Trust in No Man

by Cash

“What?” Cita damned near screamed.

  “You heard me, shawdy. Bitch, don’t front. You know I ain’t lying.” I looked her in her scandalous-ass mug. “Don’t be disrespecting my homey.”

  “Whud up, bitch?” Murder Mike asked Cita. “You choosin’ while my head is turned?”

  “Naw! I ain’t did no—”

  Murder Mike slapped Cita’s lipstick crooked.

  “Get somewhere, bitch!” he barked.

  Cita started to stand there and try to lie her way out of it, but she knew Murder Mike would turn into Mike Tyson and beat her half to death. So she walked away crying and holding her hand over her lip.

  Murder Mike sat down at my table and I passed him the Alizé. He turned it up.

  An hour later, we left the club with two fly bitches. They weren’t hood, though. They were college girls, slumming it, thirsty for some thug passion, I guessed.

  I couldn’t even recall those hos name. I could recall that Murder Mike and me took them to the motel and made them fuck each other. Then we fucked them both, switchin’ up on them hos like tag team wrestlers. Of course we both wore jimmy hats. Shit, Murder Mike was my homey, but I wasn’t stickin’ my dick in his cum. And I was sure he felt the same about me.

  The two college girlies didn’t bar nothing, though. Big time freaks.

  Though she’d blown my pager up on the daily, I didn’t call Inez back or go by her crib ‘til a week later. When I finally went by her crib, I let myself in with the key she’d given me. I had the bitch eating out the palm of my hand.

  I made her suck my dick ‘til her jaws hurt, and I wouldn’t fuck her, not that day. Some real mack shit. I guess it was in my blood line. Mafuckaz always told me my pops was a dog nigga to a female before he got planted in dirt.

  I never knew my pops. He caught two slugs in the chest way back when I was still sucking on Ma Dukes titty. So the world couldn’t blame my pops for having a bad influence on me when it came down to how I treated females. Unless he passed his drag-a-bitch traits on to me through DNA.

  More likely, though, the streets influenced the way I dealt with bitches. I had seen their disloyalty and treachery up-close and personal, and I was convinced I couldn’t trust them as far as I could pick ‘em up and throw them. Therefore, I had little respect for the girls I came across and hooked up with.

  Inez had much a nigga could use in his corner, but she wasn’t wifey material, not in my eyes. So far, I hadn’t met one that I’d wife.

  Over the next few weeks, Inez did everything but rob and kill to get back in my good graces. Since she was being so generous and placating, I taxed her purse excessively. To cement my title as the nigga who was now holding Inez down, I took her to the clubs and other spots where most hustlers and playaz flossed.

  Street mafuckaz recognized Inez as Fat Stan’s lady and probably shook their heads at her disloyalty. Most were just hatin’, wishing they were knockin’ Inez’ ass outta socket while Fat Stan was away.

  Real niggaz knew and respected the rules of the game. Few niggaz could hold a bitch down from prison, especially one as fine and as game tight as Inez.

  The bitches who peeped us together knew the deally, too. Shit, most of them probably had a nigga doing time and another one holding them down in his absence, too. Any street nigga who didn’t understand that was in for a cold surprise when he blew trial and went to prison, as happened more often than not.

  Fat Stan was being introduced to the truth about a bitch’s loyalty, or lack of it, when a nigga was on lock.

  Inez let the answering machine deflect his calls instead of her refusing them, but it amounted to the same. She didn’t want to talk to him. If she accepted anymore of Fat Stan’s calls or wrote him letters, she did so when I wasn’t present, afraid to piss me off. I knew before long Inez would stop visiting him, too.

  Now that I look back on it, I realized that a street nigga had to train his girl to love him with her mind, not her body or heart. ‘Cause when he was on lock or just in the streets too much, another nigga could always penetrate his girl’s pussy or her emotions. But it was much harder for a nigga to erase what had been engraved in a bitch’s mind.

  Anyway, Fat Stan was assed out. Inez was now under my spell.

  CHAPTER 25

  Baby mamas always find a way to ‘cause drama and disruption in a nigga’s life when he didn’t fuck with them no more. Them hos thought having a nigga’s child gave them a lifetime claim on their baby’s daddy. At all times, they felt like a nigga owed them something. In that regard, Cheryl was no different from Shan and a whole world of bitches.

  My pager went off back to back to back to back, with the same number displaying across the pager’s tiny screen, along with this one-word message: EMERGENCY.

  I was already in the process of going to handle one emergency. My sister had called me crying, saying her man had beaten her up. I was on my way to her crib, packin’ heat, to see what the fuck was going down. Now Cheryl was paging me like crazy, as though something was seriously urgent. I was thinking something could be wrong with Eryka or the baby in Cheryl’s belly.

  I floored the gas pedal and made it to Toi’s crib without getting pulled over for speeding.

  Toi opened the door as soon as I knocked, and the first thing that greeted me was her eye! Her shit was swollen shut, already black and blue.

  “Where that bitch nigga at?” I snapped. My sister’s whole right side of her face was swollen. She hugged me and started crying.

  “You might need to go to the hospital,” I told Toi. “Put some ice on your eye and stop crying. I need to call Cheryl right quick.”

  I was fuming.

  “Hello?” Cheryl answered the phone.

  “What’s the emergency? Is Eryka all right?” I didn’t have time for Cheryl’s usual babbling.

  “You need to come and get us.”

  “Look, Cheryl, I’m in the middle of something. Is something wrong with my daughter or the baby you’re carrying? If not, I’ll call you later.”

  “Dag. You act like we don’t matter.” I could hear Cheryl crying. “If you can’t come and get us now, I don’t know where we’ll be later. We ain’t got nowhere to go!” Sniffling.

  “Cheryl, what the fuck is you talkin’ ‘bout?” My patience was zero. Why had I planted, not one, but two seeds in this dingy-ass bitch?

  “Mama is putting us out,” Cheryl cried. “She talkin’ ‘bout we crowding her space and she want me out of her house tonight.” She started crying harder.

  “Put your mama on the phone!”

  Cheryl’s dirty-ass Ma Dukes had the nerve to get on the phone with a funky attitude. I didn’t even ask her what the problem was. I could tell by her nasty tone she’d already made up her mind that Cheryl, Eryka, and the baby Cheryl was carrying had to get out. I knew it more than likely had to do with Cheryl letting her mom’s house go filthy and not picking up after Eryka. Still, what type of parent would put their own pregnant daughter and their only grandchild out on the street?

  I said acidly, “Just let them stay there until I finish handling some business. I’ll be by to get them in an hour or two.”

  “You better hurry up!” Click.

  I didn’t bother calling back.

  Toi was in her bedroom laying on the bed, crying. She hadn’t put any ice to her face and it was swelling more by the minute. I told her she needed to go to the hospital, something might be broken.

  “What happened?” I asked. What reason had that bitch nigga, Glen, have for putting his mafuckin’ hands on her?

  Toi just cried. I couldn’t get her to tell me what had gone down.

  What was she hiding? Why was she protecting Glen? She had already told me he’d jumped on her. Why wouldn’t she tell me the cause?

  The sound of the doorbell distracted my thoughts.

  I’d gone to the front door, gat in hand, thinking it might be that fuckin’ nigga, Glen. When I saw that it wasn’t, I’d put my gat in my waistband, under my shirt and opened th
e door. I’d looked at my mom’s like I hadn’t been expecting her. She’d returned the look with the exact same stare. I didn’t even acknowledge her husband’s presence. I just told Ma Dukes Toi was in the bedroom.

  Ma Duke saw Toi’s battered face and immediately went to the phone to call the police. Toi damn near tackled her.

  “I’ll go to the hospital, but don’t call the police,” she said.

  Ma Dukes insisted on calling the police, but Toi wasn’t having none of that. I interjected my opinion, which was that we do what Toi wanted.

  As Ma Duke and Raymond drove my sister to the emergency room, I trailed behind their car, mad as a mafucka. I wanted to find Glen and bust lead in his ass.

  My sister was admitted into the hospital, suffering from a fractured cheekbone. Glen must’ve punched her like he would punch another man. I damn near had tears in my eyes. That fuck nigga was gonna pay for beating my peeps.

  A policeman showed up at the emergency room to question Toi.

  She refused to drop dime on Glen, which led to my mother telling the police who had jumped on her daughter. Ever since OJ had killed his bitch and got away with it, po-po was hard on domestic violence.

  The policeman questioned Toi relentlessly, to no avail. Finally, the doctor told po-po to stop bothering Toi. She was in pain and under medication.

  Ma Dukes didn’t know jack about Glen, other than his first name. And I didn’t have no rap for po-po, regardless to the situation. Besides, I had forgot to leave my heater in the whip. I was just hoping po-po didn’t notice the bulge under my shirt.

  When Toi was taken to a room and given more pain medication, I waited until she had fallen asleep, then I dipped. Ma Duke and Raymond stayed.

  It was close to midnight when I picked Cheryl and Eryka up from Cheryl’s mother’s house. Their clothes were packed in suitcases and bags. Eryka’s crib, playpen and all their things were sitting by the front door when I walked in. I gave Cheryl’s mother a look that could kill.

  But the bitch just turned her head away. I didn’t say a word to Cheryl. I just started loading the things in my truck. Whatever couldn’t fit, I told Cheryl’s mother I’d be back for another day.

  My daughter was asleep across my shoulder as I carried her to my truck.

  But before I left, I called Cheryl’s mother a dirty, lowdown bitch.

  “If I’m a bitch, I’m a good one,” she shot back. Her comment surprised the fuck out of me. Still, I let it bounce off of my back.

  While driving, I didn’t bother to ask Cheryl if she had somewhere to go now that she’d been kicked out.

  Who wanted a fat, lazy, pregnant teenager, who already had one baby and no job living with them?

  I popped in a Mary J. Blige CD, something mellow so I wouldn’t wake Eryka and hoped Mary J’s singing would discourage Cheryl from talking.

  Over Mary J’s lyrics, Cheryl suggested I take her and Eryka to a motel that had cheap weekly rates. I knew she was just frontin’.

  The bitch knew that I’d never allow her to take Eryka to live in a cheap motel room, not even for a few days. Cheryl just wanted to front like she didn’t need me.

  I ignored her and drove on to my crib. Once there, I unloaded the truck and took Cheryl’s and my daughter’s things inside of my apartment. No kids were allowed to live in the apartments, but I knew the apartment manager would look the other way for a coupla C-notes.

  In the meantime, I laid down some rules Cheryl would have to follow: First and foremost, she would have to keep the place clean, no excuses! We weren’t back together and I wasn’t fucking her. She had no say as to where I went or when I returned. She could not have any company over. And she shouldn’t expect to live with me permanently. She needed to call and make up with her bitch-ass mother soon or come up with some other plan. And she could use the Nissan to go to doctor’s appointments and the store. That was it!

  I didn’t know she had dropped out of school ‘til that night.

  Damn!

  I was already a dropout, so was Shan. I’d thought Cheryl would at least be different than Shan and the hood rats from around my way.

  I set Cheryl up in the bedroom that Lil’ T slept in when he came over and me and Eryka slept on the couch in the living room.

  I definitely didn’t like the situation, but I’d use it to bond closer with my baby girl. And I was determined not to let Cheryl milk the situation for months. In the meantime, I could always bounce and go stay at Inez’ crib when Cheryl’s presence agitated me.

  Inez understood the situation when I told her how it went down the next morning. Not that she had any other choice but to accept it. I was holding her down, not the other way around.

  She hooked me up some French toast and eggs before I dipped to the hospital to check on my sister.

  Ma Dukes was there with Toi when I got there. She spoke to me awkwardly. I nodded, walked past where Ma Dukes was sitting and went over to the bed and kissed Toi on the forehead.

  I didn’t ask her any stupid shit, like how was she feeling or tell her a lie that she looked better than she had the night before. Her mug was fucked up, wasn’t no way to sugarcoat that, so I said nothing.

  Anyway, Toi was drugged up and half asleep and might not have understood me had I said something.

  Seeing my peeps like that had my blood boiling, murder on my mind! I didn’t know what made Toi’s nigga beat her down like that, but his fuckin’ ass was gonna pay whenever I caught up with him.

  Toi might’ve been his woman, but she was my fam’. Wasn’t no way I was going for a nigga putting my peeps in the hospital. Toi could protect that bitch nigga from the police, but she’d never be able to protect him from me.

  I’d seen a few niggaz beat on my mom’s while growing up, wasn’t no way I was letting a nigga beat on my sister. It was like Glen was disrespecting me, too. Like he was saying I was pussy, he could beat my peeps to a pulp and I wouldn’t straighten it.

  Fuck dat.

  I was one young’n old heads had to respect on all levels or they’d got found with their heads in their lap, especially about my sister. I had peeped some shit at Toi’s crib that gave me a clue to Glen’s steelo. I understood the nigga now. Why he kept my sis’ on locks and didn’t want me to come by her crib.

  I would rap with Toi about that later.

  As for Glen, I had a clip full of hollow points with his name on them.

  I looked around the hospital room. A mirror on the wall was covered with a towel. The same deally when I went in the bathroom. I asked my moms what the deal was on that? She told me the nurses had covered the mirrors so Toi wouldn’t look in the mirror and see her own swollen face.

  Ma Duke then started crying, maybe recalling going through similar drama herself.

  She put her hand on my arm when I sat in the chair next to hers. “Terrence,” she said, almost whimpering, “no matter what you may think, I love you and Toi.”

  I didn’t say shit.

  “If you had been right, and Raymond was wrong, I never would’ve taken his side,” she continued. “I chose the side of right over wrong. Not Raymond over you. Let’s—”

  “Save it, Ma! It don’t matter, you still let a man come between us,” I interrupted. “You made your choice. I don’t wanna talk about it.” I stood up and walked out of the room.

  After I left the hospital that evening, I went to the hood and copped a fifty-dollar sack of raw. I hadn’t snorted cocaine in a long time, like way back before I went to prison to serve that nickel, but the stress and anger had me wanting something more than weed.

  Murder Mike said, “Nigga, you fuckin’ wit’ dat raw now, huh?” He took the fifty-dollar bill and handed me a small plastic bag of powder.

  “Naw, playa,” I lied. “I got a freak bitch at the hotel, she like the raw damn near more than she like the dick.”

  “Word?”

  “Word, dawg.”

  I stopped at the crib to check on Cheryl and Eryka. To my surprise the crib was in order. I
played with my lil’ girl for a while and jetted over to Inez’.

  I let myself in but Inez wasn’t home. So I sat down on the sofa and laid out the cocaine on top of the coffee table. I was gettin’ rawed, thinking about Toi, Ma Dukes and the situation with Cheryl.

  The cocaine had me contemplating some Eminem shit, thinking about killing Cheryl, after she had the baby. Fuck it. I’d raise my seeds myself.

  I had to be rawed up, ‘cause that was some ill shit to even contemplate. I hadn’t needed to snort cocaine to contemplate killing that bitch nigga, Glen, though. That thought was foremost on my mind.

  Inez came home while I was snorting the last line. Walked right in on me.

  “Whud up?” I said.

  “Hey,” Inez greeted me, looking fly as usual. She looked down at the cocaine residue on the coffee table.

  “What you doing?”

  “Gettin’ my snort on, a little.” Fuck it.

  “Hmmpff. I didn’t know you get rawed.” She sat down next to me.

  “You got a problem with it?” I challenged.

  “Not as long as it ain’t a habit.”

  “Naw, shawdy, it ain’t no habit. Shit just stressin’ a nigga out.” Inez stood up and straddled my legs, her arms went around my neck. “What’s wrong, baby? You wanna talk about it?” So we did.

  I was animated and crunk like a mafucka when telling Inez what that nigga, Glen, had did to my sister’s face. She could tell I was wired and thirsty for blood.

  Inez didn’t interrupt me, she just listened and watched while I animatedly moved around her living room, arms gesturing. Finally, my adrenaline returned to normal and I sat back down on the sofa and explained the beef I had with my Ma Dukes and why I still couldn’t forgive her. I didn’t have to recount my problems with my baby mamas, Inez already knew those stories.

  Later that night, we were lying in bed. I had just dicked Inez down.

  “I wanna ask you something, Youngblood,” Inez said as if the question had been on her tongue for a while.

  “Spit it out, shawdy.”

  “Have you ever beat up one of your girlfriends?”

  I thought about that for a minute. Growing up I had seen men bounce knuckles off of Ma Dukes chin, so I wasn’t trying to be no woman beater. On the other hand, I knew that street niggaz sometimes had to chin check their bitch, ‘cause we fucked with street bitches who’d run over a nigga if he didn’t tap them on the head when they violated. Still, it was more my style to just put a bitch on timeout than to be WWF wrestling with a hard-headed ho all the time.