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  “Here I cum,” Eron growled as he struggled to get the words out of his mouth. Aaliyah started humming a tune against his dick.

  “Uh. Uh, shit!” Eron’s dick jerked inside of Aaliyah’s mouth. “Don’t stop,” Eron stuttered. He didn’t need to say that though because Aaliyah had no intention of stopping until she had every last one of his kids down her throat.

  “Oh shit! I’m cumming!”

  Eron pulled his dick from her mouth slowly. Once the tip of his dick reached the pout of Aaliyah’s lips, she licked them and his dick together, looking at Eron lovingly in the eyes.

  Aaliyah walked into the bathroom with Eron close on her tail, kissing the back of her neck.

  “Would you go ’head on, man?”

  “Shit. I know.” Just that fast Eron bounced back into business mode. He grabbed a rag from the linen cabinet, and in the shower, he started to gently wipe Aaliyah’s vagina. He made sure it was squeaky clean before he moved on to washing his genitals.

  “Aren’t you just the sweetest?”

  “Dog! Shut up! You know I always gotta make sure ‘she’s’ good!”

  Aaliyah busted out laughing.

  After they’d gotten out of the shower, Eron said, “I’ma go check on the grow houses,” just as Mal came back into the house. On the outskirts of Detroit, Eron and Jamal each had a grow house. A grow house is a place that is used for nothing but to grow and package marijuana. Both houses held sixty-two plants apiece at any given time. They were going to follow their young bulls A.J. and Ro to the house to break down the weed and distribute to the dealers.

  In one of their meetings with Dr. Angelo and Dr. Brown, Eron and Jamal were introduced to Jomo. Jomo was a thirty-two-year-old straight from the island of Jamaica. He was looking for a low-key way to get some USA money. Jomo knew exactly what it took to make Kush. It was potent, and it was what the streets wanted. He wasn’t looking to sell small time. The smallest he wanted to sell were ounces, pounds, and bows. Jomo was very close friends with Dr. Angelo, so naturally, he went to his friend with his problem. In turn, Dr. Angelo set up a meeting to see how everybody could benefit from the situation.

  “Nigga, you ready? You know we can’t be late,” Mal said.

  “Yeah, bro. I know. We should be good on time though. I just gotta make sure Liyah straight. You know I hate having her going to work and shit. This shit ain’t for her. We need to keep her record squeaky clean so she can do her computer shit.”

  “I know, bro. You can always have Jessica bum ass do it. Bitch ain’t got shit to lose.”

  Jessica? What the fuck do they need her for? “Why she got to do it?” Aaliyah immediately snapped.

  “Shit, girl can get on the bus. I ain’t putting you on no mutherfucking Greyhound.”

  “Aye, sis. It’s just business.” Jamal was always the voice of reason.

  “You know what? You right. Fuck it, it’s all for the sake of the almighty dollar.” Aaliyah shifted her eyes from Jamal to Eron. “You better hope she knows her place. I need you to understand that I will leave.”

  Eron squinted. Just the thought of Aaliyah thinking of leaving had him feeling a certain way. She provided him with something he didn’t know he was missing. Aaliyah was Eron’s equal. She was him wrapped in womanly curves with a heart attached. Aaliyah was a thinker, whereas Eron operated off of impulse. It could be bad if each had to stand alone, but together they were unstoppable. You fucked over Eron, and he was on his way to come gunning for your ass. Aaliyah would try to calm him down to think of a plan. She saved him from catching plenty of cases from acting on strictly emotions.

  “Man, the bitch is just going to work, that’s it.”

  Aaliyah smirked, sliding her tongue across the front of her teeth. “For your sake, that’s all it better be.” Aaliyah turned away from Eron, walking over to Jamal to give him a hug.

  “Be safe,” Jamal warned.

  “Y’all too,” Aaliyah replied, walking off.

  Eron just shook his head at Aaliyah’s stubbornness. “Bye to you too.”

  “Bye.”

  “Man, make sure you go straight home when you get done,” Aaliyah heard Eron say as she hopped into his truck. She watched as Jamal and Eron hopped into the car and pulled off in the opposite direction. Everybody had their own agenda, yet they were all headed to do the same thing. That thing was work.

  * * *

  “Wait, Ms. Aaliyah, I’ma stop you right there. I think this is a bit too much. Maybe even a little past my paygrade,” the therapist said with an exasperated sigh. She handed me a business card.

  “Excuse me?” I said. “You get me in here acting like you care. Or like you want to help me. But you shut me down because my story is too intense?”

  “That’s not what I’m saying. Not at all. All I’m saying is this is out of my paygrade. You should go downstairs to the victim support group. Have a good day.” She sat back at her desk, lifting her hand in the direction of the same door I’d come in.

  Have you ever been so mad that your skin just starts to get hot? That’s how I felt. I wanted to call her every name in the book, but I wasn’t into begging or trying to convince anybody that I needed them. Even if I did.

  “I know you’re upset with the way things are going, but if you don’t take anything else away from this session, take this: sign up for the victim support group.”

  “Yeah, yeah, now you care?” I snapped, grabbing my coat and my bags and rushing out of that therapist’s office. I was so frustrated that tears welled up in my eyes. I angrily wiped them away. Something pulled me down the steps toward the location of that victims’ group.

  My mind was everywhere else as I attempted to pull the door open, only to be yanked toward the door. But somebody pushed as I was pulling, causing us both to smash into the door and drop the things that were in our hands.

  “What the hell?”

  “Oh shit.”

  We got ourselves together. Nobody apologized. We made eye contact. Both of us had tears in our eyes.

  “Well,” I said, “since you not trying to apologize, can you please point me in the direction of a”—I looked at the business card in my hand—“Dr. Jennifer Long?”

  She smirked. “I guess I could.” She pointed into the room.

  I winked. She walked away.

  Chapter Four

  Tineya

  “Hey, Dro. What’s up?”

  “What you mean what’s up? Where you at?”

  “I had an appointment earlier.” I shivered, thinking about my therapy session. “Now I’m leaving the shop. Salena paid for my hair appointment today.”

  “That’s what’s up. I got a minute. I’m trying to see you.”

  “You got a minute huh? That’s all I’m worth huh? Even on my birthday huh?”

  “Oh shit.” Dro smacked his lips and blew a deep breath. “Man, ain’t nobody forget your birthday. That’s what I was calling you about.”

  “That’s what you were calling about? Yet we been on the phone with no ‘Happy birthday’ in sight.”

  “Man, look. I ain’t playing. I got something for you.”

  “Yeah, okay. Let’s go grab some lunch.”

  “Okay, yeah. We can go get some carry-out and go back to your place.”

  “No! I want to go out and sit down to eat. You know what? Never mind.” I hung up my phone. Feelings of becoming irate started to take over my body. You know what? Fuck him.

  I turned the car radio up, making my way to my apartment.

  “Man!” I said, pulling into the carport at my apartment. I took my time getting out of the car. I watched as Dro walked up to the building, waiting for me as if he were invited.

  He said, “Don’t be rolling your eyes. I just wanted to talk to you.”

  “So talk, Dro!”

  “Damn, it’s like that?”

  I walked in, flipping my asymmetrical bob and unlocking the door.

  “Man, here.”

  I took notice of the bag in his h
and for the first time. It was a silver and black Kay Jewelers bag. Grabbing at it, I noticed it was light in weight. Jewelry is light, duh!

  “That’s some money to help furnish ya spot,” Dro said. I pulled out three tight coils of money. This nigga put some money in a gift bag. I couldn’t lie. The apartment was scarcely decorated. It needed some love. But I’d just recently moved in, so it was in the works. Call me dumb, but I expected something with a tad more meaning. Nonetheless, I was appreciative.

  “I guess this is the type of gift the side chick gets huh? No paper trail, right?” I smirked. “Thank you.” Yeah, I was giving him a hard time.

  “Dog, really? You serious?” Dro smacked his lips.

  “I said thanks. Appreciate it.”

  “That shit don’t even sound sincere.”

  “Did you get me a card?”

  “Damn, nah. I forgot.”

  “Hmm.” I nodded, with my lips tightly pressed together, corners pointing toward the ground. See, he said he forgot the card, but I knew better. Dro knew cards were important to me, but he stopped that years ago. Yeah, he a thorough hood nigga, but I was sure that the nigga forgot my birthday. I was tired of the nigga. “It’s cool.”

  “Nah, it ain’t. I fucked up.”

  Peeking into the bag again, I couldn’t help the frown that graced my face. For some strange reason, I felt the need to call my uncle. And I didn’t want to do that in front of Dro. I went inside my apartment. Dro followed me, but I went into the bedroom and closed the door. I called my uncle.

  “What up?” he said.

  “What’s up, Unc?”

  “Nothing, nothing, chilling with this little therapist I know.”

  “Oh okay. You been too busy.”

  “I really don’t got time for this shit. You get money in your account religiously, so I don’t know why you bitching.”

  “Huh?” I was lost as to why Uncle Nathan was treating me like I was scum on the bottom of his shoe.

  “You heard what I said. What did you need?”

  “Look I just needed to vent.”

  “Not surprised.”

  “Dro is here. He bought me a gift for my birthday. The gift was presented nicely. It was in a Kay Jewelers bag. But in the bag was no jewelry, no card in sight. Do you think I have a right to be mad?”

  “No, you do not have the right to be mad. At least he got you something. Side bitches don’t get gifts. I think you should close your mouth and be happy you got somebody. Especially considering your handicap. Most niggas don’t want to deal with that.”

  “You know what crawled up your ass. But fuck you.”

  “Fuck me? I’m all yo’ fucked-face ass got. And you need to stop going to that therapy shit. It ain’t working.”

  Nathan hung up the phone, leaving me flabbergasted. I was so confused. We’d never had anything remotely close to an argument, so this was eating at me.

  After my parents died, I moved in with my uncle Nathan. After the death of my parents, I always felt that I was left with mental scars as well as the physical ones. The feminine part of me hated the way I looked. I felt as though I could hide the mental scars, but the long scar on my face always brought questions, stares, even jokes.

  Knock, knock. “Can I come in?”

  “Yeah,” I grumbled. “Welp, that was thoughtful.”

  “What you mean?” he asked, fingering my newly done hair.

  I knew what he was doing. I slid away from his touch. “Stop! Nice bag. Who just puts money in a bag for somebody he supposedly cares about?”

  “What kind of woman don’t like money? And what you mean stop? Now I can’t touch you?” He continued to move my hair, making it cover my eye as much as possible.

  “Stop. Damn.”

  Just watching him move and look so stupid made me think about how we met. Dro and I met in such a bright light, I could barely fathom how things went so dark. How so much time had passed but no growth had happened was mind-boggling. The nigga Deardo, known to the hood as Dro, had been around since my very first day of high school. Dro was my first everything. Hell, he was my only thus far. Yeah, I was grown ass with only one sex partner. But anyway, it’d been years and many different bitches. I knew the nigga’s parents. He even had a consistent girlfriend he’d had for about two years now. Why was I even entertaining him? I hated change. I mean, shit, I hated even going to new schools.

  As well as I knew Salena, I was sure her ass probably already expressed her feelings about Deardo, also known as Dro. Deardo, ugh. I should’ve kept it pushing once I learned his real name. But anyway, she had all the reasons in the world to not deal with that nigga at all. For as long as I’d known her, Salena had always had a protective nature. If she wore her feelings on her sleeve, she wore her hate for Dro on her forehead with braille letters so that even a blind man couldn’t miss it. Yup, her hate for him ran that deep. But when somebody you were rooting for lets you down, that shit hurts.

  But anyway, let me take you back to the day I met fine-ass Dro. Don’t judge me. He was fine. I just disliked the fact that he was a simple-minded, ol’ “I give a fuck what people think” nigga. Woosah.

  It was the first day of my ninth-grade year at Denby High School. I’d just met a girl named Salena the same day, and she was cool. All of the students were made to meet in the auditorium to pick up their class schedules. I was so nervous about meeting new people. The pressure wasn’t that strong because I at least had Salena with me. While I was new to the school and area, Salena wasn’t. She knew enough people from the hood.

  “I’m mad as hell that we gotta wear these weak-ass uniforms. It’s almost like they want us all to look the same. How this shit gon’ start as soon as we finally get to high school?” Salena was pissed.

  “I’m happy about it. I don’t need nothing else to bring any more attention to me. I just want to blend in,” I admitted, tugging on my uniform shirt and trying to stretch it over my booty.

  “You kill me saying that shit. You were born to be different. If God wanted you to be the same, then He would’ve made us twins. You pretty even with that shit on your face. You see these bitches?” Salena pointed to an ugly girl walking by, causing me to chuckle. I still finger combed my deep swoop, making sure at least a portion of my scar was covered. At least then it wouldn’t seem as bad. Well, at least that’s the rationale that I came up with in my head.

  “Damn, she got a fat ass.”

  There were different groups of students standing around and trying to get into the auditorium. That statement caused me to wonder two things: who had said that and who were they talking about?

  All the people who were around looked up, trying to be nosey.

  I still to this day asked God why I even looked up. Maybe if I would’ve ignored it, then shit wouldn’t have gotten hectic. Once I turned around, that’s when shit just went left.

  “Ugh. Damn, what the fuck is that on her face though? All that ass with that ugly-ass scar on her face.”

  I swear I was stuck. Me and this boy actually caught eyes. That was all the confirmation I needed to know that he was talking about me. My feelings were all over the place. I couldn’t stop the tears even if I tried. It was almost as if a floodgate opened up, releasing an ocean that was my tears. In my head, I was slapping the shit out of this nigga. I was lost as to why he was fucking with me. My back was to the nigga, so he couldn’t say I was staring at him or anything.

  “Bitch, you got me fucked up!” Salena snapped me from my shock. I quickly reached out, grabbing her shirt and pulling her toward me. Shit, if anybody was going to check this nigga, then it would be me. I had some emotional scars, true. I had a lot of shit going on, but I wasn’t soft by a long shot. What would I look like having Salena swing first? I was cool if she swung second, though.

  “What y’all bitches gon’ do? How the fuck you mad ’cause that shit on yo’ face got some shit on its face?”

  When this nigga said that, a small crowd erupted in laughter while others lo
oked at me with pity. To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. Something in me snapped. I mean I knew I couldn’t take this stocky-ass nigga out. But I wanted to. I didn’t even have time to call my uncle. I thought back to something my daddy taught me about fighting before he died: “If you feel scared, there is no such thing as fighting fair. Fuck it, there is no such thing as fighting fair period. Play to win, baby! It’s either you or them. You ain’t no boxer, so you don’t have any rules to abide by.”

  I put my head down as if I were just walking by the unnamed boy. Once I was close enough, I balled up my fist, hitting him dead in the center of his nose. This precision hit caused his nose to start leaking instantly. How did I know to hit him there? Shit, I was from the hood. I heard that’s where you aim. Honestly, that was pure luck. I figured no matter if I got my ass beaten or not, I hit his ass.

  “Dog. What the fuck?” the dude yelled while he stood there in shock for a couple of seconds. I was sure he expected me to maybe talk a little shit but not to actually hit him.

  “Oh shit.” Salena snapped me out of my daze. I started backing up. It was at that moment that I knew I fucked up.

  “Nah, bitch, you ain’t getting off that easy!” Next thing I knew Salena was pulling me away, but something wasn’t right because I felt an even bigger, stronger, more forceful pull. That pull landed both me and Salena on the floor, confused as fuck.

  “Nigga, you about to really try to fight some females?”

  This deep voice came from deep in the center of the sea of people. I could’ve sworn I saw the light, a hand reaching to me from the heavens.

  Sike. LOL. Let me find out y’all ain’t never seen The Wood. But nah, anyway.

  I heard a deep voice yell out to the boy, stopping him from pummeling me.

  “Fuck this ugly-ass bitch! Dro, this ain’t got shit to do with you. This bitch hit me!”

  “Nigga, you think I’m about to continue to let you talk slick to some females? You always on this fuck shit, arguing with females and shit. And I’m damn sure not about to let you hit her.”