Around the Way Girls 9 (26 page)

Going in the direction of home, I wasn't in the mood to meet up with Wally. I needed some down time after all the drama that had taken place this morning; plus I needed to get Mr. Goldstein on board with recanting the paperwork he'd sent to Ms. Donahue. I'd catch up with Wally before Mike's party. Both him and Ta'Nique would have to understand.

 

 

I gathered all the stuff that I'd stolen from the beauty supply stashing it into my padlocked bedroom. Cori and I shared a three-bedroom flat on the west side in a run-down neighborhood of abandoned homes. On any given day you could catch a copper bandit running from the half-standing house next to your home with plumbing pipes on their back. Or a catalytic converter thief under your only car. Yeah, we were Detroit born and raised to the bottom of our motherfucking hearts. Neither one of us had jobs but that didn't matter; we had hustle about ourselves, so the bills always got paid. Hook or hustle, Cori and I handled our business. Word to the empty purse sluts out here giving ya goodies away: wise up. As long as you have a pussy, aka a rent box, you're never really broke. If a bitch wakes up broke, she had no business taking her raggedy ass to sleep. But times were getting hard, and by it being a drought our pockets were looking light 'cause niggas weren't out here generating funds like they normally did. That's why we needed the link with Wally badly.

Waiting on the porch for my first morning client, I was also waiting on Cori to pull back up. She was still out using ol' girl's credit cards and, if I was lucky, hooking up with Wally. That was the link we needed, plus Vic would have a reason to come back to me full time. It had been a hella busy morning with no slow down in future with heads to do back to back. Against my better judgment, I dialed my boyfriend's number hoping he'd answer. Vic had put me out of his apartment last night after I told him my period was late, and hadn't bothered to call to see if I'd made it home safely.

“What up, doe?” he answered groggily, obviously sleeping well not knowing if I was alive or not.

“Damn, nigga, so you wasn't gonna call to see if I made in last night or nothing? You ain't shit.” Not wasting any time, I began cutting into him instantly. I was partially upset with myself for thinking he was going to take the news easily. Vic wasn't the type of man who women fished for when looking to get wifed, but I thought my pussy had kryptonite in it. Now all I had was a crumb snatcher in my uterus.

“Kill that noise, Nique. Did you find out about that situation you called yourself bringing to my table last night?” Breathing hard and grumbling, he still didn't seem thrilled about the mere mention of the subject.

“Not yet. I've been running around with Cori all morning taking care of business. I plan to though.” Seeing my client pull up, I waved that I'd seen her and to come on in before rushing to disappear into the house.

“You should've checked your piss before you called yourself checking me. What type of dumb shit are you are on, Nique?” Vic called himself checking me. I could hear it in his voice that he was waking up ready to go hard like last night. The bass and hostility in his voice took me back to being manhandled then tossed onto my ass.

“I'm not on no dumb shit as you like to call it, babe. That was me keeping it real and preparing you for our future. But your reaction was harsh and bold. I didn't expect for you to clown me like you did. You don't want to stress me out do you? I could be carrying your seed.” My intentions were to lay it on thick so I put on the soft girl voice that got me the long stroke on many days. I needed for Vic's mood to lighten up. He was too tense over nothing. Having a baby, a small family, and committing to what we've been doing for months wasn't so bad . . . at least in my opinion.

“Bitch, please. Piss on a stick then get back at me.” Swiftly dismissing everything I'd just told him, Vic hung up the phone not giving me a second thought.

 

Safely back at home, Nique was in the dining room with a client while I was snuggling up with my pillow watching
The Game
reruns on Netflix. When I first got home from sliding through the gas stations, I went online to order a few credit cards with the information found in her wallet. When the instant application was approved, I had them overnight the card and provide the sixteen-digit number for instant online shopping. Everything was mailed to abandoned houses throughout the neighborhood so it couldn't be traced back to me. The UPS man was an undercover junkie I'd pay twenty dollars to forget it ever happened. Since he wanted his drug habit to stay under wraps to keep his good-benefits job, he never gave me a problem. Once done burning through all other cards ordering a few laptops, cameras, and video games for Mike, I cut the cards up, but anticipated new ones coming bright and early in the morning.

Everyone came to me for legitimate-looking paperwork like insurance, identification cards, check stubs, and even bills. I was a mastermind when it came to crafting replicas and had been getting down on the system for years. Tax time was my best time. You didn't have to work daily and pay taxes to get a refund at my establishment. All I needed to hook you up was a social security number, state-issued ID number, birth date, and the checking or savings account information with routing numbers so the returns could be direct deposited. Knowing all the drop dates, it was customary for me to stalk like a hulk and make sure those who owed me paid the fee. I'd wait on doorsteps or usher to banks if necessary. I made sure me and Nique ate like kings from January to April. It was hit and miss every month after that. Identity theft should have been a major in school; I would've never dropped out.

A single day hadn't gone by in the last year I hadn't been on the streets grinding. Rain, sleet, snow, or blazing hot rays of sun, you could catch me trying to turn what little I had into something more. When I called dry-snitching Mr. Goldstein and told him to recant his form and send a new one to Ms. Donahue, he agreed but not before requesting a hand job at least. My rest was about to end shortly. I knew from past experience he was quite punctual when it came to getting his nut off. Getting bored with the made-for-TV saga between Melanie, Jenay, and Derwin, I decided to do some social surfing to see what people had up for the day. Mike was too busy getting everything ready for the weekly gambling party to text or talk to me so there was nothing but spare time to kill.

As usual, my Facebook feed had the same long, drawn out sob-story posts. I wasn't trying to scroll through all that nonsense having my own woe-is-me book to write so I quickly logged off to log into my Instagram account. Now on here it was popping. Laughing at all the joke photos and videos until my stomach ached, my drama-filled morning had turned back around. I didn't know how people lived before the invention of social media. Continuing to kill time, I took a few snapshots of myself making a collage and hash tagged them selfie before posting for likes. Slightly ratchet with my purple bonnet on, I didn't care 'cause my brows were crispy and even on my worst day I was cute. Waiting on the picture to load, I damn near dropped my phone at what popped up in my feed.

“Really, Mike? So you're out getting liquor? This looks like a light brunch date to me.” Sitting up from comfortably lying across the bed, I spoke out loud as I intently studied the picture of him and some random female. I was looking for details that told a definite when and where the picture was taken.
Where'd this flunky come from? Who is she? And why is she cutting in on our morning wake and bake sessions?

As bad as I wanted to jump crazy on his phone, me and Mike weren't official so I didn't have that privilege. Instead, I studied the picture so hard I could imagine myself at the same table with them going upside his head. My mind was psychotic over this good-looking man but he refused to give me sincerity, commitment, or even the hood label of wifey. How we got down was more between us but having the side title of his side chick was better than anything. Not being able to contain myself, I doubled tapped the picture and joined the other ten people who liked it so far. I was sure I wasn't the only thirsty side piece in desperation for his attention.
Oh well, guess he'll catch up with me when he's done caking with her less-than-pretty ass. He's gotta drop those gift cards off anyway.

With my attitude now sour, my stress reliever quickly turned into an even worse stressor. Once I hit refresh, the newsfeed reloaded itself and the first post had me more choked up than the picture of Mike and his mistress.
Is this a joke? Already? It ain't even been but a couple of hours.
CrimeInTheD, a social networking site that gives almost real ticker time brief details of crimes that take place in Detroit, just posted a picture three minutes ago of the beauty supply Nique and I robbed. The headline read
LOCALCOMPANYBURGLARIZEDWITHOWNERSLEFTFORDEAD
. My soul nearly jumped out of my body, scared shitless if the only real witness we knowingly left behind was currently singing like a canary. My hands momentarily went numb as the phone fell to the floor.

“Nique,” I shouted, swinging my bedroom door open, running into the front room.

“Girl, what's wrong?” She turned around holding up a smoking hot pressing comb. “I almost sizzled her scalp.”

“Bring ya ass to the back right quick. It's important.” Once I noticed her client staring me up and down, I calmed down almost instantly. Because females always found a reason to keep my name in their mouth, I didn't feed them with tidbits of my business. I'd never been too fond of females.

“It better be, girl. I'm trying to stay on schedule.” Nique placed the hot comb on the already burned-up towel then tapped her client on the shoulder. “I'll be right back, boo.” She must've read the seriousness in my face and caught on to what I was doing then played right along with it. Nique was always good with picking up on my vibe. The customer looked on pissed with a half head of weave, probably more so because she couldn't be privy to what was going on. Not paying it any mind, Nique followed me back to my room.

“Someone already reported the break-in,” I whispered low enough so the nosey client up front couldn't hear. I handed my cell phone over for her to see the same post that had me on ten.

Her eyes immediately bulged out. “Already? This is crazy.”

“Yeah, it is. Which makes me think one of those three are talking.” Taking my phone back, sitting down onto the bed, I was ready to take action and roll out.

“I don't think so, Corielle. We already knew the Koreans had to report everything that happened. But half-English-speaking Sue and Sam won't be able to tell them anything specific other than “black girl, medium hair and short hair.” Nique imitated Ms. Swan from
MADtv
perfectly.

“If you're that comfortable, then I guess I should just cool out.” I shook my head while checking the ashtray for a long-enough tail to smoke. “But if I hear a description even close to one that matches yours or mine, we're on Kelly Tandy's head!” I was ready to go take her out now. What was the point of leaving someone the opportunity to talk?

“No doubt, no doubt. You already know how we get down so if the time presents itself, it can be whatever.” Taking a few puffs of the stinky Mary Jane it was easy to tell Nique had something else heavy on her mind. Knowing she wasn't the one to vent about her business, easily able to mask her emotions, I didn't probe for answers. Whatever it was, though, had her better judgment clouded. We were a ghetto force to be reckoned with but I wasn't comfortable with leaving my fate in some stranger's hand. This bell might have to be rung with me on the solo tip. Kelly Tandy wasn't going to be my downfall.

After a few more times of passing the blunt back and forth, Nique left without even bringing up Wally. That was a definite red flag that something was up with my girl. I couldn't be the monkey on her back, though, 'cause I had my own issues with Mike. Not seeing him respond to my text had me feeling some type of way. It was hard not to let what he was doing faze me since in my mind we were working on a future. Hood girl or not, I had a heart that he was way too crafty at manipulating.

Hearing my stomach grumble, the big girl in me was starving. I hadn't eaten since last night's weed-induced munchies attack. It was time to get down in the kitchen before the landlord arrived. I was bound to regurgitate tricking with him on an empty stomach for sure, so this was a precautionary measure, too. In the short time I had, I prepared a pot of extra cheesy grits, pork link sausages, and wheat toast, topping it off with an ice-cold glass of tropical fruit punch Kool-Aid Cori made last night. My plate could barely cool down before I was scarfing the food down my throat. I was hungrier than two fat starved hostages. Once I swallowed the last bite, my phone rang. Mr. Goldstein must've sensed I was close to falling into a food-induced coma. My head was more than ready to hit the pillow.

 

 

“You better sign where necessary and fax these papers before end of business today, old man.” I shoved in his face a copy of the illegitimate forms my caseworker shut down earlier. “And next time you get something about me from them, you better make me your first call.” Repulsed that I had to jack him off, I wiped his thick, sticky goo from my hand onto the rag I'd brought out. It was so nasty and disgusting but what other choice did I have? With a case pending for welfare fraud, the only thing that mattered to me was preventing the charges. I didn't care nor expect my assistance case to be reopened.

“I'm gonna be calling your sweet brown self all right. With all that goodness, I'd like to call you first for a lot of things. How about we go by our spot for a few hours? Make ya'self a little change? Let me taste that black sweetness?” Mr. Goldstein reached over and rubbed my thigh thinking the proposition of money could make me wet. But money can't make you cum in all situations. For a middle-aged businessman he should've turned me on. Instead, everything about him grossed me out.

“Naw, I ain't late on my rent and don't plan to be. Just make sure you sign those papers.” Sticking to the most important matter at hand, I didn't want him to get deflected nor feeling some type of way at being dismissed.

“You'll be calling by the fifth.” He squeezed my thigh again, this time trying to slide his hand up farther. He was an old, dirty bastard.

I cringed and moved over in an attempt to let him know his plan wasn't about to go down.

“I hope you're late so I can charge a fee. Them slob jobs you're so good at have me sleeping like a baby.” He winked before hitting the unlock button, signaling me to get out.

“I plan on having your cash on time this go-around, Mr. Goldstein. But please make sure to keep your word and fax those papers. If they lock me up for welfare fraud you won't be getting none of this.”

“A deal is a deal. Plus I've been counting on you to get me off at least once a week for the last year. I wouldn't dare ruin a good thing. I'll have them faxed with a recant by tonight.”

“Thanks, babe.” I gritted my teeth then leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. At this point I was working hard by laying it on thick. I could feel his dirty old man eyes fixated on my curves as I sashayed up the walkway so I made sure to put an extra pep in my step and switch to my plump behind with confidence to keep his mouth watering. Once he honked the horn and pulled off, I knew his clammy hand was wrapped tightly around his pink peckerwood.

“Cori. Hey, niece,” Uncle Spook called, coming from across the street. It wasn't even noon and he was already sipping on a beer, a cheap one at that. Not really my uncle, but the oldest dopefiend from around the way, everyone from the neighborhood gave him the handle as way of showing him a little respect.

“Nothing much, Unc, about to go crash. My worker was on the tip this morning at my appointment and sucked the life out of me. You know how that goes.”

“Shit, I can't stand them cock suckers down there,” he slurred, smelling like straight Paul Mason. “Did you hear me and my boys steal that big heavy-ass awning off of the porch last night from that corner house?” Spook kept talking, dismissing the fact that I'd just said I was tired. “That scrap paid out big time for us, so we're about to hit all of these abandoned houses around here.” Seeing the hood at its best, Spook should have felt a little guilt for tearing his community down. He should've been preaching to the youth to have brighter days, rallying against the thieves, drug dealers, and common criminals who peddled to the poor, and pumping hope into his hometown. Instead, Uncle Spook was contributing to the failed black man statistic. His whole purpose in life was to hustle the next man in his ploy to get high.

“Naw, for real? That shit is crazy. I don't see how y'all pulled that off without getting the cops called 'cause that shit was big. It had to be loud, too.” Biting my tongue, catching myself from clowning Spook too hard, my real question was how his skinny, crack-rock-hunting ass lifted anything over a few pounds. I guessed with a rock being involved, Superman strength was possible.

“Yeah, but we wasn't playing, niece. I'm for real. Tonight at like four a.m. we're gonna hit up the house next door to you. So don't be alarmed coming out to shoot ol' Uncle Spook.” Even though he was laughing, Spook knew that under the right circumstances, which would be the wrong for him, I'd do him in. When it came to my safety, no one's well-being mattered.

“Spook, you crazy. Don't come down this way fucking up my sleep. G'on around the corner to those duplexes or go steal everything down to the paint chips somewhere else.” I laughed at him, still trying to make my way up the porch stairs into the house.