La Familia 2 by Paradise Gomez Page A

were harassing the young hoods who had occupied the car. They had the three men handcuffed and lying face down on the ground as an officer thoroughly searched through their vehicle. It was obvious that they belonged to YGC. But it was crazy.
    Kawanda and I minded our business and went into our building. The Bronx was heating up like an oven on Thanksgiving. I was sick of it. Gunshots every night, and niggas dying; this had been my world for so long that it felt I could never escape it.
    When I got to my floor, I knocked on Ms. Wilson’s door to pick up my son. The heaviness in my eyes showed very much and my pussy still felt stretched out from Travis’s big dick in and out of me. I was paid a lot of money, but I felt dirty and used. The only thing I wanted to do when I walked into my apartment was take a long shower and sleep for hours. But that was going to be an impossible task if Danny was awake with his crying.
    â€œWho?” I heard Ms. Wilson asked through the door.
    â€œIt’s me, Sammy.”
    I heard the locks turn, and Ms. Wilson answered with the chain still on the door, glaring at me in her bedtime rollers and housecoat.
    â€œChile, you know what time it is,” she hissed at me.
    â€œI know, I’m sorry, I just lost track of time, Ms. Wilson and then coming from the city . . .” I apologized sincerely.
    She continued to glare at me. I didn’t want to keep explaining myself. I only wanted to pick up my son and just leave. “Is he still up?” I asked.
    â€œHe’s ’sleep, and you look like shit, chile,” she said.
    â€œI just have a lot on my mind.”
    â€œWe all do. But you still need to be here to pick him up at a decent time.”
    â€œI know.” I was willing to pay her more than twenty-five dollars for the extra help. “Well, can he—” I started, but she cut me off.
    â€œLook, you don’t even have to ask me. He doesn’t need to be woke up at this time in the morning, and with you looking like that. I’ll keep him for the morning so you can go and get some rest.”
    It was music to my ears. “Thank you.”
    â€œBut don’t make this a habit, Sammy.”
    â€œI won’t.” I pulled out some money and handed her fifty dollars. Ms. Wilson wasn’t shy in taking the cash. She may have been old, but like me, she was about her money.
    She stuffed the cash into her housecoat and shut the door. I went into my apartment and left a trail of clothes from the doorway to the bathroom. I couldn’t wait to get into the shower and scrub myself clean as the water cascaded down on me like a waterfall. In my mind, I felt like I traded in the drug game for prostituting myself. It had only been one date, but why did I feel ashamed?
    I spent almost a half hour in the shower, cleansing myself after a dirty and wild night with millionaire white boys who saw black women as exotic and sexual pleasers for their limp white dicks. We sucked and fucked them for pennies compare to most of their net worth. We were a fantasy to them, and tonight, we made all of their sexual fantasies come true. I know I sure did for Travis.
    I dropped all my cash on the bedroom dresser and stared at it for a minute. The heap of it sitting there, spilling over onto the floor, was very impressive. I worked hard to make it. I remembered what Kawanda had said to me: “Girl, use what you got to get what you want.” And I did just that, used what I had between my legs to get what I wanted, or what I needed to feed and clothe my son. I would count it again in the morning.
    The minute I climbed into my bed to sleep and dream of some alternative place to be, some slice of heaven for me, pretending I didn’t spread my legs for a dollar tonight, the sounds of the ghetto brought me back to my reality.
    Bak! Bak! Bak! Bak!
    The gunshots echoed from the streets into my bedroom window at six in the morning, a clear indication that the