Taking the Heart of A Hitta

1

Renee

This nigga really thinks the shit that he does is cool. Looking at him walk around the house with his pants sagging, rapping lyrics to songs that no nigga his age with kids should be rapping got on my damn nerves. It was like he was the only one stuck in the past. Even the kids had a more mature thought process than he did. There was a time that his brown skin and light brown eyes would turn my ass on. Now, when I looked at him, all I saw was bullshit on two feet. Yeah, he was sexy with his slightly bowlegged ass, but I’ll admit, if I had known shit would turn out like this, I wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

I gotta hit the block tonight, so I’ll be in late as fuck, he told me.

I didn’t even waste my breath replying to him. I rolled my eyes and continued to look at TV.

Why you rolling your eyes and shit? You got something you need to get off your chest? he asked with irritation laced all over his words. If he was irritated, then good for his ass.

When are you gonna stop doing this shit? I finally asked.

I was gonna keep my words to myself, but since he wanted to stand there looking for me to say something, I said it.

Oh, now you want me to stop. I was doing this shit when you met me. Ain’t shit changed, baby girl. You and the kids aren’t complaining when the bills are getting paid. So, don’t come at me with that ‘when you gonna stop’ shit. I’m not trying to hear that shit tonight, he said and walked away.

Did you forget I have a damn job? You’re acting like you’re still young. Guess what? You’re not, Jacob, you’re forty-one years old and still hugging the block with niggas who can be your kids. I mean that shit literally because I know you used to fuck they mommas when you were in high school. You’ve been doing this all your damn life, and what do you have to show for it? The only thing that you can claim as something to show for it is this house. Then again, you can’t even say that, because if it wasn’t for my job and credit score, we would still be in that damn apartment. I keep telling you to at least put some money to the side or invest it in something. The shit you’re doing doesn’t have a 401K or any retirement plan. Shit, you can’t even collect social security when you get a little older. You have to think about the future, Jacob. The shit you’re doing is just fucking stupid, I told him.

Stupid? How the fuck you gonna say me making money is stupid? he barked.

Out of everything I said, that’s all you heard? I said with my hand on my hip.

This nigga had never looked as dumb to me as he did at that moment.

Man, I’m out, he said before walking out the door.

I took a deep breath and sat down on the couch. This had become an ongoing argument with us lately. I’ve never seen anyone who only wanted to sell drugs all their life.

Jacob was winning in his mind, and that was the sad part. How could he see what he was doing as winning? I guess this is partially my fault too because I never pushed for him to do anything else. I shook my head as I looked around the house I called home. We lived in a two-story, five-bedroom house. We weren’t in the hood anymore, but slowly, it was starting to feel like a prison to me.

Jacob and I have been together for nineteen years. The whole time, he’d sold drugs. I just couldn’t understand why he was still doing it. He made enough money to help me with the bills, but he definitely wasn’t a kingpin of even the lowest level.

I had loved Jacob since a year after we met. At the time, I was a young mother struggling to keep bills paid. I gave birth to my son when I was seventeen. When I met Jacob, Verquan was three years old. I would see Jacob on my way to and from my car. We lived in Chesapeake Townhouses back then. It wasn’t the hood to many, but it was as hood as I wanted to get with a small child.

Anyway, I would see Jacob hanging out with the fellas day in and day out. He started out with just saying hi, then progressed to helping me bring stuff in the house if I needed help. I think in a way I was lonely for some adult conversation at the time. One thing led to another, and we started dating. Eventually, we became a couple then we got engaged.

And that’s it. We were still engaged. Yup, I was a ‘forever fiancé’. So far, we’d been engaged for five years and counting. I didn’t talk about the wedding, and he didn’t either. It was like we were just going through the motions. I just wanted him to grow up.

Jacob was still hugging the block all times of the night. When he came in, he would toss a few dollars my way for the bills and do whatever with the rest. I didn’t know how he hung out with all those young guys all the time, and none of them told him to get his old ass off the block. I knew some of their parents had to know him. Shit, I know I would feel funny hustling next to somebody whose parents I used to go to school with.

I got tired of thinking about Jacob and his backward way of hustling, so I went to bed.

Ma, I need money for my class dues, Jashon, my sixteen-year-old son, told me.

Look on the table and get what you need. Just what you need too, Jashon. Don’t take my money to school to flex in front of one of those hoochiefied little girls, I told him.

Ma, that’s not even a word, he said and laughed.

Okay, well, how about skanky, thot, skeezers, jezebels, hookers, or scallywags? I said, making him laugh even harder. He had an infectious laugh that made me laugh with him.

Never say any of those words again, he told me.

I’m about to leave. Don’t try to skip school today either, Jashon. Get on that bus and take your black ass to all your classes. Do you hear me? I asked him.

Yes, Mama, he said.

Jashon was a good boy, he just got easily distracted in school. I had to stay on him to make sure he would graduate. His father wasn’t exactly a big help in that department either.

I grabbed my keys, noting that it was now seven thirty in the morning, and Jacob was nowhere to be found. I headed to my job after stopping at Starbucks, of course. I had to figure out what I was going to do about my home life. Things were getting old, I was getting old, and I was getting tired.

2

Shawn

H ello?

I answered my phone as I tried to concentrate on the road, map my day out, and listen to the caller all at the same time.

Shawn, man, that shit you put my money in paid off like a motherfucker. Good looking out on that shit, man, Jaybo said.

It’s all good, man. I told you I would look out, and I did. I keep telling you the stocks are the best way to let your money work for you. You just gotta be smart with your shit, I told him.

I told you that your ass should’ve stayed in school for this shit. You’re doing all this without a damn degree. You could be out here getting these white folks for their money while playing their game. You smart motherfucker, Jaybo said and laughed.

Nah, I just do this shit to watch my money grow. I’m good on all the other shit, I told him.

Fucking with you, I’ll have just as much legal money as illegal money. With the type of numbers you’re bringing me in, you should be doing this shit for money, he said.

Jaybo was the man to see in the seven cities. He had everything on lock. I’m talking from the hoes to the drugs. It wasn’t because he was a big, built mother fucker that caused him to have shit on lock either. He only stood six feet, dark skinned, with a baldhead and a beard. When, I saw him, he usually had on some black old school shades. The only jewelry he wore was a beaded necklace around his neck and a gold watch on his arm.

I used to work under him until I got my ass out of the game. I wasn’t on his level as far as being a kingpin or no shit like that, but I held my own when I was out there. One night we were chilling at one of his clubs talking about shit we wanted to do in the future. Somehow, the conversation got on investing. I told him about some of the things I had planned for when I got out of the game, and he liked it. Now that I was out of the game, he made sure to slide some money my way for me to invest for him. That’s what this call was about this early in the damn morning.

Nah, I told you I’m good just helping out. All the stocks aren’t gonna guarantee a profit. You’ve gotta take the good with the bad, I told him as I pulled up to one of my franchises.

You need to at least give a ghetto money management class or some shit like that. Niggas these days just hustling for a new whip, some fronts, or to get they girl that ass she’s always wanted, Jaybo said and laughed.

I nodded my head in agreement even though he couldn’t see me.

True shit. I’m ’bout to get off this phone. I’ll hit you up if I see something that looks promising, I told him.

Alright. One, he said before ending the call.

I walked into the Starbucks… Well, my Starbucks. I came in there in the morning to chill and look at the stock market. I bought this Starbucks last year when all that calling the police on black folks went on in one of the stores. The owner wanted to cut ties with the company, so I stepped in and took it off their hands. The entire staff was black; even the part-time high school kids who worked there were black.

I needed to do more than just sit and talk about change. So, I figured the only way to be sure the Starbucks I went to was going to treat me well was to buy the motherfucker. I know everyone can’t just go out and buy shit like that. I was able, so that’s what I did.

Excuse me, I heard a feminine voice behind me say.

I didn’t even realize I was standing outside of the store blocking the door.

Oh, my bad, beautiful, I said and stepped to the side to open the door for her.

Beautiful wasn’t the word for this woman. I was looking, but couldn’t find one drop of makeup, not even lip gloss. There was something missing in her eyes, though.

Are you going to block my path all day today? she asked with a giggle.

Whatever it is, it’ll work out, I said to her.

I didn’t know why I said that but, I did. I wanted to reach out and give her a hug, but I didn’t even know her.

"Thank you