Eviction Notice, page 31
“Speaking of Duhan, have you heard from him lately?” Gucci asked.
“Hell no and I don’t wanna hear from him. He called me a few times when they shipped him upstate to try and make it right, but I ain’t beat for that shit. I changed my number and had the collect calls blocked.”
“That’s fucked up, T. I know shit went sour with y’all, but that’s still Duhan and Duran’s dad. He should at least be able to speak to his kids.”
“Shit, they know how to read and write. If he was that worried about being in his kids’ lives, then he wouldn’t have gotten his simple ass thrown in jail in the first place.”
“But you didn’t feel like that when you were balling out of control,” Gucci pointed out.
“Listen, I didn’t put no gun to Duhan’s head and tell him to take it to the street, that’s something he chose to do on his own, and I just reaped the benefits of that. After I laid up and had them babies for him, what I got was owed to me.”
“You sure did get what was owed to you.” Gucci snickered.
“Very fucking funny.”
The two girls hiked the rest of the way, reminiscing and trading insults. Though Gucci and Tionna argued more often than they didn’t, neither of them could deny the fact that it felt good to be hanging out with each other again. They rounded the corner of the block where the club was located and were pleasantly surprised by what they saw. Because of the location they had expected it to be a hood spot, but the club actually looked pretty nice. There were a few luxury cars double-parked out front with guys and girls mingling before they headed into the club. When Tionna and Gucci came into view, everyone did a double take.
Tionna checked her makeup in her small compact mirror while Gucci put her shoes back on. “So what’s up, you ready to turn this joint out or what?”
“Honey, I was born ready. Let’s go show these bitches that the queens of Harlem have returned.” Gucci flipped her hair and led the way inside.
* * *
Alonzo sat at the bar, nursing a Hennessy and Coke and wondering for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing there. He had had one of the worse days at work, starting with the argument with Porsha. He hadn’t meant to come off on her like he had, but once he’d opened his mouth the words had started spilling out and he couldn’t stop them. He knew he had hurt her feelings and felt horrible about it, but there was nothing that he could do about it at that point. He intended to apologize to her when he saw her again, but Porsha had been MIA since then.
Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, two crackheads decided to start fighting in the supermarket. They managed to knock over a whole rack of jelly and of course Mr. Green called on Alonzo to clean it up. He had to mop the aisle four times before he finally managed to get the floor to stop sticking. On top of all that, one of the cashiers called in sick so Alonzo had to work through lunch, covering for her on the register. By the end of his eight-hour shift, which had turned into ten hours, Alonzo was too through. He needed to blow off some serious steam and Lakim had just the trick: King James’s birthday party. At first Alonzo was going to pass, but he figured it beat sitting in the house all night. So once again he found himself in the company of wolves, feeling like a German shepherd.
Lakim rolled up behind Alonzo and draped his arm around him. “What up, kid, you good?”
“Yeah, I’m straight. Just came over here to get a drink.” Alonzo nodded at the half-full glass.
“Nigga, why you over here blowing your bread and we got all kinda bottles popping in our section?”
“I just wanted to get some space for a minute, ya know?”
Lakim sucked his teeth. “Man, fuck all that, you amongst family, my G. It’s a party going on and you over here looking all stressed out. What’s good with that, somebody fucking with you or something?”
“Nah, it ain’t nothing like that. I just had a rough day at work,” Alonzo explained.
“The man still got his foot knee deep in your ass, huh? I keep telling you fuck that supermarket shit. You need to come get this money with us.”
“Lakim, I’ll leave the trap to y’all, you know I ain’t off that no more,” Alonzo reminded him.
“C’mon, sun. You think I’d have my baby bro in harm’s way? I ain’t talking about putting you on no fucking corners, I’m talking about upper management. We’ll give you your own spot and you run it as you see fit.”
“I’m good, La.”
“A’ight, but when you get tired of lugging boxes for that cracker you know big bro got you, fam.”
“Break yoself, blood.” Ashanti interrupted their conversation. His eyes were glassy and he reeked of alcohol and weed. Because of his age he had never been in a club before, and shouldn’t have been in that one, but Lakim had pulled some strings and gotten the manager to look the other way.
“I keep telling you about that ‘blood’ shit,” Lakim warned.
“Chill, B, you know I don’t mean no disrespect by that. I call you blood cuz you my family,” Ashanti half slurred. “Man, I ain’t never seen this many hos in one spot at one time.” Fascinated, he looked around at the women moving about the club.
“I told you, fucking with us, your lifestyle was gonna change. This ain’t shit, wait until we really start balling and then you’ll see why we’re the winning team,” Lakim promised.
“Shorty, let me get another shot of Patrón.” Ashanti banged on the bar top.
Lakim pulled him away from the bar. “Chill the fuck out, sun. You need water more than you need a drink right now.” Lakim slid away the shot the bartender had just set down and requested a bottle of water for Ashanti. “Here, nigga, flush that li’l kidney of yours.” He handed Ashanti the water.
Ashanti reluctantly accepted the water, but once he began chugging it he felt his head start to clear. His eyes wandered around the club and he spotted two familiar faces coming down the stairs to the club area. “Oh shit, look at these muthafuckas.” He nodded at the two girls.
Lakim’s eyes zeroed in on the girls and he began licking his lips. “Damn, shorty in the green can get it!”
“Show some respect, nigga. I know her.” Ashanti put the water on the bar and made his way across the room.
* * *
“This spot is a’ight.” Gucci nodded in approval, taking in the stylish decor of the place.
“I told you that it had to be something special if Marlene and them were partying here. Speaking of Marlene, I wonder if she’s here yet.” Tionna looked around. “Fuck it, I’ll text her in a minute to see where she’s at. You wanna get a drink?”
“Sure, if you’re paying,” Gucci said.
“That’s a bet. First round is on me.” Tionna led the way to the bar.
It didn’t take long for the vultures to swoop in, trying to invade Tionna and Gucci’s space. Most of them were locals so they didn’t get any play. After swatting hands, sidestepping guys, and cursing a few out, they finally made it to the bar. There were no seats, but two dudes gave up theirs, thinking that it would earn them the favor of the young ladies, but all it did was get them dismissed once the ladies were planted on their seats. Tionna ordered two Hennessy and Red Bulls for them and enjoyed the scenery.
“Damn, I’d almost forgotten how thirsty niggaz uptown could be,” Gucci said, ignoring a dude at the other end of the bar who was trying to get her attention.
“That’s the price we pay for being young, fly, and pretty.” Tionna winked.
“You ain’t never lied,” Gucci said. She felt someone touch her arm and spun around, ready to curse out whoever it was who had touched her uninvited. The frown on her face turned into a smile when she saw that it was Ashanti. She almost didn’t recognize him all clean-cut in his button-up and soft-bottom shoes. But for as grown-up as he was dressed, the red bandanna tucked into his shirt pocket said there was still a lot of kid in him.
“What’s good, ma.” He greeted Gucci with a hug.
“Hey, Ashanti!” she said happily. “I haven’t seen you in a minute, what you been up to?”
Ashanti shrugged. “Not much, just trying to make it.”
“You staying out of trouble?”
“As best I can, but you know how that goes.”
Gucci laughed. “Still the same li’l badass Ashanti, huh?”
“I’m a trap boy for life,” he said honestly.
“Ain’t you a li’l young to be in here?” Tionna asked.
“Age is a small thing when you’re rolling with big boys,” Ashanti boasted.
“So you’re getting your weight up, huh?” Tionna looked him up and down. It had been a while since Tionna had seen Ashanti and he was growing up to be quite handsome.
“Back off, cougar. Fifteen will get you twenty,” Gucci said playfully.
“Stop hating, Gucci. I’ll be eighteen in a few months. So what’s good, T?”
“Ashanti, you need to quit. Tionna’s old ass will eat you alive,” Gucci tried to tell him.
“Gucci, we’re less than a year apart so if I’m old, what does that make you?”
“Still younger than you,” Gucci shot back.
Ashanti shook his head. “Y’all are still crazy as hell.”
“And you’re still in places that you have no place being,” Gucci told him. “Who are you in here with, Brasco and them?”
“Nah, my nigga B-Sco locked up and I don’t see Nef too much no more,” Ashanti said in a saddened tone.
“Brasco stay locked up.”
“You know how it is when you’re in the life, Gucci. We take the good with the bad.”
“Yeah and it’s mostly bad,” she pointed out. “Ashanti, I sure wish you would get up outta these streets and go back to school. You’re still young enough to do something with your life.”
Ashanti laughed. “What life? My family doesn’t want me and the system can’t hold me. The one nigga who did love me is gone.” When Ashanti said it he saw hurt flash across Gucci’s face. “I’m sorry, Gucci, I know that’s still a sore spot for you. How are you holding up?”
“I’m working through it one day at a time. Some days are easier than others.”
“True story.” Ashanti looked down at his shoes. “You know”—when he raised his head, his eyes were misty—“I ain’t never known no good in my life. From my mama pimping me out when I was a baby to having to fight every day of my life because I’m so small, people have always treated me like shit unless I was able to benefit them, but it wasn’t like that with my nigga Animal. Even when that dude didn’t have shit I could still get half of it, ain’t too many niggaz built like that no more. On the real, if I ever found the niggaz who got at him…” His emotions overcame him and he couldn’t find the words.
“It’s okay, Ashanti.” Gucci rubbed his back. “I know, trust me I know.”
The guy who had been at the other end of the bar trying to get Gucci’s attention finally got up the courage to come over. His timing couldn’t have been worse. “What’s good, can I holla at you for a minute?” He was a dark-skinned kid with bad skin, dressed in a fake Polo shirt and some ugly brown shoes.
“Now is not a good time,” Tionna told him.
“My fault, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just trying to see if I could buy the lady a drink. She looks like she could use it,” he said pleasantly.
“Can’t you see we’re having a moment? Have some fucking respect,” Ashanti snapped.
“Chill, shorty, I wasn’t trying to come over here and fuck up your groove,” the guy told him.
When Ashanti heard the word shorty, his Napoleon complex and the liquor kicked in. “Who the fuck you calling shorty, you trying to play me?”
“C’mon, B, you bugging right now. Calm that big-man shit down.” The kid waved Ashanti off.
“You’re a tough guy, huh?” Ashanti folded his hands behind his back. Nobody but Tionna saw that he had just pulled a gun out of his pants. “How about if I smack the shit outta you for talking slick?”
“What?” The kid moved in on him. Ashanti’s arm had started inching from behind his back when Lakim grabbed him by the wrist.
“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink. Maybe you should go kick back for a minute,” Lakim whispered in Ashanti’s ear.
“A’ight, La,” Ashanti said, but kept his eyes on the kid he’d been arguing with. “Gucci, Tionna, Ima catch up with you later on.” He backed through the crowd, still glaring at the kid.
“That li’l boy just got saved for a good ass whipping,” the kid boasted.
Lakim took a sip of his Corona and made eye contact with the kid. “You having a good time at my man’s party?”
“Yeah, this shit is real live.” The kid smiled. The smile faded when Lakim broke the bottle on the bar and placed the jagged end to the kid’s throat.
He grabbed the kid roughly by the face and pressed the broken end into the kid’s Adam’s apple. “You fucking faggot, I should open you up for trying to disrespect my li’l man!”
“I’m sorry.” The kid gasped.
“One sorry muthafucka.” Lakim poked him. “Get the fuck outta here before I kill you.” He shoved the kid. Lakim grabbed a napkin from the bar and began wiping the excess beer from his hands. He felt Gucci’s and Tionna’s eyes on him. “You ladies enjoy the rest of the party.” He tossed the napkin onto the bar and walked off.
Gucci had a mortified look on her face, but Tionna was smiling from ear to ear. “I know you don’t think that shit is funny?” Gucci asked.
“Nah, I was just wondering if he was seeing anybody.”
Gucci shook her head. “I can’t take yo ass nowhere.”
“Hater.” Tionna sipped her drink. She looked over near the entrance and saw Marlene walk in accompanied by several men dressed in business suits. “There’s Marlene. Come on, let me introduce you.” Tionna grabbed Gucci by the hand and led her across the room.
CHAPTER 44
Porsha’s night with Don B. felt like a dream. Don B. treated her to dinner at a French restaurant uptown that she’d had no idea even existed. It was a cute little spot not far from St. Luke’s Hospital and had a beautiful view of the park. The menu was in French, so Porsha had some difficulty figuring out what she wanted to eat, but to her surprise Don B. was able to translate it. His French wasn’t very good, but he knew enough to place their order.
After dinner they headed downtown to the movie screening. It was a modest theater on the Lower East Side that showed mostly foreign films and critically acclaimed independents, but they shut it down for the night for the screening. It was a forty-minute short called From Harlem With Love, which was written and directed by a young writer from Harlem whom Don B. had grown up with. When Porsha saw the melting pot of people who turned out for the screening, she assumed it was going to be some Euro-type film that she couldn’t get into, but it was actually pretty good. It was centered around a dude from the neighborhood who had gone on a killing spree. Porsha cried during the scene when the main character’s girlfriend fell to an assassin’s bullet that was meant for him.
After the screening there was a meet and greet for the cast and crew a few blocks away at a small restaurant. Porsha felt slightly out of her element, listening to the conversations about movies that she had never seen and books that she had no interest in, but she did her best not to embarrass Don B. with her ignorance. She got roped into a discussion with a group of producers from Europe, who seemed to have more than a passing fascination with her. One guy in particular, who had had one too many glasses of wine, fawned over Porsha, telling her how pretty she was and how he wanted to use her in his next film. She knew he was talking out of his ass, but it felt good to hear.
When asked what she did, Porsha said simply that she was in the entertainment field and didn’t elaborate any further.
Don B. seemed right at home seemingly so far out of his element. It was amazing to her how he could turn his hood persona on and off as needed to blend in with the different crowds. Porsha mostly played the sidelines but it seemed like every few minutes Don B. was introducing her to this one and that one who was involved either with the film or with some other aspect of the industry. When Don B. announced that they were leaving, no one wanted to see them go, including Porsha. She was having a good time, but Don B. promised that the night would only get better, so she went along.
“What’d you think?” Don B. asked when they were back in the car.
“I had a great time. Your friends were so nice and they really seemed supportive of your friend’s film,” Porsha said.
“Stop fronting. Those were a bunch of dry-ass crackers who wouldn’t have wiped their asses with that script if the Don wasn’t backing it. They don’t give a fuck about us or the stories that come out of our communities.”
Porsha was confused. “So if you really don’t like these people, why were you in there all smiley and stuff?”
“Because it’s good business. For as big of cocksuckers as those guys are, they’re also very influential. The connections they have can open doors that might otherwise be closed to me and help take Big Dawg to the next level, so I play the game.”
“Sounds like the game is phony to me.”
“As a three-dollar bill, but business ain’t about keeping it real, it’s about keeping it profitable. After you’ve been around for a while you’ll have figured it out.”
“Oh, so you plan on keeping me around for a while, huh?”
Don B. looked at her. “I’d be a fool to let a catch like you get away, ma. You’ve been chosen; now let’s see if you make the cut.”
“I hear that hot shit.” Porsha cut her eyes at him. “So, where are we off to now?”
“A friend of mine is having a li’l thing out in Brooklyn Heights. I figured we’d slide through there for a hot sec and have a few drinks. Besides, I need to holla at him about something.”
Porsha frowned. “Brooklyn Heights? Ain’t no clubs out there so what is it, a house party or something?”
“Or something,” he said and turned his attention back to the road.
* * *
What Don B. took Porsha to was anything but your average house party. His friend Tone owned a beautiful three-story house with a view of the bridge. When Don B. pulled up with Porsha on his arm, people treated them like the king and queen of the music industry. He led her through the long hallway to the living room, giving her the 411 on all the plaques that lined Tone’s wall. People milled about in the spacious living room with its high ceilings and glass furniture, drinking and smoking weed and engaging in a few other activities. There were a few heavyweights from the New York music scene there, and she thought she might’ve recognized an athlete or two. No matter who they were, they all paid homage to Don B. and the lady on his arm. Porsha caught a little shade from a few of the video hos in attendance but that just made her throw it extra hard as she crossed the room.
“Hell no and I don’t wanna hear from him. He called me a few times when they shipped him upstate to try and make it right, but I ain’t beat for that shit. I changed my number and had the collect calls blocked.”
“That’s fucked up, T. I know shit went sour with y’all, but that’s still Duhan and Duran’s dad. He should at least be able to speak to his kids.”
“Shit, they know how to read and write. If he was that worried about being in his kids’ lives, then he wouldn’t have gotten his simple ass thrown in jail in the first place.”
“But you didn’t feel like that when you were balling out of control,” Gucci pointed out.
“Listen, I didn’t put no gun to Duhan’s head and tell him to take it to the street, that’s something he chose to do on his own, and I just reaped the benefits of that. After I laid up and had them babies for him, what I got was owed to me.”
“You sure did get what was owed to you.” Gucci snickered.
“Very fucking funny.”
The two girls hiked the rest of the way, reminiscing and trading insults. Though Gucci and Tionna argued more often than they didn’t, neither of them could deny the fact that it felt good to be hanging out with each other again. They rounded the corner of the block where the club was located and were pleasantly surprised by what they saw. Because of the location they had expected it to be a hood spot, but the club actually looked pretty nice. There were a few luxury cars double-parked out front with guys and girls mingling before they headed into the club. When Tionna and Gucci came into view, everyone did a double take.
Tionna checked her makeup in her small compact mirror while Gucci put her shoes back on. “So what’s up, you ready to turn this joint out or what?”
“Honey, I was born ready. Let’s go show these bitches that the queens of Harlem have returned.” Gucci flipped her hair and led the way inside.
* * *
Alonzo sat at the bar, nursing a Hennessy and Coke and wondering for the hundredth time what the hell he was doing there. He had had one of the worse days at work, starting with the argument with Porsha. He hadn’t meant to come off on her like he had, but once he’d opened his mouth the words had started spilling out and he couldn’t stop them. He knew he had hurt her feelings and felt horrible about it, but there was nothing that he could do about it at that point. He intended to apologize to her when he saw her again, but Porsha had been MIA since then.
Just when he thought things couldn’t get any worse, two crackheads decided to start fighting in the supermarket. They managed to knock over a whole rack of jelly and of course Mr. Green called on Alonzo to clean it up. He had to mop the aisle four times before he finally managed to get the floor to stop sticking. On top of all that, one of the cashiers called in sick so Alonzo had to work through lunch, covering for her on the register. By the end of his eight-hour shift, which had turned into ten hours, Alonzo was too through. He needed to blow off some serious steam and Lakim had just the trick: King James’s birthday party. At first Alonzo was going to pass, but he figured it beat sitting in the house all night. So once again he found himself in the company of wolves, feeling like a German shepherd.
Lakim rolled up behind Alonzo and draped his arm around him. “What up, kid, you good?”
“Yeah, I’m straight. Just came over here to get a drink.” Alonzo nodded at the half-full glass.
“Nigga, why you over here blowing your bread and we got all kinda bottles popping in our section?”
“I just wanted to get some space for a minute, ya know?”
Lakim sucked his teeth. “Man, fuck all that, you amongst family, my G. It’s a party going on and you over here looking all stressed out. What’s good with that, somebody fucking with you or something?”
“Nah, it ain’t nothing like that. I just had a rough day at work,” Alonzo explained.
“The man still got his foot knee deep in your ass, huh? I keep telling you fuck that supermarket shit. You need to come get this money with us.”
“Lakim, I’ll leave the trap to y’all, you know I ain’t off that no more,” Alonzo reminded him.
“C’mon, sun. You think I’d have my baby bro in harm’s way? I ain’t talking about putting you on no fucking corners, I’m talking about upper management. We’ll give you your own spot and you run it as you see fit.”
“I’m good, La.”
“A’ight, but when you get tired of lugging boxes for that cracker you know big bro got you, fam.”
“Break yoself, blood.” Ashanti interrupted their conversation. His eyes were glassy and he reeked of alcohol and weed. Because of his age he had never been in a club before, and shouldn’t have been in that one, but Lakim had pulled some strings and gotten the manager to look the other way.
“I keep telling you about that ‘blood’ shit,” Lakim warned.
“Chill, B, you know I don’t mean no disrespect by that. I call you blood cuz you my family,” Ashanti half slurred. “Man, I ain’t never seen this many hos in one spot at one time.” Fascinated, he looked around at the women moving about the club.
“I told you, fucking with us, your lifestyle was gonna change. This ain’t shit, wait until we really start balling and then you’ll see why we’re the winning team,” Lakim promised.
“Shorty, let me get another shot of Patrón.” Ashanti banged on the bar top.
Lakim pulled him away from the bar. “Chill the fuck out, sun. You need water more than you need a drink right now.” Lakim slid away the shot the bartender had just set down and requested a bottle of water for Ashanti. “Here, nigga, flush that li’l kidney of yours.” He handed Ashanti the water.
Ashanti reluctantly accepted the water, but once he began chugging it he felt his head start to clear. His eyes wandered around the club and he spotted two familiar faces coming down the stairs to the club area. “Oh shit, look at these muthafuckas.” He nodded at the two girls.
Lakim’s eyes zeroed in on the girls and he began licking his lips. “Damn, shorty in the green can get it!”
“Show some respect, nigga. I know her.” Ashanti put the water on the bar and made his way across the room.
* * *
“This spot is a’ight.” Gucci nodded in approval, taking in the stylish decor of the place.
“I told you that it had to be something special if Marlene and them were partying here. Speaking of Marlene, I wonder if she’s here yet.” Tionna looked around. “Fuck it, I’ll text her in a minute to see where she’s at. You wanna get a drink?”
“Sure, if you’re paying,” Gucci said.
“That’s a bet. First round is on me.” Tionna led the way to the bar.
It didn’t take long for the vultures to swoop in, trying to invade Tionna and Gucci’s space. Most of them were locals so they didn’t get any play. After swatting hands, sidestepping guys, and cursing a few out, they finally made it to the bar. There were no seats, but two dudes gave up theirs, thinking that it would earn them the favor of the young ladies, but all it did was get them dismissed once the ladies were planted on their seats. Tionna ordered two Hennessy and Red Bulls for them and enjoyed the scenery.
“Damn, I’d almost forgotten how thirsty niggaz uptown could be,” Gucci said, ignoring a dude at the other end of the bar who was trying to get her attention.
“That’s the price we pay for being young, fly, and pretty.” Tionna winked.
“You ain’t never lied,” Gucci said. She felt someone touch her arm and spun around, ready to curse out whoever it was who had touched her uninvited. The frown on her face turned into a smile when she saw that it was Ashanti. She almost didn’t recognize him all clean-cut in his button-up and soft-bottom shoes. But for as grown-up as he was dressed, the red bandanna tucked into his shirt pocket said there was still a lot of kid in him.
“What’s good, ma.” He greeted Gucci with a hug.
“Hey, Ashanti!” she said happily. “I haven’t seen you in a minute, what you been up to?”
Ashanti shrugged. “Not much, just trying to make it.”
“You staying out of trouble?”
“As best I can, but you know how that goes.”
Gucci laughed. “Still the same li’l badass Ashanti, huh?”
“I’m a trap boy for life,” he said honestly.
“Ain’t you a li’l young to be in here?” Tionna asked.
“Age is a small thing when you’re rolling with big boys,” Ashanti boasted.
“So you’re getting your weight up, huh?” Tionna looked him up and down. It had been a while since Tionna had seen Ashanti and he was growing up to be quite handsome.
“Back off, cougar. Fifteen will get you twenty,” Gucci said playfully.
“Stop hating, Gucci. I’ll be eighteen in a few months. So what’s good, T?”
“Ashanti, you need to quit. Tionna’s old ass will eat you alive,” Gucci tried to tell him.
“Gucci, we’re less than a year apart so if I’m old, what does that make you?”
“Still younger than you,” Gucci shot back.
Ashanti shook his head. “Y’all are still crazy as hell.”
“And you’re still in places that you have no place being,” Gucci told him. “Who are you in here with, Brasco and them?”
“Nah, my nigga B-Sco locked up and I don’t see Nef too much no more,” Ashanti said in a saddened tone.
“Brasco stay locked up.”
“You know how it is when you’re in the life, Gucci. We take the good with the bad.”
“Yeah and it’s mostly bad,” she pointed out. “Ashanti, I sure wish you would get up outta these streets and go back to school. You’re still young enough to do something with your life.”
Ashanti laughed. “What life? My family doesn’t want me and the system can’t hold me. The one nigga who did love me is gone.” When Ashanti said it he saw hurt flash across Gucci’s face. “I’m sorry, Gucci, I know that’s still a sore spot for you. How are you holding up?”
“I’m working through it one day at a time. Some days are easier than others.”
“True story.” Ashanti looked down at his shoes. “You know”—when he raised his head, his eyes were misty—“I ain’t never known no good in my life. From my mama pimping me out when I was a baby to having to fight every day of my life because I’m so small, people have always treated me like shit unless I was able to benefit them, but it wasn’t like that with my nigga Animal. Even when that dude didn’t have shit I could still get half of it, ain’t too many niggaz built like that no more. On the real, if I ever found the niggaz who got at him…” His emotions overcame him and he couldn’t find the words.
“It’s okay, Ashanti.” Gucci rubbed his back. “I know, trust me I know.”
The guy who had been at the other end of the bar trying to get Gucci’s attention finally got up the courage to come over. His timing couldn’t have been worse. “What’s good, can I holla at you for a minute?” He was a dark-skinned kid with bad skin, dressed in a fake Polo shirt and some ugly brown shoes.
“Now is not a good time,” Tionna told him.
“My fault, I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just trying to see if I could buy the lady a drink. She looks like she could use it,” he said pleasantly.
“Can’t you see we’re having a moment? Have some fucking respect,” Ashanti snapped.
“Chill, shorty, I wasn’t trying to come over here and fuck up your groove,” the guy told him.
When Ashanti heard the word shorty, his Napoleon complex and the liquor kicked in. “Who the fuck you calling shorty, you trying to play me?”
“C’mon, B, you bugging right now. Calm that big-man shit down.” The kid waved Ashanti off.
“You’re a tough guy, huh?” Ashanti folded his hands behind his back. Nobody but Tionna saw that he had just pulled a gun out of his pants. “How about if I smack the shit outta you for talking slick?”
“What?” The kid moved in on him. Ashanti’s arm had started inching from behind his back when Lakim grabbed him by the wrist.
“I think you’ve had a little too much to drink. Maybe you should go kick back for a minute,” Lakim whispered in Ashanti’s ear.
“A’ight, La,” Ashanti said, but kept his eyes on the kid he’d been arguing with. “Gucci, Tionna, Ima catch up with you later on.” He backed through the crowd, still glaring at the kid.
“That li’l boy just got saved for a good ass whipping,” the kid boasted.
Lakim took a sip of his Corona and made eye contact with the kid. “You having a good time at my man’s party?”
“Yeah, this shit is real live.” The kid smiled. The smile faded when Lakim broke the bottle on the bar and placed the jagged end to the kid’s throat.
He grabbed the kid roughly by the face and pressed the broken end into the kid’s Adam’s apple. “You fucking faggot, I should open you up for trying to disrespect my li’l man!”
“I’m sorry.” The kid gasped.
“One sorry muthafucka.” Lakim poked him. “Get the fuck outta here before I kill you.” He shoved the kid. Lakim grabbed a napkin from the bar and began wiping the excess beer from his hands. He felt Gucci’s and Tionna’s eyes on him. “You ladies enjoy the rest of the party.” He tossed the napkin onto the bar and walked off.
Gucci had a mortified look on her face, but Tionna was smiling from ear to ear. “I know you don’t think that shit is funny?” Gucci asked.
“Nah, I was just wondering if he was seeing anybody.”
Gucci shook her head. “I can’t take yo ass nowhere.”
“Hater.” Tionna sipped her drink. She looked over near the entrance and saw Marlene walk in accompanied by several men dressed in business suits. “There’s Marlene. Come on, let me introduce you.” Tionna grabbed Gucci by the hand and led her across the room.
CHAPTER 44
Porsha’s night with Don B. felt like a dream. Don B. treated her to dinner at a French restaurant uptown that she’d had no idea even existed. It was a cute little spot not far from St. Luke’s Hospital and had a beautiful view of the park. The menu was in French, so Porsha had some difficulty figuring out what she wanted to eat, but to her surprise Don B. was able to translate it. His French wasn’t very good, but he knew enough to place their order.
After dinner they headed downtown to the movie screening. It was a modest theater on the Lower East Side that showed mostly foreign films and critically acclaimed independents, but they shut it down for the night for the screening. It was a forty-minute short called From Harlem With Love, which was written and directed by a young writer from Harlem whom Don B. had grown up with. When Porsha saw the melting pot of people who turned out for the screening, she assumed it was going to be some Euro-type film that she couldn’t get into, but it was actually pretty good. It was centered around a dude from the neighborhood who had gone on a killing spree. Porsha cried during the scene when the main character’s girlfriend fell to an assassin’s bullet that was meant for him.
After the screening there was a meet and greet for the cast and crew a few blocks away at a small restaurant. Porsha felt slightly out of her element, listening to the conversations about movies that she had never seen and books that she had no interest in, but she did her best not to embarrass Don B. with her ignorance. She got roped into a discussion with a group of producers from Europe, who seemed to have more than a passing fascination with her. One guy in particular, who had had one too many glasses of wine, fawned over Porsha, telling her how pretty she was and how he wanted to use her in his next film. She knew he was talking out of his ass, but it felt good to hear.
When asked what she did, Porsha said simply that she was in the entertainment field and didn’t elaborate any further.
Don B. seemed right at home seemingly so far out of his element. It was amazing to her how he could turn his hood persona on and off as needed to blend in with the different crowds. Porsha mostly played the sidelines but it seemed like every few minutes Don B. was introducing her to this one and that one who was involved either with the film or with some other aspect of the industry. When Don B. announced that they were leaving, no one wanted to see them go, including Porsha. She was having a good time, but Don B. promised that the night would only get better, so she went along.
“What’d you think?” Don B. asked when they were back in the car.
“I had a great time. Your friends were so nice and they really seemed supportive of your friend’s film,” Porsha said.
“Stop fronting. Those were a bunch of dry-ass crackers who wouldn’t have wiped their asses with that script if the Don wasn’t backing it. They don’t give a fuck about us or the stories that come out of our communities.”
Porsha was confused. “So if you really don’t like these people, why were you in there all smiley and stuff?”
“Because it’s good business. For as big of cocksuckers as those guys are, they’re also very influential. The connections they have can open doors that might otherwise be closed to me and help take Big Dawg to the next level, so I play the game.”
“Sounds like the game is phony to me.”
“As a three-dollar bill, but business ain’t about keeping it real, it’s about keeping it profitable. After you’ve been around for a while you’ll have figured it out.”
“Oh, so you plan on keeping me around for a while, huh?”
Don B. looked at her. “I’d be a fool to let a catch like you get away, ma. You’ve been chosen; now let’s see if you make the cut.”
“I hear that hot shit.” Porsha cut her eyes at him. “So, where are we off to now?”
“A friend of mine is having a li’l thing out in Brooklyn Heights. I figured we’d slide through there for a hot sec and have a few drinks. Besides, I need to holla at him about something.”
Porsha frowned. “Brooklyn Heights? Ain’t no clubs out there so what is it, a house party or something?”
“Or something,” he said and turned his attention back to the road.
* * *
What Don B. took Porsha to was anything but your average house party. His friend Tone owned a beautiful three-story house with a view of the bridge. When Don B. pulled up with Porsha on his arm, people treated them like the king and queen of the music industry. He led her through the long hallway to the living room, giving her the 411 on all the plaques that lined Tone’s wall. People milled about in the spacious living room with its high ceilings and glass furniture, drinking and smoking weed and engaging in a few other activities. There were a few heavyweights from the New York music scene there, and she thought she might’ve recognized an athlete or two. No matter who they were, they all paid homage to Don B. and the lady on his arm. Porsha caught a little shade from a few of the video hos in attendance but that just made her throw it extra hard as she crossed the room.
