by K'wan
Chucky thought about testing Meeka, but he knew better than anyone she would give as good as she got.
“Let’s just go.” Persia tugged at his arm.
He gave the girls one last, hard look before letting Persia pull him away. “Fuck all you crazy bitches. Let’s go, baby.” He hugged Persia to him and they walked off.
“Fuck you too, you closet junkie!” Karen called after him. “You got him for now, Persia, let’s see how long you can keep him! Ask him where he was earlier when you were getting your beauty sleep!”
“Don’t even sweat that shit, Karen. Chucky is a slimeball-ass nigga and Persia will see for herself, sooner or later,” said Meeka.
“I’m just tight about how he tried to play me. I was always down for him and whatever he needed me to do, and I don’t have a pot to piss in to show for it.” She was emotional. Quiet as kept, Karen had been playing this game with Chucky since she was thirteen years old, and he was the cute new dude on the corner. She was a naïve young girl and he always said the right things. Karen loved Chucky, and she thought that he loved her, but as she got older she began to see Chucky for what he really was: a silver-tongued dog. Still, she found that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay away from him.
“Niggas come a dime a dozen,” Meeka was saying. “Fuck that nigga Chucky. Eventually karma is going to fix him for the games he plays with young girls’ hearts.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more,” Karen told her and started walking down the block.
“Where are you going? I thought we were gonna smoke!” Ty called after her.
“Y’all go ahead and get high without me,” Karen called back. “I’m going to see if my mom has got karma’s phone number.”
For the whole ride to Queens, Chucky was tense. He chain-smoked Newports and gritted his teeth, while navigating New York City traffic. Someone kept calling his cell phone, but every time Chucky ignored the call.
“Who was that, Karen?” Persia asked sarcastically.
“No, and why are you trying to be funny?” Chucky asked with an attitude.
“I’m not trying to be funny. I’m trying to be informed. What was that all about with you and Karen?”
“It wasn’t about nothing.” Chucky dismissed it.
“It looked like it was about something. Chucky, is there something going on between you and Karen that I need to know about? You know she’s a friend of mine.”
“Persia, don’t give me that because your friendship with Karen didn’t matter when you came home with me after the club last night,” Chucky said.
“Don’t try to make this about me, I’m talking about you! Chucky, it’s obvious to a duck that there’s some kind of connection between you and Karen. I know what the streets are saying, but I wanna hear it from your mouth.”
“Persia, what you want me to tell you, that me and Karen fucked a few times? That’s all it was. She was a bitch I could call on when I wanted some pussy. You satisfied?” he snapped.
“Are y’all still fucking?” Persia asked.
“No,” Chucky said, a little too quickly for her taste.
“Then what was all that stuff she was saying about asking you where you were when I was sleeping?”
“Persia, you know for yourself that Karen will say anything to cut a muthafucka. I did see her when I went out to get the food and we did sit in my car for a second and smoke a blunt, but that was about it,” Chucky said, telling half the story.
Persia gave him a disbelieving look. “Yeah, right.”
“What? You trying to call me a liar? Check this out, Persia, I ain’t been explaining myself to no chicks and I ain’t gonna start now,” Chucky capped.
“So now I’m just a chick? Earlier I was your lady. What a difference an hour or so makes,” Persia said sarcastically.
“Being my lady and being my mama are two different things, Persia. I’m a nigga who is always gonna do what I wanna do, and as long as I’m taking care of me and my shorty I don’t expect to get any grief about it. Now, if you don’t think that’s something you can handle, after I drop you off you can go back to your life of broke-ass teenage niggas and dirt weed in high school hallways.”
Chucky’s words hurt, as they were meant to. Persia hadn’t intended to upset Chucky, yet she didn’t want to play the fool either. She wasn’t dumb, she knew Chucky had fucked Karen and there was a good possibility that they were still fucking, but it was Persia he had chosen to wear on his arm. Chucky was a dog, to be sure, but Persia was sure that she could tame him.
An hour later, they were turning onto Persia’s block. She had him let her out a few houses down instead of pulling up in front of hers. He double parked and let the engine idle, staring straight ahead without so much as even looking at Persia.
“I’m sorry.” She broke the silence.
“It’s all good,” Chucky said. He knew she would break first if he waited long enough.
“No, it’s really not. I don’t want you thinking I’m some crazy, jealous-ass broad who just wants to question you. The only reason I was even pressing it is because me and Karen are friends.”
Chucky looked at her. “Persia, I’m about to give you some cold truth and I hope you grow from it. Bitches like Karen don’t have no friends. They go from person to person, using for whatever they can. And when shit doesn’t go her way, she wants to either fight or kick dirt on their names. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this, because she’s done it to you twice already.”
Chucky did have a bit of a point. Karen had always acted jealous over what Persia had, be it from boyfriends to new gear, she never seemed to be truly happy for anything she did. Persia had been seeing it for years, but having someone call her on it made it seem more real.
“I guess you’re right,” Persia mumbled.
“Of course I’m right. Persia, I ain’t gonna tell you nothing wrong. Bitches like Karen are poisonous bottom feeders and fucking with her is only going to bring you down. Now let’s kiss and make up.” Chucky leaned in and puckered his lips. Persia kissed him passionately and just like that she wasn’t even mad at him anymore. “Call me later and let me know that everything is okay.”
“I will.” Persia reached for the door handle then paused. “Chucky, I need a favor.”
“What you need, baby?” He dug in his pocket and pulled out his bankroll, prepared to break her off.
“No, I don’t need any money, but thank you. I know that between whatever happened with Marty and hearing my mother bitching, it’s going to be a long night. When it’s all said and done, I know I’m gonna need something to calm my nerves.”
“Say no more, I know exactly what you need.” Chucky reached in the glove box and pulled out the bag containing the weed and the last few crumbs of crack. “Take that with you.” He handed it to her.
“Thanks, baby.” She kissed him, before stuffing the bag into her purse. “Let me go and deal with the mess that is my life.”
“If it gets too crazy, you call me. I’ll have you jump in a cab and come back to my crib. I owe you for last night anyway.” Chucky smiled.
“Thanks, boo.” Persia smiled and got out of the car.
Persia had barely made it onto the curb before Chucky was pulling off. She couldn’t help but to wonder if he was in a rush to get back to Karen to try to smooth things over with her. At one point Karen had been her homegirl and Persia wanted that back, but when she extended her hand, Karen spat in it. That was one time too many as far as Persia was concerned. They were now on opposite sides of the playing field. Karen was welcome to try to compete for Chucky’s affections if she liked, but Persia had something she didn’t: new pussy.
She was walking up the path to her house when a voice in the darkness startled her.
“Good evening, Persia.” She hadn’t even noticed Richard sitting on the steps of their house. The porch lights were off so all she could see was his silhouette and the burning cigar he was smoking.
“Oh, hi, Rich
ard,” Persia said.
“Nice dress; a little much for a sleepover though, don’t you think?” he asked, looking at her outfit.
Persia tugged the dress down. She’d forgotten she was still dressed from the club. “Richard, before y’all start tripping, let me explain—”
“Persia,” he cut her off. “You don’t owe me any words because your words don’t mean anything, so I wouldn’t take them seriously anyhow. Your mother on the other hand is worried sick.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Persia said.
“And who was that?”
“Who was who?” Persia asked as if she had no idea what Richard was talking about.
“The red BMW that dropped you off, who was that?”
“That was nobody. One of my girlfriends dropped me off,” Persia lied.
Richard gave her a disbelieving look. “A cold world breeds hard men and it’s obvious you’re looking to learn that firsthand.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Persia, I can understand being a teenager, but you’re getting reckless and I don’t like it.”
Persia was taken aback, because Richard had never spoken to her like that before. “Excuse you? I’m sorry, but I didn’t know that it was for you to like or dislike whatever I do. You’re not my father, Richard.”
“You’re right, and you’re lucky I’m not because I’d give you the ass kicking you’ve been prancing around begging for,” Richard snapped. “Your mother and I work hard to give you everything, but you walk around like you’re entitled to the world. Your bullshit is tearing your mother, my wife, apart and I’m not gonna stand for it. You need to get your shit together if you plan to stay under this roof.”
“Well that’s mighty presumptuous of you, considering this isn’t your house.” Persia snaked her neck. “Don’t get it fucked up, you’ve been good to me and my mom for as long as I’ve known you, but don’t act like you snatched us out of the damn ghetto. We were living pretty good long before you came along, and we’ll be living good when my father gets out of prison and you’re gone!”
Richard reared back like he had just been punched. “Is that what you think? Your father is going to come home from prison, riding a white horse and pluck my family away from me? Let me enlighten you on a few things, little girl. Your father didn’t land in prison by accident because he was a victim of circumstance, he’s in there because he’s a murderer and that’s where murderers go. Since I’ve been with your mother I’ve done nothing but try to be a good man to her . . . to you. I never tried to be your father or make you think less of him. I just wanted to be a good man, but that isn’t enough for Princess P, is it? I guess it’s because you miss your daddy so much that you’re trying to land your simple ass in a prison cell next to his.”
Persia felt tears well up in her eyes. She had never seen this side of Richard before. “I don’t have to take this shit.”
“You sure in the hell don’t. You’ll be eighteen soon and able to strike out on your own, since you think you got it all figured out,” Richard said.
“You kicking me out?”
Richard folded his arms. “I’m telling you that if you’re willing to act like a respectable young lady and keep your mother happy you can stay, but if you wanna run around like you got a fire burning in your panties you can take it to the streets with the rest of the working girls.” Richard had gone too far and he knew it, but what was said couldn’t be taken back.
The porch light flickered on, and Michelle opened the front door. “What’s going on out here?” When her eyes landed on Persia she breathed a sigh of relief. “Persia, where the hell have you been? Do you know how worried we’ve been?”
“I’m sorry I worried you, Mom, and it’ll never happen again. I’ll talk to you about it later, but for right now I think I need to go, since I’m not welcome in this house.” She cut her eyes as Richard, before storming into the house and up to her room.
“What the hell is going on?” Michelle asked Richard.
“That girl has a false sense of reality and someone had to be truthful with her,” Richard said.
“Richard, what did you say to my child?” Michelle asked.
“Nothing that she didn’t need to hear. I might’ve gone a little far, but no further than she did by telling me that her father was going to swoop in from prison and knock me out of the box. I’m tired of Persia walking around here like she owns the place.”
“Technically she does, since Face left the house in her trust,” Michelle informed him. “Richard, I know sometimes Persia can be hard to deal with, but she’s still a child who’s been through a lot in her life. You should sometimes be more mindful of that.”
“So I’m supposed to let her pop off at the mouth and not say anything?” Richard asked.
“Of course not, baby. I know you’re not Persia’s biological father, but you’re the only father she’s known since she was little. You have a right to set her straight when she’s not being respectful to you, but know your limits. Now, I’m going to for sure jump in her ass about this staying out all night, but whatever it is that you said to her that’s making her feel like she’s no longer welcome in this house, you need to fix it.”
Richard wanted to argue his point, but he knew Michelle had a point. His resentment for the things Persia had been doing was building up, but he shouldn’t have lashed out like that, especially about her father. If he could he’d fix it. Richard hiked up the stairs to Persia’s room and knocked on the door. When he didn’t get any answer, he pushed it open and found the room empty.
“Persia,” he called, stepping into the room. He looked in her bathroom and walk-in closet, but there was no sign of her. Outside her open window he heard a car door closing. He looked out just in time to see Persia hopping in the back of a taxi. “Fuck,” he cursed. He was going to try to catch her, but by the time he made it downstairs to the car the taxi would be long gone. Michelle was never going to forgive him for this.
PART 4
UP IN SMOKE
CHAPTER 26
Li’l Monk was awakened by a heavy banging on his door. Instinctively, the first thing he did was grab the gun from under his pillow. He crept to the door, barefoot and dressed only in his boxers, with the gun at the ready. It was very possible his father had lost his key again and it was him banging on the door, but after all that had happened over the past forty-eight hours, he figured why take chances.
Li’l Monk raised his gun, eye level, and placed the barrel against the door, while he pressed himself to the wall. “Who that?”
“Nigga, it’s me, Omega,” his friend called from the other side.
Li’l Monk cautiously looked through the peephole to confirm his identity before opening the door. “Fuck you knocking on my door for like the police?”
“Dawg, I’ve been trying to reach you for two hours,” Omega told him, inviting himself in. He had a worried expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Ramses needs to see us,” Omega told him in a nervous voice.
“About what? Did Chucky tell him what happened last night?”
“I don’t think so because he was asking me if I’d seen Chucky, because he can’t seem to reach him. Whatever it is, he’s pissed off and won’t talk about it on the phone. Get dressed and let’s go. You don’t keep a man like Ramses waiting for too long.”
Li’l Monk went into his bedroom and reappeared a few minutes later dressed in jeans, a hoodie, and boots. He and Omega left his building and jumped into a cab to go to the restaurant where Ramses had said to meet him. The whole ride Li’l Monk’s stomach was doing flip-flops, wondering what was going on. He worried that maybe he had gone too far with Chucky and Ramses could possibly be luring him to his death, but if Ramses wanted him dead he didn’t have to call him all downtown to make it happen. He could’ve had Li’l Monk murdered in his apartment with just a whisper in the right ear. So what was going on?
They got out of the
taxi on Fifty-eighth and Seventh Avenue in front of a fancy-looking steak house. The hostess took one look at Li’l Monk and Omega dressed in their street gear and turned her nose up. Her attitude quickly changed when they gave her the name of the party they were coming to meet. She showed to a table in the back, where Ramses and Huck sat waiting for them. Ramses was wearing a wrinkled shirt, and hadn’t shaved that day. His eyes were red and swollen like he had been crying. Next to him, Huck sat as still as the grave, watching Li’l Monk and Omega like a panther waiting to pounce. Something was definitely wrong.
“Do I have to tell you two idiots how much it irritates me to be kept waiting?” Ramses said in a way of a greeting.
“That was my fault, Ramses. I was asleep so it took Omega awhile to track me down,” Li’l Monk admitted. The answer seemed to appease Ramses, but he still looked angry.
“Sit down,” Ramses ordered. He waited until they were both seated before speaking again. “Have either of you seen Chucky?”
“Not since last night,” Omega said.
“And where did you see him last night?” Ramses asked. His tone of voice made them feel like they were being interrogated.
“Ramses, if this is about what happened downtown, I can explain,” Li’l Monk said.
Huck visibly tensed, and he reached for something inside his jacket, but Ramses stayed his hand with a gesture.
Ramses leaned forward and looked Li’l Monk in the eyes. “Then you best get to explaining.”
Li’l Monk went on to give him the short version of the two confrontations he had with Chucky the day before. When he was done with his tale, Ramses was giving him a very puzzled look.
“Li’l nigga, you think I called you down here about some pissing contest going on between you and Chucky?” Ramses asked.
“Well, yes,” Li’l Monk admitted.
“I should knock your head off for wasting five minutes of my life that I can’t get back. I don’t know what’s going on between you and Chucky, but you better get the shit straight because if it starts to affect my money, the both of you are going to find yourselves covered in dirt. We’re supposed to be a team and one of my lieutenants beefing with one of my protégés ain’t good for business. Work that shit out, understand?”