Street Divas Read online

  “Goddamn it, LeShelle. Shut the fuck up!” he shouts.

  I roll my eyes. “Ain’t this about a bitch?” I stomp into the blue room while still rolling my eyes.

  “Put this shit on.” I toss the shirt to the kid and then go back to the bathroom and knock.

  Folding my arms, I shift my weight from side to side, waiting for Python to open the door.

  “Yeah? What do you want?”

  Are you fuckin’ kidding me? “We need to talk.”

  There’s a long pause and then, “C’mon in.”

  Still struggling to hold my temper in check, I reach for the knob and open the door.

  Python is standing over the sink and picking at the hole at his side and bleeding freely all over the place. My concern for this nigga kicks in, and I toss all the other miscellaneous bullshit aside and move up next to him. “Stop. Let me take a look at it.”

  He glances down at me. “Oh. Now your ass is fucking concerned?”

  “Shut up and move your hand.” I lean in close and examine the wound. “The bullet is still in there.”

  “No shit.”

  I give him an irritated look. “You want me to help you or not?”

  “Something tells me that you’ve been looking forward to paying me back for when I took the slug out of your arm a while back.”

  “They say karma is a bitch.” I cheese up at him.

  A smile hooks one side of his mouth. “A’ight. But make this shit quick because it’s hurting like a son of a bitch.”

  “I can get it out, but because of the shape of this one, you might want to go with stitches instead of sealing it up with a hot knife.”

  “You know how to do that?”

  “I can try—or we can probably wake up Momma Peaches to handle it.”

  “This time of night?”

  “Please. You know her ass would do it for her favorite nephew.” I wink at him, but his good humor has already faded from his face.

  “Naw,” he mumbles. “I don’t need to bother her with this shit. Just do what you can.”

  I frown. Surely my smart-ass remark didn’t have him thinking about his long-lost brother, Mason. The old-timers roaming around Shotgun Row told me plenty of times about how Python’s cracked-out mother may have sold Python’s baby brother for drugs. It’s fucked up, but it’s hardly a unique story around Memphis. This city is filled to the brim with a lot of trifling women who had no damn business spitting out babies—and I put my own momma in that same category. I’ve seen my fair share of bullshit around here with these strung-out bitches. If they don’t toss it up themselves, they don’t think twice about selling their kids wholesale. And trust and believe that you can’t beat their asses sobbing and acting a fool in front of the news cameras when they report the children missing.

  Getting that next hit is the only thing that matters to a crackhead. Only, let Momma Peaches tell it, the loss of his little brother really affected Python. To this day, he has never been able to forgive his mother.

  Python resumes picking at the bleeding bullet hole.

  I smack his hand away. “Stop it. You don’t want to get an infection, do you?”

  “Well, fuck. Get the molasses out your ass and handle this shit.”

  Ungrateful bastard. For the next thirty minutes, I concentrate on getting this bullet out of Python while waiting for him to tell me what happened. When I work the bullet out, we’re both covered with blood.

  “Let me see that son of a bitch,” Python says.

  I hand him the bloody bullet and then turn to get the alcohol and peroxide from beneath the bathroom counter.

  “Soooo . . . do you wanna tell me what the fuck happened in here?” Python asks.

  It’s not like us to be tiptoeing around shit. I know that he’s a real dog and that I’m the one kept on a short chain. But when niggas have a night like we clearly had, it’s time to come correct.

  “I did what you asked,” I say flatly.

  “Which is?”

  I drench a hand towel with alcohol and start cleaning around his open wound. I know the shit has to sting, but Python doesn’t flinch. It’s small shit like this that gets my chest to swell with pride.

  “Are you going to make me wait all night?”

  “I took care of that situation between Ta’Shara and that Vice Lord muthafucka she was seeing.”

  His lips turn down as he rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right. Did she tell you that shit herself? You know bitches are some sneaky-ass muthafuckas. You need to bring her ass into the fold. Make her ass a Queen G.”

  “Done and done.”

  His black gaze finds mine again.

  I smile. “I took a few niggas down by the school, and we jacked Ta’Shara and her nigga’s shit after they left the prom.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.” I lean forward and plant a kiss on his thick lips. “I told you I’d handle it. Now it’s done.”

  “Gangsta bitch.” He slaps me on the ass.

  “I did what needed to be done. Kind of like how you had to take care of your cousin Datwon.”

  Python cocked his large head. “What? You killed her?”

  “Nah. I couldn’t do that shit—but I earthed that grimy Vice Lord she’d been fuckin’.” I cocked my hand like a pistol and placed the shit in the center of his chest. “Pow!”

  Python’s eyes lit up. “You’re fuckin’ shitting me. You capped Fat Ace’s brother?”

  “Fuck yeah. Dumped a full clip into that muthafucka! Lights out!” I laugh, remembering how good it felt to squeeze the trigger. My clit was thumping the whole time. Though it was eerie how that nigga remained on his feet like some black superhero. But his ass fell—and that’s all that matters.

  Python grabs hold of my face. “Goddamn. I fucking love your ass. You know that shit? You took that nigga’s brother out! Fuck yeah!” He pulls me up against him and lays a kiss on me that steals my breath away. I melt against him and stretch my arms around his neck. Shit. Had I known I would’ve gotten this sort of reaction, I would have capped that young gun a long time ago.

  “Oh.” I push him back. “Your side. We need to get you stitched up. After that, we can finish this celebration in the bedroom.”

  Python flicks his forked tongue at me. “I wouldn’t mind getting a little bit of that sweet ass, Mrs. Carver.”

  My heart jumps. “What did you say?”

  He reaches up and pinches me on my titties. “You heard me, Mrs. LeShelle Carver.”

  I scream and throw my arms around his neck.

  “Ow. Fuck. Now that shit hurts.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” I proceed to rain kisses all over his face. I can’t believe it. I’m finally going to go from wifey to wife.

  8

  Ta’Shara

  Profit is dead. Profit is dead.

  I shove one foot in front of the other down a cracked and fucked-up sidewalk. Inside my head it’s like there are two people—one who keeps replaying LeShelle firing bullets into Profit and another person vowing revenge.

  Profit is dead. Profit is dead.

  The only reason I know that I’m crying is because of my blurred vision. I make a lazy swipe at my face, and from the corner of my eyes, I catch two niggas hugging a street corner and pointing in my direction. My trembling, bloody hands clutch tighter the silk robe I stole out of LeShelle’s bathroom while I inch toward the edge of the sidewalk. On this side of town, there’s a good chance that these niggas are Gangster Disciples foot soldiers. If LeShelle discovers I’m gone, she’s liable to put out a street APB and have my ass hauled back to Shotgun Row. Shit. She might even offer my captors another go at me as a reward.

  Fear slithers down my spine while a sob lodges inside my throat and chokes the shit out of me.

  Don’t be stupid. LeShelle is your sister. She would never do something like that to you. She loves you.

  In answer to that bullshit, the image of Profit’s murder is replaced with the image of Dreadlocks pulling at my legs as i
f they were a wishbone and then pumping and grinding his stank-ass on top of me.

  Your mind is playing tricks on you. That never happened. LeShelle would never allow something like that to happen to you. She has always been your protector.

  Then the image of Dreadlocks is replaced with Dusty Afro, and then another nigga and then another. Now my vision is completely fucked because tears are pouring down my face like a waterfall.

  LeShelle wouldn’t—

  PROFIT IS DEAD, the other voice screamed.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block out the voices in my head. I know what’s happening. One part of my brain wants to submerge into denial while the other wants me to face reality. Right now, denial is so fuckin’ attractive to me. Why wouldn’t it be? Denial would mean that Profit is still alive, our limo was never jacked, and LeShelle . . .

  I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and waver on my feet for a few seconds. Profit is dead. NO! And it’s all your fault.

  “T!”

  My eyes pop open and my heart stops. She found me! Suddenly, I’m surrounded in a bright light and there’s a loud BANG! I jump and take off running. I don’t know where the energy comes from, but I’m eating up the ground in my bare feet.

  Run! Run!

  “T, wait up!” a voice yells out.

  I hear the loud roar of an engine and then the stench of burning oil. I’m in full panic mode because I know what LeShelle and her rapist goons will do to me if they catch me. I release my hold on the robe so I can use my hands to swing and give myself more momentum. When I get a good stride, I clip something in the middle of the sidewalk, and the next thing I know I’m airborne. I don’t have time to shift my hands forward to try and help break my fall, so I hit the concrete hard and slide for quite a ways. I’m aware of parts of my legs, arms, and even breasts scraping off, but I’m still physically numb and am able to jump back up and continue running.

  “Goddamn it, Ta’Shara! It’s me! Essence!”

  It’s a trick. Keep running! Hearing the car come up onto the sidewalk, I make a sharp right and hoof it toward a fenced backyard. It shouldn’t be any problem jumping this muthafucka, but when I place my hand on the fence, this huge German Shepherd appears out of nowhere and jumps up.

  “Ahhhhh!” I jump back in time to avoid the dog’s vicious-looking teeth as they snap away at where my hands were.

  Feet race up behind me.

  “Ta’Shara!”

  They are going to catch you! I take off toward the front of the house, with the dog running and barking from the other side of the fence.

  “Drey, get her!”

  No! No! No! An arm wraps around my waist and lifts me clear off the ground.

  “Gotcha!”

  Another scream rips from my throat as I twist around and rake my fingers down this nigga’s mug shot.

  “Aaaaaagh!”

  His scream is like music to my ears as he drops me. However, my knees hit the backs of his legs, and we both tumble to the ground.

  I land on something hard poking out of the ground, and the wind is knocked out of me. I can’t even get my thoughts together.

  “You crazy fucking bitch! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  He grabs me by the shoulder, flips me over onto my back, and then pins my arms out like a crucifixion. The sight of another man straddling and pinning me down is all too much. I can’t take it. I can’t. Drawing a deep breath, I scream from my very soul while mentally curling into a fetal position and checking out of reality.

  9

  Essence

  Ta’Shara’s wild, gut-wrenching scream shocks the fuck out of me and causes each hair on my body to stand up. For a second, I back the hell up and look around to double-check that there ain’t nobody thinking we’re doing something to this girl. But as usual, the few dealers and crackheads who are hanging tough out here in the middle of the night are minding their business. They don’t see shit, hear shit, and damn sure ain’t about to call the po-po to come fuck up their cash flow.

  “What the fuck is wrong with this bitch?” Drey shouts, still struggling to keep Ta’Shara pinned down.

  I shake my head while my gaze falls back down to the ground to take in the whole scene. Despite it being dark as fuck, I am able to get a good look at T’s bloody body and the dark, purpling bruises on her arms, chest, and face. Somebody worked her ass over real good. What the fuck?

  Drey twists his head over his shoulder. “Essence! Are you going to help me with this bitch or not?”

  Blinking and then mentally shaking myself out of shock, I rush over and drop down next to my girl. “T! Please calm down!” I try to still her thrashing head so that she can get a good look at my face. The shit ain’t easy because she’s strong as fuck and blasting my eardrums wide open.

  “Let’s let her crazy ass go,” Drey shouts. “Clearly, she ain’t right in the head.”

  “Have you lost your mind? Can’t you see that something has happened to her?”

  “Something happened to me, too! Look at my face!”

  Crude, jagged, and bleeding scratches ran down his face. “Shit. She did that?”

  “Didn’t you see her?” He pauses for a sec. “Wait. How bad does it look?”

  I ain’t about to tell him that Ta’Shara has fucked up his face. The vain nigga might retaliate or some dumb shit. “Let’s get her to the hospital,” I say, changing the subject. “T, look at me!” I lean down until we’re nose to nose. “See, Ta’Shara, it’s me.”

  “Hospital?” Drey echoes.

  There isn’t an ounce of recognition in Ta’Shara’s eyes. Only fear.

  Oh my God. Who did this to you?

  “Look, Essence. I ain’t taking this girl to no fuckin’ hospital,” Drey says. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way.”

  I whip my head around. “We have to take her to the hospital. Look at her!”

  He’s shaking his head the whole time while I’m talking. “Ain’t going to happen. Those muthafuckas ask way too many questions, and I don’t know shit. Don’t wanna know shit and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell them any goddamn way.”

  “But—”

  “She’s your girl. Not mine. I ain’t getting involved in this bullshit. Look where the fuck we are. We’re in GD territory—our shit. You think I’m going to help the po-po bring heat over here? Shit. You’re out of your goddamn mind.” He foolishly releases Ta’Shara’s hands, and my girl comes up swinging, clocking both me and Drey on each side of our heads.

  “Owwww!” The shit stuns the fuck out of me, and while I’m reeling to the side, I hear this loud crack!

  “Goddamn it, bitch!”

  While I’m blinking stars out from behind my eyes, I realize that Ta’Shara’s screaming has stopped. I pick myself off the ground and look over to see Drey shaking his hand while T is knocked out cold beneath him.

  “What the fuck did you do?” I check to see if my girl is okay.

  “What the fuck does it look like? I shut her the fuck up!”

  There’s a pulse and she seems to be breathing evenly.

  “You’re welcome.” Drey climbs off of her. “I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Wait!” I grab his wrist. “Where are you going?”

  “Home. Fuck this shit.” He tries to shake me loose. “This shit ain’t my problem.”

  I tighten my grip. “You can’t leave us here.”

  Drey laughs and snatches his hand free. “Watch me.”

  Jumping up, I chase after him. “Drey, please. You gotta help me!”

  “I ain’t gotta do shit.” He strolls back toward his car.

  “Goddamn it. Please! I swear, I’ll do anything you ask. Just help me with my girl.” That shit gets him to slow down. “Absolutely anything you want.” I grab him by the shirt and pull him up against my body. “Anything and for however long you want it.” I slide my hands down inside his pants and give his hairy nut sac a good squeeze. “Word is bond.”

  A small smile hooks the sid
e of Drey’s lips as he peeks down into my chocolate cleavage. “Any freaky shit I want?”

  “Anything.” I move my hand from his balls to grip his dick for a few strokes. Niggas around here don’t do shit without getting something in return.

  “A’ight, then.” He nods before turning back around. “You better not renege on this shit neither.”

  My shoulders slump with relief as I follow him back. While she’s still passed out, Drey has no problem scooping her up off the ground and carrying her to his rusted-out piece of shit, where he tosses my girl into the backseat like she’s a rag doll.

  “Goddamn it. Be careful,” I bark, and then climb into the backseat, too.

  Drey rolls his eyes. “Muthafuck that bitch,” he mutters under his breath, and then slams our door. “Lucky my ass ain’t dumping her ass into the trash.”

  Ignoring him, I turn my attention to Ta’Shara. I don’t know whether I should wake her or let her sleep this shit off. But what the hell happened to her? And where the fuck is Profit? I close the robe she has on because her bruised chest and breasts are making my stomach churn and lurch.

  Drey climbs behind the wheel and then shifts this death contraption into reverse, which of course causes his busted-ass tailpipe to complain with another loud-ass BANG! “Where to?”

  “The Med. That’s the closest, right?” I ask.

  “Fine. But we’re doing a drop-and-roll.”

  “But—”

  “Save the bullshit. That’s the deal or both y’all muthafuckas can get the fuck out of my ride right now.”

  “That’s fucked up.”

  “Nah. Whoever done that shit to your girl is fucked up, but you need to stop and put two and two together before you start thinking about getting involved.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  He rolls his eyes like I’m the stupidest muthafucka who has ever walked the earth. “The last time we saw your girl, she was rolling up out of the prom with that slob Profit. They were both cheesing and rubbing on each other like they didn’t know they were violating a whole much of fuckin’ rules. GD and Vice don’t mix, you feel me?”