A Gangsta's Bitch 1 by Leo Sullivan & Tina Nance

Author:Leo Sullivan & Tina Nance [Sullivan, Leo & Nance, Tina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Urban Life, United States, African American, Urban
ISBN: 1494253062
Amazon: B008VF567I
Publisher: Sullivan Publications, LLC
Published: 2012-08-08T04:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Rasheed Smith

A bright moon held Rasheed’s spirit captive as he stared up at the sky. A lone star in the galaxy sparkled. In the distance a cat screamed and a door slammed. Across the street, an old Marvin Gaye tune blared from one of the neighbor’s houses, “What’s Goin’On?”

As Rasheed stared up at the celestial heavens, a full moon stared back at him with a sly grin. It was 4:47 a.m. He sat on his grandma’s front porch. The old decrepit house was the only home he had ever known. The house was so old that when anyone stepped on the porch, a slight noise would be heard inside the house, a poor man’s burglar alarm, always causing Grandma Hattie to wake from a sound sleep.

Rasheed fanned mosquitoes absent-mindedly as he was lost in his thoughts, thoughts that barged their way into his twenty-two-year-old mind. Monique dancing nude, parading her body for other men to see. All for the love of money. “Damn!”

He thought about his future. What if he didn’t get drafted into the pros? His prospects didn’t look too bright then. He was a convicted felon. He worried about his son, his needs, life’s basic necessities, school clothes and education.

“Shit!” Rasheed cursed as he raked his fingers through his curly hair.

He looked up to see a dope fiend walking down the sidewalk doing a reconnaissance mission through the neighborhood, looking for something to steal. Rasheed recognized the man as Tyson Harmon. He lived a few blocks away. He and Rasheed played ball against each other. Tyson was a better athlete than Rasheed at one time. That was until he started hanging with the wrong crew.

Just then, in the opposite direction, Rasheed looked up to see headlights approaching. It was Monique’s car, a late model Honda. The brakes squeaked as she pulled into the yard. One of her headlights was dim. Rasheed sat in the darkness as he watched her, a girl he had loved since she was fourteen years old. As she got out of the car, he watched her bounce up the walkway on the ball of her toes. Monique Cheeks was born to be a dancer. She even walked like a dancer. He fought to contain his breathing as he realized he didn’t know what to say or even where to start.

“Mo,” he whispered, softly saying her name, careful not to startle her as he stood.

She stutter-stepped, surprised. “Baby, what you doing out here?”

For some reason her words seemed to stir his emotions as the incandescent moon’s glow shimmered off her shiny black hair and delicate features, causing her silhouette to appear like an enigma in his mind. He needed to see her face up close, touch her, and feel her, his woman.

“I couldn’t sleep … had a lot on my mind,” he said, answering her question.

Instantly, she recognized that his voice was filled with hurt. Her heart sunk in her chest as she watched him sit back down. She walked up to him and stood

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