“Tef,” she shouted, causing Teflon to withdraw the glass from her lips.
“Mommy! You back,” Teflon yelled, both happy and surprised to be seeing her mother.
“Come here, baby,” said Pearl.
Teflon walked toward her mother with the glass still in her hands. When Pearl saw the drink she questioned Teflon about it, taking the glass from her.
“Daddy made it for me. He says it’s special, and he said he loves you too,” Teflon childishly said.
“Oh he did, did he?”
“Um-hmm.”
Pearl was convinced that Popsicle was tying to kill his own daughter. Hearing Teflon call him Daddy and telling her that he loved Pearl only confirmed how he got her daughter to trust him to consider drinking what he had made for her in the glass.
Pearl smelled the liquid and caught the whiff of the ammonia. Only God and Popsicle knew what else was in the mixture. Pearl and Popsicle stared at each other.
“Tef, go get your coat, baby. We leavin’,” Pearl said as she stared at Popsicle.
Teflon ran and did as her mother said.
“Ho, you ain’t goin’ nowhere,” shot Popsicle. Stepping in her direction, he pulled his .32 from behind his back. He pointed it toward Pearl’s head. When he reached her, he grabbed her by the neck.
“Ho, you think you can just leave like that? I’ll kill your funky ass first. You and that little bastard whore,” shouted Popsicle as he cocked the hammer back on the pistol. Just as he did, Teflon came from out of the back room. Popsicle swung his gun in her direction. Believing that he was about to shoot her daughter, Pearl swung into combat mode. She spit out the razor she had in her mouth and caught Popsicle on the jugular, which caused Popsicle to swing his gun back on Pearl.
Reflexively, he let off two shots into Pearl’s exposed midsection. Pearl instantly bellied over and fell to the floor. Popsicle then pressed his hand to his neck and began searching for something to compress the wound before he lost too much blood, as Teflon ran over to her mother.
“Mommy! Mommy!” she cried as she dropped to her knees. “Mommy, wake up!”
But Pearl did not move. The two bullets that riddled her body had killed her on impact, not even giving her time to realize what was taking place.
Seeing that her mother was not moving or listening to her, Teflon sat on the floor and lifted her mother’s head as she placed it in her lap. Tears began to fall down her face as she stroked her mother’s blond wig, rocking her back and forth the way Pearl use to do her. Out the corner of her eye, Teflon noticed Popsicle exiting the apartment with a towel pressed against his neck. Despite it being white, the towel was mostly red, Teflon noticed. That was the last time she had ever seen either of her parents again.
At age ten, Teflon was all alone, forced to turn to the streets. Games her mother had taught her and told her when she had been out with her on a few occasions while Pearl was out working invaded Teflon’s mind. Games Pearl had shown her during the times when they were hungry and her mother’s job wasn’t going too well and Popsicle refused to feed them. “Go back there and get what you want while Mommy talks to the nice man at the counter, but make sure you hide it from me and show me later so it can be a surprise,” Teflon remembered her mother whispering to her. “Here, open this, and let’s see who can win by eating it the fastest. Ready—one, two, three, go!” was another game she recalled.
Teflon would have never imagined the game she disliked the most would later become a major asset to her as life progressed. “Tef, we’re going to play a trick on that man over there. I want you to walk up to that nice white man and tell him you’re lost and you need somewhere to sleep tonight.” The first time, Teflon questioned her mother with tears in her eyes, thinking Pearl was abandoning her, but Pearl assured her she would never leave her. “Just trust Mommy, okay, precious?” Pearl answered, taking Teflon’s face into the palms of her hands with tears filling her own eyes. Pearl hated having to use her pride and joy to fend for them in the streets. Although she wished things could be different for her little girl, she knew in her mind and felt in her heart that someday Teflon would have face what the streets consisted of. When that time came she wanted her to be ready.
“Excuse me, mister,” Teflon would start out, gaining the trick’s attention. Teflon did not understand why the man had been looking at her in the fashion he had when she first approached him. The look stemmed from the thought of bedding a young girl. It was the same look Teflon had noticed in every man’s eyes that she and her mother had played the trick on.
“Yes, little lady, how may I help you?” they would all ask differently.
“I’m lost and have nowhere to go. Can I sleep at your house tonight?” Teflon would ask innocently. Pearl would stand watching from afar with anger and pain intertwining in her eyes while her stomach twisted in knots. God forbid someone snatched her daughter and she was unable to get a shot off with the .22 caliber she possessed.
“Why, sure you can, li’l darling,” they would answer hesitantly as they looked around, making sure they were not being watched as they intended to do the unthinkable.
“Where’s your mommy or daddy?” some of them would ask, but Pearl had prepared Teflon for the rebuttal. “I don’t have one. Would you be my daddy?”
That often did the trick. “Yes, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. I’ll be your daddy,” was usually the response.
Just as the strangers warmed up to Teflon, Pearl would pop up and make a scene, threatening to call the police unless she was paid off with hush money. Sometimes things turned out differently and Pearl actually had to turn her con into a robbery. Teflon visited old areas that her mother frequented when they were out all night. Teflon remembered the many nights they had slept in some of the apartments that were boarded up with no traces of heat or electricity.
“Stay here, Mommy gotta go make some money,” Pearl would tell her. And when the sun came up Teflon would wake to a bagel or breakfast sandwich. For the first two years on her own, Teflon went from one abandoned apartment to another. When she wasn’t trying to catch a few hours of rest she was out trying to scrounge up her next meal. At age thirteen Teflon blossomed into an even prettier girl. She still possessed the clothes she had taken years prior, which belonged to her mother. She had grown right into the designer garments. By then Teflon had discovered what it was her mother actually did for a living. Though she still used the tricks and trades that were handed down to her by Pearl, Teflon was smart enough to know she wanted no parts of prostitution, but pretended to.
Teflon became extremely good at propositioning men who bought sex for money. She was now old enough and experienced enough in the streets to know the familiar look that all men possessed when they looked at her. Teflon had actually learned the true meaning when a trick tried to abduct her. Fortunately for her, she had inherited her mother’s fast wit and instinct, not to mention her expertise with a razor. Teflon was able to break free of the would-be abductor by slicing the side of his face open like a cantaloupe, all in one motion and movement of the head. It was that incident that bettered her situation. As luck would have it, when she dug into the trick’s pocket as he was on the ground screaming in agony, she retrieved a wad of cash consisting of twenty-five hundred crisp one-hundred dollar bills. But what Teflon didn’t know at the time was that just as she had inherited her mother’s hustling skills, she had also inherited her soft heart. It was the same heart that caused Teflon to find herself in the detention center after meeting Mike a year later. Mike, known as Blue Mike, was a tall, athletic built nineteen-year-old young hustler from Virginia Beach who was on the rise in the streets of Virginia.
His dark complexion and favorite color coined him the nickname Blue. At the time, Teflon had no interest or ties with the drug side of the streets, and he was a loner with no friends. She had never heard or seen the Morris Chestnut look-alike, not until that uneventful day they had literally ran into each other during Labor Day weekend on the strip of Virgi
nia Beach.
The summer was coming to an end and Virginia Beach’s main strip was flooded with bodies up and down the boulevard. Females young and old wore next to nothing with designer purses in hand and bags thrown over their shoulders, while guys over-accessorized with authentic and fake platinum and iced-out shines and rocked the latest designer gear. From Benzes to Beamers and Bentleys to Porsches and Aston Martins, everything cruised the strip, driven by young brothers who had some of the baddest black sisters in the country riding shotgun. This was the last major event of the summer before going back to school or in some cases back to the block of their respected hoods or wherever they conducted their illegal businesses. Those who attended were eager to make their visit to the beach area a memorable one. Brothers were looking for the best jump-off to add to their collection of stories of previous events, and the females were looking for that no-strings-attached fling or major come-up hoping to catch an out-of-state or in-town baller. Blue Mike was there for those same reasons. This was his third year attending, but this was his first coming correct.
Mike had first hit the Virginia Beach festival when he was sixteen. It was also the year and event that encouraged him to get in the game after seeing so many young brothers flossing and the females overlooking him, not giving him the time of day. The second year, Blue Mike hit the scene with his burgundy Acura Legend coupe sitting on three-star Antera rims. He had hustled all year to scrape up the cash to buy the whip and rims just for the Virginia Beach affair he remembered. Blue Mike had never been shown so much love from other hustlers and gotten so many numbers and one-night stands from so many fine women in his life as he did that three-day weekend. Blue Mike was among the elite in his home state, climbing the ladder in the drug trade, after he had robbed and allegedly murdered some Jamaican dealers from out of Brooklyn for 200 pounds of exotic weed and a 100-plus grand. He was stepping on the scene with his latest toy, a black Acura NSX. Blue Mike had fallen in love with Acuras. He liked the way they rode and how reliable they were.
At first, Blue Mike hadn’t noticed the girl running toward his car until he began making a slow turn to the right. As she got closer, the look on her face told Blue Mike the girl was in distress. When he dropped his head low to lock in the miniature commotion, the three familiar faces trailing the girl confirmed his suspicion. Mike was a sucker for a pretty face, big butt, and smile, and the girl possessed all three. Just as the three angry-looking dudes caught up to the pretty girl, Blue Mike sprung into action.
“Yo, where you been?” he directed to the girl as he hopped outta the car. Recognizing Mike, the three young hustlers ceased pursuit.
Exhausted and out of gas, despite not knowing what he was talking about, the pretty girl was thankful he had aided her. She knew she had no more juice left in her legs after running for what seemed like an hour straight.
“Blue, she with you?” one of the hustlers asked in disbelief.
“Yeah. Didn’t you know that?” Blue Mike shot back.
Passersby slowed to get an earful of the confrontation.
“Not me,” one of the other hustlers quickly stated.
“Me neither, dawg,” the third hustler said.
“What happened?” Mike was curious to know. Just as the three hustlers knew of Mike’s reputation, he also knew of theirs. Mike knew the three were by far no cowards and were also known for putting in work. Fortunately for him, he had his Glock tucked in his lower back in case things took a turn for the worse.
“Nah, it wasn’t about nothing,” the first hustler answered. If this was Blue Mike’s girl, there was no way he could tell him that he had pushed up on his girl, how they had been chilling together for the past few hours, how they had gone back to his room with the intentions of sexing, and how he had came out of the shower just in time to catch her emptying out his linen pants pockets and snatching up his jewels, which led to him calling up his boys and their taking pursuit.
“So why was you chasin’ her?” Mike asked. He knew the hustler was lying and why, but Mike just wanted to know.
“It’s mistaken identity. We thought she was someone else,” the hustler continued to lie. In his mind, he had already chalked what the girl had stuck him for back at the hotel up as a loss. Besides, the jewels weren’t real and there was only 110 dollars in his pockets. A small price to pay to prevent a war over a female, thought the hustler.
“It happens,” Blue Mike remarked slyly. The girl let out a sigh of relief. “Yo, get in the car,” he told her. She looked at him as if he were crazy. He shot her a look back that forced her to weigh her options. The three hustlers watched as the pretty girl opened Blue Mike’s car door and got in. Now convinced she was in fact with him, the hustlers all dispersed and faded into the crowd.
“So what was that all about?”
“Nothing,” she answered nonchalantly.
“Okay, if that’s how you want it, but I don’t get no thanks or nothing?”
“Look, if that’s what this is about, you can pull over right here. I ain’t no trick, and I can handle myself,” she snapped.
“Whoa, whoa, I ain’t the enemy, baby.” Mike laughed.
“It’s cool. You want me to pull over, I will, but I wasn’t tryin’a say you owe me nothing. I did what I did because that’s just me. I wouldn’t feel right lettin’ you out right here knowing them dudes might spot you again and put two and two together. Just tell me where you wanna go and I’ll drop you off, no strings attached.”
Mike was turned on by the pretty girl’s feistiness. Though he would comply with any request, he really didn’t want her to leave his side. She was glad Mike had clarified things. She found him to be very attractive and would’ve hated to spit her blade out and distort his handsome face, though she had no problems doing so.
“So where to?”
“I’m hungry,” she said.
“Not a problem.” Mike couldn’t believe his luck. He hadn’t been on the strip ten minutes and already had bagged who he thought to be the baddest female out there.
“You got a name?”
She contemplated what name she would give. She had so many to choose from. That was something she had adopted from her mother. “Teflon.”
Mike stared at her for a minute. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. You got a problem with my name?” she snapped.
“Nah, baby, that’s some fly shit. I thought you just made it up.”
Teflon smiled for the first time since he had come to her rescue.
“You got a name?” she mocked him.
“Yeah, it’s Mike. People call me Blue Mike, though.”
“I wonder why,” Teflon joked.
“Yeah, me too.”
Teflon and Mike spent the remainder of the day together. After that, the two were nearly inseparable. Teflon never told Mike what she was into prior to their meeting or what took place that day on the strip and Mike never asked. Had he known, it might have made a difference. For the first time in her life, Teflon was really happy. Mike saw to it that she wanted for nothing. Not used to having anyway, there was not too much Teflon wanted in the first place besides the love of Mike. She was really thankful for the fact that she no longer had to live the type of life she had been before she and Mike had met. In him, she had a boyfriend and father figure all wrapped in one and that was fine by her. She didn’t care what he did outside of their household, because at the end of the day he always found his way back in and took care of home base.
Being a hustler’s wifey definitely had its perks, thought Teflon, and she was content with her position. But the flip side of the game never dawned on her until the day she and Mike came home from their favorite restaurant. Now Teflon sat in the detention center on room lock with hatred and resentment toward Blue Mike and all other hustlers. Teflon vowed to never get involved with a drug dealer ever again and told herself it was better to stick to what she knew best. She couldn’t wait for the next sixteen months to go by.
Chapter Twelve
Treacherous scratched the day’s date off his calendar as soon as he woke. He had been counting down the forty-five days they had given the new girl, and now those days were up. Throughout that time he had done less reading and more working out, trying to get better toned. He had always had a nice chiseled physique, but it was something about Teflon that caused him to want to work out harder. He went from doing a thousand push-ups a day to doing fifteen hundred, along with increasing his crunches from 750 a day to a thousand, adding to his washboard stomach. When he had weighed himself two days before, he had gone up from 170 pounds to 182 pounds solid with only 10 percent body fat. Treacherous was impressed with the twelve pounds in forty-five days of bulk he had put on. Dropping down, doing 120 push-ups in one set, Treacherous was ready to hit the chow hall, anticipating it being a good day.
The staff was a little leery about allowing Teflon to return to general population, especially not knowing how Treacherous would react to seeing the girl again, so they decided to monitor both of their behavior and would be alert for anything. The last thing they wanted to see was Treacherous half killing the little feisty young girl.
Carl Weber Presents Ride or Die Chick 1: The Story of Treacherous and Teflon Page 8