Authors: K'wan Foye
“Small world,” Veronica said with an attitude. She looked from Frankie to Alonzo to Porsha.
“I was just about to say the same thing,” Porsha said sarcastically. She purposely leaned against Alonzo intimately just to irk Veronica.
“What’s up, Zo-Pound?” Veronica ignored Porsha and addressed Alonzo.
Alonzo shrugged. “Ain’t too much.”
“Looks like you took care of that business and had some free time after all, huh?” Veronica said. She had been trying to get with Alonzo for the last few days, but he kept putting her off telling her that he was tied up with business in Harlem.
“Took a short break to come holla at peoples,” Alonzo said smoothly.
“Y’all know each other?” Bess asked confused, looking at the assembled faces trying to figure out what was going on.
“I met these other broads in passing, but me and Zo-Pound got history,” Veronica said with a smirk.
“Do tell,” Bess raised an eyebrow.
“Ain’t too much to tell. We know each other from high school,” Alonzo said. He didn’t mean anything by it, but Veronica took offense.
“Damn, it’s like that, Zo? I thought we meant a little more to each other than just being high school sweethearts.”
Porsha snickered.
Veronica turned to Porsha. “Something funny?”
“Pay me no mind. I’m off my meds,” Porsha downplayed it.
“If you knew like I knew you’d get back on them.” Veronica rolled her eyes at Porsha, then turned back to Alonzo. “You know, it’s funny that the other night when I asked you what the deal was, you played it off like you and shorty only knew each other from around the way, but y’all look real comfortable out here.”
“Slow up, Veronica. Right now, you bugging and trying to make this shit bigger than what it is,” Alonzo told her. He smelled the drama cooking and was trying to put the fire out early.
“Wow,” Bess said, instigating from the sidelines.
“I ain’t trying to make it bigger than nothing, Zo. I just thought that we respected each other enough to keep it tall. You didn’t have to lie about it. If you was fucking her, you should’ve just said you fucked her.” Veronica’s voice seemed to get louder.
“Veronica, not that it’s any of your business, but Porsha and I have never slept together,” Alonzo told her.
“It’s still early,” Porsha staged-whispered to Frankie.
Veronica spun on Porsha. “You got a problem with me or something?”
“No love, I’m good. I know my position, but it seems like you’re the one trying to figure out where
you
fit into all this,” Porsha said confidently.
“Well, I fit in pretty good until you and your little hood rat friends ruined my date by begging Zo-Pound to save you from that ass whipping,” Veronica shot back.
“Damn, and I remember you telling me how much you were looking forward to that date,” Bess continued to pour gasoline on the smoldering fire.
Porsha cocked her head and looked at Veronica as if she had lost her mind. “Boo-boo, you got me fucked up. Didn’t nobody ask Alonzo to rescue shit, and for the record, it looked like your date was going south long before we got there, or is it a regular thing for niggaz to leave you sitting there looking stupid while they slide off to holla at other chicks?”
“Ladies, why don’t y’all just cool out,” Alonzo suggested, but it was as if he wasn’t even there.
“You li’l bum-ass Harlem bitch, you ain’t got shit on me!” Veronica shouted at Porsha.
Porsha snorted. “I ain’t never been a bum in my life, and I can think of something that I got on you, but I ain’t gotta state the obvious,” she looked from Alonzo to Veronica.
Porsha’s statement, coupled with the fact that Alonzo was up under her and not Veronica, stung. Her eyes narrowed to slits. “You a long way from home to be popping shit.”
“Bitch, I could be in Alaska, and my mouth still gonna go off. I ain’t no punk. What’s really good?” Porsha spat. If it was a fight Veronica was looking for she was more than willing to give her one.
Frankie had been standing off to the side remaining neutral until she saw Bess trying to creep around to Porsha’s blindside. Frankie stepped in front of her. “Ma, you already know that ain’t going down.”
“It’s like that, Frankie?” Bess asked her.
“Straight like that. If these bitches wanna thump, then that’s on them, but please believe I ain’t having my homegirl get jumped,” Frankie let her know.
Bess was a warrior, but she knew that Frankie was too. Bess couldn’t say for sure if she could take Frankie in a fight, so she figured, why bother if she didn’t have to. “What’s up, V? You wanna shoot the one-deep with this chick?”
Veronica was hesitant. The only reason she had pressed it as far as she did was because she knew Bess had her back if anything went down. For as long as she and Bess had been hanging, she had always been the pretty one who reeled the guys in and Bess had been the rough one who knocked the bitches out. Without having Bess as her security blanket, she was no longer sure how the fight would play out and really didn’t want to chance it, but she had already put it out there and couldn’t back down.
“Fuck it. I’ll molly-wop this bitch right quick.” Veronica came out of her shoes.
“We’ll see.” Porsha came out of her blazer.
“Porsha, chill. Don’t fight this girl over me. Shit ain’t worth it,” Alonzo tried to reason with Porsha.
Porsha chuckled. “Once again you give yourself too much
credit, youngster. I’d never fight a chick over some dick. I’m gonna beat this bitch’s ass off the principle.” She took her earrings off and placed them in Alonzo’s hand. “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Porsha turned around just in time to see Veronica swooping in for a sneak attack. Porsha weaved and avoided getting punched directly in her face, but her chin took the brunt of the blow. Her legs got tangled, throwing her balance off for a second, but she quickly recovered and came back at Veronica throwing rights and lefts. She stole Veronica in the eye, snapping her head back and opening up a small cut over her eyebrow. Porsha grinned when Veronica noticed the trickle of blood running down her face.
Veronica touched her hand to her head, and to her horror, it came away bloody. “Bitch, that’s yo’ ass now!” Then she charged Porsha like a bull.
Porsha tried to sidestep the charge, but the wedges on her feet made her movements awkward and slow. Veronica locked her arms around Porsha’s lower body and tried to lift her up. Porsha knew that if Veronica got her off her feet it would be a wrap. She rained blows ferociously on Veronica’s head and face every time she tried to lift her. When Veronica’s grip slackened, Porsha kneed her in the face.
Veronica staggered to regroup. Blood leaked from her nose and dripped on the ground. She seemed dazed but was hardly done. With a grunt, she took a boxer’s stance and advanced on Porsha, throwing punches from the hip. Porsha managed to protect her face from the onslaught, but every time Veronica’s fist connected with her forearm, she felt her bones rattle. She had to admit that Veronica hit like a jackhammer, but her pride
kept her standing. There was no way in hell that she would be remembered on that block as the chick who came from Harlem and got her ass whipped over a man, because that’s surely how the story would end up spun whenever it was retold.
Porsha moved to put some space between her and Veronica and a dude in the crowd stuck his foot out, tripping her. Porsha landed hard on her hands and knees and before she could get back to her feet Veronica was on her, raining punches. Alonzo and Frankie moved at the exact same time, with Frankie moving to pull Veronica off Porsha and Alonzo creeping through the crowd toward the dude who had tripped Porsha.
“Don’t jump in, Frankie. Let that bitch take her medicine!” Bess warned.
“I ain’t jumping in. Your peoples tripped her. Let her get up and shoot the fair one.” Frankie stood between the Brooklyn girls and Porsha who was slowly recovering.
While Frankie and the girls were arguing, the dude who had tripped Porsha stood off to the side, laughing with his friends about his shady move. He never saw Alonzo coming, but he felt the powerful strike to his jaw. The dude stumbled, and Alonzo delivered two more bone-crushing punches to the side of his head to make sure he stayed down. One of the dude’s friends snuck up on Alonzo and hit him in the side of the head with a bottle. Alonzo stumbled, holding his head. The dudes from the block closed in, ready to finish the Harlem cat off, but they all backpedaled when he came up waving his .357.
“Back the fuck up!” Alonzo roared, sweeping the gun back and forth. One of young boys tried to inch up on him and almost lost his foot when Alonzo blasted the ground. “Li’l nigga, don’t make me murder you,” Alonzo barked. He found himself
backed into a corner with Frankie and Porsha, with damn near everyone from the neighborhood trying to converge on them. It was about to go down, and it wasn’t looking good for Alonzo. Even being armed, there were five times as many of them as he had bullets. He cursed himself, because if he’d stayed his black ass in Harlem, he might not have been in that situation.
Alonzo was about to try to blast his way out when he heard what sounded like thunder, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. The thunder rolled a second time and the crowd parted like the Red Sea, making way for a chick, followed by several dudes. They all brandished guns like they were legal. She was a thick chick with red and black braided hair who walked with the authority normally reserved for a man. In her right hand, she held smoking Desert Eagle and in her left a smoldering blunt clip. She took two drags of the clip before tossing it into the streets and turning her weed-slanted eyes to Alonzo and the two girls. Alonzo was still holding the .357, but she didn’t seem to notice it when she stepped in front of him.
“Who the fuck is y’all making all this noise in my hood? Don’t y’all know that don’t nobody do no gun-clapping on this block unless it’s us?” the redhead sneered at Alonzo.
“That bitch came through here fronting, talking about I was fucking with her man so I put the pieces on her,” Veronica lied.
The redhead turned to Veronica. “I don’t believe I was talking to you, V, and if your ass was in the middle of it, I know there’s more to the story than what you’re telling. Every time you come around here you get into something. I told you about that shit before.” She looked from the bloodied Veronica to Porsha, who looked ready to pop off at a moment’s notice, and finally to Alonzo. Even outgunned, he still stood defiantly
clutching his .357. “Young man, you must sling dick like a porn star to have these two hoes out here boxing over you. Who you be, soldier?”
“The name is Zo-Pound,” Alonzo announced.
The redhead scratched her chin. “Zo-Pound? You the same Zo-Pound that runs around with little Ashanti?”
“That’s my crime partner,” Alonzo told her.
The redhead turned to her shooters. “Ain’t about nothing. The young boy gets to keep his life.” The shooters griped and reluctantly lowered their guns. “Zo,” she turned back to him, “we getting money around the corner so all this drama ain’t no good for business. Take your li’l girlfriend and head back uptown.”
“You got that.” Alonzo grabbed Porsha by the hand and began leading her away.
Porsha stopped short and turned to Frankie. “You good, ma?”
Frankie laughed. “Yeah, y’all go ahead. These bitches is scandalous, but they ain’t stupid. They know what it is with Frankie Angels, right?” she looked from Veronica to Bess. Neither of them said a word.
“A’ight, I’m gonna call you later.” Porsha waved at her friend. She was skeptical about leaving Frankie in Brooklyn, but she wasn’t really in a position to argue the point.
“Zo,” the redhead called after him, “when you see Ashanti, tell him Auntie Kastro says hello and that he could at least call from time to time to see how I’m doing. We still family.”
“I’ll do that,” Alonzo promised before hot stepping off the block with his lady in tow.
“Who is that chick, and how does she know Ashanti?” Porsha asked when they had rounded the corner.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Just keep walking before she
changes her mind.” Alonzo didn’t feel safe until he and Porsha were in a taxi and on their way out of Brooklyn. “How come every time I turn around I gotta get you outta some shit?” he asked Porsha as the taxi carried them across the bridge into Manhattan.
“Nigga, knock it off because you know I didn’t start that shit. That was your crazy-ass girlfriend who was out there clowning,” Porsha rolled her eyes.
“She ain’t my girl,” Alonzo said defensively.
“Well, that bitch must not have gotten the memo.” Porsha pulled her compact mirror from her purse to assess the damage from the fight. There were three faint scratches on the side of her face, but nothing that a little makeup wouldn’t cover. “Crazy ho.”
“Yo, I didn’t know you could throw hands like that, Porsha,” Alonzo told her. He knew Veronica to be a bruiser since back in the days but was surprised at how Porsha had handled her.
“When you’re this pretty you gotta know how to defend yourself against haters,” she capped while fixing her hair. “This bitch done pulled me all outta my character.”
“Don’t worry about it. You still the finest muthafucka living.” Alonzo pinched her chin playfully.
Before they knew it, the cab was slowing up in front of the projects. Alonzo spotted Ashanti walking up the block with Fatima. He was about to tell the cabdriver to drop them right there until he saw the familiar brown Buick pull up in the bus stop. He already knew who was in the car so he told the cabdriver to let them off on the next block. As the cab passed the Buick, Alonzo watched the black and Hispanic detectives get out of the car and head straight for Ashanti, wondering what the fuck they wanted.
THIRTY-SIX
A
SHANTI AND
F
ATIMA WALKED UP
B
ROADWAY, LAUGHING
as they recapped the funny moments in the movie they had just come from seeing at the Magic Johnson Theater. They were the picture of an urban Romeo and Juliet, walking shoulder to shoulder and sharing an order of chicken wings. Every so often, they would nod or say hello to the people they passed, but their attention was fixed solely on each other.