by Lena Scott
“Ohh, so she’s ‘the Big Apple,’ huh. Cool,” he said, directing his excitement toward the little girl, who grinned proudly.
Unique liked Derrick a lot. She could only hope her kids liked him for real, because he seemed to want to like them. She figured as much by the way he kept bringing them up. Unique wanted a man like Derrick. She’d dreamed of one day meeting a man like him, good job, respectable. There were no red flags, none.
Mr. Sinclair
Dustin Sinclair pulled the ring from the box and eyed it over, admiring its perfection. Even at the time of purchase it had been an expensive one. Of course for him this purchase was nothing, considering what he could afford. But it was the sentiment behind the ring that meant everything to him. He had bought this ring for Javina Nation. He had wanted to marry her, rescue her from the life she had there in the hood. Rescue himself from the life he had with Meredith. But Javina had rejected him. She had basically laughed in his face. He used to love to hear her laughter, but that day it made him want to cry.
But the girl in the red dress with the name of a wild, sexy drink, her laughter was music to his ears. Her body was flawless and her eyes, dancing and alive. It was as if Javina had been reborn. Dustin refused to believe that this woman was one of Javina’s many children, and she was too old to be the one he suspected he’d fathered with her. But coincidences like this could happen, “No, only in a fairy tale,” he mumbled, eyeing the ring again.
“Not a prostitute.” He laughed. “Of course you are, Ms. Tanqueray . . . but that’s never bothered me before.”
He picked up the phone and called Omar. “I want the girl in the red dress again.”
“Shantel?” Omar asked.
“I don’t think so. I want the girl who ran.”
“Yeah. That’s Shantel. When you want her? I mean, she’s been visiting her family, and so I’d have to call her and all that.”
“So you don’t know where she is?”
“No, no. It’s just a matter of a phone call, sir, and I could have her ass back here lickety-split. My girls know I mean business when it’s time for business.”
Mr. Sinclair frowned at the thought of Omar touching Tanqueray in less than a loving way. “Never mind,” he said, thinking perhaps he’d find her himself. Yes, he’d just visit, hang out in the hood, watch the work being done on his house and, perhaps, she’d saunter by. “Yes, never mind, Omar,” he said, hanging up.
Then he called Cecil. “Cecil, get the day car ready and have the kitchen prepare me some snacks.”
“Snacks, sir?”
“Yes, I’m going to hang out in the hood and watch my house built.”
“Sir, that is, umm, unwise.”
“You think so?”
“Yes, sir. I really suggest I go with you. I’ll get the white limo ready, and we’ll just use that, if that’s okay.”
Mr. Sinclair sighed. He so wanted to just mingle with the element, get a feel for the real. “Oh all right.”
“Very good, sir,” Cecil said, sounding as if chuckling under his breath.
Sinclair
Sinclair woke up in Malcolm’s bed. He was asleep at the computer with his head resting on his folded arms. She felt crunchy and yucky and hot. The room was stuffy, and the sun was up. It was going to be a muggy day.
“Malcolm,” she called.
Malcolm’s head shot up, and his bloodshot eyes opened. He’d been out late, probably with that girl, Sinclair thought.
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Where is Finest? You think he wants to go out today?”
“No. I talked to him last night. There was a little trouble in the W.E., and so he’s laying low for a couple of days.”
“What kinda trouble?”
“Always some kinda trouble in the W.E. "You know that.”
“True. Just didn’t want some nigga blowing up my sister’s house.”
“Ha! Good thought . . . since trouble seems to be following you.”
Sinclair noticed the gun lying on the computer desk. Malcolm had apparently been playing with it.
“Malcolm, I don’t want you to become like Finest. I really don’t.”
Malcolm looked at her, his eyes cold. “It’s too late, Sinclair.”
“Did something happen? What happened? Why you saying that?”
Malcolm’s eyes reddened further. Sinclair realized then he had been crying.
She jumped up from the bed and wrapped her arms around him. “Malcolm, talk to me. Did you rob the bank last night? What happened?”
He looked at her, staying off the tear. He buckled his lips. “You are crazy. No. I didn’t rob a bank. I’d be gone if I did.” He laughed. “I rode with Finest. That’s all I can say about it. I rode with Finest. Sinclair, I never wanna do that again.”
Sinclair backed away from him, scared to ask.
Just then Malcolm’s mother burst into the room, and he slid the gun out of sight. “Oh shit, here we go again. Girl, I done told you that you ain’t gonna lay up here with my son and be making babies and shit. Get yo’ ass up outta here!”
“Yes, Mrs. Johnson. You right about that. We can’t be laid up in yo’ house. Malcolm, I’ll meet you later at our spot,” Sinclair teased, running past Mrs. Johnson as quickly as she could, and out the front door.
After clearing a couple of yards, Sinclair realized Mrs. Johnson wasn’t in pursuit. Malcolm had probably calmed her down. She burst into laughter.
As she closed in on the construction, she noticed the white limo sitting here and the white man looking comfy from the backseat. He was dressed as casual as a rich man can dress. But still he and his bougie black driver, who was also decked out in a sharp Sean John sweatsuit, opened in the front and exposing a wife-beater, looked totally out of place.
Sinclair watched the man pointing and watching the construction work being done on her mama’s house. “Wow! Unique been on her job,” Sinclair thought, accepting that Unique must have been behind the action being done here. “I thought she said she hadn’t gotten a hold of anybody. I wonder how much this is gonna cost us.”
About that time Malcolm caught up with her. He was still laughing at her actions back at the house. “Why you trying to give my mama a heart attack?”
Sinclair chuckled. “Because she’s all crazy, thinking you and me are, you know, always doing it up in your bed,” she said, her voice coming soft and almost sensual. She looked over at Malcolm and pondered the what-if.
Malcolm must’ve noticed too because he looked at her in a strange way before bursting into a smile. Either way, his worries seemed lightened, and his eyes brighter now, and so that was all that really mattered, not what his mother thought.
Today they stood for a long time not too far from the limo and watched the big trucks haul away her life.
Tanqueray
Damn! That money went fast, Tanqueray had to admit. She’d put most of it up her nose, but still. It had been two weeks since the heist. She felt like a downright thief, having raided Omar’s joint the way she had. She kept the clothes on the down until she was sure Omar hadn’t reported anything and then called up her buddy to unload them. Kashawna always liked her taste in clothes and bought a few pieces from her. Sure, the dress was worth a whole lot more than eighty bucks, but hell, eighty bucks was eighty bucks. Eighty bucks was gonna ease up her tension fo’ sho. She called Dub Dub right away and got hooked up. There was no way she was gonna keep letting that nigga Finest supply her good times. Nah, never that, because soon he would start claiming her and trying to own her. Like Omar.
She felt good to have at least given Unique and Sinclair a little bit of it though. And it was good too, because Unique needed the money. She had gotten some good eats and had been cooking up a storm. She seemed happy, even though that nigga Curtis had only come by once or twice. He musta knew how to lay the pipe, keeping her smiling for that many days in between.
Speaking of that, Tanqueray was horny, which was unusual for her. Normally she never reall
y missed men in between time spent with them, but she was burning for Finest. She’d hit all the regular spots but had yet to run into him. She was actually starting to get her feelings hurt. Until she found his number scribbled on a little piece of paper. She’d never used it, thinking it was fake, but today she’d actually called him. She’d never met anybody like him. He was so cool and mysterious, yet at the same time he seemed kinda needy.
She remembered meeting Omar. She was stripping. She didn’t want to dance on the stage anymore. She didn’t want to get naked in front of nasty men anymore. She had hoped that life with Omar was gonna take her away from all that. But it didn’t. All it got her was some clothes, jewelry, and humiliation, dancing naked in front of him.
“Nothing wrong with jewelry though,” she reasoned, looking at one of the few pieces she’d kept. She’d not gotten even most of the pieces she’d really wanted and was tempted to go back, but for sure she was gonna have to kill somebody the second time. “I can’t believe that bitch Shantel was up in my shit! I’ma have to hurt her ugly ass if I catch her on the street. She ain’t nothing but a freak anyway. She probably likes Omar sniffing her cunt and fingering her asshole. Nasty shit. Ugh!” Tanqueray cringed at the thought of all she’d subjected herself too by being with Omar.
Again she thought about Finest and his fine self. At least Finest can break it off straight. I can work with that. He could do it right. Deep and long, coming strong, and still ready to roll again if she hadn’t gotten hers. Oh and yes, she got hers. Every time. Even high that nigga could lay it. Umph! She tapped kitty just a little bit through her jeans, telling her to quiet down. She was ready to roll even at the thought of fucking Finest.
Standing on the corner and smoking her cigarette used to be a rarity for Tanqueray, but was slowly becoming routine for her. Today she stared at Omar’s condo. She had a good view from here. He hadn’t come out all day, but she had seen Shantel leave earlier that day in his car. What was that all about? Omar had never let Tanqueray drive his shit. What did that skinny bitch have that she didn’t have? What was she doing that Tanqueray wasn’t doing was more of the question.
Tanqueray dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stomped it with the heel of one of Unique’s Payless shoes. It was comfortable, but nothing compared to what Shantel was sporting on her feet. Tanqueray felt the green monster growing within the confines of her chest. “What the hell was she doing to deserve all that?” Even from a distance, Tanqueray could see Shantel was decked out from head to toe. “Pro’ly even got a pedicure.”
Tanqueray smacked her lips. Glancing at her watch, she wondered where Finest was. Too much longer, and she was gonna get busted. She’d told him that she and Omar had gotten back together. She didn’t want him getting all possessive, showing up at Unique’s place as if he owned her. And the happenstance meetings were just not working out. So she’d called him on his cell phone after finding the number the other night. He was more than ready to steal her away from her man. It sounded like it would be fun—hot. She knew it was always exciting for a man to think he was the man she was stepping out with.
“A woman can’t seem too available,” she mumbled, looking around and then glancing at her cell phone. She’d used her last bit of cash to buy some minutes that morning, but she didn’t want to use it to call a nigga, you know. Finally, she saw the SUV headed toward her. She reassessed her outfit. She’d managed to resist selling her diamond-studded sunglasses, at least for now. Her older Baby Phat jeans looked good on her. Her top was Wal-Mart. Shit, sometimes Wally be kickin’, she thought, bringing a smile to her face.
“Yeah, that’s what I like on my girl, a biggo grin,” Finest said, as soon as she slid into the comfortable passenger seat.
The car smelled like new money, fresh and clean. He must have been working. Finest and his ghetto delivery service, she thought, remembering when they met. Wow, time sure was flying by.
“I see you got out,” he said.
Tanqueray tried to hide the lie on her face, the one she almost didn’t remember. She nodded, instead of even trying to ad-lib. She opened the glove box in search of a little yay. Then she reached under the seat.
“What you looking for?”
“You ain’t got nothing to smoke?”
“Nah,” he answered.
“No? Shit!”
“That’s all you can think about. You ain’t even happy to see a nigga?”
“Finest, you know I’m happy,” she lied.
Upset about not finding any drugs, Tanqueray could care less about him right now. He was cute but starting to bore her. Too much talk, too many promises of a better life to come without much show of how it was to come about. She’d been hearing mess like that her whole life. Mr. Ralph always dreamed big like that. Always promising Mama life outside of the P. It never happened. And this nigga here wasn’t gonna make it happen either.
“Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d go eat.”
“Where?”
“Maybe in the city . . . somewhere nice.”
“You got money?”
His face frowned up, he sucked the air around his diamond-studded tooth. “No, I’ma make you pay. Of course, I got money. I don’t go nowhere without money. Woman, haven’t you figured that out by now?”
Tanqueray smiled. “Oh, so you rollin’?”
“Always.”
“Well, damn! Tell me something.” She rubbed his inner thigh. “Where you been? How come you ain’t be out and about hooking up with me?”
Finest noticed her fresh manicure. He pulled her hand to his lips. “I been busy. Making paper, keeping paper, it’s a full-time job.”
Tanqueray laughed. “Working for Dub?” She noticed a package of Trident lying in the open compartment under the stereo and quickly took a piece.
He smiled and puckered his lips for a kiss, which she quickly gave him. Just a peck.
“I do what I do for Dub ’cuz he’s my cousin.”
“No shit!” Tanqueray laughed.
“Yeah. I thought I told you that. I got family running deep in both hoods, the W.E. and the P.”
“That’s why you sporting a beater and your mouth jewelry, huh. You living a, ummm, dual identity, huh?” Tanqueray slid her hand into his crotch area again.
“Maybe, but soon, I’ma be up outta here. Maybe take some pretty woman wit’ me.” Finest again moved her hand to his lips, kissed her fingers and grinned at her.
Tanqueray’s urge for weed was slowly simmering into an urge for sex. Finest was blowing her mind. Just a few minutes ago she had sworn she would never fall for words, but Finest had a way with them that she was finding hard to resist.
“Yeah, I want to leave fo’ sho. I mean, I got some things I need to do here first, you know, some loose ends.”
“What you got loose? You lookin’ tight to me.” Finest tugged at her top. “This gotta go though, looking like some cheap shit. What is up with cho man? Ugh! Let me get you something pretty.”
“You wanna buy me something?”
“Yeah. Don’t know yo’ name, but yeah.” He chuckled.
“You know my name. I done told you a million times.”
“Suga . . . I know. Okay, Suga. I guess I’ll have to deal with that for now, but pretty soon you gonna have to get up off that fake shit. I’m yo’ boy.”
“I don’t have no boy. Not one who don’t be seeing me for two damn weeks. Shit!”
Finest reached over and tugged at her breast, causing her nipples to rise high and firm. He grinned. He was so curious about her. She didn’t really care to know that much about him. Of course, finding out he was Dub’s cousin was good to know.
“Shit! Damn, baby! You must be missin yo’ nigga. I’m sorry.” Finest pointed at her peaks.
Tanqueray smiled. “Yeah, you wish,” she joked.
“I do wish. I wish you missed me a lot. I wish you . . . I wish you didn’t have a nigga already.”
“Why?”
“�
�Cuz then I’d know your real name and maybe even take you with me when I leave here.”
“You don’t have somebody?”
He looked at her. “Yeah, I got somebody, but, you know, you like turn a nigga’s head around, you know.” He rolled his head on his neck as if he was spinning.
Tanqueray smiled shyly. She enjoyed flattery. “So if I didn’t have a man, you’d want me to be yo’ chick?”
“Shit, if you didn’t have a man, this would be yo’ permanent seat, okay,” he said, growing excited. “And we’d be on our way to like Vegas or Arizona right now. They got cheap-ass houses in Arizona right now. I’d get me a mansion up in that mug and . . .” He smiled at her. “But you got a man, right?”
She wanted to say, “Not as choochi-whipped as you,” but she didn’t. Talk was cheap, she knew that, but the thought of getting out of the hood sounded real good and was worth her time. She knew she would never leave her sisters for some little nigga who spit a good game. It would take more. She felt confident they wouldn’t leave her either. They would go together when they left. Of that, Tanqueray was sure. Her and Unique and Sinclair, they were gonna leave together. She just didn’t know how. Hell, she would be the first to admit she didn’t know how to do much, except survive.
But she knew she wasn’t gonna leave her family in the hood while she ran off for a temporary fling. Good talk and gifts were worth a little bit. Well, maybe worth a little more than a little bit, but not worth her sisters. She’d have to tell them tonight how much she loved them. Maybe Unique would cook up a little something good, if that nigga Curtis wasn’t up in her.
Gosh, Tanqueray didn’t like him. He was creepy fo’ sho. Just the other day he slid up in there and came all up in the girls’ room without knocking. Guess he didn’t know she was in there catching a beauty nap with Gina. Gina was so cute. Tanqueray smiled at the thought of her little niece. Anyway, nigga came up in there creeping, talking about he thought he left his shoes up in there. He didn’t leave shit up in there, and Unique needed to be told about that. Tanqueray had forgotten to tell her about it, but now that he had crossed her mind, she was gonna.