the pink throw blanket that rested against the back of the couch, I covered my body and closed my eyes. Despite all her flaws, I considered Deja my bitch. I was not about to talk shit about her ass while she wasn’t around to defend herself.
“Lock the door behind you after you leave,” I mumbled before drifting off into a drunken slumber.
“ N igga, we all in.” South jumped up and down in excitement. We had finally made it back in town from our trip to Jacksonville.
“Time to make shit shake, my boy.” Gripping the steering wheel with my left hand, I inhaled from the blunt I was puffing on with my right hand before passing it to South.
“We about to be eating big boy meals now.” South was geeked the fuck up as he took a hit of the blunt. I was equally as excited about our score, but I decided to hold it all in.
“You heading to the crib?” Looking over at South, I waited for his response.
“Nah, drop me off at the McDonald’s on fifty-sixth. I’m about to head to that bitch Nigeria’s house. I’m in a good mood, and I ain’t trying to have Deja fuck that shit up.”
“Nigga, I don’t get you.” I shook my head.
“Wassup, fam?” South looked over at me as if the shit that came out of his mouth was normal.
“If ol’ girl makes you so fucking miserable, why you still with her?” I inquired.
South never had anything positive to say about Deja. Shit, I never understood why he would proudly lay up with her ass if she was an eater like he claimed.
“Deja is a rider, the type of bitch that’ll take a charge for a nigga. When I come up, I’m coming up with her. I’ll never leave my bitch for these gold-digging ass hoes.”
“Yeah, alright.” Pulling out my phone, I powered it back on and was immediately flooded with notifications. When it came time for me to handle business, I limited all distractions, even my Hennessy.
Pulling into the McDonald’s, I posted up until South called up his jump-off and let her know he was on the way.
“Imma get up with you later
, my G.” South dapped me up.
“Alright, my G.”
Once South was out of the car, I pulled into the drive-thru. My stomach leaped at the aroma of the food that filled the air. It had been hours since I had my last meal. The way my mouth watered at the thought of sinking my teeth into a steak, egg, and cheese bagel had me anticipating my order.
“Order when you’re ready!” The ghetto chick smacked her lips through the speaker.
“Let me get a steak bagel with a bottle of water.” Pulling around, I didn’t wait for my total. I knew it all too well. Pulling out the exact change, I handed it to the rude bitch before driving up for my food.
“Hey! Steak bagel, right?” the chick at the second window asked.
“Ain’t that what I ordered?” I snapped.
“Dang, I was just confirming. You ain’t have to be rude.”
“Tell that shit to the broad y’all got back there on the mic taking the order.” Grabbing my food, I pulled off.
Smashing on my steak bagel, I headed to Jazzy’s house to return her car. Even though it was seven in the morning, the sun was shining, and the block boys were hugging the corners. In the hood, the early bird got the worm first. There was no time for sleep in the game of hustling. Every nigga on the block had a purpose; whether they had bills to pay, kids to feed, or hoes to please, every motherfucker posted up had an agenda of getting some money.
Checking over my shoulder, I pulled out the duffle bag that sat in the back of Jazzy’s trunk and carried it in the house with me. Although I paid the rent for the house that she got through Section 8, I still respected her privacy.
“Hey baby, wassup?” Jazzy smiled the moment she opened the door. “I don’t know why you just don’t use that key.” Blowing out a cloud of smoke from the cigarette that sat between her lips, she stepped to the side, allowing me to come in.
“I got some more work for you.” Smiling, I dropped the duffle bag on her couch.
“You got it!” she squealed.
“You already know.” I nodded.
It took a minute for me to come up with enough money to cop some major weight from this nigga named Capo. His dope was the best in Florida. Capo only fucked with a few niggas, so when Jazzy’s son, who got knocked on a drug charge, vouched for me, I knew I had to come correct. Especially since he wasn’t fronting me shit on consignment. Day in and out, South and I bled the block. When I wasn’t slanging dope, I was washing cars, missing out on time with Hennessy just to get my money up.
“You the only nigga in our hood with Capo’s dope. It’s only a matter of time before you take over. I know you hate fucking with people, but it’s time you assemble a team. If you start eating with niggas, they won’t try to come for you,” Jazzy lectured.
“I hear you,” I replied and took a seat on her charcoal colored sectional.
“You ate, baby? I got some breakfast in the kitchen.”
“Nah, I’m good.” I waved her off.
Reaching in my pocket, I pulled out one thousand dollars and handed it to her. In return for plugging me in, Jazzy’s son made me give him my word that I would look out for his moms. For the last year, I had been living by that word. Little did they both know, Jazzy had become that mother figure to me.
Not only did she cook and stash my dope, but she also made sure I was good. Whenever I needed direction, she was there to direct me. Jazzy was an OG on the block. Back in the day, she cooked dope for most of the hood, so she knew a lot when it came to this street shit.
“Bills paid, what you giving this to me for?” Jazzy questioned as she gazed down at the money.
“Thanks for looking out.”
“You make sure me and my boy are good. You do more than enough.”
“Take the money, Jazzy.” Placing the money between the magazines that sat on her coffee table, I stood to my feet.
“Be careful out there.” Pulling me in for a hug, she embraced me like a mother would her son. After all that bullshit that went down between Kelly and me, it took me a minute to trust another older woman. When I realized Jazzy wasn’t on that shit, I started to loosen up around her.
“I already know.” Using the side door that gave me access to the garage, I checked on my van that I used to wash cars.
After pushing the dope that I stole from Kenny a few years back, I used some of the money to purchase a white van, and the rest to re-up. Once I was done flipping my money a few times, I was able to start up Miami’s Best Car Wash. Using my drug money, I secured a spot at a gas station where a lot of dope heads frequented. While I legally made money washing cars, I served the fiends on the low. Growing up watching the dope boys, I was able to self-educate using their mistakes. The nights I spent in the park were used to strategize on ways I would succeed in the drug game—if I were to enter it.
Checking through my inventory list, I made a note of everything I needed before locking my van and making my way the 2011 Nissan Altima that Hennessy and I shared. The car wasn’t as lavish as the ones the other dope boys drove around in, but it was in perfect condition, and we owned it. I wasn’t a flashy nigga; nothing I did was for show. I was trying to build an empire by using this fast money to eventually turn it into a slew of legal businesses that would have me set for life.
At twenty-one, my mindset was different from a lot of other niggas. While they were out popping bottles, decked out in expensive gear, and rocking big chains, I kept shit simple. I hustled then went home.
Easing out of Jazzy’s driveway, I cruised down the block with one hand on the steering wheel, and my seat all the way back. The same way these dope boys were out, these hoes were out as well. They too had to hustle their next come up as they sauntered around in skimpy shorts and tight tops. Most niggas flashed their money around just to fuck, but they were a few dumb ones who would get caught slipping by impregnating one of these hoes.
Turning into the condos where we lived, I nodded at the security guard before swiping my key card and waiting for the cast iron gates to open.
Even though we were still in the heart of the hood, the condos we resided in was a community of its own. Protected by gates and security guards, the only way you could access the condos was if you were a resident with a key card or if someone buzzed you in. The clean sidewalks, manicured grass, and garbage service were a come up from the run-down, roach-infested apartments I previously stayed in.
Parking in my designated parking spot, I entered the lobby where soft music from the 90’s played while I waited for the elevator. Unlike most elevators that I’ve been in, this one didn’t smell like pee. In fact, the property owner made sure the cleaning service cleaned the elevator daily.
DING!
Looking up, I made sure I was on the third floor before stepping off the elevator. Taking long strides to the door, I made sure I had Hennessy’s birthday present in my pocket. Since I missed her birthday, I splurged on a diamond tennis bracelet and the matching earrings from Tiffany & Co. The jewelry set me back a bit, but I wasn’t worried. A few nights on the block, and I would make all that back and then some.
“What the fuck?” A strong odor smacked me in the face the moment I entered the apartment.
This shit wasn’t like Hennessy. She always kept our spot looking and smelling good at all times. Stepping over her shoes, I almost slipped on the pool of vomit that was in the center of the room next to her bag.
“Hennessy!” Making my way down the hallway, I spotted a body covered up on the couch.
Peeling the blanket off her, I took in the scandalous outfit she wore. An outfit I told her ass not to buy. Hennessy’s breasts spilled out of the bralette, and her ass hung from the bottom of the shorts. Against her now thick frame, it looked as if she was wearing a bra and boy shorts. After an abortion and two pregnancy scares, Hennessy got on birth control. Since then, she’d gained weight, all of which I appreciated.
Far from an insecure ass nigga, I was the type to let my bitch do her as long as she respected herself. There were t
imes Hennessy would go out with her friends dressed in a fitted ass dress that her ass would poke out in, and I would take pride in my girl; however, that shit she had on looked trashy as fuck.
“Get your ass up, man!” I shouted, smacking her hard on the ass.
When she didn’t move, I smacked her other booty cheek until she began to stir out of her sleep.
“Why you hitting me?” She groaned, peering up at me.
“Yo, you for real right now?”
“What did I do?” She asked in a childlike voice.
“Nigga, you don’t see what the fuck you got on? I told your ass not to buy that shit, and you went behind my back on some sneaky shit and got it anyway. Then I come home, and I’m greeted by a puddle of fucking throw up!” I snapped.
“My head hurts so bad,” she whined, disregarding everything I said.
“I don’t have time for this shit, man.”
I had plans to kick it with my ol’ lady for the day since I missed her birthday, but that shit was a dud. Making my way to the bathroom, I decided to re-energize with a hot shower before jumping on the block.
The massive, king-sized bed that occupied the center of our bedroom was neatly made with oversized pillows stacked on it, letting me know that Hennessy hadn’t slept in it. Entering the walk-in closet, I searched for something to wear for the day. Pulling out a pair of wolf grey, navy blue, and white Nike joggers, along with a navy blue shirt with Nike written in white, I placed it on the bed before stripping out of my clothes and placing them in the hamper.
Like Hennessy, I had put on a few pounds as well. Although I still tall as fuck, I was no longer that tall, lanky nigga. Never missing a meal, I ate until I was a solid one hundred and eighty pounds. I hadn’t aged at all in the face; I still had that pretty boy look going on. Motherfuckers still compared me to King Combs in the face since I had more weight on me than that nigga. I was between Hennessy’s legs on a daily basis, eating pussy like a motherfucker, yet the only thing I had to show for it was a goatee that I kept touched up whenever I went to the barber for a haircut.