Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
I might just fuck you forever.
The sun was beaming. Summer in Dooley was scorching. Winters were as cold as the icebox. The seasons were proof of Channing’s chaos.
Dressed in a halter and skirt that barely covered my goods, I stepped out of Eden Saks, bags dangled from my arms, leaving temporary prints.
“Yes, Daddy. I spent it all. And, I got something special for you to see me in.”
Saga sniggered, holding her hand over her mouth. I muted the phone.
“What?”
“Bitch you ain’t been in one lingerie store.”
“So. He won’t know that.”
I unmuted the phone.
“No. Tonight doesn’t work for me, Daddy. I have work. When you’re ready to retire me, I’ll be in your bed any night.”
I stuck out my tongue and moved my head from the left to the right.
“I look forward to spending all of my time with you too.”
“Bitch you are going to hell,” Saga claimed.
I covered the phone, and whispered, “You’re going with me, hoe.”
“I am.”
“My mother is on the other line. I need to take this. Next week sounds like a plan, Daddy. Call you back.”
I ended the call with a roll of my eyes.
“You’re not calling him back are you?”
“Never,” I laughed. “Well, maybe to ask for a little more until next week— At that point I will be having car trouble.”
“Teach me your game!” Saga shrieked.
“You know my fucking game,” I reminded her. “You just done became a mom and shit. Got morals and shit. When you’re ready to get your feet wet, let me know bitch, and we’re at the bars together.”
It was the way I filled my contacts with tricks that served no purpose beyond my personal gain. Even Channing’s prosecutor was in my call log. After my charges were dismissed, so was his presence. I’d put that shit behind me and never planned to revisit the county jail again.
“I will keep that in mind. For now, I’m loving my little gig.
It’s paying the bills, keeping my baby fed, and putting some money in my granny’s pockets for keeping Julian.
I just feel a little guilty–working all night and then sleeping all day while he’s awake.
It’s usually three in the evening before I’m awake again. ”
“You’re a mother, Saga. That’s the sacrifice you have to make. It’ll all work itself out. Besides, you’re only working three days a week. He has you to himself the other four days.”
“You’re right,” she sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t focus on those days as much. I’ve been beating myself up about them.”
“Don’t. You’re doing a great job. And, you’re present. Motherhood is not one size fits all. You’re holding down two roles. Provider and nurturer. You’re one person. Some areas will look different. But, he’s taken care of and loved well. Give yourself credit, friend.”
“Yeah. You’re right.”
“Now, you trying to go home and play make believe or you still hitting The Boulevard with me?”
“Oh, honey, I’m not that damn deep in the motherhood trenches. I’m outside today. I need to make sure them motherfuckers are at the club tipping me Friday.”
“Say less.”
It was Wednesday night on The Boulevard. Old schools and new schools lined the block. In the lot of the abandoned grocery store were the whips of those who chose to stretch their legs and walk the three block strip.
“Let me get a sour cup.”
“And, I’m going to have the same. The watermelon kind.”
The sour bomb pop cups were a slice of heaven in the Channing City heat.
“Aight. Coming right up.”
The blaring sound of the ice cream truck continued as I handed over six dollars.
“I could’v–”
“Girl, don’t piss me off,” I warned Saga, snatching my sour cup from the makeshift counter.
“Bitch you not the boss of me.”
“I’m not. But, I’m a friend and a friend can pay for her friend shit sometimes.”
“Right. Right. Right.”
Saga grabbed her cup, popped the top, and followed me onto the strip. The moment we hit the curb, our attention was solicited.
“Hyphen– Baby, I been hoping to run into you,” Rodney sang. “There goes my baby.”
His antics were comical, but his pockets were deep. I didn’t mind playing the dummy to get a few dollars out of him.
“Saga my Saga,” Roddrick, his younger brother called out.
“These niggas,” I groaned, keeping a smile on my face. “You want to run these niggas’ pockets, then here is your chance. They both have more money than their funny looking asses know what to do with. I can show ‘em.”
“I second that.”
“Just don’t–”
“Fall in love.”
“Don’t even like the nigga for real.”
“Exactly,” Saga agreed.
Saga walked over to Roddrick, sliding right between his legs. I made my way to Rodney. He was dressed in denim shorts and an oversized tee. On his head was a black fitted cap. He tugged at it before lowering his arms to hug me.
It had been nearly four years since I’d last seen him. Time hadn’t made his face any more pleasant. He was uglier than I last remembered. Still, his pockets were pretty. Nothing more mattered.
“Hop in with me.”
Subconsciously, I scanned the block as I slid into the drop top Benz. Rodney joined me on the driver side. His obnoxious cologne assaulted my nostrils.
“Long time no fucking see. How you doing, love?”
I shook my head, prepared to lie. A sigh rushed from my lips as I dug into my sour cup.
“Not as good as I’d like to. In fact, not good at all.”
Rule number one when dealing with a duck is to get them accustomed to spending immediately. The moment they heard your voice, they owed you already. The energy, time, conversation, and disruption all cost.
He turned my way, leaning in.
“Talk to me. What’s on your mind? Is there anything I can help with?”
Got him.
“Just a lot, you know. Just a lot,” I sighed, closing my eyes for added effect. I shook my head from side to side.
“I’m listening. Lay it on me. You’re too pretty to be sad.”
“I wouldn’t mind telling you all about it but I’m overwhelmed already. Maybe another day.”
“How about you tell me all about that shit Sunday. Dinner. On me.”
I shook my head again.
“Rodney, my entire wardrobe was burned to shreds by another woman. One I didn’t know existed.
One that’s the main reason I’m back home.
Back in Dooley. Saga has been nice enough to lend me pieces.
I don’t want to waste your time telling you I’ll be ready on Sunday at eight, because that’s highly unlikely. ”
He leaned over, lifting his armrest and exposing stacks of twenties, neatly stuffed. He reached in and grabbed two, offering them to me.
“Rodney–” I sighed.
“Know that as long as you’re fucking with me, you won’t have to worry about shit. We’ll talk about whatever is bothering you over dinner and see how we can clear that shit up, ya feel me?”
“Yes.”
The exchange was smooth. From my hand to his.
Now, for my exit strat–
Just as the thought crossed my mind, I felt my body being lifted from the car. Baffled, I began swinging. The money slipped from my fingers. I grabbed for hair, clothes, ears, or anything that would leverage the disadvantage I was facing. I felt nothing.
I was moving rapidly. So was everything around me. As the realization that I wasn’t in a fight hit me, I settled down. My hands stopped flailing and my body relaxed against the familiar structure.
The thought of the two thousand dollars I’d left in Rodney’s car had me seeing red again. I launched a fist into Flocco’s back.
“Put me down!” I yelled. “Put me the fuck down!”
He did. We were no longer in front of the growing crowd. We were on the side of the yellow store, out of the public’s view.
“Why’d you do that?”
“You want me to bust your shit, Hyph?”
He was bluffing. Flocco wouldn’t lay a hand on me. He’d threatened me enough times to know.
“Fuck you!”
“You did that and that’s why I snatched your slimy ass up out of that whip.”
“If I’m so slimy then why the fuck are you still running behind me like a lost dog.”
“Cause that’s exactly what I am. And, I like my bone wet. Slimy. Coated in that shit that only you have.”
I lunged forward, ready to get as far from the nut case in front of me as I could. I’d robbed his ass in the middle of the night, yet here he was sniffing behind me like a stray.
My back hit the wall. Flocco refused to let me out of his sight.
“You not going no fucking where, Trouble.”
“Stop calling me that.”
“When you stop calling me Flocco.”
“I’m not calling you shit anymore. I want you out of my fucking life.”
“Too late, baby girl. We’re locked in.”
“I’m not.”
“Yes the fuck you are.”
“Move–” I tried pushing past him again.
I didn’t make it.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You can’t see a nigga really trying to fuck with your ignorant ass?”
“Can’t you see that I am recovering from a nigga? Hm? The last thing I want is another one. Hounding me. Telling me what to do. Where to piss. How to shit. When to speak. Where to go. How to be me. I’m not interested, Flocco.
“So, save your soul because I will ruin it. I will ruin you. I am a dangerous woman right now. I’m so far from what you need.
You should be putting distance between us.
Yet, you keep getting closer to the fire.
Like a moth. When you burn, don’t say I never told you so, because I have. I am… right n–”
He crashed into my lips. I reciprocated his desire. He tasted so good. He felt so good. So warm. So inviting.
I chastised myself for leaving a weak spot for him to get past my guard. It wasn’t strong enough or maybe he was stronger.
“Flocco,” I moaned against his lips.
“I want my dick sucked, Hyph,” he whispered, throaty and deep.
My knees hit the pavement hastily. I couldn’t resist his demand. I wanted to please him. I wanted to please him well.
Flocco was draped in denim. A pair of shorts with a Gucci belt laced through the loops. A distressed denim vest that was open, showing off his shirtless chest and artful body ink.
On his head was a burgundy fitted cap.
On his feet were burgundy and white gangster Nikes.
A rolex rested on his wrist.
A gold chain on his chest.
The rope was full of diamonds.
Gold didn’t cover all his pearly white teeth, but a bar was on top of the bottom half with his canines dipped in gold completely.
“Shit, baby.”