by Renta
They reveal a reality so deep, and brazen that one that seeks an escape from their reality finds it through either taking a dull blade, and slashing their wrists, or simply finding a peaceful road within the walls of their mind, and venturing so far inside that self-created paradise that they forget the way back out. I sat inside that cold cell, the frigid air that entered from the broken windows licked my skin as the pressures of life, the abandonment of family, and the betrayed love caused grown men to muffle their cries. There were eight more hours before my first day of a speedy trial, and I knew the state was seeking the death penalty.
I thought back to the man that screamed just minutes ago. I wondered what drove him to that dark place? That’s when reality stole my breath, and the hurricane inside me swirled vengefully. The storm cascaded down my face as two words blew through my mind as if blown by a gust of wind: it’s expected. The mind of a maniac!
****
~Jazzy~
It had been a while since I’d been able to just relax, and vibe with my girls. When I’d moved out west, we had lost touch and I’d missed them. Charla was like a sista to me, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world, but it was nothin’ like being home. Me, Marcella, Shay, and some girl name Cleo lounged around at Shay’s house that she’d recently bought. My girl had done well for herself—in my absence, she had gotten herself knocked up by her high school sweetheart Bobo. They were having twins, and I was so happy for my girl. Pregnancy agreed with her, and as we sat around taking shots of Ciroc, Shay sipped orange juice and told us of the names they’d come up with.
As she spoke, I couldn’t help but notice how touchy Marcella and the girl Cleo were with each other. I had a strong feeling that they were a bit more than just friends, but who was I to judge. I was just glad to be back home.
“So, Ms. Thang, you have a lot to catch up on. Ya fast ass just up and disappeared on us. I won’t even lie, I was fucked up with you! You left and didn’t keep in touch with nobody but—” Shay began but became choked up at the thought of Tessa’s name.
Our girl had been missing for months, but finally, they’d found her along with some other woman—their bodies bullet-ridden, and corroding from the weather, and animal life. Someone had done my girl dirty, and the hood had all fingers pointing to Twisted’s crazy ass. Word ‘round the way was that she’d been caught creeping on him, and he’d drove her out to the country, and did her dirty. The police couldn’t even identify Tessa—they had to use dental records, and DNA analysis to confirm who she was.
Marcella shook her head in dismay. “That’s crazy how they did sis, shit crazy out here—everybody dying and shit. Y’all heard what happened to, Armani?” she asked.
I shook my head—I didn’t know too much about the girl, but I’d heard her, and my girls had gotten close. Marcella told us that the word on the street was a poisonous snake had gotten into Armani’s apartment somehow. I noticed Shay was staring at her with a look that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, it was borderline accusatory. I’d been knowing the two women my entire life and knew that when Shay had that look—she was on the verge of giving someone a piece or her mind.
“They say that Assata is the one that found her and her daughter—you know that was Assata lil’ bitch while you were away. I tried to tell, Armani, it wasn’t a good idea to mess with him cause you was our girl—”
My eyes shot to Marcella as her words stabbed me in the chest. It wasn’t like I didn’t know Assata was doing him while I was out of the picture, but damn. I’d thought he’d have more respect for me than to fuck with someone I knew. Even though I didn’t know her, Armani was fuckin’ with my hood bitches, and that made it a violation. I never understood how niggas and females ended up fucking with their ex’s friends. There was no future in shit like that. It only revealed the snake shit that was in their veins out the gate.
“I don’t even know why you fuck with that dirty ass nigga Assata, the nigga not right, bitch. He tried to fuck me, and I—”
“Bitch stop lying on that man!” Shay interrupted Marcella’s rant. She rolled her eyes at Marcella. “You’s a messy bitch, Mar, you ain’t even have to air that man’s business like that. We wasn’t even cool with, Armani, you were!” She rubbed her belly as if the children inside her could feel their mother’s irritation.
Marcella leaned back in the chair with a smug look on her face. “Shay, how would your sheltered ass know what the hell is going on in the hood? That nigga keeps you cooped up in this house so much you should have bed sores.” She mocked before picking up her glass and downing the shot.
I followed suit and pasted a generic smile on my face. “Naw—it’s cool, Shay, Assata already told me about his situation with, Armani,” I lied to save face. No woman wanted to feel foolish, and a lot of times we’d lie for the same dawg ass nigga that had no respect for us. It wasn’t that we were trying to protect the nigga, but more in the name of protecting ourselves from the ‘I told you so’s’. “My question is, why did it take me comin’ back for you to tell me that?” My eyes bore into Marcella’s. “Real bitches don’t keep those type of secrets, Mar, especially from their girls. If Assata was trying to fuck you—why you didn’t lace my stilettos?” I asked as all eyes fell on Marcella.
I don’t know if it was the liquor or if the shit had built up inside of me, and it was just that time to give it to her ass, but I did exactly that. “You know what, I’ve been wondering about your motives for a while—” I spoke as I reached down and refilled my glass. “—you knew I was running from my past—you knew how I feel about, Assata, Marcella, but you brought the enemy to my doorstep. That nigga Shotta beat my ass and forced me to move back to Cali, and I heard from you twice the entire time I was there,” I spat.
Shay’s mouth fell to the floor as she shook her head as if she couldn’t believe what I’d just said.
Marcella shot up from her seat. “Oh—so you gonna gang up on me?” She was so dramatic. “Jazzy, you know I’ll kick your ass. So, I don’t know why you’re over there talking all greasy. Bitch, I call myself pulling your skirt to the fact your triflin’ ass nigga can’t keep his dick in his pants, and you cap an attitude with me?” She rolled her neck sassy-like before turning her wrath to Shay. “And bitch, I’m the one that’s been here with you making sure you make it to those doctor’s appointments while that nigga has loved his job more than he loved you!” Marcella was on a roll as she placed her hand on her hip and let the alcohol reveal things she wouldn’t have if she was sober. “But you’re letting this bitch come up in here and—”
That was as far as she made it before I leaped from the spot I’d been sitting on the couch and hit the bitch with a left hook. I followed up with a right jab to her temple and dropped her to the floor.
“Bitch—I ain’t gonna be too many more bitches!” I spazzed on her. “Now, get your ass up—you’ve been havin’ this ass whooping coming for years. I’m not that docile, yes girl I was when we were sixteen.” I was hyped as I bent down and tied my J’s.
****
~Goose~
“Hey, baby!” Tonya blushed as the door swung open.
I pulled her juicy ass into my embrace. “Sup, Ms. Lady?” I asked her real smooth-like.
It had been almost two weeks since I’d last fucked with her, and if I was, to be honest with myself—I missed her. Within my forty-four years of living, I’d come to realize that it’s always the relationship that wasn’t supposed to last that ends up being the one that holds on to your heart the strongest. I released her, stepped back, and allowed my vision to take her in. Lil one was showing her ass. Tonya Johnson was a thick woman. Not as in fat, but more like one of those super thick women that if she ate one more cookie she’d be classified as such. Tonya’s shit was tight though—she reminded me of a curvier Jill Scott. That night she wore a see-through teddy that had my dick stand at attention as I stared at her chocolate nipples through the fabric of the transparent material.
She had her hair fro’d out, bu
t tied back by a black scarf, impulsively, my eyes fell to her feet—check! I smiled as I diverted my eyes from her pretty manicured toes, pass her recently shaven legs, on up to the juicy ass imprint of her paradise that was concealed behind black lace.
“Are you gonna come in or continue to stare until I catch pneumonia?” She smiled at me with chocolate lips.
Her fragrance made love to my senses as she took my hands and guided me into her warm abode. She locked the door behind me before reaching down to untie the gray and black Prada shoes that I wore—one by one she helped me out of them before walking me over to a red loveseat.
“Sit, baby—make yourself at home.” She turned and headed toward the kitchen with a sway to her shapely hips. Her ass was oiled and glowing in the candlelit room. “What would you like to drink handsome?” she asked as she disappeared around the corner.
I got comfortable and took in the décor of her spot. White carpet—that told me she was a clean woman. No mu’fucka in their right mind would dare get a heaven white carpet installed in their living room if they were dirty or kept company over. The furniture consisted of red love seats that complimented a soft red velvet sofa. There was a framed portrait of Medgar Evers hanging above the fireplace—I stared into his still eyes, sadness was instant as I realized that death didn’t give a fuck about what typa person you were. When God called your number, you had no choice but to answer. The Civil Rights worker was from Mississippi, and he’d been killed by a sniper after a broadcast of a pro-Civil Rights speech by President J.F. Kennedy. I shook my head at the irony of how my people had come so far, but still—still being killed for our desire for equality.
“What you got?” I inquired as my eyes took in the gold trimmed glass coffee table.
The glass was supported by a piece in the shape of Africa that was carved out of white marble. The sista was for the people, and I respected her taste.
“Um—I have Remy XO—let me see what else,” Tonya called out after a brief moment. The aroma of whatever she’d cooked wafted into the room, and it smelt like freedom to a man that’s been locked up for decades. “Okay—I have Smirnoff Lime, Kahlua, Wine, Kool-Aid, and water. Pick your poison, brotha.”
The light from the three different size red candles flickered and cast dancing shadows around the room as I got up, walked over to her entertainment system and appraised her CD collection.
‘Do people still buy CD’s?’ I wondered.
Queen had some good shit—Dru Hill, Jagged Edge, Sade, Betty, and even some Miles Davis. I chose Jagged Edge J.E. Heartbreak – ‘What You Tryna Do’ was my shit.
“I’ll take the Remy—neat!” I shouted mildly as J.E. set the tempo.
I turned to head back to my seat, but at that moment Tonya came out of the kitchen carrying my plate and requested drink to the dining room. I followed—the way that ass swallowed the string of that sexy ass nightie made me want to skip dinner and go straight to dessert. Shawty sat the plate and drink down before pulling out my chair.
“Dinner is served, Monsieur,” she announced with a French dialect.
I laughed as I took my seat. Queen used a small knife and fork to cut the meat into bite-sized chunks, and with her free hand cupped under the fork to catch anything that fell she straddled me with a smile, with anticipating eyes, Tonya fed me.
“I cooked you smothered pork chops, cream corn, green beans, and mash potatoes. I hope you like it—are you a Muslim—I mean, it’s too late, but—” she rambled nervously.
I could tell she wanted to please me, but I wasn’t a Muslim and the perfectly seasoned meat and potatoes were fire. I swallowed my food before banishing her anxiety. “Naw—I ain’t no Muslim, and you can thank whoever taught you how to burn in the kitchen, you’re the gospel!” The tension in her body eased evidently. “I just hope desert is just as good,” I added before she fed me a forkful of chops and green beans.
A panicked expression etched into her features. I had to contain my laughter as Tonya took a sip from my cup to cover her reaction.
“I didn’t make any dessert, but I—”
“Shissh!” I hushed her with a finger to her succulent lips.
“What you tryna do for it—heard that you been lookin’ for—good love, and I’m for sure that I know just what you came here for/ what you tryna do for it—I’ll spend all my loot for it/ tell me, baby, what you tryna do—” Jagged Edge serenaded the atmosphere as I looked lady in her eyes.
“You’re my dessert, Queen.”
****
~Ice Berg~
“Swanson—get ready for an attorney visit!” The guard came on the intercom. My eyes cracked open slightly—glancing over at the digital clock I’d gotten off the commissary, I wanted to pull the blanket back over my head and drift back to sleep, but—“Swanson—be ready in twenty minutes.” My desire was crushed.
I sat up groggily—the chill in the cell caused me to shiver. I knew I’d never get used to not waking up in my own bed—nor wearing another man’s clothes. It was six-fifty am, and those bitches were already trying to rush me to the guillotine.
“Yea—whateva, white boy,” I whispered. I squeezed a bit of toothpaste on my toothbrush.
“They’re gonna give you the needle, nigger, and when they do—I’ll be sure to get a front row seat,” The racist mu’fucka blurted before he laughed.
I shook my head slightly—they were eavesdropping on me—there was no privacy in jail.
“Say—say, youngsta, I heard what that white boy just said. Don’t worry ‘bout that cracka, stay focused, lil’ brotha,” an old school cat that was in the cell beside me whispered.
His name was Rodney K. and he’d been gone for two decades for a string of bank robberies. We’d met my second day on the compound. I wasn’t tryin’ to be on no friendly shit with none of those cats, but school put me up on all the rules of fed life. I was truly fucked up ‘bout my fate, but it was the hand I was dealt. If I woulda stuck to the script and left the game I wouldn’t have been in that predicament.
“Ain’t shit, old head, I’m on all ten, my lil’ brotha lost his life to this shit—I owe it to him to stay stiff,” I responded as I got dressed.
The truth was, my heart was sick, there was no such thing as a man that was ‘bout something in them streets, and he wasn’t fucked up ‘bout leaving the shit he bled, sweated, and killed for to anotha nigga. I neva understood how niggas could say, ‘if you do this or that, and you get bammed—you can’t be fucked up ‘bout the consequences!’ It had to have been a nothin’ ass nigga with no money that created that statement. If a nigga has something worth missin’, he’s gonna be fucked up ‘bout fuckin’ it off—it don’t matter what the fuck he’d done.
“Say, school, what you think my odds are, fam?” There was a brief pause before homie said some shit that ended our brief association.
“Say, youngsta, I ain’t gonna cut no corners with you, ya dig. I’ve been locked up in this cage for going on twenty-one years, and I’ve seen these white folks hang niggas for shit as petty as being a felon in possession. You’re in for a helluva ride, but—as they say, you can’t be fucked up ‘bout something you did. Know what I’m sayin’ youngin’?”
I stared at the wall as if I could see him through it. “Bitch ass nigga!” I whispered.
“You say something, youngsta?” he asked with a hint of uncertainty.
****
~Goose~
My toes curled as Tonya attempted to suck my soul from my dick. To keep from screaming out like a lil’ bitch, I spread her juicy folds and buried my face in heaven. Capturing her clit with my lips—I applied gentle pressure as I allowed my spit to build up in my mouth. I’d heard that no one knows how to eat pussy better than anotha woman, but I begged to differ. All it took was for a man to pay attention to the signs—read her body with each lick—suck, and kiss and it would tell you what the business was. My point was proven as I reached up and placed my thumb against her asshole. I didn’t insert it, just applied pressu
re to let her anticipate a darker side of euphoria.
We were in the sixty-nine position, and neither one of us could run from the other as a deep moan escaped from deep inside her. Her lips slid up my shaft until she had the head captured like a soldier on the wrong side of enemy lines. The black woman’s tongue kissed my manhood and attempted to close her legs around my head, but with her on top—I wrapped my arms around her waist before making my tongue dance over the tip of her clit. Her body told me it wouldn’t be long—but her head game had me on the edge of Mount Everest. If she didn’t bust in the next few seconds, I was gonna commit blissful suicide.
Our bodies must have been in unison because just as I pushed the tip of my thumb inside her ass—my spirit turned into liquid and shot from me at the same time a thunderstorm poured from paradise. We rode the waves until the earthquake subsided, and after she’d composed herself—Tonya repositioned herself on top of me. Those titties swung in front of my face like a piece of meat dangled in front of a starved animal. It was instinctive to latch onto them. I sucked the right nipple as I rolled the left between my thumb and pointer finger. Tonya moaned as she massaged my length with her pussy lips causing me to swell beneath her. She lifted before reachin’ down and inserting me inside her sacred place—fire dripped around me as juices escaped her.
She lifted until her lower lips held me by the tip, and without warning dropped down on me with an arch to her back. She did this a few times before leaning forward, stretching her body out on top of me and beginning to pop that pussy. I reached down and spread her ass cheeks apart as far as I could.
Just as my body tensed and a roar was crawling up my throat, Ms. Lady slowed her pace. “Shit—you’re a mu’fucka,” I growled as her tight lips squeezed me.
“No, Papi, I’m not ready for you to bust yet,” she whispered softly as her eyes rolled over me.