by Nikki Turner
“It's not like that, Lee, and you know it,” Tahj said. There wasn't too much she could say, though. She had been caught on tape like a fuckin’ talk-show guest. She knew she was slick and had used her tongue to hustle a lot of shit, but she didn't know if she could grab hold of her G-string and pull her ass up out of this one. But anything was worth a try. Perhaps she would surprise herself. ”I've done some fucked-up shit. I do know that much. But, baby, I love you, and you love me, too. You must, because if you been watching me like that, then why did you allow me to stay around this long? I know why. Because you love me and you know I love you, too, and I'd never intentionally do anything to hurt you.”
“You didn't think muthafuckas up in my house, probably in my bed, drinking and eating up my shit while they fuckin’ my woman, would hurt me? All of this while I'm out grindin', trying to keep shit tight, and you can't even keep your pussy tight for me. I should have left your ass on the curb where I found you. You ain't no better than your mama.”
Tahj immediately charged Lee, swinging on him, scratching and clawing until he was able to restrain her by the wrists.
“Fuck you!” Tahj yelled. “Fuck you! I'm nothing like her. Nothing like my mother.”
Lee just shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, you're right. You ain't like your mother.” He paused. “You're worse. And I don't know why I didn't put your ass out sooner. I guess I just wanted to give you a chance. I guess I was looking for a reason. But that's the reason right there, ‘cause you just like your sorry-ass mama.”
Tahj angrily tried to release her hands from Lee's grip, and when that wouldn't work she spit in his face. Again Lee laughed.
“Get out,” he said, releasing her arms. “Get the fuck out!” he shouted, his voice now a complete rage. “Zon, help Ms. Cortez with her bags, please.”
Just then a man came from out of the kitchen. He was dressed in a nice suit with a pair of gaiters, a hat with a feather on the side, and sunglasses. He looked familiar, but with the sunglasses on Tahj couldn't place him.
“It would be my pleasure,” the man said as he pushed up the brim of his hat and removed his sunglasses. Tahj's mouth dropped when she realized that it was Ray, the retard.
“Ray?” Tahj said with a confused look on her face. “Wha … what's going on?” she stammered.
Zon and Lee couldn't help but chuckle at the shocked expression on Tahj's face.
“Well, hello, there, Miss Lady,” Zon said, speaking as clear as ever. “Oh, and the name is Rayzon, but you can still call me Ray if you'd like. I'll take your bags to your car.” Zon winked at Tahj, put his sunglasses back on, and pulled his hat down as he proceeded to carry her luggage out to her car.
Tahj just stood there. She had been caught for sure, and there was no talking her way out of shit. She just looked up at Lee, shook her head, and smirked. Wasn't no use trippin'. What was done was done. The good thing about it, though, was that there was a lesson behind it all. Tahj learned that the next time, like Shannon Holmes's book said, she'd have to B-More Careful!
Getting thrown out by Lee hurt Tahj. She'd known that day would eventually come, but she had no idea it would be so soon. For some reason, she'd thought that it would be because of some ol’ dirty shit Lee had done to her. For the first time in her life, Tahj didn't feel good about the shit she had done. Never truly giving her and Lee an honest-to-God chance might have been one of her biggest mistakes ever. By her preparing for the worst, the worst came. Perhaps she should have prepared for the best. But it was too late to worry about it now. Her bed had been made. Hell, she didn't do so bad. She had a lot of nice shit, a car, and money in the bank.
With her Louis Vuitton luggage piled up in her car and her “the day will come” account, Tahj put the car in drive and slowly drove off. She didn't have any particular destination in mind, but she knew wherever she ended up, it would be on top.
FINAL INNING …
A WORD FROM WAHIDA CLARK
WHEN THE
DUST SETTLES
After my girl Nikki and the sistas on her team put it down in this book, are you still thinking about, dreaming about, and grooming yourselves for the game? Before you go putting yourself out there, know this: The game doesn't play fair, and the majority of you players end up losing. Losing to a busta-ass nigga who leaves you holding the dope, then swears on the Holy Bible in front of a judge that it was all yours. Losing to the stripper's fantasy: I'm hot. I'ma work this body just long enough to get on my feet, save for college, get me a car, blah, blah, blah. … Three to five years later you still gettin’ thigh burns from slidin’ down the pole. And what? You're no longer hot, and that new young bitch done stole your spot in the VIP room. Losing to snaggin’ that big balla shot caller or any dude with lonnng dough: He's gonna take care of you for the rest of your life. You chase, you chase, you chase, and chase. You go through one, then another and another, just to discover that you were chasing an illusion. Temporary happiness and satisfaction. Losing to gettin’ that fast money … fast! By any means necessary.
The bottom line is … do you! Who better than yourself can take care of you? Educate you? Better you? Do you and you'll find that everything you're seeking will come to you in abundance! I'm not trying to put any of my sisters down, because I know how it is. I'm doing a ten-year bid as we speak. Some of you get out of the game before the game gets you, but the majority of us don't.
The game sits back and smiles at the sistas who are locked down, the chicks whose bodies are no longer eye candy at the gentlemen's club. The game smiles and lusts after the sista who was determined to snag that balla. But when she looks up, the years have run by and she's still looking, all alone, with nothing to fall back on. The game drools over the sistas chasing that fast money. Running credit card, bank, and checkbook scams. Again, it's all an illusion.
I hope the reader appreciates the message in each of these stories and knows that the game is just that—a game. An illusion that is rarely won by the opponent.
Stay up and focused on reality!
Bis-Mi-Illah.
Author of Thugs and the Women Who Love Them
Every Thug Needs a Lady
Payback Is a Mutha
—Wahida Clark, Queen of Thug Love Fiction
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
LAKESA COX: First and foremost, I would like to thank God for ALL that he has done and will continue to do for me. Thanks to my hubby, Mike, for all the support and to my three kids who are the motivation behind all that I do. Thanks to my mom and also to my second mom, Patricia and Joan, respectively. Last but not least, to Ms. Nikki Turner, my homegirl who has graciously put her stamp on the world in this street lit game, I appreciate you and sincerely thank you for the opportunity! God bless!
CHUNICHI: AS always, I would like to thank God for blessing me with such a wonderful talent. To my fans, thanks for your support; without you there's no me! To my homegirl, my literary big sis, my agent, Nikki Turner, thanks for giving me so many opportunities to shine. To my parents and my family, you're my inspiration. To my husband, thanks for being my ultimate support. To my friends, keep the drama coming—it makes for great material. To the baby mothers holding it down, do your damn thang! This one's for y'all. And last but not least, thanks to the streets, you made this possible! The streets have given me wisdom that no Ivy League school or college textbook could have ever given. To anybody I forgot … blame Nikki Turner for giving me only one paragraph for my acknowledgments!
MEISHA HOLMES: I'd like to thank God for his countless blessings. Thank you, Nikki Turner, for reaching out to me so I could be a part of this hot project! Thanks to Nancy Flowers for her recommendation, my daughter, Kayla Lyric, for keeping me focused, and the rest of my family and friends for encouraging me to keep on writing. Final thanks go out to all the readers who purchased my novel Brooklyn Jewelry Exchange, I appreciate you spreading the word—and the prequel will be coming soon!
TYSHA: First and foremost, I give thanks to God for each blessing I rec
eive. I would like to thank my husband, Vincent, for all the love, support, protection, and encouragement he gives me every day. Mommy, thank you for believing in me and being the strong woman you are. To my sister Tracey and brother Jae-Jay, no big sister could love you more than I do. Y'all are in my heart. To the rest of my family, there are far too many to name. I love you all and thank you for supporting my dreams. I give a heartfelt thanks to both Nikki Turner and JOY. I could not have asked for better mentors in this business. Finally, I dedicate this work to my grandparents, John and Ruby Hill. Thanks to your love and guidance, I know for sure that I can do anything I choose in life.
JOY: I would like to acknowledge all of the many readers who have supported my JOY projects, both full-length novels and anthology contributions. What an amazing literary ride it has been. Although I have answered my calling to write stories of a different nature, I do hope you will continue to keep in touch by visiting me at www.joylynnjossel.com. Peace and blessings.
PLAYER STATS
MEISHA C. HOLMES puts it down in Street Chronicles 2, earning her crown as the “Countess of Street Lit.” But even before her appearance in SC2, Meisha proved she was worthy of her title with her stellar novel Brooklyn Jewelry Exchange.
CHUNICHI, reigning in Atlanta, Georgia, is the “Diva of Street Lit,” putting it down with the most divalicious tales from the infamous A Gangstds Girl and Married to the Game to her short story featured in Girls from Da Hood and her now blazing contribution to Street Chronicles 2.
JOY, also known as Joylynn M. Jossel, is a seasoned vet and known in the industry as the “Empress of All Trades,” mastering the different literary genres, from the contemporary drama-filled chick lit she projected in her debut novel, The Root of All Evil, to the steamy erotica she pumped out in An All Night Man, and the gritty street tale she penned in If I Ruled the World.
LAKESA COX has self-published two drama-filled tales titled After the Storm and Water in My Eyes. In the underground literary world, LaKesa has been crowned the “Countess of Urban Drama.” Ready to carry her title mainstream, she is currently seeking a book deal for her next novel.
TYSHA is a new author to the literary game. Early in 2002, a mysterious illness began attacking Tysha's body, forcing her to resign from her job and pick up an old habit of journal writing, which turned into a short story and then into a novel that will be coming to a bookstore soon!
Girls in the Game is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2007 by Nikki Turner
Street Chronicles copyright © 2006 by Nikki Turner
Introduction copyright © 2007 by Free
“Crowning Miss Baby Mama” copyright © 2007 by The People's Choice
“Power” copyright © 2007 by LaKesa Cox
“Bossy” copyright © 2007 by Tysha
“Game Face” copyright © 2007 by Meisha C. Holmes
“Beyatch!!!” copyright © 2007 by Joy
“When the Dust Settles” copyright © 2007 by Wahida Clark
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by One World Books,
an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of
Random House, Inc., New York.
ONE WORLD is a registered trademark and the One World colophon is a
trademark of Random House, Inc.
eISBN: 978-0-307-49568-6
www.oneworldbooks.net
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