Not trying to hear a word she was saying, I broke her trance when I got directly in her face and started screaming at her. “Do you think it’s okay for someone to do this to you? And then you try to protect him? Tell me now, goddamit!” I screamed again. “Who did this to you?” The look in my eyes had to be raging because my insides felt like they were on fire.
I think I surprised her with my rage because she had shock in her eyes. “Mya, I’m still your mother regardless of my fucked life,” she said, her voice still calm.
“Right now you are acting like a teenager, Ma, but you don’t have to tell me who did this to you. I already know. This got Squeeze’s name all over it.” I turned to leave the room, but before I did she started talking.
“He came over while y’all was gone, okay? Is that what you wanna hear, Mya?” With agonizing pain written across her face she repositioned herself on the bed. “We had sex. When we were finished he went to the bathroom to take a shower. He came outta the bathroom and started getting dressed, and then he went into his pants’ pocket and started counting his stack. All of a sudden he starts accusing me of stealing from him. I told him I didn’t touch his stuff. And, Mya, I swear I didn’t.” She looked me straight in eye convincingly.
“I didn’t move out of this bed when he went into that bathroom. I would never steal from a crazy-ass nigga, but he wouldn’t listen to me, Mya.” She started to cry. Seeing my momma cry sent me into more tears. “The next thing I know he was punching me. I must’ve passed out sometime during the beating. I don’t know what happened after that. When I woke up, Monica was standing over me screaming.”
“I knew he did this.” I broke down on the floor. “I hate living here. I hate our life.” At that moment everything my dad said to me suddenly seemed clear. These streets were grimy, and the only thing that was free in the street was hurt and pain. I stood up, wiped my face, and walked toward my mother’s bedroom door.
Mom jumped off the bed and grabbed me with her good hand. Unable to see straight because of that swollen eye and the pain she stumbled. “Mya, don’t tell Li’l Bo. I’m afraid for him, and if knows he might try to kill Squeeze. I don’t want to see him locked up or shot up by the Boone Squad. I just couldn’t take it.” She reached out and wrapped her good arm around me. For the first time in four years I felt like I had my momma back.
I quickly released myself from her embrace. “Even though Squeeze deserves exactly what he’ll get one day, I won’t tell Li’l Bo. But only because I love my brother. I don’t give a fuck about Squeeze or what may happen to him.”
I opened the door and left her room with a calm feeling that for some reason sent chills down my spine.
Chapter 7
Waking up early this morning, the first and only thing on my mind was getting on my grind. I had shit that I needed to put into place, and I mean ASAP. A nigga like Squeeze wants to screw with my family? Then it’s on. Like my dad said, the streets ain’t gon’ give you nothing for free, so it’s up to you to take from the streets. And I meant to do just that by taking from grimy niggas like Squeeze who don’t mean these streets any good. From this day forward, Squeeze and his whole squad are targets for me. The money they work hard at getting by selling crack over in these projects is going to be my proceeds really soon. Because when I put the steel to their heads, they better drop it off. If they don’t, they better be ready to die. I have never killed anyone before, but this was personal.
“Yo, Mya, get the phone,” Li’l Bo yelled from outside my door.
“Who is this?” I said into the phone with a hint of attitude.
“What you mean who is this?” Rochelle questioned on the other end of the phone. “Why didn’t you call me when you got back from the prison? How was the trip? I know how you hate those long rides.”
“You know I do, but it was cool. My dad is doing really good, but he wanted to see Li’l Bo and Monica. I’ma take them down soon though. Other than that, the trip was cool. We got to talk about a lot of important stuff, you know.”
“That’s what’s up. I’m glad you got to see him. Girl, let me tell you about the party last night.” From the sound of her voice I could practically see the excitement on Rochelle’s face over the phone.
“I’m all ears,” I said. I took a seat on one of our brutally battered living-room couches.
“Mya, everybody was there. It was wall-to-wall packed. The DJ was on fire. I don’t think I sat down the whole night. Girl, we were in VIP with the Height Squad. They got mad money, Mya. They were poppin’ bottles all night long. I’m talkin’ about that expensive shit.”
“Were you drinking?” I rudely cut in.
“Hell, yeah. I was fucked up. Matter of fact, I’m still buzzed.” Rochelle started laughing.
“All right, you remember the last time Wynita kicked your butt for drinking and throwing up all over her carpet?” I reminded her.
“I know. That’s why I stayed out until some of my buzz wore off. She didn’t notice a thing when she brought Tiny in my room this morning.”
“Well, did you meet any of those low-life niggas?” I asked sarcastically.
“Girl, please, I was havin’ too much fun to be thinkin’ about a nigga. I was not tryin’ to be nobody’s wifey. Those niggas ain’t ready for no ready-made family, so I was just enjoying the free liquor and music. But you already know niggas was tryin’ to holla,” Rochelle confirmed. “Especially this nigga called Li’l Lo. But, of course, I was giving that nigga a hard time. All niggas wanna do is one thing, and right now, I’m like, forget that. Oh snap, and wait a minute before I forget. Let me tell you about Charlene. This bitch pulls up in Pig’s black beamer with tint so dark that you couldn’t see through it if helicopter lights beamed on it.” Rochelle was talking so fast she didn’t even take a breath.
“For real?” I asked in shock.
“I’m not bullshittin’. Then they get to the club all in VIP slobbering each other down. They were actin’ like Mr. and Mrs. in that motherfucker for real. If Nina didn’t go I would’ve been on my own. Not that I would complain or anything, ’cause I was gettin’ krunk all night long. But I just had to tell you about that hot mess, ’cause I knew you would trip.” Rochelle continued to laugh.
“That’s some hot topic right there. I can’t believe she let that ugly nigga put a hand on her.” I laughed and twitched in disgust at the thought of Pig. This nigga is major ugly. Pig is as black as that burnt soot around your stove. He got a big head with eyes that look like they are about to pop out of his head with pink lips. The only reason he looks decent is because he can dress. The only reason he can dress is because of all at the dope he pushin’ in the hood. Charlene, on the other hand, looks like Trina. You know, Da Baddest Bitch. But I guess in some people’s case money does really talk. Not in mine though because a ho or gold digger I will never be.
“I was thinkin’ the same thing, Mya. When I saw them kissing I thought I would throw up all my liquor. It was on some beauty and the beast type stuff for real. They looked cool together though. I really think he likes her too. So what’s up with you today? You got some heads to do or something? I told you Wynita was going to church all day today,” Rochelle reminded me.
“Nah, I ain’t got no heads today. But I’m going to come over later. We got some business we need to discuss. And I would rather not talk over the phone.”
“Aye, that’s cool. I’ll be here all day. I ain’t got shit to do today, so I’ll see you when you get here.”
“A’ight, see you in about an hour.” I hung up the phone, got out of bed, and started to get dressed. The first thing I needed to do is go and meet up with Rochelle. My plan is to inform her from now on we hittin’ the club hard because that’s where I need to be to get the drop on the Boone Squad. Them niggas can’t help but try to get with a bad bitch, and they’re always after me so this should be easy. I may be one of the youngest chicks in the club, but I’ll be one of the baddest. With a look just like my mother’s, I stood 5 feet 6
inches tall with almond-shaped eyes, thick, black, long eyelashes, and long, coal-black hair down the middle of my back. Guys are always after me like hound dogs. Especially the Boone Squad with their nasty ass, but the mind game is on. I will use my looks to pick them niggas to get the information I need to rob them of their own dough. I need Rochelle to provide me with the gear I’ll need to hit the club looking flawless until I fatten my pockets, which should be very soon. I have to be very careful because although Rochelle is my best friend, she can’t ever know what I’m doing. Nobody can know. It’s like they say, the only way you can keep a secret is if you are the only one who knows it. That’s how I intend to keep it. Don’t get me wrong, Rochelle is down with me and whatever I do, but this situation is about to get ugly, and I don’t want her or anybody else involved. This situation is on my hands. This shit is personal.
____________________________________________________________________
Later that day, I finally made my way over to Rochelle’s house. I had to beat the door down for about five minutes before it finally swung open. “Yo! What took you so long to answer? I been banging on this raggedy door for about twenty minutes,” I exaggerated and pushed my way past Rochelle into the apartment.
“My bad. I decided to go ahead and take my shower while Tiny was still asleep. I didn’t hear your knock until I turned off the shower. I’m surprised you didn’t wake Tiny with all that damn banging you were doing. Anyway, what’s up?” Rochelle sat down and grabbed a pack of Newports off the coffee table. It’s a habit I’ve been trying to encourage her to break, because the smell stinks so bad. Her habit only got worse the more I complained so I decided to leave well enough alone.
“What do you mean what’s up?” I asked, stalling for no apparent reason.
“Look, Mya, stop bullshittin’. We’ve been best friends since forever. I know when something is bothering you. So spit it out already.”
All of sudden tears just started rolling down my face. The thought of my mother being beaten by a trifling lowlife like Squeeze was just more than I could stomach. The thought of it makes me want to get a gat and put a bullet in his head, but I know something that will hurt that nigga more than that. That so-called empire he’s running means more to him than his life. Yeah, his money being taken, that will hit that nigga where he lives.
Wiping the tears away from my face I told Rochelle about my mom’s beating without giving her the details of who was to blame. “You know yesterday I went down to visit my dad. When I got back to the house my mom had been beaten. I’m talkin’ about she is fucked up, Rochelle.”
“What? What the hell happened? Who did it?” Rochelle screamed as she put her cigarette out in a green astray shaped like a frog, all while firing questions at me.
“I don’t know.” I lied but for a good reason. “And according to her, she don’t know who did it either. She said she was jumped from the back. She wasn’t raped or anything. They just beat her up and took the money that she was holdin’; that’s about all I know. But, Rochelle, she looks bad. One of her eyes is swollen shut, her face black and blue.” Without warning the tears start progressing down my face again. Rochelle’s face was also wet.
“I can’t believe this happened to her. Probably some thirsty dope fiend. That is so messed up. How is Monica? I know she a mess right now,” Rochelle said as she got up off the couch and grabbed some Kleenex off the coffee table close to the recliner in the far right corner.
“She cool now, right at home up under Mom. At least until Mom gets up and gets back into those streets again. I am just so sick of this shit, but I don’t want to talk about this no more. It’s just bringing down my good news,” I said, then put on a fake smile, because at this point, I was about to tell my best friend a lie. As much as I hated do this, it’s for her own good that she doesn’t know my true intentions.
“Good news? What good news?” Rochelle asked looking directly at me.
“Well, I didn’t tell you everything over the phone that my dad and I discussed at our meeting.” I took a deep breath because this will be the first serious lie I ever told my best friend. This will be the first lie of many I will have to tell to keep her in the dark and to keep the first lie in place. “Remember when you used to ask me did my dad leave us any money if something like him getting killed or going to prison ever happened? Well, the answer to that question has always been no, but yesterday, I found out different.” I braced myself because this lying just doesn’t seem to be coming easy for me. My mouth seemed to get drier with every word that came out of it.
“Apparently my dad had this friend named Big John. Big John had been locked up since recently, and he owed my dad some money for a big delivery job they did together. He promised my dad that when he got out he would pay him. Except now my dad is locked down. So, of course, my dad never expected to hear anything from him.” Rochelle was staring at me so hard it was making me nervous. I almost feel like she can sense I’m lying, but I continue on because it’s too late to turn back.
“Well, about a week ago, my dad said he received a visit from Big John. Dad said he thought he was coming to tell him why he couldn’t pay him his money, but the visit turned out to be the exact opposite. Big John said he would have his money in like three weeks and wanted to know what he wanted him to do with it. He knew dad had been married, but, of course, he didn’t know Ma was a crackhead now.” I stopped talking and kind of laughed a little under my breath. It seemed fucked up to be calling my own mother a crackhead. It is what it is, so I brushed past that and kept the lie moving.
“Dad said he told him he knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. And that was to give the money to me. He told him he would get word to him on how to get the money to me. Long story short, I showed up Saturday out of the blue to see him. So I guess it was fate or some shit,” I said, glad to have it out just like I practiced at home in my bedroom mirror. Of course, Rochelle had to start asking questions.
“Oh my God!” She was excited. “So how much is it?”
“How much is what?” I asked, caught off guard.
“The money, how much is it?” Rochelle quickly repeated.
“It’s a lot, enough for me to get an apartment and live for a while, a few years maybe.”
“Dang, that has to be a lot of money then. I am so happy for you, Mya.”
“Dad wants me to get a safe deposit box at the bank because he don’t want anyone asking where that money came from. Big John should be contacting me this week. Dad is going to be contacting him Monday to make sure everything is straight. So now all I have to do is wait,” I lied.
“What about your mom? If she knows you got that money, Mya, she gon’ be tryin’ to get some. She gon’ be pissed when she finds out he givin’ it to you instead of her.” Rochelle looked concerned.
“Who cares about her being pissed? She knows he ain’t gon’ give no money to her to smoke up. What does she think, he’s crazy or something? That money is for me to take care of Monica and Li’l Bo,” I confirmed. “Dad made that shit clear. Until Mom gets clean, she can’t even stay with me when I get a crib.”
“Oh hell, yeah.” Rochelle had a big smile on her face. The thought of me getting my own crib put her on the edge of her seat. “Where you plan to get a place? I know you not moving into these damn projects.” Rochelle put a disgusted scowl on her face.
“Ugh, no. I’m getting up outta here, but I can’t do anything until I turn eighteen. Ain’t nobody gon’ rent to me if I’m underage. So in a few weeks I’ll hit the rent ads. Another thing, from now on we are going to be hittin’ the club. It’s time I start to have a good time. All this stress with my mom is turning me into a seventeen-year-‘old’-ass woman.” I stressed the last part.
“Wait a minute. You want to go out to the club?” Rochelle asked. She put a stunned look on her face. “Because I just want to make sure I heard you right.”
“That’s what I said.” I smiled for the first time since I started talking. “As of m
atter of fact, let’s celebrate my good news this weekend coming up.”
“That’s what up. Now that’s the Mya I been looking for,” Rochelle replied.
“Oh, just one thing. I need something to wear. You know normally I would not wear your clothes, but this one time I will make an exception. Because when I do hit the club I want to be laced.”
“Dang, you must desperate because you know how you trip about wearing other people’s clothes. But don’t worry, I got you.” Rochelle jumped off the couch and grabbed me by the hand. We headed to her room to raid her closet for name-brand clothes. Her daddy was a well-known dope pusher who was gunned down like six years prior. Although her mother, Ms. Wynita, was a new self-proclaimed Christian who wouldn’t spend any of the money he left, she did give Rochelle an allowance out of it every so often. Most of the money was for Rochelle to go to college, but she still hadn’t gone yet so Rochelle was just getting geared.
Her Sweetest Revenge (Delphine Publications Presents) Page 3