Coldhearted & Crazy

by Michel Moore

  “Oh my God! What happened, Amber? What happened?” London cringed at the sight of her friend and started to cry.

  Kenya couldn’t do anything but stand mute and let her sister get that shit out. When she first saw Amber tricking in the alley, she was shocked too. That pipe had taken complete control over Amber’s young life and was now running things.

  Amber glanced over at London and then focused her eyes toward the litter-filled ground. All she could do was be ashamed. She kicked her dingy and battered shoes against the curb as she tried explaining her new life to London. “After you left, I started hanging with Chuck and ’em. One night we was drinking and I decided to just try a little. I swear I can stop, girl!” Of course, Amber was lying to London and herself; she was too far gone to stop just like that.

  “Well, okay then, walk back to the house with us!” London pleaded repeatedly. “Let me get you some help!” She wanted to put her arms around her best friend and reassure her that everything would be all right, but between the terrible smell and the open sores on Amber’s face, London couldn’t bring herself to do it. Amber was too far gone on that glass pipe to be turned around, at least not today. She and the drug were in a committed monogamous relationship, deeper than any marriage.

  “I’ll be around there later, I promise.” Amber licked her dry, cracked lips as she tried to fix her hair. At this point she was telling London anything that popped into her mind because that ten dollars she had just sucked dick for in the vacant house was calling her to get a rock. Amber looked at London one last time, embarrassed, as she started to cry, and ran off down the street to get high.

  “Kenya, I can’t believe that mess. Why didn’t you warn me?”

  “Girl, what you want me to say?” Kenya was giving her sister a look that would kill. “That your friend is a li’l crack ho? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

  London openly sobbed, trying to get some answers. “Why didn’t you try to help her Kenya? Huh? Why?”

  “Now wait! Hold the fuck up, don’t get it twisted. That’s your girl, not mine! I don’t have time to be chasing a head all around town! Plus, oh yeah, I heard what you said, and don’t be having her all up in my fucking house!”

  “Kenya, how can you say that? She needs help. And don’t forget, it’s half my house too!” she replied, feisty.

  “Well, okay then, when we get home, take a good look around, London. Everything that’s worth stealing in that son of a bitch is mine, so fuck the dumb shit and recognize! That crack ho ain’t never stepping foot in that motherfucker, so you can take that shit how you want it, half yours or not!”

  Over the next few days that followed the twin’s reunion, they realized just how much the two had changed. London had stepped her game up and now was a vocal leader around campus. She was about to branch out and help start an organization that would target the problems of black youths in school who had come from drug-addicted households. Seeing people being messed up by drugs, and now Amber, was eating away at her. Whether or not Kenya wanted to admit it, drugs had killed both their parents, leaving them orphans.

  “After I saw Amber the other day, I made up my mind that it was time. I’ve put this off long enough. It needs to stop.” London was up on her soapbox again as Kenya tried her best to ignore her.

  “Dang, girl, stop all that loud talking!” Kenya was tired of her sister being all caught up in her feelings. “I know what you’re saying and all and I’m proud of you for real, but damn why you gotta be so high-pitched and shit? Shut the fuck up, damn!”

  “I’m sorry, I just can’t understand what made Amber go that way. Your boy Allan grew up with his mother using drugs and made the decision to not follow in her footsteps.”

  “Well, that’s life in the big city, London.” Kenya walked to the kitchen and looked in the empty fridge. “Let’s go out to breakfast.”

  “All right, let’s go,” London easily agreed, and thought that she would try to press her luck. “Why don’t we go see if Amber wants to go? Maybe we could talk to her.”

  “Listen here, girl, we fam and all, but you bugging if think her ruthless behind is rolling out with me! She smells like something crawled up in her ass and died! Come on now, London, be for real! Do you really think I’m going out like that?” Kenya laughed at her sister. “Girl, ain’t no stopping a head!”

  London knew her twin was right, only on the fact that Amber would feel out of place. “Well, all right then, I’m ready.” London knew better than to try to change her sister’s mind.

  The girls jumped in Kenya’s car and rode about ten minutes before they reached the Black Bottom Cafe. It served the best breakfast around the D and at night it turned into a showcase where folks could show off their poetry skills. After a short wait to get a table, the girls were seated near the back in a booth. They checked out the menu as the waitress brought London the cup of coffee that she ordered as soon as they sat down.

  Kenya was the first to really bring up their beloved Gran. They both seemed to avoid any real deep conversations about her so, they wouldn’t cry. “I see Gran still got that ass drinking coffee.” Kenya was shaking her head, placing the menu on the table.

  London grinned, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, I drink it like water.”

  “I’m glad you came home, London. I need to talk to you about a few things. I have felt this way for a couple of months, but didn’t know how to bring it up.”

  “What is it? We’re sisters, we shouldn’t keep secrets.” London put her cup down and waited for her twin to speak.

  “Well . . .” Kenya looked in her sister’s eyes. “I think we should try to sell the house.”

  “What house? Gran’s house? Are you crazy?”

  “You mean our house, London. Gran is gone!” Kenya blurted out with no remorse for her sister’s feelings. “It’s ours, London, you and me.”

  “I know she’s gone, but damn, she worked hard to keep that house!” London was now slightly raising her voice.

  “I know, but it’s so big!” Kenya pouted as she folded her arms and continued, “Big and lonely. You’re at school. You’re gone, living your life. I gotta keep that bitch clean. I’m the one who has to keep the snow shoveled, the grass cut, and leaves raked. Pay all the utilities.”

  “Look, I understand what you’re saying, but that’s our childhood in that house,” London insisted, hoping to change her twin’s mind.

  Kenya was tired of all that back-and-forth bullshit. She was the only one holding that house down. She was going to come at London with the only thing that she seemed to now understand and embrace: struggle.

  “First of all, London, the taxes and the water bill are due this month. You got half? Next, the homeowners insurance; once again, do you got half on that? And then, sorry, I had almost forgotten about the heating and light bill that are being shut off. Let me get out a pencil and paper and total your part.” Kenya was pissed by that point and was now raising her voice.

  London was totally thrown off by her sister’s callous outbreak. She totally was speechless.

  Kenya didn’t let up. “You see the neighborhood, London. You see how it’s changing. Even your own girl, Amber, is setting people up. Go ask Old Mr. Phelps. He’ll tell you! Shiiit. How you gonna carry it, London? Stop chasing a dead dream. Our hood is off the fuckin’ hook. These fools out here ain’t playing no more little kiddie games! They playing hardball!”

  London knew her twin was telling the truth about the state of the neighborhood, and even Amber; although, she still knew that Gran wouldn’t want the house sold to strangers. “You know I need all my money to pay for extra school expenses next year. Kenya, I can’t spend it!”

  “Oh, I get it, so you think it’s all right for me to spend all of my damn money? Well news flash: the money Gran left me is gone. And now I gotta get mines how I live. I hustle, London. I live day by day, no doubt. Some nights, I’m scared to come home to my own house because of the damn crime, so fuck what you talking about.”

/>   London got her thoughts together and finally spoke. “Listen, Kenya, just let me think about it. Let’s just eat our breakfast and talk more about it at home.”

  “I’m sorry that I threw you off your square, but I don’t know what else to do. You know I got love for you.” Kenya and London smiled at one another and decided to change the subject. That one had run its course for the moment.

  When the waitress brought the bill to the table both girls reached for it at the same time. “Let me get that. I know how you ‘need’ your money.” Kenya laughed as she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

  London watched her sister walk through the restaurant like she owned the place. Some things never change! London thought.

  “Hey, Tastey, I missed you last night, with your fine self. You know how I get when I can’t get a ‘taste’!” A strange guy appeared at the table. The man was leaning all in London’s inner space. “Here, baby, let me take care of your bill.” He pulled out a wad of cash and peeled off three twenty dollar bills. “I’ll see you this weekend, baby.” He made sure to touch her hand when he put the cash on the table. London had a flashback of Professor Kincade and was in a frozen trance. He then smiled and went back to the other side of the room to sit with his friends, who were all staring.

  Kenya returned to the table, putting lotion on her hands. She saw the money on the table and shook her head at London. “Listen, Ms. Goody-Goody, I told you I had it,” she said, and slid the loot back over to her.

  “I didn’t pay for it, Tastey!” London rolled her eyes. Kenya immediately looked puzzled when she heard her sister call her by her stage name. “Some guy over there thought I was you, or should I say ‘Tastey,’ and paid for it.” London pointed toward the group of desperate-looking men.

  Kenya just shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head at them. “It’s all part of the game! Life in the hood! Some of us can’t escape!”

  It was then that London decided to agree to put the house up for sale. She didn’t want her sister to have to live right in the mix. Even as soft as everyone thought she was, she knew that you didn’t shit where you slept.

  Chapter Ten

  Tastey

  It had been a little over a month since the girls parted ways. They decided that over the summer they would indeed sell the house, and started to pack up most the stuff they wanted to keep. London would be home from school then and would have time to spare. Kenya was spending a lot of time at work. Being both Kenya at home and Tastey at work would sometimes get confusing. Kenya was now starting to turn into her stage name even at home. She was living and breathing the club and all the club life had to offer. It seemed like her government name was starting to become almost nonexistent.

  “Hey, Zack, what’s good?” Tastey was in great spirits and it showed.

  “You, baby, you know that,” he replied with his normal charm and swag.

  “Look, I need to talk to you later.” Tastey had a game plan in mind. “But, I gotta make this paper right now. One of my regular customers just came in and I don’t want to keep his trick-ass waiting.”

  “Do you, baby girl. I’ll be posted here all night.” He loved to see her in action, getting that dough. Tastey made his club outshine all the others in the city. Zack was glad that she wanted to talk to him. All about a scheme, he also had a few things to discuss with her as well. He wanted to first run his thoughts by Old Skool and see what she thought he should do. A friend and confidante to all the dancers, she would know the right way to come at Tastey concerning his proposition. He knew that the young girl was a little streetwise, but was she street ready?

  “Hey, darling, you needed me?” Old Skool came out of the dressing room as soon as she got the message that Zack wanted to speak with her.

  “Yeah, I need to see what you think about that shit we talked about last month.” Zack leaned back on the barstool.

  “What shit? You know a bitch catching years!” Both her and Zack laughed she looked deeply in his eyes. They went back, way back, when Old Skool was considered “young game.”

  “I’m talking about that traveling thang, remember?”

  “Oh yeah, that. I’m with that! I think Tastey would be able to pull the shit off. Matter of fact she’s perfect. Raven is still a little green. Plus, she has a son and might not be able to roll that easy.” Old Skool always thought ahead when planning anything.

  “Well, I’m trying to figure out how to break on her without scaring her or running her out the club, you dig? She’s my best moneymaker in here. Tastey makes all the other girls hustle more.” Zack was in full scheme mode at this point.

  “Yeah, you right, but I think she’s trying to save money to get her an apartment anyhow. I think the crib where she lives at now is going to be sold soon. I overheard her and Raven talking.”

  Not only didn’t Old Skool or Zack know that she had a twin sister, they had no idea she owned a house as well. They thought she was just another dancer renting a spot. They were used to all young girls who danced having nothing, not a pot to piss in nor a window to throw it out of. Tastey was different and Zack thought back to the day they first met. That’s why he had to come at her just right to avoid her possibly going ham.

  “You know what? I think I’m just gonna be real and take my chances. The game is served cold, like a bowl of ice cream, and I’m gonna give it to her just like that.” Zack was on the money trail. His last hook up had been fucking up on the count and that just wouldn’t do in his shady world.

  Old Skool listened and was in total agreement with Zack. She watched Tastey from across the room while she was giving one of her regulars a lap dance. “She has game, I’ll give her that much.”

  Game Face On!

  “Damn, baby, you like that? Tell me you like how all this ass feels on your dick.” Tastey was spitting game on Shawn. He was one of her regulars. “Oh, daddy, your dick is so hard. Is all that for me?” Grinning all in his face, the young temptress was careful to keep her eyes glued on him, knowing eye contact would keep him hypnotized. His manhood was rock hard so Tastey knew to ease up on the grinding. She didn’t want him to bust a nut on himself. Well, not at least ’til she got four or five dances from him. At twenty dollars a pop that would be at least a hundred. By the time the fifth song was beginning, Ms. Tastey decided to let loose on him. She knew he was about at his spending limit and wanted to make sure that he was satisfied with the dance. She never wanted to make a customer of hers have to get another girl for a good time. “Please, let me turn around and ride you, daddy!” She was licking her lips. “I want you to watch me cum on that big black dick!”

  Shawn was all in as he grabbed a hold of Tastey’s waist. “Yeah, that’s it, make daddy cum!” was all he could get out his mouth before Tastey filled his face with her breasts. She was moving back and forth and talking cash shit in his ear.

  Brother Rasul was keeping a watchful eye, just in case she or any of the other girls needed him. Some of the dudes would sometimes get too excited and take the fantasy a little too far. That’s when he would step in and try to damn near snap their necks. After a few more seconds, the song was over and Shawn had a huge smile on his face. He finished his drink and told Tastey that he would see her later on in the week. She really liked Shawn and secretly wished that it was her who was on the picture in his wallet, the one with his wife and baby. As she was trying to make it back into the dressing room to freshen up and change her outfit, a familiar hand reached from nowhere, grabbing out for her arm.

  “Damn, motherfucker, what the fuck . . . ?” Before she could finish her sentence she realized that it was Ty. She hadn’t really spoken to him since the night she started working at the club. He’d called, leaving a few threatening messages about her owing him for putting her on, but that didn’t stop her from getting her money.

  “Oh, I guess you just said fuck me and shit. It’s like that? You dirty, rotten bitch!” Ty was drunk and slurring his words. “I’m the one who put your cum-catchin’-ass on in th
is motherfucker. You owe me. Why don’t you come over here and give a nigga some of that famous head I’ve been missing out on?”

  “Oh, you trying it! Listen, Ty, I don’t owe you jack shit. You got me all the way twisted in this piece!” Tastey was pissed and aggravated as she put him in his place. “And don’t come all up in my job trying to front!”

  “Oh, wow it’s like that? You a beast now, right?” He was on the nut and about to try to cuff her up by her throat, when out of nowhere a huge arm wrapped around his neck. Brother Rasul was choking the dog shit out of Ty as he struggled unsuccessfully to breathe. He was turning beet red and tears were flowing out both eyes. Zack, seeing the commotion, came running over just as Ty was getting skull drug out the door. “I was just . . .”

  Ty couldn’t get his explanation out good before Zack also started in on him. “Let me show you how real D-town ballers ball!” Zack reached under his shirt and pulled out a shiny black nine. He put one up top and put the gun in Ty’s mouth. “Pay attention, Tastey or Kenya or whatever you choose to call her is family up here, all right! If you ever fucking choose to disturb her well-being again, I’ll blow your dental out the back of your neck! Now get the fuck out my club before you get me all the way off my square. That’s my word! We clear?”

  Zack stuffed his gun back in his rear waistband and left Brother Rasul and the rest of the bouncers to do their thang. Tastey was feeling somewhat bad for Ty, but she felt strangely loved by Zack and the rest of her club family and felt a sense of loyalty to them for coming to her aid.

  Old Skool, wanting to put her two cents in the mix, came in the dressing room and wanted to know if she was okay. “Hey, girl. You good or what?” She rubbed sympathetically on the young girl’s back.

  “Yeah, I just hate when someone tries to put a bitch’s business all up in the street. It’s all good though. I ain’t tripping on it though.”