Page 8 of The Hood's Finest: Jersey & Mylani
“Some bullshit. You know how Shanna’s ass is. She can’t pass up a moment to act like a fucking hood rat. I’m up, though. Bitch just ruined my fucking night. I’ll get up with y’all boys.” I dapped my brothers up and went down to wait for Passion. I posted up on the wall in the hallway that led to the dressing room to wait for her to come out.
“You need something, baby?” a stripper asked once she saw me.
“I’m good. I’m waiting for Passion.”
“Passion?”
“That’s what I said, ain’t it?” I hated being questioned, and this hoe was acting like I was in an interrogation room.
“What you need with her? I’m pretty sure I can be of better assistance.”
“Look, my mama didn’t raise me to be disrespectful to women, but right now, you acting like a sack chasing ass hoe that don’tknow when a nigga is being nice. That right there is the reason you will never be chosen, shawty.” I leaned off the wall when I saw Passion emerging from the dressing room. She looked between me and ol’ girl while she approached us.
“You ready?”
“I told you I’m good.”
“And I told you I’m not that kind of nigga. So, again, are you ready?”
“I guess so.” She walked past the girl, who was still standing there for whatever reason, then proceeded to head to the front of the club. I stayed back, just in case one of these niggas tried to pull some fuck shit.
We finally dispersed through the crowd and made it outside.
“My car is this way,” I directed. I took the fob out so that she could know which one was mine. Like inside the club, I walked behind her. Once we got close enough, I stepped around her and opened the passenger door before taking her bag and putting it in the back. Taking one last look around the parking lot, I got in the driver’s seat and pulled off. You could never be too careful these days. Muthafuckas were always waiting in the cut, hoping to catch you slipping. I refused to be that nigga.
“Where we going?” I asked, pulling out of the club’s parking lot.
“I stay off Carson, on Tidewell.” I nodded and proceeded to our destination.
“How long you been working at that club?” I asked, trying to engage in some sort of conversation.
“About three months. I used to work at one out of town, but it got too expensive to go. When I heard about this one, I jumped at the opportunity.”
“I can dig it. You like that shit? I mean, it’s nothing wrong with it… it’s a job. You don’t look like the type that seems to make a career out the shit, though.”
“You’re right. It’s a job. I only started dancing after my mom started skipping out on paying the bills. I couldn’t have my lil’ sister suffer because our mom has her priorities all wrong.” I listened and started to feel bad as fuck. Without saying it, I knew her mom was a hoe or a junkie. If it was the latter, ten times outta ten, I supplied her with the shit.
“Damn, shawty, that’s a fucked up situation to be in. How old are you?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Oh, you a youngin?” I joked.
“You can’t be too much older than me, unless you some old perv like the dude from the club.”
“Hell nah. That nigga old enough to be my damn daddy. I’m twenty-six though, the oldest of my brothers. How old your sister?”
“She’s sixteen.”
I noticed she got a somber look on her face when I mentioned her sister, so I let the shit go. I knew how people could get about their folk. I pulled up along the side of the house that she said was hers and put the car in park. Shawty stayed in the heart of the hood, but I wasn’t worried in the least. Niggas would rather try Jesus than me.
“Thanks for the ride,” she said, handing me a twenty-dollar bill.
“Don’t insult me, ma. I told you I ain’t that nigga. If I needed your money, I wouldn’t have offered. You can give me your number, though.” I smirked, throwing that in for good measure.
Laughing, she reached out her hand for my phone, and I handed that shit right over. I watched as she put her number in and saved it before handing it back to me.
“Mylani? Oh, I get your government now?” I asked.
