“Get your fucking hands off me, bitch,” she screamed as she punched one of the female staffers in the midsection.
Another one tried to calm her down, only to be met with the new girl’s fist to her jaw, putting her to the floor. That’s when two male staff grabbed her from behind. Even they had a hard time with the feisty and rowdy girl.
“Why y’all catering to that mu’fucka’, I didn’t do shit!” she yelled as she kicked and scratched all the way out the dayroom.
Everyone laughed at the performance. Everyone except Treacherous. He had never met a female like her and admired her tenacity. She fought for what she believed in and said what others wished they could have said to him. Treacherous reflected on something he had read in a book: If you don’t stand for something then you’ll fall for anything. He knew the girl was only standing up for what she believed in. After everything had died down, Treacherous went back to his room where he felt most comfortable, picked up a book, and began to read. He couldn’t help but think about the girl who resembled his mother, who just caused so much trouble. Based on the stories his father had told him about her, he could see the new girl also shared his mother’s fire.
By lunch Treacherous had overheard how the staff had locked down the girl for forty-five days for the earlier incident.
He had also learned how much time she was serving by overhearing someone saying she was going to have a rough sixteen months in the institution. While eating lunch, he came across the girl’s name from the discussion the other girls were having at the table across from him. Treacherous thought the name Teflon to be peculiar for a girl, but then again, who was he to talk about names? His father had given him the reason behind his name and wondered what had possessed the girl’s parents to give her such a name.
Chapter Ten
Teflon laid across the bed with her arms folded, locked inside the little six-by-nine room. Out of all the places in the world she could be, she wondered how she landed herself in this hellhole, but she knew the answer to that: From dealing with a man, or let her tell it, a little boy who thought he was the man. That, and being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
All her life, as far back as she could remember, Teflon had to be on her grind and had to struggle looking after herself. The one time she let her guard down, thinking she had found true love, and let someone dictate how she should live and pump her up with all types of lies, selling her dreams and giving her false hope—that’s when her life changed drastically for the worse. The result was Teflon being sentenced to sixteen months in Norfolk Detention Center for possession with intent and aggravated assault with a weapon. Teflon didn’t mind being charged with the assault because she was guilty of that.
She smiled as she replayed the incident the day she was taken into custody. Teflon and her then boyfriend were just coming home after having an enjoyable dinner and evening at a popular restaurant in downtown Norfolk. As she unlocked her home and opened the door, she didn’t think anything of the darkness as they entered the two-bedroom condo her boyfriend had purchased for her as a birthday present under the table, in her name. As she reached for the light to illuminate her domain, she and her boyfriend were met with badges, guns, and a barrage of yelling. Both her and her boyfriend did as were told and hit the ground quick and fast. When the officer approached her and her boyfriend with the packaged drugs and asked the unforgettable question of whose drugs it was, Teflon—looking over to her boyfriend, confident he would step up to the plate, something he had always preached—she could not believe her ears. “That shit ain’t mine. I don’t live here. I’m just visiting my girl.” You would have thought he was Denzel Washington the way words came out of his mouth. Her now ex-boyfriend would always remember how he had did her dirty every time he looked in the mirror and saw the scar on his face that ran from the side of his eye down to the corner of his mouth, compliments of Teflon’s blade, which she kept in her mouth at all times, the way she used to see her mother do before they parted. Far from being a dummy, seeing that the fix was in, Teflon spit the razor into her hand just as quick as any veteran on Rikers Island and caught her ex across the face, good enough to send him to the hospital for 150 stitches, known as a buck fifty. The police maced Teflon with pepper spray to subdue her and carried her off to detention while they took her ex to the hospital.
He was charged with the drugs in the house as well but posted bail. Because she refused to tell who the drugs really belonged to and her ex had already given his statement, he beat his case and Teflon wore the weight. She couldn’t bring herself to snitch on somebody. It just wasn’t in her blood. She took the sixteen months they gave her and maintained her integrity and self-respect, compromising neither of the two. Neither of her parents were ever really there for her or told her anything to prepare her for the life that lay ahead of her, but what she knew about them both, she assumed they played the game fair, each playing their role and position.
As she lay in the bed she couldn’t help but think about the guy named Treacherous. It wasn’t her intention to beef with him the way she had, but he had caught her vein. She had an issue with the way people talked to her, males in particular. Her mother had instilled that inside of her and there was no exception to the rule. Besides, all that was built up inside of Teflon for her ex was released and directed toward him. Teflon realized she wasn’t even mad at him. She had no right to be because she barely knew him, other than what she had heard about him. He must think I’m crazy, she thought as she dwelled on the situation. Why was she so concerned about what he thought about her? She had no clue, but she promised herself when her forty-five-day room restriction was up she would step to him again, only with a different approach. Teflon laid back and closed her eyes. Images of her childhood haunted her, invading her mind as she slipped into a trance and began to relive her past.
Chapter Eleven
“Ho, I keep telling you I don’t give a fuck about that little bastard. What you better do is get your ass out there and get me my paper before I stomp a mud hole on your funky ass,” Popsicle barked.
Pearl held back her tears. Her eyes were filled with flames as she shot Popsicle a look of disgust. Ever since she had told him four years ago she was pregnant with his child he had been denying it, calling their daughter a bastard. But Pearl knew Teflon was his no matter how many tricks she turned. She always kept track of the times and days she and Popsicle made love. He was totally against her having the baby and on many occasions he even tried to stomp her into a miscarriage when she was four months, but was unsuccessful. That was why she named her daughter Teflon, on account of her surviving despite Popsicle’s attempts. After a while he left Pearl alone when he saw she continued to hump all the way through her pregnancy, and after not waiting for the required six weeks after she delivered to end. The older Teflon got, the lazier Pearl became in the streets, and Popsicle just wasn’t having it. He had invested a lot of time, energy, money, and pimp game into her to have her turn into a square broad on him. Before he allowed that to happen he would kill her and the bastard child.
Pearl was a runaway teen from New York who wanted to become a model and explore the world. She definitely looked the part, but her biggest downfall was she was as green as a pool-table carpet when it came to the streets and couldn’t recognize game when Popsicle rolled up on her in his cream-colored Cadillac with a beige vinyl top and interior to match. To Pearl, Popsicle was the best thing since a hot comb with his fly ride, sharp threads, and slick tongue. Popsicle was fourteen years her senior and a pimp from out of Pittsburgh. Using his pimp skills and taking advantage of her greenness, it was as easy as taking candy from a baby for Popsicle to manipulate Pearl into proving her love for him by selling her body to help support and contribute to his expensive tastes. Back then she would have done anything for Popsicle because she was young and in love, but as she got older, the streets had hardened her. She had gotten a heavy dose of reality the ten years she had been out in the streets, and the only thing she ha
d to show for it was a child whose father didn’t claim her, but little Teflon was her pride and joy. She had to tried to stop hooking when Teflon began getting older because that was not a part of her life she wanted her daughter to see, but being a woman of limited skills, this was all she felt she could do to feed and put clothes on her and her child’s back.
Popsicle had shattered her dreams of becoming a model when he gamed her into becoming a prostitute. Ever since he had taken her from New York to Pittsburgh, then eventually to Ventura, Pearl’s life had been a world of turmoil. She had been pulling back from the streets lately to spend more time with her daughter, but hearing the hostility in Popsicle’s voice as he yelled at her, Pearl knew her vacation from the ho stroll had come to an end. She knew if she didn’t get back out there full- time and bring a nice chunk of change home to Popsicle, he would try to hurt both her and Teflon, but she had no one to attend to her daughter, who was far too young to be left alone, so Pearl was faced with a dilemma.
“Daddy, I wanna make some money for you, baby, but who gonna look after my daughter?” said Pearl, carefully choosing her words, not wanting to anger Popsicle any more than he already was by referring to Teflon as their child.
Popsicle recognized the game Pearl was trying to run on him. That was the first time she had excluded him from the little bastard kid since she had her. He laughed at the thought of Pearl trying to stroke him the way she tried. At first, he was going to back-hand the taste out of her mouth for even thinking that she could run that weak-ass game on him, but he knew that she was immune to his smacks, punches, kicks, and occasional pimp hanger game, so he decided to hurt her in another way.
“Ho, don’t be worrying about this little bastard. Just take your ass out there and get my paper straight. I got her, and when you come back up in here, everything better be intact. I’ll be here waitin’ with your damn trick baby,” Popsicle stated.
It was unusual for him to be so quick to help her with anything—let alone with their child, she thought—but Pearl shook her notion off and looked at it as him just wanting her to go out and make his money. Had she not still been in love with Popsicle after all of these years and felt he still had her best interest at heart, she would’ve questioned and pondered his intent and motives. But in her mind, when it came to Popsicle, Pearl was still that young, naive seventeen-year-old he had found on the streets of New York years ago.
Teflon watched as her mother transformed right before her very eyes, exchanging her lounge-around-the house outfit, into a red tube top, black leather miniskirt, and black leather knee-high pumps, and where her mother’s hair was short- cropped and naturally black, it was replaced with a long, blond Chinese-bob wig. She smiled at how pretty her mommy looked as Pearl put on her blue eye shadow, red lipstick, and some blush to highlight her high cheekbones.
After she checked herself out in the mirror, Pearl transferred all her necessities from out of a green purse into a red shoulder bag, which would be the final accessory to her outfit. Pearl felt good. She admired herself in the mirror: the way her tight-fitted outfit hugged her body, as she hiked her skirt up more to become more revealing. She was dressed to kill and knew she would turn a lot of heads and a lot of tricks when she stepped on the scene tonight. Before she left, she walked over to Teflon.
“Baby girl, Mommy gotta go to work, but I’ll be back soon. Mr. Popsicle gonna watch you while I’m gone, so I want you to be on your best behavior, you hear me?” Pearl said to her daughter.
“Um-hmm,” answered Teflon in a childlike manner.
“Good. When I come back I’ll bring some cookies and ice cream with me. I know you’ll like that, right?”
Teflon’s eyes lit up at the sound of her favorite junk food being mentioned. If she intended to give Mr. Popsicle any trouble before, she had now changed her mind.
“Okay, now give your mommy a kiss and hug.”
Teflon reached out and embraced her mother. Pearl hugged Teflon with all her might. Pearl didn’t want to let her daughter go, but she knew she had a job to do. Besides, she did not want to hear Popsicle’s mouth. Pearl took one last look at herself and got into what she called her “ho zone.” It took all she had inside of her to release Teflon. Teflon did not want to let go of her mother, either. Pearl gave Teflon one last hug.
“Let Mommy get out of here, baby,” she said.
Teflon let go, and Pearl stood up and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt and adjusted her top. The whole time Popsicle stood there watching the scene between mother and daughter. He felt the child had made Pearl weak, but after tonight that would all change, he told himself.
“I love you, Teffy.”
“I love you too, Mommy.”
With that, Pearl made a beeline to the door. She looked at Popsicle before she left.
“Go on, ho, ’fo ya ass be in tears and you fuck ya makeup all up. I said I got her,” said Popsicle.
Pearl shot him a half smile. She knew if she stayed any longer and looked at her daughter she would in fact break down and cry, and change her plans to hit the streets, but then she would have to deal with Popsicle. With that thought she was out the door.
Teflon stared at the man her mother always referred to as Popsicle. She had seen him come and go her whole life. She was not old enough to understand what type of relationship her mother and this man had, but she had heard her mother say that she was his child too, on a few occasions, and she remembered how upset he would get at her mother whenever she said it to him. She didn’t know what the words meant at the time when Popsicle would call her mother ho and bitch or refer to her as bastard, but Teflon knew that they were not good words and wondered why the man would talk to her mother and about her like that. In spite of all the yelling and bad words he used, Teflon was not afraid of Popsicle, which was why she walked over to him.
Popsicle was in the kitchen mixing up a concoction when Teflon approached him. Hearing her little footsteps caused him to turn around.
“Mr. Popsicle, are you my daddy?” asked Teflon.
Popsicle was thrown by the question. He didn’t think that a child so young would ask such a thing.
“Yeah, baby girl, I’m your daddy,” he said as gentle as any father could.
“So why you always call my mommy bad names when she say that?”
Popsicle laughed to himself. He couldn’t believe how smart the little girl was and wondered could she have really been his kid, but immediately dismissed the thought. Even if she was his kid it wouldn’t make a difference. He would never claim to have fathered a child by a whore. That’s what Pearl was to him. He knew he had to answer her questions if he wanted her to trust him.
“That’s how me and your mommy play. She knows I don’t mean it. I love her.”
Hearing that melted Teflon’s six-year-old heart. She had never heard anyone say that they loved her mother besides her, and that won her over.
“She loves you too, Daddy,” replied Teflon, hugging him by the knees.
Popsicle disregarded what Teflon had said to him. His coldheartedness overpowered his conscience.
“Baby girl, Daddy made you something,” Popsicle said as he grabbed a glass and handed to her. “Drink this.”
Teflon looked at the glass. Chocolate milk was one of her favorite desserts but it looked darker than the regular chocolate milk she was used to her mother making her.
“Daddy, what is it?” she asked innocently.
“It’s a special drink. Daddy drinks it all the time,” Popsicle said. Teflon took the glass and examined it before she attempted to drink the liquid. She had no way of knowing the drink consisted of rat poison, Visine, and ammonia, mixed with milk and Nestlé Quik. Popsicle was becoming impatient with Teflon’s examination. He was tempted to grab her by the neck and force the poison down her throat, but he knew that foul play could easily be detected if he did it that way, so he had to let things play out by themselves. Satisfied with her examination, Teflon began raising the glass to her lips, only to be st
opped by her mother’s voice.
Pearl began walking the streets of Portsmouth en route to her normal stomping grounds. This was where she usually made her most money. As she got a few blocks down from her apartment her mind began to drift. Something wasn’t sitting right with her; she just couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but she could feel it. Out of force of habit she began looking around to see if she was being followed or something of the sort. Being out on the streets for so long, her senses and awareness had become keen. She had become accustomed to staying on point when she was out there running them. Paranoia swept through her entire body like a jolt of lightning, and she began to get the chills. For the life of her, Pearl couldn’t figure out why she was feeling this way. The last time she had felt this way was when Popsicle had tried to make her lose her baby. It took her two weeks before she had hit the streets again. At the thought of the beating Popsicle had put on her over four years ago, Pearl began to wonder why she had agreed to leave her pride and joy in his care, then it all came together like a Ku Klux Klan meeting. Popsicle intended to hurt her baby. Pearl immediately turned around and began running back to her apartment, which was only five blocks away. Her mother’s intuition began to kick in full-speed as she frantically raced back to the apartment. She would never be able to live with herself if something was to happen to Teflon. She told herself if one hair was touched on her daughter, Popsicle would not live either.
Her high-heel pumps clicked and clanked the way a tap dancer’s shoes does against the pavement. Her strides were long and athletic, and before she knew it she had arrived back at her apartment in record-breaking time, without even being out of breath. She chalked it up as a mother’s love because in the midst of a child’s danger, superhuman strength is given to a parent to aid them. She ran up the three flights, skipping every other step and reached her apartment. When she opened up the door, she saw Popsicle standing in front of her daughter in the kitchen area while Teflon stood there with a glass in her hands.
Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 1: The Story of Treacherous and Teflon Page 7