End of the Line

All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

Table of Contents

Urban Books, LLC
97 N18th Street
Wyandanch, NY 11798

 

End of the Line Copyright © 2016 Treasure Hernandez

 

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior consent of the Publisher, except brief quotes used in reviews.

ISBN: 978-1-6228-6726-4

 

 

 

 

Distributed by Kensington Publishing Corp.
Submit orders to:
Customer Service
400 Hahn Road
Westminster, MD 21157-4627
Phone: 1-800-733-3000
Fax: 1-800-659-2436

The always ambitious duo thought they could grow up, then blow up being big-time rappers. Maybe owning an NBA team to opening up the city’s first drive-through strip club, they were always huddled together scheming about this or that since junior high. Unfortunately, Mike Mike and Jessica were known to dream big and fail hard. For him, those failures were sometimes more than he could stand. His spirit would be broken for days, if not weeks. On the flip side of the coin, Jessica was entirely different. Determined to succeed, she never once looked at anything they’d try or plot up on as a disappointment. If it didn’t pan out, the hustle-minded female considered it merely a slight obstacle in the way of getting money or the come up she craved. When the struggling young couple first decided to move in together years ago, they thought it would be all smiles and cotton candy. Jessica was working part-time at the movie theater while taking a night class at the community college. It was minimum wage, but as long as they were together that was all that initially mattered to her. The struggle was real, but it was theirs together.

Mike Mike had dropped out of school in the eleventh-grade; just because. Jessica knew his mild case of dyslexia was holding him back, and he’d given up. Not judgmental, she accepted him as he was. Jessica knew if she did her part and her man did his, no paper diploma mattered; just the bills being paid at their “love nest.” Mike Mike started off good like most young men his age. Not prideful, he was working at Burger King on the day shift. Wanting to stay up all hours of the night, of course he lost his job because he was always late clocking in. Still young in the head, the youth wanted to smoke weed and do whatever whenever he wanted. Even if it meant they starved, the budhead still chose weed.

With bills beyond past due and no other place to lay her head, their situation had become dire. Out here on her own, she had no family to turn to if evicted. It would be the streets or a shelter, neither seeming appealing to the young girl. Jessica was overwhelmed with her life and the way it was going. The clock was ticking on a definite eviction as she cried herself to sleep one late-summer night.

Mike Mike, however, played his new game without a single care in the world. As the hours seemed to drag by, restless, she tossed and turned, worried enough for both of them. With a new attitude in tow, Jessica emerged the next morning as J-Rite; a down-for-that-life bitch, swearing to herself she’d never go hungry or be broke again. Fuck the world and Mike Mike as well if he didn’t like it.

* * *

“Look, now, I already done told you this more than once. Real talk, if you think a pretty young bitch like me just gonna sit around and not get that money, you dumber than your best friend’s brother I just fucked!”

Mike Mike paused his video game. His hands started to tremble. Dumbfounded, he thought he must’ve been in a dream. He had to be. What else could be the reason for what was happening; what he thought he’d heard. “Hold up! Say what now? I ain’t hear you right. Matter of damn fact, I
know
I didn’t.” He couldn’t believe the words he thought were coming out of his supposed woman’s mouth.

“Whatever, boy,” J-Rite nonchalantly waved her hand. Dismissing him back to the television where his attention always stayed focused on, she kept doing what she was doing.

It was Detroit. And times were tight in their household like everywhere else in the crime-ridden city. The couple struggled and paid bills—well, she did. Mike Mike, uneducated in the books as well as the streets, sat back. He knew Jessica aka J-Rite was worshipping that center stage pole almost every night at the club. And it was no huge secret she’d sell her ass to random motherfuckers every now and then at the end of the month to make ends meet. He’d come to terms with that awhile back. He claimed he didn’t like it, but dealt with it just the same. But this right here was some other type of bullshit she’d just casually blurted out. Some type of disrespectful on another level type of shit. Some shit that was gonna get her head knocked clear off her perfectly framed body. “Yo, I’m sorry,” he hissed, tossing the X-Box controller onto the coffee table and standing up. “But what the fuck did you just say? See, I know I must be buzzing off these trees and whatnot.”

“You heard me, crazy!” Jessica was more than fed up with the mini-interrogation on what she did with “her pussy” the night before. Caught heavy in her emotions, she posted up standing her ground.

“No, the fuck I didn’t! Repeat yourself!”

“Yes, the fuck you did, so don’t play with me. I ain’t got time for it!”

“Well, guess what? You better make time,” he demanded, staring at her from across the room with malice. Knowing he wasn’t hearing things, his night had taken a drastic turn. Seconds ago, he was on the sixth level of his game and feeling high as two kites. Now he had heard his girl say the unimaginable. Now he had to get her all the way together.

“Mike Mike,” she cruelly smirked going in for the kill, “your sorry ass sits around this raggedy motherfucker all goddamn day waiting for me to bring Christmas home, then get mad when I do. Where they do that at? Oh yeah, in
my
house where
I
pay
all
the bills and make shit all good.” Jessica sucked her teeth with a fierce attitude showing no remorse or shame in her scandalous actions. “You got the game all twisted. Well, at least with me you do—so beat it. I ain’t trying to go there with you!”

“Fuck all that you talking about, Jessica! Did you just say you hit Buzzy wannabe kingpin ass off last night, or what? Is
that
what you said? I swear to God is
that
what the fuck you just said or naw?”

“Yeah, and so what? Damn,” she rolled her neck while giving Mike Mike the serious side eye.

“Yeah, and so what this, you ho.” Wasting no more time with the back-and-forth word game, Mike Mike was beside himself. With ease, he leaped over the coffee table ready to go berserk. Knocking the controller, his beer, a dirty plate, and some weed onto the floor, Jessica wasn’t ready. Running up on the feisty-mouthed female, the fact she didn’t flinch made him even madder.

“Ain’t nobody scared of you, boy. You ain’t gonna do jack shit to me so you best fall all the way back with that drama.”

Raising his hand high, Mike Mike brought it slamming down. After two or three smacks across her face, he strong-armed and yanked Jessica up against the wall. Defiant, she was a trooper refusing to shed a tear. In the midst of his physical tirade, he couldn’t cope with what she’d said. “Damn, girl, for real, though? How you gonna play me with my fam outta all the tricks in Detroit? You’s one straight foul bitch! I should kill your ass right here. I swear, I should choke the dog shit outta you!”

Despite his visible wrath, she coldly dismissed his overly dramatic threats of murder and obvious hurt feelings. “Boy, bye. That’s
all
you got? You slap a bitch just like you fuck—weak as hell! And if you kill me, how you gonna survive? You ain’t got no hustle in you. Your whack ass ain’t got no game whatsoever.” Used to putting dudes in their place at the club when need be, she gave Mike Mike a few more swift back-to-back blows to his already-bruised ego. “And let’s not forget, Negro, I put food on the table. My pretty ass pay that electric bill that game my cash paid for is plugged into, so—”

“What the fuck ever, Jessica.” His voice got louder as his grip tightened, and he overlooked the last statement she’d made. “So is that where ya’ stankin’ ass was when I kept calling you last night to bring me some food—was it? Tell me, bitch—tell me! Was it?”

“Boy, get on with that, calling me on some damn Obama minute phone you got for free off the corner. And got the nerve to be asking for food. Noncontract-having Negro. Boss ya’ life up, Mike Mike. Damn, do something other than play that game and smoke weed.”

“What, Jessica? Who in the fuck you think you talking to?” His manhood, already in question, had suffered yet another serious blow, to say the least. Using all the brute force he had, Mike Mike shoved her small frame into the wall. As tiny pieces of paint chips dropped to the floor, Jessica was unmoved in spirit. Repeating the rough tactic a few more times, he saw he had yet to make her cower. “You talking to me?”

“Yes, Mike Mike. You nigga, you! Now get your damn hands off me and pray to God you ain’t put no marks on my face. I gotta work later, and it’s supposed to be a lot of money in the building tonight! And if you make me miss out on one damn penny because my face ain’t looking right, then . . .” Even though she was small for her age, Jessica could take a punch better than most men. Abandoned by her mentally deranged mother when only six, Jessica was hard as steel. She had to be. Raised in foster home after foster home, she’d been abused, not only sexually, but physically, as well. When it came down to it, she trusted no one in the world; sometimes, not even herself. J-Rite did have one brother named Hutch, short for Hutchinson, she used to hang with from time to time growing up, but he got brutally killed by the police. After his untimely death, she, or her attitude toward life, was never quite the same. Knowing another day was never promised, Jessica was definitely cutthroat, the way Detroit raised most of its kids to be.

Infuriated in his feelings, Mike Mike was not ready to let what Jessica claimed to have jumped off go that easily. A bruised ego Mike Mike went in even harder. His wrath intensified. Squeezing his girl’s neck, his voice grew louder. “Fuck your face, bitch, and matter of fact, fuck your life! Ain’t jack shit sweet around this way. Me and Buzzy’s brother is best friends, and you gonna just say y’all did it? And I’m supposed to be like, so what? I’m good with it? You gonna mess around and make me skull drag ya’ ass all around this motherfucker!”

“You drag me? Imagine that bullshit! What you need to do is man up and stop tripping. He had some money to spend, so he was good to go. I already told you my car need a new water pump and front brakes, so that’s that. The club pay was slow the last couple of days, so yeah—
bam;
somebody had to sponsor paying the mechanic. And I know it couldn’t be your sorry X-Box-playing ass.” Prying his hands from her throat, Jessica, hard core, didn’t skip a beat. “Besides, you smoking the weed his money bought and drinking an extra beer he had in the backseat of his truck where we banged at, so ummm . . . Yeah, get over it; kick rocks!”

“What! So it’s like that?” Mike Mike glanced over on the floor where the empty bottle was laying. Feeling like he’d slow swallowed the devil’s homemade brew, he wanted to throw up. He wanted to murder both Buzzy and her.

“It’s just like that. You heard me. What’s done is done. Shit, I was tired of banging that greasy mechanic for fixing my ride, and he was tired of not getting cash,” Jessica nonchalantly popped off about bartering with her cat. Unfazed by the impromptu lightweight beating, she finally snatched away, casually strolling toward the bathroom. “Now, like I said, get the fuck over it, clean that bullshit up, and go grab my damn bag!”

“Your fucking bag?”

“Yeah, fool, my fucking bag. The game don’t stop around here for me.”

“The game?”

“Yes, Mike Mike,
the game!
Money talks and real bullshit walks!”

“J, you’s real shady with your shit. Ratchet as fuck. You gave Buzzy the pussy;
my
pussy! I mean, you acting like this a joke or something.”

“What’s a joke,” Jessica paused with more attitude than when he’d just had his hands around her throat, “is you talking about having a roof over my head, eating, drinking, buying what I need when I need it. You talking about that? Naw, you couldn’t be. See, I’m gonna have all that and more one day, so that can’t even be what you mean!”

“Yeah, what the fuck if I am?” Mike Mike was more in his feelings now than when J-Rite didn’t come home for two days saying she unexpectedly went on a trip with some of her girls. “And do Derek know about the messed-up shit you did with his brother?”

Jessica smirked at the question before she replied. “I mean Derek was most definitely down at the club last night for a little while with Buzzy, so probably. But if you asking was he actually in the truck watching us get down or giving blow-by-blow commentary on every gulp, twist, and turn, naw, he wasn’t.”

Mike Mike felt like he’d been sucker punched in the stomach. “I swear I can’t believe you ain’t got no type of filter. You crazy like that damn sick-in-the head mother of yours was and Hutch! Not giving a fuck must run deep in all y’alls bloodline!”

“Come on now and miss me with all that shit about my family, dead or not. Play your position, Mike Mike, before you don’t have no position to play. I mean, you wanna eat steak tomorrow, don’t you? And smoke free weed, that good Kush?”

“Say what?”

“Yeah, nigga; well, I don’t see your ass running back out to get another job since Burger King. I mean, shit, McDonald’s hires every day too. Collect some empty bottles or some scrap metal or something . . . damn.” After a few seconds of dead silence, Jessica laughed taunting “her man” even more as she combed through her weave with her fingers. “Yup, that’s what the hell I thought, fool; crickets around this motherfucker! You ain’t trying to do shit but what you doing—living off of me. When I did all those parties a few months ago, back to back, you used to come have my back and make sure niggas didn’t get too wild with it. But now, you just like forget me, so I’m like forget you too.”

“So okay, that’s it, huh? You gonna go to work like you ain’t just tell me that dumb bullshit about my best friend’s brother; me and him practically grew up together.” Lighting a Newport to calm his nerves, Mike Mike was still infuriated.
This stankin’ bitch! This dirty ho!
He paced the floor in denial. He couldn’t believe what he’d just found out. His woman and Derek’s brother had smashed—committing the ultimate hood betrayal.

Jessica had just about enough as she was willing to take from a person who added nothing to her life and brought nothing to the table. As far as she was concerned, if he didn’t want her being out in them streets and doing what she did, he’d step off wit’ that judgmental crap. “All right, Mike Mike, well, let’s just say I kept it in the family and kept that shit moving. I’m doing me all the way.”