All listening dropped their jaws. Monica had to restrain herself and try to regain her composure after what she had just heard. She knew that Jenette was high and drunk, but how could she make up some bullshit like this? She braced herself.
Quinton took Monica’s limp hand and held it tightly. He could feel that she wasn’t squeezing his hand back, and she had a look of resentment written across her face. He gently touched her face with his other hand and began shedding light on the events of that senseless evening that could possibly cause the end of their relationship.
“Baby, let me start by telling you that I love you with all my heart and would never ever do anything intentionally to hurt you. It’s always gonna be me and you against the world,” he pleaded with sincerity. “I would never betray you or lie to you. Now it is true, I was there the night your brother got killed, but it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t even know that the young dude that night was related to you until the other night when Black Billy told me and Latrell. I’ve been sick about it ever since. You gotta believe me.”
Quinton shook his head and turned his lip up as he glared hatefully at Jenette. “Listen, Monica, I know that this is your old girl and all, and I don’t want to drag her name through the fucking mud, but this here bitch is straight-up foul!” Although everyone agreed with his opinion of Jenette, they still were awaiting his explanation. “The night that the shit jumped off, me and Latrell were on our way to meet up with Black Billy to take care of some business. When we pulled up on the block, she was out in front of the old building across the street, begging the fellas for some credit. The guys were shooting dice and weren’t paying her any attention. Anyway, me and Latrell got out of the car and got in the game. We were drinking and chillin’ about a good twenty minutes before your mother walked in the middle of the game completely naked and acting a fool.”
Quinton looked over at Monica’s adopted family, who were standing around astonished at what was taking place on a night that was supposed to be a joyous occasion. Mr. and Mrs. Cooper couldn’t help but start to fear for their daughter’s personal safety being involved with Latrell and Quinton, who they were led to believe by their daughters were computer engineers they’d met at school.
Quinton felt compassion for Monica having to hear all the malicious things that took place that night, but he had no choice but to try to clear his name. “Monica, believe me, ain’t nan one of us touch ya mom or lay a hand on her.” The crowd sighed with relief at that revelation. “We was all distracted by her antics and was straight clowning her ass, when out of nowhere this young guy jumped out with a big 9 mm and started talking shit,” Quinton proclaimed. “She set us up! Your old girl grabbed all the money off the ground, and dude made Black Billy and ’em hand over they chains. Him and her took off running down the dark block, and of course, some of the fellas pulled they shit out and started busting at they asses.”
Quinton watched as tears poured out of Monica’s eyes. “Your brother shot back and hit Jaron and Duke before he took a few bullets himself and hit the ground. Before we could rush down the block and get our loot back, your fucked-up-ass mother was bending over his body going through his pockets, and then she disappeared in the alley.” Everyone in the room was stunned. “That’s the last I’d seen of her scandalous ass until tonight. The fellas be having her work the spots sometimes to pay off the debt of all that money she and your brother robbed us of, but I don’t deal with her at all. Black Billy had mercy on her because he said he had known her ever since he was a little kid.”
Quinton was finished enlightening her with his version of the events. He prayed that Monica understood that he was helpless in the whole situation. Jenette had no shame whatsoever about what was just said and didn’t even try to deny it. Monica had yet to utter one single word. Every eye in the store was focused on her. She wanted to be the star of the grand opening, and she indeed was.
“Monica, please, baby, say something,” Quinton begged and was now holding both of her hands.
After a long stretch of silence, Monica finally spoke. “Quinton, are you telling me my little brother was out there in the streets, running with her?” She glanced at Jenette. “They were sticking people up together? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Before Quinton had a chance to answer, Miss Lila interrupted them. “Monica, you know I done known Jenette and y’all kids y’all’s whole life, and I ain’t never tried to do nothing but help. So I’d be wrong if I didn’t speak up right now and stop all this madness once and for all.”
Miss Lila took a long, hard look into Jenette’s cold face and shook her fist. “You should be locked up and the key thrown away. Monica, this boy here is telling the truth. I don’t know how many times your black-hearted mama and Dennis had folks banging on that apartment door, looking for them about something they stole.”
Miss Lila then turned to Monica. “I was looking out my bedroom window that night, and I seen them right underneath the streetlight, scheming as usual. I’m sorry, baby, but I saw Dennis robbing them boys.” Miss Lila was infuriated, and she cursed in the loudest tone that she could force out of her old body. “You a low-down, pathetic piece of nothing, Jenette Howard! Your terrible ass gonna burn in hell for getting your son turned out on drugs like you did! Mark my words! You gonna suffer the wrath of the Almighty Creator! It wasn’t bad enough that you always been a drug addict. You had to bring that poor boy down to your level, introducing him to that garbage!”
Quinton felt Monica snatch her hands out of his. He watched her head toward Jenette’s direction.
“Who you gonna believe, Monica, huh? I’m your mother. I had you,” Jenette screamed. “You and me is blood,” she slurred as she tried to hug her daughter, who snatched away. “You and me is just alike. I always liked you the best anyhow, not that snotty Kayla or your stupid brother who got himself killed. You know he always did run slow as fuck.” Jenette showed no remorse and was brazen with her words. She didn’t care who they harmed.
Monica was done feeling sorry for Jenette. Something in her mind finally clicked. The once-young Monica, forced to grow up too early, was suddenly no more in her own eyes. The art of making excuses for all the awful things her mother took them through as kids was corrupted.
“Yes, security, can you please step over here? I need assistance with an apparent problem. I need you to remove this worthless thing from my sight. Something extremely foul stinks in here,” Monica demanded as she motioned toward Jenette. “By the looks of things, it’s this piece of garbage. I don’t want to see jack shit but this trifling bitch’s back leaving through that doorway.”
Security swiftly obliged. They rushed back over toward Jenette. They strong-armed Monica’s mother, who was shocked herself for once that night.
“Monica, is your ass crazy, talking about me like that? Have you lost your damn mind?” Jenette screamed, bucking against the men’s forceful grip.
Monica gave her mother the serious side-eye as the amazed crowd looked on in disbelief. Refocusing on her hired security team, she firmly reinforced her wishes. “Will you guys just please hurry up and do as I requested? The smell in here is getting worse.”
“Bitch, you done let the nut you been sucking out that killer’s dick drive you crazy. I should kick your black ass for the way you talking to me right about now. Have you forgotten I’m your fucking mother?” Jenette evilly hissed once again, trying to snatch her arm away from the men.
Monica was not moved by her mother’s empty threats. The days of her being a child and intimidated were gone. With conviction she posted up, ready to do battle. As she stood directly in Jenette’s face, she smiled. Monica’s smile soon turned into laughter. “My mother? Did you say you’re my mother? I’m sorry, there must be some sort of mistake. I don’t know what you mean. My mother died a long, long, long time ago. She had me and my brother and sister living in turmoil constantly. She had all three of our minds fucked up so bad I thought we’d never be right in the head. But sadly my brother
is dead. He died out in them streets just like my mother. So now it’s just me and my little sister and our new family. And guess what, bitch. We good. So please, lady, don’t show up around here now shit is Gucci, talking about you somebody’s mother. Get the fuck on! Like I said, my mother is dead. Now, security, please do your job like I asked. Get this deranged trick outta my sight.”
“Monica, wait. I’m starving out there. Shit is fucked up for me. What do you want me to do? I need y’all to at least give a bitch a few dollars until I get back on my feet,” Jenette shouted out as she struggled to break free.
“I guess you could do just like me, Dennis, and Kayla had to do all these years. Get it how ya live,” Monica announced coldheartedly, turning her back. As they threw Jenette out the doors and onto the curb, she took a deep breath. Without reservation, she held her head high.
Proudly Monica marched back to Quinton’s side. Kissing him on the cheek, she rubbed his arm, reassuring him all was and would be well with them. Pouring herself another glass of champagne, Monica looked into the still-speechless crowd. With a huge smile plastered on her face, she spoke. “I’d like to propose a toast to Mrs. Cooper, Miss Lila, and Sandra, the best three mothers a girl could have in life. Blood doesn’t always make you family. Love does. Cheers!”
Even though Jenette’s slimeball performance left them all flabbergasted, her three surrogate mothers still felt proud and truly blessed to be a part of Monica’s life. This was a night that they would never forget. How could they?
As everyone in the shocked crowd hesitantly sipped from their glasses, Monica, Kayla, Quinton, and the Coopers all tried putting on happy faces. But they all shared the same thought, and that was the score they had to settle with Jenette’s snake ass. The next time each would lay eyes on her and their paths crossed, rest assured it would certainly mean nothing nice. Jenette had it coming one way or another someday. Bitches like her always got theirs in the long run.
The End
You Can’t Break Us
by
Treasure Hernandez
Chapter One
We were the last of a dying breed. Me and mines were on some old-school Bonnie and Clyde gangster-type shit. Young, crazy, money hungry, and bloodthirsty if need be. We did things most lames only dreamed about. But to us it was normal. We came from the hood, did dirt in the hood, and sadly, would probably die in the hood. That was our life. We lived it fast. Then just like that, in the blink of an eye, the team was no more. Damn, it seemed like it was only yesterday!
Moni
“Twerk, bitch! Work for these dollars!” Voodo loved the limelight. He tossed big bills into the air at the hole-in-the-wall strip club we were flossing hard in. Strippers flocked toward the three-person party that included me, him, and his right-hand man, Jerell. “Aye yo, ma, give my pretty girl over here a dance.” He winked at the light-skinned, dancer with the big booty, whom everyone in the club was checking heavy for. “There’s real moneymakers over here in this section.”
“Here he goes with this shit,” I mumbled under my breath so he couldn’t hear. Tucking my phone into the compartment of my new Dooney & Bourke purse, the text conversation I was having with my best friend, Unique, would have to wait. Whatever my man wanted to make him happy, he got. There would never be a day on this green earth when I’d not try to satisfy him.
Looking over at Jerell, I knew he’d heard me complain underneath my breath, but he wouldn’t dare throw me under the bus. For one, he was too consumed with the pussy parade going down before his devilish eyes. And for two, he knew Voodo honored me like a queen and would never put his word over mine. Our connection and bond to one another has been unbreakable since the first day we met.
His name is Shawn “Voodo” James, and I am Simone “Moni” Allen. The two of us have been inseparable as boyfriend and girlfriend for about two years. And for those whole two years, we’ve been nothing but terrorists of the city of Detroit as crime artists. It started the first day we hooked up.
The day I met Voodo was the best and most exciting day of my life. Me and my girl Unique were chilling at a greasy spoon eatery one morning, stuffing our faces, when he walked in setting it off. I didn’t know how his facial features were set up because his face was covered with a black mask, but I was fascinated by his thuggish demeanor nonetheless. I’d never been attracted to preppy boys who kept their pants around their waists secured with a belt. Those dudes never made me tingle like roughnecks did. Anyhow, Voodo ordered everyone to the floor and ordered the cashier to empty the register without hesitation. As employees and patrons, including Unique, panicked following his directions, I folded my arms and threw on the best “come fuck me” expression I could muster up. My confidence was through the roof, so I knew he was gonna eat me up on sight.
“Hey, ma, you didn’t hear me tell everyone to get the fuck on the floor?” Despite him looking at me like a child who was disobeying her father, I returned his hard stare.
I smartly hit him with a comeback. “Yeah, I heard you, playa. What I didn’t hear was you tell everyone to empty their pockets on the way down. Don’t half ass do the job. You might as well hit all of us up.” Knowing that I was walking a fine line with a man I didn’t know, I made sure to bite my lip and let the flirtatiousness in my voice lead my words. I didn’t want to catch a bullet from his gun just in case he wasn’t feeling my ego or style. Unique tugged on my ankle, whispering for me to cooperate and shut up, but I was too far in at this point.
He snickered at my wit. “A’ight, li’l gangster boo. If you want it, then you got it. Everyone on the floor and empty your pockets, ’cause she wants a piece of the action too.” They hurried to follow his orders as I stood still with my mouth turned up into a smirk. “Whatcha waiting on, li’l mama? Grab that shit up so we can make a move.”
I smiled at hearing the words “we can make a move,” and then I made mine, collecting everything of value from every person’s hand except for Unique. It didn’t matter to me that I was in on a robbery. I was trying to see what was up with the man behind the mask. “Now what?”
“You see what type of life I’m living, so that’s your call, ma.” He grabbed the bag from my hand and pulled down his mask. “If you wanna roll with a nigga, let’s go. If not, I’ll see you around the city fa’sho.”
There was no thought necessary once I laid eyes on his face. Not only was he hardcore, but he was sexy as fuck. After picking up the few pieces of bacon that were left on my plate, I picked Unique up by the hand so she could ride out too. “I’m down. Let’s be out.” I’d been the Bonnie to his Clyde ever since.
With the DJ spinning one club banger after the next, the subwoofers and the floorboards were rocking. Ace of Spades was the place to be tonight. Every pole had a dancer swinging from it, every baller in Detroit was out in packs showboating, and no hot-seat, paying lap was empty. Even the C-list celebrity host was getting tipped out of her mind for barely twirling. The consumers got their fixes while the workers got their cash. It all worked out grand.
Voodo was throwing his weight, and it showed. Draped in diamonds and gold chains, he was standing firm like a boss, commanding the attention from men and women alike. Even I was shining the way a woman ought to, with diamonds, Christian Louboutin heels, and a custom-made outfit that stunted on every wannabe bad bitch in attendance. Everyone knew our story and that we weren’t the couple to be fucked with. Instead of us having to demand respect, it was given to us with ease.
Taking a look at the gold Rolex on his arm, Voodo called the dancer out even louder than before. “Yo, ma, what’s up? You with making this money or not?” He waved impatiently for the prettiest dancer to move faster and grace us with her presence. As he sipped from his personal bottle of Moët, careful not to spill any on his blue Versace shirt, he strategically made sure the diamond-studded bezel on his watch stood out.
“Um, I’m good on that, babe,” I finally spoke up to him. “She ain’t gotta dance for me. Matter of fact, I can dance o
n you later,” I cooed to him seductively. “I’m cooling over here in my corner, actually ready to go.” I was playing it cool, because I hated not to please him, but low-key I was fed up seeing the love of my life smack asses and slide dollars between the legs of other women. Now don’t get me wrong, I knew where his heart was and that he’d never dare cheat on me, but I hated seeing his hands touch other women the way he touched me. I might’ve been hardcore when it came to living a life of crime, but I was soft and jealous when it came to my man.
“Come on now, Moni, I already know what you’re thinking, but it ain’t like that tonight. This is more business than pleasure, so do me a favor by falling in line.” He gave me the look I’d seen more than a hundred times. Voodo was up to no good. He was up to what we did best: making motherfucking moves at the expense of others.
“Oh, well that’s all you had to say, baby.” I smiled slyly, automatically falling into my position. I wasn’t caught up in the matrix. I was willingly part of the conspiracy. My role was simple, and that was to hold him down and take charge if necessary. I’d never failed him before, and tonight wasn’t about to be the start of that trend.
“That’s my girl.” He blew a kiss my way. “Ain’t nothing better than having my best friend by my side. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner in crime.”
Damn this nigga melted my heart. Smiling from ear to ear, I wanted to fuck him on the floor of the strip club. I loved when he was gangster and affectionate with me at the same time. “Neither could I, baby boy. Trust and believe we’ll be partners forever after.”
Voodo gave Jerell a high five then a firm nod to signal things were about to get turned up to another level. Jerell didn’t ride with us on all of our missions to get money, but when he did, I knew to expect a full-blown war. Jerell was reckless, unpredictable, and the last person to give a fuck about bodying a nigga. See, me and Voodo had unconditional love for one another. Jerell only loved blood. Popping another bottle of champagne, he surveyed the club, trying to peep whatever mission Voodo was trying to be on while continuing to enjoy his lap dance. I was sure he wasn’t worried about making a move when it was absolutely necessary. His gutter ass stayed ready.
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