Chapter Fourteen

Mouse

Erica was living her life, being comfortable, but I felt that I was simply surviving. With me giving her 65 percent of every dime I made every time we hit the track, it wasn’t any real money. It would take me forever to save for a place of my own at the rate I was going. Meanwhile, Erica had other schemes going on with Cream and she was buying nice clothing, jewelry, and doing her in pleasing ways. I felt like the wicked stepchild, me and my daughter. Whatever my daughter needed, I paid for it. Erica only did us that one solid when I first arrived to appease me, to get me to work for her. But now, she wasn’t buying my daughter shit. I did for Eliza with my blood, sweat, and tears. It made me rethink and evaluate my whole situation.

I wasn’t going to be able to come up on my own while I was still living with Erica and owing her all the time, and with Cream steady trying to fuck me while Erica wasn’t looking. The nigga was a creep. The way he would look at me and come on to me, I wanted to knock his teeth out. I wasn’t about to degrade myself that low; it was bad enough strangers got a piece of me on the track, but it wasn’t about to happen where I slept, shit, and ate, and especially with Erica’s man. He thought he was a pimp, but he was nothing but a lowlife, a disgusting pig who took advantage of women.

Cream was one of a few pimps who tried to persuade me to come under them, to choose them for protection in the streets. See, I may have been living with Erica and Cream, but I wasn’t his bitch. I was too stubborn and boorish to have that muthafucka brainwash me into slaving me into lifetime prostitution. He was trying to acquire a stable of hoes to work for him. I wasn’t about to be one of them.

However, Cream was the least of my problems. It was a pimp named Cat Head I strongly felt I needed to worry about. He was a gorilla pimp in the game who frequently saw me working the track. When the warm weather started to come around, more and more girls started to come out to the track. I got into a few conflicts with a few of Cat Head’s bitches in Hunts Point. We fought over territory like drug dealers; like in the game, working the right territory mattered and Cat Head and his bitches tried to drive us away from the prime real estate. But Erica and I were the ones working Oak Point Avenue from top to bottom when it was freezing cold, and we weren’t about to be run off like some scared bitches.

However, Cat Head took a serious liking to me. He would approach me when the chance came around and he would try to smooth talk me into joining his stable. He would mention how all of his hoes were well taken care of, from clothes, money, food, having a nice place to stay, to traveling around the country. He took his bitches to Vegas, Miami, Atlanta, Chicago, L.A, and Houston and so on. They were area code hoes. He was pimping some beautiful women and he wanted me.

Cat Head made Cream look like a bitch. Cream was all talk, trying to play a part that he wasn’t meant to play, where Cat Head was nothing but bark, a fierce muthafucka who buss his gun and could be extremely violent. Whenever Cat Head came around, I noticed Cream was never around. He would disappear like Houdini, and then come back around whenever Cat Head was done talking to me. I had no respect for a bitch-ass nigga. Also, I wasn’t about to join Cat Head’s stable. I barely liked working with Erica, and the reputation Cat Head had was a whirlwind of trouble coming my way, no matter where he took his girls and how much he spent on them. Word on the street was it was hell in his camp if you disobeyed any of his rules or if he felt you disrespected him. He was a gorilla pimp, and those the niggas any bitch would stay away from. He was known to use brute force, excessive head twisting and arm breaking, and some of his bitches be looking rough and beat up.

But the nigga was persistent in trying to snatch me up and it was becoming scary. It got to the point where I felt he would try to kidnap me.

“You’s one fine-ass bitch, Diamond. You and me, we would kill this game and make so much money. Shit you’d be straight fo’ the rest of ya life,” Cat Head said to me. “I would definitely make you my bottom bitch.”

No matter what he said or how he said it, I wasn’t interested. But gorilla pimps are excessive and relentless. The word no wasn’t in their vocabulary.

The Juice Bar was a place where everyone went to unwind, get their drink on, listen to good music, and mingle. The pimps came to the place to show off their stable and solicit their women. The ladies came to display their sexy attire and maybe catch them a baller, and the ballers came to flaunt their wealth and probably snatch up a juicy booty call for the evening. Everyone came to the Juice Bar on East Gun Hill Road. It was a decent spot in a mutual location.

I was there with Erica sipping on a cognac and Coke. We sat at the bar talking, enjoying the evening, and chilling. She was buying and I was drinking. I needed the break. However, Cat Head walked into the place with two of his whores. He was dressed in a pricey leather bomber, a Yankees fitted, and bejeweled in white gold and diamond, looking excessive with his wardrobe.

The minute Cat Head noticed me seated at the bar with Erica, he grinned and came my way. He looked at me like I was some object of his desire. His dark eyes became fixated on me like a fat kid seeing cake and he strode my way leaving his two hoes behind and rubbing his thick goatee like some smooth cat daddy. He was bad news.

I sighed. Erica saw him coming and she looked annoyed too. He was upsetting her. In her mind, Cat Head was a threat; him desperately trying to snatch me away was like taking food out of her mouth. I was temporarily under her thumb until I came into my own and taking 65 percent from me every night did add up into a healthy profit. I was a bad bitch and everyone wanted me, for pleasure and profit.

“Ladies, good evening,” Cat Head greeted us and invited himself into our personal space. “Diamond, you look lovely tonight, like always, but I can make you shine like brand new every day, you hear me. I’m like Robin Hood, I take from the rich, the poor too, and I keep it and my bitches prosper from it too,” he added. He pulled out a wad of hundred dollar bills and flossed in front of us.

“Drinks on me tonight, ladies, I can afford it,” Cat Head boasted, peeling off two hundred-dollar bills and dropping it on the bar.

Yeah, it was ladies now, but bitches later. He was a wolf in sheepskin clothing, the devil in disguise. And I wasn’t impressed with his flaunting. He placed his arm around me and continued his flattering pimp talk like I really cared.

“You know when all the buildings fall pimpin’ gon’ still be tall, you feel me, and a woman’s legs are her best friends, but sometimes best friends have to part, ya feel me? ‘There are two types of people: those that talk the talk and those that walk the walk. People who walk the walk sometimes talk the talk but most times they don’t talk at all, ’cause they walkin’. Now people who talk the talk, when it comes time for them to walk the walk, you know what they do? They talk people like me into walkin’ for them.’ You feel me?”

What the fuck? What was he talking about? And I swear he got that from some famous movie. But he was preaching to me this pimp talk as if I was listening. He was intense with his words and wasn’t gonna give up on me. He talked to me like getting down with him was going to fix all of my problems, seducing me with fortune and moving to some utopia.

I wasn’t sold and I was never gonna be sold.

I wanted him to go away. He wasn’t. He invaded my world like an alien invasion. No one in the place wanted to mess with Cat Head because of his reputation, but when I saw Tango walk into the Juice Bar I felt it was all about to change.

Cat Head was still talking to me while I was looking at Tango. Inwardly I smiled seeing Tango. I admit I liked him. I liked the way he talked to me, and even better, the way he would look at me, like I was the last woman on this earth and he was going to cherish me. It made me feel good, especially now with the hell I was going through.

He came alone, clad in a leather jacket and Tims and looking finer than ever. He had this image about him that screamed bad boy and I was attracted to him. He noticed me and smiled, but that smile was short-lived when he saw Cat Head cozying next to me and being in my ear. The look that shifted in his eyes said he was fuming. He must have felt that Cat Head was trying to snatch his dream girl away from him, because I suddenly saw hell in his eyes.

He marched my way with a scowl. In my gut I knew it was a storm coming. Cat Head and Tango mixing with each other, it was like a tornado meeting with a volcano. It could get ugly, become a natural disaster, and affect everyone around them.

“Hey, beautiful,” Tango said to me coolly.

He hugged me right in front of Cat Head and smiled. He didn’t even acknowledge Cat Head. His attention was fixated on me like Cat Head was invisible. I could tell in Tango’s eyes that he was annoyed by this pimp talking to me. But he gave me my love and attention first like he was claiming his woman. But I wasn’t his woman, not yet anyway. He glared at Cat Head almost daring him to say something. And Erica stared at them both like she was waiting for the main event to happen.

“Let me buy you a drink,” said Tango.

“She already got a drink, nigga,” Cat Head chimed.

“Nigga, I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” Tango barked. “And who is this muthafucka anyway?”

“You fuckin’ wit’ the wrong pimp,” Cat Head rebuked him. “Don’t worry who the fuck I am.”

“Nigga, get the fuck out my face and stay the fuck away from my woman.”

“Nigga, ya bitch chose me!” Cat Head exclaimed.

He was now talking crazy. I chose no one. But right now I had these two thugs ready to fight over me. I sat in between them and felt like I was in a tug of war match. They weren’t physically pulling me, but the way they went back and forth with harsh words about me, it was dizzying.

“Y’all need to fuckin’ chill,” I chimed. But my statement was nothing but a whisper from a mountaintop and they were down at the bottom. They didn’t hear shit.

“Nigga, she don’t need ya fuckin’ kind in ya life. You fake-ass pimp,” Tango insulted him. “Step the fuck off!”

“My kind? Nigga, my kind make five to ten grand a night, you broke-ass nigga. I can give my bitches whatever they fuckin’ want and travel the world. What can you give her, muthafucka?” Cat Head retorted.

By now both men were in each other’s face, glaring at each other and shouting heatedly. The entire place took notice. I didn’t know what to do. The inevitable was about to happen. Tango continued to be very disrespectful toward Cat Head. He said words to the pimp that would get any man killed. But the challenging look in Tango’s eyes told me it was about to get uglier and their argument continued to ensue right there.

It came out of nowhere, the attack on Cat Head. The beer bottle smashed against Cat Head’s head shattering to pieces and staggered the man. I stood aghast. It was so sudden. Shards of glass from the broken beer bottle got on me. Tango was all over Cat Head, pummeling the man down to the ground with his fists. He hit him and hit him, and hit him, not missing, and every punch coming from Tango seemed to echo like an explosion happening in the room.

“Don’t fuck wit’ me, nigga,” Tango screamed out.

Cat Head was on the ground trying to protect himself, but Tango was a beast. It looked like a housecat trying to fight a lion. Tango was too strong. He hit Cat Head so bad I thought he killed him. And then he punched and stomped the man viciously into the floor. Tango raised his Timberland boot almost like fifty feet in the air and they came crashing down on Cat Head like the sky was falling. He howled from the pain and looked completely helpless.

“You a bitch-ass nigga!” Tango shouted.

It was almost like he zoned out and attacked and attacked like his own life had been threatened. I was afraid Tango was going to kill this man.

I just stood there and watched. I admit, I was part turned on and part scared at the brutality. It took a few workers at the bar to pull Tango off of him. He roughly resisted, but they finally pulled Tango off the man; it looked like they had to lift a concrete slab off a crushed man. He was adamant to finish what he started. It took hordes of security to pull Tango away. The man was difficult to control, but eventually they did and the beating came to an end.

When I finally got a look at Cat Head, he looked like he had been mauled by an animal. He was bleeding profusely with his face bruised and swollen, and he couldn’t get off the floor. Tango demolished Cat Head’s vicious and gorilla pimp reputation. He embarrassed the man in front of everyone.

Tango looked at me and then shot his eyes down at the man he had severely beaten, and then he suddenly took off, leaving the bar like it was on fire. I assumed the realization suddenly hit him that he was on parole. And that fight would have been a straight violation.

“Damn, he fucked him up,” Erica said, smirking.

She hated Cat Head. I kind of felt sorry for him.

There was a part of me that wanted to go chase after Tango and make sure he was okay, but I didn’t. I figured he would be long gone by now and maybe he wanted to be alone. I watched two of Cat Head’s whores help their pimp off the floor. They both looked traumatized by the ass whooping he received. When Cat Head was finally on his feet, he flipped out. He roughly pushed them away, screaming, “Get the fuck off me, I’m okay! I’m fuckin’ okay.”

No, he wasn’t. He looked like chopped meat.

He placed his hand on his face and it was coated with blood. He used the bar for support, still looking dazed and confused, bleeding from everywhere. I hadn’t seen an ass whooping like that in a long time. It was almost humorous to witness, but insane to watch. The man was in terrible shape. His edgy and flashy persona was tainted now.

Cat Head turned and looked at me deadpan. We locked eyes but he didn’t say a word to me. He was trying to tend to his injuries but the nigga needed a hospital. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but I had a clue; he probably blamed me and wanted to know everything about Tango. It wasn’t about to end with them.

His two whores went back over to attend to their pimp’s injuries, but once again he heatedly shoved them away and cursed at them. His pride had been bruised just like his face. I felt it was time for us to leave. Erica and I removed ourselves from the bar with Cat Head licking his wounds and trying to put his pride back together, shouting, “I’m gonna find that muthafucka. He’s dead. He’s fuckin’ dead!” but not even a skilled surgeon could piece that back together. What was done was done.

As we exited the Juice Bar, Erica said to me, “You must be like the Helen of Troy, got these two beasts fighting over you.”

I wasn’t amused by her statement. I was worried about Tango. I looked around for him outside but he was nowhere around.

Erica hailed a cab; I was also concerned about Cat Head storming out of the bar to confront me. I kept looking back at the entrance thinking the worst, this mean pimp taking his anger and frustration out on me. He definitely wasn’t a stranger to putting his hands on women. I knew Erica and I weren’t any different and we were vulnerable outside. It also only took one phone call for him to make and he could have his goons on the hunt. I had a daughter to go home to.

Thank God a gypsy cab stopped for us. Erica and I quickly climbed inside with me feeling like this was the chariot to heaven. I wanted to get home.

“We goin’ to Edenwald, 233rd Street,” Erica told the driver.

He drove away with me gazing through the back window seeing if there was going to be any activity bursting out from the Juice Bar. But nothing; my view faded the farther he drove. I finally turned around and felt relieved. But this wasn’t about to be over. I knew it deep in my heart. Tango assaulted a man who was known to shoot muthafuckas even though he was a pimp; he was a dangerous man. And I couldn’t help but to think what was going to be the outcome with me and him when he saw me on the track at nights. I already had static with his bitches, but since Cat Head had a thing for me, the confrontations didn’t get that serious. Would that now all change?

But still, I thought about Tango and couldn’t help to be worried about him. He was on my mind, from the time he stormed out of the bar up until I climbed into bed and closed my eyes to get some sleep. It had been a hectic evening.

 

Two days later, I saw Tango lingering in my lobby. I walked out of the elevator and was startled to see him standing there. I was alone, heading toward the bodega to pick up a few snacks and some drinks for the night. It looked like he was waiting for me, but how did he know where I lived?

“Tango, what are you doing down here?” I asked him.

“I came to talk to you,” he replied.

“How did you know what building I lived in?”

“It wasn’t hard. I got peoples who know you.”

I looked at him. He seemed cool, stoic. He wore a leather jacket and stood some distance from me. The look in his eyes appeared that he was upset about the other night. He had his hands in his coat pocket and fidgeted in front of me somewhat.

“I’m sorry ’bout the other night, Mouse. It shouldn’t have gone down like that,” he said.

“You put that man in the hospital.”

“I just lost my temper. Seeing that nigga up on you like that, it made me snap.”

“But you put my life in danger too, Tango. Cat Head, he’s not gonna forget about this. He’s gonna come looking for revenge when he get out of the hospital. I know for a fact he got goons on standby,” I told him.

“I got ya back, Mouse. I can take care of you. I can protect you.”

“How?” I barked out. “How you gonna take care of me, Tango? You just came home. You don’t have a job and you live at home wit’ ya mother, if I’m correct.”

“I’m workin’ on sumthin’.”

I sighed. It was good to hear a man say he was going to look out for me, but I had to come to my senses. Tango wasn’t even in the position to take care of himself. He may have been the man back in the days, but now it was different; times had changed.

Tango stepped closer to me. He stared at me with his drunken eyes of passion and said, “I’m gonna make sumthin’ happen, Mouse. I promise that you won’t have to work the track any longer or worry ’bout Cat Head.”

“Why, you planning to do sumthin’ to him?”

“Nah,” he drawled out.

“Then what?” I wanted to know.

“It’s just sumthin’ I’m tryin’ to come up wit’.”

“You just came home, Tango. Don’t do anything stupid to get locked up again,” I said.

I was starting to care about him. I really wanted something to happen between us, but in the back of my mind, I doubted that a relationship could actually work with him. He was an ex-con, and from my experiences with ex-cons, they always find a way to get sent back to prison and leave their woman alone, probably pregnant. I already had one baby daddy inside. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake again.

“Trust me, Mouse; I have a friend who’s lookin’ out for me. He’s trying to get me this job in construction. It pays thirteen an hour, and after six months of probation, I can jump on their benefits. Once I get put on, you get put on. I’ll find us a place and take care of home. I’m tryin’ to do it right this time. I need to do it right. I can’t go back inside. I did ten years and I’m gettin’ too old for the same ol’ shit,” he proclaimed.

I smiled. It sounded nice. He sounded genuine about the job. I could see Tango doing construction. He had the build for it. He always seemed like he could be a hardworking man. We both wanted a way out of the hell we lived in, and if Tango was the man for me, then I would follow him wherever.

“When do you go for the job?” I asked.

“Next week.”

“Good luck.”

He smiled. “Thanks, ’cause I’m gonna need it.”

“You’ll get it.”

“You think?”

“I know you will,” I said with conviction.

He gazed at me. Once again, the way this man looked at me, it was every woman’s dream. He stared at me like I was his queen and the most beautiful and wonderful woman on the planet. He came closer and pulled me into his arms. Tango hugged me lovingly; his firm arms were wrapped around me like a blanket. He was strong, but always gentle with me. Next thing I knew, we were kissing each other passionately and I found myself not wanting to be let go from his arms.

Was it possible that I was actually falling in love with him so quickly? I didn’t know what it was, but I didn’t want it to ever end. I wanted to be taking care of and treated right. God knows that my last relationship ended up in chaos and regret. Rico did me so dirty and foul, that I swore off men forever. But Tango, he felt different. He didn’t have much right now, but he felt so real and bold.

I kissed him and found myself drifting into this utopia. I had my eyes closed and daydreamed about the suburbs, living like the Cosbys and finally leaving the ghetto for good. Did I believe Tango could actually make it happen for me? I didn’t know. I wanted to believe it. I needed to believe in something. Every night that I was on that track degrading myself for little cash, allowing strange men to ravage my body, it took something away from me, piece by piece.

We finally stopped kissing each other and I exhaled. Tango still held me in his arms and I wondered when this started to happen: a relationship. But it crept up on me. He didn’t care about my past, or my ways; he cared about me and my daughter. I couldn’t push him away. I couldn’t be scared of the uncertain. I just had to go with it and believe this one was going to work out.