Authors: Deja King
“Bitch, you know what I want!
“Please don’t rape me. I’m begging you,” I pleaded holding the covers tightly over my body.
“I don’t want yo’ pussy.”
“Then what?” my voice was trembling while my eyes darted around the room trying to see what I could use as a weapon.
“I want your money and your drugs, Bitch!” I swallowed hard as that wasn’t the response I was expecting.
“I don’t know what you talkin’ ‘bout! Why would I have drugs in my house…I don’t fuck wit’ that shit! All I got is two hundred dollars in my wallet and you can take it!”
“Yo’ lying ass! Bitch, I know who the fuck you are. You moving more keys then most niggas out here so if you wanna stay alive you better come up with that cash and stash or you can start requesting yo’ last rites. “
“I don’t know what the fuck you talkin’ ‘bout…I swear! Ain’t no drugs up in here.” Next thing I know this nigga pistol whip me with his gun. I could feel the open gash and I put my hand over it trying to stop the blood but it continued to trickle down.
“Now do you understand I ain’t playin’ wit yo’ dumbass!”
“I don’t have any drugs here but I do have some money,” I admitted as I pressed down on my head hoping the pain would stop.
“You bet not be lyin’”
“I’m not…I promise.”
“Where the money at?”
“In that closet inside the black duffel bag on the top shelf.” At this point only two things were on my mind. I was thankful Destiny was with her dad so she didn’t have to be a witness to this bullshit and staying alive.
“Yo, it’s ‘bout a hundred g’s in here! Yeah, Bitch I’ll let you live,” he continued. Even through the mask I could tell the nigga was cheesing and shit. I thought he was about to break out and do a happy dance. “Next time I come back you betta have some drugs too,” he warned but almost in a joking type way. At this point I didn’t even care I just wanted him out of my crib.
“You got yo’ money and could you just go!”
“Calm yo’ ass down. I got what I wanted. I’m outta here.” That nigga pimp walked out my bedroom like he had just hit the jackpot and I guess to him he did. But luckily for me it was only a small percentage of what I really had. Don’t get it twisted I was pissed that this nigga had the audacity to break into my crib, put a gun to my head and steal my money, but what could I do.
I fucked up and I had no one to blame but myself. I had been saying I needed to move into a doorman building but I loved my spacious renovated two-bedroom apartment in Harlem. Never did I feel I wasn’t safe because I didn’t think anybody knew I pushed drugs. Yeah I had the cars, jewelry and clothes but I kept my shit low key and felt I stayed under the radar but unfortunately I was wrong. I figured a few nosey people in my neighborhood thought I was selling pussy or was some king pin’s bottom bitch but never that I was that bitch who was a major distributor to mostly all the street pushers.
Somehow though the streets got to talking and my secret was out. All I could do now was regroup, change shit up and be thankful that my mistakes didn’t cost me my life. The first thing I planned on doing was moving ASAP. The next thing was purchase a gun for protection. Because best believe the person who attacked me, would start running his mouth letting motherfuckers know he made a come up off me, and other thirsty niggas would now try to do the same thing.
I didn’t even feel safe staying in my apartment for the rest of the night. I grabbed my luggage and started packing shit up. I threw everything I could in my bags before I got dressed. I decided I would stay with my mom until I could come back and get the rest of my stuff.
Before I left I went in the bathroom and looked at the gash on my head. It didn’t look as bad as it felt which I was grateful about. I cleaned it before putting a bandage on it and I started trying to figure out what lie I would tell my mother to explain it away. This wasn’t the life I expected when I got into the game but I should’ve known that shit wouldn’t stay rosy forever. Another lesson learned. With all the easy money that came from hustling you better be prepared to accept the bad.
****
The first thing I did when I woke up was reach in my bag for some Excedrin Migraine. My head was still throbbing from that pop I took on the head.
“Diamond, what are you doing here,” my mom asked when she saw me standing in the kitchen pouring myself a glass of water.
“I came last night. I didn’t want to wake you up,” I responded casually.
“What happened to your head?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” I answered vaguely. My mother’s facial expression was screaming concern so I was trying my best to play it cool.
“Let me see,” she said, smoothing back my hair to lift up the bandage. “Did you go to the doctor? That cut looks painful.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted, moving away.
“Did you get in a fight?”
“No, I was in a car accident.” That was the first lie that popped in my head so I ran with it.
“Did somebody hit you? I hope you called the police and filed a report.”
“It was my fault. I was texting and hit something.”
“How many times have I told you about driving and texting at the same time. You lucky all you got was a bump on your head,” my mother pointed her finger scolding me.
“You’re right, it was a dumb mistake. It’ll never happen again.”
“I hope not. If anything happened to you I don’t know what I’d do.”
“Nothing is going to happen to me. But I do need a favor.”
“What kind of favor?” she asked with a quizzical look on her face.
“Can Destiny and I stay with you for awhile?”
“Of course! That ain’t no favor. You know you always welcomed here. But what’s wrong with your place.”
“I’ve decided to move.”
“Really? But you always tell me how much you love your apartment.”
“I do…I meant I did but there has been several break-ins lately and I’m afraid for our safety. I want to move into a more secure building.”
“I can’t blame you for that. Times are tough right now and the last thing you need is somebody breaking into your apartment and God forbid hurt you and Destiny. You stay here for as long as you like.”
“Thanks, Mom, I really appreciate that.”
“No need to thank me. So where is Destiny, she still sleeping?”
“No she’s actually with Rico. He’s bringing her back today.” Right when I said his name I saw my phone vibrating and his name on the screen. “That’s him now, let me get this.”
“Take your call, I need to go get dressed anyway,” my mom said, kissing me on my forehead before leaving the kitchen.
“Hello,” I answered not in the mood to speak to Rico.
“I’m about to drop off Destiny…you home?”
“You can bring her to my mother’s house.”
“What? You at your mom’s crib?”
“Yes, that’s why I want you to bring Destiny here,” I sighed, while scribbling on a notepad on the kitchen counter.
“So what you stayed at your mom’s house last night?”
“What’s with all the questions?”
“I’m just asking.”
“Well stop it. I’ll be here when you drop Destiny off,” I smacked then hung up the phone. I leaned on the kitchen counter wondering what was up with Rico’s questions. Then I thought about me getting robbed last night and how convenient it was that Destiny wasn’t home because she was with her father. No, that motherfucker wouldn’t have me set up or would he? He doesn’t even know I’m supplying drugs to the streets or does he? Man the questions were spinning around so fast in my head I was getting dizzy.
I went to sit down because the anger was building up and I had to calm myself down. It was no secret that Rico couldn’t stand the fact that I dropped his whorish ass and moved on to become my own woman but could he hate me that much. I mean I was the mother of his child. Would he actually green light a nigga running up in my crib, stealing from me and smacking me upside the head with a gun? As much as Rico worked my nerves I didn’t want to believe that but something in the water damn sure wasn’t clean. I prayed that Rico had nothing to do with the robbery but if he did, everybody involved was going to wish they left me for dead.
Kennedy
“Kennedy, I need
for you to go to that club in the Meat Packing District, it’s called,” she looked down and began fidgeting with some papers. “You know that club you wrote the proposal for.”
“Oh, you’re talking about The Double Seven.”
“Yes, well they are anxious to read over it and I want you to personally deliver it to the owner, who is there right now.”
“Don’t you think it would leave a better impression if you went and delivered it yourself?”
“No of course not. I’m a celebrity myself. It’s expected that I don’t have time to do such trivial things…that’s what I have you for. Here’s the address,” Darcy said, handing me a card. “Now hurry along. If we get them for a client it would be huge. They’re one of the hottest nightclubs right now and with this being New York who knows how long that will last.”
“I’m sure that’s what they want to hire us for…to make it last.”
“That’s what we’re here for to sell them the dream and as long as they’re willing to pay for it all is well. Now handle that and get back because I have some other projects for you to work on.”
It was moments like this I regretted not handing in my resignation but I was fifteen thousand richer because of it so how could I really complain.
****
When the cab dropped me off on Ganesvoort Street, I was surprised to see a filming crew and buses in front of the club. People were standing around as if they were on some type of break from shooting. I went inside and saw a tall, blonde rocker looking dude standing behind the bar and hoped he could be of some assistance.
“Hi, can you tell me where the owner is. I have some papers I need to give him.”
“He should be here in the next ten minutes or so. You can have a seat and wait for him.”
“Thanks, I’ll do that.”
“Would you like a drink or anything while you wait?”
“No, I’m good but thanks but umm what are they shooting in here?”
“Some hip hop video. I don’t listen to that music but from the big hoopla they’re making he’s suppose to be a big time artist,” he responded nonchalantly, while continuing to set up the bar.
“Why is everybody standing around, are they on some type of break?”
“From what I was told some girl got injured.”
“Injured?”
“Yeah, that lady over there,” I peered over in the direction he was pointing. “She told me because she wanted to know if we had a first aid kit.’”
When I realized I recognized the lady he was pointing at I stood up from the bar stool and headed in her direction.
“Tish, hi! It’s good to see you,” I smiled, giving her a hug.
“Kennedy, it’s always good to see you! I heard the event was spectacular. Thanks so much for the invite. I was so mad I couldn’t attend but I was stuck in LA.”
“I understand…you’re a busy girl. So what do you have going on here today?”
“We’re shooting a music video for Skee Patron.”
“Nice….”
“Yeah but the leading lady fell and we think she broke her ankle and she has some scratches on her legs and arm. I mean what model doesn’t know how to run in heels…what a nightmare!”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’ve been on the phone for the last thirty minutes trying to replace her dumbass. But it’s so last minute nobody is available. This video is already over budget and if we waste anymore time the label is going to freak. This is my biggest video yet, I don’t want to fuck things up.”
‘Tish, I have the perfect girl for you.”
“You do?” she asked as if in shock.
“Yes! We have a new client she would be perfect.”
“Is she a model?”
“An actress, which is even better because she has the looks plus the acting skills.
“What’s her name?”
“Blair.”
“I’ve never heard of her, what movies has she stared in?”
“She’s still under the radar because the movies that she’s staring in haven’t been released yet. She has a role in the Tyler Perry movie that’s coming out at the end of the year and she’s in the running for lead in the next Tarantino movie. This girl is going to be huge. And what’s great for you is that she’s not the standard video girl that everybody has seen. This will be her first one.”
“Really.” Her eyes gleamed in anticipation of getting her hands on some fresh new meat. “I know if Darcy took her on as a client she must be hot. How fast can she get here?”
“I’ll get her on the phone now.” I hurried off to a corner with my fingers crossed that Blair would answer her phone. It rang and rang and rang then it went to voicemail. So I hung up and called her again. “Dammit Blair, answer the fuckin’ phone,” I yelled in a whispering voice so no one else could hear how frustrated I was.
“Hello.” I groggy female voice answered the phone and I assumed it had to be Blair.