Chapter 5 #2
“Ain’t shit going to happen to you, especially not when you with me. Come on. I want to finish having a good night,” he brushed off what I said, and you could very well tell that he wasn’t worried about anything that I was saying in the least bit.
I felt like if it was any other man, I would have continued to turn him down, but I even shocked myself when I turned around, and I started walking, leading the way, heading for the lounge that Tank was talking about.
He came to my right, walking on the side of me, and we walked in silence for the five minutes that it took for us to get to the lounge.
I’ve been to this spot before. I’ve come with my sisters a few times. It was always a vibe. They played good music, and the food and drinks were good as well.
We made it out front, and Tank let them know that he wanted to get a booth for us.
They instantly walked us in, telling us to follow behind the hostesses.
Tank allowed me to go first, and the hostess took us to the back, setting us up in a nice booth, where I slid in first, and Tank came over, sliding in after me.
I got a whiff of his cologne again, and he smelled so damn good.
I had nothing bad to say about him when it came to his hygiene.
His fingernails were clean, breath smelled amazing, his skin looked like it was nice and moisturized, his face damn near looked like glass because it was so clear, and even the twist that was in his hair looked so healthy.
The hostess walked away, letting us know that our waitress would be over shortly.
Now that she was gone, it just left the two of us.
I was a little uncomfortable, felt a little nervous, and was just questioning myself on why I was even here, so I was ready for the waitress to come, so that I could get me a drink in my system.
That little glass of wine that I had back at the open mic wasn’t strong enough for me.
“You been here before?” Tank asked me, after we sat here for like two minutes in silence.
“Yeah. I came with my sisters,” I let him know.
“Why you act so different from them? A couple of months ago, me, June, and a few of our homeboys were at the club. Free pulled up with your other sister Tommie. You don’t act shit like them.
Why not?” he wanted to know, leaning back in the booth a little bit, and he stretched both of his arms out, so it’s almost like he had his arm draped around me.
You could tell that Tank wasn’t shy at all.
He also wasn’t fazed by the fact that I was sitting here, acting like I didn’t want to be here.
“I’ve always been different from my sisters,” I let him know.
“Ya’ll got the same daddy?” he asked.
“Do you and your siblings have the same daddy?” I asked him right back, and he laughed.
“I’m an only child, love. I offended you by asking you that?” he asked.
“You didn’t. Your just all in my business,” I said.
“What? I’m supposed to sit here with you in silence?
I’m trying to loosen you up. Take your purse off your shoulder and sit it on the couch.
I ain’t the nigga that you gotta be uptight with.
I was a raised by a single woman, and I spent a lot of time with my grandparents.
I’m not a weird ass nigga, and I don’t violate women.
I’m the last nigga that you gotta be uptight around. Just vibe,” he suggested.
I sighed, and I removed my purse from my shoulder, and sat it on the side of me. I turned to look at him, wondering if I should answer the previous question from him.
“Me, and my sisters all have different dads,” I let him know after a couple of minutes of silence.
“So, you’re the oldest, then it’s Tommie, and Free?” he asked.
“I have another little sister named Nivea. She was the baby,” I shared.
“I didn’t know it was four of ya’ll. What happened to her? Why you talking about her in past tense?” he wanted to know.
“Because she died,” I said it in a way like it was final, hoping that he would catch it, and not talk to me about it.
I didn’t like to talk about Nivea’s death. It was triggering as hell for me, and it would put me in a bad spot. I lost someone who’s diapers I used to change, who’s hair that I used to comb, so I would just rather not speak about her.
“I’m sorry for your loss. Damn. I didn’t know that,” I was glad that he read the room, and he left it at that.
I just nodded my head.
“You cool with your dad?” he changed the subject.
“He’s in prison. We have a good relationship though,” I told him.
“Damn. What that nigga in prison for? He was moving dope?” he asked me, and I grunted at his response.
“Why are you asking me all these questions?” I had to know, and again, he wasn’t fazed by my attitude because he laughed.
“Damn. I can’t ask you questions? You can ask me anything you want.
I’m an open book. I don’t mind sharing anything with you,” he said, and I just hated how handsome he looked.
Those dimples on him should have been against the law.
Then, when he laughed, you could see his straight, white teeth.
He made it so hard to sit here and pretend that I didn’t want to talk to him.
“The bitch that you keep telling me not to worry about, when is the last time that you had sex with her?” I asked, getting right to the point. These were the kind of questions that I wanted the answers to.
The fact that he smiled at my question, instead of getting offended, that just proved to me that his ass was crazy.
“The day before Liberty’s six-month party,” he was honest with his answer, but then again, I didn’t even know if that was true.
“Hmm,” was all I said.
“What else you want to know? How many times she came? I think it was five. Did I eat her pussy? Nah. Did I use protection? Yeah. I never leave my house without it. Where did we fuck? I pulled up on her at her crib. What else you want to ask daddy?” I wanted to slap the shit out of him.
I can’t even lie, there was this feeling of rage that came over me, as I thought about him fuckin the next bitch, and giving her five orgasms. The most orgasms a man has ever given me was two, and I almost had to beg for the second one because a lot of men couldn’t go too many rounds.
To know that he was out there fuckin women, giving them five orgasms proved to me that his bitch, that he was saying wasn’t his bitch was going to hate me.
God sent the server over here at a perfect time because before I even had the chance to respond to him, a beautiful, caramel skinned woman came over, standing in front of us, smiling, ready to take our orders.
She introduced herself, told us a little bit about the menu, the bottle service that they offered, and some of the popular hookah flavors.
I wanted to start off with something light, so I asked for a French 75, having her replace the gin with Titos.
Now, it was Tank’s turn to order, and he held the menu in his hand for the bottle service, as he looked over at me.
“If I get a bottle of Don, you gone take shots with me?” I asked.
“Probably not,” I responded, and he laughed.
“You also thought that you would never be on a date with me either, so I’m sure I can change your mind about that.
Let’s do a bottle of Don Julio Reposado,” he said to the waitress, who laughed, and let him know that she would put the orders in.
The second she was gone, that’s when I turned to look at him.
“This isn’t a date by the way,” I shared.
“What is it then?” he asked.
“Unfortunately, I lost a bet, so this is that,” I explained, and like it was a joke, he laughed.
“Finish telling me about your pops. Why he in prison? Was he moving weight? What’s his name? I might know him,” he went right back to the subject.
It’s like he didn’t have any plans of letting it go, and when you think about it, I guess I would rather us talk, than for us to sit here and be quiet, which would make things awkward.
“He’s in prison for murder,” I let him know.
“Damn. He got life?” he asked.
“No. He’s eligible for parole this year. Where’s your dad, Tank?” I fired the question right back at him.
“Shit, home, I guess. I don’t too much fool with that nigga like that.
I’m not a fan of niggas that plant babies, and don’t stand up, and take care of their responsibilities.
I’m not talking about now though. I’m a grown ass man, and I don’t need another nigga to take care of me.
I’m talking about in the past. The nigga still ain’t shit though.
He only hit me when he want something,” he got a little deep with me.
His dad sounded like Tommie’s dad. Out of all our father’s, Tommie’s dad was the worst. He’s never been consistent in her life, and I know that’s what mentally fucked my sister up.
As kids, Tommie was a problem child because she lived with so much anger.
Even though my dad was locked up, I still had family on his side, so on the weekends, I would go with them.
Free, and Nivea would go with their dad’s, which would leave Tommie with our mom, or our grandmother. Her issues began from that.
“What about your relationship with your mom?” I asked.
“Me, and my mama good. That’s my girl. She’ll like you,” he responded, and I just pretended that I didn’t even hear him say that.
“Is your real name Tank?” I wanted to know.
“Nah. My real name is Tavion,” I wanted to smile when he said that because that name was beautiful. It was sexy, and it fit him.
“Where did you get Tank from then?” I asked.
“My pop- pop nicknamed me Tank when I was like three years old. He said that I was cocky, even as a little kid. He also said that I was heard- headed too, so he started calling me Tank, and since then, that’s what everyone else calls me.
Nobody really calls me Tavion. My mama does it when I piss her off, and that’s when I know to chill out,” he said, and I found myself smiling because it made me think about my mom.