Eviction Notice, page 21
Don B. wasn’t familiar with the name. “Who the fuck is King James?”
“A young boy from the Grant projects. I don’t know him personally, but me and him were on the Island together years ago. He couldn’t have been no more than eighteen at the time, but even the old heads ain’t want no parts of his wild ass. Every time I turned around he was into some shit, cutting, fighting, arson—you name it and he’s tried it. King James was a goon before these rappers made the term popular,” Devil informed them.
“Shit, if he’s on it like that, maybe we need to put him on payroll,” Don B. joked.
“Good luck. The last nigga who tried to offer him a job ended up in the emergency room getting his jaw wired. Stay away from that kid, Don, because I’d hate to have to kill him. Violence is the only language an ignorant nigga like him understands,” Devil said seriously.
“Well, I can’t speak for that King James cat, but Zo is my li’l nigga and I invited him to the VIP to have a drink with us, so be easy, Devil,” Tone told him.
“Your invitation, your problem, Tone, just remember what I told you about them dudes.” Devil stalked off.
“That nigga is way too paranoid.” Tone shook his head.
“Well, his paranoia has kept me in one piece all this time so I trust his judgment. Now let’s go sip something.” Don B. threw his arm around his friend and caught up with the group.
* * *
“The more I see you work, the more I like you, kid,” Kat said to Porsha. She had shed her street clothes and was now wearing a see-through one-piece that was decorated with black paw prints.
“What’re you talking about?” Porsha gave her a devilish grin.
“Don’t play stupid with me, I saw you all up on Don B. Good choice.” Kat nodded in approval.
“I don’t chose, I get chosen,” Porsha capped.
“Whatever, bitch. I just know when you make your way up to the VIP to cut into that nigga you better take me with you. I heard all them cats from Big Dawg are handling major paper.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Porsha gave her a high five.
“Say, what happened to your little friend?” Kat asked. “I haven’t seen her since we got here.”
“She’s over there by the bar.” Porsha nodded to where she had left her at the bar. Sahara was still sitting there, but there was a dude in her face, grabbing her by the arm and barking on her. Sahara looked scared shitless. “Oh hell to the nah,” Porsha began, taking her earrings off.
“Calm down, P, and let’s go get security to handle this,” Kat urged her.
“You can go find security, I’m about to go see about my homegirl.” Porsha stormed off toward the bar. Kat sighed and fell in step behind her.
* * *
“King, it ain’t what it looks like,” Sahara tried to explain.
“Do I look stupid to you, Sahara?” King James questioned. “I spend my bread to spring you and ya homegirl from jail and catch you shaking your ass at a strip club a few hours later, what the fuck do you think it looks like?”
“King, you’re bugging. I keep trying to tell you that I ain’t in here stripping, I just came with my homegirl to keep her company.”
“Sahara, I ain’t just start playing this game. Nine times outta ten, if a bitch is in a strip club, she stripping!”
“Well, I’m not, and while you’re busy pointing fingers, what the fuck are you doing here? You told me you couldn’t chill with me because you had business to handle, but your ass is in here tricking,” Sahara shot back.
“First of all, this ain’t about me, and second of all, you of all people know I ain’t no trick, so knock it the fuck off. I am handling business; I got a meeting with some niggaz in here and once that’s done, I’m out.”
“Okay, cool. I’ll just chill until you’re done with your business and then we can leave together,” Sahara suggested.
“Nah, that ain’t gonna work,” King told her.
“Why not?”
“Because I said so! As a matter of fact, why the fuck am I even standing here going back and forth with you? Take your ass home and I’ll come by later.”
“I caught a ride here with somebody, and besides that I can’t just leave my homegirl like that,” Sahara told him.
King James wanted to spaz on Sahara, but he knew that if he did he’d end up spending half the night arguing with her, so he ran game. “Listen, this ain’t a good place for you to be tonight. Some shit may go down and I don’t want you getting caught up in it, baby girl.” He stroked her cheek affectionately. “Check it”—he pulled out his bankroll and peeled off two hundred dollars—“this should cover your taxi back to the city and be enough for you to pick up some piff on the way. Go home and I promise I’m gonna come spend the night with you, so we can bring in my birthday together.”
This brought a smile to Sahara’s face. “Do you mean it?”
“Of course I do, ma.” King had almost sealed the deal when Porsha and Kat rolled up on him like the vice squad.
“Everything good over here, Sahara?” Porsha was speaking to her friend but glaring at King James.
“Who the fuck are you supposed to be?” King looked at her comically.
“You don’t know me now, but if you keep trying to manhandle my friend you’re gonna get to know me,” Porsha shot back.
“Damn, baby, you’re a feisty one, ain’t you? Sahara, if you really wanna get me something nice for my birthday, then bring this li’l muthafucka home with you,” King joked.
“Why don’t you stop being such a dick.” Sahara rolled her eyes. “Everything is good, Porsha. This is King,” Sahara said, making the introduction.
“So this is the infamous King James, huh?” Porsha looked him up and down and her face said that she wasn’t impressed.
“Yes, this is him. Listen, Porsha, I hate to flat leave you like this but I gotta go back to the city,” Sahara told her.
“Why, is everything okay?” Porsha asked.
“Yeah, everything is cool, she’s just gotta get my birthday present ready,” King James answered for her. “Ain’t that right, boo?” He slapped her on the ass.
“I’m sorry, P,” Sahara said. She was clearly embarrassed by the whole situation and the way King James was openly eyeballing Porsha and Kat.
“Don’t sweat it, I know how it can be when duty calls,” Porsha told her. “How are you gonna get back to the city?”
“King gave me some bread so I’m gonna hop in a cab.” Sahara held up the hundreds.
“You sure, ma?”
“Yeah,” Sahara said, sounding unsure of her decision.
“Okay, I’ll see you back at the crib.” Porsha gave her friend a tight hug. “You make sure you text me to let me know you made it in safe, okay?”
“I got you,” Sahara assured her.
“C’mon, li’l ma, I’ll have one of the bouncers make sure you get in the cab safely.” Kat took Sahara by the arm and led her toward the exit, leaving King and Porsha alone at the bar.
“So you’re Sahara’s other roommate, huh?” King James eased closer to Porsha.
“Something like that,” Porsha said, while she busied herself straightening out her singles.
“Maybe I’ll see you around, then?”
Porsha stopped her counting and looked up at King. “Just because you’re a trifling asshole doesn’t mean that I am too, so I seriously doubt that.” She flipped her wig and sashayed off, with his eyes glued to her ass the whole way.
CHAPTER 28
After what felt like a trip OT, Sahara had finally made it back to the projects. The driver of the Green Cab that had brought her from Newark tried to charge her a hundred dollars and she told him to eat a dick. He looked like he wanted to get out of the taxi and argue about the money, but thought better of it when he saw the dark project building looming. He spat something at her in a language she didn’t understand, and Sahara flipped him the bird and kept it moving into the projects.
For the most part, the block was quiet for the weather to have been so nice at that time of night, when Sahara got out of the Green Cab on Columbus Avenue. There was a sprinkling of people still out and about but nobody that she fucked with like that, which meant that her night was officially dead, and she wasn’t happy about it.
She’d been having a good time at Brick City until King rolled in on his possessive bullshit. Sometimes Sahara thought it was cute when King laid down the law. It made her feel special that he was actually concerned enough about what she did and where she went, instead of like a jump-off, which is what she felt like sometimes. Like most men, King did his thing on the side, but he respected her enough not to flaunt it. She knew that she wasn’t King’s main chick, but she was making a strong push to earn that position, and nights like those came with the territory.
She’d been impressed and proud of Porsha at Brick City. They had worked together at a few clubs on the New York circuit so Sahara knew Porsha was no slouch, but there was something that stood out about her at Brick City that Sahara had never noticed before. In addition to being a bad chick, Porsha had the ability to capture the attention of a whole room without even trying, which made her a natural at the art of seduction. Sahara had done well for herself on the circuit too because of her exotic good looks, but she had never had the confidence that she saw in Porsha. Sahara knew her girl was having a ball at Brick City while she was going to find a DVD to watch, so she’d have to be content with getting all the dirty details from Porsha when she came home later that night.
As she was going into the building, Levi was struggling to get out. He had a computer monitor in his hands and a plastic bag hanging from his wrists with a bunch of wires hanging out. “Damn, what’s all that?” Sahara asked, holding the door for Levi.
“Thanks.” Levi stepped out. “Just some stuff I bought off Scatter from the ninth floor.”
“Levi, every time I see you you’re buying or trying to fix something electronic. What do you do with all that stuff?” Sahara asked.
“Come by the crib one of these days and I’ll show you,” he said slyly.
“Nigga, you got me fucked up thinking you’re gonna get me back to the crib so you can get my goodies. You must think I’m Boots,” she shot back.
Levi balanced the computer monitor on the fence. “Now of all the names to pull out of a hat, why that one?”
Sahara looked at Levi as if she couldn’t believe he was even asking. “Please, Boots is like a doorknob and all you niggaz have had a turn. Everybody except Bernie is hip to what time it is with her. Don’t act like you ain’t never been up in them guts.”
“Being the gentleman that I am, I can neither confirm nor deny your accusations. Catch you later, Sahara.” Levi scooped up his electronics and left.
“Only in the projects.” Sahara shook her head and went into the building.
She rounded the corner just in time to see Mitch slipping out of one of the first-floor apartments. He had a small pair of binoculars in his hand and a suspicious look on his face, which was nothing new. When he saw Sahara he stuffed the binoculars into his pocket and tried to act natural.
“What you doing creeping around in the middle of the night, Sahara?”
“I’m grown and grown people don’t creep, but I could ask you the same thing. What’s up with the binoculars?” she asked.
“Nothing, just fucking around,” Mitch lied.
“Coming outta Snoop’s apartment, I can believe that.”
Mitch looked at her as if she were crazy. “Don’t play yaself, I wouldn’t fuck that girl with my enemy’s dick.”
“Yeah, right. You and Scar will stick your dicks in anything wet.”
“Ain’t neither one of us stick our dicks in you yet,” he said slyly.
“And you never will, Negro,” Sahara capped and got on the elevator.
Sahara walked into her apartment and was greeted by silence, which was rare considering the hours her roommates kept. Of the three of them, Sahara was the only one who had a normal job, if you called working in a braid shop normal. It wasn’t the most glamorous job in the world, but she was good at it and for the most part she kept her bills paid. There was a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the kitchen counter, so she knew that Frankie had been there. She didn’t understand how Frankie turned her nose up at champagne but could down straight whiskey.
She went down the hall to give Frankie the rundown on what had happened but when she tried the knob to her bedroom door it was locked, which was unusual. Frankie never locked her door unless she was entertaining company and it had been months since she had come home with a man. Sahara knocked, but there was no answer. She listened to the door, but all was quiet. It was the middle of the night and there was no sign of Frankie, nor had she called, which made Sahara begin to worry.
“Where the hell is this girl at?” she wondered aloud.
* * *
Frankie leaned against a parked car in the parking lot behind her building, smoking a Newport and nervously watching everyone and everything around her. She had been a drug dealer for only a few hours and already her nerves were shot. How some people did it day in and day out was a mystery to her, and as soon as she scraped up the rent and Cutty’s money she was retiring.
After Lulu had finished cooking the coke for Frankie, she had taken it back to her apartment to start bagging it up, which turned out to be more work than she expected. Though the work Cutty had given her didn’t seem like much in its powder form, it was quite a bit once it was rocked up and chopped. Bagging it up had been a chore in itself, so she’d packaged half and stashed the rest in her bedroom. Armed with her product and a mission, Frankie took it to the streets.
Frankie wasn’t the only dealer in the hood, but she was the newest so she had to be mindful that she didn’t step on anyone’s toes. She knew from experience that hustlers could be very territorial over turf, and her being a woman didn’t help to tip the scales in her favor, so she had to keep a low profile about it. Her initial plan was to go to the other side of the projects and set up shop, but that plan went out the window when she heard that one of the buildings got raided. She knew the jump-out boys would be crawling all over the Amsterdam side so Columbus was probably the easiest place to do it. She chose the parking lot because it was familiar territory to her and it’d be hard for the police to trap her off if they rolled up. For an extra piece of rock Lulu had agreed to route some of her friends to Frankie’s location, so she was all set. Now all she had to do was get her product off without getting locked up.
Frankie spotted the shadows moving behind a parked car to her left and three words popped into her mind: stick-up kids. She quickly moved to the grass where she had her pistol hidden and prepared for battle. Her fingers had just wrapped around the grip of the gun when the person who had been creeping came into view. It was fiend from the next building over named Scatter. As usual, he was dressed in a wrinkled business suit and overcoat.
“Dude, you almost got popped creeping up on me like that,” Frankie said seriously.
“My bad, baby girl, but you know you gotta tread light when you walk on the wild side.” Scatter flashed a checkered grin. “You know, I thought Lulu was bullshitting me when she told me you were out here trapping.”
Frankie shrugged. “I’m just trying to do me.”
“So I see,” he said, scratching the side of his face. “Check it, though: I need some of that butter you laid on Lulu. She let me taste it and that shit is outta sight!”
“You like that, huh?” She smiled.
“‘Like’ is an understatement. Frankie, there ain’t been no rock out here like that in years. You got some boss shit on your hands, girlie. Play your cards right and you’re gonna be one rich muthafucka.”
“I ain’t trying to get rich off this shit, Scatter. I’m just trying to get where I need to be and I’m leaving this shit alone.”
“Well, if you ain’t out here trying to come up, what the hell are you doing out here hand-to-handing poison?” he asked.
“It’s like I told you: I’m trying to get where I need to be. I’m in and out like the Flash.”
“That’s what they all say.” Scatter laughed. “Frankie, normally I charge muthafuckas for my infinite wisdom, but since I like you I’m gonna lay some free game on ya ears. Selling drugs is an addiction that burns at both ends of the candle. The same way the addicts get addicted to the product, the pushers get addicted to the money.”
“Well, I don’t plan on doing this long enough to test that theory,” she told him. “Now are you gonna keep running your mouth or do you wanna get served?”
“Sho ya right, sho ya right. Let me get two of them thangs.” He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. Frankie dipped into her bra and handed Scatter two baggies, while taking his money with the other hand. When he held them to the light his eyes got wide. “Damn, these is some boulders. I like how you do business, Frankie.”
“No doubt, and make sure you spread the word to ya peoples that I’m out here. Offer only good while supplies last.”
“I got you.” He stuffed the baggies into his pocket and started to walk off, but stopped short. “Frankie, I know you gonna do what you do regardless of what I say, but let me leave you with something: if you playing for a quarter instead of the whole game, then you might as well stay on the bench, because if them people come calling you’re gonna get the same amount of time as a full-time player. I’m out.” Scatter shuffled back the way he had come.
Frankie was glad to see Scatter go. She had brushed him off, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words and they bothered her more than she let on. Frankie knew she had no business out there in the trap, but she felt like it was the quickest way to get what she needed. Suddenly the hairs on the back of her neck began to stand up and a nervous feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She turned around but didn’t see anybody else in the parking lot. She thought she saw the curtain in Snoop’s apartment window flutter, but all the lights were out. Before she could investigate further, another fiend rolled up to get served. She chalked it up as her nerves and went back to trapping.
