Page 4 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
I’m not new to this lifestyle. Before paroling out to Crescent Falls, I had my own shit back in Philly. It wasn’t as organized and legitimatized as the Powers’ setup here but every pill that made its way into lower west Philly hand my hands on it. I had that shit on lock until a grimy nigga let some pussy fuck up everything.
My right hand and once brother, Juno, was pillow talking to an undercover fed. His dumb ass fell in love and shit and told it all. Within six months, I was indicted and railroaded. Nothing pointed to me, no evidence linked the pills or distribution of them to me, but I got knocked. The only person that could connect anything to me with Juno and when they offered that Judas a deal, he didn’t hesitate to sign it.
Between my lawyers, the week-ass evidence, and the sentencing rules in the federal system, I did forty-two months. Philly was dead to me so right before I jumped two years ago, I hit Brick about the parole board. I walked out the gates, hopped on a plane, and made a new life here in Crescent Falls. I didn’t even look back at Philly. I left everyone and everything but my bread there. Since the feds didn’t seize all my shit, I had enough stashed to make the move and set myself up here. When I was released from parole supervision, my fam put me on with Amon, Gideon’s number two, and after six months, I was controlling the main distribution warehouse of the pill operation. I run it alongside Brick’s girl, Hazel.
Before walking into the C-Mart, I place the blackphone back into my jacket pocket. The shit vibrates as soon as I do but I ignore it.If I keep texting them niggas, I’ll never make it to the dinner party.As I open the door and walk in, it vibrates again. I reach back into my jacket but stop when I hear loud arguing. I look up and see some lame ass nigga all up in this female’s face. I can’t see her but I can hear her.
“Look, nigga. I said move. I’m not interested. I don’t want your damn number and I’d appreciate it if you get out of my damn face!” she yells, sounding frustrated and mad as hell but the nigga ain’t moving.
I’m not about to let no man disrespect any woman, so, I step to them. “My man, the lady asked you to leave,” I say calmly.
Without turning around, he hisses, “Nigga, fuck you.”
“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snaps and that’s it. Clearly, homeboy needs a lesson in manners. I slap my hand on his shoulder, grip the fuck out of it, and yank his bitch ass around to face me.
“The fuck!” he yells.
The scowl on his face drops when he gets a good look at me. I’m a good six inches taller than him and I got him by at least fifty pounds. Crew men are big men and our size matches our energy. I’ll fuck this nigga up if he makes a step in the wrong fucking direction.
“The lady asked you to leave nicely. If I fucking ask, there will be nothing nice about it. Just fallback and dip.”
I watch as his eyes move around like he’s thinking what the fuck to do. He takes a moment to size me up and I do the same. He looks like a fucking clown in his tight jeans, a cotton shirt with cartoon shoes, with a platinum and diamond chain that doesn’t have either.
His head lifts up and our eyes lock. I see the fear in his and I think he spots the lack of it in mine. Something in his dumb ass brain tells him to try me because in a flash, his hand is in his pocket and he pulls out a blade.
Fuck nigga.
“So, you really want the not so nice way to leave?” I ask, shaking my damn head. Instead of making the right decision and retreating, he lunges towards me waving the blade like a mad man.
“Oh my God!” she yells.
He lunges at me again, still waving the knife and jabbing it towards me. My eyes focus on his and when he looks away for a split second, I stall on him and land my fist right on the side of his face. He stumbles back, wobbles, then falls. When he does, she kicks him.
“Stupid ass,” she uttersand got damn!
I’m stuck…on her. She has to be the prettiest woman I’ve ever seen: rich milk chocolate skin, pretty ass lips, and eyes that look at you and through you at the same damn time. Her tall, slim thick frame is perfect. I can already see those long ass legs and thick thighs wrapped around me.Shit she’s fucking perfection.
So caught up in her, I miss that the fuck nigga is up. He somehow managed to regain his composure. Before I can fully register that shit, he’s lunging for me and I feel a jab in my side. On impulse, I back hand him and knock him forward. He stumbles and when I reach for him, I feel her. Her hand is on me and she’s holding my arm. For a second, I pull my eyes away from her and glance back. He’s gone. Sometimes, God looks out for fools and this must have been that nigga’s lucky day. Hebetter pray that he’s stays lucky because if I ever see him, he won’t feel my fist on his face; it’ll be a damn bullet in his dome.
“My God. He stabbed you,” she rushes out.The anger in her voice from earlier has faded and she sound sultry and angelic. Our eyes lock and she doesn’t cower under my stare. She’s less intimidated by my size than that nigga was.
I like that shit.
She moves her hand to my suit jacket and she opens it. “You’re bleeding.”
Although it’s a flesh wound and I barely feel the shit, I’m not going to admit that to her. I love the way she’s touching me and the concern in her voice is soothing. Plus, she smells as good as she looks. I’m not trying to fuck this up by saying I’m straight.
Invoking Denzel Washington and shit, I place my hand on my side, then sigh. “Nah. I think I’m good.” I lay that shit on strong too because it has her trying to drape her arm around me as if she can help me walk. I let her make it too as she walks me to the door.
“We need to call 911,” she says calmly, not frantic at all. Most females would be freaking the hell out but not her.
“A Black man stabbed by another Black man. They ain’t gone do shit about that but get in my life and I don’t want them in my shit at all. He’s gone anyway.”
“Let me look at it then. My car is over there. Can you walk that far?”
She nods toward the orange Challenger that caught my eye when I pulled up. It’s only a few feet from the door. I can run to that muthafucka on the real but I stay in character. It’s keeping me in her presence and keeping her hands on me. So, I grunt a little for added measure then nod.
When we make it to her ride, she unlocks it and opens the door. Then, I let her help me inside. My acting is so damn on point, I have to stop myself from laughing and shit.
