A Project Chick
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Triple Crown Publications Presents A PROJECT CHICK
never went off on nobody. But a pipe can't take but so much steam before it bursts.
Tressa grabbed her car keys and went over to Dutchess house. She began banging on the door like she was the police coming to raid the house.
"Open up the damn door! You made your bed now lie in it!" Tressa continued to bang on the door and screamed at the top of her lungs. "I know ya punk ass ain't going to answer the door, same as you'd rather jump out the window and get burnt up than face me." It never dawned on Tressa that Lucky had already called Dutchess to warn her that the cat was out of the bag.
Tressa kicked the door and the door didn't budge.
Dutchess still never answered. For some reason, the neighbors never came outside to look. Maybe it was because Dutchess always has something going on at her house, so they were used to these types of behavior.
Tressa was still in a fury. On her way home, she passed a paint shop and a bright idea popped into her head. She purchased some cans of spray paint and went back over to Dutchess' house with a stepladder. Tressa waited until every light on the block was off and spray painted in black paint, "Bitch, Whore, Slut, Backstabber", all over the freshly painted white aluminum siding on Dutchess' house.
After doing this, she felt better. Payback is a bitch!
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-20-
The Breaking Point
Two weeks later, she began to look through the mail and there was a letter from the rental office and one from her brother. She knew her brother would have something positive and motivating to say, so she thought about saving that for last. She changed her mind and decided to read her brother's letter first.
Peace Sugar Gal,
First off, let me say I love you more than life
itself. Can you try calling MCI to get the block off your
phone? I know they probably placed it there because
you haven't paid the bill, but see what you can do. I
need to talk to you. I know things are tight for you. I
really wish I wasn't on this racist-ass plantation,
because I would damn sure send you some money to
help you out. But don't worry, I have only a couple
more years and I will be home shortly. All your
worries will be washed away. I promise.
I got a letter from that hoe Dutchess. I told you
a long time ago that hoe was not your friend and you
never listen when I tell you about people. Don't you
know that hoe had the nerve to write me and tell me
that she wants me to talk to you about her fucking
that no good snake Lucky! She tried to act like she
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was so concerned about you getting into trouble
because you fucked up her house. But I know she
scared as hell. She is shaking in her boots, and
rightfully so! I laughed so hard when I read the part
of the letter that you spray-painted her house. You are
gangster!
I ripped that letter up and sent it right back to
her. I am not speaking on her behalf. Sugar, all I'm
saying is, don't get into no trouble behind those two
cruddy suckers. They're not worth it, the boys need
you out there, not behind bars. Don't worry, they'll get
theirs in the end. I promise!
Write me back ASAP! I love you and give my love
to the boys!
Love, Taj
Tressa was furious, but all she could do was shake her head. This winch Dutchess is crazy! Now, why would she tell my brother? Like he can control me. I'm a grown ass woman and that only makes me want to whip her ass even more. I had made up my mind that I was going to leave it alone. But some people won't let sleeping dogs lie. I can't wait until I see her.
She was certain the rental office was simply writing to address something negative. She was right. The lady who had just moved in under her, told the rental office that the twins are making too much noise over her.
Whatever! I have more important things to worry about! They always writing about B/S, they never ever address the real issues. People are getting murdered right on our playgrounds where our children play, and not to mention, the selling of the narcotics right at our doorsteps. All these things clearly go on everyday, and they got the nerve to send me a letter about this crap!
Come to think of it, this broad downstairs looks in my face everyday, and still decides to go to the rental office and complain. Instead, she could have simply came upstairs and asked me to keep it down. She don't have a problem sending one of her begging ass kids to my house to borrow some eggs, sugar or Kool Aid. I mean, what do she expect? She lives in apartment, not a house and I have kids. But then 182
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again, she doesn't even have any furniture in her apartment, so I'm sure it's really hollow in there and she can hear everything. Shoot, it's not my fault she can't afford furniture!
Taking all these things into consideration, she felt conquered, and overturned like everything in her life was going down hill. Every single person in her life that she even cared about had deceived her or let her down. Her mother and brother both went to jail, and left her out here to fend for herself. Her mother later committed suicide.
The men she chose, Lucky, Jacko and Mr. Bill, and allowed in her life, were all poor choices. At first, all kinds of things ran through her head, like maybe somebody put a curse or a root on her. Then she thought about, maybe, she was being punished for going against her brother's wishes and dating Lucky. The final thought was, maybe God was punishing her for having her children out of wedlock and for all the other sins she'd committed. Tressa was about to crack the fuck up!
The girlfriends that she selected, whom she played fair with, crossed her every chance they could and she did not know why. Her only thoughts were when was Lucky going to take Missy and Wiggles away from her too?
(One Year Passed) Now 1996:
After the three past experiences with the men she choose, Tressa became bitter towards men. She withdrew from dealing with any man, and she didn't allow any new people into her life. She was also certain she'd never be in a close relationship with a woman again, that was not even an option.
Although there was nothing that could replace a warm body in her bed at night, Tressa learned to improvise when it came to her sexual needs. Like numerous women, even those afraid to admit it, she settled for vibrators. The
"Rabbit", the "Butterfly", the "Penguin", and she couldn't forget about old faithful, the "Penis Pleaser!" filled her lonely nights. She reasoned with herself that self-pleasure was the way to go, to try and ease the pain of being alone.
Tressa accepted the fact that she was going to be alone, just she and the boys.
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I'll be A-OK. Well, at least I don't have to worry about a man not doing his job properly, and not being able to make me cum or to the dick going down. I control the size, width and shape, and how many times a night I want to cum.
Furthermore, I don't have to worry about any man cheating on me or another girl sitting on my man's dick when I leave to go to work, cause see, I own that. It'll still be sitting in the closet waiting on me to return and give it some action. So, whether I work it everyday or once a month, as long as I have some fresh batteries, I'll be A-OK!
Tressa's new focus became to rise above the poverty stricken life that she had accepted for the past two years.
She knew things happened for a reason. She just had a feeling she had put in her dues, and now it was her season to come up.
Her pity party was over. She decided that she'd have to accept a few things. One, that it was not meant for her to have companionship! Two, that Lucky would never step up to the plate and be the father that she so yearned for him to be for her children. Although there were some things that she couldn't teach her boys, she'd do the best she could. Her whole life revolved around her boys. She participated in every activity she could with them.
She worked on building a better life for her boys and threw herself into their lives. She put them in karate lessons, and all her spare time revolved around her boys.
She picked up a second job and didn't report it to the rental office. With the monies she made from the second job, she sacrificed and put it in a savings account that she didn't touch. This was going to be her way up out of Eastgate Village. Whenever her children were gone for the weekend, she didn't hang out, instead she worked. Wiggles pretended she had a part time job, but really she was selling weed.
She only sold fifty-dollar bags or better to help Tressa move out of the hood. Wiggles rolled the money in. Everybody knows that there is no better hustler than an ex-crack head or drug addict. Even after they no longer have their addiction, the hustle is still instilled in them, since their habit depended on it when they were using. So, as sober as Wiggles had been for the past three years, she still had the hustle in her that once satisfied her addiction.
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Tressa on the other hand, wasn't any drug hustler, but she too came across a hustle that she liked too, the
"Bootlegg" hustle. She begin catching the Greyhound bus up to New York. Carrying only a small bag with her toothbrush, toothpaste, cash, her ID, and a pillow, she'd hop on the bus that left Richmond late at night, so she'd arrive in New York City at 8 a.m. Her routine was the same, she'd leave her pillow on the Greyhound, to her it was worth it to leave the $5.00 pillow. She'd stop by the bathroom in Port Authority to freshen up. Then go to have a small bagel and a cup of coffee. By this time, China Town and the garment district would be open and she'd make deals all day for the Coach bags and other knock off items.
This was back in 1996 when Versace, Gucci, Coogi and Fendi was hitting Richmond's fashion scene hard, so these things were in big demand. At this time the closest place the divas and dons could go to get these items were Northern Virginia/DC areas, which were about two hours away. A few people did take that two hour drive, but most didn't. So, Tressa brought these things to Richmond and a real bankroll it brought to her.
Tressa, unlike other bootleg artists, she told the people that her things were imitation. A few other people did it in the town, but they lied and told people that their products were the "real deal". She could have easily gotten over on the same people, but bridges were not what she was trying to burn. She wasn't trying to beat anybody over the head with her prices. She was just trying to make her money back and get a profit out of the deal. For instance, she'd buy Gucci shades and would pay $5-7.00 per pair, and come back and sell them for $30-40.00 a piece, or Coach watches for $7-10.00, and come back and sell them for $30.00. Tressa was making more money in a week then she made on both her jobs combined in a month. The part time job she dropped almost instantly, but the first job she kept because she knew if she wanted to get a house it would be so much better with legitimate employment.
Tressa ran into Calvin from back at the University and he now owned a lot of property. Sometimes it isn't what you know, it's who you know. He introduced her to some government programs, and before too long, Tressa was able to move into a three-bedroom house, nothing too fancy, but 185
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it was hers. She was uncertain when this time would come, but her freedom was finally here. The day Tressa moved out of the projects, a lot of thoughts were going through her mind. She was grateful for two things, that she didn't have to live in such a degrading environment, and that the experience made her a much stronger person than she was when she went in.
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-21-
The Clown
Tressa had been around the house all day cleaning, until Missy called and asked Tressa to give her a ride because her car was in the shop. Tressa didn't hesitate to say yes.
Tressa was wearing her black Calvin Klein faded jeans that she would never, under normal circumstances, do anything else in, but clean her house or wash her car.
On top, she had on a gray, black and red Calvin Klein T-shirt that she had tied in a knot in the back exposing her flat stomach. She pulled her long ponytail through the buckle on the back of her baseball cap. She couldn't dare leave the house without her lip-gloss neatly painted onto her lips. She threw on some black Reeboks and grabbed her bag to play taxi to her dear friend.
While out, she swung by the barbershop to pick up the boys, they had been hanging out with Gator getting a haircut. He told Tressa to come by later to get them. She was hoping they were ready when she pulled up in front of the shop and blew the horn, but Gator signaled for her to come in. Gator's barbershop was a nice, modern looking barbershop. Just about everything in the spacious barbershop was black. The chairs and counters were black, and the mirror frames were outlined with black and gold.
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with a small refrigerator, a black leather sofa and a big screen television.
Tressa always felt so uncomfortable sitting in the barbershop, and especially in her "scrub the floor and toilet" clothes. There was always a bunch of men and she didn't fit in. Most of the guys there she knew, but there was a few she didn't know. There was one particular dude that was sitting over in the corner. He was quiet and the average person would not have noticed but being as attentive as Tressa always had to be, she noticed everything. He especially caught her attention when her son, Ali walked over there to talk to the man, and to her surprise, hyper, energetic with ants in his pants Ali, was listening to him! Being the overprotective mother she was, she called over to Ali. "Ali come here." When Ali dropped his head and walked slowly over to her, she scolded him. "Baby, you know you don't talk to strangers."
"Mommy, he's my friend. He's funny and he helped me draw this picture for you." It was a picture of some flowers. "Hadji was crying when Uncle Gator threw away the flowers we got for you."
She smiled as she looked at the picture. "Ohhh, isn't this beautiful!"
"Yeah, mommy we made it just for you." Ali excitedly said. He was obviously happy that his mother loved the picture they both drew for her.
Gator spoke up while holding the clippers in his hand. "Before you jump to any conclusions, I let them go outside since you keep them exiled from the world." Gator continued as he talked with his hands. "When they were outside, they picked you some flowers. Hadji knocked them on the floor, and the flowers fell apart and I threw them away by mistake. It started raining and I couldn't let him go outside to pick anymore. Hadji threw a tantrum since he wouldn't have the flowers for you when you came. My man Indie calmed him down and helped them draw flowers for you instead."
Tressa gazed at Indie, there was no doubt that he was fine. He had an exotic looking, reddish bronze complexion with high cheekbones. He had a razor sharp chin and a beautiful perfectly shaped nose with a 188
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protrusion in the middle. Although he was sitting down, she could tell that he stood well over six feet. He was slim but with a nice build. His coal black hair was cut close, but the curls were still present. He wore blue jeans, a gray T-shirt and moccasin style shoes. The moccasin shoes he had on threw her off. She didn't care if they were by Polo, they were still moccasins!
He was so handsome and sexy to her that she could have ran over and tongue kissed him. The strangest thing was, as good as he looked to her, he managed to turn her
off at the same time. She was certain that he'd be more of a headache than he was worth. Shoot, as fine as he was, she was convinced he had women lined up as long as the free cheese line.
She put on the boys' little windbreaker Nautica jackets and left the shop. Once she was outside, Indie ran out behind her. "Excuse me, miss, you forgot your flowers." He extended his hand to her holding the two pictures with a big Joker smile covering his face, as she walked to meet him halfway to get the pictures.
"Thank you for helping out with my sons. I know they can be a handful at times."
"No problem at all. I like those little dudes." He looked her up and down, and spoke bluntly in his soft voice. "I'd like to take you out." The last part of the comment caught her off guard.
This dagonne moccasin wearing clown think I am going to go out with him. That's a joke, she thought, as she looked him up and down. And he's so sure of himself!
Before she could say no, he cut in. "Look, I see you are a little uncomfortable going out with a stranger and that's OK. Well, at least let me call you then." He looked into her eyes in an aggressive, take control way. When their eyes met, she couldn't refuse his sexy, deep, dark brown eyes. If she didn't know any better, she would have sworn his eyes were black. In the past year, it had never been hard at all for her to reject any man.
She had determined in her mind that they were all full of it.
She wanted to cut Indie down, but somehow she couldn't be as bitter as she had been over the past twelve months.
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"OK. I'm ready for your number." Indie aggressively said in his soft, sexy voice.
"I don't have a pen to write it down."
"Baby, I don't need you to write it down. I can put it up here." Indie responded, by pointing to his forehead but referring to his mind.
She was caught off guard, so she had no choice but to ramble off her number to him.