Tales from da Hood

by Nikki Turner

  The next day Lil Mo says she has something important to tell me.

  “What's up, baby?” I ask, 'cause I'm curious to know what's on her mind.

  “Well, I thought you should know that I found a three-bedroom apartment in Innsbrook. The apartments are renting for nine hundred dollars a month, and—”

  I cut her off and ask, “Why are you moving way out there?”

  “Well,” she continued on, “ 'cause we need to get away from the inner city.” I notice the we so I question further.

  “Who is ‘we'?” I ask with a puzzled look on my face.

  “Well, Dee, I'm gonna break up with Turk when he gets back in town on Friday, because I want to be with you,” she answers with a serious look.

  I'm delighted to hear this, so I nod and say, “That's cool.” I think to myself, If that nigga wants beef he can bring it.

  The professional movers are hired and it don't take long to get shit packed up. Lil Mo dances around the apartment singing the Jeffersons: “Well, we're moving on up, moving on up, to the East Side, to a deluxe apartment in the skkyyyyy.”

  That night we get a room at the Embassy Suites on Broad. We order room service and watch movies on cable. We talk about our families, and she tells me that her entire family is dead. She was in and out of foster homes her entire life. I tell her about KaQuanza, and she says she had heard about his death. We doze off and suddenly we hear a phone ringing. We both look at each other, 'cause neither one of us told anybody where we was gon’ be. She answers the hotel phone and slams it down when she realizes that its her carry-around car phone that's ringing. She answers it, then lips to me that it's that nigga Turk. I put my ear up to the phone so I can hear what the nigga's saying. He's arguing with her about me.

  “What the fuck is this shit I'm hearing about you in Skilligalee with that bitch-ass nigga from Nine Mile?” Turk screams at the top of his lungs.

  “I don't know what you talking about,” Lil Mo responds, sounding nervous as hell.

  “Bitch, don't lie to me. I know for a mutherfucking fact you been with that nigga, and I hear you was all up on that nigga in Ivory's, pushing it real good,” Turk says, his voice echoing through the phone.

  “No, baby, I was with Vanessa, my client. You know that's Vanessa's man. I love you, Turk, I wouldn't fuck around on you.” Lil Mo starts crying as she tries calming him down.

  “I don't wanna hear that bullshit; I'ma beat yo ass and kill that bitch-ass nigga, watch me! I'm done talking, just have your ass at the spot over Jarrett at ten sharp on Friday night so we can finish this conversation,” Turk said.

  “All right, baby, I'll be there,” Lil Mo says with tears rolling down her face. She hangs up the phone and sits up in bed with her back to the headboard.

  “Are you all right?” I ask, 'cause I jive like felt sorry for her. She has just told me about her family being dead, and now this shit. And that nigga Turk ain't buying that shit she was tryna sell him. He's vexed, and I can almost feel the ass-whipping she has coming.

  “I'm scared, you just don't know, Turk is crazy. Whenever I don't wanna have sex with him, he holds me down and fucks me in my ass, or he beats me and then makes me suck his dick. I wanna leave him so bad, but he keeps threatening me. I would have left him alone a long time ago, but he paid for me to go to Flair's Beauty Academy to get my cosmetologist license, and he put eight thousand dollars as a down payment on my truck,” Lil Mo says, crying hysterically.

  “Do you have the key to the crib in Jarrett?” I ask, 'cause I'm gonna take care of my baby's problem.

  “Yeah, baby,” she answers as she wipes the tears from her eyes. “Are you gonna get rid of him for me?”

  I look at her and tell her to lie back down. I rub her back and tell her, “Big Daddy got you.”

  SEVEN

  FRIDAY MORNING we walk over to Shoney's to eat from the all-youcan-eat breakfast bar. We eat, and then Lil Mo goes back to the room to get more shut-eye. I find a spot on West Broad to get my hair cornrowed. When I get back to the room, my girl is sitting on the edge of the bed crying. I run over to her and kneel down.

  “What's wrong, baby?” I ask as I stroke her face with my hand.

  “Turk took the truck from the parking lot.”

  “How do you know he took it?” I ask.

  “Because he called my car phone after he did and told me he had.”

  “That's all right, baby, 'cause after tonight you won't have to worry bout that nigga.” I need her to know that I got her back.

  “Okay, boo, and just to let you know, he keeps his drugs and some of his money in the apartment out Jarrett.”

  “Word,” I say to let her know that I know what she's getting at.

  We call Enterprise and rent a car for the rest of the weekend. I tell her that on Monday morning we gonna go and get a car from J. P.'s Auto Sales. This is where all the moneymaking niggas get their rides.

  I leave her in the room while I go bond Nessa out. When I get to the lockup, they tell me Nessa ain't there. I say to myself out loud, “Damn, I guess her Aunt June got her out.”

  The clerk hears me talking to myself, and says, “Ma'am, we haven't had nobody name Vanessa Tinsley down here at all.”

  I say, “Excuse me, but she been down here since last Saturday night.” The lady asks for Nessa's social security.

  I run it off, and the lady says, “Sorry, but you may want to try Chesterfield and Henrico.” I stop by my house to call around, and Nessa can't be found anywhere. I even call all the surrounding counties, and all the jails say the same thing: “Sorry, but we haven't had anyone lately by that name.”

  Momma is upset when she walks in. She asks me if the jersey found in Melody's house belongs to me. I thought I had put that mutherfucker in the suitcase with the money, but I slipped up and left that Chicago Bulls shit behind. I ignore her question. She never asks me if I killed Mel, 'cause for real, I don't think she wants to know the answer. She says 5-0 wants to talk to me. I ask if I was suspect with the niggas in the pj's and she says La-La's cousin from the West End has been out there asking bout me. For a minute, I get kinda nervous, 'cause them niggas from the West End go hard. If one nigga in the West End got beef with you, then all the niggas in the West End got beef with you. That's just how them niggas roll. Then I think, Let them niggas bring it.

  I drive back to the hotel and get in bed with my baby. I'm waiting to hear from Nessa, 'cause at this point, I'm not sure if the bitch is dead or alive. At nine Lil Mo gives me the key and I drive back across town and wait for the nigga to show up. I let myself inside and turn on all the lights so he'll think Lil Mo is waiting on him, and then I hide in the extra small bedroom closet. The nigga comes in alone, just like Lil Mo said he would. He drops his keys and yells, “Where you at?”

  I step from the closet and bounce around the wall. The nigga throws his hands up when he sees me; nigga knows what time it is.

  “Get the fuck down,” I yell as I point La-La's 9mm at his head.

  “Yeah, nigga, who's the bitch now?” I say as I rumble through his pockets. The nigga doesn't say a word; he gets on the floor like I order his ass to do. I reach for a pillow and that's when he realizes that I'm not just there to rob him. He scrambles to get up, but I smash the pillow to the back of the nigga's head and pull the trigger. BOOM! The nigga's body jerks for seven minutes before he dies. I stand over him and watch until there is no more movement. Then I ransack the apartment. I get two kilos of coke and sixty-five g's from a safe that was left wide open. He was smart when it came to getting paper but dumb as a muh-fucker when it came to protecting his shit.

  The next day we don't get up until about three in the afternoon. I still haven't heard from Nessa. I call home to check on Momma.

  “Hey, Ma, what's happening? You all right?'’

  “Demetria, Nessa called and said she's still in the lockup. How come you won't go get the girl out?” Momma asks, getting all in my shit again.

  “Ma, did she call collect?” I
ask, 'cause I am confused as hell about Nessa's whereabouts. I didn't tell Momma that I had gone to get her and that her ass wasn't there.

  “Nah, she ain't call here no goddamn collect, she been calling all week on somebody's three way,” Momma says like she had a fucking collect call block or something on the line.

  That explains why I didn't see any pay phone calls on the caller ID whenever I checked it. I tell Momma I'm gonna go shopping and buy her some new clothes and shoes.

  Me and Lil Mo get dressed and go to Regency Square mall to get me some new gear to wear to Ivory's. Lil Mo says she's gonna wear the Versace dress that I bought her. I cop a pair of green on white Flavs, a pair of Polo Jean shorts, and a green-and-white Polo shirt. I'm gonna rock green 'cause that shit is money. We go to Out-back Steakhouse for dinner; then we go back to our room to rest up for the night. Mo says she wants to give me a special treat for getting rid of that nigga Turk. She takes a shower and comes out of the bathroom wearing a black satin thong. She has a black feather boa around her neck and a pair of glass slippers with black feathers on them. Her hair is pulled up in a bun, and she has on a pair of dangling diamond earrings. She must've borrowed a CD player from the hotel while I was gone, cause Shorty came out teasing me with the boa while swirling her ass off around the joint by Mary J. Blige,

  “You Remind Me.”

  I feel like I'm gonna lose my mind. But her perky-ass breasts sitting at attention is enough to keep me focused.

  “Let me make love to you one more time,” she says, unzipping my pants.

  “Fuck you mean, one more time?” I immediately become defensive 'cause I'm thinking she's tryna diss me after I had killed that nigga for her, and all that black shit she's wearing makes me think her ass is in mourning or something.

  “One more time before we go to the club tonight, silly,” she says, hitting me with the pillow.

  We get into a pillow fight and then we make love. She pours hot vanilla oil over my entire body and licks me from head to toe. Shorty makes my toes curl, and for the first time since I been wit’ her, I have multiple orgasms. I pull off her panties and spread her legs apart as far as they could go. I lick her clit until the tip of my tongue goes numb. She comes twice and then we doze off into a deep sleep. When I wake up, it's ten P.M. and she is up and ready to go. I take a shower and then throw my shit on. I toss my money green headband around my cornrows, and we leave the room with over $80,000 in cash, and God only knows how much them two kilos is gonna bring.

  When we get to the club, there is a rack of muh-fuckers waiting. I take my girl by the hand, and we walk to the front of the line. The fat-ass bouncer is standing there, and he nods for us to go in. The club is already packed like sardines, so I know all them niggas outside ain't gon’ make it in.

  I order drinks for everybody standing around the bar. Niggas is checking me 'cause I'm looking good and spending money left and right. Lil Mo is all up on me and shit. The DJ is playing Tupac's “I Get Around,” and, man, that is my shit. I start grooving, my girl is in front of me, and I'm dancing behind her with my arms around her neck and singing along. Niggas is checking me 'cause I'm with the baddest girl in the club, and she belongs to Turk.

  Then I see that 'Bama-ass nigga from the week before that fuck with Keisha. The nigga walks over to me with his boys and gives me a hard-ass look, then spits that same ol’ comment out his mouth, “Look at that fake-ass nigga.” Him and his boys start giggling like lil bitches. I lean over Lil Mo and get up in the nigga's face and continue singing my man's Tupac shit: “Cuz hos they sweat a brotha majorly, and I don't know why your girl keeps pagin’ me.”

  Next thing I know, me and this nigga is going toe to toe. I'm feeling myself. I done gunned down three muh-fuckers, been off the coca for a minute, and my pockets is fat like they used to be. Man, I rock that puny-ass nigga. I jab him in the face three times: Pap, pap, pap. That nigga's head wobbles back and forth. I jump back and throw my hands up to protect my grill. I start rocking back and forth. I tell the nigga, “Bring it.”

  I wait for him to show me what he's got, but nigga ain't have no fight in him. He comes charging at me with his head down, so I cuff him up and flip his skinny ass over. I hold the muh-fucker upside down for a minute, and then I drop the nigga. Wham. His boys stand by and watch 'cause this shit is one-on-one. I start stomping his bitch ass. Girls are screaming, “Break it up, break it up.” But his boys are saying, “Nah, let them fight.”

  Then security comes and breaks it up. Security throws them niggas out of the club. The shit was wild 'cause the DJ never stopped playing the music, and people was still dancing and shit. It only took me about three minutes to prove to the nigga that I wasn't no joke.

  I go to the bathroom to fix myself up 'cause my headband has slid all around my neck and shit. When I come out, some of Lil Mo's girls are standing around, and I overhear them telling her that Turk's boy just found him dead in the apartment out Jarrett. They tell her that we should leave 'cause niggas is saying that I killed him over her. My girl walks over to me and whispers in my ear, “I'll go pull the rental around. Meet me in front of the club.”

  “All right,” I say, looking around 'cause I'm not too sure if skinny dude has gotten back into the club and is planning to steal me. I walk to the bar to get me another drink before I roll out. This nigga name Duke from round the way walks up to me.

  “Man, you know niggas talking. They say you killed La-La, Shorty. You need to lay low for a minute,” he informs me as he checks the room like he ain't want certain niggas to see him hollering at me. He continues, “Man, five-oh been talking to the maintenance man, and the nigga say he seen you leaving Melody's house when he was out on an emergency call. Be careful, man, cause La's people from the West End came rolling through deep today and they was asking questions bout you.”

  I smash him off a $100 bill and tell him, “Good looking out.”

  I walk outside and wait in front of the club for my baby to pull up. It is still just as many people outside of the club as inside. Cars are lined up and down Broad Street and music is blasting from just about every car on the strip. Niggas shooting dice on the corner like it's legal. I see my nigga Rome standing across the street with his crew, so I start to make my way to him when all of a sudden I hear muh-fuckers screaming, “They got guns.”

  I hear the fat bouncer say, “Run, Dee, man, run.” I hear a car speed off so I haul ass running. I run down the street, and somebody is gunning behind me. Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. I turn the corner, but them niggas is right up on me. One shot hits me in the leg— pow—and then three hit me in the back. Boom, boom, boom. I keep running until I can't run anymore.

  I collapse in Hardee's parking lot. I hear the car stop and the car doors open. Somebody is coming over to me. I think, Oh my God, these niggas gonna shoot me in the head now. I close my eyes, 'cause I ain't wanna see death coming. Somebody stoops beside me. I smell vanilla. It's Lil Mo.

  She drops to her knees and gets up close and personal in my ear and says, “By the way, Cookie didn't die from breast cancer. She committed suicide 'cause your butch ass told your knock-kneed momma that she fucked you and your momma called CPS, and they wouldn't let her get me and my sister back.” She says this without stopping to catch her breath. “Remember the baby with the dope in her Pampers? Well, that was my baby sis Iesha, and she was thrown down the stairs and killed by our foster mother. Remember the six-year-old? Well, that's me, you forgetful-ass mutherfucker. If I didn't tell that Momma was fucking me, why did you tell? If it wasn't for you, Momma would have gotten us back, and my sister would be alive, and Daddy wouldn't have hung himself in prison. Oh, and one other thing—here is your practice toy. You need it 'cause you don't eat pussy all that great.”

  She tosses the It's Alive baby doll at me and runs off, still holding the .38 caliber in her hand. I don't hear the car pull away, so I turn my head to see where she is. Then I see another muh-fucker coming toward me. It's Nessa. She leans down, gets up close and p
ersonal in my ear, and says, “You thought you left me for dead in that hot-ass jail, but I was in New York for a week, getting fucked by a real nigga.” Then she tosses the blue torn-off piece of paper with Turk's car phone and pager number at me. Before she walks off, she turns and says, “Oh, and one last thing, we don't like dick, we like pussy.”

  Then Nessa stomps my ass in the stomach one good time and spits on me. Thoof. Her spit catches me between the eyes.

  I am slowly losing consciousness, but I roll over on my side so I can see her. She walks slowly in her same usual nonchalant pace, carrying the goddamn Dolce & Gabanna bag. She and Lil Mo are wearing the exact same silk wrap Versace dresses. Then I realize she is walking to the silver Rodeo that Turk had supposedly taken from the hotel parking lot. Lil Mo is now sitting in the driver's seat. She yells out the window, “Vanessa Ann Tinsley, come on, pick up your mutherfucking feet, you slewfoot-ass bitch!”

  Nessa runs to the truck, opens the passenger side, jumps in, and closes it behind her. As the truck drives off, I notice that Turk's picture has been replaced with a picture of Nessa and Lil Mo, taken at King's Dominion. They are snuggled in each other's arms and the date on the picture is July Fourth. I glance down at the Atlanta license plate and the tag spells dyke. Suddenly I remember the day I met Nessa. The bitch approached me telling me that she had just quit her janitorial job at an all-girls group home in Petersburg. Man, I can't believe it; those dyke bitches set me up. Then I think about the day I fucked Nessa by the window in the sunshine, then I think about Lil Mo and how I had let that bitch revoke my butch card. I'm mad as a muh-fucker 'cause I ain't never get to hit it. But I know Nessa's ass is gon’ miss me! Fuck that, Richmond is gon’ miss me cause I'm the baddest mutherfucker that ever walked them streets. That's right, me, Big Daddy, Demetria, Dee, or whatever the fuck a nigga wanna call me—I was the baddest nigga that muh-fucking city ever seen.