Hood Misfits 3

by Brick

  “I’m hungry,” Angel whispered behind me.

  I hadn’t heard her come out of the bathroom while I stashed the ice bucket in our mini fridge. “It’s a Chinese food spot, here’s the number,” I said writing the digits down, dropping a roll of money near it then moving toward the bathroom.

  She stood in a towel with wet, crinkled hair. It had me frowning because her hair wasn’t as long as it was just a few minutes ago and it was that sandy-brown red again, curling around her head in a fro.

  “Order two large fried rice, shrimp, and beef. Get whatever sides, too, with that hot sauce and add whatever you want with it plus drinks,” I said stepping into the bathroom.

  I got ready to close the door then almost tripped over myself. It looked like World War III in that fucker. Towels were everywhere and hair lay over a toilet, over the floor, over the sink and at my feet.

  “The fuck is this?” I yelled.

  Angel rushed behind me and pushed me to the side scrambling around the bathroom. “I was about to clean it up but you headed in there before I could.”

  My hands ran down my face and I stared down at a chick who had turned into Mystique. “Fucking chicks straight shifting like chameleons. Damn,” I griped.

  She bent over in her towel cleaning up everything, snatching things with an attitude, and my eyes found their way on her ass. The towel was so short that I could see that separation between her thighs. “Look, it’s cool, I’ll deal with it.”

  “Nah, niggas act like they never seen weave before. I got it,” she spat out, moving quickly then walking past me.

  My hand reached out to grip her arm and I saw a slight spark of fear hit her. “I’m tired, my bad okay? Sorry. Just order our food and think on why the fuck Micah wants you so bad, because that shit just wasn’t about me, but about you too. Don’t answer your cell anymore either. We’re ghosts for right now.”

  Angel gave a slight nod, and then pulled her arm out of my touch. I kept my eyes locked on her and she pulled her real hair to the side as her almond-shaped eyes kept displaying her exotic looks. “I really don’t know but I will. Wash your ass, nigga. Bye.”

  Then like that, I was pissed the fuck off at her again and slamming the door to the bathroom behind me. I glanced around the bathroom, peeled off my clothes, and then hopped in the shower.

  Drills were coming up and I knew she would have to be with the Bounce Girls too, training for the next big game coming up in two weeks. For now though, we’d have to keep clear of Micah and any shit he was coming with.

  As water made my wounds sting and ache in pain, a wad of clumped hair appeared at my feet and I roared out loud, “This that shit that I don’t like! Fuck! You don’t even need the fucking horse hair; get your shit right, mama! Fucking Chewbacca!”

  Chapter 11

  Angel

  I looked around the drab hotel room and gave a long, deep breath. The double beds were nothing fancy. Just regular old beds with country-like bedspreads on them. While Enzo had showered, I went to the front desk and bought some of the off-brand Febreze-like spray to take the dingy, mildewed odor out of the air. I paid the lady an extra fifty for her to give us fresh sheets. The old bitty had been so thankful for the extra cash she went into the storage room and gave me two brand new packs of sheets. They were only 180 thread count, but at least I knew no one had pissed, shitted, died, or fucked on them.

  “The extensions in my hair were Brazilian, not horse hair,” I said.

  Enzo looked up from his food then frowned while looking at me as if I was crazy. He shrugged. “And that is relevant why?”

  “Was just saying is all since you called me ugly and was fussing about the hair in the bathroom.”

  He wiped his mouth with the napkin while still watching me. “I didn’t call you ugly.”

  “You did. You called me Chewbacca.”

  He gave a visible smirk then went back to eating. “I called you that because your ass was shedding hair and shit all over the bathroom and shower, mama. A nigga like me don’t too much care for a bitch and her weave being all over the place. The fuck you got weave in your head for anyway with that African bush you got on ya head?”

  I cut my eyes at him and subconsciously ran a finger through my puffing-up hair. “So now you have a problem with my real hair, too? You’re an asshole, Enzo.”

  He gave a lopsided grin. “So I’ve been told. But, nah, mama. I gives no fucks about your hair one way or the other. Just keep the shit out my way.”

  I really had a mind to toss my whole plate of food at him as he sat there and stuffed his face. But because he was my safety net and a way to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth, I didn’t want to get too flip at the mouth. So, I stayed silent as we both watched the news. Enzo’s condo was up in flames as cops milled about. Really it was Dame’s condo. We listened intently as the news anchor spoke about a drug and gang war that was still taking place months after Damien Orlando’s death.

  The woman went into detail about his twin brother being found burned to death in a warehouse in Morrow after he had been shot, mutilated, and had his head severed from his body.

  “Damn,” was all I could murmur. Twin? My mind came to life. That had to have been the man I’d seen that day when I was passing the restaurant. Oh my God, I thought. Thank God I ran my ass away from that nigga he’d obviously sent after me. I paid close attention to it all. I didn’t want to miss a thing. It wasn’t until the reporter was talking to the plainclothes detective that I tried to turn the TV off.

  “The fuck you doing? Turn it back on,” Enzo demanded as he snatched the remote from my hand.

  I watched as he stood; the gym shorts he had on did very little to hide the bulge between his legs. Maybe I was crazy, but I would have paid to see the piercing in his dick again. I’d never seen anything like it and it fascinated me. Still, with all that had happened and all that was going on, it was safe to say that I would never get that eye treat again.

  “As you just heard, police are saying that Micah Tems, a major sponsor of the Atlanta Nightwings Football Camp for Kids, was found passed out in his car. It looked as if he had been beaten, assaulted with some kind of sharp knife-like weapon, and left for dead in the back of an abandoned building. As of now, we do not know where Shawn ‘Enzo’ Banks is or if his disappearance and Mr. Tems’s assault are connected in anyway,” the news anchor reported.

  Enzo grunted, “Humph. Damn, all a nigga wanted to do was play football as a kid, make the NFL, and take my aunt and brother up out the Trap.” I didn’t know if he was talking to himself or me. I remained silent. It seemed as if he was zoned out, in another world.

  “Micah is after me because Dame sold me to him. Only Micah had to work off a debt to get me. No matter how much money he gave Dame, you know that nigga always had a bargain going. Dame had been plotting to have some people killed and of course Micah was to see to it being done. Micah works for the FBI, Enzo.”

  He tossed the remote and walked to stand over me. “Keep talking,” he growled. The look on his face told me that things could or would go way left in the blink of an eye.

  “When Dame sold me to him, Micah was to get me twice a week and one weekend after I finished working at the City. Drugs, alcohol, and pussy will make a man careless no matter who he is. He messed around and said too much one day. Said something about needing to call his captain. At first I thought he was talking about Dame, but when he almost freaked out because he’d left his phone in Dame’s limo I knew something else was going on. Then he left me in his hotel room alone for too long one day. I found his badge.”

  “So, he’s an FBI agent?” He must have been thinking Micah was an informant.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And you’ve known this the whole time and ain’t said shit?”

  I watched as Enzo’s fist balled by his side then slid back a ways from him. The dark clouds rolling in his eyes put the fear of God in me. His jaw was twitching and his breathing deepened.

>   “Because I was hoping he wouldn’t find me after all of the shit that had gone down with Dame. He always tried to say little shit to get me to say the wrong thing.”

  He asked, “What chu mean?”

  “Like, he never quite knew if I’d seen his badge or had picked up on what he’d said that day. I played a dumb, stupid bitch. I played the dumb ho I was supposed to play until that day he had us in his office and I asked him if he was a detective or something with the way he was questioning us about our old lives. He knew in that moment. I know he knew. And he played his hand again when he called the cops off after he left me in the hotel room with your little brother. I know a lot, Enzo. A lot. When I was snooping around and found his badge, I found out a lot more stuff, too. I know he has files on Dame’s old faction, DOA, and he has something on some street legend named Phantom or Phenom or some shit. He has a file on the African Queen and I’m sure by now he is after you and anybody associated with Dame’s empire. And he can’t kill me until he finds out how much I know and if I’ve told anyone.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t kill you though. You snitching, bitch?” Enzo asked through clenched teeth.

  “What? No, no. Why would I be snitching? If I was working for him would the nigga be trying to kill me too?” I explained hurriedly, hoping that he wouldn’t flip out on me.

  I expected Enzo to ask more questions, but all he did was stare at me for a few more moments before walking away. I looked back at him as he lay down on the other bed in the room with one hand propped behind his head as he mean mugged the wall straight ahead. I stood and threw away the food containers and empty soda cans.

  “So you’re not going to say anything?” I finally asked after Enzo had been quiet for over twenty minutes.

  He turned his head and slowly watched me. “Trying to figure out if I believe you. I’m two seconds away from taking this gun and blowing your fucking brains out in this hotel room. How do I know that you ain’t working with this nigga and this shit is all a ploy? I can tell you right now that before I go to prison I’ll kill you and every motherfucker in this hotel before I use the police to commit suicide.”

  “If I was working with Micah, would I have brought your little brother back to you? Would he have done this shit to me?” I snatched my shirt off and turned, then pointed to my still sore back.

  “How the fuck do I know how far a nigga will go to further his agenda? Niggas could know we’re in this hotel right now.”

  “You picked this damn hotel, boy. You’re really fucked up in the head, Enzo. You know that? Paranoid as fuck. You’ve been treating me like shit this whole time and all I’ve tried to do is show you that I meant what I said when I told you I’d scratch your back if you scratched mine.”

  “Mama, ain’t no more room left on your back for me to scratch,” he quipped.

  That hurt. What he’d said had hurt. His words had been cutting me all day and I was beyond tired of it. “You know what? Fuck it. I’m done. I’m out. I’ll survive the best way I can,” I snapped as I snatched up my bag.

  I packed as best I could. I threw on the only pair of pants I had with me, pulled the mess on my head back into a ponytail, and stormed out of the room. I didn’t know why I found myself depending on another man anyway. I’d said I would never go back to allowing a man to run my life. By rote, I’d gone and let Enzo do that. He had the power because he knew I didn’t have anyone or anything. Shit, that nigga didn’t really want to be bothered with me anyway. So I was doing us both a favor by getting the hell on.

  Rain poured down on me as soon as I walked out onto the balcony of the seedy motel. The place looked like cheap whores frequented it hourly. I could tell by the cars and sneaky, shameful look of the men who walked in and out of the hotel rooms.

  “Hey do you have a bus schedule?” I asked the woman at the front desk after walking down the rickety iron stairs.

  “I got one, but ain’t no bus coming back through here ’til the morning.” “Morning” sounded more like “moaning” when she said it. Her voice sounded as if there was a voice box in her throat.

  I sighed and looked at how heavy the rain was falling. “How much is a single bed room?”

  “Thirty-five plus tax.”

  I reached into my pockets and cursed myself when I realized I’d taken the money Enzo had given me and placed it back on the table. I put the money there so he could see I wasn’t on some shiesty shit. Now I was wishing I would have pocketed that shit because I didn’t even have thirty-five cents, let alone thirty-five dollars.

  “Fuck,” I spat out, inwardly kicking myself.

  “You’s a pretty gyal. You look like you can make a good five hunnid if you talk to summa the men out there. ’Specially at the truck stop cross the street over yonder,” the old bitty told me.

  In her mind, I knew she was only trying to help me and had probably assumed I was a whore anyway since I was in the room with Enzo. I gave her a wry smile and retreated out into the rain. For a while, I just stood there under the awning trying to figure out what my next move would be. Once the wind started blowing and the rain started to drench me, I moved around to the underpass of the hotel. Drunk women and lustful men passed by me as I sat with the cap’s peak pulled down over my face. Once it stopped raining I would start to make my journey to somewhere.

  I’d sat there for a good hour before I remembered the card the African Queen had given me. I stood and snatched the card out, grinning like a fool because I remembered her saying she would help me if I wanted it. I left my bag and rushed around the front desk only to find the door locked.

  “You need summin, shawty?”

  I turned quickly to find an elderly looking gentleman behind me. While I could tell he was too old to have such a young vernacular, he was dressed like he was eighteen with his pants hanging off his ass. I wanted to tell him no, I didn’t need anything, but I could see a pay phone just inches away from where I had been sitting.

  “Is it possible I can get enough change to use the pay phone? I need to call someone to pick me up,” I told him.

  He looked at me for a while. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but was grateful when he reached into his pocket and grabbed some change. He counted off a dollar in quarters and dimes. “What’s ya name, shawty?”

  I didn’t want to be having a conversation with him, especially not one where I had to tell my name. “People call me Tino,” I lied to him.

  He frowned, then smiled. “Mena done gone for the night. I’m taking over this shift. You gotta nigga name like my li’l niece had. Yo’ daddy musta been a hood urchin too. My brother had a girl and she looked so much like him we started calling her his name.”

  I gave a fake faint smile just to appear as if I was interested. “Yeah,” I lied, “they named me after my daddy too.”

  “I always wondered what happened to my niece after my brother and his wife got killed. You probably heard about it. They found they bodies back in Clay Co in Jonesboro behind the Woods.”

  He was looking at me as if he was hoping I’d heard something. To be honest, I had no idea what he was talking about. All I wanted to do was get the change so I could make the phone call. If I had been putting two and two together I would have realized he was talking about a girl closer to me than I knew.

  “I’m sorry about that. I hope they found the people who did it,” I told him.

  “That nigga got his,” was all he said as his eyes dimmed over.

  “Hey look, I don’t mean to seem rude or anything, but I really need to make this phone call.”

  He nodded and handed the change to me. “No problem. You young like my niece. I wish I could find her. You don’t need to be out here at no place like this. Shit ain’t safe for no young pretty thang like you.”

  He moved closer to the light and I could see he had a mouthful of gold. The wavy fade on his head was lined to perfection. His eyes held a familiarity about them. The dark complexion of his was rich like the darkest of chocolate. I could t
ell that in his younger days, he’d been hell on women just judging by the way he carried himself.

  “Thank you,” I told him as I rushed off toward the pay phone.

  “You welcome, shawty. Hope you find who you looking for. Be careful though,” he warned again.

  His warning went in one ear and out the other as I passed a group of about three women who looked like they’d gone to Party City to buy their wigs and outfits. The rain beat down on me as I raced to the pay phone. I quickly put two quarters into the slot and dialed the number. I was so excited that when the phone rang seven times without anyone picking up, my face fell. I tried one more time and got the same thing. I slammed the phone down, pissed. I’d gotten soaking wet for nothing.

  I huffed and walked back to the underpass to grab my bag only to find that it was gone.

  “Looking for this?” a feminine voice asked me.

  I turned to find a woman, or man, who stood at least six feet tall. Her makeup was flawless, but her wig was a different story.

  “May I please have my bag back?” I asked as calmly as I could.

  “Or what?” I turned behind me to see the other two women had walked up on me.

  “You new hoes is disrespectful. You can’t come to another ho’s block and think you can just take money,” the other, who looked like she could pass for the Sandman from the old Apollo, said to me.

  All three of them had bad weaves and even worse bodies. The tall, masculine-looking one looked like Patrick Ewing in a red wig. The white one who had called me disrespectful was made like a meatball with feet. The light-skinned one looked as if she had been a dime in her day, but now she just looked like two rough pennies with bad acne scars and herpes on the top of her lips.