No Justice No Peace
Copyright © 2016 by Penny Tawret
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in articles or reviews – without written permission from its publisher.
Rhonda “Big Boss” Skeena
The local Lola’s club and showroom was once again a sea and muddle of crowd noise, sarsaparilla drinking, and lighters in the air with excitement as we gracefully listened with widely open and content ears to the sweet melody and spot on rendition of “Do you know where your children are” from the lips of our all-time favorite pals, Mwezi Sekhmet Desoto, Leslie Thompson, and Jennifer Gisselbrecht, all from the one and only Hystericals of Albermarle Lane. Me and Lauren just sat there, munching more than willingly on the various assortments of carrot cake, tartlets and other goodies laid out on the table in front of us as our favorite lioness lead singer’s harmonic voice continued to serenade and have George, Cindy Fisher, Laurie’s adoptive sister, and all the rest of the other known faces in the crowd up fully on the pads of their feet; moving and grooving wildly to the next popular hit of “Scream” and “They don’t really care about us”. My good friend and current mate at the time, Penny Tawret; who now headed up the Hystericals group full time as their new captain since the more recent passing of Mixy Boothroyd, and a few other homies, joined us after a while of jamming a little too hard to the number of “Remember the Time” and graciously parked herself in the booth along with Lauren and I on the far side. She sighed, exhaustedly with relief as she guzzled down nearly the whole glass of half and half I offered her before she finally gathered up her usual speaking voice. “Some party, huh hon? Here on this side of Philly, Philly all of us around here sure as hell know more than a thing or two about how to get down.” “Indeed ya’ll do.” I chuckled with satisfied grin, dapping it up along with Laurie. “Where’s our good old kitty, Swifty at?” Laurie cut in, concerned. “Haven’t at all heard a thing from her ever since late last night and she didn’t really sound all that peachy.” “Laid up back at the bunkhouse; green as a leaf unfortunately.” Penny answered somberly. “Apparently them niggas back at that Tex-Mex she liked so much didn’t at all know how to make food right. Luckily, our good old girl Wendy came to have a pretty good and upstanding reputation as our crew’s natural serpent healer, so I do believe it’s more than safe to say that’s she’s in some good and decent hands.” At that moment, her cell went off the hook and she quickly fished her hand in the right pocket of jeans to answer. “Yep? Hey, how’s your stomach settling now? Good, good. What kind of other problem? What?! You shitting me! Fuck! Okay, let me call you back after I give the word to her.” “What’s up?” I asked, after she tapped the button on the screen to hang up. “Another one of pyro’s goons tryin’ to poke a bear with a stick again?” “No. Worse.” She said, gravely. “It’s Andrew. He was tryin’ to make his way here over from 30th Street station when one time rolled up on him out in the parking lot of his car, said he had drugs and a lifetime’s worth of dough; which I immediately call absolute bullshit on off the bat. Donna just told me she and Wendy saw it on the late night news report.” “Fuck.” I sighed, beginning to desperately message my temples. “He didn’t get on the hot nigga beat with em’ over it, did he?” Penny sighed, heavy heartedly. “I believe he did, because he’s over in trauma unit at Keystone med right now. They… they now have him on life support.”