The Autobiography of Commie Lee Speed
As told to Diallo Tyson
“Dude, I gotta go.”
“I told you—we ain’t stoppin’ until we get back to campus.”
“Dude! Fuck it. Hey Mike, open the door.”
“I gotta piss, so either open the door or take off your shoes.”
So the night just got weirder and weirder. It must’ve been some sight. A white van driving down the highway, doing eighty, with the door open, and a drunk-ass college student pissing across the wind. Who knows how many windshields were addressed with Hennesy-induced urine? Who cared? I know I didn’t. I was glad my damn bladder didn’t explode inside me. I was also trying to make sense of the night and figure out where to go from there.
* * *
Now, I have to warn you. If you’re offended by the words nigga, bitch, ho, fuck, pussy, cocksucking motherfucker, and sonofabitch bastard I suggest you stop reading and go pick up Harry Potter. This is my life, so what do you expect? I’m about to give you the lowdown on how my life changed. From this point on, the shit gets real interesting.
* * *
Two years before my freshman year at Morehouse, the Greek life for all intents and purposes was killed. The Kappas got kicked off campus because several entrepreneurial brothers decided to start a credit card scam. They had a brother who worked in Gloster Hall, the admin building, who could get at people’s personal information. They used other people’s identities to apply for credit cards and ended up defrauding various institutions out of about half a mil. Needless to say, when administration got wind of this punishment was swift and exacting. The Alphas really fucked up, because they killed a dude. I don’t mean a pledge died during hazing. I mean three brothers straight stomped a nigga from Morris Brown to death. It damn near touched off a riot. Once again, swift and exacting punishment. Those unfortunate incidents meant only the Sigmas and Ques were left on campus… and they weren’t about shit.
After seeing School Daze, I couldn’t wait to get to college and experience Greek life. But when I learned what happened, I was hurt for a minute. That is until I met Chris Watts. Chris and I were roommates as freshman, not to mention kindred spirits. When we both arrived, we noticed that we had the same iron, same detergent, same shampoo, and the same birthday. His favorite pro basketball team was the Lakers, and so was mine. We got so close that we started calling ourselves the wonder twins. Because we thought alike, we could tell the other was missing something out of college life, without even saying it. Yeah, we checked out the Sigmas and them motherfuckers are whack, plain and simple. They couldn’t pull any hos and their parties blew. The Ques were just weak. There were only like eight total on campus. One day we decided to take matters into our own hands.
* * *
“Fuck going through the administration. Right now, if we wanted to throw a party all we’d have to do is apply for it. It don’t matter if it’s a group or an individual.”
“Yeah, but legally—” I said.
“Fuck legal. It’s about having fun—bringing some life to this campus. But mainly it’s about fucking top notch bitches.” Chris countered.
“Yeah. Top notch bitches will be a perk.”
“So you ready to do this?” Chris asked.
* * *
And so it was. We decided to start our own fraternity. Now don’t let Chris’ hyperbole fool you. We wanted to uphold some of the traditions of giving that other fraternities held. We believed in community service, tutoring, mentoring, and raising money for charity. During the week, we were about business, but on the weekends, it was freak central.
We decided early on not to include Greek letters in our name. We were gonna be different. Some punk-ass nigga snitched us out to the administration. They put pressure on us to apply for status as an official club. So we had to pick a name that would ingratiate our selves to them. We chose O.B.B.A., which officially stood for Only Battle-tested Brothers Allowed. The administration liked that, had a warrior’s mentality kind of ring to it. They got off on that shit. What they didn’t know was O.B.B.A. really stood for Only Bad Bitches Allowed.
That was what we were about on the weekends. We had strict criteria for letting chicks into our parties. Pure and simply, they had to be 8 and above. Didn’t matter what color or race they were, just as long as they were gorgeous. Chris’ dad was a Vice-President at American Express, so he had access to some cash. Our parties were better than going to a club. Chris made sure of that. So chicks from every college in Atlanta were dying to get in. Guys knew the clientele of our parties, so they’d do anything to get in. They offered money, drugs, favors, girlfriends, etc. It was beautiful. We were the most powerful guys on campus. In a year, membership grew to fifteen brothers. By my senior year, we were thirty-two strong. We were even mulling over plans to expand to colleges in other cities. Life was good. Then life got strange.
* * *
Five young sophomores sat at attention. They were a little nervous, not sure what they were getting themselves into. Chris stood in front of them giving them their individual assignments. We didn’t believe in hazing. I thought it was stupid and really didn’t say anything about the person. Anybody can take twenty licks and then sit in a bed of salt. Did that make you worthy? No, we did things a little differently. Each pledge had to complete a schedule of tasks.
“Both Nikita and I will accompany each and every one of you as you complete your missions. That way we know if you’re the real deal or just some cocksucking motherfucker trying to dilute the ranks. So, you have your assignments. I suggest you start getting your mind right. Now, leave.” Chris said as the youngsters slowly rose out of their chairs.
“Except for you Mr. Gavin.” I said.
“Me?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, stay put.” We just stood there and looked at him until everyone cleared out.
“You’re mission starts tonight. Nikita and I will take you around the city.”
“You scared, boy?” I asked.
“No, of course not.”
“Well, I suggest you tighten up your panties and let your nuts hang. Tonight’s make or break.” Chris said.
“Trust me. I’mma be straight tonight.” Mike said as he left the room.
* * *
Our status was pretty much unmatched on campus. We had it both ways. We did more community service than United Way. Over three years, we raised over a quarter-million dollars and tutored and mentored over 500 kids. The administration loved us for it. Some in the administration loved our parties as well. They gave us the occasional favor for letting them in. Consequently, we had entree into almost every department on campus.
* * *
“Damn, nigga what happened to you?” I asked. He had a nasty looking cut on his lip and a swollen jaw.
“Got my asked kicked. What it look like?” OH-10 replied.
“The fuck happened?” I asked.
“I had to take my sister to the airport this morning. Sam wanted to ride to. So we sent her off and on the way out the terminal both of us had to take a piss. So we go in there, and after we finished, this big albino dude walks in. This nigga is white as a sheet, so we start fucking with him. He a big motherfucker, but we figured he ain’t go’n do shit in a public place. Man, this dude walks over punches Sam then kicks him, then kicks me. I don’t know what happened after that.”
“Damn, be the last time you fuck with an albino.”
“Fuckin’ right. Anyway, so I guess you need a van, huh Nikita?” OH-10 said. OH-10, Oswald Harvey, work studied at the maintenance building. They had two trucks and two vans at their disposal. Chris and I were able to secure keys whenever we wanted to.
“Yes sir.” I replied. OH-10 stepped away from the counter and went into the back. A couple moments he came back with the keys.
“Space number 3A. Oh and Nikita, try to fill this mug up this time.”
* * *
Young Mr. Gavin’s mission was to get five top-notch cuties to get into the van and come back with us for a party we were having. It didn’t matter how he got them in, as long as they got in and went to the party. Really, only one of us needed to accompany him but neither of us wanted to pass up the experience. Whenever we did this, things got real interesting. One time a pledge pulled out a fake gun and told a chick to get in. Needless to say, we had to cut him loose.
* * *
It was around 8 when we picked up Mike. He had two hours to complete his task.
“So, where to?” Chris asked.
“Ahh, I thought—”
“Hey, this is your show. We’re just driving the van. You drive the exercise.” I said.
“OK, let’s start down Peachtree.” Mike said.
“As good a place as any.” Chris said. So we got rollin’. Chris drove, with Mike in the passenger seat. I hung out in the back. Mike looked a little nervous, yet determined. I liked that about him. He wasn’t the most confident, but ultimately he wouldn’t let you down.
“I’m just tired of black and white chicks. I need to get up on some new hos.”
“Hispanic?” Chris asked.
“Naw. How about half Puerto Rican and half Italian?” I said.
“I’d definitely buy that for a dollar.” Chris said.
“My first girlfriend was Indian.” Mike said.
“Red dot or feather?” I asked.
“Red dot. She kind of looked like Paula Abdul. We tried some—hey turn around I saw a girl.” Mike said. Chris circled around the block and we came up on her. She was a cute little chick, standing at the bus stop wearing a mini-skirt.
“Showtime.” I said.
“Excuse me miss. Can I have a moment of your time?” Mike said. The respectfully cordial approach. Not a bad way to start off. The girl thought so to, because she walked up to the window.
“Can you guys give me a ride?” she asked. That kind of caught all three of us off guard.
“I’m already late. I’m supposed to be at this party by now.” Mike looked at Chris for direction.
“It’s your show. You call it.”
“Please. Please, please, please.”
“You say you’re going to a party?” Mike said.
“You know some of the girls gonna be there?”
“They look as good as you?”
“Shit. Hop on in. What’s your name?”
“Stasia.” She said as I slid open the door. She hopped in and we were off.
“Stasia, this is Chris driving and that’s Nikita back there with you.”
“Nikita. Are you Russian?”
“I don’t have to rush.” I replied. Stasia cracked a sly grin.
“Is that so?”
“So where are we going?” Mike asked.
“1469 Emerson St.. It’s right off of Fulton Industrial.” she replied without taking her eyes off me.
* * *
Stasia and I talked the whole way to the party. At first I wasn’t sweatin’ this chick but then I started telling her about the frat. Her eyes got as big as saucers. I don’t know why I was telling her, it’s not something I shout from the mountaintop. We kind of ran a clandestine operation. Anyway, the more I talked the closer she leaned into me. This chick obviously dug power.
* * *
“You got an hour and a half Mr. Gavin. Time to get to work.” Chris said.
“Let’s do it.” Mike replied. With that, we exited the van. The house was pretty big. Not big mansion-wise, but still pretty big.
As soon as we stepped in, we were in another world. Girls were everywhere! Incredible looking chicks of all races wearing next to nothing. They were either walking around or cozied up next to some nigga in a clean suit. Music was blasting. Everyone was in the midst of great conversation. Couples were making out. We were definitely out of place, but nobody paid attention to us. They were in their own little world. All of a sudden, this one cute little Asian chick walked passed me, giving me the “suck you dry” eye.
“I think I’m gonna mingle.” I said. Before I got mingle out of my mouth, Stasia grabbed me by the neck and planted a wet one on me.
“We haven’t finished talking yet.” Stasia said.
“Guess not. You’re on your own fellas.” Stasia took me by the hand and led me to the bar. We got a bottle of Hennesy for free, and two glasses. We then headed for a place to sit. I’m still not sure what Mike and Chris did next. They never told me. Anyway, we find a little love seat and plopped down on it. I poured a glass of the Hennesy and guzzled it.
“So what do you want to talk about?”
“So you say people will do anything to get into these parties, huh?”
“Yeah. Niggas let us borrow their cars, give us money, let us use their houses, all kinds of shit.” I said as I poured another shot. Free Hennesy is hard to pass up.
“You don’t sell drugs in these parties?”
“Naw, nothing like that. We just have the absolute best looking women in Atlanta there. We don’t just let any old guy in there either. So if you want to get into the place to be, you come up off something.”
“How do you get these women? “
“Word of mouth sometimes. Sometimes we recruit them. Just drive around the city and pick them up.”
“Huh, so even rich guys do favors?”
“They’re the biggest ones. Shit, these parties are kind of too big now. We don’t even get that many college students.” I said as I poured another.
“You don’t say.”
* * *
The Hennesy was talking to me, so I didn’t understand at the time how Stasia was coming at me. She kept talking and asking questions and I guess I kept answering. When I’m drunk I go through three stages. First I get sleepy and lethargic, then I get belligerent, and then I get lucid. I was still in Phase I when Chris and Mike came over.
“Are you faded?” Chris said.
“Hennesy.” I said as I held up the bottle.
“I see.” Chris said.
“Let’s get out of here. I can’t get any of these chicks to come with us. They’re all wrapped up in these other dudes.”
“I can call a few of my friends.” Stasia said.
“Can you? Oh is that in the rules?” Mike asked.
“Five girls need to get in the van, how is up to you.” Chris said.
“Great. Stasia, call some of your girls.”
“We need to go to my hotel.”
“Where’s your hotel?” Mike asked.
“Just up the road. C’mon let’s go. Help your boy up.” Stasia said. Mike and Chris each grabbed an arm and lifted me up. I was still in Phase I. As soon as we turned to leave, we ran into Father Moses. Father Moses was tall and slim. He leaned to the side as he stood and talked in a singsong like manner. His fingernails were long and better manicured than Stasia’s. I was slipping into Phase II.
“Bitch, didn’t I tell you not to bring yo ass here! ” he said as he grabbed her arm.
“Hold up nigga! Who the fuck you talkin’ to? You better put some respect in your voice.” I bellowed.
“Listen, li’l nigga. I own this bitch. Understand? She don’t walk away from me, until I say. I told this bitch she ain’t go’n be coming to no ho draft. Ain’t no muthufucka pimp gonna take this pussy away from me. Definitely not a runty square-ass wet behind the ear mu’fucka like you.”
Keep in mind that I was still holding the bottle of Hennesy. It was starting to get real heavy in my hand.
“You don’t have no papers on me. I choose Nikita. Not you. So move, nigga, get out the way.” Stasia said. Chris and Mike were kind of frozen in their shoes, waiting to see what I was gonna do.
“Fuck this li’l—”
Then the bottle came crashing down on his head. He fell to the ground with a loud thump. Surprisingly, this didn’t cause a big stir in the “party.” Everyone was still doing their thing. Chris and Mike grabbed me by the arm and we got the fuck out of there, with Stasia in tow. I detected a smile on her face as we exited.
“You’re a hooker?” I said as we climbed into the van.
“Damn, you fucking crazy.” Chris said as he peeled out
“Yeah, I am.” Stasia said.
“I guess I still need five girls?” Mike asked.
“Shit—yeah. I guess the night can’t get any crazier.”
“Where’ s your hotel?” Mike asked.
“Make a left right here, then go through three lights and make a right.”
“That ‘s your pimp?” I asked as things started to make sense. Thinking clearly, I realized we had just walked in and out of a ho draft.
“Was my pimp. As you heard, I chose you.”
“I’m not a pimp.”
“In some ways you are. You basically hook guys up with women in return for favors. You just need to take it to the next level.” I knew I wasn’t drunk anymore, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse for her statements making sense. She did kind of have a point.
* * *
The hotel was your basic run of the mill fleabag. When we pulled up, there were some guys standing around outside. I should’ve paid more attention, but I was thinking about what Stasia was telling me. In some ways, Chris and I were pimps. We had access to the baddest chicks. We had power. Hell, pussy sells and there was money to be made.
“What are you thinking about?” Stasia said as she dialed a number on the phone. I sat on the bed next to her, while Chris and Mike sat at the table.
“Just running through some ideas in my head.”
“Well, I have—” Stasia started to say but suddenly dropped the phone and jumped on my neck knocking me off the bed. Immediately afterward a flurry of gunshots exploded in the air. Several bullets came through the room, shattering mirrors and lamps. However, the action seemed to be taking place in adjacent rooms. Chris and Mike almost jumped through the floor.
“I saw a guy with a gun through the window.” Stasia said, anticipating my question. “There’s a window in the bathroom.”
“OK.” We crawled army style to the bathroom and proceeded to throw our assess out of the window. When we ran around the complex to the van, we were greeted with the sight of a guy being shot several times as he tried to leave a hotel room. Mike, Stasia, and I leaped into the back of the van as Chris cranked up the ignition. He then sped off like Evel Knievel on uppers.
“Holy fucking shit, that was intense!” Mike exclaimed.
“Thanks babe.” I said and gave Stasia a big kiss.
“We ain’t stoppin’ til we get back to campus!”
* * *
After draining my bladder, I had an epiphany. I talked to Chris and he was all for it. We thought about the money we could make and kicked ourselves for not thinking of it sooner. We had primo connections and could get to all classes of clientele. If it wasn’t for Stasia, we probably wouldn’t have taken it to the next level. The next morning we started to work on a plan. We decided to get Stasia out of the game and give her an executive role. It was her idea after all. We decided to bring Mike in on this operation as well, since it was his eye that caught Stasia. Of course we kept O.B.B.A. going strong, but Chris and I had bigger fish to fry… like becoming the most successful pimps in the history of the world.
I think we did OK.