Sister Souljah: Life After Death

“Y’all some stupid bitches,” Asia screamed.

“Why?” Simone asked, laughing in a greasy way. “ ’Cause Winter bought you a couch and fixed up this little dump?” Simone said as she put herself back together from the brawl and was dusting off her shoulders as though to say and show them that she wasn’t even hurt, fazed, or impacted from their little rumble. She then opened up the Cîroc and started gulping it, a fourth of it spilling out on her face and her trying to catch it and lick it up with her tongue.

“Winter bought the couch and the bottle you drinking from and your ass is drunk! I fixed up the rest of my house myself with my paper,” Asia said, but she was lying. She don’t have no real paper yet. She was just about to come up when I got released and would put her on.

“Y’all was so busy kissing Winter’s ass,” Simone spit. “Y’all was so happy she put y’all on and was about to get you paid a little paper…” Simone burped then farted.

“So was you!” Natalie said.

“Y’all was so stupid y’all forgot to ask how much was Winter getting for the show?” Simone grimaced.

“I asked her,” Natalie said swiftly.

“And?” Simone quick replied. As I looked around the room, I could see that Simone’s question caught Reese and Toshi’s attention and changed the expressions on their faces from fury to suspicion.

“Winter said she couldn’t discuss how much she was getting because she had to sign a confidentiality agreement with the television production company and had to promise not to discuss the deal details,” Natalie answered like a street lawyer.

“Slick bitch,” Simone said.

“True dat is kind’ve slick,” my girl Zakia said. She had been standing quietly in the same corner where the light switch was located, watching everything going down, smoking a blunt. Zakia was like that from being locked up with the rest of us. Hers was the shortest bid but her nerves got wrecked from just putting in a little time and a little work on the inside. She used to stand around silent same like she was now, when she was locked. She’d pay anybody selling, any amount, for even a fifth of a cigarette, smoked all of the time and said next to nothing. But we held her down anyway ’cause she was our home girl.

“It’s Winter’s sister’s husband who got Winter the deal in the first place. So why she had to sign a no-talk agreement with her own brother-in-law?” Reese stated.

“Because that’s how Winter gets down,” Simone rushed and answered, cutting Natalie off. “She does the least and gets the most. Y’all gotta remember! Winter got me arrested the first time for stealing a dress she wanted . A dress she planned to put on her back and pretend that she paid full price for it herself. Then I got arrested for slicing her face. More than y’all, I did real time. She deserved to get cut but I should’ve really murdered her in the street, right then and there. She killed my daughter!”

“She did not!” Natalie scolded. “Your big pregnant ass chased Winter and fell down the steps and lost the baby. Back then I told you to stay home and let us handle Winter. You should’ve listened.”

“That’s what happened. I was there,” Reese confirmed.

“That…” Asia screamed, “was fifteen! Years! Ago!” She said each word with space in between and mad emphasis. “Y’all old bitches better upgrade and update! What we gon’ do now?”

“You the same age as us,” Zakia’s nervous one-liner bombed Asia. Then she just stared off, not even looking at the rest of the girls in the room.

“Y’all better wise up. Winter be lying all da time. ’Member how she used to gas us on lock-up about how that nigga Midnight was gonna pick her up on her release date pushing a half-million-dollar whip?” Simone said. My girls all started laughing. Somehow what Simone had mentioned wiped out the tension between them. But I was slowly heating, headed towards furious. I hate when anybody talks shit about something they don’t really know and had no way of finding out what really happened in certain situations. I hate the way people talk shit either after somebody got locked up and ain’t around to say it how it really was. I hate how people would go hard against someone who if they was standing right their in the face, they wouldn’t dare to even look at too long or ever say shit to. Same way I hate how people talk shit about anybody after they was dead and gone and can’t clap back. All that is sucker moves. Only suckers move and do that way.

“The show must go on,” Simone said in her low, manly voice. “ ‘Life After Death,’ ” like B.I.G. said. And dead entertainers sell more merchandise than living entertainers ever did, like B.I.G. did. Bet y’all didn’t know that! Winter wanted to be the star. So she got murdered on camera, a dramatic debut.” Simone waved her arms in the air, still holding the Cîroc. “You think any of these showbiz niggas, whether they Winter’s brother-in-law or not, gonna delete that footage of that murder? Hell no, they gonna let it roll, air it, sweep the ratings, collect and count the cheddar and continue to show the show!” Simone bragged.

“And how long before they figure out it was you who pulled the trigger?” Natalie said, and she was pissy.

“They ain’t gon’ find out. And y’all ain’t gonna tell ’em. That’s why I don’t give a fuck talking about it. Y’all need me. And y’all need the show. And everybody know in hip-hop the real making-moves murderers, the shooters, get the shine.”

Back to black, I thought Zakia was messing with the lights again, but she wasn’t. I had turned back into being nothing but a blob of heat, numb limbs and all. Couldn’t see no more or feel my face and I was back to being blind, deaf, and dumb.

4.

I’m not no fucking firefighter. So I do not know how to put out the raging fire that is me. I don’t know how long it would take, or how much water is needed to cool me off. I don’t have no fire extinguisher. Besides even if I did, would I use it on myself? Plus I can’t figure out this dead shit. I’m used to being able to figure out any situation no matter how complicated it is. Now I’m thinking, Since I’m dead, shouldn’t my mind shut off? How come I could still know my own thoughts?

Afterwhile, I figured out that the angrier I get, the worse the impact is on me. The only reason I reached this conclusion is because I thought about how I never ever in my lifetime was that angry bitch . I never had a reason to be dat. I was always calm and cool and cold and steady. Even when shit was fucked up, I knew how to flip shit in my favor. Even on lock I flipped everything and everyone in my favor. If any chick was mad at me, even if it was for a good reason, the next step was for that bitch to get glad because I had a crew she couldn’t resist. That crew started out with just me, and believe it or not, became me and Simone.

Yeah, the same Simone who cut my face with the jagged edge of a broken bottle, giving me the only scar I ever got in my young royal life, that could only be concealed by my silky hair if I wore it loose, which on lock I could not do. I hated Simone for impacting my flawless face. She hated me too. But in prison math, we were both better off using our mutual hatred together against others who probably hated us both more. So we did. We got on some beauty-and-the-beast-type shit breaking bitches down. My look, still stellar even with the scar, made them want to serve me or join me. Simone’s beasting made them have no other option. So they gave in and got glad and ganged up beneath us. But I don’t want to think about Simone. I just did and it caused my heat to flare up ’bout six notches. I was figuring out that when my heat peaks, I dissolve. When I dissolve, I disappear from whatever I was seeing, hearing, and feeling. But my thinking continues on. Who wants to be a glob of heat with thoughts, trapped in an infinite black space? Not me. So I figured I had to lower my temperature by thinking of anything that could make me feel good. Feeling good would be the opposite of feeling bad and then my anger might go away and the feeling in my face, arms, hands, legs, feet, and even my toes would return.