Gangsta Divas

by De'nesha Diamond

  “What?”

  “Oh, now your ass can speak?” I rock my head and then jab a finger in the center of his chest. “Then tell me this: how the fuck do you know Maybelline?”

  He blinks.

  “And think real hard before you spit out a lie. My ass ain’t stupid.”

  He blinks faster.

  “You’ve fucked her,” I answer for him.

  “What?” He tries to laugh the shit off. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Maybelline fixes flapjacks for niggas after she finishes fuckin’ them. Now here you are, asking me for flapjacks?”

  “All right. All right. My bad. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I stare him down.

  “A’ight,” he gives in. “Peaches and I had a little thing a while back—and then she dumped me for that nigga we murked last night at her crib. Bet they asses ain’t laughing now. Payback is a bitch.”

  I don’t fuckin’ believe what the fuck I’m hearing.

  “What’s the big deal? The shit is over with.” He steps closer and pinches my titties. “I’m with you now.”

  “So you left my sister’s bed to crawl up in mine?” Fuckin’ story of my life.

  “Well, it wasn’t exactly like that.”

  “Uh, huh. And now you want me to fix you flapjacks like Maybelline used to do for you,” I shoot back to make sure I got the shit straight. “Were you comparing me to her when you were eating my pussy, too?” I reach over to the ten-slot butcher block and whip out the biggest knife. “Go ahead and lie. I dare your ass.”

  “Whoa. Whoa.” He backs up.

  “Don’t fuckin’ ‘whoa’ me, Arzell. Go ahead and speak your mind.You done already told me that I was a lousy muthafickin’ parent a few minutes ago. What else do you got to say? I want to fuckin’ hear it.”

  “I didn’t say no such a thing.” His face twists harder as he backs up.

  “Oh. So I’m fuckin’ crazy now? I’m just hearing shit, is that it? Is that what you’re saying?” I feel the muscles in my face twitching.

  Arzell eyeballs the knife in my hand and I read in his face that he’s going to make a move for it a full second before he launches.

  Big fuckin’ mistake. I wield a blade second to none. He moves and in the next second, the butcher knife is sticking out the center of his chest. He looks at me all shocked and shit.

  “Tell the devil to fix your ass some flapjacks.”

  10

  Ta′Shara

  “Please, let me go. She’s not dead yet. She’s not dead,” I warn, tossing and jerking against my restraints. In fact, I can’t stop moving. The muscles in my body feel as if they are wired to a battery completely separate from my mind. After a night of this, I’m exhausted.

  Every once in a while I manage to close my eyes. In those few precious seconds my soul would float above my body and I could see the sweaty mess that I was: jabbering nonsense and practically foaming at the mouth.

  I could even see outside the door where Tracee wept in the nook of her husband’s arms while he hugged her tight and whispered words of comfort. I bet that he really regrets ever bringing me and LeShelle into their lives.

  I don’t blame him.

  Once LeShelle tried to prove to me that Reggie was just another closeted pedophile and set out to seduce him. That shit backfired and she ran away before the Douglases had the chance to send her back to Children’s Services. She wanted me to leave with her, but the Douglases had been good to me. I wanted to believe their bullshit about how I could be anything I set my mind to.

  It was the first time I chose someone over LeShelle.

  Profit had been the second time—and apparently the last time.

  The medical staff recanted their versions of what had happened to the police. None of them understood a damn thing. And every time I try to explain it to them, my words get jumbled up. It’s all the damn drugs they’ve pumped into me.

  “Please, please,” I sob. “I have to kill her.” Those are the words I’m trying to say, but I mentally know that’s not matching the gibberish flowing out my mouth. I have to keep trying to warn them. LeShelle isn’t going to go away. She’s evil. Pure and simple. I didn’t understand that before, but I do now. Just like I understand that I have to be the one to bring her down.

  I have no choice.

  I am twitching and sweating like a junkie, and my brain is begging for sleep. Maybe after I get some sleep I’ll be able to get my mouth to work and explain everything to these dumb people.

  “Please. Please. If I don’t kill her, she’s going to kill me. Why don’t you people understand that?”

  The door to my room bursts open and three men in long white coats stroll in with their noses high in the air. Maybe they have been able to understand me after all and they’re coming to set me free. Another voice inside my head cackles at that thought. Nothing about these dudes reads understanding, freedom, or compassion.

  If anything, they are as dangerous to me as LeShelle.

  “Get away from me,” I warn, but again the words tumbling out of my mouth don’t match those that are in my head.

  “Calm down, Ms. Murphy,” the one white doctor with pale blue eyes says. “No one here is going to hurt you.”

  “Bullshit!”

  He jumps back as if I tried to bite him. Wait. Maybe I did. Fuck it. It serves his ass right. I don’t want to be up in this bitch anyway.

  The good doctor’s face flushes with embarrassment as he shares an awkward laugh with his white-coat friends. “All right. All right. Let’s take it down a notch,” he says, trying again. This time, when his hands come toward me, I jerk my face away.

  “A little help here,” he barks at his sidekicks.

  The next thing I know, multiple hands come at me. I bite at a couple of them, but in the end, they manage to hold my head straight while Mr. Blue Eyes flashes light into my eyes. The shit triggers a memory of LeShelle’s gun flashing....

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

  Profit jumped and wiggled around as bullet after bullet slammed into him. His face was filled with rage as he glared at LeShelle. If he could have reached her, he would have torn her apart limb by limb with his bare hands. At long last, there was an audible click when the evil bitch ran out of bullets. However, to everyone’s disbelief, Profit remained standing—but barely.

  “What the fuck?” one nigga marveled.

  The shit spooked the small crowd as they stared open-mouthed at Profit. Hope blossomed in my chest, but then died when Profit wobbled on his weakening legs. Blood streamed from his mouth.

  “Profit.” I took advantage of my shocked captors and scrambled out of their grasp. But by that time, my man dropped to his knees like a stone and his eyes slowly rolled toward mine.

  The doctor removes the light from my eyes and the memory fades, but not before fresh tears roll from my eyes.

  “Let’s get her one more shot of Cogentin,” Dr. Blue Eyes says, pulling out a syringe from nowhere. The size of the needle gets my ass twitching even harder.

  The door bursts open again and Tracee rushes in looking like I felt. “What the fuck are you doin’?”

  Even in my state of mind, I am shocked to hear her use such language.

  “Mrs. Douglas, we’re going to have to ask you step out of the room.”

  “No! You told me that you wouldn’t give her any more drugs,” she shouts.

  “This is for her own good,” he says, leveling her with a look of superiority.

  “No!” Tracee wedges herself between him and the bed. “No more drugs! REGGIE!”

  Reggie walks into the room. His expression reads that he’d rather not be dragged into a dispute between the doctor and his wife.

  “Reggie, tell him to put that damn thing away. They will not continue to dope her up.”

  The doctors shift their attention to Reggie.

  He hesitates.

  Tracee’s confidence fades. “Honey, tell them!”

  After another beat of s
ilence, her face collapses into disbelief. “Reggie?” Her voice is edged with a final warning.

  Reggie licks his lips and slides his hands into his pants pockets. “Tracee, baby. Maybe the doctors know what’s best for her.”

  “What?”

  His lip-licking becomes a nervous tic. “All I’m saying, baby, is that . . . she isn’t herself right now.”

  “No shit, Sherlock,” she snaps back. “That’s because they’re pumping her full of God knows what.”

  “Tracee, she tried to kill her own sister. God knows what else she’s capable of. She’s dangerous right now. It could have been you instead of LeShelle. Have you thought about that?” he asks, thinking he’s found the right argument. “It could’ve been you lying in the hospital on life support.”

  She looks at him as if she doesn’t recognize him. “Ta’Shara would have never attacked me.”

  Reggie steps forward. “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do!”

  “Mrs. Douglas,” Dr. Blue Eyes tries again. “We really are trying to give her the best care.” He pats her on the shoulder, but she knocks his hand away.

  “Don’t touch me,” she barks. “And you’re not giving my daughter any more fucking drugs. Do you hear me?” She cuts her narrowed gaze toward her husband.

  The doctor glances at Reggie for help.

  “Don’t look at him. I’m speaking. No drugs. DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?”

  Lying here and listening to this exchange, I feel my heart swell with both pride and love. She called me her daughter. Watching her fight so hard for me causes more tears to speed down my face.

  “No more drugs,” Reggie agrees. No doubt he finally realizes his marriage depends on him backing his wife’s position.

  Tracee’s shoulders droop with relief, but her upturned chin swivels toward the doctors.

  Sighing, Dr. Blue Eyes caps his syringe and then gives her a disappointed glower. “As you wish.” He glances at his companions and signals for them to follow him back out of the room.

  When the three of us are left alone,Tracee tears into Reggie. “Thanks for having my back, honey.”

  At least he has the decency to look contrite. “C’mon, baby—”

  “Don’t fuckin’ ‘baby’ me,” she snaps, giving him her back to stare down at me.

  I wish I could smile instead of twitch my appreciation for what she’s done. When she reaches to brush my sweat-drenched hair away from my face, I do manage not to bite her hand off.

  “It’s going to be all right,”Tracee tells me with a smile.“No one is going to hurt you as long as I’m around.”

  I believe her.

  Behind her, Reggie huffs out a frustrated breath, which pulls Tracee’s attention back to him. “And you. I’ve never been more disappointed in all my life.”

  “Baby—”

  Tracee shoves him back. “I swear to God if you call me baby one more time, I’m going to scream.” She cocks her head. “Then again, maybe you’d like that.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. Then maybe you’ll have them rush in here and restrain me and pump me full of drugs so you won’t have to deal with me, either.”

  “Okay. Now you’re talking crazy.”

  “See? There you go. I’m crazy.” She twirls her fingers around the side of her head.

  Reggie doesn’t have a response to that—or maybe he is too scared to say what he’s really thinking.

  “Let me ask you, Reggie. Do you think that children are disposable?”

  His face twists in outrage. “That’s cr—” He clears his throat. “Of course not.”

  “Then why are you acting like we should run away from Ta’Shara because she’s having problems right now?”

  “I never said that. I just said that maybe the doctors know what’s best for her right now. I’m not a doctor. Are you a doctor?”

  “Doctors don’t know every fuckin’ thing.”

  “No. But they may know more about how to deal with someone suddenly coming out of a damn near comatose state to try and kill someone.”

  “Yeah. Someone who probably has something to do with her even being here.”

  “Oh, please.” Reggie tosses up his hands. “We don’t know that. It’s more likely it has something to do with that Raymond kid that took her to prom. You’ve seen the news. His brother is some big-time gangbanger and he’s likely one as well. That would explain what really happened at that shoot-out at the hospital last year. Face it. He’s every bit the gangster his brother is . . . and I let you talk me into letting him take Ta’Shara to the prom.” He’s on a roll and starts pacing.

  “So now this is all my fault?”

  He doesn’t answer.

  “Ohmigod,”Tracee exclaims, flabbergasted.

  “I didn’t say that it’s your fault,” Reggie relents.

  “You’re definitely insinuating it.”

  “No. No. I’m just saying that . . . we’re waaaay over our heads in this situation. Suddenly it’s like we’re surrounded by gangsters. First the hospital shoot-out, then Ta’Shara is raped, and then her best friend is blown up at a gas station and now this shit? We’re waaaay over our heads and I resent your standing there holier than thou and casting judgment on me. Have you given one thought to what we’re going to do when we take her home? That Raymond kid has been calling ever since he came out of his coma.You have any idea how we’re going to keep those two apart?”

  My heart stops. Profit is alive?

  11

  Qiana

  “What the fuck did you tell him?” Lil Bit asks wide-eyed in the middle of my kitchen. “You didn’t tell him the truth, did you?”

  “Do I have stupid stamped on the center of my forehead?” I hand her the screaming baby. “Please do something about him.”

  Her face twists in horror. “Like what?”

  “Like shut him up. I can’t get him to stop hollering.” I rub at my temples because they feel like they are just seconds from exploding. What in the fuck did I get myself into?

  “Maybe he’s just hungry,” Lil Bit suggests. “Have you tried to feed him?”

  “Of course I’ve tried.” I gesture to the mess I’ve made on the counter with the baby formula we picked up last night. “He wouldn’t drink the shit.”

  “Did you heat it up?”

  “What?”

  “Ohmigod, Qiana. Do you know nothing about taking care of a baby?” Lil Bit laughs.

  “You mean do I know anything about taking care of a baby. Jeez.” I roll my eyes.

  “Whatever,” she barks back. “If you spent more time thinking through your harebrained schemes as much as you do correcting my English, you’ll be ahead of the curve.”

  “Fuck you,” I snap, defensively. “And the answer to your question is no. Why in the hell would I know about babies? I ain’t out here tryna raise a bunch of seeds.”

  “But you’re out there, cutting them out of bitches’ stomachs?” She laughs. “I’m glad you set me straight on that shit.” She turns her attention to the baby. “Here you go,” Lil Bit says, pulling out a tit and rubbing the nipple in the baby’s face. “Go ahead, l’il man. It’s all right,” she coos.

  I watch this shit with a fried brain. I always heard these little fuckers can be a pain in the ass, but goddamn! How do bitches do it? This loud muthafucka hasn’t stopped screaming since I opened my eyes two hours ago.

  At long last the baby quiets down and latches onto Lil Bit’s limp tit and starts sucking with everything he got.

  “Thank God,” I moan.

  Lil Bit thrusts up her chin. “I told you he was hungry.”

  “What the fuck ever. Your ass is hired. You take care of him.”

  Lil Bit shakes her head. “Fuck that. I got three of my own at my granny’s house. She done told me if I brought another crumb-snatcher in her house she was putting me out. Sorry, girl. I can’t help you on this one.”

  “Fuck. I need to get better friends.” I push myself up out of the chai
r and shuffle to the refrigerator and pull out the grape Kool-Aid. Some niggas need coffee or a cold beer to start their day. For me, this is the shit that gets me gassed up in the morning. This . . . and a Hot Pocket. “You want one?” I ask Lil Bit, holding up the box.

  She shakes her head. “Nah. I’m good.”

  “Suit yourself.” I pour a glass and then throw my breakfast into the microwave.

  “So what did you tell your brother this morning?” Lil Bit presses. “After he spotted the clothes, you had to tell him something.”

  I lean against the counter and cross my arms. “I ain’t got to do shit. He ain’t my fuckin’ daddy.”

  The second I say that shit, Nookie’s new bitch screams out with another throaty orgasm.

  My face heats. The crippled muthafucka never cared about embarrassing me in front of my friends. For most of my life, they were subjected to listening to the sex moans coming from his bedroom as much as Charlie and I were.

  “Speaking of daddy, I’m not telling his ass shit, either,” I amend my comment.

  Lil Bit shakes her head. “You know, I’m always amazed that your father never suffers from lockjaw. I’ve never heard of anyone eating as much pussy as he does.”

  “At least we know how he got his name.”

  Lil Bit laughs and I can’t help but join her on that shit.

  KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

  “Be back,” I tell Lil Bit and go answer the door. Now that the baby has stopped screaming, my nerves are settling down. I open the front door to see Tombstone’s current flame and baby momma GG standing on the other side.

  She flashes me a quick smile. “Hey, Qiana, girl. Is your brother home?”

  “Nah. He’s out handlin’ some business for Bishop,” I tell her.

  “Business for Bishop or Lucifer?” she asks, unable to keep her jealousy in check.

  We all know that my brother has been feeling Lucifer for a long time. “He said Bishop.”

  “Humph.” GG settles a hand on her thick hips and glances down Ruby Cove. “I saw one missed call from him on my cell phone, but now when I call him he’s not pickin’ up. Do you know if he’s comin’ right back?”