Array Ashley - Tale of the Murda Mamas

“Where you going?”

“I’ve got to stop by the mall and pick up a phone. I answered the phone earlier this morning, and Murder kind of flipped,” I said.

“Oh, that ain’t shit. He only gives that number to people he does business with. Don’t worry about it. Even he takes his personal calls on a cell phone. Did he come at you wrong?” she asked, getting defensive.

“No, it wasn’t like that. He just let me know not to answer it. He’s good. I like him. I think he’s cool people,” I said, calming her down.

“Well, I’m chilling today. You can call me if you need me. My keys are on the table. Don’t crash my shit, Miamor! Your ass probably can’t even drive!” she said jokingly.

“Bitch, I got my L’s. I took the class in lockup for having good behavior,” I answered as I went to dress.

“You? Good behavior? I know you’re lying now,” Anisa said. “Not one scratch. Mia! I’m not playing!” she warned, her voice following me out of the room.

She knew me all too well, because there wasn’t a damn thing legal about me behind a wheel, but I was anxious to spin the block. I just wanted to get out and spread my wings.

Putting on brand new Seven jeans, red stilettos, and a white Ralph Lauren top, I dressed and applied MAC cosmetics. I admired myself in the mirror. Everything about me screamed fly, and I knew it. I was only eighteen, so yes, I was arrogant as hell and itching to get into something.

Before I could even hit the door, Anisa stopped me.

“Run them L’s, Miamor. I want to see your license before you hop in my car,” she said seriously as she sat on the floor in front of the coffee table, rolling a spliff. Murder was stretched out on the couch behind her, his hat dipped low, pistol on his waistline, and flipping the channels on the 72-inch plasma TV.

“Anisa, ain’t nobody gon’ crash your car. Stop tripping. I’m just going to the mall,” I pleaded.

“I’ll take her. I’m going that way anyway. I got to pick up a new joint for that job I’m into tonight,” Murder said as he stood.

“Fine by me, long as my shit come back in one piece,” Anisa said. “I’ll teach you how to drive later this week, and take you to handle the official paperwork. The last thing you need is to run into Jake out there with no license. You just got out. I’m just trying to keep you out, sis.”

I rolled my eyes. She could tell I had an attitude. Anisa knew she was wrong for sticking me with a babysitter, but I obliged and followed Murder out of the condo. We didn’t talk until we got to the parking lot. He tossed me her keys and gave me a smile.

“I’m driving?” I asked in surprise.

“Fuck I look like, your chauffer?” he asked smoothly as he stepped into the car. “Anisa’s your big sister. She’s overprotective. I’ma teach you how to drive.”

I was geeked and all smiles as I got into Anisa’s car. Murder leaned his seat back and put one foot on the dash. “Do you!” he said with a grin.

I turned the ignition and adjusted the seat. Anisa was a little bit taller than me. Once I was comfortable, I put the car in reverse and backed out slowly. My heart was beating out of my chest, only because Anisa’s ass had made me nervous.

“Relax, you’re good, ma. You control the car, not the other way around,” Murder reassured.

I nodded my head, took a deep breath and switched gears to drive before pulling out of the parking lot. Murder was silent as I crept down the streets of New York. Impatient drivers flew past me and I stuck up my middle finger as they drove by, causing Murder to laugh. “What?” I asked as I laughed too.

“Nothing, ma… nothing at all. Concentrate on the road. Fuck whoever’s behind you,” he said.

I put in a CD, and the sounds of R &B filled the car. The music eased some of my apprehension, and I relaxed behind the wheel, as my foot became heavier on the gas pedal. Before you knew it, I was cruising, snapping my fingers to the beat, while Murder rode shotgun, never interrupting my flow. The fact that he trusted my driving made me trust myself, and all of my fears went out of the window. I was whipping through the ‘hood like I had been doing it for years. I was on cloud nine as I listened to Keyshia Cole’s latest joint. I had never been in a relationship before, so I couldn’t relate to the lyrics in the song, but it didn’t stop my head from spinning from the feelings homegirl was screaming through the speakers. I couldn’t see myself giving my heart to anybody, but I was feeling the song as if my heart had been broken a thousand times. Before I knew it, I was pulling into the mall.

“See, it’s easy,” Murder stated. He had to be the coolest nigga I’d ever met. He was so laid back, yet his demeanor was so ‘hood. “Come on, don’t have me in this mu’fucka all day. You can hit up all the shoe shops and shit with Nis. But me and you, we in and out. Cool?”

“Okay,” I responded, but in and out became a day full of me tearing up the mall and Murder carrying my bags. I couldn’t help it. The little shopping spree that Anisa had given me the day before hadn’t quenched my thirst.

Murder wanted to complain, but he didn’t. I could tell from the look on his face that shopping wasn’t really his thing. He allowed me to shop until I grew tired, and I felt like I had a personal bodyguard with me the way he was mean mugging niggas who were trying to get at me.

“You ready to leave?” I asked. “We’ve been here all day and you haven’t bought one thing.”

He sighed and gave me a half smile. “Nah, go ahead. Get whatever you want, ma,” he said. “It’s on me.”

I was like a kid in a candy store, picking up everything that I had neglected to get when I had gone shopping with Anisa. By the time I was done, it was dark outside, and as we walked to the car, Murder asked, “You hungry?” “I could eat,” I responded.

Murder put the bags in the trunk and walked around to the driver’s side.

“I’m not driving?” I asked.

He put his hand up and I tossed him the keys. “Nah, I don’t got time to coach you through it right now, sis. I got to get to my man before his spot close. Then we’ll go grab some food. Call Anisa and see if she’s hungry.”

I called Anisa, and she declined our invitation to dinner. “I don’t feel like getting dressed. Y’all go ahead. Just bring me back something,” she said.

I agreed, and then disconnected the call with her. “She said bring her something back,” I told Murder.

I reached for the radio to turn it up, but Murder popped my CD out and tossed it in the back seat. “Driver picks the music,” he said smugly as he ruffled my hair. I slapped his hand away and laughed as he turned the radio all the way up.

“… While I’m watching every nigga watching me closely, My shit is butter…”

Jay-Z’s lyrics filled the interior, and no words were spoken, but it was a comfortable vibe between us, and the more I became acquainted with Murder, the more questions I had.

He drove until he pulled up to a pawnshop way out in Queens. I looked around the dark alley we were parked in. A chill went up and down my spine, but I shook the feeling of fear. “Get out,” he instructed. He popped the trunk and pulled out a pillowcase, then entered the building from the rear.

When we got inside, an older white man with wire rimmed glasses sat behind a counter. “Who’s the girl?” he asked immediately, causing my heart to flutter. The old man shot me a look of suspicion that had me feeling out of place.

“She’s good. I vouch for her. She’s my lil’ sister. Don’t worry about her. Let’s just handle this business, just like every other time,” Murder stated with authority.

“You always come alone,” the man insisted, still eyeing me.