Chapter Nine

London

It had been a little more than six hours since London had called Fatima to come and help her. In distress and disoriented, London woke up with all of her clothes torn off. There was blood on the sheets and every part of her body had been terribly violated. She needed a few stitches and the doctors at the hospital wanted her to call the authorities and report the sexual assault. London, embarrassed and ashamed, would have no part of the police. She didn’t confide in anyone except Fatima the true identity of who she knew had drugged and ultimately violated her.

When London revealed to Fatima the rapist’s name she was pissed all the way the fuck off. When she went to get London’s class drop slip signed from the professor’s bitch-ass, Fatima spit directly in his face, daring him to do or say something. Knowing he’d get undoubtedly fired or, worse than that, arrested and thrown in jail if the news of his dirty deed surfaced for all to know, he remained silent. He knew at this point, with Fatima’s saliva dripping down his face, it was true; he couldn’t say or do anything for fear of any police involvement. The professor, usually in total control of his antics, didn’t know how he’d let shit get so out of control this time. Lowering his head in shame, he just signed the withdraw slip and wiped his face off with a napkin.

London, after a short time recuperating, made her way to the rest of her classes that semester, and, although she was mentally stressed, maintained fairly good grades all things considered. Wanting to forget the entire tragic event, she finally made it to a few of those socially conscious meetings that she’d missed that night six months ago.

When Thanksgiving came, as well as Christmas, London had gone home with Fatima. It was nice being around a family, a real family, with people who loved each other. Fatima’s family were Muslim and didn’t celebrate Christmas but they still got together for a big dinner so they could all bond and catch one another up on their current activities. London, engulfed in the atmosphere of family, could tell where Fatima got her caring ways.

Besides a few calls here and there, it was like she had cut herself off entirely from her own small-sized family. Her uncle had his woman still send her money every now and then when she could, even though her man had gotten knocked again and was serving time. This bid unfortunately was for more than just a few months. He was doing a few years on a probation violation so any direct contact he had with London was limited to none.

It would soon be spring break and London would be going home for the first time since school had begun the previous year. Although she enjoyed college life despite what had happened between her and the professor, she did miss her twin sister Kenya. Sure they talked on the phone sometimes, but nothing could take the place of seeing her twin face to face. She needed to see her other half and make sure she was safe and sound.

Kenya

Kenya was doing it big at Heads Up. Ever since her first night of slinging that ass, she was getting more money than any other female in the spot. She was a topnotch dancer at the club and had multitudes of regulars who’d wait to give their money to her and only her. A lot of the other girls were mad jealous of her pole and twerking skills, but Kenya didn’t give a shit. She was there to make cash, not friends. Only her girl Raven was rolling with her in that motherfucker. The two of them were tight and got paid no matter what.

“Hey, girl, you making that money tonight!” Old Skool was sitting at the bar with Kenya, nursing a drink.

“Yeah, and you know it. I gotta get some new shit in my crib, maybe some heavy-duty steel doors or something like that.” Kenya was being careful and big on security. She knew that crackheads back in the hood knew that she was getting that dough.

Zack walked over to his two favorite ladies in the club and kissed Old Skool on the cheek. “What you two over here scheming on?” Zack smiled as he attentively watched Raven up on the stage under the lights, wowing the crowd.

“Well apparently Miss Tastey here needs to step up her paper game.” Old Skool put Kenya’s business out in the street.

“Oh yeah, okay, what’s the problem, Tastey, what you need?” He focused his attention back to them.

“Well, I think I need to switch up a little bit. I don’t want to get played out.” Caught up in the club life of mutual respect for a hardworking dancers’ world, she walked over to the stage and gave her girl some love. “Damn, why don’t you ho-ass niggas get ya panties out ya ass and tip a bitch?” She was going off on everyone within ear range who was gawking at Raven instead of throwing dollars. “What’s the problem? Did y’all losers leave your purses in the fucking car?”

The DJ even had to laugh at that shit as Zack, Old Skool, and Brother Rasul, who just walked up, stood by, watching Kenya go hard.

“Maybe we should think about putting Tastey on,” Zack pondered as Brother Rasul listened, not saying a word. “Kenya’s kinda green, but it might work if we work it right.”

Having a special place in his heart for the way she would carry herself nightly if she felt she was being disrespected, Brother Rasul always looked out for Kenya since day one. Kenya was a true hustler, not like most of the dick handlers in the club he’d watch sell their bodies for an extra dollar or two. The young girl was all about the money and the business that came with it. Brother Rasul shook his head and walked away, not wanting any part of what Zack was about to do. Zack was his boy and all, but he hated the way he took advantage of some of the girls.

Zack decided he would speak to her next week about what he and Old Skool had planned. Kenya was going to take a few days off to take care of some personal matters she claimed to have pending. He had no idea whatsoever that Kenya had a sister, let alone a twin. No one she worked with or for in the club knew about London. That was her life outside the strip club. They were two different worlds and Kenya planned to keep it that way for as long as possible.

After her long double shift had ended, it was finally time to get off of work. Kenya, worn out, but elated, couldn’t wait to see her sister.

Reunion

Damn, I gotta hurry the fuck up and get all this stuff put away. There ain’t no way in hell I can have this place on the nut when London gets home. She might bug out and kill a bitch if she saw the mess that been piling in this house since she left. Kenya had taken time off from the club to initially clean the house and spend some quality time with her sister. London was coming home for spring break and the two hadn’t seen each other in months.

After hours of washing dishes and cleaning top to bottom, Kenya was tired as shit. No sooner than the last dish was put away did she hear London’s key turn at the door.

“Kenya!” London yelled as she made her way inside the front hallway.

Kenya jumped from around the doorway and started smiling. “Girl, you know Gran told your butt not to yell in this house with your rude-ass!”

They both ran to each other and hugged for what seemed like forever. Tears were flowing from both twins’ eyes. “I missed you so much,” they both said at the same time. “Me too.” Once again they said it together. It was like they were reading from a script or something. It was one of the things twins were famous for and these two were no different.

When they finally got all of London’s bags in the house, they got a good look at one another and noticed some changes. Kenya didn’t have on her makeup and was dressed in sweats. Her nails were still manicured perfectly, but she just seemed so much more slowly paced than London had remembered. Being on display at the club ten hours a day made Kenya just want to relax more at home and take life easy. She learned how to love to be plain ol’ Kenya instead of flashy, flamboyant Tastey: queen of Heads Up.

London, on the other hand, was different as well. There were a lot of huge visible changes. She had started wearing her shoulder-length hair down and wore clothes that were more suited for a girl her own age than someone’s grandmother. London wasn’t always outspoken, but now she was sure of herself and held her head up when she would speak. She was even downright loud as hell if need be to get her point across. Between Fatima’s coaching, her club and organization meetings, and that creep foul bullshit that Professor Kincade did, she’d become a much stronger individual. London was a new person with a new attitude, and it showed.

“Okay, now tell me everything that has been happening around since I left. How are Carmen and Allan? Where is that no-good Ty? Tell me everything!” London was excited to be home as she plopped down on the couch, kicking her shoes off.

Kenya was almost knocked off her feet by her sister’s newfound bubbly personality. “Damn, bitch, slow your roll!” She was laughing like crazy by this time and so was London. It was like old times when they were kids, but the tables had turned. The difference was now London was holding court and Kenya was sitting back enjoying the show.

London told her sister all about Fatima and how she always had her back at school, how well her family had treated her on the holidays, and how she even had called Fatima’s mother “Mama James.”

Initially Kenya was slightly jealous hearing about Fatima, but she had her own little family at the club so she understood where her twin was coming from. Her, Raven, Zack, Old Skool, and Brother Rasul were just like family at Heads Up. Shit, Old Skool had even cooked a gigantic Thanksgiving dinner for them and all the dancers who didn’t have or were shunned from their biological family. Even if they did eat it at the club at the same tables they’d shake their naked asses on, it was still all good. They were together and to Kenya that meant something.

London begged Kenya to promise not to get upset when she confessed to her about the brutal rape and the physical and mental condition it had left her in. By the time London bravely finished the story, all hell was about to break loose. She had to beg her sister to slow the fuck down. Kenya was screaming about calling someone named Brother Rasul to kill Professor Kincade and his whole generation by nightfall or as long as it took to drive back up to the university. After nearly fifteen minutes of trying to calm her twin down, London finally got a chance to ask her sister one question, which was, “Who in the heck is Brother Rasul?”

That opened the door for Kenya to tell her about her job and her new friends. Kenya explained to her sister how her new friends were a little different than a traditional family, but they all cared about each other. She explained to her how Brother Rasul taught her about Islam and how she told him about what the Bible meant to her.

London, who learned about the Islamic faith from Fatima, listened with an open mind as Kenya went on to tell her how Zack taught both her and Raven about accounting, so when they started their own business, no one could cheat them. London also soon found out that Kenya was even godmother to Raven’s infant son, Jaylin. Kenya said she loved Jaylin just like he was her very own flesh and blood. She wanted the very best for him and even paid for his daycare when Raven would be short.

Though London might not have agreed with her sister’s choice of work to make a living, she was glad that she had love in her heart for someone other than herself. London was happy to learn her twin had thankfully got rid of that self-serving Ty and even happier to learn that Carmen and Allan had gotten a place together on the east side of Detroit and were in school trying to get degrees.

“Okay, what about Amber? Where is she? Have you seen her lately?” London was worried about her best friend. “Last time I called her number a recording came on saying it was disconnected. I called her job and they told me she got fired.”

Kenya hated to tell her what she really knew about Amber, so instead she put on her shoes and had London to walk to the store with her. When they reached Linwood Avenue and turned the corner, London glanced around, and surveyed the neighborhood. She could tell that much had not changed.

“Same blight, same drunks, same crackheads. We need to do something to help our people,” she sadly remarked.

No sooner than those words came out of her mouth did they run into what Kenya didn’t want to say: it was Amber. She looked torn the fuck up! Her hair was nappy and she smelled just like, like . . . fuck it, you know! The bitch was foul, a real shit bag! Kenya was overwhelmed and nauseated by the awful stench that surrounded Amber’s every step. Her eyes watered from the repulsive aroma that filled the air and she quickly turned away so she wouldn’t pass out from having to hold her breath.

“Oh my God! What happened, Amber? What happened?” London cringed at the sight of her friend and started to cry.

Kenya couldn’t do anything but stand mute and let her sister get that shit out. When she first saw Amber tricking in the alley, she was shocked too. That pipe had taken complete control over Amber’s young life and was now running things.

Amber glanced over at London and then focused her eyes toward the litter-filled ground. All she could do was be ashamed. She kicked her dingy and battered shoes against the curb as she tried explaining her new life to London. “After you left, I started hanging with Chuck and ’em. One night we was drinking and I decided to just try a little. I swear I can stop, girl!” Of course, Amber was lying to London and herself; she was too far gone to stop just like that.

“Well, okay then, walk back to the house with us!” London pleaded repeatedly. “Let me get you some help!” She wanted to put her arms around her best friend and reassure her that everything would be all right, but between the terrible smell and the open sores on Amber’s face, London couldn’t bring herself to do it. Amber was too far gone on that glass pipe to be turned around, at least not today. She and the drug were in a committed monogamous relationship, deeper than any marriage.

“I’ll be around there later, I promise.” Amber licked her dry, cracked lips as she tried to fix her hair. At this point she was telling London anything that popped into her mind because that ten dollars she had just sucked dick for in the vacant house was calling her to get a rock. Amber looked at London one last time, embarrassed, as she started to cry, and ran off down the street to get high.

“Kenya, I can’t believe that mess. Why didn’t you warn me?”

“Girl, what you want me to say?” Kenya was giving her sister a look that would kill. “That your friend is a li’l crack ho? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

London openly sobbed, trying to get some answers. “Why didn’t you try to help her Kenya? Huh? Why?”

“Now wait! Hold the fuck up, don’t get it twisted. That’s your girl, not mine! I don’t have time to be chasing a head all around town! Plus, oh yeah, I heard what you said, and don’t be having her all up in my fucking house!”

“Kenya, how can you say that? She needs help. And don’t forget, it’s half my house too!” she replied, feisty.

“Well, okay then, when we get home, take a good look around, London. Everything that’s worth stealing in that son of a bitch is mine, so fuck the dumb shit and recognize! That crack ho ain’t never stepping foot in that motherfucker, so you can take that shit how you want it, half yours or not!”

Over the next few days that followed the twin’s reunion, they realized just how much the two had changed. London had stepped her game up and now was a vocal leader around campus. She was about to branch out and help start an organization that would target the problems of black youths in school who had come from drug-addicted households. Seeing people being messed up by drugs, and now Amber, was eating away at her. Whether or not Kenya wanted to admit it, drugs had killed both their parents, leaving them orphans.

“After I saw Amber the other day, I made up my mind that it was time. I’ve put this off long enough. It needs to stop.” London was up on her soapbox again as Kenya tried her best to ignore her.

“Dang, girl, stop all that loud talking!” Kenya was tired of her sister being all caught up in her feelings. “I know what you’re saying and all and I’m proud of you for real, but damn why you gotta be so high-pitched and shit? Shut the fuck up, damn!”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t understand what made Amber go that way. Your boy Allan grew up with his mother using drugs and made the decision to not follow in her footsteps.”

“Well, that’s life in the big city, London.” Kenya walked to the kitchen and looked in the empty fridge. “Let’s go out to breakfast.”

“All right, let’s go,” London easily agreed, and thought that she would try to press her luck. “Why don’t we go see if Amber wants to go? Maybe we could talk to her.”

“Listen here, girl, we fam and all, but you bugging if think her ruthless behind is rolling out with me! She smells like something crawled up in her ass and died! Come on now, London, be for real! Do you really think I’m going out like that?” Kenya laughed at her sister. “Girl, ain’t no stopping a head!”

London knew her twin was right, only on the fact that Amber would feel out of place. “Well, all right then, I’m ready.” London knew better than to try to change her sister’s mind.

The girls jumped in Kenya’s car and rode about ten minutes before they reached the Black Bottom Cafe. It served the best breakfast around the D and at night it turned into a showcase where folks could show off their poetry skills. After a short wait to get a table, the girls were seated near the back in a booth. They checked out the menu as the waitress brought London the cup of coffee that she ordered as soon as they sat down.

Kenya was the first to really bring up their beloved Gran. They both seemed to avoid any real deep conversations about her so, they wouldn’t cry. “I see Gran still got that ass drinking coffee.” Kenya was shaking her head, placing the menu on the table.

London grinned, shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, I drink it like water.”

“I’m glad you came home, London. I need to talk to you about a few things. I have felt this way for a couple of months, but didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“What is it? We’re sisters, we shouldn’t keep secrets.” London put her cup down and waited for her twin to speak.

“Well . . .” Kenya looked in her sister’s eyes. “I think we should try to sell the house.”

“What house? Gran’s house? Are you crazy?”

“You mean our house, London. Gran is gone!” Kenya blurted out with no remorse for her sister’s feelings. “It’s ours, London, you and me.”

“I know she’s gone, but damn, she worked hard to keep that house!” London was now slightly raising her voice.

“I know, but it’s so big!” Kenya pouted as she folded her arms and continued, “Big and lonely. You’re at school. You’re gone, living your life. I gotta keep that bitch clean. I’m the one who has to keep the snow shoveled, the grass cut, and leaves raked. Pay all the utilities.”

“Look, I understand what you’re saying, but that’s our childhood in that house,” London insisted, hoping to change her twin’s mind.

Kenya was tired of all that back-and-forth bullshit. She was the only one holding that house down. She was going to come at London with the only thing that she seemed to now understand and embrace: struggle.

“First of all, London, the taxes and the water bill are due this month. You got half? Next, the homeowners insurance; once again, do you got half on that? And then, sorry, I had almost forgotten about the heating and light bill that are being shut off. Let me get out a pencil and paper and total your part.” Kenya was pissed by that point and was now raising her voice.

London was totally thrown off by her sister’s callous outbreak. She totally was speechless.

Kenya didn’t let up. “You see the neighborhood, London. You see how it’s changing. Even your own girl, Amber, is setting people up. Go ask Old Mr. Phelps. He’ll tell you! Shiiit. How you gonna carry it, London? Stop chasing a dead dream. Our hood is off the fuckin’ hook. These fools out here ain’t playing no more little kiddie games! They playing hardball!”

London knew her twin was telling the truth about the state of the neighborhood, and even Amber; although, she still knew that Gran wouldn’t want the house sold to strangers. “You know I need all my money to pay for extra school expenses next year. Kenya, I can’t spend it!”

“Oh, I get it, so you think it’s all right for me to spend all of my damn money? Well news flash: the money Gran left me is gone. And now I gotta get mines how I live. I hustle, London. I live day by day, no doubt. Some nights, I’m scared to come home to my own house because of the damn crime, so fuck what you talking about.”

London got her thoughts together and finally spoke. “Listen, Kenya, just let me think about it. Let’s just eat our breakfast and talk more about it at home.”

“I’m sorry that I threw you off your square, but I don’t know what else to do. You know I got love for you.” Kenya and London smiled at one another and decided to change the subject. That one had run its course for the moment.

 

 

When the waitress brought the bill to the table both girls reached for it at the same time. “Let me get that. I know how you ‘need’ your money.” Kenya laughed as she excused herself to go to the bathroom.

London watched her sister walk through the restaurant like she owned the place. Some things never change! London thought.

“Hey, Tastey, I missed you last night, with your fine self. You know how I get when I can’t get a ‘taste’!” A strange guy appeared at the table. The man was leaning all in London’s inner space. “Here, baby, let me take care of your bill.” He pulled out a wad of cash and peeled off three twenty dollar bills. “I’ll see you this weekend, baby.” He made sure to touch her hand when he put the cash on the table. London had a flashback of Professor Kincade and was in a frozen trance. He then smiled and went back to the other side of the room to sit with his friends, who were all staring.

Kenya returned to the table, putting lotion on her hands. She saw the money on the table and shook her head at London. “Listen, Ms. Goody-Goody, I told you I had it,” she said, and slid the loot back over to her.

“I didn’t pay for it, Tastey!” London rolled her eyes. Kenya immediately looked puzzled when she heard her sister call her by her stage name. “Some guy over there thought I was you, or should I say ‘Tastey,’ and paid for it.” London pointed toward the group of desperate-looking men.

Kenya just shrugged her shoulders and nodded her head at them. “It’s all part of the game! Life in the hood! Some of us can’t escape!”

It was then that London decided to agree to put the house up for sale. She didn’t want her sister to have to live right in the mix. Even as soft as everyone thought she was, she knew that you didn’t shit where you slept.