by Mikal Malone
“I don’t know, and to tell you the truth, I’m happy about not knowing. Because there’s nothing you can tell me that will make me understand why she chose such a weak move. Suicide is selfish when you’re loved. I loved her harder than a man should ever love a woman, but I guess that wasn’t good enough for her. I just wish I…”
I can’t hear shit else Judah was spitting. Because while he was running his mouth, I was looking at Chris walk in with some beautiful girl with smooth brown skin, a size zero waist and a humungous ass. My eyes move from her to Chris as they talk to the hostess. What the fuck is so funny? They look happy, and I feel like I’m carrying a fifty-pound moving baby in my stomach.
First let me talk about how good Chris looks. She was never big, but now she looks like she was in the gym hard since the last time I saw her. Her hair is cut into a curly bush, and she is dressed in some slick ass grey slacks, with a black short sleeve shirt. A pair of Gucci black shoes dress her feet.
The girl, who I have no doubt is Lace, is wearing a white dress, that hugs every curve of her body. They are smiling in each other’s faces and they look like they don’t have a care in the world. Until they see me.
They follow the hostess to their seats, but on the way stop at my table.
“Yvette,” Chris says clearing her throat. “How are you?”
“Great.” I try to smile but I know I’m frowning.
It’s a good thing she stopped too. Because, if she would’ve walked past this table like she didn’t know me, I would’ve put a hot slug in her back.
I’m so mad right now I can’t see nothing but Chris’ eyes. Who is she to be happy, and to go on with her life? Why isn’t she at home, trying to find a thousand ways to get me back? She should be devastated that I didn’t call her, after she told me she wasn’t leaving Lace for me. But she isn’t. She’s happy. So what is going on?
“Baby, who is this?” Judah asks.
“Chris, This is my fiancé Judah,” I say.
Chris’ expression changes from confusion to sadness. She looks at me, and then at him. Finally I got the look I was going for. The look of pain and hurt. Yeah, bitch. How does it feel?
“Oh…well…congrats on your upcoming nuptials,” she gives Judah some dap. “This is my girlfriend Lace.”
“Hello, Yvette,” Lace smiles. Her teeth are so white they look unreal. “Chris has told me so many nice things about you. She says you are the strongest woman she has ever known. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
I can’t believe Chris said all of those nice things about me. Instead of being relieved that I’m still a topic of their relationship, it makes me sad even more. Chris is handling this break up with class, and I don’t know how to deal. I’m use to drama and pain.
“It’s nice to meet you too,” I shake Lace’s hand. It’s soft, and dainty, like a girl’s should be. Not small and hard like mine. I can tell she’s a kept woman. And if she marries Chris, I already know she’ll have a fairytale life.
“Enjoy the rest of your evening,” Chris says. “Bye, Yvette.”
“Who was—,”
“I’m ready to go home,” I say cutting Judah off. “Let’s go now.”
****
There is one way to get a female out of your mind, and that is to get some dick. So the moment we made it to Judah’s place, I stripped him out of his pants, followed by his boxers. We were in the living room, and he is standing before me, naked from the waist down.
The funny thing is, even though his dick is limp, he is still packing. His rod is big, and smooth and has a large mushroom head, with a thick pulsating vein stretching down the middle.
I lie on the floor, face up, and open my mouth. “Come down here, Judah. I want to taste you.”
He walks over to me and looks down at me. All I see is hairy dick and ass. “Are you okay?” he asks. “You haven’t said a word since we left the restaurant. And when you do talk you want to suck my dick?”
I close my mouth and sigh. “Why are you complaining? You gonna come out good at the end of this.”
“Do you want to talk, baby?”
“I want to suck your dick? Do you want me to get up?”
He shrugs and drops to his knees. I open my mouth and he placed the tip of his dick on my tongue like it’s a thermometer. I want a mouth full of meat, and this romantic shit is not the mood I was aiming for. He’s all nice and soft, and I’m irritated. I have to control this situation. I need my mind off of her. I want him to give me one of them rough face fucks that Thick use to give me, when he was all about himself, and getting his cum on.
I move my face to the side, and his dick falls out of my mouth and onto my chin. “Fuck my face, Judah. Fuck it rough too.”
He scoots down, and leans over me. His dick hangs, and rubs against my stomach like the pendulum on a grandfather clock. “Baby, what the fuck is all of this shit about? Were you dealing with that chick at the restaurant or something? I saw how you looked at her, when she introduced her girlfriend, and it didn’t feel right.”
“Does it make a difference if I was?”
“Yes. I mean, you never told me you were into chicks.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not into chicks.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Judah, I want to suck your dick, and you won’t let me,” I yell. “I have a problem with people not letting me do things that I want to do. Back in the day I was use to being denied, but I don’t like being denied anymore. Now I know a rack of niggas who will give me what I want if I say the word. So what the fuck do you want to do?”
The look he gives me stops my heart, but he does what I’m asking for. His body lowers over my face and at first I’m scared. All I see is a hairy yellow chest, and a big dick coming at me quickly.
I open my mouth, and he stuffs his dick into my throat. His hairy stomach strokes against my nose, but I don’t mind. I don’t care about myself right now. I can taste his salty pre-cum trickle down my throat, before he takes the back of my head, and pumps in and out of my face like it’s a pussy. My mouth is stuffed with vanilla colored dick, and I’m taking it like a pro.
When he’s about to cum, Judah grabs my hair, and pushes deeper into my throat. I feel myself gagging on his meat stick but I don’t tell him to stop. Tears puddle in my eyes, and roll back toward my ears. And, I think about the question Carissa asked me earlier about me being in love. No. I’m not in love.
“Open your mouth wider, bitch,” Judah says waking me out of my thoughts. “I’ma give you what you want. A jaw full of nut.”
I open my mouth so wide; my lips feel like they’re going to split in the corners. I massage his meaty ass cheeks, until I can feel his vein pulsating against my tongue. When I feel his thick warm milk gush down my throat, I smile.
But you know what? After all of this face fucking, for some reason, I still can’t get Chris, or that bitch she was with out of my mind. So that means one thing, Lace has to go. I don’t want Chris to love anybody unless it’s me.
Sorry, Chris. If I can’t be happy, you can’t either.
CHAPTER 11
CARISSA
I’m sitting on the living room floor, with my back leaned against the sofa. Between my thighs is a broken mirror, and the remnants of three lines of coke I snorted earlier. I’m feeling good. Really good. My left nostril tickles a little, and a small stream of blood oozes out of it, and falls onto my breastbone. I smear it away.
I know Yvette and Mercedes would never approve of my choice of high, so I do it alone, in the pleasure of my home. When my youngest daughter Treasure is with her friends, and I am depressed or lonely, this makes everything better. I’m not like some of them chicks who don’t know how to stop, I just don’t want too. That’s why I miss Kenyetta so much. She was the one person who let me be me, and didn’t try to change me. We use to snort bags of this shit together, and now she’s dead. What a waste of a real bitch.
I’m feeling extra horny, so I’m about to play with my vi
brator in my bedroom. I crawl on my hands and knees, and move toward my bedroom, until my doorbell rings.
“Who is it?” I call from the floor.
“It’s me, ma. Open up.”
My eyes pop open, and I jump off of the floor. Am I hearing things, or is that really Persia’s voice? I push the mirror under the sofa with my big toe, and my foot accidently gets cut. Blood pours out of my toe, and I rub it against my cream carpet. Fuck it. I’ll get a new rug. There is nothing more important than spending this time with my daughter.
I dust myself off and rush toward the door. Kind of paranoid, I look out of the peephole. I want to make sure she is not with one of them crazy Klan members. I see Persia standing on the other side wearing a cute baby blue velour jumpsuit. I quickly unlock and open the door. I pull her toward me in an embrace. “I can’t believe you are here. You’re home.”
She looks me over. Suspiciously. “I do have to go back to the compound, ma. Don’t get all extra sentimental and shit. We not like that.” She looks inside. “Where Treasure?”
“She over Bria’s house. Why?”
She walks inside, and I close and lock the door behind her. “No reason. Just asking I guess.” She sits on the sofa. When I see the baggie of coke next to her foot, I walk over to her, and kick it under the sofa, before she sees it. “Why is blood on the floor, your foot and chest? It looks like a crime scene in here.”
“I must’ve cut myself.”
She shakes her head. “What’s really wrong with you, ma? You still snorting that shit?”
My eyes widen. “What you talking about?” I frown.
“Stop the games, ma. Everybody knows that you and auntie Kenyetta was hoovering that shit. They called ya’ll the Powder Puff Girls around Emerald City and everything. Use to fuck with me when I was at school too. I hated it.” She looks like she wants to cry. “Anyway, it’s cool though. The best thing about being a kid is that you eventually grow up, and move out.”
I’m mortified. “I’m sorry they use to bother you at school, Persia. But I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t snort nothing but air.”
“Ma, you sound stupid.”
“Persia, I’m just glad that you’re here.” I sit next to her. “So what’s going on? I thought you weren’t allowed off of the compound without authorization.”
“That rule only applies if you aren’t fucking the leader’s son,” she says smacking her lips.
My heart breaks. “Are you telling me that you are having sex while you’re pregnant? Persia, you gotta slow down. You can hurt the baby.”
She giggles. “Ma, just because I’m baking a bun, don’t mean I can’t have a little fun. If anything I’m hornier now, since I'm pregnant. Don’t worry though, I ain’t do nothing yet. It would be nice to be with my child’s father but aunt Mercedes fucked that up for me and C.”
“Persia,” I yell. “What is wrong with you these days? Why do you talk to me like I’m not your mother?”
“You need only look at yourself to answer that question. Why should I give you respect, when none is given? You fucked me and Treasure up in the head, ma. Real good too. I don’t know why you think you get to have the dream children because of it.”
She crushed me with one swipe of her tongue.
“Did you talk to aunt Mercedes?”
“Yes I did.”
“Did you curse her out?” she grins, rubbing her pregnant belly. “For disrespecting me, and your future grandbaby.”
“Something like that,” I respond.
“I should’ve known that you would be too weak to do what should’ve been done.” She shakes her head. “You have allowed Mercedes to run everything you do. Even this beef with the Black Water Klan started over some girl that Mercedes’ son was fucking. This is all her fault, and I wish you could just see that, ma.”
“So now he’s Mercedes’ son? I thought you referred to him as The Great C.”
“You know what I mean.” She pouts. “Had C not been so jealous that Tamir had fucked his girl, the war would not have started with ya’ll and them. It seems like Mercedes and her family is not happy unless they’re getting what they want. Everything is all about them. I’m just sorry that you aren’t smart enough to see it.”
“Persia, let’s focus on us,” I say. “Leave Mercedes out of it. You’re not going to be here too long, and I want us to spend this time together.”
Suddenly Persia breaks out crying. My heart tugs when I see her tears fall on her sweat suit and make dark raindrops on her belly. What a bitch I am. I’m always talking about Mercedes hurting my daughter’s feelings, and here I am doing the same thing. So I move closer to her, pull her into my arms and rock her softly. How I use to do when she was a baby. A little baby, smelling of baby powder and lotion.
She cries into my chest and her pregnant belly presses against mine. “Persia, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I really didn’t. I just don’t want you to think so long and hard about Mercedes. Everything will be okay, I promise.”
“But it’s mostly her fault that I ran away, mommy. All of this is her fault.” She’s crying so hard now that she’s stuttering. “I-I felt like you weren’t t-taking my side,” she continues. “I-I love you, mommy. I really do. B-but if you are going to keep Mercedes in your life, I guess I’ll have to move on with my new family, and I’ll never see you again. At least I know they love me.”
“Persia, that isn’t a family over there. You can’t trust them people. I know I haven’t been the best mother in the world, but I love you and Treasure with all of my heart. I need you to understand that.”
When her phone dings, she sits up straight. Amazingly, the crying stops like someone turned off a water faucet. She wipes the tears from her face like it was nothing to begin with, and removes the cell phone from her purse. It’s a text message, and from where I sit I can read it.
‘BWK BULLETIN. Please report to the compound immediately. There is an emergency within the family.’
Persia stuffs the phone into her purse and hops up. “I have to go, ma.”
I stand up too. “Is everything okay? Do you need me to come with you?”
“No, but I need you to remember what I said. If you want a relationship with me, you gotta choose me over Mercedes. I’m sorry, ma, but I just don’t feel safe around her anymore. And if I can’t feel safe, I can’t be around you. Bye.”
CHAPTER 12
MERCEDES
I’m in Bells and Diamonds, a full service wedding planning company with Carissa. I’m looking at a model wearing one of the ‘Matron Of Honor’ dresses Yvette chose for me. I don’t know why, but for some reason I hate everything about it. I don’t know if it’s because the model’s body is frumpy, or if it is the design itself. It may even be because since we first got here Carissa, has been yapping my head off non-stop about Persia.
“You should’ve heard her,” Carissa says sitting next to me. “She said if I don’t stop dealing with you, then we won’t have a relationship.”
I turn around to face her, and I can tell that this bitch is really serious. We have been friends forever. We’ve gone through things that most friends will never have to deal with in their lifetime. Carissa is my sister, and as much as we fight I love her. Yet she’s coming at me with this shit.
“Carissa, are you asking for permission not to be my friend?”
“What?” she giggles. “Of course not.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I don’t know what I’m saying,” she says out of breath. “I just want my daughter to be happy. I want us all to get along, if nothing else for the baby.”
“Can you try the other dress on please, I don’t like that one,” I tell the model.
“What’s wrong with it?” the model asks me.
This chick got me confused with one of her little friends. “Bitch, take the fucking dress off and put on another one.”
When she leaves I focus on Carissa. “I’m not going to l
ie, with everything you throwing at me, Carissa, I’m starting to get a headache. We’ll talk about Persia later.”
She sighs. “Okay.” She looks at the bride’s maid dresses in front of her. “Why didn’t Yvette ask me to be the Matron of Honor? Why I gotta stand next to Judah’s cousins and shit? She don’t even know them like that?”
“Do you really have to ask me why I’m the Matron of Honor? I mean, it ain’t like you not in the wedding.”
“I’m asking. Why she pick you and not me?”
“First off you should be asking her. Second of all don’t act like you not familiar with the hierarchy of our friendship. It has always been me and Yvette and you and Kenyetta.”
“I know, but Kenyetta is gone,” Carissa replies. “And now I feel like I don’t have anybody to rap to about my problems. I mean you got Yvette and Toi, but it seems like nobody wants to be around me. It’s like if I’m not talking shop, ya’ll don’t want to hang out.”
“That’s not true.”
“So you didn’t go over Yvette’s house the other day to have dinner with her and Judah?”
I clear my throat. “Yes but—”
“She didn’t say shit to me about it, Mercedes. I ain’t been over her house since I fought you.”
“You mean since I fought your ass.”
“We both fought each other,” Carissa replies rolling her eyes. “As a matter of fact, I didn’t hear anything about the dinner until she told me how much fun ya’ll had. It’s like I’m not a part of the clique anymore.”
“That’s not true,” I say. “You know, ‘Vette loves you very much and I do too. She wants you around.”
Oh my God she’s getting on my fucking nerves with all this sentimental shit. She’s so whack sometimes. If she didn’t want you to come, so what?
“But it’s how I feel, Mercedes. Don’t you see, I’m calling out for help right now? I feel alone.”
I sigh. Truth is I do hate being with Carissa sometimes. She’s whiny, she’s annoying and I have a feeling she’s still on coke. She thinks somebody stupid, but I’m far from it. Me and ‘Vette talked about it while we were cooking dinner, before Judah came over the other day. I’m not with the coke shit. I mean, why would I want to ride with someone who moves like that in the world? I love her, but I prefer to do it from a far.