The Real Hood Wives of St. Pete.

By Teresa D. Patterson

It's a hard life, but somebody has to live it.

Makayla Jenkins has been struggling to care for her 2-year-old son ever since his father got locked up. She makes a huge mistake and ends up getting pregnant. The last thing she needs is to bring another unwanted child into the world. The closer she gets to her due date, the more desperate she becomes. When the family she’s chosen to give her baby to backs out of the adoption, she panics and does the unthinkable.

After a horrifying experience, Sharniece "Niecy" Brown stops being promiscuous and changes her ways. After months of not dating, she finally lets down her guard and opens her heart to love again. She thinks Sean is the one until he turns out to have a sick obsession for children. What lengths will she go to to protect her three daughters?

Jacqueline Davis’s house went into foreclosure, forcing the family of five to relocate to the projects. To add to the troubles, her husband is dying from pancreatic cancer. How can she remain strong for her children, when inside she feels so broken?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teresa D. Patterson
• Release date: Feb 7, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310730474

Teresa D. Patterson

Teresa D. Patterson came onto the literary scene with her debut novel, Project Queen, which was published by a small independent publishing company. It wasn't long before she realized having complete control over the creation and distribution of her books suited her better, compelling her to publish her own future works.Her first independent published novel was Ex-boyfriend. She went on to write several novels in multiple genres, which includes contemporary fiction, erotica, inspirational fiction, juvenile fiction, romance, and urban lit. She has written twenty-eight novels and co-authored one.

Book preview

The Real Hood Wives of St. Pete.

Teresa D. Patterson

Copyright 2014 by Teresa D. Patterson

Published by Edit Again Publications at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means including electronic, mechanical or photocopying or stored in a retrieval system without permission in writing from the publisher except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages to be included in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My fans are the best. I want to thank anyone who has ever bought one of my books, passed on the word about my books, or have written a book review. I’m truly grateful, because I wouldn’t be able to do this if it wasn’t for you. I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for taking a chance on a new, self-published author.

I also want to thank my family and true friends (not the Jack-in-the-Box ones). I’ll always have your back because you had mine. Thank you for believing in me, even when I didn’t sometimes believe in myself.

I send a very special thanks to Darius Scott for creating this book cover, as well as some of my other covers. He also picked out the cover models that I’d also like to thank for agreeing to be on the cover. Thank you, Tiffany Boone, Von Bryant (Forbidden Fruit), and Artasia Thompson. You beautiful ladies rock!

Chapter One: Makayla Jenkins

Even though Makayla Jenkins had the stereo on loud, blasting the Up With Us Booty Mix on Wild 94.1 FM, the women sitting in her living room were beginning to grate on her ever-loving nerves. They were so loud and ghetto that their high-pitched voices gave her a headache. She wanted to tell them to shut the fuck up, but needed to keep her temper in check and just make some money. All they did was gossip about other people all day long, as if they even had room to talk. She inwardly rolled her eyes at the two women as she continued to braid her client’s hair.

Did you hear about Quandanisha? One of them asked.

Nah. What happened? Did she get arrested again?

Nuh-uh, girl. She got kicked out of her apartment because she couldn’t pay. The woman who started the gossip had a flat nose. It looked like somebody had ironed it when she was a baby. Her name was Kertisha. Her short, uneven, home-permed hair stood straight up on her head.

What you mean, she couldn’t pay? She on Section 8 just like the rest of us, ain’t she? Melissa asked. Everybody called her Missy Poo. She was about two hundred pounds overweight. She wore long boxed braids that hung down her back. She’d worn them for three months and needed to have Makayla re-do the perimeters of her head.

Well, Section 8 only covered $550 and she had to pay the other $50. She got so far behind that the landlord had to evict her, and they cancelled her Section 8 voucher. Now she got to stay in the Mosley Hotel.

That bitch too damn sorry to raise $50? Melissa exclaimed. While she talked, she slapped at her head because the braided-in hair was causing her scalp to itch. Shit, I’ll be damned if I fuck up my Section 8 over some bullshit like that. All them niggas that be in and out of her place, she should’a made one of them pay. If they fucking, they need to be breaking a bitch off.

I know that’s right, Kertisha nodded. Now she at that rat-infested, nasty ass, drug fiend hotel with her kids.

That’s fucked up. Melissa shook her head. I wouldn’t want to live there with my kids. I heard she ain’t got good sense though. Maybe that's why she make so many fucked up decisions.

The women sat on Makayla’s couch and gossiped while they waited for their turn to get their hair done. Makayla tuned them out. They all got on her damn nerves. If she didn’t need the money to buy personal items and extra things that she couldn’t get with food stamps, she wouldn’t have those hating-ass hoes sitting on her leather couch, sweating and stinking it up with their coochie sweat. She’d have to Lysol and Febreze it down when they left. She didn’t understand how a grown ass woman could be so damn funky. Even though Melissa was big, that was no excuse not to wash her ass. As long as she had water, soap and a wash cloth, she needed to put them to use. She had the whole apartment smelling like fried onions. The smell was causing Makayla to get nauseous, being that she was pregnant and still in her first trimester.

What is that smell? Draya asked, crinkling her nose. She was sitting in the chair getting a sew-in. Melissa and Kertisha were too engaged in the latest gossip to hear them. Their conversation had switched from Quandanisha to the boy who’d just shot and killed a police.

That’s Missy Poo’s stank ass. That hoe always leaving out the house smelling like onions and shit. If she too big to get in the shower, she need to get somebody to hose her ass down, Makayla said. She got my stomach hurting. Let me see if I can find some air freshener.

Okay, girl. I hope you can find some spray ‘cause that smell is really raunchy. I’m glad you almost finished with my head so I can bounce. Me and funk do not get along.

They burst out laughing. The other two gossiping women stared across the room at them in curiosity then went back to running their mouths.

Makayla, how long you got on Draya’s head? I’m getting hungry. Do I got time to run up to Pineapple’s and get me a 2 Dolla Holla? Melissa asked.

Please run to some water and wash yo’ funky ass, Makayla muttered low enough for only Draya to hear, causing Draya to crack up.

Yeah, you got time. I’m about to eat something myself before I start vomiting. That shit hurts when there ain’t nothing on your stomach. Only thing come out is green phlegm.

Ugg. That’s nasty. Well, I’ll be back in about twenty minutes. Anybody want me to pick them up something? she asked. The other three women declined because Melissa's funk would probably overpower their food. She struggled to get up from the couch. She resembled an overturned turtle trying to flip over. Finally, she made it to her feet. Puffing hard, she waddled out the door.

That’s one big bitch, Kertisha said after Melissa had left.

Uh-huh. Can you smell her though? Draya asked. Kertisha didn’t answer because she knew Draya was sadity and thought she was better than everybody else. She figured the woman was just trying to throw shade, and she wanted to stay out of it.

Kertisha, you sitting close to Missy Poo, you can’t smell that funk? Makayla asked.

Since Makayla said something, she decided to respond. Nah, I didn’t smell nothing. I’m kinda glad my nose is fucked up, and I don’t have a keen sense of smell. ‘Cause the way y’all faces wrinkled up, she must be funky as hell. Makayla and Draya cracked up again. It was hard to tell if they were laughing about what she’d said regarding her nose being fucked up or just laughing in general.

Oh my damn. Let me find some damn Lysol. I should have told her to sit on a towel or something. It’s a good thing I don’t have cloth furniture. That funk would be hanging on like a mountain climber.

Girl, stop. I can’t, Draya laughed. You got my stomach hurting now.

My bad. I’m just keeping it one hundred. I might have to stop doing her hair if she don’t bathe soon. People come up in here and think it’s my shit smelling like that ‘cause her fumes be lingering. I don’t like that, ‘cause I know I keep a clean house.

Mm-hmm, Kertisha nodded. Cleanliness is next to godliness. It sholl do be clean and smelling nice...when I can smell. Sometimes my smell come back to me, she explained to the other women. I’m glad today ain’t one of them times.

At that moment, a tall, handsome teenager opened the screen door and entered the apartment. "What’s up?’ he greeted.

Cortez, why ain’t you in school, with yo’ Souja Boy looking ass? Makayla asked.

"I don’t look like no damn Souja Boy. Souja Boy look like me," he said. Fuck school. Ain’t nobody got time fuh dat. He plopped down on the couch. What the fuck? His nose scrunched up when the scent from the couch hit him. He hopped back up. Y’all ain’t even got to tell me—Missy Poo big ass was here, wasn’t she? She got it smelling like hot garbage and fish in this bitch. All three women doubled over in a fit of laughter.

Tez, since you here, do me a favor, Makayla said, still holding her stomach. Can you find that air freshener and spray it in here? It’s either in the bathroom or in my room.

Shit, that ain’t gon’ help. You need bleach for that stench.

Boy, stop playing. See if you can find the Lysol too and spray some on that couch and wipe it down. Missy Poo ought to be ashamed to be so rancid. I know she can smell herself if everybody else can smell her ass.

She probably immune to it, Cortez said, heading out of the room. He came back a few minutes later with a wash cloth, some rubbing alcohol and the Lysol. This all I could find. It’ll work. He went about rubbing the couch down. They all turned when there was a loud knock on the screen door. It was Tina the Crackhead, a thin, gaunt woman with most of her teeth missing. She wore her hair slicked back with Pro Styl Gel. It was so short and thin that the dark gel caked on her scalp showed through the balding spots.

Makayla, is Aisha and J’Aisha over here? she called through the screen door, not attempting to come inside.

No, I haven’t seen them this morning, Makayla said.

I saw Aisha at the bus stop, Cortez told her. I didn’t see J’Aisha though.

Aiight. Thank you. That girl gon’ make me beat her ass. She always stayin’ out all night and skippin’ school. Probably out there in the streets fuckin’ and suckin’ some low-life nigga. These kids make my blood pressure rise. She went on a rant about how hard it was raising teenage daughters. Finally, after about fifteen minutes she shut up. Y’all have a good morning now, ya hear?

You too, Ms. Tina, Draya said. Makayla just rolled her eyes. She and Tina didn’t get along since they’d had a knock down all out girl fight a few months prior. And it was all because of Tina’s fast-ass daughter, J’Aisha.

I bet she ‘bout to go find her a rock to smoke. That’ll make her forget all about her daughter, Kertisha said. No one said anything because they knew she’d spoken the truth.

Makayla, you and Ms. Tina still got beef? Draya asked.

Fuck that hoe, Makayla said. She shouldn’t have tried me like she did. It’s not my job to watch her half-grown ass kids. If she got off crack, maybe she could be a better parent.

Makayla’s house was known as the hangout place. Since she styled hair, plenty of people came over. Sometimes, the women’s boyfriends would stop through and smoke, drink or play cards while they waited on their lady to get her hair done. Aisha and J’Aisha had started hanging around. It wasn’t Makayla’s place to govern them. So far, she had only one child she had to be responsible for, and that was two-year-old Darrion. She couldn’t watch somebody else’s kids, and even if she could, it wasn’t like teenagers couldn’t be slick. Aisha and J’Aisha were both hot in the ass and wanted to fuck. They’d sneak off into the bathroom to give some of the neighborhood boys blowjobs while Makayla was side-tracked doing hair.

One particular day, J’Aisha had been missing in action longer than usual and Makayla went to search for her. She found her in Darrion’s bedroom fucking some boy. The boy jumped up, grabbed his clothes, and ran out butt naked, slipping past her before she could do anything to him. J’Aisha just sat there with a nonchalant look on her face, not even bothering to cover herself up.

What do you think you’re doing, J’Aisha?

What it look like? I was tryna get a nut befo’ you busted in here like the Po Po, she said in a bored tone.

Makayla lost it and went upside her head. "Yo’ trifling ass is in my son’s room fucking some nigga. How disrespectful is that? You can fuck all you want ‘cause I’m not yo’ mama, and can’t tell you what to do. But you won’t be doing it in my house. Get yo’ bum-ass