West End Girls Read Online Free

Debonair and Tanqueray had over the phone. Debonair told her, “Tang, you need to come home and take care of Sinclair like Mama wanted you to, instead of always chasing that money. I’m not asking you to be Mama, just act like one . . . Fuck you too, bitch! Don’t worry ’bout my life! Hello? Hello?”
    â€œSo tell me exactly what went on in court today. I can’t believe nobody called me. I would have gone,” Unique said.
    Unique was so removed from their problems now, Sinclair thought she was lying.
    â€œOooh, look at that baby, how big she’s gotten,” Ms. Mathison called to Unique, instantly dispelling the myth Sinclair had created about Unique not being remembered or thought about in the neighborhood.
    Sinclair wondered if she would be remembered once she left to go to college. As they approached the gate of the family home that sat in the middle of the block, Sinclair thought, Nobody is gonna remember me, ’cuz I’ma go away and not look back.
    Sitting off from the more progressive neighborhoods, the Palemos had many families that still lived in this neighborhood of tract homes since its inception in the ’70s. A mispronunciation of the palomino horse, the Palemos was a small community that was part of an equestrian tract named after horses. Their house was on Appaloosa Way. This was the closest street to the next tract, Sandyville, named after beach-like themes. Apparently, it was a housing tract trend back then.
    With no more than three to six city blocks of houses and a narrow strip mall, the houses started out all quaint and of equal size, about 1,500 square feet, with fenced yards and mature, overgrown trees. Some buyers in the late ’80s, attempting to upgrade their homes, caused only strange mismatches however, with two-story glamour palaces next to cracker boxes, creating an aesthetic mess. It was a ghetto that had missed much funding and repairs, although it had not missed the increase in crime. But, all in all, the area lent itself to a homey feel and was indeed home to Sinclair. Moving to the West End had never crossed her mind.
    â€œâ€™Cuz, you know, family is important,” Unique said, her words drifting into a blur of sound, the moment going into a strange sort of vortex, a time warp that felt otherworldly.
    Sinclair sensed it. Was it just her own thoughts about her home that had her distracted, or everything else the day had brought? The moment instantly sickened her.
    The slow-moving car approached from the opposite direction. Sinclair felt it in her gut before it registered on her brain what was truly happening. She saw gold teeth flashing in her direction as the car picked up speed. Sinclair knew instantly what was going down. Shit was about to jump off.
    â€œJust a li’l reminder! I want my money, bitch!” The ugly man behind the wheel screamed before a small green ball flew from the driver’s open window.
    Sinclair’s head moved with the arc of the small ball as it went over the fence and landed on the porch of the house. Everyone froze for a millisecond, as if the world and time stood still, and for a second the ball did nothing.
    â€œNoooooo!” Sinclair screamed.
    As if all around suddenly realized that the small green ball was really a grenade, everyone ducked and ran for cover, screaming, cussing, and scurrying for protection.
    Unique grabbed Apple and disappeared behind Stewart William’s new car. He had just pulled up, no doubt, to share a lunch break with his wife and, instead of getting out, went over in the seat, disappearing from view.
    Noticing Sinclair was standing there dazed with her hands on her ears, Unique ran out and pulled her behind the car, probably thinking Sinclair was just crazy enough to dart into the yard, as if she could stop what was seconds from occurring.
    And she was right. Sinclair was crazed. Her brain had emptied of all reasonable thoughts.
    There was an ominous silence then an