Hood Rat

by K'wan

  “What’s she up to?” Billy asked.

  “Oh, I forgot you didn’t know. That little hot-in-the-ass bitch gave Don B. some ass,” Rhonda said gleefully.

  “Get the fuck outta here!” Billy was now wide awake.

  “I’m dead-ass. It was supposed to have happened the night you disappeared.”

  “That little slut. So was she all up on him at the club last night?”

  “See, that’s the funny part,” Rhonda continued. “Had I been the one to bag Don B., there’s no way in hell that I wouldn’t have been drinking like a queen and a few dollars heavier at the end of the night. This bitch acts like she’s scared to say two words to the nigga.”

  “What was up with that?” Billy asked, not really understanding Reese’s actions. Reese wasn’t as scandalous as Rhonda, but she was a sack chaser in her own right.

  “I don’t know, but had it been me, I would’ve been on my bullshit,” Rhoda said. “Something is funny with her story and I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

  “Speaking of stories, a little bird told me that a certain rapper was spotted coming out of your building,” Billy said.

  “Damn, muthafuckas always clocking me.”

  “So did you fuck him that day, or before then?” Billy asked smugly.

  “Why do I have to have fucked him, because he was coming out of my building?”

  “No, because I know your trick ass.” Billy laughed.

  “Fuck you, Billy,” Rhonda said, good-naturedly. “You damn right I gave him some pussy. That li’l nigga is on his way to being a star.”

  “That’s my girl, always looking for a come-up,” Billy said sarcastically.

  Rhonda said something, but the beep on the line muffled it. “Hold on, I got another call.” The line momentarily went silent and Rhonda was back. “I gotta go. That’s Paul on the other line. I’m about to bark on his ass for trying to stunt the other night.”

  “The drama in your life never ends,” Billy replied.

  “Whatever, bitch. ‘Bye!”

  * * *

  “Get out the mirror, son. Your eye don’t even look that bad,” Groovy said, flicking the thumb sticks on the PS2 controller.

  “Man, I’m gonna kill this nigga when I catch him!” Rel said, angrily pressing the ice pack against his cheek. He hadn’t really felt it the night before, but when he woke up he felt the effects of Jah’s blow. His cheek, just below his right eye, was swollen and a blood vessel was busted, leaving a nasty red web on the white of his eye.

  “I still don’t see how you let ol’ boy catch you slipping like that,” Slick said, thumbing his own stick.

  “Fuck you mean, you don’t see how? That nigga snuffed me. Yo, on everything I love, if he hadn’t snuck up on me, I’d have laid his ass down in the club. On the real, these niggaz be acting like they don’t know what it is wit’ ya boy, know what I mean? I’m about to get back on my tough-guy shit, son.”

  “That tough-guy shit is what got yo ass punched in the eye in the first place,” Groovy reminded him. “If you hadn’t been trying to play gorilla with that bitch, duke would’ve never decked you.”

  “Yo, how the fuck you sound right now?” Rel asked seriously. “A nigga get a lucky snuff off in the club and you’re making jokes? Yo, if anything you supposed to be helping me figure out how we gonna catch this nigga and put his lights out.”

  “Go ahead with that fake gangsta shit.” Groovy waved him off.

  “Nah, Rel is right,” Slick said. “First these little niggaz rob the spot, then a nigga snuffs Rel in the club. Niggaz is acting like we ain’t ’bout our shit. We gotta tighten up, fellas.”

  “The only thing I’m gonna tighten up is that bitch Yoshi,” Rel declared.

  “I told you that bitch was a snake, son. If you ask me, it was probably a setup,” Groovy said.

  “Word,” Rel agreed, convincing himself that that was actually the case. “Yo, when I spring the trap on these muthafuckas, my justice is gonna be swift. If you don’t believe nothing else, you better believe that.”

  “Don’t worry, Rel, you know I ain’t gonna let this shit go unpunished. After we deal with this thieving muthafucka Jah, we’re gonna find out who laid hands on you. But until then, what we doing today?”

  “Getting money,” Groovy said.

  “We get money every day, my dude. I’m talking about recreationally. It’s mad hot out and I know these bitches is gonna be on the streets in full force.”

  “While y’all silly muthafuckas is sitting here playing video games, we need to be on the streets. Let’s go up to Rucker Park and see what’s popping.”

  “Yeah, lets do that. But first let’s get this fool some sunglasses. Him running around with his shit all broke up is gonna make us look soft.”

  “Fuck you.” Rel scowled at Groovy. He went back to the mirror and continued dabbing his eyes with the ice. “Had it been you, your ass would’ve probably ran. Fake tough guy.” Groovy thought the situation was funny, but Rel didn’t see it like that. Not only had Yoshi dissed him when he tried to pour his heart out, but she had been the cause of him getting knocked out in the club. Hundreds of people had seen or heard about the incident and it wouldn’t be something that Rel would live down anytime soon. His pride might’ve been hurt, but he was still a gangsta. The next time he bumped into Yoshi, he would show her just how ‘bout it he was.

  “Man, fuck these little niggaz,” Groovy said, tossing his joystick to the ground. “If you’re really that uptight about the shit, let’s go handle it!”

  Rel looked from Groovy to Slick, who just shrugged. He hadn’t expected Groovy to call him out like that, but the glove had been thrown. If he didn’t respond properly, any hope he ever had about regaining his G status would go permanently out the window.

  “Fuck it,” Rel said, walking out the front door, followed by Groovy.

  Slick just sat on the chair and shook his head. It seemed as if Groovy and Rel were always out trying to prove who had the biggest dick, when all he wanted to do was make money. Still, they were his team, and he had to ride out. Removing his P89 from the dresser drawer, Slick followed his boys onto the battlefield.

  * * *

  About an hour after Rhonda hung up with Billy, there was a knock on her door. She tied the strings of her bathrobe but left enough slack to show her entire thigh. If you looked close enough, you could see that she wasn’t wearing any panties. With a larcenous smirk and a Newport balanced between her lips, Rhonda opened the door for her baby’s daddy.

  Paul stood in the hallway wearing a white T-shirt and denim shorts that stopped just above the line of his ankle socks. Though he tried to maintain his straight-edge composure, she could see the hungover sway in his stance. He nodded in greeting and stepped into the apartment. When he passed her she could still smell faint traces of alcohol seeping from his pores, partially masked by a sweet fragrance that she didn’t recognize. Probably something his bitch bought him, she thought to herself.

  “Well, hello to you, too,” Rhonda said, locking the door.

  “‘Sup, Rhonda,” he said, helping himself to a seat on the couch. His eyes were red from the night before, but Paul’s face was slack and serious.

  “Look, don’t be coming through here with no attitude.” Rhonda walked into the living room and stood directly in front of him.

  “Rhonda, regardless of how you spend your time, my every waking thought isn’t based around making your life difficult.”

  “Whatever, nigga,” she said, dipping her hand into the pocket of her robe and handing Paul an envelope. “This came for you a few days ago.”

  “Shit, I don’t know why people still send me shit here,” Paul said, reading the return address.

  “Must be a sign,” she said, sitting next to him on the couch.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said, chuckling.

  “Paul, you need to stop fronting. Don’t act like you miss hitting this,” she said, slapping her thigh, causing it to jiggle. />
  “Rhonda, that shit is yesterday’s news,” he said, looking away from her.

  “Yesterday’s news can be tomorrow’s headlines, you better act like you remember what it is.”

  “Rhonda, all I remember is two people who couldn’t sit horses. I ain’t fucking with you.”

  “You know you were always stuck on yourself. Ain’t nobody trying to break up your little make-believe life. I had you before the swagger, nigga.”

  Paul looked at her and laughed. “You know, it kills me how you sit around and try to act like being with you was a great boon for my life. The best and only thing you’ve ever done for me was give me a beautiful son, who I love with all that I am. Other than that, you were a fucked-up dream.”

  “Maybe, but I’ll bet it was a wet one.” She spread her legs a bit, letting Paul get an eyeful of her bush.

  Paul looked from Rhonda’s exposed pussy to her scheming eyes. Her hand slowly made its way down her chest and stomach before it came to rest on her vagina. Using her index and ring fingers, she spread her pussy lips and began massaging them with her index finger. A low hissing came from somewhere deep within her, causing Paul to shudder.

  “Whatever you’re selling, I ain’t buying,” he said, standing up.

  Noticing the slight bulge in his shorts, Rhonda pressed her attack. “Paul,” she said, slithering off the couch, moving next to him, “why you acting like that? It’s been a long time since you let a bitch taste that.” She grabbed for his crotch.

  “Keep your hands to yourself,” Paul backpedaled.

  “Ain’t nobody here but us. I won’t tell if you don’t.” She reached for him again, but Paul caught her about the wrists.

  “Where’s P.J?” Paul asked, his tone making it clear that he wanted no part of what she was offering.

  Rhonda’s eyes flashed hurt and then anger. “He’s in the park.” She jerked away from him. “You didn’t see him when you came in?”

  “If I’d seen him, I’d have never come upstairs in the first place. Later, Rhonda.” Paul headed for the front door, but Rhonda stopped him.

  “That bitch really got you trained, huh?” she asked, smirking as if she couldn’t believe he’d turned her away.

  Paul smiled as if she didn’t have a clue. “It ain’t about being trained. It’s about knowing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity when it comes your way, and having the good sense not to fuck it up over a leftover piece of pussy. Peace.” Paul left the apartment leaving Rhonda stuck on stupid.

  * * *

  After dressing, Billy made her way into the living room where she found her mother hard at work on the laptop. Regina worked downtown at a large corporation as a financial analyst. The title was much more glamorous than the pay, but it kept the rent from falling behind and food on the table.

  “Must you always bring your work home with you?” Billy asked playfully.

  Regina looked at her daughter over the rims of her wire-rim glasses. “I don’t see nobody else trying to keep the lights on.”

  “Jesus, what’s gotten into you this morning?” Billy flopped on the couch near Regina’s desk.

  “This job is driving me crazy.” Regina hefted a thick envelope for Billy to see. “These white folks work me like a dog and reap all the benefits.”

  “Mommy, if you hate your job so much, why don’t you quit?”

  “Sure, and depend on you to take care of us?” Regina said sarcastically. “Don’t think so, sweetie.”

  “I work,” Billy said defensively.

  Regina stopped her clicking on the laptop and looked at her daughter seriously. “Billy, that part-time job you’ve got at Marshalls ain’t work.”

  “So you’re saying because I don’t work for somebody’s fancy firm, my job doesn’t measure up?”

  “I’m not saying that at all, Willamina. To be gainfully employed in this day and age is a blessing, with the economy being the way it is. Most folks have to take work wherever they can find it. What I am saying is, as smart as you are and as hard as I’ve pushed, you shouldn’t have to settle.”

  “Come on, Mommy. I’m really not in the mood for speeches. Do we have to go there again?”

  “Billy, the truth is a painful elixir. Ever since your father was killed, I’ve busted my ass to make sure you’d have the opportunity to be something better. You were always good with books and there isn’t a man that can touch you on the basketball court. You had the best of both worlds, and I’ve had to watch you try your best to piss it away running the streets with trash.”

  “Mommy, I’m gonna pull it together,” Billy told her.

  “That’s the same thing you’ve been telling me for the last few years, darling. ‘I’m just taking a semester off, Mom. I’ll go back.’ Remember that one?”

  “I don’t really wanna hear this,” Billy said, standing to leave.

  “Well, you’re gonna hear it!” Regina shouted, slamming the heavy folder on the desk. The look she was giving Billy froze her in her tracks. “Billy, there were so many things that I wish I could’ve done with my life, but I missed my chance. It isn’t too late for you.”

  Billy folded her arms. “Mommy, why are you pressing me?”

  “Because there was no one around to press me and I nearly wasted my life. You were the only thing I ever did right.” Regina came from around her desk to stand in front of Billy. She placed her hands on her daughter’s cheeks and looked into her eyes, eyes that were much like her own at that age. So young and full of life. A lone tear rolled down her cheek, but she kept the rest at bay. “Willamina, all I want is for you to do the right thing while you still can. Don’t wake up one day and find yourself a welfare mother, wondering how it happened.”

  “I won’t, Mommy,” Billy said, pulling away. Making hurried steps, she left the apartment.

  “I hope so,” Regina said to the space where her child had been standing only seconds prior. “I hope so.”

  * * *

  Billy moved through the clean lobby of her building, gasping for air. It felt like the walls were closing in on her and she needed to be away from the source of her deprivation. Exiting the building, she took a deep breath and appreciated the muggy New York air.

  Regina always knew how to strike a nerve in her only child. Billy knew that her mother meant well, but she also didn’t understand the ways of the new world. She thought that if you had a college degree then you automatically were given a good job and stability. This was hardly the case. Billy knew plenty of people who had graduated from college and still found themselves stuck in dead-end jobs or miserable lives. Even if she had gone back to school and played college ball, there was no guarantee that the WNBA would come calling. No, she had to do whatever it was that made her happy, and she just hadn’t found anything as of yet.

  Her cell phone vibrated in he pocket, startling her. She pulled the small phone out and glanced at the caller ID. Not recognizing the number, she contemplated whether she should answer it or not. She started to return it to her pocket, but decided against it. For all she knew it could’ve been important, so she picked it up.

  “Hi, Billy. It’s Marcus,” the caller said.

  “Marcus? What the hell?” she said, pretending to be annoyed. She was actually glad he called. She had been thinking about him since she met him and wondered what he was really all about.

  “Wait, wait. Please, don’t hang up. Just give me five minutes of your time and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Okay, I’m listening.” She glanced at the call timer.

  Marcus took a deep breath, “First, I want to apologize for what I said to you in the club. I had no idea what you’ve been through, and I felt like a dickhead for coming at you like that.”

  “You’ll get no complaints from me,” she cut in.

  “Are you gonna let me finish or what?”

  “Sorry, go ahead.”

  “Billy, I don’t wanna complicate your life, I just wanna get to know you. I know you’re cautious about your heart, and as Go
d is my witness, I’d never intentionally hurt it. I just want a chance. One dinner, Billy. If you still think I’m an asshole, then I’ll get out of your life. Just give me a shot.”

  Billy paused, as if she were contemplating his offer. She was glad that it was a phone call so that Marcus couldn’t see the silly grin that had spread across her face. Her mind still told her to tell him to go to hell, but her heart told her to give him a shot. She couldn’t live her life mourning Sol, and though she didn’t intend to fuck Marcus, he could be the first step in helping her let go.

  “Okay, Marcus,” she said, in a tone that suggested she had a million things she could be doing other than talking to him on the phone. “I’ll give you your one dinner, but I’m warning you, if you try some fly shit, it’s off wit’ your head. We clear on that?”

  “Crystal,” he said, trying to hide the joy in his voice. “Are you free tonight?”

  “I might be,” she said, teasing him. “What did you have in mind?”

  “A light dinner. I know a good Italian restaurant in midtown that we can hit.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Great! You can meet me at the club tonight and—”

  “Hold on, par. I’m not really trying to sit up in no strip club,” she told him. “You said dinner.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Baby, you got the wrong idea already. I have to work there until about ten, but the rest of the night is ours. Come down about nine-thirty and have a drink until my shift is over. Don’t worry, I won’t let the girls get at you,” he joked.

  “Very funny. I’ll be there, but I’m leaving at ten on the dot, whether you’re done with your shift or not.”

  “Fair enough,” he agreed. “So I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Wait a second,” she said. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you get my cell number?”

  “Yoshi gave it to me,” he answered, as if she should’ve already known.

  “It figures. I’ll deal with that bitch later.”

  “I hope you’re not mad?” he asked.

  “Nah, it’s cool. You just remember what I said. Ten, and not a minute later.”