So I Know it’s Real

2. Durk

Durk

T urn this into Something

“Yeah! Throw that shit back!”

“Ah, yes! Just like that, Durk! Stick that big dick in my pink pussy, baby!”

I had Barbara bent over a tattoo chair in my shop, screaming like she was about to ascend to heaven. The music beating through Eshu’s Ink competed with her praise, but her voice carried. She threw her long, salt and pepper tresses over her shoulder then clenched her walls around my dick.

I groaned. “Fuck, B. Do that again!”

“You like that, baby? You gon’ bust for me?” she quizzed, holding my meat at the entrance of her pussy until I released my seeds into the protection between us.

What started off as a quickie ended up being a fuck session that lasted thirty minutes. Barbara claimed she stopped by to drop off lunch, but she really just wanted me to drop good dick in her drawls.

“Durk, I swear to God, I will never stop fucking you.” She smiled as she fixed her hair in the mirror. “Dick so good I feel like I owe you something.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Don’t come at me like I’m a ho on the stroll.”

Her brows rose in a slow arch. “I know you’re not offended. After a year of sleeping together, you’ve made it clear you don’t want a girlfriend, and you sleep with who you want.”

“No, I’ve made it clear that you can’t be my bitch. I can’t see myself with you in the long run. Plus, you’re married.”

She snarled. “I’m separated.”

“Same thing. You’re disloyal.”

Barbara whirled around on the balls of her feet. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. If I repeat myself, I’ll just hurt your feelings twice.”

She jabbed a finger in my direction. “I don’t take your opinion seriously. You are in your late twenties, you street race like you don’t know any better, and you think everything is a joke.”

“Not everything. Just you.” I chuckled, knowing it would piss her off. “You said all that, but your seasoned ass has been on my roster for a while. If you keep talking to me crazy, I’m going to visit Silk Hills University, find your daughter, and see if she likes my sense of humor.”

All the brown in Barbara’s chubby cheeks turned into a rose red. “That’s not funny.”

“Neither are my feelings or the way you play with your position at my granny’s church. You think God only sees when you’re doing community service? Nah, he sees when you’re dishing out community cat too. Now, get out before I tell my granny and my mama you’ve been touching on me.”

Barbara gathered her things while sporting a sly smirk. “That’s another reason you can’t grow up. You’re still on the tit.”

“I’m going to be on your ass if you don’t get out of my spot. Your coochie ain’t good enough for me to entertain this conversation.”

There were a lot of things I played about, but my relationship with the women who raised me wasn’t one of them. People had a habit of taking jabs at the way I took care of my family without knowing that my granny’s prayers were the reason I was still alive. When my father died, my grandmother welcomed me, my mom, and my twin into her house in the hood. Between her and my cousins on my father’s side, there was no way I could have grown up to be a square. If anything, they taught me to be solid.

Amid Barbara sashaying to the exit, two familiar faces appeared in the doorway.

Shit.

“Barbara Floyd.” My granny looked over the top of her glasses while my twin sister, Mercy, snickered at her side. “What a surprise to see you here. A seasoned woman like yourself in a tattoo shop is unusual, especially since it’s closed for business today.”

“Right.” Barbara fingered her mane. “I just stopped by to hmm...I was in the neighborhood and remembered you asked the church to pray for Destin’s new business. I dropped off—”

“Something to eat?” Mama Jo pushed past Barbara like they weren’t both thicker than a Snickers. “It stinks in here. I hope that ain’t your pound cake, Barbara.”

“Jolene, you know my baking skills are top tier. I’ve sold more than you at the last two bake sales. Let’s not be forgetful.”

“Let’s not be loose. I’ve told you once, but I’ll tell you again. Stay away from my grandson. You’re old enough to be his mama, and he has one of those already.”

Barbara’s smug expression changed to a wide-eyed stare. “What? This was an innocent visit. I was here to do the Lord’s work.”

“Then you should’ve brought Brother Floyd with you. I should call him and see if he wants to hear about this visit .”

A sharp breath zipped passed Barbara’s teeth. “That is not necessary, Jo.”

“Neither is your presence. Have a blessed day.”

Quiet as a mouse, I scurried off to adjust the music. Then I returned to my granny standing in the middle of the floor with her lips and fists balled up.

“Where did Mercy go?” I quizzed, trying to avoid the conversation I knew was coming.

“That’s not important, Buttah!” she hollered, calling me a nickname she came up with when I was younger. “Why? Tell me why?”

I grinned as I observed the matriarch of my family in her sundress. Her skin was the identical shade of cognac as me and my sister’s. Despite her being months from seventy, her features reminded me of a Cabbage Patch Doll.

“Mama Jo, stop frowning. After the way you went in on her, I doubt she’ll be back. Where are you coming from looking so good?”

“I asked Mercy to run me to the post office and drop off some packages for our family in Mississippi.”

“Didn’t I tell you I would handle that?”

“You did, but today is your day off. We got the job done.”

“That’s not the point. I don’t like the thought of you carrying boxes and shi—stuff.”

Mercy returned from the kitchen, smacking on a cold slice of pizza. “Durk, Mama Jo is a spring chicken. Plus, the employees helped us get everything inside.”

“Yeah, all right. Next time, just wait for me. My plate ain’t ever too packed to show up for y’all. That’s what a man is supposed to do.”

A rewarding grin stretched over my granny’s face. “I swear, me and your mama raised a good man. I can’t wait until you remove the block from over your heart and give that love to a woman who will appreciate it. I can tell you now that Barbara’s old ass ain’t the one.”

“Mama Jo, that woman is fifty-five, not five hundred.”

“I said what I said, boy!”

“You also said I got a lot going on. A woman ain’t gon’ lighten the load.”

She scoffed. “She will if you pick the right one. I know you don’t have much faith since that bullshit happened with Kehlani, but I won’t go there. I came by to talk about the tattoo I want to get. Your mama is on her way to pick me up for our spa date, so we have to make it quick.”

I studied the sketch she handed me, rotating the paper from side to side. Words on paper had always been a struggle for me to comprehend, but I understood angles and textures fluently.

“Mama Jo.” I shook away the smile on my face. “I’m not putting a needle on your skin. That shit is going to hurt.”

“I know that! You didn’t ask for permission when you started marking up your body. I thank God every day you haven’t touched your face.”

I sighed. “Give me time to work on your sketch. Then I’ll get back to you.” I faced my sister. “Are you going to get a massage with the old ladies?”

“Cut it out, Buttah. You know studs don’t do all that. That’s the proper term, right? I want to be mindful since the last time I called her a dyke she almost tore her backpack to shreds.”

Unable to hold it in, my twin and I burst out laughing. Over the years, our grandma had gotten better at tolerating our lifestyles. When we were kids, she would have a fit when I stayed in the streets with The Sons of Eshu even though the founders were my cousins. As I got older, I learned her fear stemmed from her experience in living a fast life. She often said she was afraid of what losing me would do to her.

When Mama Jo announced her departure, I grabbed my elder’s purse from a chair and slipped a knot of cash into the side pocket. Any time I bought her gifts, she put them in a closet or made me return them. At one point, she refused to take money from me because she knew how I earned it. Nowadays, she preached about me stacking for my future.

Settled in my office chair, I leaned my head back and shut my eyes, but the sound of Mercy drumming on my desk with two pens caused my lids to part.

“You must be bored,” I commented. “I thought you were leaving with Granny.”

“Don’t rush me to leave, Durk. How are things going now that you’ve officially open?”

“Business is good. We’re open six days a week, and we’ve had to turn away walk-ins because there’s no availability. We’re thriving. I’ll never give niggas a reason to doubt me again.”

Eshu’s Ink was supposed to open a year ago, but issues with permits, licenses, and other formalities repeatedly pushed the grand opening back. People in the streets rejoiced at what they perceived as my downfall, but I knew better. No amount of street creditable or money could make me forget that everything happens in God’s timing.

“What else did you want, Mercy? You can’t be still, so I know there is something on your mind.”

Mercy combed her shoulder-length twists out of her face before dropping a large, black folder on my desk.

“I want you to look at my sketches again.”

“Here we go.” I caught my forehead in my hand. “Mercy, I told you—”

“Just give me a chance. You said if I want to work here, I have to study and build my portfolio. I’m doing that.”

“All right. Bring the books to Mama Jo’s house next Sunday, and we can go from there. I have something to do today.”

Her lips twisted to one side. “Promise?”

“I said we can talk about it. Damn. Sentimental ass stud.”

“Ugh. You’re so ignorant. Just because a woman prefers a pantsuit over a dress doesn’t make her a lesbian.”

“True, but eating pussy does.”

She shrugged. “I like a little of everything. Sue me.”

“For what? You don’t have no money, little one.”

“I will when you stop being an ass and hire me. I know this place is going to bring in a bag now that you have everything in motion. Eshu’s Ink may be new, but nobody can touch the experience you and your artists have.”

My heart swelled listening to my sister express herself. She wasn’t always the most forthcoming with her feelings, so I knew she meant every word.

I hated to be on some cocky shit, but no other shop was touching mine. The people closest to me suspected the two-story property would be too much space, but I made use of every inch. The top floor resembled a college game room, filled with a foosball table, vintage arcade games, and a basketball setup you would see at a carnival. I had plans to create an area for a barber, but I wasn’t in a rush.

“Since we’re talking about hiring people, when are you going to hire a permanent receptionist? You’ve been open for months, and you’ve fired three temps.” Mercy gave me a knowing look. “You’re fucking them, huh? That’s why they’re dropping like flies.”

“I only fucked one,” I admitted with a one-shoulder shrug. “Finding someone solid is at the top of my list. Mama keeps threatening to sit at the desk if I don’t get someone in here. Why don’t you take the job? You could use the bread, and it’ll keep you out of Shiloh’s basement.”

“Durk, don’t judge me.”

“No judgment. Guidance, Mercy. You’re spoiled, and as much as I would love to have you tattooing with me, that’s always been my dream, not yours.”

I hated to make my sister feel as if I was scolding her, yet despite being fraternal twins, we never had the typical relationship. At an early age, I became the man of the house, causing a shift in our lives. I wouldn’t say the change in our dynamic was for the worse, but it was different.

“Since it feels like you’re about to lecture me, I’m going to head out.” Mercy groaned and hurried to the door. “Oh, shit. I forgot to ask you. Are you still available to tattoo at private events?”

“If the minimum is worth my time, I’m down.”

“Good. I got a gig for you. It’s an industry party near Shiloh’s house, so you may know the owner.”

“Bet. Shoot him my number.”

I adjusted the music in my whip when I pulled into my parking spot at The Sons of Eshu’s clubhouse. Shiloh, Church, O’Cyrus, Loso, and Nehemiah, the original members of the car club, bought the brick building seven years ago. I had just started getting money when they purchased the property, but over the years, I put in enough work to have earned my place at the head of the table.

Most of the assigned spots were occupied, so I knew I was the last to arrive, and I would have to hear about it. Being one of the youngest in the crew, I was used to hearing them moan and groan about my moves. If they weren’t talking shit about me being associated with the wrong people, they were preaching about business. Over the years, I realized a lot of what they said held value, so I listened more than I tuned them out.

As soon as I walked into the building, the bartender we kept on payroll straightened her posture.

“Hey, Durk! I have been waiting for you to walk through the door. I have something for you.”

“I’ll pass on the drink, beautiful.”

“You’ll pass?” She repeated my words as if surprised. “In that case, is there anything else I can get for you?”

I released a two-note chuckle then openly stared at her titties. “You still won’t give me no pussy unless I take you out?”

“That should not be too much to ask. Don’t tell me you’re the type that likes to fuck big girls but not date them.”

“Tia, a woman’s size doesn’t have shit to do with how I treat her. If a pretty, plump bitch is in my bed, she’s bad enough to be on my arm,” I explained. “Truth is, if I take you out, you’ll have the time of your life, and I won’t be able to get rid of you. I’m not in the mood for a stalker.”

The excitement that once widened her eyes switched to disappointment.

“Am I supposed to think that’s funny? Everything isn’t a joke.”

“And every fuck buddy isn’t your soulmate. Stay up, Tia.”

Aside from the bar area, the building had three rooms. One we converted into a boardroom, and the other was a space we transformed into a cigar lounge. The basement had been quiet since the last time we tortured a snake, but it stayed equipped with weapons and materials that kept the squad war ready.

I stepped down the hallway at a sluggish pace, admiring the 3D wall panels and framed pieces I painted. The art ranged from animated images of black leaders to random visions in my head. Of all the pieces we kept on display, my favorite had to be O’Cyrus Dellinger’s old championship belts housed in museum-style display cases.

“Speaking of the devil!” O’Cyrus pointed in my direction when I stepped into the room, greeted by loud weed and voices.

“Speaking of that nigga!” I snarled. “Get it right.”

“Whatever. Tell these clowns a woman that sleeps with you on the first night can still be put on a pedestal.”

Ishmael, a weirdo I loved to hate, cleared his throat. “Durk is the wrong person to ask. You know he has trust issues.”

“Stop speaking on me. Remember, you’re the new kid on the block. Know your place.” I sat on a velvet couch next to my cousin, Shiloh, and grabbed a fresh pack of blunts from an end table. “Is that what this meeting is about? Turning hos into housewives?”

Church appeared from the bathroom wearing a sly smirk. “Don’t act like you have somewhere to be because the conversation makes you uncomfortable.”

“That hearing aid must be made of Vibranium,” I joked. “How did you hear me come in?”

“Shut up and answer the question, clown.”

“The answer is yes!” I groaned. “I don’t believe a woman loses value because she does what she wants. Now, if she does that shit all the time, that’s a different story.”

“If that ain’t the pot calling the kettle black...”

I looked up and grinned at Church’s fiancé, Blaze, as she walked in from the same direction he had come from. Of all the ladies connected to The Sons of Eshu, her wild ass was my favorite. If anyone understood the transition between ho to housewife, she did.

“Why is this even a topic of conversation?” Blaze quizzed. “Most women ask for a clean STD test, not a rundown of your past. We also don’t penalize you for having sex on the first night.”

I shrugged. “You can’t blame a man for wanting to know what he’s getting into. I mean that literally and figuratively.”

“Durk, be serious,” Shiloh’s wife, Stevie, muttered. “Even if you knew, you’d still sleep with her if she agrees to leave once y’all are done.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! That shit ain’t funny.”

The subject made me think of the comments Barbara and Tia made about me on separate occasions. Their opinions didn’t do shit but humor me, yet the respect I had for my loved ones made me curious about how they felt.

“Since we’re asking twenty-one questions, let me ask y’all something,” I stated. “Do y’all think I’m childish?”

In unison, all eyes shifted to different corners of the room. The silence was louder than any insult they could have said.

“Never mind. Fuck y’all,” I spat.

“I mean, you can be rambunctious.” Loso was the first to reply.

Ishmael fidgeted with the side of his glasses. “Why do you care what we think? You never have before.”

My breath rushed on a grunt. “I was fucking around with Barbara last week, and she called me childish because I threatened to go fuck her daughter.”

“Durk.” Stevie sighed. “Please, tell me you didn’t.”

“What? I was just talking shit. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Shiloh pointed at me. “And that’s the problem. What do you think is a big deal other than tattoos, women, and street racing?”

“The Sons of Eshu,” I answered without missing a beat. “I’m not like the rest of y’all. I tried to settle down. That shit was a wash.”

“Then pick better bitches,” Ishmael replied.

Shiloh abandoned his seat and roped his arm around Stevie’s neck as he settled behind her. “And you’re right. You’re not like us. You couldn’t date one woman if your life depended on it.”

“Negro, please. Anything y’all can do, I can do better.”

“You talk a good game. Put your money on your community dick.” My cousin dug into his pocket and pulled out a bankroll. “Is a stack too much?”

“It ain’t enough. I’ll bet you five bands I can find a bad bitch and treat her better than you simps ever could. Drop a deposit, so I know it’s real!”

O’Cyrus and Loso laughed as they pulled out cash and asked for side bets worth another three thousand dollars.

During our back and forth, Shiloh tossed a napkin at his brother. “You not getting in on this?”

“Hell nah.” Church grimaced. “I’m not encouraging bad behavior. You just said he needs to grow up, and now you’re betting he can’t do it?”

Shiloh tilted his head from left to right. “I mean, the wager is going to make him a man or make me some money.”

Stevie pulled out of Shiloh’s grasp. “Y'all are going to hell for this, and I will not be an accessory to heartbreak. Meet me in the boardroom when you’re ready to discuss the new program.” She peered around the room. “Ladies, are you with me?”

Stevie, Blaze, and Essen migrated out of the room, and once they were gone, Shiloh rubbed his hands together.

“All right. Let’s go over the rules before I get in trouble.” He grinned. “The guidelines are simple. Find a decent woman and date her for ninety days. Since you increased the bread, I’m going to make it harder. You can’t sleep with her until after y’all have dated for a month.”

I cringed at the thought, but I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing the rules made my skin crawl.

O’Cyrus lifted his hand, garnering our attention. “Let me add the woman can’t be someone you’ve slept with before, and if you tell her about the bet, it’s a wrap.”

Shiloh, Loso, O’Cyrus, and I sealed the deal by doing our signature handshake before we went to discuss the reason for our meeting.

By the time we made it to the room, there were already stacks of paper situated around the oakwood table. Just the sight of the forms made my throat tight. As I took a seat, I slipped a fresh toothpick from a piece of plastic and focused on Stevie.

“Stevie’s Haven has partnered with a local group home to start our own Big Brother and Sister type of program. The kids are fostered youth between the ages of seven and seventeen.”

“Damn.” O’Cyrus sucked his teeth. “I wish there were more programs like these around when I was in the system.”

“That’s exactly why we’re doing it. I believe we’ve all experienced trauma that would have been easier to deal with had there been more people like us around.”

As Stevie went over the details, my eyes latched onto the first sheet of paper. The sight of jumbled words and twisted letters caused my temples to tremble. I bit down on my toothpick to keep from growling and flipped the paper over.

Dyslexia had been a pain in my ass since I was a kid, and it continued to be an issue during adulthood. I’d like to think my learning disability birthed my sense of humor. No matter how many fights I won after someone called me dumb or stupid, there was someone else in line, ready to clown. Once I matched their energy instead of beating their ass, I got in less trouble and realized sometimes words hit harder than fists.

“Durk!” Stevie’s voice ushered me from my daydream. “I sent you a voice recording of the information in the packet. You can listen when you have some free time.”

“Spoiled ass,” Shiloh muttered before kicking me under the table.

I flipped him off. “Don’t be mad that Blue loves me.”

“I do,” Stevie replied. “And you didn’t have to pay me or bet on my compassion to receive it. Believe it or not, some women are solid and will love you for free. Anyway, does anyone have questions?”

Blaze raised her hand as if she were in class. “When are we meeting the kids?”

“It will be a while before we get to that point, but in the meantime, we have homework. A social worker I’ve been speaking with asked that each of us write five noteworthy facts about ourselves. She’s going to use the information to pair us with our little brother or little sister, so put some thought into it.”