Girls From Da Hood 13

by Ms. Michel Moore, Treasure Hernandez, Katt

Genres: African American Urban

Synopsis

Three Urban Books authors have teamed up to bring the drama in this latest installment of the popular Girls from da Hood Series.

Get It, Get It! by Ms. Michel Moore: Monica was conceived on a pile of dirty clothes in the corner of a trap house. Cursed with a mother who worshiped the crack pipe more than her children, she quickly learned a Detroit reality: Get it how ya live or die trying. The young teenager is forced to beg, borrow, and steal to make sure she and her siblings survive to see another day. Cutthroat and conniving, Monica will make it, no matter who she has to step on or step over.

You Can't Break Us by Treasure Hernandez: Voodo and his girl, Moni, are inseparable. Like a modern Bonnie and Clyde from the hood, they let no one, even family, get in their way. When the people they do "around the way" business with turn out to be verified snakes, the ruthless couple gets revenge the only way they know how—street justice. With the law in hot pursuit, it's Voodo and Moni against the world, just like they always knew it would be.

So Far Gone by Katt: Sometimes love is the best feeling in the world, but the wrong kind of love can turn you into an entirely different person. When good girl turned bad Renee gets together with Keithon, it’s them against the world, until the streets get to talking and their fairy-tale relationship turns into a full-blown nightmare. Karma steps in and has her way with the couple, and their lives will never be the same.

Release date: June 26, 2018

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

Once a dopefiend, always a dopefiend! Recovery my ass! I’m so tired of this bullshit!

“Mama, please! Mama, please wake up! Why you keep doing this stupid stuff all the time?” Monica was distraught. Confused by reality, her mind raced. Screaming at the top of her young lungs, the young teen violently grabbed her mother’s frail, sunken face. She slapped it repeatedly in an attempt to get her bloodshot eyes to reopen and once again take in life. Monica exhaled. She worked steadily as would a seasoned, trained surgeon.

Like clockwork, she then jumped to her feet. Running to get a cold washcloth, the teen knew time was essential. With water dripping from the drenched dirty rag she grabbed off the bathroom floor, she pushed through the growing crowd of nosy neighbors. She placed the cloth on her mother’s sweating forehead. Immediately it caused her small frame to slightly jerk from the shock of the sudden temperature change.

“You won’t be happy until your ass fucking die and leave us all alone,” Monica angrily shouted, while pounding down on Jenette Howard’s chest.

Everyone packed inside the tiny apartment, which was done in ghetto decor. Each stood motionless, waiting for this week’s near-tragic outcome. Even though Jenette was no more than a bona fide run-of-the-mill drug addict, normally Monica never would’ve cursed at her mom, let alone raised her voice. However, this was a special occasion. Today was one of those all-too-famous “first of the month” kinda special occasions. It was one that everyone in the hood waited and prayed for. Jenette had gotten her food stamps at nine o’clock that morning. And instead of stocking the cabinets with even a few cans of soup, let alone a tiny loaf of bread, she copped her usual choice of nourishment: dope.

Never once thinking about anything else but self, less than two hours later it was what it was. She was surrounded by all three of her innocent, hungry children. Jenette was laid the fuck out on the living room floor, damn near overdosing. She was seconds away from meeting her Maker. Tragically, if given the chance to cop another pack of the same shit that had her knocking at death’s door, she’d ask for double her money’s worth.

Same shit, different day, Monica thought, frustrated, as she went through the regular routine of bringing her mother out of her drug-induced trance. I swear to God she’s really testing me! How long she gonna do this dumb shit?

With each passing episode of her mother’s over-the-top antics, the scary temptation was growing greater daily for Monica not to come to her mother’s constant aid. Monica was fighting with her conscience about calling protective services her damn self. The only thing stopping her was the risk of being separated from her little brother and sister in the system. The teen knew the callous system cared even less about keeping family together than Jenette did.

It would be different if this weren’t the norm, but unfortunately, it was. Jenette was famous for overdoing it like it was in her DNA. Whether it was a fifth of five o’clock gin and she was drunk, passed out cold, or her showcase specialty: the needle left dangling half in her arm after a good, strong hit. The single mother of three was good for bugging out, spazzing into full-blown convulsions. Poor Monica didn’t know which she hated to witness more: her mother with too many drugs in her system, or the days when Jenette was bold, craving a blast, throwing up, scratching her skin ’til it bled, sick, with the eerie, dead glare of a zombie in her eyes.

Under both circumstances, Monica was left to play nursemaid to her mother, who was once halfway decent. Jenette’s hopeless search for love and acceptance led her to depend on anything she could get her hands on to try to escape the grim certainty of her life. Her indulging in every drug, drink, random sex partner, and reckless behavior known to man had torn her family apart. And the saddest part of the god-awful, gut-wrenching story was that Jenette was lost in her own world and couldn’t care less.

Monica was the oldest of the three of Jenette’s children. She was extremely small for her age, standing barely four feet seven inches tall. Her skin was dark brown and her hair, which matched her eyes, was light brown. Monica was a few months short of turning fifteen but had the knowledge of someone twice her age. She had no choice but to grow up quickly, especially being cursed with a mother like Jenette.

Like most of the other illegitimate children in the economically stressed Detroit neighborhood, Monica’s mother was a 100-percent alcoholic crossed with an addicted junkie and proud of it. She had no shame whatsoever. Day or night, Jenette could be found jumping in and out of cars, trying to get money by hook or by crook. If it was a blowjob, no matter if the trick was five or fifty-five, Jenette was on call, no questions asked. That creepy, foul bullshit sadly left Monica to be both mother and father to her little sister and brother.

Of course, all three children had different sperm donors. They never came around or really gave a shit about their kid’s well-being. Considering Jenette’s known slutty ways, each questioned if they were even really the father. Jenette, always depressed, seemed to take their absence out on her children. Getting cursed at, spit at, and all-out ignored was the norm in their household.

Life in Monica’s small corner of the world was based on a lot of chaos. With all the different tricks Jenette would have parading in and out of their small one-bedroom apartment to support her habit, Monica was fed up. The teen didn’t know how much more she could take. She was at her wits’ end. Instead of going to the movies, hanging out at the mall with friends, or even trying to do her homework assignments, only one thing would fill Monica’s long days: scheming to put food on the table and clothes on Dennis’s and Kayla’s backs.

Monica couldn’t help but think back to the first time her mother taught her to “borrow stuff” from the store. Always on the come up, Jenette had her daughter stuffing packs of expensive steaks and family-size pork chops down the back of her pants at an early age. When Jenette would be too sick to get out of bed or off the floor, curled up in a ball throwing up in her mouth, she’d have Monica going to the dope house to cop for her. In the worst-case scenario, sometimes Monica would reluctantly have to cook the drugs up. And more traumatically than that, she’d sometimes shoot it into her mother’s thirsty veins. That was if she could find one that wasn’t tapped out.

Monica was only eight years old at the time Jenette’s addiction began, but her youth and innocence never once mattered to her mother. That was life in the hood and Monica had to get used to it if she wanted to survive. After all, she and her siblings weren’t the only kids who lived like that in their part of the city. It was a “get in where you fit in” situation. Nothing more than Jenette’s live-in babysitter and from time to time her hustle partner, Monica was often hungry. She was left in the house to watch her premature baby brother for days, sometimes weeks at a time. When her unfit, drunken mother, unfortunately, got pregnant again, Monica got on her knees nightly. With eyes closed tightly, she hoped and prayed to God that all of that running the streets and getting high her mom was doing would cease.

Jenette, on the other hand, had a much different game plan and agenda. True to the game of chasing that ultimate high, pregnant or not, she wouldn’t hear of missing a day of clowning in the streets. Monica’s heartfelt wishes meant nothing to her mother. No sooner than Jenette gave birth, she was out the door back on the hunt. Now she was leaving Monica with two kids instead of one. It was nothing short of a small miracle the hospital even released the baby into Jenette’s care. Unfortunately for Monica, they did. The teen was still just a child herself, a baby raising babies as the saying goes.

“All right, Dennis, I’m not playing. Y’all need to get up before you’re late.” Monica roughly shook his arm to show him she meant business.

It was six forty-five in the morning, and Monica was busy trying to get Dennis and Kayla out of bed. This was their everyday early morning routine. The school they attended served free, piping hot breakfast at 7:30 a.m. sharp. Monica wanted her brother and sister to make sure to eat a balanced meal before they started class. Even though most days she missed eating a healthy breakfast herself, her siblings were her top priority in life, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

After the kids were up, Monica lifted the thin, filth-stained mattress from the full-sized bed all three of them shared, and she removed Dennis’s and Kayla’s blue jeans. She always remembered to place them there the night before so they could have somewhat of a crease in them. Unfortunately, since Jenette would sell every iron that Monica would bring in the house, or anything else for that matter that had a plug on it, keeping their clothes neat was a constant struggle.

Monica, a survivor, had been forced to adapt to a few more “broke as shit” conditions, and she hated every minute of doing so. It consisted of a vast range of everything, from putting milk on the windowsills in the winter months to begging the old fart who owned the corner store for credit until the first of the month came around. It was that type of daily demeaning action that caused Monica to ultimately make the decision to step up her game.

Going in the stores month after month begging was trifling and beneath her. The teen was getting older, and her developing body was starting to attract the Arab store owners’ attention in more ways than one. Her new outward appearance caused them to expect and demand way more in exchange for small favors than a virgin Monica was willing to give up. Dennis and Kayla were also growing each day and needed a lot more things than ever before. They each wanted to wear clothes that were just as nice as what the other kids at school wore. Monica hated to let them down. The youthful surrogate mother had to make some shit happen fast for her family before things started to spiral out of control even more. And, as luck would have it, it didn’t take long.

Monica was sitting on the front steps when Dennis and Kayla got home from school that day. They had barely rounded the corner when Monica saw something was wrong.

“What happened to you, Dennis? Who put their fucking hands on you?” Monica was heated as she practically leaped off the stairs running toward her little brother. She was overly protective of her siblings. Instantly pissed seeing that Dennis’s shirt was torn and his lip was bleeding, Monica demanded answers.

“Jeff and ’em was talking ’bout me and Kayla. They said we be wearing the same stuff to school all the time.” Dennis had tears forming in his eyes as he told the story, but he was much too proud to let them drop. “I told them so what and we all started arguing. Then they jumped on me.” Dennis bravely stood tall. “I wasn’t scared of none of them.”

“Where the fuck they asses at? Let them jump on me and shit.” Monica started dusting the dirt out of her brother’s hair. “I’m tired of them little motherfuckers. They clothes ain’t all of that. Y’all shit be clean, with a crease.”

Kayla was standing on the sidewalk, crying and wiping her nose with her sleeve. Her face was beet red, and her eyes were full of pain. Wanting her older sister to know it all, Kayla marched over and yanked down on her brother’s arm. You could tell she was aggravated with every tug.

“Dennis, tell Monica what else they said. Tell her what they said about Mama,” she whined, looking at him and shaking her head.

Dennis stared at the ground, not wanting to look up at his older sister and make direct eye contact. He started slowly wasting time by kicking at the broken concrete curb, hoping and praying that Monica would stop the miniature interrogation she insisted on going through. However, it didn’t work. Monica was growing angrier as the seconds passed and she waited to hear the entire story.

“Dennis, you better stop playing with me and tell me what all the fuck happened before I jump on your ass. Now, what was it that they said?” Monica folded her arms across her chest as she shifted all her weight to one hip. “I’m waiting!”

Dennis took a deep breath, hesitated a few seconds more, then let it out. “They said that mama was nothing but a ho. And then they said she was in the alley by the park, sucking an old man’s dick. Now you happy?” The brave boy unfortunately lost his battle with his pride as tears started to pour from his eyes. “Fuck Mama’s dopefiend ass. I hate her. I wish she was dead,” he yelled while running up the stairs. He disappeared into the slimy-ass apartment building they were forced to call home.

Hearing those cruel words come out of Dennis’s mouth caused both of his sisters to also cry.

Fuck living like this! Monica thought. Shit gotta get better!

Reaching out, she took Kayla’s tiny hand as both girls slowly walked up the stairs. Monica looked down at her little sister and felt an almost unbearable sharp pain in the pit of her stomach. She was the oldest, and their survival was on her. Jenette and her despicable behavior was completely inexcusable, and Monica had to take charge.

“Don’t worry, Kayla. Dennis will be all right.” They entered the building. “We all will, I promise. I’m gonna fix it.”

Two years had passed since the day Dennis had wished their mother would drop dead. Sadly, as life would go, nothing much had changed. Jenette was still a poor excuse for a mother, or even a human being for that matter. Confusion still daily filled Monica’s world. Thankfully Kayla was doing well in school. Monica, still the sole provider of their dysfunctional family, rewarded her younger sibling every chance she got with brand new dresses and lots of books Kayla yearned for.

But Dennis was a horse of a different color and flat-out on the nut. He was straight-up out of order. A certified little thug in training, he was hanging out until all times of the night, skipping school, and constantly fighting. Dennis stayed in some shit. Even though Monica would go out and steal him the hottest gear that was popping, it didn’t seem to matter at all to Dennis. He was determined to go against the grain of any rules that his big sister tried to set for him.

“Damn, boy. What’s your problem? I try to keep your bad ass fresh as can be. You got brand new Tims in every color. You own every throwback I can get my hands on, and I give you something to keep in your pockets on the regular.” Monica was pacing the room as she preached to her hardheaded younger brother. “What else do you want? Do you want the social worker coming back around here again? Would that make you happy?”

Dennis couldn’t deny that his big sis kept him tight. That wasn’t really his problem. Truth be told, he was still pissed about having been cursed with a junkie for a mother. Rubbing his hands together, he nodded. “Naw, Monica, I don’t want that bitch to be bringing her nosy ass over here, but dang.”

“Dang what? And stop cussing, li’l boy.”

“You know what I’m talking ’bout, Monica.”

“Listen, boy. I done told you a thousand times before that’s Mama with her bullshit. That ain’t got jack shit to do with you, me, or Kayla.” Monica went across the living room and sat on the couch next to her brother. “Pay attention, Dennis. This is my last year in high school. I’ll be eighteen in a few months, and then I can try to get custody of both you and Kayla. I know it’s hard, but just chill. It’s our only hope, so don’t fuck it up.”

Dennis truly loved his sister, without question, more than he loved his own mother. Monica was the one who put fly gear on his back, food in his stomach, and always kept his pockets off craps. Leaning back on the worn, tattered couch, he stared up at the paint that was peeling off the ceiling of the run-down apartment. “All right, Monica, I’ll chill,” he said, smiling, “if you braid my hair again tonight.”

“I’m not fucking clowning around with your li’l ass. Don’t make me bust you dead in your mouth.” She pushed his head over to the side playfully.

“Stop touching a grown-ass man,” Dennis laughed as they started to play wrestle. The two were not only brother and sister. They were best friends.

As they continued laughing and joking, they barely noticed Jenette stumble in through the front door. Monica and Dennis could both smell the gin from across the room. Jenette, obviously out of her mind, fell against the kitchen counter and slid down onto the floor. Bumping the side of her face on the refrigerator on the way, the drunken mother never cried out as a small gash instantly started to bleed.

But so what? That was her problem and hers alone. Neither Monica nor Dennis moved to come to her rescue. They were used to their mother being passed out on the floor. It was her second home. Jenette seemed to sleep better there anyhow. After a second of them staring at her with utter disgust, they tightly held their noses and stepped over her body as if she were no more than a puddle of piss in the street. Jenette, knocked out cold, didn’t even move one inch. She would be left all night to keep the mice and cockroaches company.

It was 8:10 a.m. and Monica had just made it inside the classroom before the bell rang. She had been in the hallway taking orders from some of her friends for new outfits. Over the past few months, Monica had been knocking them stores in the head something hard. She was getting anything her heart desired. Monica Howard had gone from being the girl the ignorant guys in her classroom nicknamed Dusty Drawers to being one of the best-dressed chicks in her school. Monica was known on a daily basis to floss top-notch designer jeans and other expensive outfits while carrying every new high-profile bag that came out on the market. Most of the clothes she stole were from neighborhood department stores or local malls. Whenever she could find time, Monica hustled. She would even take the Greyhound bus to New York every other week for all the high-priced items people ordered.

Monica was a little wild when it came to stealing. Having no true method to her madness, she was often careless and disorganized. Monica was cocky and took way too many unnecessary risks in the pursuit of getting what she or others on her list wanted. Most of the security guards were more than familiar with her face, and many knew her by name. The seasoned thief was used to the method of “borrowing things” that Jenette had taught her. However, balling up clothes and sticking them in her loose-fitting overalls was starting to play out. Stuffing belts and baby tees in her oversized purse would often result in the store confiscating their own merchandise and her expensive designer bags as evidence of her crime.

Monica would often breeze into a shop and try on a coat. She would walk around the store for a few moments or so and then make her escape by bolting out the door. With God on her side, Monica would make it to the parking lot sometimes, but other times she didn’t. Often, the only thing that saved her from jail was that she was under eighteen and all the youth homes were always filled to capacity.

With trying to take care of Kayla and Dennis as well as herself, Monica was truly catching it. With only a few months left before she graduated, Monica was planning on going to City College, getting her own little apartment, and having her brother and sister move in. Their “Jenette nightmare” would soon be over if all went as planned. In the meantime, Monica made her money the best way she knew how: by “borrowing.”

That night, lying across her bed, Monica was on the phone. “Okay, girl, tell me one more time.” Monica grabbed a pencil out of her designer book bag and began to scribble on a small piece of paper.

“First, see if you can get me those new jeans they got out. You know, the ones with the different-color design on the pocket,” her best friend expressively explained.

Kanina was Monica’s number-one customer. She always was first in line to get Monica’s hottest pieces. Monica knew all of Kanina’s sizes by heart. She knew her measurements better than any man Kanina had ever fucked around with. Over the months that passed, the two girls had become close friends. Even when Monica had no clothes to sling to earn dough, Kanina would loan her money.

Jenette was still getting high on the regular, and if Monica didn’t have the money to give her mother for drugs, she would and often did take Monica’s or Dennis’s gear out of the house. Whenever Dennis’s belongings went missing, he damn near would try to kill Jenette, mother or not. One day, he hit Jenette so hard upside her head she was unconscious for what seemed like an eternity. For one reason or another, she never fucked with Kayla’s stuff. Monica always tried to keep the peace. But Kanina was a true friend and looked out when need be.

“All right, I got that. What about the top?” Monica questioned. “Do you want long or short sleeves? They come in both and in every color.”

Monica was past careful in taking exact orders so she could make sure to have a definite sale for the stuff right away. Having the money in her hand was a lot easier than clothes to hide from Jenette, especially when the clothes still had price tags on them. Jenette could and often would trade them at the dope house for some product. The dudes who worked inside of the spots loved to see Jenette’s good dopefiend ass coming. They would always end up paying way less than what Monica would have sold the garments for, but that was that old dopefiend mentality Jenette swore by: get high by any means necessary.

Kanina took her time in answering, because she was lying back, picturing the hookup in her mind. “Girl, if you can get both of them, go right ahead. Matter of fact, try to see if you can get the jacket, too.” Even though she only wanted one blouse, she knew it was near the end of the month and that Monica needed the extra loot. Kanina was an only child. Both of her parents worked at a factory and gave her just about everything she asked for. She lived the life that Monica often would daydream about.

“Okay, Kanina, I’m gonna finish this list then go to sleep. I’m tired as hell. I was trying to wait up for Dennis, but you know how that shit goes. Ain’t no telling when he gonna show his li’l punk ass up.” Monica started yawning in the middle of her sentence. “I’m ’bout to fall asleep on you.”

“Monica, girl, I ain’t even gonna front with you. I don’t see how you do all that bullshit. Balls to the wall, flat-out, you better than me. I would go fucking crazy.” Kanina couldn’t help but feel sorry for her friend. Everybody has got a lot of shit to swallow at one time or another, but Monica seemed to stay in line to have a double-hard lump shoved down her throat.

“I know, but don’t worry. I got a game plan. See you after school, and don’t forget to take notes for me.” Monica flipped her cell phone closed and fell back across the bed. The next morning she was going to skip class so she could go “borrowing” and get her pockets back right. There was no food in the house, and of course, she had to fix that.

As she lay in bed, Monica started thinking of graduation, prom, and all the changes that would soon happily come with turning eighteen. She was content in knowing that the clock was ticking and a new life was waiting for her and her siblings. It was only a matter of time before they would be all good.

Her little brother wasn’t quite as patient as Monica. Dennis was in the streets every night getting into some bullshit that would end up costing him and his family dearly. Having Jenette for a mom meant a constant fight around every corner in the hood. She ran scams and fucked over everyone she could, so Jenette kept enemies. Taking up for her time and again was getting on Dennis’s last nerve.

“Oh my God,” Monica screamed while looking at the calendar she kept hanging on the wall in the bedroom. “It’s less than two weeks away from the prom, and I still haven’t found the perfect dress yet. I’m seriously slippin’.”

“So what, crazy? Stop all that noise. I can’t concentrate.” Kayla was trying her best to study.

“Don’t hate. One day your little butt will be out searching for a prom dress too.”

“Maybe, but if I do, I’m gonna make sure that I won’t go with no dumb boy. I am gonna go by myself,” Kayla huffed as she buried her face in the book she was reading.

Monica laughed at her sister. “You say that now. I’ll wait and see what you say in about another two or three years.”

“You better not hold your breath waiting. I hate boys.” Kayla twisted her lips up, folding her arms in protest of Monica’s words.

Monica had Kayla sit down on the floor so she could start to braid her hair. She made sure to keep up her little sister’s appearance. Jenette didn’t have time to care about anything but a good hit. By looking at Kayla, you could never tell that her mother was a junkie.

After about an hour or so, she finally finished. Kayla got up to stretch her legs. “Monica, don’t forget about the awards ceremony tomorrow evening.” She walked over to the mirror to admire her hair. Kayla was swinging her braids from side to side as she twirled around and around until she got dizzy and fell down. “I really want you to come, okay?”

“I won’t forget, I promise. I’m going to the big mall later to get us both something to wear. What color dress do you want?”

“Can you see if you can find a yellow dress?” Kayla leaped to her feet. “I want to wear the sandals you got for me last week, and a yellow dress would match. Please, Monica?”

Monica kissed Kayla on her cheek. “Not a problem, baby girl. You know I got you.” She walked over to the dresser and got out her book. Damn, these orders are piling up! Everybody and they mama wants a prom dress.

She double-checked the list and made calls to the people she knew had cash on hand. Monica wanted to make sure that she would have no problem at all going straight from the mall to their houses, dropping off the items, and getting her loot. If the price tag said $150, then they would pay half. That was the way shit worked.

The senior prom would be the last time to show off in front of all the people in her and Kanina’s class. Even the bitches who didn’t like Monica were putting their orders in. If she would be able to get everything on her list, her pockets would be on bump by nightfall. Monica picked her phone up off the charger and started dialing.

“Hey now, this is Monica. Will you be ready to see me about six o’clock this evening or what?”

“I’ll be here waiting. Try to get red or sky blue. It really doesn’t matter as long as it’s a size eight,” replied the first person on her list.

Monica went on to have similar conversations several times before changing her clothes to head out to the mall. She threw on a pair of Seven jeans, which hung loosely on her body. After pulling a light jacket out of the closet and getting Kayla together, she was out the door.

Monica often paid Miss Lila, the nice old lady who lived across the hall, to babysit her little sister. Sometimes the good neighbor would even fix them plates of. . .