Chapter 1 #2
A deep, sultry voice disrupted my nervous system as it spoke.
“But then, I thought, can’t be. Ain’t another woman in Dooley that damn fine. That damn pretty. Or has the power to make everything around me disappear. Everything but her.”
Fine bumps pricked my skin. I swallowed whatever was keeping my sharp words buried beneath my tongue. Calloused fingers wrapped around my arm, pulling me between creased jeans. Though I wanted to resist, I was deemed helpless by the woodsy notes of the santal-based cologne.
What is it? I wondered, widening my nostrils to savor the scent.
“I thought you’d be the one who had gotten away. Yet, here you are.”
I didn’t see his face often. Not now. Not four years ago. Not ever. I could count on one hand how many times I’d encountered him. But I knew his voice by heart. It soothed something inside of me that I never knew existed.
“Do you put your oily fingers on all the strangers you find attractive?”
There she is.
He leaned in, lips near my ear.
“Nah. Just you.”
I mustered the strength to put distance between the insufferable human and me.
It was a very bad decision on my end. It had been so long since I’d witnessed him in all his glory.
He was breathtaking in the white tee with something colorful in the center.
I couldn’t see much of anything but his face.
It was dark.
It was rich.
It was smooth.
It was perfect.
Like something out of a magazine. Or on television.
His beauty was unbelievable. As if seeing him was a dream. But, it wasn’t.
“Do me a favor,” I advised, opening my half-empty purse, “Unless you can add to this collection plate, keep your hands to yourself.”
“Miss Stone,” he sniggered, calling me by my last name, “You’re a cold woman. I see not much has changed.”
“Hmph.”
“Let me take you out on a date.”
“Goodbye, Flocco.”
“Please.”
“Saga!” I called out, eyes still on Flocco.
“I said please.”
With a roll of my eyes, I put more distance between us.
“Saga!”
“Coming,” she yelled, but it was obvious she was lying through her teeth.
Flocco stepped forward, smelling like he’d walked right out of heaven. He reached into his pocket and removed a thick knot. Slowly, he peeled off a hundred-dollar bill and shoved it into my purse.
“Maybe that will get me in your good graces.”
My eyes trailed from the purse to him again. He tilted his head. I lifted my bag slightly. A chuckle fell from his lips.
“Or that–”
He stuffed another hundred inside.
“Maybe,” I said, kissing the skin of my teeth.
“Can I at least get a number on you, Hyph?”
My heart skipped a beat. And then another one. I exhaled the breath I’d been holding as Saga looped her arm through mine.
“You ready?”
My eyes were still on Flocco. Time had been kind to him. His six-foot frame had thickened. So had the hair on his face. I didn’t miss the despair in his eyes. Life had stripped him of both parents. The same day. Simultaneously. I wouldn’t wish that type of pain on my worst enemy.
My mother was a product of the streets, but if I needed her, I didn’t have to question her commitment. Crack cocaine had stolen her from me long before I knew what the drug was. It was the chase for her first high that led her to my dad’s vehicle. That night would change her life forever.
Not only did she receive the forty dollars she’d requested, but she also received a bundle of joy nine months later.
According to my records, there wasn’t a trace of crack in my system.
My mother sobered after missing her period and didn’t touch another pipe until I was six years old.
That day, my world was flipped upside down.
“I am.”
Pursed lips blew a kiss in my direction. My back caught it as I turned around. Saga was holding onto me tightly. She was brimming with excitement.
“Are we keeping secrets now?” I questioned.
“He’s–he’s off limits,” she explained.
“How?”
“Long story short, he runs in the same circle as Jermaine.”
“And?”
“They say birds of a feather flock together.”
“Point made. Just making sure you’re not sparing Jermaine’s feelings.”
“Nope. I’m sparing mine. Besides, we said we’re outside this summer, right?”
“Um hm.”
“No time to be slipping and falling on nigga’s dicks that we know we won’t be able to get off of.”
Flocco’s face flashed before me. My breath hiked in my chest. As quickly as he’d appeared in my head, I forced him out. He didn’t belong there.
“Agreed!”
“Five o’clock. Big teeth. Flashy fit. He has been staring at you all night.”
“Staring, not spending. If he wants my attention, the least he can do is buy us a drink.”
“You know what–hell yeah,” Saga giggled. “Hell yeah.”
I shifted my weight as I turned away from the bar to get a glimpse at the person Saga was referring to. As she’d mentioned, all fifty-eight teeth of the man in the bold yellow fit were showing. He raised his cup, acknowledging my attention. I didn’t return the favor. Instead, I looked past him.
“Here you are–” the bartender said, garnering my attention. “Another round of green apple martinis.”
With furrowed brows, I asked the question both Saga and I needed an answer to.
“Who should we be thanking for this round?”
A head nod led our eyes in the opposite direction.
My heart was pinned against my chest before I landed on him.
He didn’t raise his glass. His lips didn’t curl into a smile.
His demeanor didn’t change. He lined the cigar in his hand with the weed from his other hand.
I watched intently as he placed the blunt to his lips and began to lick from one end to the other, rolling simultaneously.
Within seconds, he was holding the finished product against a lighter, pulling to ignite the fire at the tip of it.
I closed my eyes briefly. My walls pulled together.
Get it together, bitch. Alarms sounded in my head.
“You have awakened the beast.”
“So has Dooley, so it’s best he steers clear of me.”
I placed the cup to my lips and took a sip. Nelly’s voice blared over the loudspeakers.
“Ahhhh. That’s my shit!”
Saga grabbed me by the hand and led me through the crowd.
The DJ altered the track, restarting Tip Drill twice before letting the record play.
By the time Nelly’s introduction began to play again, Saga was bent over with her hands on her knees.
In the stretchy black fabric, an earthquake of an unbelievable magnitude surfaced.
My drink shook, slightly spilling onto my fingers. So did my body as she pressed into me.
“I said it must be ya ass cause it ain’t your face,” we sang together. “I need a tip drill. I need a tip drill.”
Ignoring the sweetness dripping down my hand, I used the dry one to pat her ass. Saga was talented. She did things with her body that left me mesmerized. She looked and smelled good while doing it.
Seduction was her superpower.
So was sexiness.
And sultriness.
And persuasion.
And timeless.
Saga was the total package. Her long legs were coated in chocolate.
Her eyes were big and round. Her lips were fluffy.
The waist, which the human anatomy confirmed, was nowhere to be found on Saga’s frame.
What she was missing in her waistline, she recovered in her bust and butt.
Her breasts were like melons on her chest. Her ass was ridiculous.
Not only was she body, but she was brains, too.
She was a college graduate who couldn’t land a job in her field.
She’d been trying since she completed community college.
She’d tallied ninety-six rejections since graduating.
After one hundred, she made a promise to stop asking anyone to give her a chance and to make one for herself.
Without a doubt, she knew those rejections would come.
Five applications had been submitted this week alone.
I rubbed my hand across her body. The fabric of her clothes melted against her skin like lava. The two-piece was painted on.
Onlookers stared daggers into our frames. We didn’t give them the satisfaction of our attention. In a world of our own, we entertained one another.
Tip Drill was followed by lyrics that were impossible to forget.
“Cash Money Records taking over for the ’99 and the 2000.”
Saga was behind me now, hand on the arch in my spine as I gyrated to the beat. As my serotonin was maxed, I tried remembering the last time I felt this good. This free. This comfortable. This happy. This enthused. This selfish. This pretty. This purposeful.
My days were filled with kisses from Julian, corner store runs, ice cream truck stops, freeze cups, porch conversations, and walks on the lake. And, somehow, the experiences were incomparable to anything else.
It was as if I’d been holding my breath for the last four years, awaiting the moment it all came crashing down. And, when it did, it only hurt for a little while. Because, somehow, in the back of my brain, I’d always been expecting it. I didn’t know it. Not until it was all over.
It didn’t hurt any less. It just didn’t hurt as long. I couldn’t let the pain of what could’ve been cloud too many of my days. I refused to give all my time to that heartache. I didn’t deserve that. Neither did the man I’d spent the last four years with.
Track after track helped me loosen the threads that were holding me hostage.
Drink after drink, provided by the man who wasn’t hovering over us to cash in on his unsolicited investment, helped me overcome my struggle with the pursuit of my happiness.
Four months had passed, and I was still wondering what that looked like for me. Now, I knew.
It looked like this. My friend's body against mine as we swayed to the beat of a good song. A new home right at home. Fully furnished rooms. Solitude. Independence. A limitless future. A cash car full of gas. Sureness. Self-awareness. Openness. Good drinks. Good pussy. And, good people around you.
I lost track of time. My jaws hurt from laughing uncontrollably. My feet hurt from staying on the dance floor all night. My heart ached from sheer, unfiltered contentment.
“Bitch, I think I’m drunk.”