B-More Careful Page 8

  Boy, that was a close call, she thought as she began to undress in the bus bathroom. All the clothes she had boosted, she wore in layers underneath her oversized black leather trench coat. Slowly, she peeled off the stolen merchandise, carefully folding each item. As she did so, she couldn’t help but wonder why the girl from the bus had looked out for her like that.

  Steadily, the congregation began to board the bus. Netta had already bagged up her goods and placed them in the overhead compartments. She was seated and listening to her Walkman by the time Mimi arrived.

  Mimi walked onto the bus alone with bags in hand. As she made her way down the aisle, Netta watched Mimi closely.

  She seems nice. Maybe I shouldn’t have brushed her off earlier.

  When Mimi reached her row, it was Netta who spoke first, breaking the ice.

  “Girl, good looking out back there. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be locked down right now,” Netta said, thankfully. “That white security broad almost had me,” she added with a smile.

  “Oh, you seen her?” Mimi asked, surprised.

  “Yeah, by that time, it was too late to put all that shit back,” Netta said, as both girls laughed at the joke.

  “Girl, I didn’t want to see you locked up all the way in New York, you know?” Mimi said sincerely.

  The more Mimi talked, the more Netta felt bad about how she had treated her earlier. Netta was touched. No one had ever looked out for her that way except Miss Mae. Suddenly, Netta realized they hadn’t been formally introduced.

  “Girl, we been talkin’ and I don’t even know your name,” Netta said.

  “I’m Mimi, my real name is Tamia, but everybody calls me Mimi.”

  “I’m Netta, short for Shanetta. Don’t call me Shanetta though,” Netta said.

  And just like that, a friendship was formed. All the way back to Baltimore, they kicked it. She introduced Netta to her mother who made the remark she hoped to see her in church on Sunday. Tina also made a mental note of how happy Mimi looked. She hadn’t seen her this excited in years.

  Mimi brought her son to the back and introduced him to Netta. Netta never had the opportunity to be around a baby. She played with him and held him the rest of the way home. She even nicknamed him Tiny Tim. During the three-hour ride, Mimi and Netta spilt out the intimate details of their lives to each other. Though they had just met, it just felt natural. Mimi confided in Netta all the drama surrounding her family. The life sentence her one brother got and the death of the other. She talked about her father and her baby’s father Twan. Netta was relieved to hear Mimi had problems, too. She wasn’t the Miss Goody Two Shoes Netta had made her out to be. Talking to Netta felt so good to Mimi, it was like they were long-lost sisters. A good listener, Netta soaked up all the information from Mimi and not once did she interrupt. She just communicated her feelings by a series of facial expressions and nods. After Mimi finished, it was Netta’s turn.

  Picking up where Mimi left off, Netta told the story of her life. She spoke freely about her mother’s drug addiction and her poor living conditions. How and why she started boosting and the violent death of her guardian angel, Miss Mae. For the first time in a long time, she let her guard down. It felt wonderful not to be condemned for her way of life. It was as if a burden had lifted off her chest. What a relief it was to Netta to hold a quality conversation with somebody who was truly concerned about her well-being. She hadn’t experienced this since Miss Mae died.

  Funny how time flies. The bus arrived in B-More as scheduled. Neither Mimi nor Netta noticed the bus had even pulled into the bus station, as they were too busy talking. A noticeable sadness traced over their faces like two kids who had to put away their favorite toy at bedtime. The girls exchanged numbers and said their goodbye’s, reassuring each other they’d be in touch soon.

  All the way home in the car Mimi couldn’t stop talking about Netta.

  “Ma, me and Netta have so much in common. I can tell we’re going to be best friends,” Mimi exclaimed. Then she added, with confidence, “Watch, she’s the sister I never had.”

  Tina smiled and continued driving. She was happy that her daughter was happy. This was the old Mimi. She hadn’t seen her like this since all the trouble with the twins.

  Over the next few days, the girls stayed in constant contact by phone. The phone calls eventually lead to Netta paying Mimi a visit. Since she was too ashamed to let Mimi see her apartment where she lived with her mother, she insisted it would be better for them to visit at Mimi’s home. Mimi understood, and being as though Netta never invited her over, she never asked. Netta’s visits became so frequent they turned to sleepovers.

  Several months later, when Tina found about Netta’s home life, she asked her to stay with them. The invitation was a no brainer for Netta. She didn’t even ask her mother for permission to leave; she just packed up and left one day with Renee was out chasing dope. Before she packed though, Netta carefully shook out all of her clothes for roaches and eggs. She didn’t want to take her unwanted buddies with her. With no luggage, Netta put all her things into green garbage bags. Then, she caught a hack to Mimi’s house.

  The transition from the projects to Mimi’s place was smooth. Tina thought so highly of Netta, she offered her the twins’ old room. Netta graciously declined the offer. How could she accept? The room represented itself as a shrine and had been left intact and untouched the way it was since the day of the murder and the arrest. Netta felt more comfortable in Mimi’s room.

  Always having their own rooms, both girls welcomed each other’s company. Mimi was ecstatic every night, as she dreamed about Netta and sharing her room with her. Netta was her best friend, like a sister, and so it came natural to share everything. She finally had the best friend and roommate she wanted all her life.

  The first few months of Netta’s stay was like one big slumber party. Regularly, they stayed up to the wee hours of the morning talking and listening to “the Quiet Storm” on the radio. They seemed to never run out of things to say. Mimi talked about her sexual experiences and the pain of childbirth as virgin Netta listened carefully. Netta knew about the birds and the bees, but she never did it.

  Mimi’s talks of wild parties, clubs, boys and sex intrigued Netta, sparking a curiosity of adventure she had never thought about. She was ready to see B-More, not just her hood or school or the projects or Renee’s junkie ass. Many nights, she dreamed of having a girlfriend like Mimi. She had always fantasized about going through the door of a club, DJ playing her favorite song, swinging her hair, all dressed up in whatever special Chanel design she copped for the occasion. Yes, heads would turn indeed, and no one would miss the fact that she was there. She always dreamed of having a sister or someone she could hang with, someone who knew the circuit and who knew where to go to be seen. It didn’t take Mimi long to make her dreams come true.

  Hammer Jacks was the first club they went to together. Netta was in awe at all the people Mimi knew. At 17, she had never been inside a club before. She liked the loud house and rap music that blasted over the club’s system. This social setting was just the perfect place for her to show off her clothes. She was in fashion heaven. Although Netta dressed down this night, wearing tight Guess jeans and a matching Guess shirt with sparkly diamond dots, she complimented the outfit with a red, butter-soft leather jacket and some Jordan’s. Even dressed down, she still shined.

  All night long, dudes were trying to holla. Netta and Mimi took a few numbers but didn’t give out their own. None of the cats appealed to Netta. She didn’t plan on going out with any of them, so wasn’t no need in all that swapping numbers rap. She may have been young in age, but she was mature beyond her years. Mimi, on the other hand, flirted constantly and had hustlers buying them drinks. Since having Timmy, Mimi hadn’t really been on the scene. It had been some time since she had been out or had a boyfriend. But now, she had Netta and she’d be smarter this time, not like with Timmy’s father. This time, she’d call the shots.

  As the
night wound down, Mimi had some young hustler she knew drop them off home. Inside the bedroom, the two girls undressed and talked. Mimi eyed Netta’s body closely, every mark, every curve, everything about Netta’s body she consumed with quick glimpses and subtle stares. When Netta turned her back to hang up her clothes, Mimi admired her dark smooth skin tone and hourglass shape. As they spoke, she tried to shake it off, but she couldn’t stop looking. She wanted to see her breasts, watching as Netta stripped down to her panties and bra. Netta, paying no mind to Mimi, put her nightgown over her head and climbed in her bed. Tucked in under the covers, with the lights out, the girls began their midnight chatter that usually lasted all night. Except, this night was almost over.

  “Mimi, I had a good time tonight. Girl, you sure do know how to get your swerve on,” Netta said, giggling.

  “I see you do too,” Mimi giggled right back.

  “Did you see them niggas sweatin’ us?” Netta asked.

  “Girl, that ain’t nothin’. Wait until tomorrow. It’s on!” Mimi said, getting Netta excited.

  “Where we going?” Netta asked, as if Mimi’s answer was worth a cool million.

  “We going to the hottest club in B-More, where all the ballers be. O’Dells!” she excitedly exclaimed.

  Chapter 6

  “Netta, help! Come here! Oh, my God! Netta, come here. Call an ambulance,” Mimi yelled, running through the house.

  Her cries shattered the peace and quiet of this tranquil Saturday afternoon. Groggily, Netta arose from her sleep and hit the floor running. Still dressed in her nightgown, she flew down the stairs towards the screams that could be heard through the house. It was Timmy, he was hysterical, his screams weren’t normal they were agonizing to the ears. When she reached the kitchen, she saw Mimi holding Lil Timmy in her arms, rocking him back and forth in a feeble attempt to calm him down.

  “Oh, my God,” Netta said, staring down at Mimi and the tiny toddler she was holding.

  “Help, call 911,” Mimi SAID.

  Netta didn’t have to ask what happened. Now that she was there in the kitchen, it was self-explanatory. She saw the scattered remains of an accident. An empty hot grease cup and its contents were spilt over the floor next to the table. Burned French fries and hot grease still popped on the unattended stove.

  No, he didn’t spill hot grease on himself. Tell me this ain’t happening, Netta thought, cutting off the stove and retrieving the phone to call 91, all in the same split second.

  “He…he… I was getting something out the refrigerator and he was in his walker. He must have thought the cup was filled with Kool-Aid. He grabbed it and spilt it all over himself,” Mimi said, with tears streaming down her face as she continued rocking Lil Timmy.

  Netta rushed into action grabbing a tray of ice out the freezer, wrapping ice cubes in a dish towel, and answering a hundred questions to a 911 operator, all with Timmy screaming at the top of his lungs. Finished with 911, she took Timmy from Mimi and applied the ice to the burned area of his chest. Lil Timmy was having one terrible time, hollering and screaming at the top of his lungs. A small portion of his skin on the left side of his chest had suffered third-degree burns and his skin was burned away to his baby flesh. He kicked and squirmed as the coldness of the ice numbed the pain. After a minute or two, his screaming turned to crying. Taking control of the situation, Netta called Mimi’s mother at work.

  John Hopkins University Hospital was where the baby was taken. It was world renowned for its state-of-the-art medical procedures and advanced techniques. And fortunately for Timmy, the wound wasn’t as bad as it sounded or looked. It turned out to be second-degree burns and not third. In time, it would heal. The doctor said that being that the accident happened while he was still young, the burn mark would fade as he grew up, possibly to the point where it would be mistaken for a birthmark. It wouldn’t be so grotesque once he healed, and in the years to come, it’d be possibly unnoticeable.

  The doctor washed and dressed his wounds having Mimi watch carefully, so she could do the same. Then the ER doctor gave Mimi a prescription for the pain medication he could take as a liquid and some antibiotic cream she would need to apply two times daily for the next two weeks.

  Mimi felt so guilty, she couldn’t even be happy that it wasn’t that bad. The doctor told her over and over that it could have been much worse had the grease fallen on Lil’ Timmy’s face instead of his chest. Thinking of what could have happened didn’t ease the guilt, however, Mimi was thankful her baby would be okay.

  Visibly shaken, Mimi never stopped crying. She was so hurt for her little boy and feeling so guilty, she couldn’t hold back the tears.

  “Mimi, accidents happen. This could have happened to anybody. You, me or your mother,” Netta said, consoling her friend.

  “Then, why me?” Mimi asked, breaking down with harder tears. “He’s going to hate me for this when he grows up.”

  “No, no he’s not,” Netta assured her. “In a few months, he’ll be healed, and all this will be forgotten.” She wrapped her arms around Mimi’s neck and hugged her, patting her back, telling her it would be okay.

  In the aftermath of the incident, Mimi and Netta grew closer. During that time, Netta noticed a few things about her friend. She was very sensitive, she suffered from low self-esteem, and as beautiful as she was, mentally, she was weak. Forces outside herself always determined her happiness. That summed up Mimi in a nutshell, past being beautiful.

  Netta thought, in light of the accident, Mimi’s maternal instinct would have kicked in overdrive, allowing her to bond more with Lil’ Timmy but it didn’t. Instead, for some strange reason, after the accident Mimi shied away from her son, basically, handing over her motherly responsibilities to her own mother. It was Tina who grew closer to Lil Timmy, nursing him back to health while Mimi reverted back to her old ways.

  Looking for love in all the wrong places, Mimi hit the clubs with a vengeance. Netta, being the friend she was, was right there with her making sure she didn’t do anything stupid. This was a low point for Mimi. She needed some type of release and the clubs seemed to be the place for it. The parties, the weed and the liquor all seemed to dull her pain, allowing a temporary escape. But, it was here in the clubs that her past came back to haunt her. She ran into Twan one night at the Paradox.

  “Bitch, what the fuck you done did to my son. Ya yellow ass should be home now with him, instead out here hoeing!” Twan barked angrily.

  More than anything he was mad at the fact she was in the club and looking good. He couldn’t have her and that was the bigger problem, more than his son’s misfortunate accident. Not to mention, she was standing there looking cute as hell and would be cuttin’ up any minute, but not with him.

  “Twan, get the fuck outta my face with that dumb shit! It was an accident,” she said furiously. “Nigga, you got some nerve! When the fuck you gonna start being a father? Well, when you do, that’s then you can tell me how to be a mother!”

  She got that one off her chest, then turned and walked away heated. Bitch ass nigga, she said to herself as she walked along. Right then, Mimi made up her mind to fix Twan for trying to play her out in public and she knew just how to do it.

  After dropping Netta, off, she stayed in the car with Boo, another big-time hustler from East Baltimore’s LaFayette Projects who just so happened to be one of Twan’s main rivals. Mimi knew all about their beef with one another. She went with him and had sex with him, doing it only to spite Twan, knowing word would get back to him. Thinking that this would hurt him, she never realized that besides a somewhat bruised ego, Twan really didn’t care. He washed his hands of Mimi and the baby a long time ago.

  The next day, Mimi recounted her sexual escapade, blow-by-blow to Netta, who listened to every detail and description Mimi fed her.

  “He ain’t hit you off with no dough?” Netta asked, puzzled by Mimi’s story of revenge.

  “It wasn’t like that. I ain’t crack for no cash. I fucked him to get back at Twan,
” she said, looking at Netta wondering why she didn’t get it.

  Mimi didn’t need money; she had family that took care of her. She wanted for nothing, so it wasn’t all about that with Boo. She was on some other shit.

  “You mean to tell me you let that nigga Boo hit it just cause you wanted some get back?” she asked, looking at Mimi as if she were crazy.

  “Yeah,” answered Mimi.

  “Listen, I’m not gay or nothing like that, but, um, you ain’t no ugly bitch. So, fucking you should be a privilege. A paid privilege! Niggas is dying to get with you, so you should make them take care of you,” Netta said, wanting her to see her mistake.

  “Netta, you talk the talk but you ain’t never been fucked yet,” Mimi stated bluntly.

  “Sho, you right, but when I do, I’ma get mines. You best believe a nigga fucking me, gonna play his part,” Netta said, meaning every word from the bottom of her heart.

  Then and there, the seed was planted and a scheme was hatched. Later on, as time passed, and the future would present itself, Netta would show Mimi better than she could tell her how to handle a hustler.

  And sure enough as the sun shines and the moon glows, a money-green Mercedes Benz E55 AMG slowly came to a stop right in front of Netta, who was standing at the bus stop on her way home from school. The driver of the vehicle was named Major. He was well-built, brown-skinned and a “getting money” motherfucker from Park Heights. Major was attractive in a thuggish sort of way. Fortunately for him, by ghetto standards, his AMG made that nigga a real handsome motherfucker. Lowering his passenger side window, he leaned over in the seat to holla at Netta.

  “Excuse me, miss with the slim waist and the pretty face, you need a ride?” he asked, cool like whip, giving her ass the wrist as he questioned her, all while singling her out from the rest of her comrades.

  Netta frowned, her face giving him the ‘you talking to me’ look. Persistent as ever, Major tried his hand again.