Memphis Streets 2 (Urban)

Chapter 4- Le'Shelle

"You brought this shit on yourself"

I cut a look over at my silent sister, who is slumped on the other side of the rented limousine.The foot soldiers I'd dragged in for tonight's job are all crammed in the front seat to give me some private one-on-one time with Brielle so I can break down her new situation. Brielle, curled in a corner, stares at the dirt beneath her fingernails while a steady stream of tears rolls down her face. Now that she's finally in this bitch, she has stopped all that hollering. Her onceblue dress is now a nasty black and brown. Some of it is dirt, and the rest of it is drying blood.

The pain in my chest grows while my own hellish memories try to resurface. Up until tonight, I had only one responsibility in life: protecting my sister. But in the last six months, Brielle had made that shit impossible.

"I told you, but did you listen? No!" I grit my teeth and shake my head.

"You just had to be hardheaded. The prom! You took that grimy Cartel Lord to the muthafuckin' prom! What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Huh? You thought that I was going to let that shit slide?"

Silence. I hammer my fist against my knee instead of swinging it at her head. I draw in a deep breath, but it doesn't do shit to calm my ass down.

"Wait until this shit gets back to Snake-just wait. He'll be looking at me sideways again. This kind of bullshit is the main muthafuckin' reason he doesn't trust me. Me! After all these damn years of jumping when he says jump, fucking when he says fuck, and blasting when his ass says blast. Now here comes your tired and dumb ass fucking up everything."

Silence. I draw in another deep breath.

"Snake is already out fucking everything that's not nailed down. I got bitches and babies turning up like cockroaches."

A lump clogs in my throat. Coughing, I strain to get the sucker back down while tears burn like acid at the backs of my eyes. I love my nigga. That's my first damn problem. In this crazy street game, love can only bring you disappointment and pain. I've played wifey to Snake's ass for damn near four years. Still, my position as the leader of the Queen Gs feels just as slippery as the day my man moved my ass into his crib on Shotgun Row, the heart of the Vice Disciples. I have some bitch cop on the scene and that retarded bitch YoYo he got stashed somewhere in this shitty city, feeling herself and thinking that she's gonna replace me.

"I'm not going to let you fuck me," I hiss, making up my mind.

"You got me twisted if you thought that shit. I've been through too much to lose it because you ain't got a lick of sense."

My gaze slices back over to Brielle.

"I bet you'd like that shit, huh? Me back on the streets without a pot to piss in or a window to throw the shit out of."

My glare hardens at the thought of the years Brielle had been nestled up in her foster parents' nice little crib over in midtown while I was hustlin' on the streets like a gutter rat. We may be sisters, but our lives couldn't be more different. We were brought up in foster care. Back in the old days, Brielle and I were like two peas in a pod. There wasn't a damn thing that we wouldn't do for each other. Had to. Nobody else gave a damn about us, especially not any of the sorry muthafuckas who took us in just for that little paycheck that came with us. The real nightmare began when I got tits and ass.

Suddenly my foster daddies and play uncles wanted to play with my small nipples and hairless pussy. Muthafuckas used to split my shit wide open on the regular, leaving me crying and bleeding all over the place. Being two years older, I've always believed that it was my responsibility to look after Brielle-that is, until my baby sister flipped the script and started thinking that she was better than me, just because some Huxtable-wannabe couple was pumping her head with college bullshit.