Chevy
Chevy
There is power in the pussy.
All pussy—not just mine, all of ours.
I tell you, if those boys on Wall Street would take pussy public and trade it on the OTC board, it would blow pork bellies, gold, and everything else right out of the water!
Well, that’s my Chevy-osophy, anyway.
My name is Chevanese…but most poor people can’t pronounce that, so I just tell them to call me Chevy. Like the car—only think of me as a Mercedes coupe!
I’m a talker and a taker.
I don’t give unless I know that it will benefit me in the end. I’m not talking nickel-and-dime shit either. You gotta be big-time or you get none of my time!
Don’t even think about stepping to me with a five-figure income. I need a six-figure nigga or better—you know what I’m talking about?
Someone who can pay to be the boss. Or at least afford to have me make him think he is. I ain’t no woman you can walk all over. I tell ’em straight out: I might suck your dick, but I ain’t about to kiss your ass!
Ain’t nothing free in this world. Food cost, gas cost—shoot, and I cost too.
Too many of y’all chickenheads out there, giving it away for a Coke and a smile.
My mama told me I had a fortune down between my legs, and my mama ain’t never told me a lie.
I’m sorry, what was that?
What about love?
Pulllllleeeeeeeeeze. What about it?
Love is like religion: it’s a crutch for people who don’t have the looks or the smarts to make it in this kick-ass world.
Besides, I tried it in my twenties and it just didn’t work for me.
I’m not what you would call a committed type of sista.
I have a short attention span when it comes to men.
You know, I can be digging a guy, but if another one comes along with more bank for my bang, I’m there.
I’m also a mistress of illusion. I like to change up my appearance. Ladies, don’t you get bored looking in the mirror and seeing the same old person every single fucking day?
Well, I certainly do.
I like to dazzle myself and whoever it is I’m dating at the time. Well, usually I’m dating about three or four mofos at any given moment.
That’s the way you gotta do it, ladies, ’cause there is no perfect man, but if you get three or four okay guys, you can certainly build one. Every man has a purpose.
Lean in close and let me school you.
You have to have one that takes you to expensive restaurants.
Another that will buy you clothes. Another that will pay your bills.
Another that will keep you in hairdos and acrylic nails.
And then there’s the sugar daddy who’s popping Viagra like mints and still can’t keep it up for more than five minutes.
He’s the one who wants to have a beautiful woman on his arm in Monaco, Madrid, London, and St. Barts. Yeah, I got one of those too.
What about the one to love me, you ask?
We back to that love shit again?
I love me, my mama loves me—what I need a man to love me for? All I need from a man is his money!
Reality?
Well, whose reality are we speaking about, yours or mine? My reality is get yours and move on to the next fool and get some more!
—
Take this place, for example: Tuesday night, Café Aubette.
Wall-to-wall black people, everybody styling and profiling.
Most of them look real good, but then some of them…
well, over there, for instance. Yeah, yeah, that table full of tired-looking bitches with their twenty-five-dollar weaves and Lee Press On Nails.
Oh my God, do you see that? Sister-girl’s tracks are showing! And she grinning all up in that waiter’s face—he’s probably cracking up laughing on the inside!
Readers, should I tell her?
If I tell her that , then I would have to go on and tell her about the pink and green nail polish. What kind of fucked-up colors are those?
Hey, girlfriends, I have to let you know that AKA colors do not a French manicure make!
Oh, and do you see that outfit? Lord have mercy—a hot pink glitter tube top, faded black capri pants, and Payless pumps. That outfit ain’t fit to be worn outside!
I’m looking down at a lot of shoes and I see that Star Jones done got a lot of people tripping on some bullshit. Cheap shoes are just a prelude to corns, hammertoes, and bunions. Believe me when I tell you.
Now you see, the proper way to come up through here looking for a man that got some dollars is the Chevy way.
The three-hundred-dollar weave. Um-hmm, and the silk-wrapped nails. A reasonable length, not the claws these sisters run around here with, making you wonder how in the world they’re able to wipe their asses properly.
Oh yeah, don’t forget the Tahari suit and Italian leather pumps.
You gotta know how to do it right. You come up in here dressed like homegirl over there with those hanging tracks, and you gonna get just what you deserve, which is the brother who works in the mailroom, got five baby mommas, is still living with his mama, and is fronting in the passenger seat of his homeboy’s ride.
Simply put, a scrub!
I don’t want that.
So that’s why I come correct. I ooze class and sophistication and that’s what I want in return.
Don’t come all up in my face talking that “baby, baby” shit to me.
Been there, done that when I was a teenager.
That shit is for homegirl across the bar.
She looks like she’s about my age, but she still got that ghetto project mentality.
I grew up in the projects and fought long and hard to get out of there and I don’t plan on ever going back. Shit, not even to visit.
I’ll be the first one to tell ya, I’m all about the Benjamins because I ain’t got none of my own. I’m one paycheck away from being put out of my apartment. My credit cards are maxed out and now I just carry them around for show.
I got one ride left on my Metro card. You don’t believe me; if I’m lying I’m flying!
But you would never know my real situation just by looking at me. I know how to fake the funk!
Tonight I’ll go home and dig for change from between the cushions of my couch. I’m sure I can find enough to get me to work in the morning.
Or I can always give Geneva a call; I know she got a change jar up in her place. And if she holds out on me, I can bum a few dollars from Noah. He’s a tightwad, though, and I probably wouldn’t be able to get more than five dollars from his cheap ass.
But I can’t ask Crystal; I borrowed five thousand from her two weeks ago for some “required” surgery and ain’t paid back dime the first.