Powder Blu

by Brandi Johnson

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

Synopsis

What do you do when you have to choose between true love and the love of money?

Blu thinks she knows all there is to know about the dope game. She's watched her momma serve out of the same place they lay their heads since she was a little girl. Then her brother's best friend, Budz, steps up and shows her that there is more to the game than just selling drugs.

With love, loyalty, and wealth on her side, what more could she want? Blu quickly finds out when she is introduced to Black, a mysterious, sexy Trinidadian who is every girl's dream. Blu is determined to make him her reality. Torn between two men who have secrets and motives of their own, Blu has no idea what she's gotten herself into, but she knows there is only one way out.

Release date: December 1, 2014

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 247

Sample

I live on Eighty-third and Ellis Street in Chicago. Every day I’m awakened by these crackheads knocking on the damn door all night long, feining for that morning fix. Along Seventy-ninth was the hot spot, but the raw shit was here, plus, Momma sold hers cheaper than anybody else in the hood, which made a lotta the dope niggas mad.

“Who is it?” I yelled as someone banged on the door like the police.

“It’s me, you got somethin’?” I heard someone say.

“Who is me?” I asked getting up from the couch, still half asleep.

“Me, Bart,” he answered in a slight whisper.

I walked over to the door and looked through the peephole to make sure it really was Bart on the other side of the door and not just some random fein my momma never fucked with. My momma was real particular about the hypes she served. She wasn’t trying to get caught up again. She already had one dope case pending that she was going back and forth to court for. For the life of me, I didn’t understand why she wouldn’t give up selling dope and get herself a real job. Sure enough, it was Bart’s dusty-ass standing there scratching the skin off his dirty-ass neck.

“Hang on, let me go get my momma,” I said, and slowly turned to walk away. I made my way down the hall and lightly knocked on my mother’s bedroom door. Not getting an answer, I bent down, looked through the keyhole, and the sight nearly floored me. I saw my momma on her hands and knees like a dog with her eyes shut tight, titties hanging, while her new big fat-ass boyfriend, Troy, was behind her moving back and forth. They looked like two big hippos during mating season. I instantly got sick to my stomach. I didn’t know if it was from the Chinese food I ate late last night or the sight that made me throw up all over my momma’s freshly waxed hardwood floors. I guessed the sound of me regurgitating right outside her door alerted her that someone was watching.

“Blu, is that you?” she called out.

I stood quietly, afraid to move.

“Is that you, Blu?” she repeated.

“Ummm yes, it’s me,” I answered hesitantly while wiping the liquefied leftovers from my mouth.

“Are you out there throwin’ up all over my damn floor, girl?” she yelled.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered, hesitantly. I knew she was gon’ be mad because she spent all day on her hands and knees waxing. The crazy thing was she only cleaned up to try to impress Troy; any other time the house was fucked up. It wouldn’t be long before Troy saw the real.

“You gon’ clean that shit up,” she fussed. “I just waxed them damn floors!”

“Okay,” I answered.

“What the fuck you doin’ outside my door in the first place?” she continued to yell.

“Somebody at the door,” I answered as I looked down at the pool of vomit.

“Who is it?” Momma asked.

Bring yo’ ass out here and find out, I wanted to say. “Bart,” I answered instead.

“Ask him how much,” she moaned, still never coming to answer the door.

“How much what?” I asked smartly.

“Just go do what the fuck I said!” she yelled, slightly annoyed with my presence.

“Oh, okay.” As I walked toward the front door, I knew what my momma was having me do. I didn’t mind because I wanted to see what it felt like to be a drug dealer just like my momma, and my brother’s best friend, Budz. With the bottom of my pajamas soiled, I unlocked the chain and opened the door to get a good look at Bart. I wanted him to see my face. I wanted him to know that I was in charge of the deal that was about to go down.

“How much?” I asked as my voice echoed in the hallway.

Bart frowned. “Girl, lower yo’ damn voice,” Bart whispered, looking around to see if anyone had heard me. “You tryin’a get ya momma cased up again?”

“No.” I shook my head, embarrassed because Bart knew I was inexperienced.

“Now go tell ya momma I need a quarter ounce.”

“Huh?” I asked, confused.

“Quit lookin’ stupid and go tell her what I said,” he said stepping in, closing the door behind him.” As I walked away, I heard Bart mumbling, “Stacey shouldn’t be lettin’ no li’l-ass kid do her job. Ol’ dumb bitch, that’s how she got busted the last time.”

I continued to walk back toward my mom’s room keeping what Bart just said to myself because I knew if I told her she would be on Bart’s ass like back pockets. All these fiens and these niggas around the hood knew my mom didn’t play. That’s why they never tried to fuck her over ’cause they knew she would pop a nigga in a heartbeat if they ever tried to cross her. What some people was ’sleep to was me and my brother were both born while my momma was locked up in the penitentiary. My aunt Shanican before she had passed away used to tell us that my brother was a felonious assault baby and I was a drug possession baby. That was just a few of the cases my momma had caught during her fifteen-year stint she’d spent in and out of the joint.

I stepped over the puddle of vomit and knocked on my momma’s door again. “Momma!”

“What?” she snapped.

“He said he want a quarter ounce.”

“A’iiiight,” she said, still refusing to get up off the dick long enough to handle her own business. “Blu, are you listenin’ to me?” she yelled from the other side of the door.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered.

“Go look under the kitchen sink; there’s a carton of Epsom salt. Open it up and give him only one ball out of there, you hear me? Only give him one,” she repeated.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied before turning to walk away. I couldn’t believe that I was going to actually make my first drug transaction at the age of fifteen. I was super excited as I walked into the kitchen and did what my mother had told me to do. I followed her directions carefully because I wanted to show her that I wasn’t a little girl anymore and was ready to get into the dope game for myself. I pulled out a clump of white stuff from the Epsom salt box the size of a golf ball, examined it for a few seconds before walking back into the living room and sticking my hand out.

“What you got ya hand out for?” Bart asked.

“Gimme the money first,” I said in a demanding tone. The last thing I needed was for this fein to run off without giving me my money. I would never hear the end of it.

“Awwww, I ain’t gon’ try to beat you outta no money,” Bart fussed as he handed me $125. I really couldn’t add all that well, but one thing my momma made sure of was me and my brother knew how to count and add money so nobody could ever beat us out of any. It wasn’t like I was dumb; I just didn’t take the time to learn anything in school whenever I decided to go. I had other shit to do, like hanging on the block wit’ my older brother, and his sexy-ass best friend, Budz, or kicking it wit’ my girls, Nikki and Sierra. One thing for sure and two for certain, sitting in somebody’s classroom was the last thing on my mind!

“A’iiiight, tell ya momma I might be back later on,” Bart said, before turning to walk back out the door.

Without responding, I closed the door behind him, put the chain on, and headed off to my room to count my money. The feeling I got from my first drug deal had me feeling on top of the world. It was easy as hell! If handing a muthafucka some crack and them giving me money was all I had to do in this dope game, I was 100 percent sure I could do this shit for a living wit’ no problem.

Whoa, I just made my first $125, I thought with a smile as I recounted my money. The sound of my momma’s heavy footsteps coming down the hallway startled me.

“Blu, where is my money?” she busted into my room and yelled.

“But, Momma, I just made this all by myself,” I said and grimaced.

“Girl, you betta give me my shit, or I’ma stick my foot down yo’ narrow ass,” she warned. My momma played about a lot of things but her money damn sure wasn’t one of them so I couldn’t do anything at this point but give her the shit.

“I can’t believe yo’ ass tryin’ to keep my damn money,” my momma ranted as she counted her money, stuck it in her robe pocket, and headed out of my room. “And bring yo’ ass out here and clean that damn shit up from in front of my bedroom door. I almost stepped in it!”

“But I’m the one who sold Bart the stuff,” I argued as I followed her. “So rightfully the money belongs to me.”

My momma stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face me. My first thought was she was about to haul off and slap the shit out of me, but to my surprise she pulled the wad of money out of her robe pocket and peeled off a bill.

“Here,” she said, shoving a five dollar bill into my hand.

I looked at the money as if it was a foreign object. “Five dolla’s?” I frowned. “This all you gon’ give me?”

“If you don’t want it, give it back,” she said, and headed into the kitchen.

I looked around the living room and instantly got a straight attitude. “Now, everybody wanna get their asses up, smellin’ like old sex and stale pizza,” I said frowning while looking at Troy and my older brother, Miguel, as they both sat on the couch eating a bowl of cereal looking like two fat-ass pigs.

“Troy told me Momma let you serve yo’ first hype,” my brother said smirking. “Growin’ up in the world, huh?” he asked sarcastically

“What’s it to ya? I didn’t see you gettin’ yo’ fat-ass up to answer the door.”

“That’s ’cause I don’t sell crack. I sell weed,” Miguel responded before sticking a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“I heard that shit you sell is bunk anyway,” I teased.

“Shit, I sell nothin’ but killa,” my brother said.

“That ain’t what I heard,” I antagonized, getting under his skin.

“Fuck what ya heard, I know my shit is the bomb,” Miguel said, defensively.

“You betta watch yo’ mouth, boy,” my mother warned coming out of the kitchen while scratching her ass.

“But, Mom, she always got somethin’ fly to say,” Miguel whined. “You don’t neva say nothin’ to her!”

“Quit all that damn whinin’, nigga. You sound like an ol’ bitch,” my mother yelled as she walked over to the coffee table and shook a cigarette out of the pack.

“Act like one, too,” I mumbled, hoping my mom didn’t hear me.

“You always takin’ her side!” Miguel huffed, smacking his lips.

“Stop all that damn lyin’ and you betta watch yo’ mouth like I said! Nigga, you only seventeen; remember I’m the only adult in this house. You hear me, boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Miguel answered, slowly.

I looked over at my brother and smirked. We always laughed at each other when one of us got in trouble by Momma. Miguel couldn’t have looked any worse with his bottom lip damn near hanging to the floor. His eyes squinted like a Chinese person as he stared me down. I already knew if my momma wasn’t home he would try to give me some work. I knew my boundaries when she wasn’t around but it was fair game when she was.

Miguel had always thought he was the boss because of the times my mom would ask him to watch me while she hit her out-of-town runs. He would bully me with threats if I told her about all the girls him and Budz had in his room. I couldn’t understand for the life of me what girls saw in Miguel. Now Budz on the other hand was fine as fuck. He was wanted by damn near every chick in the hood, including me. I guessed Frenchie whoever she was had his heart, because her name was tattooed on the side of his neck. He had a lot of hoes in his stable though. I tried my best to become one of his prize-winning ponies but he always told me I was too young and he looked at me like a little sister. That never stopped me though; I still always shot my shot, hoping one day he would give in. Miguel was my brother and I loved him, but he was fat, black, and ugly just like his daddy with a big mole on the left side of his nose. He had gay tendencies to me, but he had so many girls how could he be? Unless he was undercover. Hell who knew? My only thought was he had to be paying these girls for pussy.

Bored with taunting my brother, I cleaned up the vomit and decided to go to my bedroom, get dressed, and get up outta the house to see what was popping off in the hood. I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of cutoff jean shorts and a shabby T-shirt with Tupac on the front of it. You woulda thought with all the money my momma made selling drugs, she would at least make sure her children were laced, but instead she spent her money on all the different niggas she fucked. Even at the young age of fifteen I knew that niggas only fucked with her because she paid them to. My momma wasn’t the prettiest person in the world, but she wasn’t the ugliest either. She was short, black as fuck, overweight, and kept a scarf wrapped around her nappy-ass head at all times. Thankfully the only thing I’d inherited from her was her color. I got my slim build, height, good hair, and my good looks from my daddy who was part Creole and Puerto Rican. I really couldn’t remember him since he’d left my mom when I was little. I didn’t have no memories, no pictures, no nothing. Only thing I had was a baby doll named Gi-Gi that he’d bought me for my first birthday; other than that I had nothing to remember him by. According to my aunt and maternal grandmother that was more than enough; they’d always told me I wasn’t missing much. I still felt like a piece of me was missing. I was always jealous because Miguel had his father in his life and I didn’t. He constantly reminded me that Rick was his father and not mines.

I grabbed my robe off my bed and headed to the bathroom. After getting undressed, I examined my boyish figure in the mirror. I was tall, dark, and skinny. Miguel always made fun of me calling me Ms. Six O’Clock cause I was built straight up and down, with no curves at all. My momma said once I started having sex my curves would eventually come. I guessed I would never get any ’cause I was never having sex.

After my shower, I quickly got dressed, brushed my hair into a ponytail, and headed toward the door.

“You betta be yo’ ass home before dark,” my momma warned as I opened up the front door.

“Yeah, a’iiiight,” I responded and continued on my way.

“Fast-ass hefah,” I heard her say as I closed the door behind me.

I jumped on the elevator and rode it down to the first floor. I held my breath the entire time because I couldn’t stand the putrid piss smell every time I got on. I stepped off and ran into Budz and some other random niggas who were having a dice game in the hallway.

“Hey, Budz.” I smiled widely as my heart skipped a few beats.

He looked up briefly from the dice game and smiled. “Hey, sis, wassup?”

I hated when he called me sis. “Nothin’, ’bouta go blow somethin’. I need to get my mind right,” I said, trying to sound grown.

“Blow what? Some candy cigarettes?” He laughed, making the other niggas laugh too.

“Some weed, what else you think I’m gon’ smoke?” I answered, embarrassed while rolling my eyes, knowing damn well I didn’t know anything about smoking weed.

“You need to have yo’ ass in school,” he said before rolling the dice.

“I go to school,” I lied.

“Whatever,” Budz said hitting a quick lick before grabbing his money off the floor and standing up. “Miguel home?” he asked, counting his winnings.

“Yeah, his fat-ass up there,” I joked.

Budz shook his head and smiled before pressing the button on the elevator. I watched as he stepped on. He hit the number seven button and winked at me as the doors closed.

With chills running up and down my spine, I hurried out of the apartment building to go brag to my girls Nikki and Sierra about how Budz just tried to get on with me!

“Bitch, please, Budz ain’t checkin’ for you.” Sierra laughed before taking a pull from the blunt.

“Don’t hate ’cause he turned yo’ funky-ass pussy down.” I laughed too, knowing good and well Budz wasn’t thinking about me for real.

“Ooooh, she cracked yo’ chin,” Nikki instigated.

Nikki and Sierra were my girls and even though they were three years older than me we still had a bond that couldn’t be broken. Nikki was short with naturally nappy hair that she kept in braids and weaves so much her follicles were shy around the edges. She had a caramel-colored complexion, and was somewhat overweight from having her kids back to back. What made Nikki attractive to niggas was she was a freak and down for whatever, or so I’d heard. My girl Sierra was busted but loyal. She was tall and had a gangly build. The prettiest thing about Sierra was her long, pretty hair that she wore in a wrap. She was high yellow with hazel eyes. Sierra was always talking ’bout who she was gon’ get on with but all she ever did was sit ’round and smoke and drink. She was an only child with a heroin addict for a mother who didn’t give a fuck about her; that’s why she spent so much time at Nikki’s house. Nikki was more like family than a friend to her. Sierra really didn’t have a choice but to be at Nikki’s . . .