Eviction Notice, page 26
By the time they crossed the George Washington Bridge the sun was just about up. Don B. and Porsha had been so wrapped up in their conversation that neither of them had noticed how fast the time was flying. Don B. offered to take her to breakfast, which sounded like a great idea to Porsha, who had the munchies like you wouldn’t believe from all the weed they had smoked. They stopped at City Diner on Broadway, where they gorged on steak and eggs and continued talking until the sun was well up. Of course, when they left, Don B. cracked on Porsha for sex, but she shut him down. She expected him to show his true colors and get mad, but he was surprisingly cool about it. By the time he dropped her off in the projects, Porsha found herself head over heels in like with the superstar.
Before going upstairs to take it down for the day, Porsha decided to hit the supermarket up for some milk and a box of Cap’n Crunch. She was still full from breakfast but knew that by the time she woke up she was going to be starving all over again. She was making her way down the cereal aisle when she spotted Alonzo in the back, stacking canned goods. When they made eye contact she smiled and waved at him, but to her surprise he gave her his back and kept working as if he hadn’t seen her.
“What up, Zo?” Porsha approached him.
“Chilling,” he said over his shoulder, not bothering to look up from the crate of cans.
Porsha stepped around so that he had to face her. “Damn, what are you looking all sour about?”
“Ain’t nothing, had a rough night is all.” Alonzo’s tone was flat.
“Not the workhorse. I didn’t know you actually hung out, for as much time as you spend in here.”
“I get around, just like everybody else.” He looked her up and down, then went back to his cans.
“Alonzo, why are you acting like I kicked your dog or something?” Porsha asked.
“I’m good, shorty. Like I told you, it was a rough night. I went out with my brother and some of his friends last night and things got a little crazy.”
“Really? Where’d you go?”
“A li’l spot in Newark called Brick City. By the way, that was some li’l show you put on,” he said with an attitude.
Porsha now understood why he was throwing shade her way. “So you saw me dance, huh?”
“Among other things,” he capped. “I didn’t know you were that flexible.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Alonzo.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”
Porsha folded her arms. “Alonzo, I know you ain’t got an attitude because you saw me dancing?”
“No, I don’t have an attitude about anything. If you dance, sell pussy, or whatever the fuck it is that goes on in there, that’s your business. I ain’t got no papers on you,” he said a little sharper than he’d intended to.
Porsha’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Nigga, you got me fucked up. First of all, I don’t sell ass, I give it away freely to whomever I choose. And second of all, how dare you disrespect me like I’m some lowlife whore.”
“I didn’t call you a whore, I was just saying … Forget it.” Alonzo attempted to go back to stacking shelves, but Porsha spun him around to face her. There was a fury in her eyes that he had never seen before and it made him take a cautionary step back.
“Let me make a few things clear to you so there’s no misunderstanding between us. I don’t give a damn how broke I am, I would never degrade myself by selling my body for a few punk-ass dollars. Maybe you’re used to associating with those kinds of bitches, but I ain’t the one or the two. Yeah, I strip and I make no apologies for it. It isn’t the most respectable job, but that doesn’t give you a right to knock my hustle, especially when your ass is in here working in the supermarket. For as intelligent as you are, you’re in here wasting your life working in a supermarket instead of shooting for something bigger. I may be a stripper, but at least I’m out there trying, instead of settling. I do what I have to do to keep a roof over my head and food in my stomach, simple as that. And if you ain’t helping me pay those bills or feed myself, then it ain’t none of your fucking business.” She knocked over the cans he had just stacked. “Now judge that.” She stormed off down the aisle.
“Porsha,” he called after her, but she was long gone. Alonzo flopped down on the crate and sighed, watching the cans rolling around his feet. He hadn’t meant to come at Porsha so harshly, but his emotions took over his mouth and it ended up all bad. The twisted part about it was that he wasn’t sure if he was angrier at Porsha for being a stripper or at himself for what he had been dumb enough to walk into at Brick City.
He hadn’t slept a wink all night because every time he closed his eyes he saw blood. Allowing a stripper to lead him into an alley alone was a novice mistake and he knew better. Being away from the streets for so long had dulled his instincts, but that situation had been a case of not exercising common sense. Had it not been for Ashanti, he would’ve been the one bleeding out onto the cracked Newark streets instead of those two kids.
The boy’s face was still as vivid in his mind as it had been the night before in the alley. Once the gun had been removed from the equation, the tough-guy exterior had faded and he’d been little more than a frightened kid. Alonzo tried to feel bad for what he had done, but he couldn’t. Alonzo had carved him up so bad that he wasn’t sure whether he had killed him or not, and at that point it really didn’t make a difference. The truth of the matter was that the moment that boy had picked up a gun and decided to try to rob Alonzo, he had ceased to be a child and stepped into the realm of grown men, so he’d been dealt with accordingly.
“Alonzo, those cans aren’t gonna pick themselves up.” The manager, Mr. Green, hovered over him.
“I’m on it, Mr. Green,” Alonzo told him.
“Then get to it, chop, chop.” Mr. Green clapped his hands and walked away.
As Alonzo stood there looking at Mr. Green’s departing back he was tempted to hurl one of the cans at him, but getting fired wouldn’t help things. While he knelt to pick up the cans, Porsha’s words came back to him and he couldn’t help but wonder if he really was just settling.
CHAPTER 36
“You plan on sleeping all day, or are you ready to rejoin the land of the living?” Sahara stuck her head into Frankie’s bedroom.
Frankie removed the pillow from her head and looked around groggily. She felt like she had just gone to sleep. “What time is it?”
Sahara checked her watch. “Two thirty. What time did you creep in here last night?”
“Late,” Frankie said, sitting up.
“Must’ve been superlate because I came in about one and you still weren’t here. Where were you?”
“You don’t even wanna know.” Frankie wiped the cold from her eyes. She had been in the parking lot for most of the night selling crack, but it had been a slow grind. Fiends had come sporadically to cop from her, but she hadn’t been able to get that steady flow. No matter, when the sun went down today she planned to get back to it. When Frankie yawned, her nose was assaulted by the smell of something frying, which made her stomach growl. “Damn, what you cooking?”
“Just some wings and fries. I made enough for you if you want some,” Sahara offered.
“Hell yeah.” Frankie stretched.
“Then get your ass up and come in the living room because I sure as hell ain’t serving you,” Sahara told her.
“A’ight, let me roll up first.”
“Ew, at least brush your teeth before you put your mouth on the Dutch,” Sahara teased her.
“Fuck you, Sahara. Ain’t no telling what you had your skank-ass mouth wrapped around last night.”
“Wherever I had my mouth, please believe it was minty fresh.” Sahara let out a breath.
“Girl, you stupid.” Frankie laughed. “Speaking of skanks, is Porsha up?”
Sahara shrugged. “The hell if I know. I ain’t seen her since I left her in Brick City last night.”
Frankie frowned. “Brick City, ain’t that a strip joint or something?”
“‘Or something’ is right. Girl, we had it popping in there last night!”
“You went to a strip club with Porsha? I have got to hear this story.” Frankie tossed off the covers and sat up. It was then she realized that she was still fully dressed. She was so tired she must’ve crashed without getting undressed.
Sahara looked her up and down. “Did you sleep in your clothes? Shit, looks like I ain’t the only one with a story to tell. C’mon, let’s get high so we can exchange gossip and bust these wings down.”
* * *
The first thing Porsha noticed when she walked in was the smell of fried chicken, which told her that Sahara was home. The girl had her flaws, but knowing her way around the kitchen wasn’t one of them. She propped her roll-on against the wall near the front door and made her way into the living room, where Sahara and Frankie were eating chicken wings and engaged in a deep conversation. From the way they both went silent, Porsha knew that she had been the topic.
“I knew my ears were ringing for a reason,” Porsha greeted her roommates.
“Wasn’t nobody talking about you,” Sahara lied.
“Where ya been, Penny?” Frankie did her Chip Fields impersonation.
“Girl, I had a wild night.” Porsha flopped on the couch.
“And a wilder morning from the looks of your hair,” Sahara joked.
“I know you ain’t talking.” Porsha looked at the mop on Sahara’s head before snatching one of her chicken wings. “So is King still here sleeping it off, or did he bounce already?” When Sahara didn’t answer, Porsha knew what it was. “Don’t tell me he stood you up again?”
“It wasn’t like that, Porsha, he called me and told me he couldn’t make it. Something came up,” Sahara lied. She hadn’t seen or heard from King since she’d left Brick City. She’d been calling and texting him all night and morning and he still hadn’t hit her back.
“Um-hm.” Porsha saw right through the lie. This wasn’t the first time King had left Sahara hanging and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
“So how was Brick City?” Frankie asked.
“Girl, it was off the chain!” Porsha went on to tell them of her adventures at Brick City and her morning with Don B.
“I can’t believe you spent the morning with Don B.” Frankie was surprised.
“And didn’t fuck him,” Sahara added.
“Sahara, why does everything have to be about sex with you?” Porsha rolled her eyes.
“It ain’t just about sex, it’s about sex and money, and ya boy Don B. has got plenty of it,” Sahara said. “So are you gonna fuck him?”
“Sahara!”
“I’m just saying, P, I’d fuck him if I had the chance.”
“You’d fuck anything with a pulse, loose ass,” Frankie cracked.
“At least my pipes ain’t clogged. When was the last time you got dicked down again?” Sahara rolled her neck.
“Okay, okay, you two cats retract your claws. I’m in a good mood and I don’t need y’all blowing it.”
“Listen to you sounding like a love-struck puppy.” Sahara pinched Porsha’s cheek.
Porsha swatted her hand away. “Quit playing. Ain’t nobody loving nothing. I just think Don B. is cool peoples.”
“With a healthy bank account,” Sahara added.
“Yes, gold digger, with a healthy bank account. I can’t even front them dudes was in the spot blowing wild paper, and don’t even get me started on his ride. I ain’t never seen a Hummer tricked out like his. I felt like I was riding in a spaceship on the way uptown.”
“Well, don’t let yourself float too far into orbit fucking with Don B.,” Frankie told her.
“And what do you mean by that?”
“I mean have fun, but don’t get too caught up with that cat. I heard some real foul stories about Don B. on the streets,” Frankie warned.
“Like what?” Porsha questioned.
“Like he’s a dog, treats women like shit. My homegirl’s sister used to fuck with him back in the days before he blew up and she said he treated her like the shit on the bottom of his shoe.”
Porsha sucked her teeth. “You know how bitches be hating. She’s probably just mad that she missed the train when he was on his way to the top. Don B. was a perfect gentleman when we hung out.”
“And so was Jeffery Dahmer until he got them muthafuckas in his crib and started snacking on them,” Frankie countered. “Porsha, I ain’t trying to tell you not to fuck with him, just go into the situation with your eyes open, feel me?”
“Yeah,” Porsha said, not really paying her any mind. She had heard her share of stories about Don B. too, but he was a star so a little baggage was to be expected. She wasn’t stupid enough to go into the situation with Don B. expecting some great love affair, but she liked his company and would see for herself what he was about instead of letting rumors and haters influence her decision. “I’m tired as hell, I just wanna put something on my stomach and lay down.”
“Yeah, get your beauty sleep because the party continues tonight,” Sahara said excitedly.
“What the hell is going on tonight?” Frankie asked.
Sahara rolled her eyes. “King’s surprise party, remember?”
“Shit, you did mention something about that. I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make it though, Sahara. I got something to do,” Frankie said, thinking about the rest of the crack she had stashed in her bedroom.
“That makes two of us,” Porsha said.
Sahara looked back and forth between them. “I know y’all ain’t serious? What do y’all have to do that’s so damn important?”
“I’m working on getting my end of the rent money up. We only got a few more days before they try to toss us out on our asses,” Frankie reminded them.
Sahara turned to Porsha. “And what’s your excuse?”
“I’ve got a date with Don B.”
“So bring him with you. He’ll probably know half of the criminal muthafuckas in there anyway.”
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea.”
“And why not? Your little rapper boyfriend too good to hang out with us common folk?” Sahara asked with an attitude.
Porsha thought about keeping it real with her friend and telling her how King had tried to push up on her, but she didn’t want to hurt her feelings so she lied. “It’s not like that, but he’s taking me to a movie screening and then dinner and I’m not sure what time everything will be over. I’ll call you and see if the party is still popping after we eat.”
“You bitches are so whack.” Sahara got off the couch and pouted like a child. “That’s alright, I don’t need y’all to have a good time. I can party like a rock star by myself.” Sahara stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door.
“Damn, now I feel bad,” Frankie said.
“Shit, I don’t.” Porsha took the blunt clip out of the ashtray. “King is an asshole and I ain’t feeling him.” Porsha lit the clip and went on to tell Frankie the story of how King had tried to hit on her in the club.
“That’s some dirty shit.” Frankie shook her head sadly.
“Tell me about it; but you know if I try to bring it to Sahara she’s gonna get mad at me instead of him, so I’m gonna sit back and watch it unfold.” Porsha exhaled the smoke and passed the weed to Frankie. “I’m about to check my e-mails before I lay down.” She fired up the laptop that was sitting on the coffee table. As she was scrolling through her e-mails she accidentally opened one that she was trying to delete. It was a pop-up from a pornographic Web site called BrownGirls.com, which boasted that it was one of the most widely watched African-American amateur porn sites. “Some people have too much free time on their hands.”
Frankie looked over Porsha’s shoulder at the video image of a girl getting fucked in the ass. “Damn, that looks painful.”
“I tried it once and never again,” Porsha told her. As she stared at the video she couldn’t help thinking that she had seen the girl somewhere. “I think I know this chick, Frankie. I might have seen her dancing at one of the clubs.”
Frankie studied the girl’s face and she recognized her too. “Nah, that ain’t no stripper, that’s a ho.” She laughed, but Porsha didn’t seem to get the joke. “Porsha, look real close and tell me where we know that skinny bitch from.”
Porsha stared at the video, racking her brain trying to place the girl. It wasn’t until the girl faced the camera to receive the come-shot that it hit her. “Oh shit, that’s Faye!”
“It sure is, in all her skank-ass glory.”
“Damn, I knew she was a jump-off, but I didn’t know she’d taken it this far.” Porsha leaned in closer to the screen. “The way she was taking that dick, I don’t know if I’m mad at her or proud of her.”
“That bitch is just nasty.” Frankie shook her head.
“Ain’t no doubt about that, but who put her ass on this Web site?”
* * *
“Boy, Levi, I wish you could’ve seen her face when Porsha rolled up on us. I thought the girl was gonna shit her pants,” Happy said, taking another bite of his egg roll. He and Levi sat on the bench in front of 875, enjoying the weather and trading war stories.
“I can only imagine,” Levi said, lighting a cigarette. “What I can’t understand is why Boots thinks that the fact that she’s a jump-off is a secret.”
Happy shrugged his broad shoulders. “Beats the hell outta me. Everybody and they mama knows that girl’s snatch is open for business twenty-four/seven. Well, everybody except Bernie.”
“Let me tell you something.” Levi blew a cloud of smoke into the air. “The day that nigga finally figures it out is the day he’s going to jail for the rest of his life.”
“You ain’t never lied, because he’s sure as hell gonna kill her, if he don’t kill himself first.” Happy laughed.
