Rushing home, I tried to beat an amber-colored light, but thought against it. “Shit!” I said as I applied my brakes, hoping no policemen were around. The last thing I needed was to get stopped by the police over some stupid shit. I glanced over and saw the gift resting on my leather passenger seat. It was like déjà vu. The wrapping looked exactly like what had been on my engagement ring from Chino.
I was so surprised and happy to get engaged. It was not really a proposal because we always claimed each other as husband and wife. It was more like the final touches to our relationship. He’d kept saying, “I don’t have the money to get a ring yet.”
Not that I ever pressed him, and we rarely discussed it. The only time we ever talked about it was when I was visiting him at Orient prison on his first drug dealing bid—on the visiting forms, I had to check the box marked FRIEND all the time. He said, “Pooh, that’s crazy. You coming up in here as my friend. You’re my wife, and I’m sorry I put you through all this, but I realize you really love me, and as soon as I get out, we’re getting married. I promise.”
“Chino, whatever you want is fine with me. Besides, we have to really budget our money. This trip to the pen almost made us fold.”
“Ain’t no folding with us,” he told me assuringly. “We got love on our side, so it will be all right.”
And somehow it always was. We didn’t lose anything. We thought of selling the salon but decided against it. Even though times had gotten really rough, I hired more staff, and customers kept pouring in. The salon really began to boom and do very well. We lived by faith, not by sight. Just keep on going and striving.
Honk honk! The loud honking of an irritated motorist snapped me out of my daydreaming.
When I arrived home, I found T and the baby playing and having fun. He decided to give him a bath for me, which I really appreciated. T was all right. It’s just that the streets will change people. I knew they had changed me a lot, and the influences I’d been around had really done some lasting things to me and affected my life in profound ways.
“Carmen, I love this wrapping paper,” T said as he fondled and admired the gift.
“Thank you. Your girl will love it.”
“What is it?” He began to toss it up in the air.
“I won’t tell you. You both will be surprised. Here, I’ll finish up with the baby while you get ready for your date.”
I knelt down next to the tub and began to lift the bubbles from the tub with my hands and blow them into my son’s face. At first, he cringed and waved me away, but when one of the bubbles popped on his cheek, he began to smile. T-Love looked through his jeans pocket. There he go with another jean outfit. This one was gray, black and white, with matching Timbs.
“I have some last-minute errands I need to run, or could you help me out like you did last time?” he asked. “I need you to get some money for me from Delano and Paul-P. You remember P?”
“Yeah, I remember him from when Erik was up here last summer.”
“Well, if you could do that, then I could go out.”
“I can do it first thing in the morning because I’m in for the evening. I’ll page the fellas and arrange something with them.”
“Cool,” T said. Truth was, T was a lazy muthafucka. Anything goes as long as he doesn’t have to do it. “Also, I’m throwing Gabrielle a birthday party.”
“Who?” he asked, like he had never heard of her.
“Your favorite, Gabrielle.”
“The one with the big titties?” He began to lick his lips.
“Yeah, that’s her. She’ll be nineteen, and I want you to invite some of your fellas. My service could use the business, and we could mix it up a little. Sort of a toast to our new business venture. Besides, I want it to be nice for her. I’m gonna invite Delano, Paul and his boys, if that’s cool. I’m renting the party house at this one spot and making it like a pool party and cookout with music. We just gonna get fly. Bring your wife down here so she won’t get too mad about things. I need you to go back to New York and arrange things. You need to keep everyone happy so we can get down.”
“I will, but if I start bringing kilos down here like that, I gotta do something different. I can’t bring them in the trunk. It’s too hot. But old dude that we see has these vans with hidden compartments and shit.”
“Maybe we can hook up with him and start using his vans. If you start moving things and let me spit it at him, then he will. Yo, T, bring him to Columbus. Bring him to the party this weekend, and I’ll talk to him. Bring Erik, and I’ll talk to him, too. Or better yet, if you hook it up, I can go to New York for the day on Wednesday and talk to whomever.” With every word, my fingers were crossed.
“I don’t know.” T spoke cautiously. “Erik said you were very manipulative and not to really mess with you. He ain’t stupid, he knows Chino has schooled you.”
“T, life has schooled me. Chino taught me a lot, but not too much about the streets. He taught me about people, and I’m not trying to take anything from you. I’m just trying to make some money. You got the plug, so let that be the reason we get paid.”
“Is China gonna be at the party?” He moved his hands down to his pants and started rubbing his dick right in front of me. Nasty bastard. I ignored him and started polishing my toenails with my favorite cotton candy pink polish thinking, Horny-ass nigga. The service just well may be easier than slangin’ them thangs.
“You know she would never miss it,” I said.
“Bet! Carmen, this shit just might work.”
“T, I know it can. If only you just believe and have some faith in yourself and in what we’re doing. Look how far faith has brought me.”
“You’ve got a point, because we’ve seen you have everything, then go straight to nothing. Now you on the come-up again.”
“That’s right, T. Maya said it best: ‘Like dust, I’ll rise.’ It always gets greater later.” My son is the reason why I’ve got to get mines and move out. Ain’t no man gonna do it for me, and ain’t no man gonna ever again take anything back from me that he gave. Been there, done that shit, and I ain’t even interested no more. Now, go on and get changed. I’ll take care of Delano and Paul tomorrow. I’ll spit some words at them, then give you a total to take back to New York. T, have a nice night.”
“C, I sure will. Peace.”
Nine
I woke up early Monday morning with my mission on my mind. I’d been listening to rap music more and more since I started hustling. It motivated me, because it was talking about things close to home—the struggle, the streets, death and loss. Those who couldn’t relate knew nothing of the streets. It was good to know hustlers weren’t alone. Unlike how the media portrayed rap music, it didn’t hype us to kill. What it did do was motivate us to keep on keepin’ on. The shit was real when Tupac said, “keep ya head up” and “trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents.” When I heard the Above the Rim soundtrack, it seemed to play out my life. Rap was the grim reality, no matter how you looked at it.
Now, there was the new-school rap and the old-school rap. Some of those rappers were kickin’ straight knowledge, and some was straight bullshit. Like Ice Cube, he was my boy. His rap was almost a form of gospel because it made you feel stuff. That shit made me want to jump and say, “Ah yeah, ah yeah. Say that shit, say that shit!”
A couple of years before, I was an all jazz kinda girl, and Chino was the one into the rap scene. We were on different pages. I couldn’t understand why on our cross-country road trips he needed rap in the CD player and nothing else. But now I understood. If only I could tell him. Every day in the streets brought me to a closer understanding of his work and all he went through to provide for himself. It’s hard in the streets and this is a real job. People in the streets ain’t people with no brains and no skills. On the contrary, you got coaches, organizers, sponsors and CEOs, just like in corporate America. Only problem is, corporate America ain’t trying to give a brotha or sista a chance to really express themselves. Espe
cially with no background or legit papers.
When Chino got out the clinker, or “the belly of the beast” as some Muslims call it, he got hired at MCL Cafeteria as the conditions of his parole. The bosses gave his ass a hard time, although he had more knowledge of being self-employed than the ones who were in charge. The work was demeaning to say the least, but Chino never lost focus and didn’t allow them to bring him down. Unfortunately, African Americans put up with more bullshit on the job than any other race because nobody thinks they’re capable of doing anything else. I know Chino felt belittled but that made me strive for more. The American Dream. Yeah, I want it. Maybe that’s my problem, but I’ll figure it out one day.
Paul sounded upset when I woke him, but he still spoke to me. Most of T’s people were lazy and spoiled just like his fat ass, but Paul was far from that. He had it in him to do some thangs and I could spot a winner when I saw one, so I was gonna focus on him. Delano had it in him, too. I felt encouraged to work with them to inspire them to reach some goals, thus reaching my own.
P was to meet me at the bagel shop near his house, even though it was out of my way and he owed T money. It was all good because one day I would have it my way, and that day was coming. I ordered iced teas for us as I waited.
He finally arrived, and he was still fine. Silky chocolate skin with wavy hair and the voice of a Temptation. He had a luscious smile, perfect build and he always wore a platinum, diamond-filled cross on his chest. His trendy framed sunglasses complemented him. He had a wife, and I think three or four kids. Too much baggage for me, but it wasn’t even that type of party. Besides, I didn’t want no man, but it didn’t hurt to look. I hoped he would smile a lot because he had a nice smile. I liked P so much because he had a gentleness about him and I really trusted him. There were not many people in the streets that I trusted.
“C, what’s up?” He pulled out the chair, glided into the seat and scooted in close to me. I moved in closer for privacy.
“You, sometimes me. How have you been?” I asked.
“Just chillin’, just chillin’,” he remarked, slowly rubbing his chin.
“We need to talk about business. There’s gonna be some changes. You bring the money?”
“Yeah, but I normally don’t deal with anyone else, especially women. No offense.”
“I know,” I said softly. My mind wandered to one of the many memories that I’d experienced as a female in the life. Men were so threatened when they saw a woman getting money ’cause that same money was what they used as a stronghold with women. When a woman has her own money, a weak man finds it challenging to gain a hold in her life. If she ain’t dependent financially, he feels weakened.
The previous Friday night had been the ideal summer night, so I rolled up to St. Adalbert Parish to watch the fellas play ball. A couple niggas started hatin’ on me because they knew I was out there tryin’ to be that girl, I was fine and I wasn’t falling for that weak holla they was throwing.
This one known baller walked over to my Jeep and asked me to step out and talk. I knew he was hatin’, but I stood outside the Jeep to holla because I was in a position where I had to mix it up to gain my own rep—a rep of handling my business and myself in any situation. Not by murder or sexin’, but by finessing.
So I was talking to dude, just kicking game, when I noticed that we had drawn a light audience as he tried to play me.
“What you driving, baby girl? Is this a new ride or a used one?”
I kept my cool and responded by saying, “Baby, it’s transportation for now, but it is mine and I didn’t flat back and fake it to get it, you know?”
Everyone knew he had purchased a high-price piece of pussy with his gold-diggin’ dress-n-rest whore he was sporting. She was pretty all right, pretty damn expensive.
“You out here kickin’ it with the men, why you ain’t ever with no man? Can you keep one or is another kitty your preference?” He flicked his tongue.
I calmly replied, “Love, I don’t do women, and a broke-ass man ain’t in my vocabulary, so I’m out here paying myself.”
Since I was holding my own, all he could do was some foul shit. He stepped to the side of my Jeep, unzipped his pants, pulled out his dick and started to pee, saying shit like, “Can you do this? Can you write your name with your dick?”
He entertained the crowd with his stream control and aimed the urine toward the edge of my shoe, with one drop landing on the tip of my sandal. He knew this was provocation for a fight, or better yet, a way to welcome death. But because I was female, he just wanted to offend me and teach me a lesson about coming to the court alone.
I stepped back, and he missed his target.
“Your turn,” he said, zipping up his pants. I peered at him with malice. He looked at the tip of my sandal. “Oh, let me get that.” He reached into his back pocket, acting like he was going to wipe my sandal with the T-shirt he had in his back pocket. I waved him away, saying calmly, “Not a problem, boo.”
I bent down and took off my sandals, exposing perfectly pedicured feet that had all eyes on my toe rings. I walked over to the garbage can, tossed the barely worn sandals inside, then walked over to my Jeep, reached in the backseat and replaced the sandals with a pair of stiletto-heeled pumps. I always kept a change of clothes in my car. It’s called being prepared.
I winked at the guy who did the piss performance and told him, “It’s okay, baby. I only wear my shoes one time anyway.” I looked over at the fellas, who now were smiling and giving me the nod.
“Stay up, ma,” I heard one of them say, while another exclaimed, “I should have put some money on that shit!”
I hopped into my Jeep, applied some lipstick, picked up my cell phone, holding it with one shoulder, turned up my bumpin’ sounds and drove off. The next time I went to the court, they gave me my props, and I just sat in my Jeep waiting for the right time to make my move and let them know that I was that girl and I had the weight.
“I heard that you were into this escorting service,” Paul continued, interrupting my thoughts. “Nothing else?” He held a look of seriousness on his face while he listened for my reply.
“Well, it’s like this. I know a lot of people and I mix it up. I’ll be the one you’ll most likely be dealing with in the future, so I need to know what’s up, what you’re trying to do and what you’re looking for in a supplier,” I said sternly.
He looked spooked, but I’d found on the streets that the majority of people didn’t have an agenda. Prime example: G. All he wanted was the money so he could have the honeys. His motivation went no further.
He was also turning into a big gossip. If he told me one more tale of his threesome fuckfests with China and Ashley, I was going to scream. Every time we met, no matter how many times I checked his ass, he wanted to broadcast how China sucked his dick while Ashley ate China’s pussy. Or how Ashley sucked his dick while he watched China eat Ashley’s pussy. Or how he watched China and Ashley eat each other’s pussies for a hit of dope. Now, why would he brag to another woman, especially about fuckin’ a sex pro like China with no protection, no condoms, no nothing. One day G would cost me. I felt this, and I needed to do something about it. He had female qualities, and females will fuck you every time.
“C, I ain’t trying to be no drug dealer all my life. I’m in college and studying business. I hustle to support my family and stay in school, but I don’t really make a lot of money. I basically turn others on because of my relationship with Erik. Some of my cousins and people I grew up with mostly benefit from what I get from T.”
“No, it’s not about me. We do this together.” I knew I liked him. He understands the group and the family concept of things.
“I’m making about four grand on each of them thangs I get. If you could get Erik to lower the ticket, I could do more.”
“How much you paying now?” I asked this praying he would provide some answers.
“I’m paying twenty-five for a kilo, and I let it off for twenty-nine.
”
“That’s it?” I asked, trying to hide my disbelief.
“Yeah, because I’m not breaking it down like I used to.”
“How are you driving a Land Cruiser making four grand with three children and a wife?” I smiled, but was curious as to how he was doing this, because I wanted to work my hand the best way I could. Perhaps I could learn something from P.
“Carmen, you funny as hell. That’s my business. I’m trying to stick and move, and to be honest, it just ain’t worth it.”
“Well, what is worth it? What if the ticket was lower? Could you move more then?”
“Well, I do about five a week from various sources. So if I could get a new price of, say, twenty-four or even twenty-four five, I could do a lil’ more.” Wait, so he’s making $4,000 five times a week. So $20,000 a week. How is that not enough to support a family? Am I missing something?
“Have you ever talked to T or Erik about this?” I quizzed. “I tried to talk to T, but he never has the time to really discuss it, and you already know that Erik ain’t trying to come up off of nothing. In fairness, the price is not that bad because it’s delivered to you in Columbus—”
He cut me off, waving his hand to silence me and began explaining his view. “Look, you don’t have to go into all that. I know you got some debate skills. T has mentioned you a lot. He really respects you. I’m not complaining or trying to get hemmed up in a debate with you. I could make more. I’m just keeping it real.”
I wanted to keep his interest, so I calmly responded, “P, I ain’t here to work you over or debate your position. I really like your style, and I think we could do better. Why risk yourself for four grand when you could risk yourself for double that? What if I give you a ticket of twenty-three grand for less than ten of them thangs and twenty-two five for ten to fifteen of ’em?”
Let That Be the Reason Page 10