Carl Weber's Kingpins

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Carl Weber's Kingpins Page 16

by Raynesha Pittman


  “They grew up not too far from the area. Temper chose to lie to him, and you defend that as right?” Paula snarled.

  “Of course I don’t, and with our personal life on the table, her lying to him for two damn years is the same reason we had our falling out. She’s wrong for lying, I agree, but her lies aren’t what caused this problem.”

  “You’re right. Her shady past did. How did you meet her again? For being of Asian descent, I’m sure she has disappointed grandparents waiting to disown her.”

  “This isn’t a race thing, Paula. Don’t turn it into one.”

  “Don’t try to take it personally, because your best friend made us the front-page news tomorrow and not in a good light. You tell me not to make it about race, but open your eyes and read the headlines. A homeless black woman tries to stab her half-Asian childhood friend in the presence of inner-city youth during a history lesson on tattoos, an exhibit approved by Tyger Washington, the museum’s black curator and friend of the would-be victim. An Hispanic man from both ladies’ past saves the day by stabbing the perpetrator with her own knife. And do you know what happens next? They go check out the neighborhood, which I bet is gang infested, and do a little digging in Temper’s past to find a sealed juvenile record as I did.”

  “And all of this fucked-up shit happened under the supervision of the director—a white woman and Harvard graduate,” Tyger added.

  “Exactly!”

  “Oh, wait, I forgot to mention an undercover pill-popping animal who can only function on enough psychotic uppers to bring back the dead. Right, let’s not forget to air your dirty laundry too.”

  “I told you my habit is under control. That little incident where you found me in my car out of it was a one-time thing. I accidentally took too many, and my issues will never make it to the newspaper because I don’t advertise it like your people do.”

  “Like my people do? Are you talking about black people? You know what, don’t answer that. I’m going to leave before you say the wrong thing, and please, Ms. Undercover Junkie Museum Director who was born white and holds a master’s degree from Harvard, please remember that the only full-blooded black woman on staff is the only one who holds two doctorates in two different subjects. One of them is an honorary PhD, like you love to point out, but where is yours? And those two degrees I hold didn’t make me one percent whiter, yet they made me a hundred percent more qualified than you to run this museum. All of this shit is part of my plan. You’re just too white to see it.”

  “Again, this isn’t about you or me. Next time there is anything out of her, she’s fired!”

  Paula didn’t care what Tyger had to say. It was her reputation on the line. She felt the only way to save herself and satisfy everyone affected by the event was to let Temper go at once. The kids’ statements to the police named Temper as the innocent victim, so she’d wait until Temper’s next late clock-in or late return from lunch, but Temper was as good as gone.

  “You won’t have another problem out of her,” Tyger assured her. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow. It’s probably best that we get here before the media does.”

  * * *

  Tyger didn’t know Temper’s friend’s name, but she did know her injury and was sure she’d be sent to the jail ward. She went into the gift shop and grabbed impressive and expensive trinkets, but then remembered before she swiped her card that the police wouldn’t allow the lady to keep the gifts where she was nor where she was going. Instead of trying to win points with Temper by showing her friend love, she’d save the spoiling for Temper directly.

  The county sheriff stationed on the floor told her which room she was in. Seeing that the victim was there with the accused and didn’t want to press charges, they were waiting to hear back from the museum to find out if they would be pressing charges due to their no-weapons policy.

  “I’m visiting on behalf of the, um, museum,” she stated as she removed her credentials from her wallet and handed them to the sheriff. “We didn’t plan on filing any charges once we found out she was coerced into the act. She was a childhood friend of the victim.”

  “Who told you her life was in danger and she was forced to do it?” he asked, pulling his walkie-talkie off his side.

  “That’s what the lady screamed after she was stabbed. She said, ‘He made me do it. He’s crazy.’ Either way, we won’t be pursuing any charges against her. Can I please see her now?”

  “Yes, you can see her, but don’t leave until my sergeant or a detective comes to talk to you. That’s the first time I’ve seen a pass given on a weapon,” he added and shook his head in disappointment. “She’s the third door on the left.”

  Tyger wasn’t sure if her visit would be welcomed by Temper or if she wanted privacy with the lady because of their fight. They agreed years ago never to pry about anything that happened before them, and Temper’s attacker fell into that category. All she knew about Temper’s past was that she had given birth to a baby who got the father his third strike, and she only knew that much from Isabel after telling her about the near fight at the courthouse that sparked their friendship. Tyger didn’t intend to be nosy. However, she could hear the girl’s conversation before she made it to the room. Knowing Temper, Tyger was sure that she would change the subject when she entered if it was about her past. Tyger never cared about Temper’s past until today. She lingered out of sight near the door and tuned in.

  “How in the hell did you pull Julio’s fine, heavy-pockets-having ass? He ain’t never fucked with anyone from the hood. Hell, a year or two after you left, rumors started spreading that he was gay. He stopped fucking with everybody, but he gave me a ride back to the hood when I got out of the hospital in East L.A. That ese can talk.” She laughed, and Temper joined in.

  “Yeah, he has a lot to say about everything. Honestly, I ran into him at a club with my best friend, or should I say sister, after all the shit we’ve been through, including this crap with you.”

  “Crap, what the fuck is that? You said it right. It’s called shit, and who are you talking about? That fat bitch from the museum?”

  “She isn’t fat.”

  Tyger was glad she heard Temper correct her because she was ready to walk in and do the correcting herself. “She just took that thick shit and stretched the elastic on it to the max, but that’s my girl, and she’s been there for me through a lot. Anyways, I knew who he was as soon as he got under the lights, and he didn’t have a clue who I was for the last two years. He was going to propose to me soon. I just knew it. You definitely came and changed all of that today.”

  “No, you’re not going to blame two years of lying on me. You’re the one who decided to lie about not being black.”

  “I didn’t lie about being black. I lied about coming from the hood because I’m not hood anymore.”

  “Yes, the fuck you are. Get hungry, lose your job, or let any other bitch beside me run up on you with a knife, and I bet you all the money I’m sure you got that you won’t be able to hide the hood in you. I’m just surprised you’d go after him knowing how close he was to Khasema. You say you’re not hood anymore, but I see you’re still cutthroat. Maybe you’re worse than I remember you being. How long are you going to gut punch Khasema for nutting in that thing and then saying fuck you?”

  “I don’t know anybody by that name, so why would I have remembered?” Temper was going to change the subject, and Kei’Lani knew it, but after all these years, she was done letting Temper run the show and lurking in her shadow.

  “You’re still lying, I see. Khasema, aka K-Mack, is your son’s father who’s doing life thanks to you, and he’s up for a parole hearing next year after serving sixteen years—the same fuck nigga who had you flip bad on our friendship.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. Why were you in the hospital when Julio gave you the lift, anyway?”

  Kei’Lani adjusted her position in her bed the best she could with one hand and one foot cuffed to it. She wanted to keep talki
ng about Khasema, yet she didn’t want to make Temper mad to the point of deciding to press charges to be rid of her for good. Kei’Lani still had a job to do, and if it were only her life on the line, she’d take the risk, but it wasn’t.

  “I had a seizure. I have a fucked-up seizure condition from a brain injury that you caused. Remember when you cracked me over my head for fucking the same nigga you fucked? As if you didn’t fuck every nigga I fucked. You’ve fucked me up for life, as I’m sure you were trying to do. I ain’t been right since. I can’t keep a job, am in and out of the hospital, and can’t drink or smoke. That will put me in the hospital. And there are days I wake up and don’t know who or where I am. You taught me a lesson in friendship that day that I’ll never forget, and that’s to trust no bitch. What’s fucked up is I can’t remember how to tie my shoes day to day, but I ain’t never forgot you or stopped loving my blood sister who did this to me,” she said, holding her finger in the air.

  “If you loved your blood sister so much, why did you hide fucking him, knowing how crazy I was back then? You know what? That doesn’t even matter anymore. What does matter is how we got here in the first damn place. Why did you try to stab me? Because of the golf club shit? You were telling me the reason at the museum. I was too zoned out to hear it. Wait, how in the hell did you know where to find me?”

  For the first time since they had been together, Kei’Lani didn’t have shit to say, and Tyger hoped she did. She waited to see if she’d answer Temper’s question by telling her someone had sent her to do it, but she didn’t, and when the air got too thin to breathe, Tyger stepped in.

  “Knock, knock. I hope I’m not intruding, but I had to come to check on you, Temper. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m good. Just tying up loose ends with my old friend Kei’Lani.”

  “Say it for me. Say it just one time,” Kei-Lani begged.

  “Say what?” Temper snapped.

  “Call me Kei-Kei. I want to hear it.”

  “Never again.”

  “Oh, you must’ve told thickums lies about your past too, huh? What did she tell you about the only best friend she had until she was seventeen?”

  “Honestly, Kei-Kei, I had never heard of you before today. We agreed on anything that happened before us didn’t matter. Maybe I should leave and give y’all a moment of privacy,” Tyger offered, and to her surprise, both ladies rejected it.

  “Have a seat, Washington. This shit only gets uglier from here. It’s time for you to know everything about your sister,” Temper said as she made herself a spot on the bed next to Kei’Lani.

  “You don’t have to—”

  “Hush, child, she’s going to tell the truth. I need to hear this one, and whatever gaps she leaves in the story, I’m filling them bitches in. Yo’ best friend ain’t shit, big booty, and she about to finally say it. Where’s the popcorn? Extra butter, please.”

  Temper shot her middle finger up at Kei’Lani, took a deep breath, and then started with her parents. She worked her way to her uncle, aunt, and grandmother, and Kei’Lani chimed in.

  “She didn’t show up to none of their funerals either, but you can continue.”

  Temper heaved as she accepted that everyone she loved was dead, then took Tyger on a detailed ride full of fights, robberies, sex, drugs, and surprisingly, no money.

  “Wait, you got passed around a hood day party like a blunt by choice? Who signs up for that shit?” Tyger uttered in disgust.

  “Yo’ sister,” Kei’Lani answered, winded from laughing. “She wanted to show the big homies that she was down for the hood, but really that bitch went down on the hood.”

  Kei’Lani was tickled, Tyger looked nauseated, and Temper took it all with her chin up. She held her head high as she continued to tell stories of threesomes with Kei-Kei for weed and beer.

  “Hold up. If you’re going to tell your story, make sure you tell my truth. I wasn’t licking her pussy for pocket change and malt liquor. That might have been why Temper did it, but I was born bi. My daddy was one of the biggest . . .” Kei’Lani stopped talking. She realized she’d gotten so relaxed in Temper’s tell-all session that she almost relieved her own hand. She switched her words up. “Freaks on the east side. He had cases of porn that I binge watched like a Golden Girls marathon. I did it because I wanted to. She’s the hooker,” she concluded with a nod at Temper and didn’t say another word.

  “I’m not trying to be funny or judge you, boo, but I got to know. Are you sure the guy you sent to jail is the baby’s father?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  It was the first time Temper felt ashamed of herself. She didn’t know how many men she’d slept with in her life, and when asked, she didn’t remember when she lost her virginity or to whom. However, she knew without a doubt who she had gotten pregnant by.

  “Good,” Tyger chimed in, wanting to move past talk of anything that had to do with the baby Temper tossed away. “If you had to guess, how old do you think you were when you lost your virginity?”

  “I don’t know. Twelve? I think I got dared to lose it at the pool.”

  “Bitch, stop lying, you had already fucked Spade behind the Laundromat on Halloween before then,” Kei’Lani said, breaking her silence to correct her.

  “Shit, you’re right. Then I don’t know, because I was ten then.”

  “Ten?” Tyger exclaimed, holding back tears and disgust.

  “Yeah, I was ten. I got my first taste of dick and couldn’t cut it off. There were times when everything felt wrong, and during those times, I would sneak in my granny’s liquor and have a shot. The liquor made me hot and dick cooled me off.”

  “Oh, Temper, baby.”

  The sadness slipped out of Tyger’s mouth, and Temper ignored it. There was more to tell her. Temper went on to tell the truth about the gang tattoo that hid behind the rose on her left breast and confessed that she was never officially put on the Crips hood she represented. Still, after fucking the majority of the men from it, no one made initiation an issue. She told Tyger everything she could remember, but she left out one part.

  “Temper won’t admit it to you, me, nor God, but that bitch has a real problem. She likes drama, violence, and sex, but I’m sure you already know that, huh? You’re sexy as fuck with them big legs and smile. I know she’s tickled that kitten,” Kei’Lani said, sticking her tongue out and wiggling it from side to side.

  “Thank you, I guess, but nah. As a matter of fact,” Tyger began, turning to look at Temper, who was fighting back tears, “I told the bitch about a lesbian encounter I had, and she hasn’t let me live it down. And I did the shit when I was sixteen.”

  “You know I be playing with you about that,” Temper defended herself.

  “Yeah, but why was it so hard for you to say that you had one too?” Tyger questioned.

  “Because it made my past real. We said everything was left behind. That was part of it, and so was Kei-Kei.”

  “Now that right there she ain’t lying about. When she found out that I fucked that dog K-Mack, she busted me in the back of my head with a golf club and left me to die in her granny’s house. Me and that old woman never got along, but after she found me face down in that carpet, she made it her business to take care of me. Even on the day she died, she had been by the house to check on me and ask if I had heard anything from you. She was sure you’d come back after you got out of jail at eighteen. She said she couldn’t die until her Chinaman came home.”

  That was it. Temper couldn’t hold back any longer. The truth needed freedom.

  “I got pregnant and was too high all the damn time to care. My baby daddy was a small-time dope boy, and I knew he’d throw me the money for the abortion. I knew it because he had paid for the first two.”

  “What?” Kei-Kei gasped at the new information.

  “They weren’t his babies. The first one he paid for was a mistake. There was a Hood Day event where I volunteered to be the homies’ piñata, and I let everybody hit. There wasn’t
a way to find out who the daddy was, and it didn’t matter. I was fourteen. Keeping the baby wasn’t an option. We both knew who I was pregnant by the second time because it happened at his dope spot. He called himself doing right by his homie when he paid for it, but I wasn’t right in the head once it was done. I started having these fucked-up nightmares where I’d be walking across a cemetery, and there would be a zombified baby following and saying fucked-up shit to me. I stopped sleeping, and one night, when I was walking the streets hoping to catch a sale, Khasema stopped me. The funny part about it was that all he said to me was, ‘Are you okay?’ And I broke down. I told him about the dreams, and he smoked with me until around three in the morning. When he got sleepy, he told me to come home with him. I thought he was trying to fuck, and he surprised me. I started spending the night with him, and he would hold me until it was time to start our day. It was like that every night for three months, and we didn’t have sex.”

  “That bitch is lying,” Kei-Kei yelled, cutting her off. She intended to ask Temper who her first two pregnancies were by, except anger entered her thoughts. “I know her baby daddy, and Khasema ain’t the ‘love on you’ type of nigga. Who are you trying to impress? If he was that good to you, why would you get him his third strike?”

  “You just answered with your own statement. He wasn’t a ‘love on you’ type of nigga, yet he was for me, and then he found out that I wasn’t a ‘love on you’ type of bitch. I stayed high and drunk twenty-four seven, but I wasn’t fucking nobody except for him. It was hard to get him to believe me when he caught me sucking his boy up at his spot. He offered me a quick hundred, and I went for it. Shit wasn’t the same for us after that, and then he went to jail.”

  Temper turned to face Kei’Lani. “I didn’t know they’d get him for the baby. The day I had him, he called me talking recklessly, and then he threw you in my face. He told me he was going to have his bitch Kei-Kei beat my ass. That shit hurt. When I got caught in Vegas running away with drugs, I almost died from an untreated STD. That’s why Lena’s house smelled the way it did when I was in labor. She was right about the infection, but it was worse than she thought. When I told them what happened to the baby, I knew he was going down since I was a minor, and I didn’t give a fuck. I put the drugs they found in my bag on him, too. He crossed the line using you to get revenge. I would have killed him if he were free. Why not ensure the bitch got life!”

 

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