The Sheisty Saga
Page 22
“Word? I know what that’s about, but it wasn’t me. I’m glad she a’ight, though. Anyway, thanks. Good looking out, fam.”
“It’s nothing. I’ma holla at you later, a’ight?” said Reg.
“A’ight, man.”
Chapter 73
Shana was so upset after Epiphany and Keisha called to tell her about K.C.’s behavior at the club the other night. Keisha had the proof, but didn’t have access to a computer in order to print it out.
“What’s wrong with your computer, Keish?” Shana questioned.
“Nothing. I’m staying with Epiphany for a while,” answered Keisha.
“Shana, you can use my computer as soon as my pops gets my stuff out of storage.” Epiphany offered.
“And when is that?”
“Probably next week, once he’s done fixing up the basement for me and Keisha,” Epiphany answered.
“Shit, I can’t wait that long.”
“So, what you gonna do, huh? Tell him we told you?” asked Epiphany.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do, but I know I ain’t gon’ be able to hold this shit in for a week,” replied Shana.
“See, that’s some bullshit. We look out for you and you gonna tell the nigga. If it was meant to go down like that, I wouldn’t have paid the cameraman fifty dollars,” Epiphany complained.
“Yo, I’ll give you your fifty dollars back. That’s not a problem,” Shana said.
“You’re right. The money ain’t the problem. It’s your fucking mouth,” said Epiphany.
“Fuck you, Epiphany. Don’t tell me shit next time,” yelled Shana.
“Fuck you, too. I won’t. Believe that.”
“Come on, you guys. This ain’t necessary—and Shana, Epiphany is right this time. It ain’t cool for you to rat us out like that and have your man hating on us,” Keisha explained.
“So what am I supposed to do, go out and buy a computer just so I can confront his ass?” Shana said sarcastically.
“No, we can go to Kinko’s and use their Internet access,” Keisha suggested.
“That’ll work, but why didn’t you suggest that in the first place?” Shana asked.
“Because I just thought about it while you and Epiphany were going at it. Now, can you two apologize, please?” said Keisha.
“I’m sorry, E,” Shana said nonchalantly.
“Whatever. Just get me my fifty bucks,” said Epiphany, still wanting to hold a grudge.
“Yo, Keish, you see what I mean? Fuck that bi—”
Before she could finish, Keisha took the phone off speaker and picked up the receiver, while Shana continued to express how she felt about Epiphany.
“Shana, just come and get me, all right? I don’t have my car,” said Keisha, changing the subject and calming Shana down.
“A’ight, I’m on my way,” said Shana.
* * *
When Shana arrived, she called Keisha on her cell to let her know she was out front.
“Hey, E, I’ll be back. Shana’s out front,” Keisha said.
“Yeah, a’ight. Get my money from that bitch, please,” Epiphany replied.
“Uh-huh.” Keisha walked out, shaking her head, not able to understand why the two of them just couldn’t get along.
* * *
Once Keisha left, Epiphany went outside and sat on the stoop of her parents’ house, which was something she hadn’t done since she was a kid. It had to be about ninety degrees out. The sun was blazing. As she watched the kids on the corner running in and out of the fire hydrant, laughing, playing, and having a good time while trying to stay cool, she remembered some things. This time, it was clear.
She could recall taking a home pregnancy test and it being positive, the pain she felt from all his kicks and punches, but most importantly she could remember his face.
“It was C-God,” she mumbled as her memory confirmed the beliefs of her father and Keisha.
Epiphany felt awful. It just didn’t make sense to her at all, and there was still a lot of information missing.
Why did he try to kill me? she thought. Was it because I found out I was pregnant? Or maybe it was Mali’s baby. No, Keisha said I stopped seeing Malikai months ago. So maybe I wasn’t really—
The ring of her cell phone broke her heavy train of thought. It was someone calling from a 323 area code.
Where the fuck is 323?
“Hello?” Epiphany answered.
“What up, beautiful?” said the man’s voice.
“You got the beautiful part right, but who is this?” she responded.
“Damn, ma, you forgot about me already, huh? It’s Wild. How you doing?”
“Oh, hey, I’m good. I thought you forgot about me.”
“Nah, never that. I just been tied up out here in L.A., trying to blaze some tracks, that’s all.”
“Oh, so when you coming back to NY?”
“I’m flying in tonight, late night, but I was hoping we could get together sometime tomorrow.”
“Well, call me tomorrow and I’ll let you know.” Epiphany didn’t want to seem as anxious as she really was.
“Oh, you’ll let me know, huh? Why you can’t just say yeah now?”
“Because I’m gonna be kind of busy tomorrow. I don’t wanna commit to anything now and then have to disappoint you later. You know what I’m saying? It’s called having consideration,” Epiphany said with sarcasm.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, early, so we could spend all day and night together. A’ight, shorty?” Wild disregarded her weak excuse.
His confidence turned her on and brought a smile to her face. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye”
Wild’s call had completely taken her mind off of her revelations—well, maybe not completely, but Epiphany was starting to feel like the more she remembered about her past and its horrid details, the less she wanted to remember.
Maybe it’s best to just put it all behind me. Besides, no one has seen or heard from C-God anyway.
Chapter 74
Once Shana dropped Keisha back off at Epiphany’s parents’ house, she went home and waited impatiently for K.C. to get his ass home. She sat on the couch, staring at the glossy Kodak print of him all over some high yellow bitch who looked like she might have been cute if she didn’t suffer from a severe case of acne. She was ticked off, but the funny thing about the whole situation was that she already had a gut feeling that he was fucking around on her. If that wasn’t enough evidence, her suffering from dick deprivation should have been another clue. It seemed like the only time he wanted to fuck her was when she wanted to argue about his bullshit behavior. Shana wasn’t happy. K.C. was obviously doing him, the bitch in the photo, and whoever else he was out there screwing, but it certainly wasn’t her.
I can’t believe I’m still paying that muthafucka Smitty. For what? To keep a dumb little secret from a nigga that don’t even want to be kept.
Just as that thought ran through Shana’s mind, she heard K.C.’s keys rattling at the door. Quickly, she laid the photo down right in front of her on the coffee table, just to see how long it would take him to notice it.
When he walked in, he wasn’t alone. Smitty trailed in right behind him. Instantly, her attitude got worse. Sucking her teeth, she snatched up the picture, not wanting Smitty all up in their business, although he most likely knew way more dirt than she could ever imagine.
“What up, Sha?” K.C. said as he placed his car keys and cell phone down on the coffee table, right in the same spot as the photo.
“I need to talk to you, but I see you got your shadow with you,” Shana said, giving K.C. the head movement and eye-rolling treatment.
“Well, hello to you to, Sha,” Smitty said to further aggravate her.
Shana just rolled her eyes again and waited for K.C.’s response.
“Yeah, so can’t it wait?” K.C. asked.
“No, it can’t fucking wait. I’m tired of being put on hold for this muthafucka,” she said, pointing at Smitty. �
�So either you excuse him, or I’ll say what the fuck I gotta say right in front of him.”
“Yo, Smitty, you see what the fuck I gotta deal with all the time? Yo, I’m telling you, a nigga be trying to keep from fucking a bitch up,” K.C. said, feeling like Shana was trying to punk him in front of his boy. His nose began to flare, and he balled his fist tightly, trying to compose his anger.
“Yeah, nigga, I feel you, but yo, I’m out. You need to get that shit under wraps, dawg, ’cause word up, she stay with an attitude.” Smitty added his two cents as usual.
“I’ma handle this, but just hit me later,” K.C. said.
“Who the fuck is this bitch, huh?” Shana raised her voice as soon as he shut the door behind Smitty. Waving the photo in K.C.’s face, she demanded an answer. “Yeah, muthafucka you busted.”
K.C. looked closely at the picture and laughed. “Where you get that from? I don’t know who she is, and that ain’t me.”
“You’se a lying ass. So, that’s how you gon’ go out, huh? You can’t even be a man and admit the shit you do. Who is she, K.C.?”
“Yo, I’m out, man, because you be bugging the fuck out, and I’m telling you, you gon’ make me fuck you up.” K.C. reached for his car keys on the table.
Shana made a quick dash for the keys, along with his cell phone, and hauled ass to the bedroom, locking the door behind her.
“Now, muthafucka, you wanna play games? Let’s play games. You ain’t going no-fucking-where. I got your phone and your key, so if you want your shit back, you better start confessing, nigga,” Shana yelled from the other side of the door while trying to catch her breath from that Olympic sprint she’d just made.
“Bitch, don’t fuck with me. Open the door and give me my shit,” K.C. shouted as he tried to kick down the door. “Yo, wait ’til I open this door, Shana. I’ma—” K.C. had to catch his breath. “Yo, I think you be wanting a nigga to fuck you up. You like that shit, huh? Open this fucking door!”
Shana ignored his threats and continued to question the girl’s identity, while he stood on the other side of the bedroom door, trying to figure out a way to pick the lock or bust through it. Inside, she prayed hard that the door would not give way.
“Let me see . . . Kiana. Who the fuck is Kiana? Latrell, Meeka, Valerie . . .” Shana called out each female’s name as she scrolled down and deleted them out of his phone, one by one. “Just tell me who this chick in the picture is. I see you’ve been real busy lately, but where was all these hoes at when your ass was locked up, huh? I can’t do this shit no more, K.C.!” Shana screamed.
“Ahhh, come on, Sha.” K.C. showed a little compassion for her feelings. “Listen, Sha, them bitches don’t mean shit to me, a’ight. I’ll admit, occasionally I might fuck around on you, but that shit don’t mean that I don’t love you. You just need to understand that I was married to this drug game shit, the streets, and everything in it, long before you, and on the real, those are the only things I know how to be committed to. The streets ain’t never going nowhere, and ’cause of that, a nigga like me gon’ always get paper.”
“K.C., what does all of that have to do with you fucking around on me?”
“Sha, didn’t I just say I don’t give a fuck about those bitches? They just hoes that come along with the game. I made you my wife, but you need to accept me for the nigga I am and the fucked-up shit I do, because at the end of the day, I’m coming home to you. Yeah, I fucked up the other night, but I was out all night handling business. Sha, you held me down when I was fucked up, so I ain’t gon’ never play you. Now open the door.”
“K.C., I’m not gonna open the door until you tell me who this girl is.”
“Yo, are you hearing what I said to you? She ain’t nobody, Sha, so stop dwelling on that ho and open the door. Come on, yo, I ain’t gonna do nothing to you. I just wanna chill with you, a’ight? Open the door.”
Shana unlocked the door and slowly backed away from it, just in case he came in swinging. Fortunately for Shana, K.C. had already gotten over being mad thirty minutes ago. Besides, the number one rule in the players manual is to always treat the one you love better than the hoes you fuck. He knew that in order to keep the peace, he had to take care of home first, and he hadn’t been holding down that part. So, for the rest of the evening, he did some serious making up, in hopes that Shana would get off his back for a while.
Chapter 75
“Yo, how I get to you?” Wild said as soon a Epiphany picked up her cell phone.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Epiphany said as she glanced over at the clock, which read 9:00 a.m.
“Oh, my bad. Hello, pretty. Now how do I get to you once I hit Queens?”
Epiphany smiled, liking his persistence, and gave him directions.
“A’ight, I should be there in like forty-five minutes, and bring a few things, just in case I decide to kidnap you for a couple of days.”
“Okay, I’ll see you when you get here.” After ending the call, Epiphany excitedly jumped out of bed to search through her many clothes for the right outfits to pack. She decided to wear her hot pink Roberto Cavalli sundress, along with her Prada sandals and matching purse. She packed three other cute outfits that showed expensive taste, class, and style, because by no means did she want him to think she was anything less than fabulous.
Keisha was awakened by the noise Epiphany made as she rushed to get herself together.
“Girl, where you going?” she asked.
“Oh, remember the guy that I was chillin’ with at Suede, the producer I told you about?”
“Yeah,” Keisha said.
“Well, I’ll be with him for a couple of days,” answered Epiphany.
“I hear that. Have fun. I got me a date tonight too,” boasted Keisha.
“Get out! You mean to tell me that you finally decided to move on? With who?”
“With this guy I met at Kinko’s yesterday with Shana.”
“He works in Kinko’s?” Epiphany said, not even trying to hide her disgust.
“No, he repairs computers for Kinko’s. Anyway, I don’t care where he works, just as long as he works, because I think I’m done with drug dealers.”
“I hear that. To each his own. Anyway, what’s his name?”
“His name is Rob. He’s a cutie.”
“Well, good for you, Keish. You need to get out and have some fun, make sure that nigga spends his paycheck. Let me go shower before Wild gets here.” Epiphany was happy for her friend but abruptly ended their conversation, running to the bathroom to freshen up.
Wild pulled in front of Epiphany’s parents’ crib and phoned her to come outside. When she reached the front door, she fell in love with his sparkling silver Hummer—not the affordable Hummer H2. This was the real deal.
“What’s up, sexy? Don’t I get a kiss?” asked Wild as he held the car door open for her.
“Nah, I don’t kiss on the first date.” Epiphany laughed.
“I respect that.”
“Good.” Epiphany played it cool, but in her mind she was screaming, Fuck a kiss! I’m gonna fuck the shit out of this nigga.
Once they crossed over the George Washington Bridge heading toward Route 4, Wild phoned his cook and told him to start preparing breakfast for two.
“You like omelets?” he asked.
“Yeah, they’re all right,” Epiphany answered.
“Well, my chef Idris makes some banging-ass omelets. You’ll love ’em.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a tall black gate that Wild opened with a little remote. Epiphany was still trying to get over the fact that he had a chef when he pulled into a four car garage next to a convertible black Bentley.
This is so beautiful, she thought as she looked around the grounds. He got out of the driver’s side and rushed over to open the car door for her again. He was being the perfect gentleman. His $2.5 million, eight-bedroom house was located in ultra chic Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey, and came equipped with an in-ground swimming pool, sauna
, a huge patio, and a basketball court. Indoors were a gym, a small movie theater, a recording studio, and a game room.
Epiphany had to admit that this was far more impressive than any nice car or house she’d ever seen in her life. This was the type of lifestyle she felt she was born to live. She was tired of dealing with the small-time hustlers in the hood, who were satisfied with the minimum—a little bit of jewelry, a hot ride, fifty grand stashed in an old sneaker box, and a laced-out apartment in the projects, thinking life is sweet. She wanted to live like a celebrity, and if she played her cards right, Mr. Producer Man could be her ticket out of the ghetto.
He escorted her straight to the kitchen for the best breakfast she had ever had. After breakfast, Wild gave Epiphany a personal tour.
This house is definitely made for MTV Cribs, she thought as they entered the master bedroom. It had a brick fireplace, a king size bed with plush feathered pillows, and a matching cream-colored comforter. The bathroom was all marble, with an oval-shaped Jacuzzi and attached shower. His walk-in closet was bigger than the bedroom in Epiphany’s old apartment, and being the fashion fanatic that she was, she couldn’t help but take a look inside. According to her, you could tell a lot about a person from his or her style of dress.
She couldn’t help but hum the tune “Why Don’t We Fall in Love” by Amerie. Why not? He had everything she wanted.
Chapter 76
Ness, Smitty, and K.C. were doing the damn thing, making money in the hood. Since other niggas had no real weight in the streets, it was easy. Lately, however, problems were occurring in their own circle.
Smitty had started to feel like Ness was getting beside himself on some real control shit. He kept quiet for a minute, letting the nigga run wild with it, and assumed that maybe it was just a power trip. Ness had never been in a position to call the shots. Smitty decided to let him have his fun before he’d pump his brakes—only Ness was on some Nino Brown–type shit. All of a sudden, the streets were his. He made all the decisions, gave the orders, handled most of the money, and was reckless with his mouth and his decisions.