Shorty Gotta Be Grown. T.C. Littles
more attention than I knew what to do with.
“Humph, maybe I should’ve taken ya ass to the damn clinic for some birth control,” Trinity blurted out, making me do more than fumble the phone, but drop it.
Like an FBI agent, she’d snuck up and was this time over my shoulder into my cell’s screen. I was shaken, completely silent, and still, especially when she picked my phone up off the floor.
“Let me find out it’s too late and you’ve already fucked up, Porsha. You already know I’ll run a hanger up in ya twat myself. I’m too fly to be a grandma. Shiiiiiit, I was too fly to be a momma.” After pausing like she was having an epiphany, she spoke again. “On second thought, scratch all that. A pussy’s gonna do what a pussy’s gonna do. So if you wanna play grown, you’re gonna be grown, and there’s nothing I can do about it. You’re about to be eighteen, so hey, do you. Hurry up so we can hit the beauty supply and get home. You’ve still gotta do my hair, and in exchange for me keeping that trifling-ass picture a secret from ya father, I’ma need something super sweet.”
* * *
“Turn the damn blow dryer off before you burn my scalp,” my mom shouted, throwing her hand up, almost hitting me and getting black nail polish onto my clothes.
Being that we had not gotten serviced at the nail salon, she was getting her own hands together but doing a piss-poor job. My mom wasn’t really the prissy type.
A stream of marijuana hit me in the face. I inhaled it and held my breath on the low. “My bad, but I’m not about to send you out here looking crazy. If I didn’t add enough heat to the glue and spritz, the tracks won’t hold to your head as tightly as I need them to. You ain’t about to come home screaming at me ’cause your tracks done sweated out to the floor.” Repositioning her head as gracefully as I could, I got back to work.
As gangster as my mom was, she was tender headed as hell. That was why she couldn’t get a sew-in. She’d have died from me French braiding it, then stitching the wefts down to her head. Therefore, I was only doing a quick weave. When I got done, I’d iron it since she hated curls, and I’d clean her eyebrows with a razor. At least twice a month, her room turned into a beauty shop, and I’d be in here getting her together. After the drama that unraveled earlier, I was sure I’d be filing and polishing her nails, too.
“If the streets don’t work out for you, Porsha, try your hand at being a beautician. I’ve gotta give you your props. There are bitches in the shop who can’t fry, dye, and lay some hair like you can. For real.”
“Thanks, Ma. I appreciate it.” I was really happy behind my mom complimenting me again. “The thought crossed my mind, especially after Imani’s mom said I had skills, but I’m almost done with the torture of school. I don’t know if I wanna jump back into someone’s classroom.” I was being honest.
“Well, as far as Imani’s mom goes, you better have charged that sludge rock. Don’t let me find out you’re through the hood passing out free styles or giving folks credit because you run with their kids.” My mom was always schooling and warning me. “And in regard to school, I was never a star pupil to teach you how to be one. But I’ve always been a hustler and about my money. With that being said, do what you’ve gotta do to keep money in ya pocket and food in ya mouth. Doing hair is a good skill to have because there’s always an ugly chick in need of assistance. Me and ya daddy won’t be around forever.”
I sighed. “I’ve got it, Ma. You didn’t raise a fool. I never touch a head without my cho’ first.”
“That’s what I’m talking about, Porsha. Good girl. As long as you keep that attitude up, you’ll never fall from the throne your father and I have created for you. You’re a Jackson, and Jacksons never get cheated up outta our coins.” By now, she’d spun back to the mirror and was admiring herself while talking to me.
Whenever Trinity started talking about my family’s greatness and how I was blessed to be a product of her and Calvin, I spaced out. I’d heard the same speech in several variations and could recite it backward. I didn’t need to keep hearing I was on a pedestal for me to know it. I’d accepted that I was better than most people. No other family I knew of in the hood was driving luxury cars in real name-brand clothes.
“A’ight, Porsha, it’s been real hanging with you today, but girl time is over. I’ve gotta take some time to zone out and get my mind right before this cabaret. Pass me my blunt from the ashtray, then skedaddle. Your brother’s probably looking for you anyway.”
“Okay,” I quickly replied, all too eager to get out from under her. Today’s impromptu mother-daughter date wasn’t my idea in the first place, so she could save her flip-flopping-ass attitude for the cougars, young hoes, and even the tiny-tot thots who were gonna be checkin’ for my daddy tonight.
“Ma, is it cool for Imani to come over and kick it with me and Benzie while y’all are gone to the cabaret?” I held my breath, hoping she didn’t remember the dick pic she’d seen over my shoulder earlier.
She sighed like I was getting on her nerves. “Yeah, Porsha. I don’t care. Ya think I can get a li’l peace now?”
“Yup, I’m out of ya way. Have fun tonight.” I turned and left her room, not really caring if she had fun, because I knew for sure that I would.
Me: Come through when you’re ready. I got the go.
Me: Tonight. Don’t play me. I’m ready.
The first text was to Imani. The second was to Street.
* * *
Unlike the wild adventure-like day I had with our mom, Benzie had a much different experience with our dad. They kicked it, playing with toys, eating, and watching TV, which consisted of Calvin exposing him to sports. Dad never said it out loud, or at least in my presence, but I knew he loved having a boy, just like I knew my mom really liked having a girl, especially when it came to helping with cooking, cleaning, and tending to Benzie.
The whole house was a mess. My dad was a good dad, but not a great keeper. Like every boy I knew of, he was a slob when it came to cleaning up behind himself. There were crumbs all over the floor from the snacks he and Benzie ate, sippy cups of spoiled milk on the table, and old diapers scattered in a few places, which could’ve easily been thrown a few feet away in the trash. I didn’t know what my parents planned on doing when I moved, because that meant the maid would be moving too.
After I got the living room put back together, I burned a few candles to help with the spoiled milk and diaper smell, and I sprayed the furniture down with Lysol. I made sure all of my chores were immaculately done, cleaning the kitchen and bathroom as well as sweeping down the hallway stairs. I was able to get a load of clothes in before Benzie started shutting down from the sugar rush he’d been spinning on.
Li’l man had been shut off in his room, locked in by a gate, so he could still roam around but see inside my or our parents’ room if our doors were open. He couldn’t really walk yet but could crawl and pull up on stuff. Right now, though, he was flipping out, screaming and laughing at the same time. Because Daddy used to let me get Kool-Aid wasted and sing along with Zoe on Sesame Street until passing out whenever my mom was gone, I knew Benzie was only a few minutes from passing out. Sugar will take you high, then drop you low.
With red stains all over his shirt, sticky fingers, and a face covered in all the candy, ice cream, and chips he’d gotten to snack on, he was about to sleep good and be out for the night. That’d work out perfectly for me . . . well, Imani, since she was the one who’d be here babysitting him. To make sure of it, I gave him a bath, dinner, and a warm bottle of milk before laying him down and saying good night.
With the whole house fresh and clean, I locked myself in my room and did a search for some porno videos on YouTube. I was a virgin, and Street wasn’t. So I needed to school myself on the art of straight fuckin’. Girls were doing some of everything, taking it in the asshole, eating the asshole, and twirling like gymnasts on the dick. I didn’t know what Street was expecting, but I wasn’t planning on doing anything more