Bad Apple - the Baddest Chick(18)

“Nah, I ain’t into anything being recorded. I don’t get down like that. What’s done wit’ us f*ckin’ stays wit’ us. You feel me?” Kola spoke like a pimp.

Chyna Doll nodded and stopped grinding against Kola. She looked at the young teen, respecting her hustle.

Kola continued. “I’m ’bout to start throwing these sex parties. Some exclusive shit. If you ain’t a member, then you ain’t down. The people I got coming in are the best of the best. I’m talking about niggas so f*ckin’ fine, they make Denzel and Tyrese look like Steve Urkel.”

Chyna laughed.

“But, fo’ real, I’m putting together this elite stable of women that know how to get down for that paper. I’m only ’bout makin’ money.”

“You a pimp or somethin’?”

“I hate pimps. That ain’t my thang. You come in with me, do your business, and at the end of the night, you get your fair share of that gwap. But if you ain’t happy wit’ it, shit, you free to go your own way. This is your choice, baby. I just want you in for the ride. It’s gonna be a safe thang, feel me?” Kola said with coolness.

Chyna Doll was in deep thought. Kola had her sold on it, and she needed to try something different. The men she did VIP with were cheap, sometimes nasty with their hygiene, and didn’t appeal to her at all.

“You in, Chyna Doll?” Kola asked. “I got ya back on this. Promise you that.”

“A’ight, I’ll try it out, but if it ain’t right, I’m walking. I’ve been doin’ my own thang for a long time, but I’ll see what you about.”

Kola smiled. “Oh, it’s right. Believe me. It’s official like drug money.”

Kola was happy. With Chyna Doll and Kandy in, her plans were coming together. She needed two more, and then it would be on.

Kola was on her way. She wanted out of her mother’s place and wanted to be “the baddest chick” in Harlem. She didn’t tolerate being a broke bitch and knew that using sex was the quickest way out of poverty.





CHAPTER 7




It was almost two weeks after Summer Jam, and Apple was reliving that brief encounter with Cross in her mind on the daily. It was a Thursday morning, and once again, she was penniless. She got out of bed to look outside the window, but there was no Cross or any of his goons lingering outside. The block had been quiet for a few days, and Apple missed looking at her eye-candy that would post up outside her bedroom window. She’d heard that police had done a sweep a few days earlier and was praying that Cross didn’t get caught up in the raid. Sighing, she started to get ready for her day.

*****

Mesha and Ayesha had told Apple about their encounter with Dink and Trey. She listened half-heartedly about how well-endowed Trey was, while Dink really didn’t have anything to work with. Apple laughed, thinking about how much shit-talking Dink did that evening. The girls admitted that they had major regrets sleeping with Trey and Dink, and they both blamed it on the alcohol. However, Mesha carried her regret more, knowing she had a boyfriend.

*****

Apple walked to the bathroom, but it was already occupied. She banged on the door and shouted, “Hurry up! I gotta go!”

“Wait!” Kola shouted from the other side.

Apple sucked her teeth. She knew Kola was going to be in there for a while. Her sister had no consideration for anybody but herself, and it was getting on Apple’s last nerve.

Apple walked into the kitchen, where Nichols was preparing breakfast. She smiled. Her little sister was a sweetheart.

“Kola’s still in the bathroom?” Nichols asked.

“Yeah, that bitch is.”

“That’s why I got up early and went before her. You know how she is, Apple.”

“Where’s Ma?”

“Still ’sleep. I ain’t tryin’ to wake her up,” Nichols replied.

Apple began doing the pee-pee dance, trying to hold her urine. “Shit. I’m ’bout to kick down that door if she don’t hurry up.”

“Go next door and use Ms. Terri’s bathroom.”

“Her f*ckin’ son’s a pervert.”

“He probably ain’t home. But what you gonna do? Stand there and pee on yourself?”

Apple knew her sister was right, so she rushed out the door to Ms. Terri’s, a kind Caribbean woman in her late fifties. She was from St. Lucia and had migrated to America thirty years ago. She was like a second mother to the girls. When they were young, Ms. Terri didn’t mind watching them while their mother was in the streets. She would feed them, clothe them, and talk to them sometimes, when needed.

Ms. Terri had four kids, two adult sons who lived on their own, a daughter just starting college, and a young son who was the twins’ age. She had raised a respectable family and wanted to help bring up Denise’s children, but there was always some conflict with the two women. So Ms. Terri thought it was best to mind her own business and stick to raising her own kids.

Apple anxiously knocked on Ms. Terri’s door, still trying to hold her urine. “Ms. Terri, it’s me, Apple. Please open the door. I have to use your bathroom,” she cried out. She continued to bang until the five-four, medium-build woman with long locks and wrinkling brown skin answered the door.

She smiled at Apple. “Kola again?”