“Man, Mimi doin’ her,” Fila added. “She out there.”
For once in her life Netta didn’t have too much to say about Mimi. She merely shook her head in disbelief, but behind that smile lay a totally different emotion, disgust. Her thoughts began to race. She remembered the countless times that she tried to school each member of the Pussy Pound. Sometimes she did it through hypothetical discussions. Sometimes allowing them to eavesdrop on her phone conversations that she had with a particular hustler, just so they could see for themselves just how she played them.
“Like Rasheeda said, the streets can tell you better than we can,” Fila told her. “You’ll see.”
Netta was disgusted. Her emotions were hard to hide while her thoughts began to race.
“I swear, I ain’t ever goin’ out like that. I’d rather die first than be a dope fiend,” she said.
Netta spoke with conviction, always giving her clique the best advice that she could. She had no compassion or sympathy for a dope fiend or any kind of drug addict for that matter. Her childhood had been marred by her mother’s drug abuse.
In light of her current situation and Mimi’s drug habit, Netta was beginning to rethink this whole Pussy Pound situation. Maybe she never should have been a part of it in the first place, quickly becoming it’s leader. Was it possible that she had corrupted them? Thus she had to take the blame for whatever happened thereafter. Netta’s prolonged stay in the hospital had caused her to experience a feeling very foreign to her...regret.
Quickly, Netta shook off that thought. She reminded herself that the Pussy Pound was never naïve or innocent to begin with. However, maybe she should have let someone else take the reins. She had been instrumental in making their lives so comfortable, their hustle so easy, while hers had been anything but.
Once upon a time ago, Netta felt like she was giving them too much game. She had to check Mimi hard when she had gotten beside herself.
“I taught you everything you know, not everything I know,” Netta once told her.
In her bitterness she reminded herself that she should have known better, especially about Mimi. Their friendship had blinded Netta to her faults and weaknesses. She couldn’t make Mimi be her friend, especially now in her time of need. Netta knew things not given freely like love, then loyalty was never worth having, especially from a so-called friend.
Netta hated to admit it, but maybe they were wrong for each other from the start, her, Mimi and the entire Pussy Pound. Maybe they weren’t built for the game like she was. It took a certain type of bitch to succeed at this shit, one who was heartless and ruthless. Netta had embodied those two traits while the other members of the Pussy Pound only pretended that they had it.
Netta was coming to the slow realization that these chicks weren’t built for this type of hustle. They were all fair-weather friends who loved her for who they thought she was.
Right then and there, Netta decided to fall back and let the Pussy Pound do them.
“We can’t wait til you get the fuck up outta this hospital, it’s gonna be on……” Petey said, eagerly anticipating Netta’s release from the hospital.
Netta thought, I’m not fuckin’ around no more. You bitches can do whatever y’all like. I’m done!
Black had given her a real reason to change her lifestyle. It’s funny how a brush with death can change one’s perspective on life.
Netta sat in the bed and faked a smile. She knew her immediate future didn’t involve any member of the Pussy Pound. She didn’t long to be in their presence as she once had. She didn’t crave being the center of attention, the center of their universe. She was going about her business without them and hoped that they would do likewise.
Now, the Pussy Pound was old news to her. She was putting them and every other bad experience she had in the streets behind her. That life she was living was pointless. Those material things that she attained were now worthless.
An hour after they had gone, Tone returned to the hospital. He sat next to her on the edge of the bed. Netta wondered if now would be a good time to bring up what she had been thinking. She needed some clarity on a subject. Netta was developing feelings for Tone. Now that she knew the truth, who was she to downplay her emotions; she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t acknowledge them.
Tone had come into her life and made an immediate impact on her. She felt a deep sense of gratitude toward him for everything he had done, including saving her life. Still, she was unsure on where they stood. Was this thing that they were doing going to lead to a relationship? They were beginning to spend a great deal of time together. Before things went any further, Netta needed to know.
“Tone, I been wonderin’…..” she began, “….I fucks wit’ you. You definitely my type. But I need to know what we doin’. We gone be together? Or is you just comin’ up here everyday cause you feel sorry for me?”
“Nah Netta, it ain’t like that,” Tone explained. “You already know I fuck wit’ you. But if you need me to make dis shit official, then the answer is yeah, we together.”
If Netta was who Tone wanted to be with, then she wanted to be with him. She knew if her feelings weren’t genuinely reciprocated, then she wouldn’t force the issue. She just needed to feel like she really mattered to him.
Netta answered, “I don’t know what ya situation is, but I can only imagine that you got somebody or somebodies. You can’t tell me otherwise. So what I’m tellin’ you is, take care of whatever it is you gotta take care of. I ain’t tryin’ to be a part of no love triangle. I
