Me and My Hittas

by Tranay Adams

“ I suggest you put cha lil;toy up, ‘cause Binem gone be sliding through here any minute.” Gangsta told him. “When you handle that come up stairs I need to holla at chu.”

  “Alright,” Pavielle said. He turned around to Panic who was about to let the AK-47 off in the air again. Before the chocolate giant could pull the trigger, he snatched the weapon free of his possession.

  “Gimmie my shit, man,” Pavielle wrapped the AK -47 back up in the sky blue blanket and bopped off to stash his new toy.

  “Youz a stingy ass nigga, Blood,” Panic watched his road dawg walk away.

  Chapter Two

  Vayda stepped inside of the bathroom closing the door shut behind her. Standing before the medicine cabinet’s mirror, she removed her bra and panties, allowing them to drop into a pile at her feet. With her hands firmly on her hips, she smiled as she looked herself over, admiring her curvy form. Now, don’t get it fucked up, light skin did have her flaws and all just like any other woman, but still, her body was remarkable. Her melon like breasts sagged and she had a pudgy stomach and stretch marks on her thighs and butt, but that’s what made her so sexy. A person could tell that she was a real woman and real women weren’t perfect like those chicks that they had on the cover of magazines, all airbrush painted with accessories and shit. Nah, real women had flawed bodies just like Vayda, and that’s what made them desirable. Hell, it wasn’t like her man was complaining. He loved everything about her, including her body. So as long as boo was happy she was happy.

  Vayda patted her stomach and rubbed it, thinking about the life that was growing inside of her. She hadn’t told Pavielle that she was expecting because she didn’t know how to break the news to him. For that matter, she didn’t know how he would take it. He could totally flip out on her and try to convince her to get an abortion, or he could be just as excited as she was. Her heart told her that hubby was going to be joyous once she told him that he was going to a father, so she figured that she’d break the news to him soon.

  Vayda turned to walk away from her reflection when she saw something in the mirror that caused her face to ball up. She turned to the side and looked over her shoulder at her reflection. Along down her back she saw several keloid welts that overlapped each other. She didn’t know how she could ever forget that they were there, but from time to time she managed to do just that. Tears built up in her eyes and obscured her vision making it seem as if she was looking through a crystal. Her pain came running down her face in buckets and she whimpered, quickly smacking her hands over her mouth. Her shoulders shuddered as she stared at herself in the mirror. She’d never forget the night that she’d gotten such ugly scars, or the man that had given them to her. She remembered them scrapping over her trap being short. Although she’d gotten in a few good punches, it was his blow to her jaw that left her on the receiving end of a possible loss.

  *** Buddy scrambled to his feet, his jeweled hand clutching a straight razor. His hairy chest jumped up and down as he breathed heavily, cheeks huffing and puffing. His usually curly hair was a mess, there was a swelling under his right eye and his silk blue shirt was torn. He wiped his swollen bleeding lip with the back of his fist and swallowed the blood that had filled his grill. It tasted of metal but he didn’t acknowledge it. Nah, his attention was solely focused on Vayda who was crawling away from him. Her eyes were set on her handbag which had her nickel plated .22 hanging halfway out of it.

  “Fuck you think you goin’ bitch? I ain’ t done witcho mothafuckin’ ass yet, not by a long shot.” he swore, his lethal eyes held firmly on her as he stalked after her, taking his sweet time. “I’ma carve you up like a Christmas goose.” He licked his chops and bit down on his bottom lip.

  Tears floo ded Vayda’s swollen face, mixing in with the blood running from her nose. She moved as fast as she could with a twisted ankle, trying to make it to her handbag where she knew her piece was. Buddy had given it to her in case some trick overstepped his boundaries and she had to set him straight. Now she had every intention of using it on his ass if she able to get her hands on it.

  Vayda had just grabbed her handbag and gripped the small gun, when she saw Buddy’s shadow eclipse her on the carpet. Her eyes widened with fear and she gasped. His grunting flooded her ears and she felt fire rip back and forth across her back. Through the floor she saw his shadow swinging his the hand which held the straight razor back and forth across her back causing her narrowing her eyelids into slits. She to grimace, shrieked in

  excruciation and tried to reach over her shoulder instinctively to stop him, but he started slashing at her hand as well, opening up a nasty gash on it.

  Vayda howled in pain and looked at her ruined hand, oozing with bright red blood. Her mind was quickly taken away from the pain though, because he continued to hack away at her rear, making it look like bleeding pastrami meat. “Arghhhhh!” Tears flushed down her cheeks and she bit down hard on her bottom lip to combat the excruciation from the blazing fire in her back. Gripping the small gun with both hands, she turned around on her back and pointed the deadly end of her weapon at her attacker’s chest. He froze where he stood, with his head tilted down, chin resting in his chest. His eyebrows were lowered and he was glaring down at her, lips peeled back into a sneer. His shoulders rose and fell as he breathed, blood droplets falling from the end of his blade, soiling the carpet.

  “Now, just what in the fuck do you plan on doing with that, huh? Yo’ lil’ red ass ain’t built for no mur…” Pow! A shot to his chest cut his shit talking short. His eyes widen with surprise and his mouth hung open. He touched the hole in his chest and his palm came away crimson. He couldn’t believe it. That bitch had really shot him. “You...you...you fuckin’ whore!” he roared and his eyes darkened with hatred. Screaming in a rage, he charged at her with his razor held above his head ready slice her down to the bone. Squeezing her eyelids shut tightly, Vayda pulled back on the trigger of her weapon. It kicked back when it spat back to back, propelling him backwards with every bullet released. Pow! Pow! Pow! Pow! Buddy dropped his straight razor as he went staggering back getting tangled up in the curtains and went crashing through the window’s glass. He hollered out as he went hurtling towards the apartment complex’s parking lot. Still clutching her gun and wincing, Vayda slowly scrambled to her feet, clenching her jaws to combat the sharp pains zipping back and forth across her back. She crept towards the window with precaution and placed her back up against the side of it. Carefully, she looked over and out of the window. A surprised expression went across her face when she only saw broken glass and the curtains below. Figuring that she’d better get the hell out of there before he or the police came looking for her, she packed a bag and stole the money Buddy had stashed inside of the speaker box in his bedroom. That night she hopped on a Greyhound to Los Angeles where she found a job as a cashier at Louisiana fried chicken and met Pavielle shortly thereafter.

  Vayda wiped her eyes and face with her hands and then looked back up at her reflection smiling. The nightmare that she had experienced back then was over and now she was living a dream come true with the man that she deserved. Meeting Pavielle had been the best thing that had happened to her. She was sure that once she told him about the baby that he would be just as happy as she was. Having been in and out of foster homes all of her life, Vayda didn’t know what it was like to have a family and a stable place to call home. So she couldn’t wait for the day to come for her to have one all of her own. Something told her that this was it. This was the time to finally settled down and get the one thing she’d been missing all of her life…a family.

  After plugging up the curling iron so it could get hot so she could do her hair once she’d gotten out of the shower, she turned on the dials that operated the shower. Hot water came spraying out of the showerhead, quickly filling the bathroom with a fog that masked the medicine cabinet’s mirror. She pulled her curly hair back up in a ponytail at the top of her head and tangled a rubber band around it so that her hair wouldn’t get wet. Afterwa
rds she stepped inside of the tub and grabbed a loofer, soaping it up with Dove body wash. She smiled and sung as she lathered her form, masking herself with white foam from her neck on down.

  ***

  Pavielle knocked on his uncle’s bedroom door. “Come in.” Gangsta called out from the other side of the door. As soon as Pavielle crossed the threshold into his uncle’s bedroom he was struck by his attire. Gangsta was razorsharp. He was G’d up in a feathered brim, cream tailored suit, tie, baby blue button-down and two tone snakeskin Stacy Adams. Gangsta was a ruggedly handsome man with a caramel hue. He wore his hair in a fade that blended in perfectly with his thin goatee. He was six feet tall and had the physique of Lou Ferrigno. He had diamond earings in both ears. His eyes were hidden behind gold frames and a Presidential Rolex hugged his wrist. On his pinky finger there was an icy ring worthy of a mafia don.

  “Damn, unc, don’t hurt’em!” Pavielle said, plopping down on the king sized bed. “This is that O.G shit. What chu know about it, young nigga?” Gangsta asked as he adjusted his cufflinks and struck poses fit to bless the cover of GQ Magazine.

  “Whoo! Is that O.G Gangsta from The Bottoms that’s killing them fools in that tailored and them Stacy’s? Get’em, unc.”Pavielle smiled proudly, looking on at his uncle.

  “Shiiieet, I’m fresh to death, niggaz can’t tell me nothing.” he adjusted his tie in the mirror.

  “Aye, unc, what was it you wanted to see me about?” wonderment crossed his face.

  “Got a couple pounds of Kush I want chu to break down and bag up into twenty-fivedollar sacks.” Gangsta’s father died of a heart attack when he was seventeen years old, leaving him the man of the house. Seeing his mother struggling to keep a roof over their heads and food on the table, he took it to the streets to “Get It How He Lived”. He started off selling drugs hand over fist but eventually became the neighborhood dope man. From there he had his section of The Low Bottoms on lock. A nigga couldn’t get money by his way if h wasn’t copping from him or kicking up money for taxes. That’s just how it was. His word was law and if anybody went against the grain they faced certain death. Straight like that.

  Pavielle and Gouch’s parents were murdered when they were little, leaving Gangsta the man of the house and the only male in the boys lives. The O.G knew his nephews praised him as if he was a holy figure, and therefore they would hold onto his words as if they were gospel. So, he took it upon himself to administer some kind of guidance. He was helping his mother raise his nephews as best as he could. He loved the brothers as if they were his sons. He knew the dangers of his lifestyle and how alluring it could be to his nephews. He found himself playing tug-of-war with their lives, with him pulling them in one direction and the streets pulling them in the other. It was a battle he ended up losing.

  “Where is it?”

  “Under the bed there.” Pavielle reached under the bed and pulled out a duffle bag. He sat it on his lap and unzipped it. He pulled out two pounds of Purple Kush in Ziploc bags. The weed was so potent that he could smell it through the Ziplocs. He knew that this was that fire. Pavielle unzipped the Ziploc bags and inhaled the odor of the rich green buds sprinkled with purple crystals that were inside. He flinched as the strong aroma came into his contact with his nasal passages.

  “Damn, unc, this is that Oooh wee!” Pa vielle declared closing the Ziploc and shoving it back into the duffle bag. “So, where are you headed? You gotta hot date tonight?”

  “It’s that time of the month again; I gotta go see my boy.” Gangsta said. That “Boy” he was referring to was his cocaine connection, Jesus Arturo, known in the streets as Black Jesus. He was meeting the Mexican kingpin at a Spanish restaurant where they were to make a drop off and exchange.

  “So who are you taking, Shafonda?” Pavielle inquired.

  “Nah, she can’t make it so I’m taking Vayda.” Gangsta told him, fixing his brim on his head.

  Pavielle’s face gave to a scowl hearing that the woman his uncle was taking out was his own.

  “Who?” he frowned, trying to make sure he had heard right.

  “Who did you say?” “You heard right. Vayda… your girl,” Gangsta said again. “Shafonda cancelled on me at the last minute; something about her mother being sick or some shit. But I’m not complaining. Shafonda’s fine,but she don’t have shit on Vayda.” He tucked the chrome, pearl handle .45 into the small of his back.

  Pavielle flashed his uncle a slight grin to hide his jealousy, but the O.G could tell that taking his lady out didn’t sit too well with him. He knew firsthand how jealous his nephew could get; many of men had lost their lives trying to get next to Vayda.

  “Vayda, saved my life.” Gangsta confessed. “I offered to lay afew dollars on her…”

  “But I wasn’t having it!” a female voice said from the doorway. Pavielle and Gangsta whip their heads around to the door way; their eyes doubled in size and their mouths dropped open in awe, seeing the gorgeous redbone before them. Vayda’s curvy frame filled out a strapless white Dolce & Gabana dress. Her small manicured feet were in a pair of pink Steve Madden high heels. Her hair was pulled back in a bun to show off her pink diamond earrings Pavielle bought her for her twenty-second birthday. A platinum & pink diamond necklace adorned her neck and a Jaeger Lecoultre watch with pink diamonds surrounding its face graced her wrist. The dress and all of the accessories complimented Vayda’s beauty well. She looked like she was ready to attend The Ball with Cinderella.

  Gangsta whistled as he took in the sight that was the gorgeous Ms. Vayda Perry. He looked over to Pavielle who still had his mouth open, saliva had pooled in his mouth and drool threatened to drip from the corner of it. Vayda was even more beautiful than the day he first met her.

  ***

  “Man, I’m hungrier than a hostage!” Panic pushed the champagne Suburban through the streets.

  “Shit, what chu tryna grab to eat?” Pavielle asked.

  “I don’t know. I could go for some Cantonese food; you tryna fuck with Paul’s Kitchen.”

  “I’ve gotta taste for some chicken and fries.” Pavielle said.

  “What about some Church’s?” “Blood, you the only nigga I know that like that nasty ass Church’s Chicken!” Panic said, shaking his head. “I don’t really have a taste for no bird, but I’ll tell you what, though. There’s a Louisiana Fried Chicken spot on the corner of Manchester and Normandie. They have chicken and Chinese food there.”

  “Bool, but ain’t that Eight Trey hood?” “Yeah, but we’re good, though. I know a couple of Treys,” Panic told him. “Some of my family is from their set.”

  “I Griff you, but that ain’t enough insurance for me.” Panic reached over him, popped open the glove-box, and produced a Glock .9mm. He tossed the compact gun onto his lap and smacked the glove-box back shut.

  “There! Is that enough insurance for you?” the big man grinned. “Nah,” Pavielle examined the Glock in his lap. “But this is…” he brandished a banger of his own. It was twice the size of Panic’s weapon.

  They both laughed.

  *** When Panic and Pavielle hopped out of the Suburban and approached the chicken spot they noticed there were mostly old people and females inside, which was fine by Pavielle because he wasn’t looking for trouble. He just wanted to grab a bite to eat. The entire way over to the chicken spot his stomach was talking to him like that plant in The Little Shop of Horrors movie. Feed me, Booby! Feed me!

  Pavielle and Panic pushed their way through the double doors of the hood establishment. As soon as Pavielle stepped to the window to place his order, he was at a loss for words for the beauty behind the cash register. Little momma was finer than a mothafucka, and she was working the hell out that red and black uniform. Redbone was banging like a B.G that had just finished getting processed through the county jail. She possessed a face and a body that deserved the cover of Smooth Magazine. She had a rose gold complexion and smooth blotch less skin. Her long curly sandy brown hair fell just past her shoulders. And her
eyes were a greenish blue, depending on where she was standing when the light hit her.

  Vayda snapped her fingers before Pavielle’s eyes trying to snap him out of his daze.

  “Hellooo, hi there,” She smiled after snapping Pavielle out of his daze. “May I take your order, please?” “Blood, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Panic frowned, looking from his nigga to the cashier. “Order your mothafucking food so we can bounce.”

  “Oh, sorry about that,” Pavielle apologized.

  “It’s okay.” Vayda giggled. “Our low prices tend to do that to the customers. They’re stunned by how good and affordable the grub is here.

  “Oh, it ain’t the grub here that’s got me tripping,” Pavielle confessed. “Believe that.” Vayda blushed and smiled, she couldn’t help herself; the young nigga was just how she liked her men, cute and thuggish.

  “Oh, she smiles?” Pavielle eyed the redbone seductively. Vayda shook her head and took on a more serious approach.

  “May I take your order, sir?” She asked. Catching on, he straightened himself straight out “Alright,” he looked over the menu above her head. “Let me get a two piece; a breast and a wing, a small fries, a large lemonade, no ice, a sweet potato pie and, uh, your name and your phone number.” He said slyly, pulling out a wad of $100 dollar bills from his pocket. He made sure the crisps roll of Benjamin Franklins before the redbone’s eyes. He wanted her to know that he was holding, and that he wasn’t just some bum ass nigga trying to spit game.

  “Sorry, sweetie, but my name and number aren’t on the menu.” Vayda stated seriously, the least bit impressed by his money. She punched in the total of his meal on the register. “Eight twenty-fiveis your total, sir.” She said with a no none sense attitude.

  Pavielle peeled of a $100 dollar bill and handed it to her. She handed him back his change and left to prepare his food; as soon as she was out of earshot Panic started in on Pavielle.

  “Ah, Blood!” Panic laughed. “Light skin dissed you, kid.” “Shut up, fat boy!” Pavielle said, playfully throwing jabs and punches at the refrigerator of a man. Once Pavielle and Panic were back in the Suburban they checked their food to make sure everything was there. The first thing the young nigga noticed when cracking open his chicken box was the cashier’s name and telephone number scribbled on the receipt. Right below the ten digits was a purple lip-stick print kiss. The same color of the lip-stick that the curly haired beauty had on. Pavielle picked up the receipt and stashed it in his pocket.