Trust in No Man

by Cash

  Inside Poochie’s crib, it looked like she had sold everything, but the rug. Damn, I hated to see her fucked up on crack like that.

  I pulled out a stack, peeled of six twenty dollar bills, gave them to Poochie and hugged her.

  “You want a blow job,” she offered.

  “Naw, Poochie. You ain’t gotta do that. You’re my son’s grandmother,” I declined.

  “You still got a sweet young dick?” I just laughed and shook my head. Poochie said, “You need to take Shan’s ass to court if she won’t let you see your son.”

  I let Poochie’s advice slide down my back. Gangsters didn’t go to the court for help.

  “I’ma catch up with you later.” I turned and walked out of the door.

  Outside, I got in the rental car and drove to the hotel where I had rented a room for the weekend. It was a plush room in the downtown area.

  The receptionist on duty stopped me as I strolled through the lobby. I showed the white bitch my room key, told her I was in the music industry and let her see the back of my ass as I walked toward the glass elevator.

  In my room, I sat my bags of gear on the bed, reached inside one of the bags and pulled out three jewelry boxes. I had bought some shine for my neck, a heavy platinum chain and some weight for my wrist. The bracelet was bling-blinging. The third jewelry box was a nice friendship ring for Brenda.

  I had gotten to know Brenda pretty well through letters, phone calls and a few visits while I was on lock. She had showed a young nigga love when I was in the joint when Shan had got ghost. I hadn’t called Brenda since I bounced from the pen but I hadn’t forgot that she sent me loot and accepted my calls from prison when nobody else would. Well, nobody besides Lonnie and Toi.

  I picked up the phone and dialed Brenda’s number. It had just turned dark outside my hotel window.

  “Hello?”

  “Whud up, old lady?” I joked.

  “Who is this?”

  “The realest young nigga you know,” I boasted.

  “Terrence? Youngblood?” Brenda sounded excited.

  “The one and only.”

  “Your ass has been home from prison! Why’re you just now calling me?” She was no longer excited.

  “I had to build my weight up, get some loot before I dialed you up.”

  “Yo ass going back to prison trying to build your weight up,” she mocked, but I heard the excitement return to her voice.

  “Can I take you out tonight?” I asked, trying to sound smooth.

  “I don’t know,” hesitated Brenda. “Where are we going?” I told her my plans and she said she’d be dressed and ready in a couple of hours.

  I didn’t want to push the rental car. This was an occasion for style, so I splurged and rented a Range Rover limo for the night.

  When Brenda stepped out of her door, she freaked out. She was too experienced to say anything to reveal her shock, but I saw it in those big brown eyes of hers.

  I had told her to dress casual ‘cause I was in baggy jeans, Fubu football jersey and Timberlands—casual, but blinging and thugged out.

  Brenda was rockin’ a leather dress that fit her fine ass like second skin. I had a dime on my arm that night.

  We went to Red Lobster, ordered seafood, wine and some dessert. After we finished eating, I gave Brenda the friendship ring and said, “I’ll never forget how you showed a nigga love when you didn’t owe me shit.” “Aww, thank you, lil’ daddy,” she named as she slid the diamond onto her finger. Then, she leaned over and gave a nigga mad tongue.

  A short while later, we left Red Lobster and hit a few nightclubs, finally settling on a spot out in Buckhead where they had a live jazz band. It wasn’t my style, I was a rap head but Brenda was good, so I was good. I wasn’t the type of nigga who had to talk a lot on a date. Shit, I had never been on a real date no way.

  So I just listened to the band and let Brenda lead the flow. “I’m really feeling you. You carry yourself like a real man,” she complimented.

  “What else were you expecting, with your sexy ass?” I leaned over and stroked her face.

  “Don’t get yourself in trouble.”

  “Nah, don’t you get yourself in trouble. I’m just coming home from lock up. You can’t handle this.” I took her hand and guided it under the table.

  “Damn!” Her eyes got buck when she felt my steel.

  “You wanna go back to the hotel?”

  “That sounds good to me. But it don’t mean you gettin’ the pussy, though,” she warned, half-heartedly.

  Of course, I was gettin’ the pussy, even if I had to stay up all night seducing her. I was long overdue and the wine, Brenda’s perfume and her sex appeal had my dick harder than prison bars.

  At the hotel, again she was surprised to see that a young nigga was camped at a plush spot. Once I talked Brenda into the Jacuzzi, the rest had already been written.

  Her shit was bangin’! Shawdy could work her pussy like a pair of hands.

  I tried to get her to give me some head, but she politely said, “We’ll save that for another day.”

  “Like when?” I damn near begged.

  “I’ll surprise you,” Brenda cooed. Then she put one of her legs behind her neck and said, “Fuck me like this. You can get all the pussy this way.”

  That pussy looked so pretty, wide-open like that. I wanted to tell her to hold that pose while I jacked off. Instead, I got all the pussy, just like she promised I could in that position.

  When I woke up in the morning I got my surprise. Brenda’s head was that fi’! Just like the pussy. I had to grab a pillow and bite it to keep from screaming her name.

  The rest of that weekend we fucked, sucked and ordered room service. We had to shower damn near four times a day and we managed to squeeze in a few hours of conversation when we weren’t bent into pretzels. Brenda did most of the talking, and we didn’t talk about any real serious shit, just everyday conversation. We didn’t make each other any promises, either. Brenda said she knew I was just getting out of prison so she wasn’t gonna crowd me.

  “Just don’t be a stranger. And be careful, whatever you’re doing,” Brenda warned when I dropped her off at her crib early Monday morning.

  We kissed and I told her I’d call her in a few days. I slid her some funds to send to her brother who was still in prison. She accepted the loot for him, but she wouldn’t accept the money I offered to her.

  “You don’t owe me nothing,” she said sweetly. I stuffed the bills back in my pocket and said, “Whatever, shawdy.” I kissed her again and asked her if she still thought I was a baby.

  “Naw, nigga. You’re all man!”

  She then exited my ride and I watched her fine ass run up the stairs to her crib.

  CHAPTER 10

  I had paid for the rental car for a week so I still had four days before I had to return it.

  It was like 10 a.m. and the streets weren’t really poppin’ yet, unless I rolled to the hood. But the hood wasn’t really on my mind. I was thinking: I gotta find a steady hustle because my bank was getting thin, or I need to hit a lick. A big one.

  Everything was good at Lonnie’s crib. I was welcomed to stay for eternity, but I don’t roll like that. I wasn’t trying to crowd my dawg forever. I needed a spot of my own and some wheels.

  But my stash wasn’t strong enough to cop all that.

  The other shit on my mind was my fam’, Ma Duke and Toi.

  My sister understood a nigga, but she had to play by Ma Duke’s rules ‘cause she was under Ma Duke’s roof. It was actually my stepfather’s crib, but I tried not to mention that buster’s name, if I could help it.

  Now, I hadn’t talked to Ma Duke and Toi in a while, they probably didn’t know that I was out of prison. It wasn’t because I didn’t love my mom, I did. But I had mad anger for her ‘cause she chose her husband over me, her son. A mother ain’t supposed to let nobody dis her kids. Nobody! She was supposed to tell Raymond that if I wasn’t welcomed she wasn’t either.


  Then, Ma Duke, Toi and me would’ve left G.I. Joe in his mafuckin’ house all by his lonesome. Ma Duke should’ve represented just like that, but she didn’t. It was like she had said fuck me.

  My reservations about seeing her were pushed aside ‘cause I did wanna see my sister. Besides, I also wanted Ma Duke to see me looking good, then she’d know I didn’t need no fuckin’ body.

  At age twenty-one, Toi was now a lady and she looked like one.

  She hugged me tight as a mafucka and I saw tears in her eyes. I was her only brother, her love was real for me. I even let her talk me out of the new shine on my neck. But I could always hit a lick and buy another necklace. Besides, it was worth that big ass smile on Toi’s face.

  Ma Duke hugged me and then looked at me like she wanted to ask, Who you done robbed?

  Raymond was at work, so I stayed for about an hour and then jetted. Wasn’t shit to talk about.

  I left there wanting to cry because deep down I missed the closeness we shared before she let a muthafuckin nigga come between us.

  A few minutes later, my hurt turned to anger. I needed something or somebody to release my rage on.

  I started to go find Shotgun Pete and pump mad holes in his ass! But that was just my temper hyping me up to do some dumb shit.

  I checked my thoughts and drove aimlessly around the city until I had my mind together. I ended up in the hood, Englewood. Those projects accepted me win, lose or draw.

  I saw mafuckaz I hadn’t seen since I got back on the turf. Most mafuckaz was doing the same shit they’d been doing five years ago when I got knocked. Some were doing worse. Little girls were now fine ass teenagers, with mad ass and titties and attitude like they had the only pussy in the South. Lil’ niggaz had grown up and was now pushing they own whips and checkin’ paper.

  Seeing them mafuckaz, all grown up and shit, made me feel old. And I was still a young nigga. I realized then that hustlers were getting younger and younger in the hood.

  A few of us sat around an old car and puffed chronic and sipped Henny. I was higher than gas prices.

  I bought a dinner from the Ribs Lady who lived in Englewood, right behind the dope trap, clockin’ crazy loot by selling the best damn ribs right out her back door. The neighborhood dope boys was her most loyal and frequent customers, they bought barbeque ribs from her by the slab. But people came from all over to buy dinners from her.

  She’d been selling those dinners since I was a little boy. Her fat ass had to be rich by now or at least well-paid. I figured she hadn’t moved out of the ghetto ‘cause it paid too well. Everybody in the hood protected her from would-be robbers ‘cause her food was so mafuckin’ good they didn’t want anybody to chase her out the neighborhood.

  I bought two rib dinners and a cold ass forty ounce. A barbeque dinner consisted of six to eight bones, baked beans, coleslaw, collard greens, two cornbread muffins and a piece of chocolate cake. The shit was so good it made my dick hard. And the barbeque sauce was the shit.

  I drove up the hill to Poochie’s spot. Poochie was glad to see me and thanked me for the dinner I bought for her. I sat on the couch in her empty ass living room eating my rib dinner with my fingers while Poochie just picked over hers. She told me how happy my son was when she gave him the gear I’d left with Poochie’s neighbor.

  “I kept his bad ass for Shan last night,” Poochie told me. “She just came and got him a few hours ago.”

  Damn! I wanted to see my son.

  I really didn’t hear shit else Poochie was saying. I was wrestling with my temper. It was telling me to go blast Shan and Shotgun Pete, take my son and hit the highways.

  I calmed myself again. I fired up a blunt and offered Poochie a toke. She shook her head. I looked at her like I couldn’t believe she refused a free high. I was thinking maybe weed wasn’t potent enough for a crackhead.

  After I had smoked the whole blunt and chilled on the couch, doing nothing but thinking, Poochie started looking good as hell. I had to be fucked up, ‘cause I swear Poochie looked like Toni Braxton!

  Before I got high, she hadn’t looked so good.

  “Come sit on my lap,” I said, lips dry as sheetrock.

  “What?” Poochie said, caught off-guard. I repeated what I’d just said and Poochie came to me.

  I hate to admit it, but I was so high I tongued her like she really was Toni Braxton. Yeah, I know Poochie is a base head and probably done sucked mad dicks. I went out bad.

  But I blamed it on the weed and all the other shit that was circling in my head besides the chronic smoke. But on the real, Poochie still had some good ass pussy. I didn’t just fuck her and jet out. I stayed all-night and hit that good pussy again and again. The pussy was so dope I was damn near hoping Poochie got pregnant.

  I fell asleep on the couch wondering what the fuck them niggaz had put in that blunt. If I dreamed that night, I don’t recall it. I do recall waking up the next morning with a piss hard-on.

  I reached for Poochie, but she wasn’t on the couch with me. I wanted some of her fi’ head while my dick was like steel. So I walked around the sparsely furnished apartment looking for her, stumbling and calling her name.

  I was butt-naked like a baby with a big dick. Poochie didn’t answer and she wasn’t in any of the rooms. I accepted the fact that I’d have to piss my hard-on off.

  After pissing, washing my hands and splashing water on my face, I came out the bathroom and went back in the living room to put my clothes on. My neck and wrist felt naked.

  That bitch creeped my shit! Reaching up I felt for my chain but it wasn’t around my neck. Glancing down at my wrist, I saw that my bracelet wasn’t there. I was close to panicking until I reached the living room and found my jewelry bling-blingin’ on the floor next to the couch. I had taken it off last night during a break from fucking Poochie. I was surprised Poochie hadn’t stolen it and run down the hill to trade it for some crack.

  My money!

  I reached in my pants pocket and pulled out my roll of bills, all the money I had to my name. A quick count and I was sure Poochie hadn’t stolen no more than fifty or sixty dollar, but the rental car keys were missing and so was the car when I looked out of the window.

  Before I could close the curtain, I saw Poochie drive up in the rental. She came into the apartment with two bags of groceries.

  “You thought I had stolen that rental car, didn’t you?” she asked.

  “Naw,” I lied. I followed Poochie into the kitchen and watched as she put the groceries inside of the refrigerator.

  “I got seventy dollars out your pants pocket. I’ll pay you back when my check comes if you want me to,” Poochie explained with her back to me.

  “You don’t have to pay it back, I’m straight.” After a pause, I added, “I ain’t gon’ lie, though, I thought yo ass had clipped me for my whole knot and went to buy some rocks.”

  Poochie laughed. “I wouldn’t do you like that. I’ma quit fuckin’ with that shit anyway. Get myself together and move away from these projects.” She turned to face me. “You want me to cook you some breakfast?”

  “Hell no! You might start thinking I’m your man.” We both laughed like hell. Then somebody began knocking on the front door.

  “Answer the door,” Poochie said, like I lived there or something.

  When I opened the door Shan and my son was standing there.

  Shan said, with an attitude full of suspicion, “What you doing over here? Where my mama at?” Not waiting for me to answer either question, she dragged my son by the arm, right past me and came inside of the apartment calling out for Poochie.

  It smelled like y’all been fuckin’ in here!” The bitch said it just like that, in front of my son. A real project bitch!

  Poochie found some baby powder and sprayed it up in the air in the living room, trying to freshen up the funk. She lied, telling Shan I had just got there. But I could see in Shan’s eyes she didn’t believe it.

  She was sweating me like mad.

 
“Why your braids all loose and fucked up?” I ignored her ass.

  I didn’t owe that ho any explanation. I was tempted to admit I had fucked her mama last night, but I didn’t wanna put Poochie at beef with her daughter. I had never admitted to fuckin’ Poochie before I went to prison, but I knew Shan had found out somehow. Probably Poochie had blurted it out in one of her crack induced tirades. But I could stick to a lie forever.

  Shan was cussing, accusing and telling Poochie she should be ashamed of herself for screwing me, the father of Poochie’s grandson, who didn’t know what the fuck was going down. My little soldier didn’t even know who I was anymore. Shan kept accusing. Poochie kept denying, more like lying.

  I kneeled down, face to face with little Terrence Junior. He was sporting some of the gear I had bought him. I was prouder than a mafucka, looking at a little me. He was almost six years old. I told him who I was and he looked at me like I was lying.

  Poochie said, “Lil’ T, hug your daddy’s neck.” He did, too.

  My junior and I left Shan and Poochie arguing. Shan acted like she didn’t want me to take Lil’ T nowhere, but she could see that he wanted to go with me. She also knew I would’ve kicked her ass for old and new if she would’ve tried to trip. I couldn’t believe that bitch had the mafuckin’ nerve to say to me, “Don’t take my son around none of your bitches!”

  If my eyes were an AK-47, that bitch would’ve been dead as I spoke. That bitch was ‘bout to poot out a baby any minute by a nigga that was supposed to be my partner in crime, and she got the nerve to try to regulate who I took our son around? The ho must’ve wanted me to punch her in her goddamn face. But like Eminem said Temper, temper!

  I checked mine.

  It wasn’t easy to not snap on Shan. I mean, she had got ghost on me while I was serving the five-year bid. And she had kept my son away. I had every right to bust her ass up. The bitch just wasn’t worth it.

  She was telling me to have Lil’ T back at Poochie’s spot before dark. Like my son would have turned into a vampire after dark or something. I just flipped the bitch off. Her ass would be lucky if I ever brought him back.