Dirty to the Grave

by Karen Williams

Genres: African American Urban; African American Women's Fiction

Synopsis

Follow the highs and lows of Cha, Goldie, and Red, who come together for fun, laughs, and sometimes treachery in Long Beach, California. For these three ladies, survival was always about getting over by using lies, deceit, and sex. But when a plan goes dangerously wrong, Cha and Goldie take a step back out of the life.

Cha desperately wants to rid herself of the demons of her past so she can at least feel normal enough to raise her son, Omari. Goldie ain’t feeling the hood life anymore. She’s tired of going from man to man and knows her parents are rolling over in their graves at the life she chose for herself. Red craves the streets, and she’ll cross anyone, friends included, to get what she wants. She steps deeper in the game, making her dirtier than she already is—so dirty that she will betray both Cha and Goldie, leading to horrifying consequences.

Dirty to the Grave goes harder than Karen Williams has ever gone, with an explosive ending that will shock you and make you wonder: Are your friends really your friends? They say life is hard from the cradle to the grave, and once you think people can’t get any dirtier, they do!

Release date: April 24, 2012

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 224

Sample

I loved chillin’ with my girls ’cause, wherever we went, from Bistro 880 to The Century Club, we were the baddest bitches in there. Today we were at the Hollywood Casino in Inglewood. How Red got these tickets to see Katt Williams was beyond me, but I didn’t really care. I was happy to be there.

I was wearing a tight-ass hot-pink dress I got at Fashion Trend in Lakewood with some stillettos I caught on sale right next door at Rainbow. Them bitches was a half-sized too small, but I was killing the hell out of my dress and them heels.

Red had on booty shorts, a sexy gold silk top, and knee-high boots.

I almost fell over laughing when Cha’s son said to Cha, “Mama, she looks like the Catwoman!”

And Cha had on a pair of simple blue low-rise jeans, a black tube top, and leather boots.

See, we were high-class with low-class clothes, whereas the other bitches there were low-class with high-class clothes. Hell, we didn’t have that high-class shit, but the bottom line is this: If you’re fly by nature, it doesn’t matter that you don’t rock name-brand items. And we had knockout bodies, so whatever we put on looked good on us.

We were just trying to survive in the world, living in a low-income building, swiping EBT cards, getting money out of dudes, and a little hustling here and there. What the fuck we know about Christian Dior or Dolce & Gabbana, except what we saw on TV? And, yeah, what we saw here? But that still didn’t stop our shine.

It was comedy night, and Katt Williams’ little permed-out-ass had us cracking up. And, of course, like all comedians who run out of jokes, he ended up turning to the crowd and clowning.

“Who you think he gonna get at?” Cha asked Red and me.

“Probably them raggedy bitches over there,” Red said, pointing.

I chuckled and put my head down, and sure enough, that’s where he went. To the table closest to the stage. But having the table closest to the stage didn’t mean shit. All it really meant was that the bitches got there earlier than anybody, or one of them got their flirt on and “bogarted” the whole table. Simple. It was eight of them bitches all huddled at that little-ass table.

The spotlight hit the table as he spoke.

“Damn! Y’all drinking Moët and shit,” he said in his squeaky-ass voice. “Gotdamn! Can I sit with y’all muthafuckas?”

One chick laughed out loud, put her glass in the air, and shouted loudly, “Ballin’!”

Red shook her head. “Them bitches ain’t ballin’. We the ballin’ bitches.”

Me and Cha was cracking up ’cause while we wasn’t balling, we didn’t look raggedly like them. It never amazes me how tacky bitches can be.

At our table we had two bottles of Moët, a bottle of Dom Pérignon, all courtesy of niggas sending us shit all night, not to mention the bottle of Cristal we politely sent back. We just didn’t drink that shit.

Red repeated more loudly, “Them bitches ain’t ballin’!”

You know Red. She couldn’t have no chick upstaging her, no matter what.

Cha glanced at me as I tried to hold my giggle in, the spotlight was now on us.

“In fact,” Red said, “ain’t none of these bitches in here flyer than we are!”

Murmurs and laughs came from the crowd.

The eight chicks Red got at kept their heads down. They probably knew who we were, but the others, I couldn’t be sure.

At another table, one chickenhead, one weavealicious, and a red bone redder than my girl Red shot looks our way, clearly mean-mugging us.

“Oh, shit!” Katt said. “Now y’all done started something. It’s about to go down. I just wanna see a couple nipples and bootyholes.”

The crowd laughed, and the girls kept mean-mugging us.

Red Bone asked Red, “Whatchu say?”

Red stood and planted her hand on her hips. “You heard. I said, ‘Ain’t no bitches in here ballin. ’ What?” She spread her arms wide.

Weavealicious yelled, “We wasn’t even in that shit, but since you wanna make public announcements—Who the fuck you callin’ bitches? ’Cause I ain’t nobody’s bitch!”

Cha lowered her gaze, as I sipped on my third glass of Moët.

“Y’all,” Red said.

All of a sudden, a Hpnotiq bottle came flying at us.

With that, we headed over to them hoes’ table. Red grabbed Red Bone, and Cha went after Chickenhead.

I smacked Weavealicious, and served that bitch blow after blow, holding onto her weave for leverage. She leaned forward and swung but couldn’t get a lick in. I bashed her head in a few good times before she slid to the floor.

I spied Cha roughing up Chickenhead, and Red, as usual, was getting her ass whipped. Why? After all that shit she talked? Simple. She was my girl, but the bitch couldn’t fight.

I rushed over to where she was and used my closed fist to sock Red Bone in the side of her neck, sending her crashing into her table.

“Yeah, bitch!” Red yelled when the girl hit the floor. She crouched low and pummeled Red Bone in the face.

That’s when I felt myself being lifted in the air and thrown against a beefy chest. It was a bouncer. I looked up and saw the same being done to Cha and Red.

The bouncer carrying me whispered, “Baby, let me get your number.”

I laughed and struggled in his beefy arms.

They didn’t let us go until we were outside the club, where they dumped us on the concrete. The one who dumped me copped a little feel of my round ass first.

“Fuck y’all rent-a-cops!” Red yelled.

Too out of breath to even respond to the dude that rubbed on me, I placed my hand on my chest. I looked at Cha staring at Red and read her thoughts. I yelled, “Bitch, we can’t take yo’ trouble-starting ass nowhere!”

Red tilted her head back and burst out laughing.

Then we were all laughing on the concrete. Yep, from time to time, that was our “get-down.”

“Clean that shit, little monkey.” I was four years old when I understood the difference between white folks and black folks. I knew blacks were inferior, dumb, lazy, ugly, and a total waste to the planet. I knew whites were smart, elite, talented, and successful. But the only problem was, I was black. Well, half-black anyway.

My daddy was black, but ask me if I ever seen him. I ain’t never seen him. He had a wife and kids, so my mama was just his sideline ho.

Then she got slick and got knocked up with me, thinking he was gonna leave his wife. Wrong. My pops shook the spot, leaving her to raise me.

My mama happened to be white, and if you didn’t figure that out, you a dumb ass. And that same fair skin, freckles, and long hair she had, I had too.

I was five years old and had just got tested for school. They said I was smart, so they wanted me to skip kindergarten and go straight to first grade.

The principal told my mama, “You should be very proud of your child.”

But Miss Mabel was pissed. Wasn’t nothing happy ’bout her expression.

Walking three paces behind her, like she always had me do, I reached for her hand on the way home from school, and she jerked back. I don’t know why I did that. Naw, I knew why I did it. When other parents picked up their kids, they hugged them and strolled hand in hand, and that’s what I wanted.

“Nigger, don’t touch me,” she mumbled.

As soon as we made it to our house, she shoved me toward the backyard. I hated going out there ’cause Bopeep, our rottweiler, was out there.

“Mommy, no.”

That got me a kick in my ass, and I fell back on the ground, screaming as I went down.

My mama opened the gate and dragged me by my long red hair, until I was lying on the dirty grass and Bopeep was looking at me like he wanted to gobble me right up.

“Jigaboo, listen to me,” my mama said, the sun in her face. “You are a nigger. That’s all you are ever going to be. And you ain’t smart. You dumb as shit. Bopeep over there got more smarts than you do. Monkey! So you wanna be cute at school and show off, then you can stay on out here with Bopeep. You can eat, shit, and sleep with him ’til you learn your place in the world.”

I crawled into a corner and sat there. I thought my mama was messing around at first, but then the sun started fading. I’d been holding my pee-pee in, until finally it gave out on me, and I peed on myself, soaking my stockinged legs.

The sun turned a different color. Then it disappeared. That’s when I seen my mama. I was hungry and thirsty. I thought she was gonna call me in the house, but she brought a pot and turned it over, so the contents, which looked like scraps of chicken bones, rice, and peas, fell to the dirt-covered ground.

Bopeep dove right in it.

“I’m hungry, Mama.”

“Then get your black ass down there and eat with Bopeep!”

I closed my eyes and cried as the door closed.

When it was nightfall, I knocked on my mama’s back door. “Please let me in, Mama. I’m scared.”

I knocked over and over until my knuckles were red and aching, but Mama didn’t answer. I sobbed and went back to the corner I had abandoned earlier. I had no choice but to sleep.

Splash!

I blinked and wiped the cold water from my eyes and nose.

“Wash up with the dog, nigger face.”

I scrubbed my eyes, whining and calling my mom’s name. I crawled on the porch steps and grabbed her ankle.

She kicked me in the forehead. “Nigger, get off me!”

I fell back hard on Bopeep, making him growl at me. I ignored the pain in my side and the knot on my head and snatched myself up and rushed to the other side of the backyard, where I stayed in my stinky clothes. The piss had dried on me, but I remember the wetness made the dirt cling to me. Now that too had dried up and down my legs like I was in a mud fight and was itching me and attracting flies.

She didn’t feed me, and me being so hungry, my stomach wouldn’t stop growling. I snuck over to Bopeep’s side while he was sleeping and snatched up some of his Kibbles ’n Bits. Then I crawled back over to my side.

I popped one in my mouth and chewed slowly. I gagged at first when the taste hit my mouth, but I was able to get the second and third down.

“Well, looka here.”

I froze and stared up at my mother slowly.

She burst out laughing. “All this time I been calling you a monkey ’cause that’s what all you niggers are, but I was wrong about you. You a damn dog, nigger girl, munching on Kibbles ’n Bits.”

I dropped the dog food from my hands.

“And I brought you some dinner, but”—She bit her bottom lip like she was in serious thought—” “since you like dog food so much, your ass can eat it, and I’ll give this to Bopeep.”

I watched horrified as she poured out the food on the ground near Bopeep. Then she walked back over to me and poured some from the bag of dog food on the ground next to my feet.

“Mommy.”

“No mommy nothing. Your black ass needs to be humbled. You need to learn your place—That’s beneath the whites. That’s y’all problem anyway.” She left me out there again.

Later that night I heard crackling and crunching of leaves. It made me pant nervously, made my heart beat faster.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a big ol’ rat my teacher at school said was called an opossum, cousin to the rat. Up close, it looked like a giant rat nibbling on the remainder of the Kibbles ’n Bits I couldn’t manage to get down. He didn’t care that I was half a foot away from him. He just kept on eating. I held my breath in, as he crunched and crunched.

My eyes passed over Bopeep’s sleeping form. He was knocked out.

I prayed to God, even though Mama said He didn’t answer niggers’ prayers because we were the offspring of Satan, the Antichrist.

One day as I was singing the hell out of “His Eye Is on the Sparrow,” she told me, “Your soul is as black as you are.”

So I stopped believing in Him.

That night, though, I needed something to believe in, so I prayed to God that the big rat didn’t hurt me. My eyes were closed shut, but my ears were not.

I heard Bopeep bark. The sounds the opossum was making must have woken him. Bopeep rushed toward him, and the opossum rose on his hind legs, showing his teeth and his claws. He pounced on Bopeep, but he was no match. Bopeep went for his neck, got a good hold with his teeth, and was tugging away. Blood was streaming from the opossum’s neck, but he tried to fight back by clawing Bopeep’s face.

Bopeep wouldn’t let go, his head moving side to side as he dug deeper and deeper into the opossum’s neck. The opossum shuddered for a few moments then stopped moving.

I sobbed out of fear and from seeing all that blood. Then Bopeep went back to his spot and fell asleep like nothing had happened.

I shivered and cried, calling out my mama’s name, but she wouldn’t answer. When Bopeep started barking at me, I shut up and quietly cried myself to sleep.

The next day, I felt myself being carried. I didn’t bother opening my eyes ’cause I knew it was my mama. Maybe she had forgiven me for yesterday, and was going to wash me up and let me get in my own bed finally, so I didn’t bother opening my eyes or fussing. I was still half asleep when I felt her peeling my clothes off. My mama carried me to the tub. It felt good to have her holding me like that. Maybe she really did love me. I loved her. When my naked body started to burn, I screamed and popped my eyes open. Before I could move, my mother held me down in our tub. I was laying on a big trash bag that was inside on the tub and she was pouring stuff on me. One I alre. . .