The next day, Netta’s morning began with a parade of doctors and nurses visits. She was subjected to a physical examination and lots of medical terminology. Under the circumstances, Netta often felt like they were talking about her rather than talking to her. During these conversations about her physical welfare, Netta’s mind tended to drift to life outside her hospital room. She had spent most of the night mulling over the idea, so she didn’t have a hard time picturing herself leaving the hospital. Not that she’d tell her doctors that. Still, it was a thought, one that was cause for alarm in her battered condition.
Black’s unpredictable nature would ultimately factor heavily into her decision. Her fears were beginning to get the best of her.
By the time Tone arrived at the hospital later that morning, Netta was lost in her thoughts, seriously weighing her medical options. His presence was a welcomed distraction.
“Yo, what’s up?” Tone announced as he entered the room.
Almost instantly he took notice of her somber mood. Netta’s facial expression was easy to read. Her face was full of frustration. Her emotional state wouldn’t change anytime soon, since she had been contemplating the same thoughts all morning over and over again. However, Tone did his best to cheer her up.
He continued, “Why you look so sad?”
“I wanna go home,” she replied.
“What the doctors say?” he asked.
“I don’t give a damn what the doctors say!” Netta insisted. “I’m ready to go.”
“Damn, it’s like that?” he said.
“Yup. I’m gettin’ tired of this shit,” she announced.
“Aiight, I guess you gotta do what you gotta do,” Tone commented. “Just keep me posted.”
“Oh, you’ll be the first to know, Tone. Trust me on that,” Netta answered.
Tone smiled, flashing a set of pearly white teeth. “Anyway, I gotta surprise for you this morning. Hopefully this will cheer you up. Yo, Aja, come in,” he yelled out.
“Who you inviting into my room yo?” Netta asked as she suddenly became self- conscious about her appearance.
“Chill, don’t worry about it. I got you,” he said.
“Chill my ass!” Netta snapped. “What type of games is you playin’ yo? I don’t want nobody to see me like this.”
An innocent looking teenage female, short, dark skinned with braces, enters the room with a black knapsack on her back.
“Who you?” Netta snapped.
“I’m Aja,” she replied meekly.
“Yeah, this is Aja. Aja that’s Netta. I bought her here to braid ya hair. Thank me later,” he told her.
Tone knew better than to bring an older chick to Netta’s hospital room, out of fear they just might recognize her.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do wit’ you boy.” She smiled, thinking this was so sweet and thoughtful. “But thank you. I didn’t know how much longer I could have kept wearing this damn scarf on my head.”
Tone was glad Netta was receptive to his idea, that she didn’t take offense to him bringing someone to her hospital room to braid her hair. He knew if Netta was anything like most black women, then she was funny about her hair. Anyone couldn’t just do a black woman’s hair. But under the circumstances, she had to roll with the punches because her hair was a mess and any style that the girl provided would be an upgrade from the way her hair looked now.
Netta climbed out her bed, and sat down in a nearby chair while her hairstylist positioned herself in back of her. She placed her knapsack on the table and began removing all the things she needed, a comb, a brush, a mirror, some hair gel and a few packs of 32-inch virgin Remy weave. Gently, she parted Netta’s hair straight down the middle. Aja had to be very careful doing this since Netta still had bumps and bruises from the beating. This caused her to be tender headed. From time to time, Netta winced and grimaced, even though Aja was being as gentle as possible and moving at a slower pace.
The painful twinge that throbbed in Netta’s head turned into a full-blown pain. She ignored it. She had to. Netta decided to grin and bear it. She wanted her hair done in the worst way.
“Yo, I’ll be back,” Tone suddenly announced, he felt awkward standing there watching the process. “Anybody need anything while I’m gone? Soda? Juice? Bag of chips? Somethin’ to eat?”
Aja remained quiet. She shook her head as she continued doing Netta’s hair.
“You could bring me a bag of chips,” Netta suggested. “That’ll hold me over til later. Aja you want somethin’ baby?”
“No, thank you,” she replied. “I ate before I got here.”
“Aiight, I’ll be right back,” Tone said, exiting the room.
While the two females busied themselves with the hair braiding, Tone had more things on his agenda than just going to get refreshments. He also went and got the television and the phone turned on in the room. He paid for it a week in advance, even though he was unsure of how long Netta was going to stay. However long she planned to be there, Tone wanted her to at least be comfortable.
Sonya sat patiently in the car as she watched Bri approaching. She hoped her friend had some information on the person Tone was going to visit.
“Busted!” Bri announced, jumping into the driver’s seat. “Got his azz!”
“Who is he up there seein’?” Sonya asked.
“Some bitch named Shanetta Jackson,” Bri replied. “You know her? Does that name ring a bell? Huh?”
“No,” Sonya said somberly.
Sonya was barely able to look her friend in the eye, not because she was embarrassed, but because she was so mad.
“How you find out?” she wondered.
Bri answered, “I went right up to the security guard at the visitation desk a few seconds after Tone and that young girl got on the elevator. I told him my boyfriend just went upstairs, but I didn’t know what room he went to. The security guard gave me the name and room number.”
She sighed. “Let’s go before I go up there and do somethin’ I regret. Like gettin’ arrested.”
Bri did as she was told without saying another word. This was Sonya’s situation, so if she wanted to deal with it in this manner, then she had every right to. Bri didn’t want to influence her one way or another. She wouldn’t make any awkward attempts at small talk. Tone’s cheating was the elephant in the room. Bri had done her job, now she was just there for support.
In Sonya’s mind it was a good time to be alone. She just wanted to go home and bury her head underneath the covers and cry her eyes out.
The young girl worked quickly and Netta’s braids were done by lunchtime. Netta picked up the mirror and examined herself. Finally, she looked presentable. Putting braids in her hair was always a good idea, but depending on who did them and how they were styled, the end result could be a different story. Fortunately Netta liked her braids. She thought the young girl did a real good job.
“Thank you, Aja. You really took care of me,” Netta complimented her.
“You welcome,” the young girl replied.
Now Netta felt dignified. This was a step in the right direction to getting back to normal. That’s all she craved, a little normalcy after her world had been turned upside down.
Suddenly, the nurse walked into the room just as Netta was admiring herself. It was time for Netta to take her pain medication.
“Well, well, good morning ladies,” she spoke as she handed Netta a small cup filled with two pills. “Looks like you have been busy this morning, Shanetta,” Nurse McNeil said. “I like the braids, they really fit you.”
“Thanks, Nurse McNeil,” Netta remarked while dumping the contents of the cup into her mouth.
“Here you go,” the nurse said, handing her a cup of water.
Netta washed the medication down and then handed her back the cup.
“Do you mind if I take this lunch tray away,” the nurse asked.
“Be my guest,” she replied as she waved her hand at the bland food. “I wasn’t plannin’ on eatin’ that.”
“I see,” Nurse McNeil stated, grabbing the tray and exiting the room.
Simultaneously, as the nurse exited the room, Tone entered. They greeted each other while headed in the opposite direction.
“That’s more like it,” Tone said, admiring her braids.
“You tellin’ me,” Netta replied sarcastically. “I feel like a new woman.”
“Well lemme take Aja home and I’ll be right back,” Tone mentioned.
By the time she had packed up her things to leave, Netta thanked Aja a million times as she walked out the door. Acting as her escort, Tone drove her back to East Baltimore.
Once again Netta was alone with her thoughts. However, her isolation didn’t last long, Rasheeda, Fila and Petey entered the room.
“Netta!” They all seemed to say in unison.
Individually they all went over to her, hugging and kissing Netta and wishing her well. Her eyes were wide as she soaked in all the love from the Pussy Pound. Netta couldn’t but wonder where the missing member, Mimi, was.
“What’s up with Mimi?” Netta asked.
Rasheeda responded, “She’s a mess. We don’t fuck wit’ her. Her ass strung out on dope.”
“What?” Netta speculated. “I don’t believe you!”
Netta was stunned by the news. This wasn’t your average he say she say or your typical ghetto gossip. This was a bad bone to put on someone if it weren’t true. So there must be some validity in what they were saying. Everyone couldn’t be conspiring to throw dirt on Mimi’s name.
“You don’t gotta believe me,” Rasheeda answered. “Wait til you get up outta here. I guarantee you’ll hear about her. The streets can tell you better than me.” The information that she had received didn’t sit well with her.
Netta was deeply disappointed in Mimi, her best friend, her ace, her everything, now turned drug addict. How or why Mimi got hooked on dope was beyond her. They all knew how she felt about drug usage. Netta had voiced her opinion on several different occasions.
“I swear, I ain’t never going out like that. I’d rather die first than live like that. And if any of you bitches get hooked on dope, y’all cut the fuck off,” Netta once said.
“Man, Mimi doin’ her,” Fila added. “She out there.”
For once in her life Netta didn’t have too much to say about Mimi. She merely shook her head in disbelief, but behind that smile lay a totally different emotion, disgust. Her thoughts began to race. She remembered the countless times that she tried to school each member of the Pussy Pound. Sometimes she did it through hypothetical discussions. Sometimes allowing them to eavesdrop on her phone conversations that she had with a particular hustler, just so they could see for themselves just how she played them.
“Like Rasheeda said, the streets can tell you better than we can,” Fila told her. “You’ll see.”
Netta was disgusted. Her emotions were hard to hide while her thoughts began to race.
“I swear, I ain’t ever goin’ out like that. I’d rather die first than be a dope fiend,” she said.
Netta spoke with conviction, always giving her clique the best advice that she could. She had no compassion or sympathy for a dope fiend or any kind of drug addict for that matter. Her childhood had been marred by her mother’s drug abuse.
In light of her current situation and Mimi’s drug habit, Netta was beginning to rethink this whole Pussy Pound situation. Maybe she never should have been a part of it in the first place, quickly becoming it’s leader. Was it possible that she had corrupted them? Thus she had to take the blame for whatever happened thereafter. Netta’s prolonged stay in the hospital had caused her to experience a feeling very foreign to her...regret.
Quickly, Netta shook off that thought. She reminded herself that the Pussy Pound was never naïve or innocent to begin with. However, maybe she should have let someone else take the reins. She had been instrumental in making their lives so comfortable, their hustle so easy, while hers had been anything but.
Once upon a time ago, Netta felt like she was giving them too much game. She had to check Mimi hard when she had gotten beside herself.
“I taught you everything you know, not everything I know,” Netta once told her.
In her bitterness she reminded herself that she should have known better, especially about Mimi. Their friendship had blinded Netta to her faults and weaknesses. She couldn’t make Mimi be her friend, especially now in her time of need. Netta knew things not given freely like love, then loyalty was never worth having, especially from a so-called friend.
Netta hated to admit it, but maybe they were wrong for each other from the start, her, Mimi and the entire Pussy Pound. Maybe they weren’t built for the game like she was. It took a certain type of bitch to succeed at this shit, one who was heartless and ruthless. Netta had embodied those two traits while the other members of the Pussy Pound only pretended that they had it.
Netta was coming to the slow realization that these chicks weren’t built for this type of hustle. They were all fair-weather friends who loved her for who they thought she was.
Right then and there, Netta decided to fall back and let the Pussy Pound do them.
“We can’t wait til you get the fuck up outta this hospital, it’s gonna be on……” Petey said, eagerly anticipating Netta’s release from the hospital.
Netta thought, I’m not fuckin’ around no more. You bitches can do whatever y’all like. I’m done!
Black had given her a real reason to change her lifestyle. It’s funny how a brush with death can change one’s perspective on life.
Netta sat in the bed and faked a smile. She knew her immediate future didn’t involve any member of the Pussy Pound. She didn’t long to be in their presence as she once had. She didn’t crave being the center of attention, the center of their universe. She was going about her business without them and hoped that they would do likewise.
Now, the Pussy Pound was old news to her. She was putting them and every other bad experience she had in the streets behind her. That life she was living was pointless. Those material things that she attained were now worthless.
An hour after they had gone, Tone returned to the hospital. He sat next to her on the edge of the bed. Netta wondered if now would be a good time to bring up what she had been thinking. She needed some clarity on a subject. Netta was developing feelings for Tone. Now that she knew the truth, who was she to downplay her emotions; she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge them.
Tone had come into her life and made an immediate impact on her. She felt a deep sense of gratitude toward him for everything he had done, including saving her life. Still, she was unsure on where they stood. Was this thing that they were doing going to lead to a relationship? They were beginning to spend a great deal of time together. Before things went any further, Netta needed to know.
“Tone, I been wonderin’…..” she began, “….I fucks wit’ you. You definitely my type. But I need to know what we doin’. We gone be together? Or is you just comin’ up here everyday cause you feel sorry for me?”
“Nah Netta, it ain’t like that,” Tone explained. “You already know I fuck wit’ you. But if you need me to make dis shit official, then the answer is yeah, we together.”
If Netta was who Tone wanted to be with, then she wanted to be with him. She knew if her feelings weren’t genuinely reciprocated, then she wouldn’t force the issue. She just needed to feel like she really mattered to him.
Netta answered, “I don’t know what ya situation is, but I can only imagine that you got somebody or somebodies. You can’t tell me otherwise. So what I’m tellin’ you is, take care of whatever it is you gotta take care of. I ain’t tryin’ to be a part of no love triangle. I want a monogamous relationship. We not goin’ to entertain other people. If we gone do this, we gone do this right, or not at all.”
Although they hadn’t known each other long, Tone knew this was where he wanted to be. He had come to that conclusion after the first conversation they had. Tone felt like he never connected with any other female, including his girlfriend Sonya, like he had with Netta. It had grown so strong, so fast. Everything was so real with them.
With that in mind, Tone knew what he had to do, leave Sonya. Which was probably easier said than done.
“I got you,” Tone said confidently. “It’s a done deal. I’ma live up to my part of the bargain, home girl.”
This was the most intimate conversation the two of them had, relationship wise. It felt good for Tone to be real with Netta. He promised himself that he would make a concerted effort to always keep it real with her. She deserved it and so did their relationship.
“Yeah, you do that,” Netta replied without giving him a chance to make more promises. “If this is what you want, you better act like it.”