Down Chick

Chapter One: A Lesson Well Taught

Unedited, as is the rest of the story. 

Chapter One: A Lesson Well Taught

“Now there are two kinds of bitches, Lakeisha,” Ambrianna lectured. “The first kind of bitch is the kind that I can’t stand. Those are the bitches that don’t give a fuck about anyone else other than themselves. They dem bitch ass hos who steal other bitches’ men. They trifling ass fuck. They’ll fuck any and everything moving. Grimey bitches would be a more appropriate term.”

Ambrianna’s face scrunched up in a scowl for a moment, before she lifted the cigarette butt to her lips and inhaled deeply. Her lips formed the shape of an “o”, as she exhaled the smoke.

“Grimey ass bitches like, LaTaya and her crew. Stealing niggas money and shit. That’s why that bitch is gone be seeing my fist real soon. You know all about them, don’t you? Her younger sister took that nigga from you, didn’t she?” When I nodded my head, she continued. “Trifling hos like are her are the ones you want to stay away from.”

There was a pause of silence as she contemplated her memories. There was no question of what she was remembering. I knew fairly well. LaTaya had stolen from her and she was still pissed about it. I guess, I’d be too, if she stole my boyfriend and robbed my house.

We were sitting on the couch in her living room. I had my feet curled up beneath me and she had both feet crossed at the ankle and resting on the edge of her coffee table. The room wasn’t much, but it was more than enough. The paint on the walls were cracked and peeling away. The carpet had stains that would probably never come out, and the couches were worn down and ragged.

“The second kind of bitch is the ones that I want you to hang with.  Bitches like me. Real bitches who are down. If you learn nothing else that I teach you, Lakeisha, remember this lesson. Real bitches are ride or die. They’re loyal. They stick by their men through the thick and the thin. Real bitches make their own money. Hell, real bitches are bad ass fuck. We’re independent. We don’t fuck men in order to keep a roof over our heads, unless we have no other choice—even then we don’t let them run over us. A real bitch won’t steal another nigga from a woman. She won’t have to. That nigga will come running to you.”

She looked down at me her hazel green eyes holding a glint of coldness within them. She dragged from the cigarette once more before pushing it into the ash tray and putting the flame out. A cloud of smoke escaped her mouth, before she lifted a small glass of Cognac up to her lips. As she finished the glass in one shot, my eyes widened.

Ambrianna was always smoking and drinking. She was the woman who had taught me everything. She wasn’t my mother, but she was the closest thing that I had to one. I didn’t always like her, but I appreciated what I had. What else was to be expected? My mother sure as hell couldn’t take care of me. She wasn’t even around. Crack had always been more important to her than her daughter.

When my mom had lost our apartment because she used the money that I had made from working at the local fast food restaurant in the hood to buy more crack—Ambrianna had taken me in. If she hadn’t then I’d either be in foster care or on the streets doing whatever it took to survive. I would forever be grateful to her.

 She was a beautiful Latina with a cold outlook on life. She was only eleven years older than me. When she wasn’t drunk than she gave me lectures about life. They made sense to me. The only thing about that was that when she was drunk she was crazy as fuck. Everything that she warned me not to do, she did. She slept with men and they stayed the night. Whenever that happened, I locked the bedroom door.

When I thought about the difference between my life a few months before and today, I was grateful. There had been a time when I laid on the floor in a roach infested old beat up apartment building, hungry. That was before I had gotten my job and my mom started charging me to live with her. I had ate at work and then came home late, so that I wouldn’t have to worry about my mom stealing my food.