Want Some, page 6
Everyone stared close. Even Vernita peered in. The movie showed a young woman rolling around naked in bed.
“She posed for it. Look at her dry humping that bed!” Joan got so close, the set touched her nose. “Look at those overgrown breasts and that awful behind rising.” Joan snatched out the tape and carefully sat down. “I tell you it’s just plain dis-gusting!”
To Joan, a behind standing high was plain vile. She didn’t understand why black women stuck their butts out like that. They should hide it, or drape it with long flowing fabric. Or walk like her own mother had taught her to do—with her hips jutting forward and her behind tucked back in.
“And her hair? Just as nappy as can be!” Joan sucked her teeth and shook her head back and forth, like Trudy’s natural hair was a sin. “It’s a shame the poor girl looks like her father. She didn’t get anything from me.”
Pearl stared amazed at her younger sister but decided to hold her tongue.
The other women didn’t know what to say. Joan made them feel small. She was so knowledgeable, so dignified; she looked so damn rich. She didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out but you’d never know it by the elaborate way she dressed. She stared at the other women, flipping her long red wig hair. See, this was the nineties. The sixties were long gone. All that black pride had turned into perms, fades and weaves. Extensions were the only rage now.
Joan yanked the tape from the black cassette holder.
“She’s my daughter, so I can say whatever I want.” Joan pinched her nose and clenched her china-cabinet dentures.
“She’s a slut. She’s a big lying bitch. Turned out to be just like her father. Didn’t get any of my family’s genes.” Joan flipped her fake hair and looked at her sister, daring Pearl to comment. She picked up an Essence magazine and eyed the dark-skinned woman on the front cover. “Nobody that dark should wear white.”
Flo stared at herself in the mirror a long time. Her body wasn’t that different from Trudy’s. They were about the same size, had the same drenched-maple skin; Joan easily could have been talking about her. Flo rushed from the shop and raced down the street. All the hair-burning fumes were making her sick. She was glad to get out of there today.
5
Vernita and Trudy
Trudy waited in her car until the last person left Vernita’s shop. She watched Vernita click the lights, twist the deadbolt and pull back the grate until it latched.
“Vernita!” Trudy whispered once she got near her window.
Vernita jumped and her purse slammed against a shop door.
“Damn, girl, you scared me. What are you doing here? I know none your braids have fallen a loose ’cause I tightened you up good myself.” Vernita leaned in and examined Trudy’s brown scalp.
“Get in,” Trudy said. “I need to talk to you a minute.”
Trudy opened the passenger’s side and Vernita glided right in. She handed her a heavy paper bag.
“What’s this?” Vernita asked, peering inside. “Ah, girl, you sho’ know what a working girl likes.” Vernita pulled a pink wine cooler out from the bag. Twisting off the top, she took a deep, thirsty swig.
“Damn, girl, it’s hot. I been doing heads all day.” Vernita placed the cold bottle against her forehead.
“So did you talk to Lil Steve? Did he take the bait?”
“Girl, please,” Vernita said. “Mommie knows how to talk to a man. That boy took the bait and ran with it, chile. He and Ray Ray been whispering all day.”
A girl with a cute, sassy bob pulled up across the street. When Vernita saw the girl, her expression completely changed. And even as she downed two more large gulps, her eyes never left the car’s dash.
“That’s that Keesha girl I was telling you about.” Vernita watched Keesha get out of her brand-new black Nissan. “Trained her myself. Taught her all my hair tricks. Now the bitch up and got her own shop.”
Keesha’s shop was half a block from Vernita’s. Vernita’s business had slumped as soon as it opened. Even her regulars were starting to peek in on Keesha, and all the new business went there without fail.
“She got lots of exotic plants and them red chairs I wanted and wood cabinets that go from the ceiling to the floor.” When Vernita downed the rest of her cooler, Trudy handed her another one from the bag.
“She’s been stealing my customers. Takin’ ’em all, one by one. Last month I had to go into my stash to make rent, and this month is fifty times worse.”
“Nobody does hair as good as you, girl.” Trudy tried to cheer her friend up. She saw the pain in her eyes.
“I swear no one out here is loyal no more. I really helped that girl. Taught her everything I knew, and this is my fucking thanks.”
They watched Keesha lock the gleaming black car.
“I oughtta key her new shit now.” Vernita opened Trudy’s door.
“Don’t be stupid, Vernita!” Trudy held her friend’s arm. “You know that won’t solve nothing. Don’t stoop down to her level. Besides, I think I can help.” Trudy looked straight in her eyes.
“How?” Vernita asked, staring back.
Trudy took a wine cooler from the bag and drank half.
“’Member what we did working the hash line in high school?”
“Hell yeah, I remember. How could I forget? Both our arms hung heavy at the end of the day from all that money we stuck up our sleeves.”
“’Member that ol’ white lady that worked with us too? She loved your ass. You couldn’t do no wrong.”
Vernita smiled and added more gloss to her lips. “She was sweet. Just a little ol’ grandmommie type. I stole steady next to her every day.”
“She was sweet ’cause her lily ass thought you was white.”
“She did not!”
“Yes she did. All of ’em thought that. ’Cause when everyone got caught and they asked us all those questions, they interviewed everyone except you.”
“’Cause I was good. Color had nothing to do with it.”
“Good my black ass,” Trudy shot back. “Them white folks thought you was one of them is what it was.”
“Well, I can’t help what stupid white folks think.”
“And you never said different. You sat there all quiet.”
“Well, what was I supposed to do, huh? Scream in their face, ‘Hey, y’all forgot one. Come over here. I want you to question me too?’ Shoot, just ’cause their lily-white asses were dumb didn’t mean I had to be.”
Trudy always noticed how people treated Vernita. Her skin tone made folks treat her less harsh. Like they were glad to have her around. Vernita’s hair was real long and feathered back then. Trudy never understood why she’d cut it off.
“All I want you to do is what you did then.”
“What?” Vernita asked with her piercing light eyes.
“I just want you to play white.”
Vernita’s eyebrows rose up. She lowered the bottle to her lap. “A white girl. What, you’re asking me to pass? You want me to play an ofay?”
Trudy knew that Vernita felt this was a personal insult. Although she was as light as most white folks come, she never considered herself anything but black.
“Why I gotta play white for your big plan to work?”
“’Cause a white girl in a bank does not look suspicious. White girls got privileges us dark sisters don’t. They can walk anyplace and no one ever thinks twice. People don’t follow them in stores like they’re gonna take something. White girls got it easy. No one suspects them. They’re like American Express. They just glide through the system and nobody ever thinks twice.” Trudy pulled a blond wig and a beautiful white linen suit from out the back seat. “Just put this on. No one will ever know you’re there. All I want you to do is be a decoy.”
“I thought all you wanted was to get Lil Steve. Pay his ass back for dogging you so bad. Now you want me to be a damn white decoy too.”
“I do, but I been thinking about it, Vernita. We can dog him and get paid ourselves.”
“‘We’? I ain’t down for robbing no banks. Y’all can be a fool by yourself.”
“I’m not asking you to rob the damn bank, Vernita. You said yourself you wanted to redo your shop. Come on, girl, I need your help.”
“So me helping means I have to act like I’m white.”
Trudy smiled at her friend. “Well, I sure can’t do it.” Trudy stroked her dark skin and fingered her long braids.
“Get some Porcelana, hell. Rub that fade cream shit on,” Vernita said sarcastically.
“Yeah, that’s right.” Trudy downed a swig herself. “I’ll turn white when pigs fly.”
“Well, hell, look at Michael. Homeboy had his shit dyed.”
“And I’ll look like I’m going to a Halloween party. Look, you did it in high school. How is this any different?” Trudy stared down the litter-strewn street.
“I wasn’t doing it in high school! I can’t help what fools think. And I damn sure wasn’t robbin’ no banks. We just took a few bucks from the hash line, my God!” Vernita stared at her friend. Trudy had changed a lot lately. “You got cocky ever since you started working at Dee’s. Them drunks and small-time thieves got you thinking like them.”
“Just help me, Vernita. I gotta leave this place. I’m staying in that backyard unit near Western. It took me five weeks to get the place clean.”
Vernita had seen Trudy’s place. All the walls were rotten. The pipes leaked and someone had burned a hole in the floor. Lots of hard-looking people lived next door. She looked at Trudy’s strained face. “Girl, don’t be dumb. Just call her and tell your mother you want to come home. I’m sure y’all can work this thing out.”
Trudy stared at all the trash leading to the liquor store door. A man stopped near their car and leaned toward her window. He licked his lips slow before speaking.
“Hey, movie girl,” he said, grabbing between his legs. “I think I got what you need. Let me get a whiffa yo’ stuff!”
“Step the fuck off,” Trudy yelled sharply, “or you’re gonna need to get some new teeth.”
“Bitches!” The man spat, walking away fast.
“I can’t stand it here anymore. It’s getting worse and worse. I can’t go anywhere without someone saying something or grabbing me or throwing things at me. And the women are as horrible as the men.”
“Ignore them. Or do what you just did, tell ’em to step the fuck off.”
“I do, but it’s hard.” Trudy’s eyes filled with tears. “They’re vicious, Vernita, the comments are much worse. That movie Lil Steve did really ruined my life. If I could take five minutes back, I swear, it would be that. I can’t stand to walk down the street anymore. I got to do this job so I can get the hell out.”
Vernita stared at her friend. She really wanted to help Trudy. She knew everything she said was true. She’d heard those cruel comments firsthand. But hitting a bank was no god damn joke.
“This ain’t high school. This is a fuckin’ bank you’re talking. Cameras be everywhere. Even in the bathrooms. This ain’t like taking nickels and quarters from school,” she said.
“Look, I’ve already thought this thing through. We don’t have to touch any of the money. Lil Steve does the work for us. He handles the drama. All you do is play decoy and leave.”
Keesha must have forgotten something, because she ran from her beauty shop and out to her Nissan again. Her silver rims sparkled in the streetlight.
Vernita looked seriously back at her friend. “All you want me to do is walk in. That’s all?”
“I’m telling you that’s it. No sweat, I promise.”
“I don’t want to get caught.” Vernita stared dead into her eyes.
“Being caught is not even an option, Vernita. See, we’re not the ones who’ll be doing the crime. That punk who fucked up my life, that’s his god damn job. Not getting caught is Lil Steve’s problem. You and me are going to be fine.”
6
Ray and Lil Steve
“Wake up, you homeless muthafucker!” Tony screamed loud. He was banging on Lil Steve’s fender. It was nine o’clock at night and the streetlights were on. A slight mist had fallen on the lawn.
Lil Steve was sound asleep in the backseat of his car. The pounding sound made him bump his head against the door. He saw Tony’s sour face pressed against the window. He knew what Tony wanted, but Lil Steve remained calm. As his head throbbed, he reached over and put his Ray-Bans back on. Then he slowly rolled the window halfway down.
“If you give me two weeks, I’ll pay it all back with interest.”
Tony smiled at Lil Steve. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “If ifs were fifths, we’d all be drunk. Now pay up and don’t give me no lip.” He wasn’t about to be intimidated by this dumb stupid punk whose dick just got big last week.
Lil Steve pulled up his pants leg and peeled down his sock, taking a C-note out from his ankle.
Tony stared at the bill like it was nothing. “You ’bout four yards short.” Tony lit his match, sucking his lips hard against his Winston.
“I’ma have it by Friday,” Lil Steve told him coldly.
“You better have, Junior.” Tony’s gummy grin was broad. He dropped his lit match on the front seat of the car. It made a tiny burn mark on the oily green vinyl. “If you don’t, you gonna need to get a new home.” Tony grabbed the money and walked to Johnny’s Pastrami. He ordered three pastramis, two fries and a Coke before laboriously getting back in his Caddy. Lil Steve leaned forward, watching him close out of his clean sideview mirrors. He rolled down the window, grabbed the parking ticket from under the wiper, balled it up and tossed it out toward the gutter.
“Yeah, get yo’ fat ass back in yo’ ride.” Lil Steve took another hundred from under the car mat and jammed it inside his sock. He got out of his car and wiped the chrome of his Impala. He folded the rag and put it back in the trunk. The car might be old and nicked on one fender, but Lil Steve kept his ride clean.
Lil Steve sprayed Armor All on the burn mark and flicked the match out. “Muthafucka,” he said under his breath.
In the criminal world there were all kinds of types. Gangsters, straight thugs who would murder your mama and not shed one drop. Ballers who pulled up in white, gleaming Bimmers to hand out their small rocks to sell. Players and pimps who liked dealing women and hid in a shroud of giant permed hair with fat gold chains waxing their necks. Hustlers were the ones you got free cable from. Sold those black bootleg boxes at a hundred a pop. Or maybe they worked for the phone company once or some video shop and walked home with a bag full of tools or a catalog of CDs and movies. They did insurance fraud, real estate and credit card scams. They might carry guns, but they weren’t your murdering type. Just had heat if some shit broke off raw.
See, Lil Steve was one of these. A confidence man. The kind you got to do the talking. He’d only been to juvie on a credit card scam. He walked and talked fast. Always thought he was smarter. His young-looking face lived on a stack of fake ID’s. He prided himself on never getting caught. Never went to the pen once. You could tell by the crazy way he talked.
“Chili dog, chili dog!” Lil Steve screamed to Ray Ray. He walked the short blocks to Dee’s Parlor.
Ray Ray was standing outside against the wall. He had just been hired as a bouncer.
“What’s hap’nin, man?” Ray Ray smiled back.
Big Percy grinned too, giving Lil Steve a pound.
“Walk with me a minute,” Lil Steve whispered to Ray Ray. He threw a quick glance at Big Percy’s back. “Nosy brother always trying to co-sign.”
Ray Ray’s black leather jacket blew in the night breeze. Lil Steve stopped when they got out of earshot.
“Every word I tol’ you is the got damn truth, man. This dude is like clockwork. Every Friday at three o’clock he strolls in the bank with his double-breasted suit and puts in twenty-five grand. Blam! Just like that.” Lil Steve popped his fingers into Ray Ray’s burnt face. He took out a Kool and lit up the end. The match glowed against his baby-smooth skin. “But at the end of the month he takes the whole hundred out.” Lil Steve pulled the tab on a Colt 45. He kept the can inside the brown paper bag.
“All we got to do is follow the dude and jack his ass on the ride home. Simple as that. Easy money, homie. That’s fifty G’s apiece in our pockets.” Lil Steve took a swig from the bag. He passed it to Ray Ray to sip.
Ray Ray waved the can away. He leaned against the wall. He stayed icy cool, but everyone knew he was crazy. He’d already done time for battery and assault and the word was still out on the boy in a coma. If the parents unplugged him and the little kid died, they could still charge Ray Ray with murder. That’s the kind of dude Ray Ray was. Straight thug. Strong-arm man. Half Panamanian, ex-heroin addict, and you’d better watch out when his temper flared up ’cause there was no telling what he might do with a knife.
Ray Ray’s narrowed eyes sliced into Lil Steve’s face. Homeboy always came up with these crazy-ass schemes. Nigga talked more shit than anybody he knew, but they’d been best friends since fourth grade.
“Who told you about the suit, dog?” Ray Ray asked casually.
“Vernita hooked me up. Her girl Trudy works there.” Lil Steve took another swig from the can and looked down. He never looked Ray Ray in the eye when Trudy’s name came up. “Homechick still got the best ass on the block!”
“Shouldn’t have let that one go,” Ray Ray said matter of factly. Ray Ray had learned early to keep his emotions in check. No one knew how he really felt about Trudy. Like a cellblock, he looked colder than concrete.
“Man, I know,” Lil Steve said, wiping his mouth. “I done had plenty but Trudy was the best. That girl had a whole lot of heart.”
They both stopped and watched a woman walk down the street. She balanced a fat grocery bag on her hip. Her thin skirt swirled around her large calves.
“A bitch’ll flip the switch once she knows yo’ ass is sprung,” Ray Ray said, flicking his ash. “No point going out like some punk.” He said that last part more to himself. Jail had given Ray Ray a long time to think. “So, y’all still hang?” Ray Ray asked casually.
