Wifey Status

by Racquel Williams

  “Hey, baby,” she greeted me, opening her arms to give me one of her bear-type hugs.

  “Hey, Ma.” I bent down to plant a wet one on her cheek.

  She was a little over four feet but had a voice that could cause an earthquake. We walked hand in hand into the house I bought for her two years ago. The aroma from her cooking filled the air. I knew we were goin’ to be grubbin’ in a little while. We rapped about everything, including family here and back in Jamaica. My uncle Johnny needed money again—for another “surgery.” See, I didn’t have a problem helping out family, but the problem with that was Uncle Johnny wasn’t really sick. The nigga had a coke problem, but knowing my moms and how naive she was, she was too blind to see that her favorite brother was a certified junkie.

  We sat down and ate some fried dumplings, ackee, and codfish with hot cocoa. She knew how to throw down in the kitchen, and I sure missed her cooking.

  I glanced over at her and saw a worried look on her face. Whenever she worried too much, it always took a toll on her health.

  “Ma, is e’erything a’ight. You look sick or sump’n,” I asked in a concerned tone.

  “No, baby, I’m OK; tanks to do Jesus. It’s you dat I’m worried about. You need to stop whatever you doin’ before it’s too late. Tek heed, mi bwoy; it’s not good atall. You too damn hard head,” she scolded.

  I felt an uneasy feeling sweep over my body. I hated to see my mom hurting like that, but I wasn’t ready to give up hustling.

  “Ma, I’ma be a’ight. I just be chillin’,” I lied.

  “Alijah, a hard head make a soft ass.” She looked at me with her coal-black eyes—eyes that made you think that she could see through your soul—She then got up from the table.

  That was my cue that the conversation was over for now. As she began to clean up, I took the opportunity to step out on the porch and handle some business on the phone.

  * * *

  Later that night, I decided to head back to Virginia. It was always painful to leave my mom behind. Even though she was reluctant to take money from me, I always put a stack in her nightstand. As we hugged good-bye, I saw tears in her eyes. I wished that I didn’t have to put her through these emotions, but reality was, a nigga gotta eat.

  Thanks to the Almighty, I made it home safely. It was dangerous riding dirty on I-95. Many soldiers fell victim while taking that trip. You never knew what to expect, and that one trip might be your last trip.

  * * *

  Ring! Ring! My phone kept going off, so I checked my caller ID.

  “Speak to me, son.”

  “Whaddup, bruh?” Darryl said, sounding agitated.

  “What’s it hittin’ fo’?” I questioned, sounding concerned.

  “Man, jakes ran up in the spot on Q Street early this mornin’.”

  “Word? Where you at?”

  “I’m on Twenty-fifth Street ’cross from tha chicken spot.”

  My mind was racing; I tried to maintain my composure. I couldn’t help but wonder how this happened.

  Darryl was seated at a table when I walked in. I ordered me a Ginseng to throw off any suspicion of this meeting.

  “Whaddup, son?” I gave him dap and sat across from him.

  “One a tha workers called me ’bout four o’clock tellin’ me tha spot just got hit. Luckily, no one was up in there at tha time. I got dressed and rushed ova there, and when I drove by, I saw Richmond’s Task Force comin’ out with garbage bags full of shit.”

  “What tha numbers?” I got straight to the point.

  “They got ’bout half a key and ten stacks.”

  I clenched my teeth together and hit the table to show my frustration. “Yo, shut dat bumbo claat place down, and find out who a run dem pussy claat mout’. Jakes ain’t dat fuckin’ smart. Sum body mout’ ’ave diarrhea, an’ I wanna kno’ who.”

  “I’m already on it. I’ma start with any nigga that got torn off recently. Also, I’ma check wit’ my connect down at the station. She should kno’ sump’n.”

  We sat for a little while longer, and then parted ways. As I headed out, a strange feeling swept over my body, like something wasn’t right. Sometimes, I felt like I was being watched. Right then, I remembered the warning that Mom-dukes gave me a week ago.

  I busted a U-turn and headed toward Fairfield Projects, where Saleem be at. He had called me a couple of days ago. I peeped his F-150 truck parked outside of his store. I couldn’t help but think the brother was doin’ it big. He had just opened this spot about three weeks ago. He sold everything from incense, oils, soap, and organic foods.

  When I walked into the store, he was standing behind the counter. “Yo, my man, whaddup?” I greeted him.

  “Peace, my brotha,” he said and gave me pound.

  “Let’s sit down.”

  We walked to the rear of the store. He sat at his desk while I sat across from him.

  “How’s the business treatin’ you?” he inquired.

  “We eatin’, but one of tha spots got hit by jakes this mornin’.”

  “Word! That’s not good at all. That mean someone dropped a dime on the spot.”

  “Exactly, but also, lately, I’ve been feelin’ like things ain’t right. I’ve been havin’ weird dreams ’bout getting locked up and wakin’ up in cold sweat. I ’on’t kno’ what to make of all of this. That’s why I’m here rappin’ wit’ you.”

  “Well, brotha, always remember to trust your gut instinct. When you’re in tha game and gettin’ the type of paper you’re gettin’, you gonna breed enemies from all angles.” He paused, then continued. “You got niggas tryin’a get yo’ spot in tha game, or the jakes tryin’a lock you up in the belly of the beast. Trust no one. Yo’ best friend can become yo’ worst enemy, brotha. Analyze yo’ surroundings, and be yo’ own eyes and ears. Leave it up to no one. You’re yo’ only keeper,” he warned.

  I sat there like a good student taking in all the knowledge that my mentor was spitting out.

  “How is that wife of yours doing?” Saleem asked.

  “Tha truth, son, haven’t been home in days,” I confessed.

  “Well, keep an eye on her. A scorned woman can become a death sentence. Handle yo’ business before it becomes a problem.”

  I walked out the door feelin’ like I conquered the world. Saleem said something that hit the nerve. I wasn’t close to a lot of people. I trust my niggas, and they proved their loyalty . . . so far.

  As for the females that were in my life, I know Shayna bitches a lot, but she’d never do anything to hurt a nigga. I wasn’t too sure ’bout Sierra, ’cause, even though she seemed loyal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was one of them.

  Sierra Rogers

  I had been on my feet all day long. It was busier than usual. Summer was over, and all the little girls were getting ready to go back to school, so I had to hook them up with their little hairdos. I remembered when I was their age and wanted to look fly with my little updo.

  My clientele was steadily growing, and I needed to get my own spot. There were four stylists and two barbers crammed up in a small-ass shop that you could barely move around in without bumping into each other. Charley didn’t give a fuck as long as we were paying for our chairs. I wasn’t feeling him anymore, but I felt obligated, because when I needed a break, he was there.

  Ring! Ring!

  “Hey, baby,” I answered the phone, sounding too damn happy.

  “You,” he responded in a mischievous tone.

  “Mm . . .” I chuckled. I felt like a high school girl all over again; shy, but yet feeling hot in the pants.

  “Get ready. I’m comin’ to scoop you up.”

  “Boy, you know I’m at work.”

  “I ’on’t give a fuck. Tell that nigga you gotta go handle some business,” he spoke with authority.

  “Oh, what you have planned?”

  “Don’t worry ’bout all that,” he spat.

  “Dang! What’s wit’ the attitude. I was only playin’ wit’ you.”
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  After picking me up, I noticed he was driving toward an upscale community over at the West End. Then he came to stop in front of a house. “Why are we parked here? Who lives over here?” I asked.

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he opened his door and got out. I was getting tired of his bullshit, so I opened my door and got out too. I was ready to give it to his ass, and I stormed toward him. Before I could even open my mouth, however, he handed me a set of keys.

  “What are those for?” I shot him a stupid look.

  “These are yours. Now go open the door to yo’ house.”

  “House? Boy, stop playing wit’ me like that.”

  “Shorty, go see fo’ yo’self,” he instructed me.

  “Are you for real? Aah, aah.” I jumped on him, hugging him.

  He pushed me off him. “Go on, shorty.”

  I ran toward the front door. The whole time I was thinking if this was one of Alijah’s sick jokes, I was going to kill him on the spot. I tried the first key, and it didn’t work. I tried the second one—bingo! Oh my God! The first thing that I noticed was the hardwood floor, the shiny type you see on the infomercials on Saturday mornings.

  I sped through the whole house in seconds; four bedrooms, wall-to-wall carpeting, the master bathroom was huge, and the kitchen was hooked up. I was so overjoyed I started to cry. I got on my knees and just wept. I finally had my own house.

  I was into my emotions and didn’t realize that Alijah was kneeling beside of me. I was aware of his presence when he wrapped his big arms around me.

  “Thank you, baby, thank you,” I said while hugging him.

  “Ma, that’s the least I could do fo’ my woman.” He helped me up from off the carpet and handed me a washcloth.

  “Sniff . . . sniff . . . I’m grateful to you forever.”

  “Nah, you deserve this. Take it easy. Don’t get all mushy on a nigga.” He grabbed my arm. “C’mon, lemme show you the backyard.”

  “Wow! It’s huge. I’m gonna need ’bout ten kids to play back here,” I joked.

  “Yo’ ass crazy.” He walked off, back into the house.

  I followed behind him while he did his inspection. He stopped in the master bedroom and turned around to face me. “This where them ten babies gonna be made.” He kissed my lips. I kissed him back passionately.

  I leaned on his dick, which was pulsating on my throbbing pussy. I knew that I was ready to fuck. He was feeling the same way, so we went ahead and broke the new house in, butt-naked, on the hardest floor that I ever fucked on.

  In my mind, it was well worth it. This man just bought me a house. The least I could’ve done was showed him my appreciation by slobbing on his knob and riding his cock. Life was lovely.

  Chapter Eight

  Sierra Rogers

  It was the holiday, and my man was out of town, so I decided to go house shopping.

  I called Neisha so we could hang out and catch up on each other’s lives. I had been neglecting her since I started messing with Alijah. I picked her up, and we went to Value City Store. Word was that they had some nice-ass furniture for the low low. I found furniture for the entire house and made plans to have it delivered.

  We weren’t out of the store a good minute when Neisha started to interrogate me. “Bitch, where did you get all that money?”

  “From my man—”

  “Didn’t know you have one of them,” she spat.

  I felt bad that I was holding out on my girl. I just wanted to keep my business out of the street for the time being. I went ahead and told her about him, from the incident at the club to him buying me a house.

  “Bitch, a house? You lucky. What you had to do, suck his dick and lick his ass?”

  “Yup that entire, plus swallow all his come,” I bragged.

  “Bitch, you scandalous, but you go, gurl. Get it while you can,” she said, laughing.

  I was glad that she was happy for me ’cause I loved Neisha to death. She was the closest to a family that I had. I dropped her off, but before she exited the car, I handed her $2,000. I knew she was struggling with her tuition and bills. Furthermore, if I was eating well, she was going to eat too.

  * * *

  The next day I went to the Housing Authority and told them I was leaving. I then went to Creighton so I could finish packing all those damn shoes I had. As I pulled up, I noticed Li’l Tony and the Creighton boys posted. They were known to run the projects, and they even had their signature “Creighton Boyz” tatted on their arms. I tried to slip by without being noticed, but it was too late.

  “Sierra, what’s poppin’?” Li’l Tony asked me while smiling, showing all thirty-two of his pearl-white teeth.

  “Oh, hey, Tony.” I really didn’t care too much for him but didn’t want to seem rude.

  “You ’on’t fuck wit’ a nigga no mo’?”

  “Boy, what you talkin’ ’bout? I’ve been working, tryin’a to make some dough.”

  “Word, listen up. You’re like a little sister to me, but you kno’ the rules ’bout bringin’ stray dogs home to eat without gettin’ permission,” he said with venom in his voice.

  “Nah, you listen. I’m not yo’ sister, so get to the fuckin’ point.” I folded my arms and gritted on him.

  “Word in tha street is that you fuckin’ wit’ that dude from up top.”

  “Hmm . . . So what that got to do wit’ you?”

  He stepped closer to my face. I placed my hand on my pocketbook, just in case this nigga overstepped his boundaries.

  “Yo, bitch, you one of us, right? So, you gon’ help me set dude up ’cause I know he caked up. I’ma rob him, and I’ll break bread wit’ you.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, so I took a couple of seconds to gather my thoughts. Then I spoke. “Nah, look, you charcoal-lookin’ muthafucka. I’m not helpin’ you do a muthafuckin’ thing. You got the wrong bitch. Now get tha fuck outta my face before I spit on you!”

  “Yo, bitch, who the fuck you talkin’ to? I’ma get at ole boy one way or another, and if you stand in my way, I’ma split yo’ wig too.” He walked off with his flunkies not far behind.

  “Fuck you, Anthony Smith. Yea, nigga, I know yo’ government. Fuck wit’ me,” I yelled out in anger, then stormed off to my apartment. This nigga got under my skin. My next move was to upgrade from a .22 to a .38.

  * * *

  My man was living with me, even though some nights he didn’t make it home. I didn’t fuss when he came home. I wasn’t one of those hoes that be stressing their man out so he would find a reason to run to the next bitch.

  I was going to be his peace from the storm in his life. Plus, he just blessed me with a baby blue BMW. What else can a bitch ask for? I had everything I ever dreamed of—and more. The year 2006 was definitely my year to get my shine on those hoes in Richmond.

  I had also been looking for a store to rent. My homegirl Li’l Mo’ wanted to roll with me. We were two bad bitches with scissors and marcels. I was going to name the shop Millennium Stylez.

  Alijah called and said he was on his way home. I decided to cook him some soul food. See, I wasn’t a great cook, but I put my soul into cooking him some fried chicken, candy yams, collard greens, and corn on the cob. I hope he liked it.

  After I cooked, I straightened up. I was still trying to get used to living in a big house. I glanced around. Hmm . . . It was a big come up from that little matchbox that I used to call home for the last twenty-one years. Now when I looked around, all I saw was wall-to-wall carpet, plasma TVs, and designer furniture. These were all the benefits of playing second. It didn’t matter what he did. He was taking care of me, and I was playing my part as his ride-or-die chick.

  Six hours later, he walked through the door and headed straight for the shower. I was feeling some type of way because he lied to me that he was coming straight home. I warmed his food up and put it on the table, then went to my room. I flipped through the channels. There was nothing that grabbed my attention, so I settled for the news
on CNN.

  He walked in the room in just his boxers. Damn, he looked sexy. That’s the shit I was talking about. No matter how mad I was at him, I couldn’t stay like that for long.

  “Ma, you know I love you, right?”

  “Sure,” I said, then looked at him to make sure I was hearing him right.

  “That’s all you gon’ say after I just put my feelin’ out there?” He looked at me puzzled.

  “What you want me to say, Alijah?”

  He took my hand and turned my face toward him. “I know you tight wit’ a nigga right now, but I’m handlin’ the situation. It’s gonna get better real soon, ma, just bear wit’ a nigga,” he pleaded. He paused, then continued, “You e’erything a nigga need. I see us together for a long-ass time,” he said sincerely.

  “Alijah, I love you too, and I’m tryin’a understand yo’ situation, but it’s hard. My feelings are involved.”

  “I feel you and give you my word. I’m workin’ on it,” he said while rubbing his hand over his braids.

  “Don’t worry, boo. I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to,” I assured him.

  “That’s what’s good, ’cause I need you on my team.”

  That brought tears to my eyes because that was all new to me. I was always lacking love from when I was a child. Now I had a nigga that loved me. That was fucking great.

  We ended up making love all night. Our bodies were drained. We were going to need some vitamin pills if we continued to fuck at the rate we were going.

  “No bullshit, Sierra! I’m dead serious . . . If I eva catch you fuckin’ wit’ these lame-ass niggas out here, it’s not gon’ be pretty.”

  “I’m all yours, daddy. You ain’t got to worry about me,” I said mischievously.

  Even though I tried to downplay the seriousness of what he said, deep down, I knew he meant every word that came out his mouth. As I lay my head on his chest, I wondered what I had gotten myself into.

  I heard the phone ring even in my sleep. Dammit, who the hell was calling me? I peeped at the clock; it was three o’clock in the fucking morning.