“I want all you bitches to slowly stand up and put your purses over here on the table. Anybody caught trippin’ will be dealt with.”
Mostly all of the women got off the floor and placed their purses on the table. One lady, however, was tending to her baby and to her son who were both crying. The robber appeared irritated. He scratched his head and rubbed across his crusty lips. Crack-head fool was written all over him, and as I plotted my next move, I was sure I could take him down.
“Shut that goddamn baby up!” he shouted. “And hurry the fuck up with yo purse!”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t quiet a baby who’s hungry. And my son is afraid. Don’t you see that he’s afraid of you?”
“Either you shut them up or I’ll settle this problem myself! You got one minute to do it or you gon’ be lyin’ yo fat ass in a pool of their blood.”
The crazy nigga rushed over to the table. He picked up the women’s purses and dropped them into a huge garbage bag that he carried. Obviously, he came prepared, or at least he thought he did.
I removed the Glock 9 from behind me and held it in my hand. My sidekick, Poetry, touched my shoulder and pulled on it.
“Be careful, Prince” she whispered. “You see that he got a gun too, so be real careful, baby.”
“I will, but I need you to stay back. I know how you are, Poetry, but I want you to stay right here so you don’t get hurt.”
She nodded.
As I made my way out of my office, ol’ boy had his back to me. I was able to tiptoe my way close to him. What made him turn around was another little boy in the laundromat who was lying on the floor with his sister. He shouted to the man, “You’d better watch your back!”
With everyone’s eyes shifting in my direction, the man turned around. He aimed his gun at me; my gun was aimed at him. While my face displayed a cold stare, he was all smiles, showing his stained, broken teeth.
“Back the fuck up, li’l nigga,” he said. “I didn’t come here to hurt nobody, but I will if I have to.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either, but you picked the wrong place to do this shit. I’mma need for you to lay those purses on the table and get the fuck out of here, man.”
“Shoot that muthafucka, Prince!” one of my neighbors shouted. “We got yo back!”
The man snapped his head to the side to see who had spoken. That was when I rushed up to him. He was so frail and weak that it was easy for me to wrestle the gun from his hand.
“Move back,” he said, trying to shove me away. “What you gon’ do now? Kill me?”
I tucked his gun behind me and kept my gun aimed at his head. “I should blow yo brains out, but consider this yo lucky day. Then again, not so much. Ruthie, Paige and Carmen, handle this nigga. Make sure that he never comes back in here again.”
The chicks from my hood, who were also my regular customers, rushed up from the floor and charged at the man fists first. As they waled on his ass, he crouched down and eventually fell to one knee. By the time the other ladies got off the floor to beat his ass, he was flat on the floor. They wore him out, hitting him with everything from their fists to shoes to containers of detergent.
“You dumb-ass fool!” one lady shouted as she stomped the man with her heel.
“How you gon’ come in here and try to take our shit?” another woman yelled as she poured bleach on the man.
All I did was watch. Poetry had gotten in on the action too. She used one of my black leather belts to spank that ass like the man had stolen something from her.
“If y’all niggas think this is where y’all need to come to rob somebody, rethink that plan! Be sure to tell yo friends what will happen, if y’all make this move again! You gon’ tell them for me, right?” Poetry said.
Ol’ boy didn’t respond. He was in a cradled position, whimpering like a baby. The ladies weren’t backing off of him, and about three to five minutes later, that was when I intervened again.
“All right, y’all, I think he got the message. Let him get up so he can make a move out of here.”
Many of the chicks backed away, but the one with the crying baby kept smacking her house shoe against the back of the dope fiend’s head.
“One more for my baby and another for my son!”
Whack! Whack!
Finally, she backed away. The frightful man shamefully blinked as he looked around at everyone. “I…I said I was sorry. Damn!”
“Too late for sorry,” I said. “Get up and get out.”
With blood gushing from his mouth, torn clothes, and one shoe on, one off, the man peeled himself off the floor. He could barely stand and wobbled as he tried to. He limped his way to the door, gripping his wounded side. I couldn’t help but to run up to him and give him a swift kick in the ass. He fell to the concrete pavement and I closed the door without feeling an ounce of sympathy. The chicks in the laundromat clapped their hands.
“Thanks, Prince,” one lady said. “You know you all right with me.”
“Nah, don’t go praisin’ me. I know now that I betta not fuck with any of y’all in here again. I’m afraid y’all may give me an ass kickin’ like that. So carry on, ladies, please carry on. I’m just sorry for the inconvenience, and I hope y’all continue to wash y’all clothes here.”
Many of the chicks said they would, but there were a few who didn’t partake in the events who left. It was all good, though. I had a business to run, with or without them.
I returned to my office that was junky as ever. Some of my washed clothes that needed to be folded were on my desk and I had a pile of quarters that needed to be counted. As I sat in my chair to return Jeff’s phone call, Poetry sat on my lap.
“Do you gotta go back to that stupid Hell House thing again? If you do, I want to go with you. I want to see who this bitch Jada is, so I can slap the mess out of her for putting her hands on you.”
“I wish you could go back with me, but you can’t. Trust me when I say I can handle Jada.”
Jeff answered the phone. I asked him what was up.
“The reunion show is in two days. I want to make sure you’re here by six o’clock, no later than six-thirty. Since Jada is the winner, I’ve asked everyone to bring her a gift. It can be whatever you want it to be. Considering what happened between the two of you, you may want to consider the gift as some kind of peace offering.”
“Man, fuck Jada. I’ll be there by six, and all you gon’ get from me is my presence. See you when I see you, and thanks for callin’.”
I hung up and leaned back in my chair.
“What you thinking about?” Poetry asked.
“Thinking about what kind of gift I can give to a real special friend who is so deservin’.”
“You must be talking about me.” Poetry straddled herself on my lap. “I’m deserving of a big ol’ kiss and hug, especially after what I did to that man, ain’t I?”
I stood and sat Poetry on my desk. “Ma, you deserve way more than a big kiss and hug. And when we get home, I’mma show you all the appreciation in the world. Right now, though, I gotta go take a dump. My stomach is turnin’ like a mutha.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes as I rushed out of my office. While in the bathroom, sucking in heat from a joint, all I could do was sit in deep thought about my return to Hell House. In a way, I was hyped and was kind of looking forward to it.
Believe it or not, my life didn’t always revolve around men like Roc, who cheated first and then cried about it later. It wasn’t about men like Jaylin either, who I used to satisfy my sexual needs. Today was all about me and my girl, Veronica, who I’d gone shopping with. While my money was tight, I could always squeeze a little something out for shopping.
We browsed the shops at The St. Louis Galleria. I wanted to see what I would purchase with the money Jada and I had won, and I also wanted to see what kind of present I could find for Jada. I had to admit that she came through for us. I was worried about her, but at the end of the day, she did what was necessary to get Ro
c and Jaylin out of the house. For that, she deserved a decent present. I wasn’t sure what it would be yet, but a few ideas were floating around in my head.
“Look at these shoes right here,” Veronica said as we stood in Baker’s. “These are so me, aren’t they?”
“They are you and me too, but look at how high the heel is. I’m not sure if I can walk in a heel that high, and the more I look at the shoe, the pink is too loud.”
“That’s your opinion.”
She took the shoe from my hand and asked the sales associate if she could bring her the shoes in a size seven. We continued to browse some more, and when my cell phone rang, I looked at the unknown number flashing across my screen.
“This is Chase,” I said.
“Chase who?” the woman questioned.
“Chase none of your business, especially if you don’t know who you’re calling.”
“Why does my boyfriend have your number locked in his phone?”
“No, the question is why are you going through his phone? You sound like another insecure woman. I don’t have time for this, and whoever your boyfriend is, tell him to delete my number.”
“His name is Rickey. Just so you know, we’ve been together for ten years, and I have two of his children. So, whoever you are, you are wasting your time, because Rickey Jackson the third is taken.”
This was the kind of mess I hated to deal with. I was out with my girl, minding my own business. Now this. I had to step outside of the store to address this foolishness. Some women didn’t get it. Whoever this idiot was, she had made the mistake of calling the wrong woman. I had met Rickey almost eight months ago, while Veronica and I were at a casino. We talked, exchanged phone numbers, and he took me out to dinner one time. Even though he was very attractive, I didn’t click with him. He didn’t have a job, he talked about his mother doing so much for him, and I predicted that he still lived at home with her. Good looks and a big dick print didn’t seal the deal for me. I needed way more than that. With that in mind, our conversation went no further. I wasn’t sure why he still had my number locked in his phone, but whatever the reason was, his woman was out of line.
“If you want to talk about someone who is wasting their time,” I said, “let’s talk about you wasting your time with a man for ten years and two children, yet all you can call yourself is his baby’s mama. I mean, here you are ten years later, going through his phone and worrying about who Rickey has been talking to or sleeping with. My question to you is how low is your self-esteem? Don’t you have something else better to do with your time, and shouldn’t you be spending this time motivating the man you’ve been with for ten years? Get off this phone with me and help that brotha find a job. Do what it takes to get him out of his mother’s house. Girl, this is ridiculous, and is the dick that good where you have to resort to calling another woman to see where you stand? Truthfully, I don’t recall his dick ever being that good, and just so you know, sex with Rickey was horrible. That’s my opinion, and I don’t get why you’re making a big ol’ fuss over a man with a small penis.”
By the way she was heavily breathing, I could sense her anger over the phone. “First of all, I’m not wasting my time. And if sex with Rickey is that horrible, then leave him alone. You’re the one with low self-esteem. That’s clearly the case, because you are out here messing with somebody else’s man.”
“You mean a man who won’t even marry you, right? How many times have you had that conversation with him? Isn’t it time for you to put on that white dress and stroll down the aisle to stand hand-in-hand and face-to-face with Rickey? I know you hear that ‘Here Comes the Bride’ theme playing in your head every day. It’s a shame that you’ll be four or five babies deep, before the marriage thing may happen. Then, there’s a possibility that it may not happen at all. My suggestion to you is to put his phone away and stop calling all of the women’s numbers you find. We’re not you’re problem, sweetheart, Rickey is. The more time you spend focusing on women like me, that’s time wasted on you creating an escape plan to get the hell out of that horrific relationship. By all means, it’s time to let go.”
“Whatever, bitch. Talk all the mess you want to. All I’m going to say is if I ever see you with Rickey, I’m going to kill him, cut his dick off, and shove it down your throat for messing around with him. I may slice you up too, so don’t say that I didn’t let you know how this is going to go down ahead of time.”
“Thanks. How sweet of you to let me know. If that day ever comes, remind me to pat you on the back as they haul your dumb ass off to jail. Those kids you mentioned will be motherless and you’ll be the one sitting in jail, wondering why dick meant more to you than your own kids. Now, I have to get back to shopping. If you feel as though you need more counseling, I charge fifty dollars an hour for my services. Check your schedule. If you need more advice, and you got your money in order, feel free to call me again.”
I hung up on that crazy trick. I despised women like her who felt brave or bold enough to call another woman with that leave my man alone crap. No, leave me alone, because when all is said and done, the man they called about wasn’t worth two cents.
I went back inside of Baker’s looking and feeling lively. Veronica was sitting down, trying on the shoes she liked.
“Who was that?” she asked.
“A nutcase who ain’t worth talking about. So, on another note, what do you think of the shoes?”
“I like them. What do you think?”
She stood and strutted across the floor. I sat there thinking about when she was also in a crappy relationship that we were forced to handle. I’d helped her a lot and we’d been good friends ever since.
“Actually, I like them. Now, all we have to do is find you an outfit to go with them.”
“Yep, so turn that phone off and let’s get busy. After I find what I’m looking for, we can get something to eat at The Cheesecake Factory.”
“Sounds like a winning plan to me.”
For the next few hours, we shopped for her an outfit to match her shoes. She hooked herself up and I bought a few outfits too. By the time we made it to The Cheesecake Factory, we were exhausted.
“Remind me to never shop with you again, especially in these high-heel shoes,” I said, rubbing my aching feet underneath the table. “My feet are killing me.”
“The rule is to always wear tennis shoes when shopping. I don’t know why all you cute girls be walking around the mall, shopping with heels and tight jeans on. Your jeans on so tight that they look melted on your skin. Can you breathe?”
“Not really, but you already know that whenever I step out of the house, I always have to look good. I can’t leave the house with any ol’ thing on. I want to look good in case I meet someone special.”
Right then, I looked over Veronica’s shoulder at an attractive man who was sitting at a table with another woman. He kept looking at me and then shifting his eyes back to her.
“Well, you know I met Andre while I was at the grocery store with a scarf tied around my head and with a dingy sweat suit on. Thank God he didn’t trip. Now, I’m lucky to have one of the best men ever.”
I didn’t want to tell Veronica that Andre had hit on me before. That conversation had to take place on another day, because I already had too much going on. I kept my mouth shut and allowed her the satisfaction of thinking she had the best man.
“I have to give it to you,” I said. “You did luck up on a decent man with Andre. Maybe one day I’ll be that lucky too. For now, it is what it is and my search continues.”
The man who kept looking at me winked as soon as the woman he was with lowered her head to look at the menu. I smiled and reached into my purse for a pen and dollar bill. I wrote my number on the bill and told Veronica I would be right back.
“Girl, what are you doing? You’re always up to something, Chase. You need to quit.”
“I know, but I can’t help myself. Attractive men with expensive taste excite me.”
&nbs
p; I laughed and swished my hips from side to side, as I made my way up to the table where the man sat. While standing next to the table, I squatted as if I had picked up the dollar from the floor.
“I think you may have dropped this,” I said to the man. “It was on the floor by your foot.”
He took the dollar from my hand. “Thanks. I appreciate that, and I’m going to make sure I don’t lose this dollar again.”
“You’re welcome. Consider it your lucky dollar.” I got a closer look at the woman, just to check out the competition. I was good—she looked like crap, so I smiled at her. “Enjoy your dinner. The crab cakes are really good. You should try them for your appetizer.”
The woman smiled and nodded. “Thanks. Maybe I will.”
I walked away with a vision of what the future might hold for me. Some things were positive, but pertaining to my return to Hell House, possibly some negativity too. Regardless, Jaylin would be there. Lord knows I was eager to be in his presence again.
While chilling by the poolside, watching my kids swim, I received a call from Jeff. He informed me that Jada had won the Hell House challenge. My goal was to relax all day, but the news about Jada winning had my mind racing.
“If you would like to, please bring her a present, congratulating her on her win,” Jeff said. “If you choose not to bring anything, that’s fine too.”
“Is there anything else I need to bring, other than myself?”
“No, Jaylin, I’ll see you in a few days.”
I hung up on Jeff and had to laugh at his comment about bringing a present. I wondered how that news went over with the others. I also thought about what Prince’s gift would be—probably a pistol to knock her off. I figured I’d better get all the rest I needed before returning to Hell House, so I laid back on the lounging chair and chilled. Dark sunglasses shielded my eyes, the sun continued to caramelize my body, and the soothing, peaceful sound of the ocean was what I had missed liked crazy. I missed my kids too, but with all of the bickering amongst them, I tried to tune them out.
The Reunion Show Page 10