Chapter 19 #2
Oh, it’s finna go down. I’d heard stories about my momma. Apparently, she loved a good fucking time. I just never saw one.
“I was just in her face and his,” Adrienne continued. “And his hoe ain’t do shit. The fuck?” My momma’s head tilted slightly. “That’s why I fucked up her Benz. She knows better.”
Wait. What? I looked at my momma. She fucked up somebody’s Benz? See, these were the things people needed to tell me.
“Tell Hood we ain’t done until I say we’re fucking done.” Adrienne stepped closer.
My momma didn’t flinch or blink. Then Adrienne coughed up some spit, sending it flying toward my momma’s Chanel shoes.
Oh.
I saw the little blonde hairs on the back of my momma’s neck rise—every single one. I didn’t know what it meant yet, but something told me I was about to fuck around and find out. My momma slowly looked down at her Chanel shoes and grabbed a napkin off the table to wipe the spit off them.
Then she smiled. Not a happy smile, either. The kind that made me take two steps back without anyone telling me to.
“Aye, Adrienne… Just call me Hood’s caregiver,” she said calmly. “I take pride in taking care of his weak-ass hoes.”
Adrienne busted out laughing. She ain’t get to finish. One second, my momma was standing beside me. The next—she was on Adrienne’s ass.
BOW…. BOW…. BOW… BOW… BOW…
Her fist smashed straight into Adrienne’s face.
“OH SHIT!”
I jumped back. My momma didn’t. She went to work on that hoe. She stretched that bitch out quick. Fist after fist, Adrienne didn’t have time to get her hands up before my momma was really on her ass. People started screaming and scattering from under the tent. My momma turned this bitch up.
Damn, I wish I could FaceTime Khali and Khaliah so they can see our momma put in work. Shit, I can’t even record this. It happened so fast.
Adrienne’s orange dress is covered in blood. She’s on the ground. This hoe was leaking. And my momma? She didn’t ease up at all; she kept smashing that bitch.
“Ma!”
She couldn’t hear me. Or maybe she could hear me and simply didn’t give a fuck. Adrienne stumbled backward, trying to get away from her, but my momma stayed right there. Now I understood why Uncle Hood had asked: This what we doing?
Why he’d looked at me like my momma had lost her mind for bringing me? Why he’d told me to listen to her but use my own damn common sense, too? This wasn’t no class. This was a motherfucking field trip. And apparently, I had a front-row seat.
I guess the girls standing around were Adrienne’s friends, because they couldn’t stand there and watch my momma get the best of their girl for long. One of them rushed over and reached for my momma’s shoulder.
Oh, hell nah. I don’t even remember deciding to move. One second, I was watching. The next, I was in that shit. I grabbed the girl by her long-ass weave and yanked her back.
“Bitch, y’all got my fucked-up!”
She stumbled, but I didn’t let go. I began pounding the back of her head as she fought to break free from my grip. She stumbled into a table, knocking cups and plates everywhere.
Fuck all that. I drove this bitch down against the table. People were screaming. Someone yelled for us to stop. The music was still blasting. Chairs were scraping across the floor. And somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, my momma was still handling Adrienne like she had nowhere else to be.
Then Adrienne’s other friend tried to jump in. Oh, she made a big fucking mistake. My momma caught her too. I swear I blinked, not because I was scared. My momma was working both of those bitches.
“Ma!”
I reached into the mess, pulled the other girl away from my momma, and turned my attention to her. She swung. I ducked. Oh. So, we doing this?
Bet.
I started working that bitch too. The fuck they thought this was? They weren’t finna jump my momma while I stood around watching. Absolutely the fuck not. Then, through all the yelling and commotion, I heard my momma’s voice.
“JAMIA LEIGH! Put that bitch on her back and make sure she don’t raise the fuck up.”
“Say less!”
I did as I was told. I worked that bitch like my momma wanted me to. I pounded my fist into her chest, making sure I knocked the wind out of this bitch. She instantly fell to the ground. I kept stomping her ass out.
“Eyes up.”
I looked up just in time to see someone else coming toward us. Oh, shit. Class was still in session. The police were coming. I could hear the sirens getting closer, cutting through the music and the yelling around us. Dang, we’re about to go to jail.
“12!”
My momma slid off that bitch so damn fast you would’ve thought somebody flipped a switch.
“Jamia Leigh!”
I looked up. “Bring yo ass on!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me through the crowd.
“Ma—”
“MOVE!”
Oh, now she wants to move. Two minutes ago, this woman had all the time in the world. We took off toward the Ninja as people scattered in every direction. My heart was beating so hard I could feel it in my throat. My momma hopped on the Ninja and fired it up.
“Get yo ass on, and let’s ride!”
I jumped on behind her and barely got my arms around her waist before she pulled away.
“MA!”
“Hold the fuck on!”
The motorcycle shot forward. I squeezed the hell out of her. We peeled away from the park as sirens still screamed somewhere behind us. My adrenaline was through the fucking roof.
I looked back once. “Eyes up!” my momma yelled.
I snapped my head around. “Yes, ma’am!”
She laughed. This woman laughed. Meanwhile, I was back there, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened to my life. Forty minutes ago, I was at the house, complaining that it was too hot to ride a motorcycle.
Now I was leaving Edgewood Day with my heart in my throat, my hijab crooked, and someone else’s hair tangled in my damn fingers.
I looked down at my hand. “Ewe!”
“What?” my momma yelled.
“I got weave in my hand!”
“Throw that shit!”
I opened my fist and let it go. My momma shook her head.
“You did alright.”
“ALRIGHT?”
“You weren’t paying attention for real. You dropped your left fucking hand a few times.”
I stared at the back of her helmet. “Ma, I just fought two old hoes!”
“And?”
I—This woman was fucking insane. “Class dismissed?” I yelled.
“Hell nah. We’re just getting started,” she yelled back before laughing.
Oh, hell. Her phone started ringing through the speakers in her helmet.
“Yeah…”
“You just had to make a mess.”
It’s Uncle Hood.
“If that’s what you wanna call it.”
“They said she tapped yo ass.” He started laughing.
My momma sucked her teeth. “Nigga, do me a favor and pick yo weak-ass bitch up off that fucking pavement. That was light work. I let that hoe pop her shit, but these hands gon’ forever speak for me… These hoes ain’t fucking seeing me nigga, on any day.”
I busted out laughing behind her. Not a single lie told.
“Do me a favor and stop breaking hoes’ hearts,” my momma continued. “I’m done cleaning up behind yo ass. That bitch really needs a bullet in her skull.”
“Come back through. My niece good?”
“I’m good!” I yelled.
“She’s always good if she’s with me,” my momma answered.
“Bring her back through.”
“I can’t. Twelve out there now. It ain’t worth the risk.”
“Aiight. I’ll see you around.”
My momma ended the call, and we kept moving. The farther we got from Edgewood, the more my adrenaline began to come down. I loosened my grip around her waist and looked out at the city passing us by.
What the fuck did I just do? I fought someone.
No.
I fought two old hoes at Edgewood Day with my momma. Because Uncle Hood called her to handle some woman who apparently refused to accept that their relationship was over, and my momma was talking about us just getting started.
I leaned closer. “Ma!”
“What?”
“What do you mean we’re just getting started?”
She laughed again. “Exactly what the fuck I said.”
“Can we start after I eat?”
That made her laugh even harder. “You hungry?”
“Yes! Fighting burns calories.”
I stared at the back of her helmet. Now she wanted to be somebody’s momma.
We headed back toward our neck of the woods, miles from Edgewood, and for the first time since we left the house, I understood why my momma made me keep my face covered. She had planned this shit from beginning to end. Now it makes sense why they call her Kaniya the Great.
The motorcycle. The black clothes. The helmet. The hijab. Even the way she circled that park before we stopped. None of it was random. I thought my momma had brought me along for the ride.
Nah, she brought me because she wanted me to learn. Apparently—class wasn’t over yet.