Girls from da Hood 13

by Ms. Michel Moore

  Nina, known to the underground strip world of D-Town as Naughty, was on the paper-chase stroll toward our booth, ready to call Voodo out on his bossiness. She knew about Voodo. Everyone in the city of Detroit did. So she was well aware that she was about to get paid or set the hell up. Either way, making money was the name of the game in her world. Just like us, she was knee-deep in trying to win.

  All eyes were locked on her as she moved throughout the club in a pair of eight-inch sparkling silver thigh-highs that made her ass pop. The slim-thick dancer reveled in looking like a redbone hood version of a Barbie doll, in her custom studded teal two-piece, which barely covered her nipples and hairless vagina. With a fiercely cut blond bob, perfectly applied matching makeup, and long lashes she could fly away with, Naughty stood out among the crowd, demanding attention. In the past, she’d been able to pay for her car note, rent, and even custom dancer outfits from the amount of cash Voodo paid into her pile. Once she spotted me in the crew, though, she knew the payout might not as grand. I kept a close tab on my nigga and his pockets, like all women from the hood ought to do.

  “What’s up, boo? You called for me?” she questioned, stepping inside the roped-off booth into Voodo’s face.

  I growled to myself, hating he was so close to her. But I fell back because I knew his mind was on making money instead of getting twerked on. Hurry this shit up, nigga, before I catch a ’tude I can’t fade.

  “Hell yeah, I called for you,” he replied to her too anxiously.

  Although I overlooked it and Voodo was trying not to, he was almost drooling as he stared Naughty’s tantalizing tattooed body up and down. Hell, even I had to give the chick her props for being a bad bitch. When he looked over at me and caught my eyes staring him down, he knew what time it was and that he’d been busted for checking out eye candy in my face. “Get to work,” I mouthed.

  “Bend over and pop that fatty for my girl, ma! Put on a show for my baby right quick.” To add flair to his overkill, he dropped stack of a hundred singles over Naughty’s head before she had the opportunity to even twerk an ass cheek. He invited Jerell into the limelight as well. “Money is nothing over here! Let her know, nigga.”

  “Oh, yeah, baby girl, my man does it up fa’sho,” Jerell commented, but he was busy putting two and two together of what was about to go down. By this time, he’d pushed his own private dancer off his lap and was tipping Naughty out heavy as well.

  Naughty was in a stripper’s heaven. The more money that fell over her head, the harder she danced. Then she popped back onto my lap, working for her cash even more. For a second I enjoyed the dance, then I blocked out everything within the strip club by keeping my eyes focused on Voodo. He was up to something and about to make a move on someone. I just wasn’t sure about the particulars of what and to whom.

  Playing my part well, I leaned back so the dancer could do her job. I even swayed to the beat and stuffed a few bills of my own into her G-string. Whenever there was a setup in place, I always made sure the mark never saw it coming. And since everyone in the club knew that Voodo and I rolled like Bonnie and Clyde, I fa’sho had to leave her unsuspecting.

  “Yeah, that’s what the fuck I’m talking ’bout! Let me get some more of you pretty ladies this way.” Voodo broke another rubber band then threw the whole stack into the air. He was ready to turn the heat up to hell in the Ace of Spades bar. I knew him well. This was all a diversion from what his plan actually was. “Cheers, my baby. We have arrived, and it’s lights out to any chump who’s looking to knock us down.” He looked across the room with a pair of killer eyes. Being his wifey, my eyes followed his, and that’s when they marked the target.

  Jerell might’ve been giving his boy props for doing it big, but he too picked up on Voodo’s eye movements and stance. No words had been exchanged, but all three of us were marking the same target with venom in our eyes. If it ain’t ol’ Felix out in the open, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Niggas always go wrong leading with their emotions. The longer Jerell simultaneously watched Felix and Voodo discreetly checking for one another, it was easy to tell with my experience with them that blood was getting ready to be shed. Jerell’s stance went from laidback to tense within seconds. My gut rumbled with anticipation. I was ready to get it popping too.

  Naughty never picked up on any of this. While she smacked her firm backside and kept occupied, Felix Stewart, better known as Felix the Snitch, stood across the Ace of Spades in his own VIP section, watching the love of his life get preyed upon.

  He knew what was up. He knew the hood didn’t take well to snitches, and once one person found out he’d had a roundtable with the Detroit Police Department earlier this week about crimes me and Voodo were responsible for, there’d be consequences. The news had spread like fire. Running into him tonight wasn’t a coincidence. It was planned out by Voodo especially for payback, and ultimately it was a way to keep our freedom intact.

  With a single gold chain lying on top of his white tee, Felix stood tightlipped beside his bootleg street soldiers with regret etched across his face. I’d already pieced together what my babe’s plot was: to use Felix’s woman as his weak spot. I wasn’t sure if he felt bad for Naughty or felt bad he was about to get dealt with. What I did know was that if he reached for his cell, I’d be pushing his girl off my lap and reaching for my pistol to pop him. His mark buster ass could only call one person for protection, and that was his connect at the precinct. By no means necessary was I gonna let him get the club raided and shut down before my man’s plan was fully played out. Then a sudden move was made.

  “Hey, Voodo, chin check to your left.” Jerell was the first one to mention that Felix was cutting through the crowd.

  “I’m on it, bro, trust and believe. I knew that sissy, soft nigga wouldn’t be able to hold his nuts for much longer with the pussy parade his girl is the star of. I’ve been waiting on his froggish ass to leap.” Pocketing the rest of his stacks, Voodo eyeballed me to make sure I was paying attention, and then he felt for the revolver I knew he kept nestled underneath his shirt. He was more than prepared to reveal his true intentions for the night.

  “Me too. That snitching-ass nigga deserves whatever you’ve got planned for him for trying to take you and Moni down. And by walking into your trap, he deserves even more. These young fools get so caught up in their mark emotions and can’t think straight.”

  “Consider his ass on countdown,” Voodo grimly spoke, then whipped the pistol from his waistband with ease. “It’s time to get it popping with these lame, duck-ass clowns. I don’t play when a nigga comes for me and my girl. Never have and never will.”

  “One hundred grand, my man. You know I’ma hold both of you down.” Reaching under his shirt for the concealed weapon he never left home without either, Jerell maneuvered it out discreetly then held it straight down at his side. For all intents and purposes, he was ready to go to war with his right hand.

  “Hey, ma, get your ass off ol’ girl and back to working the stage. This private party bullshit you got popping over here with this joker is over.” Felix, accompanied by his two-man crew, called themselves intruding our party without problems. Felix already knew what trouble he was in and that Voodo was well aware of him snitching, so I wasn’t sure why he thought shit was about to roll over easy.

  “Naw, nigga, it don’t look like she sweating to leave. She good, my manz.” Voodo was more than cocky, responding before Naughty had a chance to. It was all a game to Voodo, to deflate Felix’s ego even more by proving loyalty would fuck you over if you couldn’t remain loyal to the hood code.

  “I ain’t yo’ muthafuckin manz, and this here ain’t the streets.” Looking Voodo up and down in his name-brand tags, Red Bottom kicks, and money-loaded pockets, it was obvious the snitching street runner was feeling some type of way. “What the fuck, ma? You heard ya man. Get up off that bitch and let’s be out!” Pushing past Voodo, Felix bumped him intentionally before yanking Naughty by the arm up off of me.

 
; “Yo, my nigga, apologize to my lady.” Voodo became the divider between him and Naughty. “I don’t fucking play when it comes to me and mine. You ain’t get the memo after all these years? Don’t be coming over here on no shit with your li’l play bodyguards, my dude.” Ready for war, Voodo knew when he walked through the door he was gonna end up shutting the club down.

  “Nigga, what? I ain’t apologizing to that yellow-bone ho,” Felix cockily disrespected me before his head snapped back.

  Voodo shattered the glass Moët bottle over Felix’s head, and he fell to the ground, flopping like a fish. “Get them bitch niggas, Jerell! I got this clown.” He stomped and kicked ol’ boy into the ground. His head bounced up and down off the floor as blood splattered from his mouth. “No to an apology? It’s bad enough you’re a snitching-ass nigga, but I’ma make it so you don’t ever speak an ill word about my fam again.”

  Red Bottom shoes ruined, Voodo was proving a point to Felix while Naughty watched with disbelieving eyes. Even with my pistol loaded with one up top, I was feeling more in love than ever before. My man always rode for me. For his actions tonight, I was gonna make sure my jaws locked up from sucking his dick once we got home. Shifting my attention to Jerell, I saw he was manhandling two men at the same time, eventually cold cocking them both in the head and making them fall to the ground motionless.

  Naughty hurriedly scooped the money up off the floor, then rushed alongside the other dancers scattering like roaches to the locker room and exits nearest them. She wasn’t the least bit concerned about her man getting beaten to a pulp. Felix might’ve been her man, but she wasn’t ready to meet her Maker, nor did she have unconditional love for him like I did for mine. I would’ve run after her, but Voodo never gave me the word to do so. This was his plan, which meant I was to follow his lead.

  Random shots rang throughout the club, making the scene hotter than ever. I gripped my piece and aimed around the room, ready to light up whoever was busting shots.

  “Hold back, baby girl.” Voodo looked up at me from stomping Felix. “We good. Trust and believe that we’ll always be good.”

  “A’ight, big boss man, what now? I’m sure the cops are on their way,” Jerell shouted, swiftly stomping one of Felix’s men in the back with the hard sole of his Timb boot.

  “Slang them lightweight punks over your shoulder and put them in your car. I’ll handle this disrespectful snitch.” Voodo threw out the command, preparing to abduct three unsuspecting men. Jerell, large in statue and well over 220 pounds, moved like a beast, grabbing both of Felix’s guys up and getting them out of the club. Knocking over tables that stood in his path, he was out the door in no time.

  “Yo, Moni babe, let’s be out! Pull the truck around to the door!”

  After giving him a quick peck on the lips, I rushed to get our whip as he wanted. I was never planning to give my hood nigga up. I loved his gangster ass to the depth of me.

  Chapter Two

  Voodo

  Two Years Ago

  “Is Alexis dressed so we can roll out for the weekend?”

  “Well, good morning to you too, Voodo.” Yolanda rolled her eyes. “She can be ready in a hot second if you’ve got my child support payment.” She gave me the “bitch, better have my money” look. I knew this morning was about to turn sour.

  Reaching in my pocket, I dug out one of the last fifty dollar bills I’d earned from my job this week and slid it through the mail slot. She watched the bill fall to the floor, then she turned her nose up in disgust.

  “These little nickel and dimes you keep dropping off ain’t doing shit for your daughter, nigga. You’re gonna have to come better than this,” Yolanda barked through the locked gate of her door. “You think the hood ain’t talking? I know you’ve got enough cash to smoke, drink, and club with Jerell’s lame ass. So I know you’ve got enough dough to buy Alexis some shoes, clothes, and new toys. Not to mention give me a few dollars for raising her ass. You only come through on weekends, and that leaves me babysitting with no life five out of seven days.” Yolanda took being a mother as a jail sentence or torture. Some women shouldn’t be blessed with the gift to have kids.

  I’d been going through hell for the last three years with my baby’s mom. Nothing I ever did for our daughter was good enough for her to feel satisfied. The measly job I had couldn’t even be considered a real job because it only paid out a few hundred bucks a week. That wasn’t enough for me to live life like a man, let alone give her the stipend she felt was fair.

  “There’s some shit in the game if you can’t make fifty a week pop for a three-year-old, Yolanda. You know a nigga ain’t making shit at that punk-ass car wash. Plus I’ve gotta pay for a roof to remain over my head. Give a nigga a break,” I spat, irritated that my morning was starting off so roughly.

  “Naw, you’ve got life fucked up, Voodo. There’s some shit in the game if you can’t find a job better than washing cars. Just ’cause you choose to be a piece of shit doesn’t mean our daughter’s life deserves to be on the same level. I suggest you step your game up.”

  As I looked Yolanda up and down, my hand was itching to reach out and slap the spit from her mouth. As disrespectful as she was, I couldn’t believe I was still sticking my dick in her from time to time. Watching her mouth move as she continued to spit disrespectful shit, my mind was starting to crank up with ideas on how I could make more cash. My daughter Alexis was the only good thing I had going on in my pitiful life. I could admit as a real dude that me not seeing her was gonna drive me insane.

  “So what’s your game plan with your lame ass? Are you gonna go slang on the corner or what? You’ve gotta at least double this whack-ass fifty spot per week in order for me to let her leave with you,” she threatened. “And that’s only temporarily. Each month I think I’ll raise it a few bucks to keep you on your toes.” She smirked devilishly, knowing my heart’s weak spot for our child.

  “Don’t worry about what a nigga gonna do to eat, Yolanda. Have my daughter ready in a few hours when I return. If you don’t, I’ma kick ya fucking door in,” I threatened her back, meaning every word I growled.

  “You’ll be paying for that too, if you dare with ya punk ass.” She was resilient at disrespecting me. That only sent my rage into overdrive more.

  I’d never been the hustling-and-bustling type for fast cash like many of the dudes in the hood were. That’s probably why Yolanda dissed and dismissed me in the first place. Sure, I thought about slanging after my inexperienced ass got fired from one job after another, but my pride wasn’t about to let me slang dope on a corner.

  Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t feel like getting the community high was a profession that was beneath me, I just couldn’t stoop to the level of begging another nigga with a humongous ego to let me slang Baggies for them. I wanted to start off on top. Fuck working my way up from the bottom. I was twenty-five, not sixteen or seventeen like most of the runners of the hood were. If I couldn’t be a boss, I’d rather not be shit but a beer-guzzling, weed-smoking, car-washing nigga forever. I wasn’t about to deal with being mocked or belittled. Judge my choice however you want. Everybody’s got reasons for how they operate.

  Jumping in the hoop ride I could barely call a car, I revved the oil-needing engine before whipping off from in front of Yolanda’s house. If the only way she was gonna let me see Alexis was to double that fifty, I was gonna have to make it happen.

  “What up, Voodo? I ain’t know you worked today.” Jerell gave me dap as soon as I clocked in. “I thought it was daddy/daughter day.”

  Jerell and I were aces. I’d met him the first day I started working at this hell hole, which was his first day out of jail from bodying a nigga. Each day we worked the same shift, we shot the shit and got high to pass the time. Just like me, he didn’t slang dope. But that’s because his big ass would stand out to the cops, probably landing him back behind bars.

  “I didn’t, but my ho-ass baby mama on that bullshit again about cash. I’ma try to make it in t
ips real fast then shoot a move back through there.” I dropped my head. “I swear it be times I wanna put my fist through her face for using Alexis as a pawn.”

  “That’s why I only stick it to these bitches with rubbers on and bounce. I can’t trust no chick with the rest of my life. A kid is too permanent,” he said, keeping it real.

  The afternoon was bumping as usual. It was a hot summer day in Detroit. No matter if their car was a piece of junk or glamour on wheels, everyone was pulling up to get their whips shined up. Me and Jerell were on the tail end, drying cars off for the lame dollar tips we sometimes got. At the rate things were going, it was gonna take me drying fifty cars to make the double-up Yolanda was demanding.

  “What up, nigga? I’ve got five dollars if you can put a little pep in ya step. I’ve got some hot pussy waiting on me.” A dope boy from the hood tossed five singles my way like I was a trick dancer.

  Usually, I kept my ego under wraps, but today wasn’t one of those days, especially since I couldn’t grab a bag of weed to help zone me out. Ol’ boy had just treaded into grimy territory with me. Looking at him from head to toe, I spit on the ground then walked up into his face.

  “You better watch who the fuck you speaking to like that, blood. I ain’t ya lackey.” I was caught up in my emotions.

  “You ain’t a boss, either,” he disrespectfully cut into me.