by Lala Wilder
Finally, just as the sun begins dipping behind the trees, a dude shows up carrying a duffel bag. He comes closer, and that’s when I realize—
“Gunner?!”
My ex, Gunner, looks at me like he sees a ghost and starts to backtrack.
But fuck that, I still have pending charges because of that nut shit this nigga did leaving me to take the rap for a dirty check. “Nah, Gunner, you owe me,” I tell him with big attitude.
Gunner stops and rubs the back of his neck. “Come on Rave. That shit was an accident.”
“Accident my ass. You left me to fend for myself.” I spit my gum out into the gutter. “Where the hell you been?”
Gunner stares off, looking everywhere except in my face. “Look man, handling my business just like every other nigga in these streets.”
“Yeah, except I was snatched off the streets because of your scams and shit.”
I glare at Queen. “So how you two know each other?” I ask sharply. I turn to Gunner. “You fed her the same lies you told me?”
Queen chuckles. “Do I look like I’m into niggas to you?”
Her cornrows braided straight back, and stone-faced gangster grill tells me she likes everything except a hard dick.
“Nah, I was just saying—”
Queen gets up from the bench. “Can we get down to business? It’s a little too cold to be standing around rehashing y’alls past drama and shit.”
Gunner nods. “True—true.” He reaches for his duffel.
Gunner sets his duffel bag on the bus stop bench and unzips it. “So, what y’all need?” he asks.
“Driver’s licenses, passports,” Queen says. “Everything we need to be completely brand new.”
Gunner hooks us up, providing us with all the ID shit we need to start brand new lives. Queen becomes Melissa Shaw. I keep my first name. I become Raven Black. But I still want what’s coming to me. “You owe me, Gunner. A few ends, something.”
Gunner zips his bag up, digs for his wallet and peels off a few bills. Handing them to me, he goes, “You good?”
“This will do for now,” I tell him, counting out a measly $400. “But what about if we get short again?”
Gunner blows out a breath. “Look Rave. I’m not doing as well as when we—”
“Gunner, you owe me.”
Gunner looks into my eyes and his hard exterior softens. He blows another breath and looks off down the street. Then he reaches into his bag and tosses me a burner phone. “Look, I fucked up when I left you at that bank,” he says. “But I’m going to make it up to you.” He takes back the phone and punches his number into the contacts. “Here’s my new cell number. Call me if you need something. I’ll see what I can do.” Then he bounces.
**
I don’t need to reach out to Gunner. He starts calling me every day, checking on Queen and me while we’re out here, scraping together just enough money to eat and lay our heads in a cheap motel for the night.
“You have to come up with a solid plan to get back on your feet,” Gunner tells me, on one of his check-in calls. “Them motels are no joke,” he says. “You could get robbed, raped—or worse.”
I tuck my last twenty-dollar bill into my bra. “Tell me about it.”
While I wait for Queen to get us all checked out of our latest motel, Gunner breathes heavy into the phone like he’s thinking shit over. Finally, he says, “Look. I’m coming to get y’all.”
Now, that gets my hopes up a little. Maybe, once I’m able to rest my head on some clean sheets, without worrying about making it through the night, I’ll finally be able to make some progress.
But when Gunner finally shows up to pick us up on the curb outside the Motel 8, he doesn’t hit the highway toward Virginia where we used to share an apartment. Instead he drops us off in front of a gray building that looks like an old forgotten elementary school.
“Where the hell is this?” I ask him.
Gunner puts his truck in park and hits the unlock button. “What you think it is? It’s a shelter—”
“—A homeless shelter?”
Gunner glares at me. “Your ass have a home?”
I hit the locks on the dash. “Why can’t we stay with you for a little bit? Until we can scrape up enough money for a place or something?”
Gunner looks down and starts tapping on his steering wheel, all nervous-like. “Oh nah. I can’t—umm—”
I give this nigga the stuck face. “Oh, you have somebody, huh?”
Gunner’s eyes stay on that damn steering wheel. “Something like that.”
I hit the unlock button and open the passenger side door. “Come on, Queen.” I step onto the sidewalk. Right before I slam the door shut, Gunner looks at me with this guilty expression on his face. “Look, just give me a little bit of time to get rid of her. I’ll come back to get you. I promise.” He nods over at Queen. “Even your friend can stay with me for a while—once I take care of shorty.”
“Whatever Gunner.” I shake my head at him, look at the shelter I have no choice but to call home until who knows when, and decide I need to get one last word in. “Tell that bitch to watch her back going into banks with your ass.”
Bam.
I slam the door closed.
Chapter Nine
NATALEE
Vex and I are curled up in his bed, under the covers. I’m staring at him while he sleeps, wondering how I got so lucky to find a man with such class, such power, and most importantly, all this fucking money.
Damn. How did I stay with Troy’s nickel and diming ass when I had the Kingpin right under my nose the entire time?
Vex shifts around under the covers. His eyes flutter open. He catches me staring and smiles up at me. “I love you, baby,” he says softly. He tilts his chin up to kiss my lips.
I know I was pissed in the past about him not letting me move in. But the love I feel for him is too real. I can’t seem to shake this feeling that we’re destined to be together forever.
As soon as I lean down to return his sweet kiss, a lock clicks downstairs. Vex’s relaxed smile turns to panic. “Oh, shit,” he whispers. He pushes me out the bed and onto the floor. He points toward the walk-in closet. “Quick, Nat. Get in there,” he whispers.
“What are you doing?”
“Get the fuck in the closet.”
The door swings open downstairs and a woman’s voice floats up, “Drexel, baby. I’m home early.”
From the crack in the closet door, I watch the man I’m falling for run out the room like a well- trained puppy and singing, “Babe, I’ve missed you so much.”
Babe?
**
Hours pass. I’m still sitting in this closet, a nervous wreck. Vex tried everything to get that old bitch to stay out of the bedroom, but she eventually floated her skinny ass in here and started removing her earrings, Cavalli wrap dress and dusty wig from that pin head of hers.
“Babe, I’m so tired. These business trips are becoming downright exhausting.” She eases her bony body into my side of the bed and lays her head on the pillow.
“Drexel? Has that raunchy cousin of yours, Felicia, stayed the night again? My pillow smells like cheap hair product.”
Vex comes around to her side of the bed and leans in for a kiss like he’s forgotten all about me collecting dust in his closet. “Oh babe, you know I always let her take the master bedroom and I take the guestroom when she comes. She’s my favorite cousin’s daughter.”
“But Drexel, she always stinks up our good linens. You know how my allergies are.”
Vex kisses the bitch on her lips again and goes, “I’m sorry babe. Ugh, now that you mention it, I can smell it too. Practically burns my nose.” They laugh together like two members of a fucking country club, while his wingtip dress shoes stab me in the ass. “Would you like for me to toss these out and get you a fresh set, babe.”
“No babe, I’m so tired, I’ll manage.”
Hours pass before this annoying bitch finally starts snoring. As
soon as she does, Vex opens the closet door and practically drags me from the closet. He reaches under the bed and tosses my clothes into the hall like bits of garbage.
“Hurry up and put your shit on,” he hisses. “We got to get the fuck out of here.”
**
I stomp to the car, with the buttons on my Kate Spade button up all mismatched and shit. I slam the passenger side door closed on his Bentley and fold my arms up like a spoiled toddler. “You’re married?! Really?” I can’t help the shit. I start crying from the embarrassment of hiding in a niggas closet while he catered to some bitch that can’t compare to me in any kind of way.
“Really Vex? This is how you do me?”
I feel like a fool for falling for my boss, when really, he should’ve been a simple pawn in my master plan.
Fuck.
The rest of the ride to PlayBar, I ponder my next move. I should never speak to this lying ass motherfucker again, simply off principle.
But then Spyce won’t get what’s coming to her.
So, I let the nigga stroke my hair like I’m a fucking cat and shove all sorts of dumb lies down my throat like, She has cancer and she only has six months to live and I couldn’t leave her out on the streets.
I tuck away my hurt feelings and treat this nigga like one of my clients at the club.
“Okay, Vex, I believe you,” I say with the fakest smile ever. “But you’re going to make this shit up to me. I want the biggest apology gift ever.”
Vex smiles and spins the steering wheel onto the next street. “We’ll see,” he says, like he knows he has me gone in the head.
Ugh. What a bitch ass nigga.
**
I’m in a shitty mood when I hit the floor.
“What’s going on babe?” Tomi asks me. She sits her clients down at a table, takes their order and follows me to the bottle room.
“It’s Vex isn’t it?” She grabs a bottle of Grey Goose from the shelf. “What I don’t get is, if you’re not happy, why don’t you stop this thing you guys have going on?”
I grab two bottles of Ace of Spades and a lighter for the sparklers. “Because I need him?”
Tomi stops pushing her drink cart. “Look bish. Don’t make me throw up with that needy bullshit—”
“No, not like that.” I light the sparklers and carry a lit bottle in each hand. “I have something going on and I need a fall guy.”
Tomi throws her bottles at her clients and yanks me out of my section as soon as I blow the sparklers out for mine. “Tell me everything,” she demands.
And because I’m tired of going through this whole thing alone and I feel like I can trust her, I don’t leave anything out.
When I’m done, Tomi frowns her face up immediately. “So, I just have one question,” she says.
“Yeah?”
“You’ve been seeing me crying over not being able to put money on Kings books for months and you didn’t think to bring me in on this hustle?” She gives me a stank look.
“I mean—”
Tomi walks over to the white boys in her section. She sits on some blonde dude’s lap. “Who’s trying to get fucked up tonight?” she asks.
They shrug real nonchalant-like. “I mean, I guess—” one of the dudes says.
Tomi pops up into a standing position, grabs her whip, cracks it loud and goes, “The last one to swallow one of these Xans is getting a Tomi-ass whipping tonight!”
She cracks her whip again, beckons me over with her finger and unzips the gold bag on my thigh. “Now, like I said, who’s trying to get fucked up tonight?”
The dudes fall all over each other trying to be the first to throw cash our way.
**
When the night is over, Tomi and I tuck our side cash into our secret spots and turn in Vex’s cut to him in his office. I’m so busy acting like I’m not bothered in the least when I hand him his money that I barely hear Tomi offer to keep me company tonight.
“We can get into some fun shit,” she says, heading off to the locker room.
The look on Vex’s face when I walk out of there, ass shaking and jiggling, is priceless.
**
Later back at my house, Tomi slips off her clothes and climbs into the bed next to me.
“Do you have to be in my bed naked?” I give her a funny look and scoot over to put a little space in between us.
Tomi laughs and scoots closer. “Girl, I still have my underclothes on. You’ve seen less in the damn locker room. Stop tripping and let’s binge watch something.” She clicks on Netflix and we get lost in some dumb show that isn’t that funny but takes my mind off of Vex and that bitch.
The show credits start rolling on the latest episode when Tomi turns to face me. She stares at me for a moment, hesitates, then leans over and kisses me on the lips.
“Hold up.” I push her off of me. “What the fuck are you doing?”
Tomi hops out the bed, scrambling around for her clothes. “I’m sorry, Nat. I really am,” she says, slipping her dress over her head.
“What the fuck would make you think I swing that way?” I ask, sitting up in my bed. “Since when have you been into some lesbian shit?”
Tomi doesn’t look me in the eye. “I don’t—I—I—it’s just, being away from King has me fucked up in the head right now.” She sits back down on the edge of my bed and puts her face in her hands. “The shit is so lonely without him around.”
I pull the covers up to my chin and scoot away from her. “That doesn’t mean you should come on to me.”
Tomi wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and stands back up. She grabs her purse quick and walks quick out the room. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
The door slams. I wait until I hear her car start up outside before I get up to lock my front door.
Chapter Ten
RAVEN
It’s been two weeks of running scams during the day and sleeping in this shelter and fighting so bitches won’t steal my socks off my feet by night.
Every night I’m still in this roach den, is another 24 hours, murderous thoughts grow in my head over all the motherfuckers who contributed to me being here.
The temperature is starting to break, which means it’s a lot easier to wait out on the park bench for motherfuckers to walk by so I can steal a purse, or Queen can sell somebody some shit she’s boosted from the strip mall down the block. We still don’t make much but living at the shelter is allowing us to slowly build our stash.
We’re waiting out on the benches, the day I see a big black Escalade come barreling down the street, almost clipping another truck’s mirror off. The driver of the Escalade lowers his window and leans his head out the window. “Yo, watch where you going, my dude!” When he leans his head back in, I see his face.
“Hold up,” I strain my eyes to make sure I’m not seeing what I think I’m seeing.
The midnight black truck parks and the dude jumps out the driver’s seat, while some snooty bitch with her hair pulled back into one of those librarian tight buns, tip-toes out the passenger side. She goes around to the back and reaches in to pull out a small child.
“What the fuck?” I head toward the truck, but Queen yanks my arm back. When I try to pull away, she grips me even tighter.
“Who are they?” she asks, nodding toward the truck.
I fight back tears as I tell her, “That’s my daughter. Those are the motherfuckers who stole her.”
Queen has to use all her might to keep me from rushing Darnell’s wife and beating her ass again for that bitch shit they did to me in court.
“Raven. You have to calm down,” Queen says through clenched teeth. “I know that shit hurts, but if you want to get your daughter back, we have to strategize. We can’t just snatch her like it’s nothing,” she says. “Unless you looking to go back to prison.”
My shoulders relax and my breathing slows down.
“We’re going to get Kayla back,” Queen promises me. “First, we prep, get ourselves set up proper.
When the time is right, we get her and take her someplace where no one will ever be able to take her from you again.
**
I was nine months pregnant with Kayla and still had no idea where my daughter’s father actually lived. Whenever I would ask him, he would catch an attitude like I was stressing him with a hundred questions. Or he would say, “Why would I make you catch a thousand busses when I can just come to you?”
Shit was cool until his ass started disappearing all the time, acting like he was so busy working overtime so that he could move me and Kayla into a nice spot one day.
I was with this nigga for three long years and had never once been to this nigga house, and all along, this motherfucker lived a few blocks away, exactly one block away from the homeless shelter Queen and I now live in.
Since the weather done broke and all the real hustlers are out on the block making shit happen, it’s barely enough room for Queen and me to scam or move our own weight. And neither one of us is about to sell pussy. So, shits been tight. And boring.
With nothing else to do but sit around and wait until these motherfuckers open up the chow room, I spend most of my days on the bench, waiting for Darnell’s wife to get off work, go in the house to change clothes and come back out to walk my daughter to the park down the street.
I watch her square ass, walking across the playground sporting that grandma French roll and played out tracksuit, holding my daughter’s hand, helping her up into the one of them baby swings, or waiting for her on at the bottom of one of them swirly slides.
And it ain’t shit I can do. That bitch has papers on my daughter, and even if I stepped up and demanded her back, I don’t even have no rights to her anymore.
Plus, I’m not even me no more. So, if the cops showed up, it would either be back to jail for me, or I would have to explain why some bitch named Raven Black is holding onto another woman’s kid.
The shit just ain’t fair. While she sit there with her grandma track suit and played out French roll in her head, playing Mommy to my daughter, I have to just sit here and wish I was the one buying cute little corduroy jumpers for my daughter, and putting on matching pink baby J’s. And putting those ribbons in her three thick ponytails.