“Well, well, well, if it ain’t Miss Thang,” Kelly’s next-door neighbor, Dora, hollered. She had walked up on Kelly before she could lock her apartment door, yelling as if she was putting out an all-points bulletin.
Dora was a middle-aged woman in her fifties who still dressed like a teenager. Her philosophy was you stay young by looking young. Dora was also a high-yellow female and she saw a lot of her old self in Kelly, before she became a drug addict. She used to be beautiful like Kelly, and she used to rip and run the streets with all of the hustlers that was making noise back in the day, but after years of running the streets, along with the overuse of drugs and alcohol, now she just looked used and abused. She still had somewhat of a shape, but she had some extra bulges in a few places she didn’t desire to. Dora still had some pretty-ass hair though; black, short, and straight. She actually had the look of a mulatto.
Kelly locked her apartment door, turned around, and rolled her eyes.
“I knew bitches was gon’ be hatin today, but, damn!”
“You better watch who you callin’ a bitch, okay? I ain’t one of ya’ lil’ friends, I’m old enough to be yo’ mama. You need to respect me,” Dora told her in a chastising manner.
“Bitch, please, you could never be my mama, and you need to give respect to get respect,” Kelly said sternly, letting Dora know that she would be as many bitches as she wanted her to be.
With Dora’s battered dark-gray eyes nearly shut, she spoke angrily. “Don’t get too big for your britches, Kelly. Don’t let Buddah swell your little big head into thinking you can’t be taken down.”
“Taken down? Who gon’ take me down, boo? It ain’t gonna be ya’ cokehead ass,” Kelly said, verbally blasting her. Kelly was feeling a mix of surprise and anger. She didn’t know where Dora was coming from, but she did know that when someone came at her like that, it was to be taken as a threat.
“You ain’t no different from the rest of them li’l bitches he get to work for him. He fuck ’em, give ’em a lil’ money, take ’em shoppin’, buy ‘em a lil’ bit of shit, when he get tired of the pussy, he get rid of ’em. And he gon’ get rid of you too.”
“You sound like a bitch who been hurt. What you fuckin’ Buddah, Dora?”
“Yeah, I was fuckin’ him, until yo li’l skank ass came into the picture. Now all I hear about is I ain’t got time to get wit’ you. I gotta check on Kelly, Kelly this, and Kells that.”
“Eew, wit’ ya’ old ass, now that’s nasty,” Kelly said with a comical-like scowl.
“What, you think this ol’ pussy don’t work no more? Shit, she still workin’,” Dora told her, with the smell of liquor on her breath as she rolled her hips around.
“Dora, man, go head wit’ all that nonsense. You high as a muthafucka an’ you talkin’ shit, and in a minute, I ain’t gon’ be so nice about it,” Kelly said, warning her.
“Like I said, you ain’t no different from the rest of them young-ass ho bitches; you just a lil’ older, but you ain’t gon’ last,” Dora told her.
“The difference between me and them other bitches is I’m Kelly Morgan and they’re not. I don’t have to fuck Buddah to keep my position. Do me a favor, Dora, mind your business ’cause you don’t know nothin’ about mine. Take your drunk ass on in ya’ house and take a fuckin’ nap.” Kelly walked away from Dora and headed toward the elevators. She couldn’t help but to trip off of the thought of Buddah and Dora fucking. She had noticed him coming out of her apartment quite a few times, but Dora was a cokehead and he sold coke, hard and soft, so she thought it was about the business. Kelly had also given Buddah more credit than to want to slide his dick up into someone as unsanitary as Dora.
Kelly Morgan stepped out of the elevator, leaving all of the bullshit that had transpired between her and Dora behind. She was about to hit the block and she had to be on point. Kelly felt like she was the shit when she was on her turf. She felt safe and secure ’cause niggas knew damn well not to fuck with her. Everybody knew who she was and if they didn’t know her, they had heard about her. Niggas on the block also knew her brother, Kevin, or “Crazy-ass Kev,” the nickname by which he was better known. He had a major reputation in Colonial Heights.
Before she stepped outside of her building, Kelly said, “What’s up” and gave dap to a few of the heads posted up in the lobby. They were all huddled together as if they were trying to seek refuge from the fall afternoon air. A few of her neighborhood associates were already outside kickin’ it, so she just slid right on in.
“Whas good wit’ you, Quisha?” Kelly asked Laquisha, one of her peeps standing in front of the building.
“Everything is everything,” Laquisha said, while snapping and popping on her bubble gum. She looked Kelly up and down and down and up to check out what she had put on for the day. She rolled her eyes when she saw that Kelly was rockin’ out in her skinny jeans. Laquisha had wanted to wear her skinny jeans, but they were hanging up in her bathroom still damp from her washing them. She had worn hers the day before and so far, she only had one pair.
Laquisha and Kelly were not that tight, but they were all right enough to say that they were cool. Kelly never let Laquisha get too close because Laquisha was the type of chick that you had to watch around your man. Not that Kelly had a steady one, but still, she didn’t play that shit. Laquisha was a hot tottie. She was hot in the ass. Deep, dark chocolate in color, Laquisha had extensions with honey-brown waist-length twists in her hair. She had slanted, dark brown eyes, thick lips, thick hips, and bowlegs that niggas loved to watch every time she walked. She was always high and horny most of the time. And she stayed fuckin’ somebody’s man. More than a few of the chicks in the hood had beef with Laquisha over giving her pussy up willingly to niggas that she knew for sure had chicks at home. Laquisha didn’t give a fuck, though. She was ready to go round for round with them at any time. She didn’t feel the women were correct in beefing with her, she felt they should be beefing with their men. Other than her being a trifling ho, Kelly fucked with Laquisha all day.
Everyone else who was standing in front of the building just nodded or waved. There was a different vibe in the air. Kelly could sense it without even talking to anyone. Niggas was standing around looking lost. She took a look around to get a feel of the day and what was in store. She scanned the rooftops of buildings with her keen eyesight, but she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Kelly then broke off from the stupefied pack that was in front of her building and checked all of the immediate corners to see if she saw any new faces. There were no new faces; just the same neighborhood crackheads and dope fiends.
Kelly called Buddah to give a report. “The coast looks to be crystal-clear for right now,” she said in a preoccupied manner. She was still looking around to see what was what.
“Good, that’s real good, Kells. Don’t sleep on these niggas, though, Kells. Keep doin’ what you do, and get back to me,” Buddah told her.
“No doubt, I got you, baby. I’ll be in touch,” Kelly told him, as she let the call go.
She was going to tell Buddah about her conversation with Dora, but decided not to. That shit wasn’t that important. She had matters that held much more weight. She had returned to her building and was standing in front with Laquisha and a few other known heads. Just as she was about to launch her private investigation on what was really good in the hood, a man approached who looked to be a dope fiend. Kelly looked him over real good. She had never seen his face around the way before. He wasn’t old at all. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. Kelly knew for certain he wasn’t anybody that she knew.
“Yo, anybody over here good?” the unknown man asked, as he slowly scratched the side of his face.
“Good? Nigga nah, ain’t nobody over here good on shit. You need to step off with that shit, B,” Kelly said.
The man immediately took notice of the redheaded, hotheaded female that stood in the way of him and his score. He knew her type. He had run into her kind too many times before; big
mouth, big ass, and too much sense. But damn, she’s fine, he thought. He had seen plenty of attractive females in his time, but she was nothing short of a delectable delight. Not allowing the beauty of her face or the harshness of her tone to deter him from his mission, he took a deep breath and tried his hand again.
“Look here, sweetheart, I ain’t no police. I need some shit real real bad, or I’m gonna end up real sick. Now they told me that diesel pumps over here strong, all day and all night, and I gotsta’ get me some of that . . .”
Kelly continued to look at the disheveled man real hard. He looked as if he had been to hell and back again. He held tightly onto his stomach and he was crouched over as if it would literally kill him to stand up straight. Sweat ran down his caramel-colored skin. He wore one of the old red and black lumberjack jackets that Biggie used to rap about, but Money was missing the hat to match. Kelly thought the man would make a great dope fiend, but her gut told her that he was definitely an undercover cop. Either way, it wasn’t a day for bullshit, so she kept to her story of him coming to the wrong place.
“Well, I guess you about to be real sick, homie, cause ain’t no diesel pumpin’ over here. Fuck what you heard,” Kelly said sarcastically. She turned her back on the man and returned to kickin’ it with her peeps that were in front of her building.
The man walked away, disappointed.
Well, what do you know, she said to herself. Buddah wasn’t being paranoid after all. That nigga is definitely a duck.
Kelly stepped away from the crowd and immediately called Buddah. She would have bet all of her money that an undercover cop had just left her sight. It was time to be extra careful. Kevin was already locked up for some shit behind a funky-ass cop. The last thing Kelly needed was for both her and brother to be incarcerated at the same time. One of them had to remain free in order to take care of the other.
“What the nigga look like?” Buddah asked. He knew he was right.
“He a young dude, I mean, for real the nigga look like our nigga, Chop, except his clothes was all fucked up and he looked like he was fucked up, but I could tell, Buddah, he wasn’t no fiend, for real,” Kelly said. Chop was one of Buddah’s workers.
“Thas wassup, that’s exactly what I got you for. Where dat nigga go?” Buddah asked.
“He got the fuck outta my face talkin’ that bullshit. I don’t think he’s stupid enough to come back; if anything, they gon’ send a different duck, you know how they do it,” she said, confidently.
“A’ight, thas what it do. Yo, go and hit Broadway. I got a few heads that I need you to check wit’ and collect from. Get up wit Chop and Spank, them niggas should have some paper for me, get that, take your cut and bring the rest to me. Keep doin’ what you do and get at me by four o’clock. I’m shuttin’ the shop down at four, whoever don’t have they shit is just shit out of fuckin’ luck, cause Buddah ain’t goin down for no mufucka,” he told her.
“Thas wassup, I feel you, I ain’t either,” Kelly replied.
She meant exactly what she said, too, she wasn’t going down either. Kelly knew the drug game wasn’t stable; she wasn’t planning on staying in it forever, but the money was too good and had pretty much spoiled her. But she was also aware of quite a few hood horror stories of kingpins who were supposed to be harder than hard being hemmed up, and before you knew it, their bitch asses were wearing skirts and blaming their lookout and even their mama for their drug stash. She wasn’t the one.
Chapter 2
Mission Possible
Kelly was glad that she had to go to Broadway to collect for Buddah. Undercover police were sure enough lurking, so she was more than ready to dip out of the hood for a few. All of this talk about going down and being taken down was starting to leave a bad taste in her mouth. She was freshly dressed and looking fly. She had until four o’clock to get up with Buddah to get him straight. It was only twelve in the afternoon. That was plenty of time to play. She was ready to get into some shit; she felt a little mischievous.
“Come on, chick, let’s get away from here for a while,” Kelly suggested.
“I’m down, you got a ride or we cabbin’ it?”
“I’m a’ take Buddah’s joint.”
“That nigga let you drive his whip?” Laquisha asked in disbelief. Laquisha had known Buddah for some shit of years and she knew that Buddah didn’t let any females drive his car ever since one of his ex-girls had the next nigga pushing his whip.
“Yeah, I know right, that shit tripped me out too, but yeah, last week he told me I could push it,” Kelly bragged.
“You’sa a lucky bitch,” Laquisha stated enviously.
Kelly smiled at Laquisha and laughed. She knew that Laquisha thought that she was fucking Buddah. Shit, the whole hood thought that she was fucking Buddah. She knew the real deal though, so it didn’t bother her one bit. The ladies stepped away from the crowd at the building and headed toward the Avenue.
“You got a babysitter?”
“Nah, but shit, Mokesha’s home; she can watch ’em.”
Mokesha was Laquisha’s twelve-year-old daughter. She might as well have been the remaining four children’s mother because Laquisha hardly gave a fuck. None of Laquisha’s children had the same father. Two of them didn’t even know who their daddies were because Laquisha herself had no idea. Mokesha was constantly left in the house to care for her younger brothers and sisters while their mother either went out to fuck her dudes, or sometimes she brought the dudes to her apartment. Laquisha’s children’s ears would be glued to the door as their mother got the shit fucked out of her on the regular. She was in no way being a role model for her children, especially her three girls. But Laquisha was only twenty-five years old. She had been raised that way, so she didn’t see anything wrong with the way her children were coming up.
Laquisha was more than willing to go. She had hung out with Kelly a bunch of times and she knew without a doubt that it was not going to be a dull afternoon. Kelly had all the niggas hollering at her, so Laquisha was banking on finding her some new dick for the day. She had already had a fat blunt before she had left her apartment and her pussy was twitching. Laquisha may not have had on her skinny jeans but the Apple Bottoms jeans that she had on hugged her shapely ass like a child gripping a teddy bear. With her bowlegs swaying, niggas was bound to respond.
“Where we goin’?” Laquisha asked. Not that she really cared; she just thought she would ask.
“I gotta go to Broadway to handle some business, but I ain’t in no rush to get there, if you know what I’m sayin’,” Kelly told her with a sly smirk on her face.
“Yeah, uh-huh, I know what you sayin’,” Laquisha said, with a smirk of her own.
“A, yo, you seen that nigga that came up to us in front of the building, right? Did he look like a fiend to you?” Kelly asked Laquisha. She knew what she thought, but she just wanted a second opinion.
“I mean, to me, he did, but shit they all look like they on some shit, that’s your bag. I don’t know . . .”
After hearing what Laquisha had to say, Kelly thought, yet again, about the fiend that appeared out of nowhere. Yeah, there was no doubt that he looked the part, but there was something about him. He wasn’t from around there, so if he was so sick, how did he get there? She didn’t see him drive off in a car. Kelly shook off the thought of her being wrong. She always trusted her gut and her gut told her that Money wasn’t a dope fiend; he was a duck.
“Yo, you know who got some decent puff?” Kelly asked her girl.
“Nah, it’s been real dry lately. Niggas hollering about it’s a drought,” Laquisha said.
“It ain’t never no muthafuckin’ drought; they be front’n n’ shit,” Kelly stated with an attitude.
“You right, you right,” Laquisha agreed.
“It’s all good, though. Shit, I still got a half ounce of purple cush, but I know this shit gon’ be finished with the quickness,” Kelly said as she rode through the city in Buddah’s navy-blue Acura 3.2. TL, pu
ffing on a blunt of that sweet-ass purple cush.
The ladies jetted down the avenue looking for some shit to get into. Besides fucking everybody’s man in the hood, Laquisha was the best booster Bronx had ever seen. She could put an entire rack of clothes under her coat and walk out of the store without a hint of detection. There were times Laquisha had gone down to Macy’s on Thirty-Fourth Street and come back with enough clothes to clothe the entire Colonial Heights and Polo Grounds put together.
“What you trying to get into, yo?” Kelly asked with a mouthful of smoke, as she inhaled the strong weed.
“I don’t really care, it’s whatever wit’ me,” Laquisha said. She had just finished taking a hit of her own and she too was feeling the rush of the purple cush. Shit, she felt like she could lift anything that she wanted to.
They rode along listening to Drake rap about how he wanted to marry Nikki Minaj. Laquisha felt her arm vibrating. Damn that’s some good-ass weed, I’m fucking really buzzin’ n’ shit, Laquisha thought, until she realized that it was Kelly’s cell phone on the vehicle’s console that her arm had been leaning on that was actually buzzing.
“Yo, Kells, your phone is buzzin’,” Laquisha told her loudly, over the even louder music.
“I can’t fuck with that shit right now. I don’t have my earpiece with me,” Kelly said.
“You want me to answer it?” Laquisha asked her.
“Nah, fuck it, just see who it is,” Kelly replied.
“It’s an eight-hundred number.” Laquisha told her.
“Oh shit, that might be Kevin,” Kelly said.
Kelly loved her younger brother to death. And she missed him very much. Kevin being locked up was not something that Kelly liked to talk about. Her brother was four years her junior, but he looked out for her and protected her at all costs when he was on the streets. And the day he was taken off of the streets, Kelly felt vulnerable in a way that she never thought she would. Kevin was another reason why Kelly hated cops. The cop that had arrested her brother had also testified against him. He was the reason Kevin was not out on the streets, but serving a five-year prison sentence for possession of crack cocaine, possession and use of a firearm, and assault of a police officer. Kelly wasn’t present for any of her brother’s trial; she was too wrapped up in herself at the time and for that she felt guilty beyond measure. According to Kevin, all cops were devils and needed to be eliminated. He felt they were an abomination in his world and whenever he spoke about the subject, he made his feelings known.
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