Eviction Notice, page 12
“If you wanna hear a joke, wait until they come out with the story of your life on audiobook.” Ms. Pat slapped her thigh and roared as if she’d just come up with the funniest joke in the world. “Girl, you know I’m just playing. How the children doing?”
“They’re good, the big ones are outta my hair for the day so it’s just me and Hassan.” Boots nodded to the stroller Bernie was pushing.
“Hey, baby.” Ms. Pat pulled the stroller toward her so she could get a better look at the child. “He looks just like his daddy, but I see a little of you in there too, Bernie.”
“Huh?” Bernie frowned.
“Nothing, baby.” Ms. Pat patted his hand sympathetically, and looked at Boots, whose skin had gone pale. Thankfully, Gucci came walking up with the kids and diverted Ms. Pat’s attention. “Hey, my grandbabies.” Ms. Pat hugged Jalen and Miles when they rushed to her. “I hope y’all didn’t give Gucci too much trouble?”
“Trouble ain’t the word.” Gucci sighed. “I am so glad I don’t have kids, because if I did I’d surely be in the nuthouse.” Gucci dropped Jalen and Miles’s overnight bags next to Ms. Pat on the bench.
“Gucci, what’s good, ma?” Boots hugged her warmly.
Gucci’s nose wrinkled as Boots was a bit tart, but Gucci didn’t push her friend away. For as trifling as Boots was, it felt good to see a familiar face. “Chilling, what’s going on with you?”
Boots shrugged. “Trying to get it how I live like everybody else.”
“I know that’s right.” Gucci gave her a high five.
“What up, Gucci, you can’t speak?” Happy addressed her.
“Hey, Happy.” Gucci rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Bernie and the baby. “What’s good, daddy day care?” she teased Bernie.
“You know me, enjoying the square life with my wife and family,” Bernie said proudly, pushing the stroller forward so Gucci could see his son.
Gucci tickled the baby’s plump chin, causing him to giggle and drool. “Damn, he’s getting big. When y’all having another one?”
“Shit, I’m five and done. I’m about to get my tubes tied,” Boots told her.
Gucci twisted her lips. “Boots, you were screaming you were getting your tubes tied two kids ago and still ain’t found your way under the knife, so knock it off. Besides, Bernie is a young man and he’ll probably wanna have more kids,” Gucci teased her.
“Then he better get one of them mail-order bitches to bear them because I’m done,” Boots said seriously.
“Ay, Gucci, what’s up with ya girl Tionna?” Happy asked.
“You keep better tabs on her than I do, so I should ask you the same,” Gucci shot back.
Happy had been obsessed with Tionna for as long as Gucci could remember, and after Tionna finally let him hit it, the obsession had gone to another level. Happy showered her with gifts, money, and everything under the sun, but there was no amount of wealth that he flaunted that could make her give him her heart, because back then it still belonged to Duhan. Happy turned into a borderline stalker, popping up wherever Tionna was and making trouble. Ironically, it was Happy who had been responsible for Gucci and Animal’s meeting.
Tionna and Gucci had been at a Big Dawg listening party when Happy and some of his flunkies showed up. When Tionna slighted him for Don B., Happy tried to cause a scene. He ended up getting his ass whipped by members of Don B.’s entourage, but one of Happy’s people had managed to sneak a gun inside the place and when he pulled it, all hell broke loose. When security whisked Don B. and the ladies out of the club, Tionna and Gucci ended up paired off with Animal and Don B. Initially, Gucci couldn’t stand Animal, writing him off as just another street cat, but the more she got to know him the more drawn to him she found herself. Tionna and Don B.’s relationship had ended horribly, but for Animal and Gucci it had been kismet.
“Tionna don’t want me,” Happy said sadly. “I’d be willing to give that girl the world if she just acted right, but she don’t see that.”
“Money can’t buy love, Hap,” Bernie said, looking tenderly at Boots.
“It may not be able to buy love, but a damn good substitute,” Boots said with a snort, which started a minor argument between her and Bernie.
Happy stood around watching the exchange, laughing, then he suddenly felt a chill down his back. He looked up to see Mookie staring at him. “What’s good, Mookie?”
“You tell me, big time?” Mookie sucked his teeth. “I heard you’re the man to see, baller.”
“You know money makes the world go round, baby,” Happy said arrogantly.
“I hear that hot shit. Let ya boy hold something,” Mookie said.
Happy shrugged. “I ain’t got it.”
“You ain’t got it, huh?” Mookie looked from Happy’s iced-out chain to the nugget ring on his pinkie finger. “Let me find out.”
“Well, when you find out, give me a holla,” Happy shot back. “I’m out.” He waddled down the street. Happy talked tough to impress the ladies, but he secretly feared Mookie. He knew how the old-school gangster got down and didn’t want to get caught up.
“Fat muthafucka,” Mookie said when Happy was out of earshot.
“Damn, Mookie, you hate everybody,” Boots accused.
“Nah, just that muthafucka. He’s a piece of shit and a snake that would sell his own mama for a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
“Who, Hap? Nah, that’s a good dude right there. It’s been a few times when I was down he put me on to get some bread with him,” Bernie defended Happy.
Mookie looked at Bernie as if he had lost his mind. “You mean get money for him. Happy don’t do shit for nobody unless it’s to benefit his greedy ass. If I were you, I’d steer clear of that muthafucka before you find yourself wearing a charge for him. Come on, Fish, let’s boogie. I’m about to go grab a forty and get with this shorty.” Mookie started off toward Manhattan Avenue, with Fish on his heels.
“I don’t know why everybody always trying to kick Happy’s back in; he’s one of the realest niggaz out here,” Bernie said.
Ms. Pat just shook her head at his ignorance. “The Lord looks out for babies, fools, and dumb animals, and being the good Christian I am, I ain’t gonna speculate which category this one falls into,” she said under her breath.
“Watch it, that’s my baby daddy you’re talking about.” Boots folded her arms and gave Ms. Pat a stink look.
“What happened, you got some frog in you?” Ms. Pat picked up her purse.
“Auntie, why don’t you leave people alone?” Gucci scolded. “Boots, pay her no mind. You know Aunt Pat gets a little crazy when she’s off her meds.” Gucci tried to laugh it off.
“Niece of mine, you’re absolutely right. As a matter of fact, it’s about time for my treatment.” Ms. Pat fished around in her wig for the joint she’d stashed and placed it between her lips. “One of y’all give me a light.”
“Auntie, put that away. You can’t get blazed in front of Miles and Jalen like that!” Gucci said.
“Why the hell not? They mama get blazed damn near every night. I guess that’s why she keeps getting pregnant.” Ms. Pat laughed hysterically.
“Gucci, what does blazed mean?” Miles asked innocently.
“None of your business. Don’t pay your grandmother any mind.” Gucci hugged her nephew to her.
A young man wearing a pair of skinny jeans sagging off his ass ambled over to the bench and waved to get Ms. Pat’s attention. “Hey, Ms. Pat, you holding?”
It seemed like everyone, including the children, looked to Ms. Pat for a response.
“Negro, is you crazy, rolling up on me while I’m out here with my fam? I don’t play that shit.” She hugged Jalen and Miles to her so that their backs were to the young man and mouthed, Meet me in the lobby in five minutes. The young man gave her a confused nod and went back the way he had come. “The nerve of some of these young folks, got me out here G-checking mofos and getting all excited. Shit, got my damn pressure up.” She fanned herself.
“Auntie, your ass is a trip.” Gucci laughed.
“With no luggage.” Ms. Pat gave her a high five. “Okay, kids, let me run y’all in the house so I can feed you before ya mama come to pick you up.”
“We’re not hungry, we had candy on the way over here with Gucci,” Jalen told her.
“Well, candy doesn’t count as food, so come on.” Ms. Pat got up off the bench and started gathering her things. Jalen sucked her teeth. “Suck ’em one more time and I’ll bet I’ll make you swallow ’em.” This quieted Jalen. “I swear you get more and more like ya mama every day.”
“Speaking of Jada, what’s up with her? Finding her has been like finding Nemo lately,” Gucci said.
“I haven’t seen too much of her either, thank the Lord. Since Cutty came home from prison she’s been staying uptown with him, playing house,” Ms. Pat told her.
“More like playing catch-up. I heard she burned him for like twenty stacks and he’s making her work it off,” Boots said. As soon as the words left her mouth and she saw the glare she got from Ms. Pat and Gucci, she regretted opening her mouth.
“Let me tell you something.” Ms. Pat pointed her finger at Boots. “I don’t care what you and Jada’s differences are, but she’s still a Butler so you watch your damn mouth when you’re talking about my granddaughter, especially when you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I didn’t mean no disrespect, Ms. Pat. I’m just telling y’all what the streets are saying,” Boots said apologetically.
“The streets say a lot, and if I repeated half of what I hear, yo ass would sure nuff be on the way to the emergency room and ol’ Bernie here would be on his way to prison, so let’s not throw stones, Boots. And if the streets need something to talk about, tell them this: if anybody is stupid enough to mistreat a member of my family, that iron will sure as hell get their minds right.” She patted her purse. “On that note, I’m out. Come on, children.” Ms. Pat snatched her great-grandkids by the arms and stormed off.
* * *
“Boots, you always did know how to put your foot in your mouth.” Gucci laughed.
Boots sucked her teeth. “Gucci, your aunt be tripping. I was only saying what’s already out there.”
“Well, you said it to the wrong person. You know she don’t play when it comes to her great-grandkids, especially Jada. She might pop a lot of shit, but that’s still her baby girl, crazy-ass baby daddy or not.”
“Hey, what’s the deal with Cutty anyway? I heard that nigga had a hundred years or some shit like that—how’s he home?” Bernie asked.
Gucci shrugged. “Don’t start me to lying. Let Jada tell it, he was able to give most of his time back on appeal because of some kind of technicality with his case.”
Boots looked at her sideways. “I know niggaz still laying up for drugs because their appeals were denied, so with Cutty having all of them bodies I just can’t see him getting off like that. Shit smells funny to me.”
“And what do you mean by that?” Gucci asked.
Boots thought about it for a few minutes before answering her. “Look, Gucci, I don’t know how they doing it on Fortieth Street these days, but in these projects, snitching has become the new drug of choice and all these niggaz is addicts. Maybe Cutty decided he wasn’t built to do life in prison?”
“Hold on, Boots. Now though I ain’t no big fan of Cutty’s, real recognizes real. Cutty might be a lot of things, but I can’t see him being no snitch.”
“That’s the same thing they said about Rock Head before he got Animal wrapped up.” Boots meant it as a joke to assassinate Rock Head’s character, but there was no mirth in Gucci’s eyes, only fire. “Sorry, Gucci, I didn’t mean to bring up a touchy subject.”
“Can’t be touchy when your spirit is numb, ma.” Gucci cracked a half smile, trying to hide her hurt. “My nigga is gone and I’m always gonna miss him, but for the little bit of time we did have together I got to know true love. That’s something a lot of people will never find no matter how high or how low they look.” Her eyes lingered on Bernie, who was playing with the baby. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence Gucci glanced at her watch. “I gotta get outta here, but it was good seeing you, Boots. You too, Bernie.”
“Don’t stay away so long the next time.” Boots gave her a tight hug.
Gucci held her at arm’s length and smiled. “I’m always around, I just ain’t here.” she looked around at the projects. “Ima see you later, Boots.”
Boots stood there watching Gucci stride proudly down the hill toward Manhattan Avenue, letting what she had said roll around in her mind. Gucci had been beaten to the ground by what she went through and still managed to hold her head high and carry on as if nothing were wrong. Boots admired her for her strength and hated herself for not being as strong. She was a settler, in life and in love, and looking at Bernie playing with her son only reminded her of how far down the ladder she was slipping.
CHAPTER 18
The Crazy Horse was one of many gentlemen’s clubs located in New York City. On any given night you could find it packed with men and women downing booze and ogling flesh, living out fantasies in their minds and in some cases one of the back rooms reserved for VIP services, but at six o’clock in the evening this wasn’t the case. There were a few hard legs mounted on bar stools, watching the two homely girls on stage, trying to make them jump through hoops for the few singles they had to offer, but other than that, the spot was dead that early in the evening.
Porsha strutted across the sticky floor of the main area with her blond wig blowing in the breeze of the tower fans. She wore a black G-string bikini under a sheer robe that tied at the waist. Normally the day shift was reserved for girls who weren’t attractive or skilled enough to compete with the nighttime lineup; neither applied to Porsha, but she was on a paper chase and every dollar counted.
Ever since they’d received the eviction notice it had weighed heavily on her. Things had been rough on her for the last few months with paying for school and just day-to-day living, but she had managed to maintain and kept picking up the pieces of her life. Getting evicted would be a major setback in the grand scheme of what she was doing. If they did get put out, she was sure she would be able to eventually get back on her feet, but it would take time and money, meaning that she would have to drop out of school to work more hours, and that would put her back at square one. Porsha had worked too hard to get where she was and wasn’t about to blow it all because of someone else’s bullshit.
From the beginning she had been apprehensive about moving in with Frankie and Sahara because of how they’d all met in the first place. She had known Sahara from her days dancing at the Golden Lady and had met Frankie through her. Sahara had a beef with a pimp who was trying to force her to get down with him, so she had started bringing Frankie with her a couple of nights per week to watch her back in case he tried something crazy, which he did. The pimp and Sahara had gotten into a heated word exchange that resulted in his trying to put his hands on her, which was a mistake. Frankie broke a bottle over the pimp’s head and the two of them went toe-to-toe in the middle of the club. Not one to see a man beating on a woman, Porsha tried to break it up, which prompted one of the pimp’s whores to get into it and all hell broke loose. The end result was Porsha and Sahara being banned from the Golden Lady. The girl’s having each other’s backs during the brawl had forged a bond between them that would eventually grow into an unlikely friendship.
A hand grazing her arm snapped Porsha out of her daze and brought her back to the reality of where she was and what she was doing. He was a young dude of about twenty or so, wearing gaudy jewelry, sitting behind one of the small tables on the floor with two of his friends. He wasn’t the most handsome cat Porsha had ever seen but he had a fistful of singles so she went with his advance.
“What’s good, ma?” he asked with a smile.
“You,” she said seductively. “How about a dance?”
“How much?” he asked.
“Twenty per song.”
“A’ight, come on.” He pushed his chair back from the table so she could do her thing. Porsha lowered herself onto his lap and began to move in time with the song that was playing. The young man could feel the heat of Porsha’s sex through his jeans and it brought him to an instant erection. “Damn,” he moaned.
Porsha ground harder on his lap. “You like that, don’t you?” He reeked of alcohol but she ignored the stench and kept plucking dollars from him.
“Hell yeah,” he breathed. Porsha turned around and grabbed her ankles and began bouncing her ass up and down on his lap. He was in the throes of pleasure when the song ended and Porsha abruptly stopped her grinding. “Shit, why you stopped?”
“Song is over, boo,” Porsha said while counting her singles.
“Damn, baby, that was way too quick.” He grabbed her arm to try to prevent her from leaving.
Porsha looked at his hand as if it were a rash that had suddenly appeared on her arm. “If you want more you gotta pay for more.”
“I can dig it, baby. Money ain’t no thing.” He fanned out the singles he had left in his hand. “Just let me know what the ticket is?”
“One song for twenty and three for fifty,” she told him, eyeing the money hungrily.
The young man thought on it for a minute. “Yeah, all that shit is cool, but what if I wanted something a li’l more intimate?” He was trying to sound suave but the alcohol had his words slurring.
Porsha frowned. “Nah, daddy, it ain’t that type of party.”
“Not even for two hundred?” he asked.
As bad as Porsha could’ve used the money, she wasn’t about to sell her pussy. “Like I told you, I don’t get down like that. If you wanna fuck, then you might wanna get at one of these other chicks to see if they can help you out.” She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her again, this time more forcefully.
“C’mon, ma, stop acting like that. I know you could use the paper or else why would you be in here shaking your ass in the middle of the day. Check it, let’s not play games. I got a stack for you if you break out with me and my niggaz right now.” He pulled a large knot of money from his pocket and set it on the table.
