She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 2

by Shvonne Latrice

  “I agree. My apologies. And nah, that’s not something I would want my future wife doing. I’d be hot as hell.” I thought of Amara fucking some nigga. “Especially if the dude she smashed liked her as much as I like you.”

  “I’m done, babe.” Phoebe walked up, making me close my eyes because I’d totally forgotten I was here with her. “Who is this?” She looked to Shanece.

  “I’m Shanece. Who are you?” Shanece’s eyes darted between Phoebe and me, and I could tell she was dumbfounded.

  “Everything okay?” Camarih came around the corner. I knew her ass was eavesdropping the whole time.

  “Yes, boo. Everything is okay. I was just wondering who baby girl was in my man’s face.” Phoebe gave a fake smile.

  “First of all, I’m not your boo.” Camarih fake smiled right back. I couldn’t quite pinpoint Camarih. She was nice as hell, innocent almost, but then she was crazy. She oozed sex appeal, but it was almost like it was on accident or effortless.

  It was like God started making her one way, but then said fuck it and switched it up halfway through.

  “You need to relax beca—” Phoebe started toward Camarih, but I blocked her.

  “Because what?” Camarih approached, but Shanece had copied me, keeping her friend at bay.

  “Aight, ladies. Let’s chill. Phoebe, this is Shanece, a friend, and then Camarih; she’s Wacko’s girl.”

  “Whatever. Let’s hurry up and pay for my shit, Rah.” Phoebe turned on her heels and switched off to get in line.

  “Girlfriend, huh?” Shanece shook her head.

  “She is not my girlfriend, Shanece, I told you I was si—Shanece!” I shouted her name as she and Camarih walked off.

  Camarih looked over her shoulder at me, squinting her eyes evilly. Shit was low-key scary, so I turned my ass around and went to get in line with Phoebe.

  “Hello, find everything you needed today?” the white girl with some loud ass colored lipstick, quizzed.

  “Just hurry up please.” Phoebe dropped a basket full of shit onto the counter.

  I apologized to the girl who nodded as she began scanning everything. It came to $450, catching me off guard.

  “All that for some fucking makeup?” I frowned at the cashier.

  “Well this perfume was a hundred dollars, this mask is seventy, and—”

  “Damn, aight.” I inserted my card as I looked to my right at Phoebe who was eyeing her nails with a raised brow like she had an attitude.

  “Have a good one.” The employee handed me my receipt, so Phoebe and I bounced.

  Once we got in the car, Phoebe inquired, “That golden haired one is Wacko’s girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Never heard of that nigga having a girlfriend. Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “If anything, Joy would be his girlfriend. She’s been his longest running dummy,” Phoebe ran off like she knew Tony so damn well.

  “Yeah, well, she ain’t. Camarih is his girl, and I know that as a fact. I hang with the nigga almost every damn day.”

  Phoebe ain’t say shit to me for the rest of the ride to my spot, so once we got inside, I decided to speak up.

  “Phoebe. Really? What you mad for?”

  “Who was that hoe?”

  “What hoe?”

  “Shantell, or whatever her damn name was!”

  “Shanece, and I told you she was a friend.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes, damn!” I frowned, plopping down onto my couch.

  “Okay then. What were y’all talking about? And why did it need to be off in secrecy?”

  “How was it in secrecy when we were in a crowded ass makeup store?” I let my brows dip as I looked up at a pacing Phoebe.

  “Because y’all we’re off to the side. Now answer me. What did you and your friend discuss?”

  “Basic shit, Phoebe. How she was doing and—”

  “Nigga, I’m not gon’ ask you again.”

  And this was exactly why I ain’t fuck with ghetto females or females that grew up in the hood. They stayed wanting to fight and act a fucking fool, even the nice ones like Tony’s girl. I liked women like my wife: poised, classy, and not psycho.

  “I was asking her about an artist she had worked with, seeing if she could plug me with him so that I can maybe make some beats for him,” I lied coolly.

  “Why you couldn’t just say that?”

  “Because I don’t like asking for help. It’s bad enough I’m doing it, but I ain’t trying to tell the whole world.”

  Sitting next to me, Phoebe sighed.

  “I get it, and I apologize. Our reservation is in two hours, so I’m gonna go shower and dress.” Lifting my chin with her finger, she added, “And I swear I’m going to make up for how I just acted.” Phoebe pecked me very slowly, sending shockwaves through my dick.

  “Better.” I patted her on the ass as she got up.

  I let my head fall back on the couch, trying to relax. The fact that Shanece saw Phoebe and I together bothered me. I didn’t know why since she would never become my girl, but it gave me a bad feeling in my stomach. For some reason, I wanted some type of relationship with this girl, even if it was just friendship.

  My phone rang as I started to doze off, so I cursed under my breath as I pulled my iPhone from my pocket. I saw Amara’s name and hesitated on answering. I just wasn’t in a good mood, and I couldn’t exactly vent to her like I usually did because of the subject matter.

  “Hey, wifey.” I smiled, eyes closed, as my head rested on the back of the couch.

  “Rahim, you spent one thousand eighty-eight dollars at Saks Fifth Avenue, and then four hundred fifty-three dollars at Sephora? You better have a good ass explanation, and I wanna hear it right fucking now.”

  “Baby, relax. I had to get some shirts from Saks and—”

  “For a rack?”

  “I know it’s a lot, but I got an image to uphold.”

  I’d started working on my lie back at the mall so I’d have this shit figured out. I remembered Amara mentioning how men were horrible liars because they always lied on the spot, whereas women thought their shit out, tested it on homegirls, and had it down pat by the time they had to tell it to their man.

  “Next time you need to let me know beforehand. You may be in Vegas alone, Rahim, but you are still married. You cannot just spend our money without consulting me. I don’t care what it’s for.”

  “You’re right, baby, and I apologize.”

  “And Sephora? What the hell did you need from there?”

  “Cologne, and some shit for my skin so ya man can be smelling good and looking good when I’m out in these streets.”

  Amara chuckled.

  “You had me thinking you were buying other things, and not for yourself.”

  “Then for who? I don’t like Tony and Eitan that much.”

  Laughing, she responded, “No, like another woman.”

  “Amara.”

  “I know, I know. I’m sorry for even thinking it. I guess being away from you has me thinking wild shit.”

  “Wild as hell, woman.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I love you, Amara, nobody else. I never could.” I was being honest for the first time in a while.

  “I love you too, Rahim, as long as you stop making these crazy unexpected purchases.”

  “I will.” I chortled. “Plus, soon enough, I’m gon’ be breaking you off with so much bread it’s gon’ be crazy.”

  “Soon as you get that first big check, throw me a Birkin, and I will forget all about this.”

  We both cackled at her comment.

  Every time I chopped it up with my wife, I felt like shit for fucking around. She was perfect. The type of woman niggas posted about not being able to find no more on social media. I had her, yet look what I was doing, and with females like Phoebe.

  For the next hour, I talked with my wife, until I had to get dressed for dinner with Phoebe.

/>   Yeah, I loved Amara, but at the moment, I had needs that only Phoebe could help me with.

  Tony Wacko

  “Shit sounds good as hell.” I nodded, listening to Nala sing. This was her own shit, and a nigga was happy as fuck to see she could pull something off on her own.

  “I knew this one would suit her vocals.” Rahim verbally patted himself on the back as Nala finished out the song.

  “You can come out.” I pressed the button so she would hear me inside of the booth, as Abel focused on the computer and editing the tracks.

  “How was it?” She smiled widely, tossing her hair. She wore this little ass dress like always and had all the niggas in here watching her walk to me.

  “Good. Finally.” I ashed the blunt in my hand.

  “So rude.” She got ready to sit in my lap, but I stopped her.

  “You know I’m back with my girl. Chill out with that shit.” I made sure to give her eye contact as I turned the music up for everybody to listen to, while they drank and smoked.

  “Yeah, but she’s not even here.” Nala shrugged.

  “It don’t fucking matter. I told you what this shit was when you first sucked my dick. Keep up with the bullshit and you gon’ be scooping ya teeth up from the muthafuckin’ floor.”

  Rolling her eyes, Nala sat in the chair next to me at the mixer. I hated how fucking attached her ass was, not even caring that she had a whole ass nigga she lived with and a damn baby. If she ever thought she was gon’ be my bitch, even my side bitch, she was out of her fucking head.

  For the next two hours, everybody in the studio got more lit than they already were. Two hoes even decided to do some strip tease shit, after Cornell lowered the lights and suggested the shit. “Light it Up” by Marshmello was playing as they began twerking in their thongs.

  “You annoying,” Nala commented.

  “Fuck you talking about?” I took down some of the Hennessy from my bottle.

  “Grinning at them hoes. They’re stiff as fuck.”

  “Jealous ass. Worry about yo’ cone-head ass baby daddy. I got a bitch to clock my moves already.”

  “They wild as fuck.” Abel shook his head, laughing and filming.

  “Aye, what the fuck! Cut the music off!” I barked, almost choking on my liquor. “One of them bitches’ ass crumbs hit my arm!” I ain’t know if I was just cross faded out the ass or what, but I felt some shit hit my forearm, and I swore it came from one them hoes’ asses. “Get the fuck out!” I got up, cutting the lights on and gripping both them half naked hoes up by their hair.

  “Oh my gosh!” They screamed in unison as everybody else found the shit funny. I dragged them hoes down the hallway and tossed them the fuck out, while Cornell brought them their bottoms to put back on.

  “Ass crumbs?” Eitan died laughing when I came back to the studio room.

  “Yeah nigga. Nasty ass muthafuckas who don’t wipe good got that shit.” I surveyed my arms to see if anything else was on me. “Aye, we wrapping this shit the fuck up. Cornell stop bringing hoes that shit in the woods and wipe their asses with leaves to my fucking studio, nigga.” I frowned when he came back in laughing.

  “Where you going?” Nala rushed after me.

  “Abel, give me a ride, my nigga.” I ignored her and continued out as everyone followed so I could lock my shit up.

  “So I come back tomorrow right? What time?” Nala tried to get my attention again.

  “Come at 10 a.m.”

  “Okay, see you tomorrow. Oh, I can give you a ride.”

  I said nothing and walked to Abel’s car parked along the curb while taking my Hennessy to the head.

  “Bro, she on you.” Abel laughed once I was in his passenger seat.

  “I’m ready to slap her ass. Next time she press me like I’m her nigga, don’t be surprised when I whack her stupid ass.”

  “I don’ known you for forever, nigga. I ain’t gon’ be surprised. And you just dragged two bitches by their weaves.” Abel pulled from the curb chortling. “Home?”

  “Nah, I’m too twisted. Take me to my parents’ spot. I’m gon’ sober up for a little bit then head to the crib.”

  I knew if I came in faded like I was, Camarih was gon’ be on some bullshit. She hated to fuck if she thought I was too drunk. Before she got pregnant though, she ain’t mind, and I guess it was because her ass could drink too.

  Abel dropped me at my people’s house, and after dapping him up, I went inside. I took my ass straight to the kitchen for some water and to make two sandwiches. I ate that shit in the living room, in the fucking dark, just simmering in my thoughts. I had so much shit going on and so much shit to handle, that it was stressful; good stress though. A lot of great shit was coming my way, finally, after all this damn hard work.

  “Oh! You scared me.” My stepmom Miranda walked into the living room. I could see her long ass silk robe as she tightened it. “What are you doing here? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, just needed to sober up and shit.” I held up the plate in my lap along with the water bottle to show her. “Fuck you doing up?”

  “I always go to bed late. The best movies come on after midnight.” She laughed, sitting next to me on the couch. I nodded, having no response, and I didn’t give a fuck anyway. “Where are you coming from?”

  “Studio.”

  “Drunk?”

  “That’s the norm.” I let my head fall back after I polished off the last bite of my second sandwich and then the water.

  “Why didn’t you go home? No food and water?”

  “Got plenty of that shit. I just wasn’t trying to have my girl see me all fucked up.”

  “I’ve never met her, but she must be something if she’s your girlfriend.”

  “And she’s the only fucking one I’ll ever have. If shit don’t work out, I’ll never love another bitch.”

  “Love?”

  I was tired, so I didn’t say shit. I just let my eyes close as my head rested on the top portion of the back of the couch. I started to doze off, and then minutes later, I felt my dick getting hard. Opening my eyes, I remembered where I was and saw Miranda massaging my shit through my track pants.

  “Fuck is you doing!” I knocked her hand out of my lap.

  “Tony, it’s fine.” She scooted closer to try again, but I knocked her ass onto the floor.

  “Old weird ass bitch. Throwing that tired, worn out ass pussy at me.” I was hot, standing up and stepping over her.

  “Tony.” She hopped up, gripping my shoulder, but I quickly grabbed her by that skinny ass neck and slammed her to the wall.

  “I knew there was something about yo’ ass I ain’t like from the first day I met yo’ ass. Fuck with me again, and I’m dog walkin’ yo’ ass. You ain’t my fucking mama; you just another bitch out here on some bullshit to me. My pops was a bitch, but you got the wrong muthafucka right now. Stupid ass.” I tossed her to the side and onto the couch as I shoved the screen door open, ignoring her attempts to catch her breath.

  I decided to walk home. Shit, it was late, dangerous too, but I wasn’t tripping. The last thing I was scared of was one of these stupid muthafuckas who thought they could press me.

  Took me a minute, but I made it home eventually. The fresh ass air did me some good, even though it was cold as shit. No matter how hot LA was in the daytime, once nightfall fell upon our asses, it was cold as fuck.

  I went right to the bathroom to brush, floss, and rinse, then I took a hot shower. Naked as the day I walked in this bitch called Earth, I entered the bedroom seeing pretty ass Camarih. She was on her back, in some panties and a top that only covered her titties. Her golden curly hair was tied up and sitting on top of her head messily.

  Getting in the bed on top of her after pecking her petite belly, I removed her panties, which woke her up.

  “What time is it?” she asked, eyes squinted. Pretty ass.

  “Late.” I penetrated her with my fingers to get her wet.

  “Houston, wait.” She gripped
my wrist as she pressed the back of her head into the pillow.

  “Let go, Camarih, and relax.”

  She did what I told her ass to, and minutes later, her shit was juicy as fuck.

  “Are you drunk?” she inquired softly.

  “Nope.” I entered her at the same time I spoke, making us both moan loudly.

  “I love you,” she whispered just before I kissed her.

  Sucking her lips, I beat her shit up until I came right inside of her.

  Because Holli’s stupid ass wasn’t gon’ be out of fucking jail anytime soon, I needed to replace her ass. I wanted to keep my roster small and manageable, but I still needed muthafuckas with heat. If I had a little bit of everything, I knew I could make the most fucking money that way.

  Eitan was my rapper, Nala was my singer, and Holli was supposed to be my female rapper, but her banshee ass fucked that up. On God I was happy I ain’t fix that hoe’s teeth, or I’d bail her out just to shoot her ass.

  So tonight, I was hitting this club because they had some bitches in the line up that a nigga was interested in. I’d been scouring the internet and keeping an eye out for talent and shit, and eventually, I ran across this one hoe in particular named Sosie.

  She was aight looking, but whoever was funding her lifestyle definitely made her look better than she naturally did. Some muthafuckas were busted, but because they had a little bit of bread on ’em, they could fool yo’ ass.

  “’Sup, Wacko. What you doing here?” the nigga guarding the door asked.

  “To see the talent like everybody else, nigga.”

  “Right.” He laughed. “Aye, so—”

  I entered the club, putting my hood on and not giving a fuck about what that nigga was gon’ say. I wasn’t in the mood to be friendly. I wasn’t a friendly ass nigga.

  I found a table that seemed to have a pretty good view and sat back. Some other female was up on stage at the moment, weak as fuck with it, so I looked around, hoping to see a waiter or something for a drink.

  Spotting one off to the side, I shouted, “Aye bitch, come do yo’ fucking job!”

  “Excuse me?” She put her hand on her hip, frowning with her ugly ass.