From Publishers Weekly
K'wan's latest (after Eve) is a meandering trip across Harlem with plenty of pit stops for vice and violence. Yoshi is a stripper who prostitutes herself for extra cash; Rhonda is a promiscuous and abusive mother of three; Reese is a scabrous, demanding kept woman; and Billy is an attractive, sporty woman with a healthy distrust of the men who live in their Harlem 'hood. All of the women get sucked into drama involving neighborhood rappers, drug dealings, abortion, fistfights, catfights, shootings, rape, AIDS or good, old-fashioned drunkenness. There's a bevy of minor characters, each involved in intersecting subplots, though these don't so much coalesce as run their course. The most interesting story involves Paul, a man who's trying to go straight and become an artist, and who's also dating a respectable lawyer named Marlene, but things are destined to end badly. None of the characters rises above stereotype and the plotting is mechanical, but the big draw here is the electric prose, which is imbued with profane, comic lyricism. (May)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.
Book Description
Hood Rat (n.): A woman of questionable repute, one who has been known to "get around" in the 'hood.
Yoshi is young, fine, and larcenous. She lives her life playing on men's hearts as well as their pockets. She learns the hard way that all that glitters isn't gold. Billy, a former high school basketball star, is at the end of her rope with the opposite sex. To her, all men are dogs, so she secretly seeks comfort in the arms of women, until she meets a man who makes her reevaluate her feelings. Reese is an around-the-way chick, trying to keep up with the Joneses. There's a revolving door on her bedroom as she tries to find the love she always felt was missing. Her promiscuity leaves her pregnant from a one-night stand and Reese is faced with the task of breaking an age-old cycle, passed down from mother to daughter in her family, and standing on her own. Rhonda is twenty-something with three kids, by three men, and riding the system all the way to the bank. To her, work is a dirty word; between the multiple checks she gets from the government, and the games she plays with men, she's living the life of a ghetto superstar. The game soon turns ugly when one of her "sponsors" snaps and decides to get some payback.
Harlem has never seen four friends as scandalous as these. The neighborhood will never be the same again.
About the Author
K'WAN is the #1 Essence bestselling author of Welfare Wifeys, Section 8, Gutter, Still Hood, and others. He wrote his first novel, Gangsta, as a therapeutic release, and it went on to become an Essence bestseller and a part of urban-lit history. In 2008 he received the Black Author of the Year Award from Black Press Radio. He has been featured in Time, KING, The New York Press, and on MTV and BET. Besides an author, K’wan is also a motivational speaker, a mentor to at-risk children and the C.E.O. of Black Dawn, Inc. He lives in New Jersey.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Part One
I’ll Bet You Know Somebody Like This
1
That’s right, nigga, fuck this pussy!” Yoshi grunted as she threw it back. The muscles flexed in her toned arms as she gripped the semiclean bed sheets of the motel room. Her back arched and flattened with the motion of his stroke, making slapping sounds as his thighs hit her ass. The young man cursed and rained spittle on her back as he went for broke on the fine light-skinned girl. From all the noise she was making, you’d have thought he was wrecking it, but it was all a show on her part. She learned early in the game how to get into a man’s head and make him blow his wad. Two minutes later, it was a done deal.
“Damn, Yoshi. That shit was the bomb!” he huffed, flopping on his back.
She brushed a strand of her jet black hair from her forehead. “Yeah, daddy. You laid it down.”
“Yo, I was thinking,” he said as he slid a little closer to her, “maybe if you’re not doing anything Saturday, we could get together. My uncle is having a cookout and—”
“Nah, don’t think I can make it,” she cut him off.
“Well, maybe Sunday? We could go to dinner or something.”
Yoshi reached over to the nightstand and removed a Newport from the half-empty pack. She lit the cigarette and casually blew the smoke into the air. “Check this, Rel. You’re cool, but it ain’t that serious. You knew what it was before we laid down, so don’t try to make it more than that.”
Rel was glad the room was dark so she couldn’t see his facial expression. He felt like someone had cocked over and took a shit in his mouth. Rel had met Yoshi at a strip club where she danced the weekend prior. All his boys had kicked shit on her name, but he believed in giving everyone a chance. He had gone back to the club on several occasions, just to see the yellow tender, and try to get close to her. After having a few drinks and a few dollars, he decided that she was cool peoples. His man had told him not to get roped up with the fast chick from Harlem, but Rel allowed his heart to lead him. Sure, she was a stripper, but he dug her as a person. His theory was, if he could show her a different way to live, they might have a chance at building something. Now he realized that he was panning for fool’s gold.
“Damn, it’s like that?” he asked.
She blew rings into the air. “It ain’t like nothing. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“I don’t fucking believe this shit.” He angrily slid his jeans and T-shirt back on. “Here I am trying to show you love and you’re shitting on me.”
“Love ain’t got no place in my world, boo-boo. I ain’t looking for a man, Rel, just a come-up. You can leave that bread on the nightstand.”
Rel pulled some bills from his pocket and tossed them at her. “You’re a cold bitch, Yoshi. I should’ve known you can’t reform no ho!”
Using her leg, she swept the bills closer to her. “Call me what you want, nigga, but you won’t call me broke. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.”
Rel glared at her, contemplating kicking her ass and taking his money back, but figured he’d be worse off for it. When they had begun undressing, he peeped her stashing a .22 under the pillow. Clenching his jaw, he stormed out the door, slamming it so hard that one of the dime store portraits on the wall fell and broke.
Yoshi never even flinched. She took her time counting through the bills, making sure he hadn’t shortchanged her. Folding the bills and placing them in her Coach bag, Yoshi placed the bolt on the motel door and headed into the bathroom. It was only 1:45. If she hurried, she could make it back to the club in time to catch another trick. Time was money.
Reese stood on the corner of 135th and Fifth Avenue, tapping her foot impatiently. She was five foot four, with brown skin and hair that stopped just below her earlobes. Reese had a nice ass and healthy breasts, but her face wasn’t all that. She wasn’t an ugly girl, but lost points for her wide nose and crooked teeth. Word on the streets was what she lacked in looks she made up for in skills. Reese had the reputation of being a head specialist.
Glancing at her watch, she noted that she had been standing there for almost a half hour, twenty-five minutes longer than she should have. Her boo told her that he would be there and once again he pulled the bullshit. You’d have thought that as much as he did it she’d be used to it by now. She decided that if he didn’t arrive within the next five minutes she was leaving.
No sooner than Reese had the thought, a silver Benz pulled up to the curb. The car’s tints were so heavy that the onlookers were probably not only wondering who was in the car, but how they were able to even see out the window. Reese pushed the ill thoughts she had had a few seconds prior out of her head and hopped in.
“Hey, baby.” He kissed her on the cheek, scratching her with his beard. Teddy was a heavyset cat with cocoa-colored skin and pearl white teeth. He was a working-class dude in his early forties who had taken to messing with girls half his age to feel like he was still in the loop. Most bitches only dealt with him because he was a trick, but Reese actually liked him.
“Ted, you know how long you had me out here waiting?” She clicked her gum.
“Stop acting like that, you know I be in the mix.” He waved her off.
“So fucking what, you still could’ve called my cell phone!” she barked, holding up the Motorola he had bought her the month before.
“Look, I just had to go through some shit with Penny and I really ain’t in the mood to hear it from you,” he told her.
Reese slit her eyes at him. “I should’ve known.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I’m about tired of her cutting into my time. Every time I turn around you’re late or pulling no-shows because you had something to do for her.”
Teddy ran his hands across the top of his waved-up fade, as he often did when he was frustrated. “Reese, don’t start this shit. You already know what it is.”
“Yeah, I know what it is and I’m about sick of it,” she said. “Why the fuck do I always have to take a backseat to that bitch?”
“Ain’t no need to be slinging names, ma. You need to hold your head.”
“Hold my head?” she asked as if the statement was offensive. “Teddy, how long have I been holding my head? This shit is getting tired.”
“Reese, what do you want me to do? Penny is my wife.”
“And I’m supposed to be your girl!” she snapped. “How long have you been promising me that you were gonna leave her?”
“It ain’t that easy, ma. I can’t just go home and say, ‘Penny, I’ve fallen in love with someone else. It’s over.’”
“Why not, Teddy? You claim you love me, so why do I have to keep waiting around for you to tell this bitch what the real deal is?” Reese had been seeing Teddy for a little over four months. At first she didn’t know he was married, but by the time she found out, she was already hopelessly in love with the man. When she confronted him, he fed her a story about how the marriage was already on the rocks and how he was about to file for a divorce from his wife of ten years. Though her brain screamed he was a fat fucking liar, and she should cut him loose, her heart vetoed it. Teddy had his fucked-up ways about him, but for the most part he was good to Reese. He spent money on her and made her feel beautiful. Though in her heart she knew there was more to love than that, it was enough for the moment.
“Reese, a situation like this requires tact. Penny is an emotional woman. If I break it to her like that, there ain’t no telling what she might do. I’d feel like shit if I found out she killed herself ’cause I left her,” he said, flattering himself. “I promise, baby.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Just give me a little more time and it’ll just be me and you.”
“Whatever,” Reese said, pouting like a child.
For the next five minutes they drove in silence. Teddy fumbled with the radio while Reese busied herself looking out the window, watching the blur of faces. When they reached 125th Street, Teddy made a right instead of busting a left to head to the east side.
“Teddy, where are you going? Madison Avenue is the other way,” Reese pointed out.
Teddy kept his eyes directly in front of him as he navigated through the busy traffic and turned left on Seventh Avenue. “I know, boo, but I gotta stop by the spot right quick.”
“Come on, Teddy, I wanna get to the store before they run out of my size in those new Dior shoes.”
Teddy pulled in front of a building on 124th and Seventh and parked the car. “Baby, them shoes ain’t going nowhere. Big daddy got you.” Without giving her a chance to protest, he hopped out and began walking toward the building.
On the third floor, Teddy led her into what he liked to call his Honeycomb Hideout. It was a sparsely furnished studio apartment that he kept in Harlem, unbeknownst to his wife. Reese had been there a few times, but he kept her visits limited and woul...
