by Silhouettes
I sighed, not knowing whether to believe Raylo. Mama was so good at doing shit like this, but something wasn’t right this time. “Did she say anything about me? Or what to tell me if I called?”
“She was fussin’ about you not bringin’ her those cigarettes, and said if you called to tell you she’d get at you some other time. That’s it, Prince. I don’t know what else to tell you. As soon as she calls me, I’ll let you know. Right now, I gotta get back to my game. I’m at the pool hall and the fellas are waitin’ on me to take my shot.”
Raylo hung up, but I wasn’t satisfied with what he’d said. I went next door to the neighbors, asking if they’d seen Mama or if they’d heard anything. Mr. Brown was an old-ass man who lived next door. We didn’t get along, nor did he and Mama. But he was nosy, and if anybody saw anything going wrong in the neighborhood, it would be him. He was watering his grass, or should I say mud, trying to get some grass to grow.
“Say, Mr. Brown,” I said, stepping up to him. “I’m lookin’ for my mama. Have you seen her around lately?”
“I ... I think I saw her outside a few days ago. She was with another young lady. They got in a car and left.”
“Had you seen the woman before? And what kind of car did they get into?”
Mr. Brown paused before answering. “I think it was one of those fast cars. Camaro or something like that.”
I pointed to my car. “Like that one? Was it like that one?”
He scratched his head while looking at my car. “Yeah, that’s it. It was that one, because I remember that thing hanging from the rearview mirror.”
I thanked Mr. Brown, realizing that he didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. Mama didn’t know anybody who drove a car like mine, and as far as I knew, none of her friends had a Camaro. I went to another neighbor’s house. Her name was Pat, and even though she wasn’t old as Mr. Brown was, her ass was on drugs. She was always outside, trying to see if she could hook up something. She was sitting on the porch smoking a cigarette when I walked up to her.
“Ay, Pat. Have you seen my mama around here lately?”
Pat blew smoke in the air, then crossed her skinny and frail legs. “Nah, I ain’t seen her. But I’ve heard that big mouth of hers. She know she got a big-ass mouth and she be over there cussing yo’ daddy’s ass out.”
“That nigga Raylo ain’t my daddy. When’s the last time you heard her yellin’?”
Pat sat for a moment, looking to be in thought. “Shit, Prince, I ... I don’t know. A week ago ... maybe two. I haven’t seen her in several days, though, and she often stops by to get some cigarettes from me. It’s been a minute.”
“You say a week or two, but have you seen her this week at all?”
“Naw. But if you see her before I do, please tell her to bring me my twenty dollars she owes me. Maybe that’s why she ain’t been comin’ around. You know how people get when they owe you money. They ass get ghost.” She laughed, and quite frankly, I agreed. I thanked Pat for the unhelpful info, and started to walk away.
“Prince,” she said. I turned around, showing a bit of frustration on my face. “You lookin’ good as hell. Never knew you’d grow up and become such a sexy-ass young man, and if you ever want to get somethin’ goin’, let me know. I’m all yours. Tell Raylo to come see me, too. I need to get some of that, and he’ll know what I’m talkin’ about.”
I wanted to tell her not to do me any favors, but all I did was smile and kept on walking. I didn’t do crackheads, and even though Pat wasn’t a bad-looking woman, those drugs had her looking as if she were fifty instead of thirty-five. I went back inside of Mama’s house, hoping that she did leave with one of her friends a few days ago like Mr. Brown had said.
I stopped to use the bathroom, then went back into Mama’s bedroom to look around. I pulled back her thick comforter on her bed and moved her pillows around. I opened her dresser drawers, trying to find any clues as to where she had gone. I even checked the phone, flipping through the numbers on the caller ID and writing down some of the numbers so I could call them later. I came up empty in her room, then, just for the hell of it, I checked mine. Like the last time, nothing was out of place and my room still looked the same. I closed the door and went into the kitchen, checking the drawers, cabinets, and closet. Nothing jumped out at me, so I plopped down at the kitchen table. I rubbed my tired eyes, then turned the cap on my head backward.
“Damn, Mama, where are you?” I said out loud. “Shit!”
Everything in my gut was saying that something was wrong. My eyes shifted around the room, and that’s when I noticed a knife was missing from a knife set that had always sat on the counter. The only reason it jumped out at me was because Mama had pulled that knife out on me and Raylo plenty of times before. It was like her best friend, and she used it for protection whenever she got mad. Even when she was drunk and tripping, she’d always go for her knife and threaten to stab somebody with it. I got up from the table, looking everywhere that I could in the kitchen to find that knife. And nearly thirty minutes later, all I found, or should I say saw, was a dried bloodstain on her kitchen curtain. I held the curtain, trying to think if I remembered the stain being there. I hated to play detective, and even though I wanted to call the police to report her missing, I didn’t want no shit. They’d start questioning me about other things and I wasn’t about to set myself up like that. So, so far, I had the missing knife, the bloodstained curtain, and nothing else. That was, until I went into the living room and found something else. A handful of Mama’s hair was by the couch. She hardly evercut her own hair, and if it was cut, she went to the beauty shop to have it done. I suspected it didn’t fall out in a patch like the one I had in my hand, as this was odd. The way I looked at it, it was time for me to go confront Raylo man-to-man, because he obviously knew more than what he was saying.
I zoomed down Interstate 70, making my way to the pool hall that he frequented on Cass Avenue. I saw his Cadillac parked outside with several other raggedy-ass cars. I pulled the red double doors open and was hit with a song by Chuck Berry. The lighting was so dim I could barely see, but when I moved the hanging beads aside that draped beyond the arch-shaped doorway, that’s when I saw Raylo and several of his partners playing pool. Raylo was sitting on a stool with a Hershey’s Chocolate chick all over him. He was all smiles until he saw me coming his way. He couldn’t care less that he’d been caught cheating on Mama, and for years he had made it known that he wasn’t a one-woman man.
I stepped up to him, blocking his view from the pool table. “Questions,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “Why is my mama’s knife in the kitchen missin’? Why is there blood on her kitchen curtains? And how in the hell did she lose this much hair?”
I held the patch of hair in my hand, just so he could see it. He removed the dangling toothpick from his mouth and sucked his teeth. Before saying anything to me, he turned to the woman next to him.
“Bitch, move. I need to get at this young punk about disrespectin’ me and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
The woman gave him a kiss on the cheek before strolling away in a tight-ass dress that hugged nothing but rolls of fat. Her stench wasn’t nothing to play with, either. How dare this sucker disrespect my mama with such trash? That made me even madder.
“Now, I’ma give you every opportunity to come at me again like you got some sense, young blood. If you don’t, I will have to show you some of that shit I’ve been showin’ yo’ mama over the years. Maybe you will live and learn like she has; then again, maybe not. The choice is yours, and to quickly answer your question, nigga, I haven’t seen yo’ damn mama. I don’t know nothin’ about nothin’ and that’s all I’m goin’ to say.”
“Ray,” one of his friends yelled. “You all right?”
“Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle, Fred. Y’all go’n ahead and finish the game.”
I knew Raylo would say some shit to piss me off, and I also figured I would find myself in a fucked-up situation t
oday. That didn’t bother me one bit, only because, this time, I came prepared. “I ain’t got no beef with you, Raylo. All I want to know is where in the fuck is my mama? You say you don’t know, but I don’t believe you. I need to know what’s up, right now. I’m not goin’ anywhere until I find out. If you want to throw another one of your weak-ass punches, feel free. Just know that I’ll be back every damn day to question you about my mama until she shows up, or until I find her. So what’s it gon’ be?”
Raylo licked his crusty, thick lips, pressing them together. He stood and pulled up his pants, trying to intimidate me. He would always do that every time he got ready to put his hands on Mama. But when he looked down, he saw the tip of my Glock poking through my shirt. My hand was already on it.
“Let me repeat myself, before shit get out of hand and people start havin’ regrets,” he said. “As soon as I hear from yo’ mama, I will call you. I can’t explain no missin’ knife, nor any bloodstains on curtains that have been hangin’ for the past ten-plus years. Now, if you don’t want to be staggerin’ out of here with bullet holes riddled in you, I suggest you take this up with me later on yo’ turf, not mine.”
His eyes shifted behind him. I turned around, only to see about six of Raylo’s partners with their guns aimed directly at me. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, and taking out Raylo right now didn’t seem like the sensible thing to do. I put my cap on straight, lowering it a bit to cover my eyes. “You’d better hope she shows up. Make some calls, drive around ... do whatever you have to do to find her,” I said. “Time will eventually run out for you, Raylo, and one day it’s gon’ come down to just you and me.”
I turned, cutting my eyes at his partners who mean mugged me and showed no fear whatsoever behind my threats. All I could hear was Raylo laughing, and, as my back was turned, one of his partners came up from behind and put a gun to the back of my head. Yeah, I was scared, but didn’t let it show as he pushed me outside and slung me to the ground. He was every bit of 250 pounds, and when it came to going to blows with niggas that big, I opted to go for the legs. I charged at him, grabbing his legs and knocking him to the ground. His gun flipped out of his hand and he started pounding my back with his fist.
“Who, the, fuck, you, think, you, are,” he said with each pound. “Li’l nigga, I will kill yo’ ass!”
I tightened my body, trying not to feel the hard blows as we punched and tussled our way to the side of the building. I was straight up out of breath fighting with this dude, but I kept elbowing him in his midsection and pushing him against the brick-wall building. I had hoped to knock the breath out of him so I could somehow get at my Glock, which was still tucked into my jeans. But before I knew it, that fool had me in a headlock.
“Now what?” he said, twisting my head tight, trying his damnedest to break my neck. My ears felt as if they were being ripped from my head, but I kept elbowing the man as hard as I could in his stomach. I was trying to reach my gun while bent over, but my hands were so slippery that I couldn’t quite get a grip. And as hard as this fool was squeezing my head, I knew that I only had a matter of seconds before he broke my damn neck. Finally, I was able to remove my gun from my jeans, and I wasted no time blasting that fool in his leg. Immediately, he let go of me and staggered backward to the building. His face was scrunched while he squeezed his leg, attempting to stop the gushing blood.
I cocked the gun sideways, aiming it directly at his head. “Now, see what yo’ ass get? You had to be the brave one, but look at your sorry ass now.”
“We ... we good,” he said in a panic. “I ... I wasn’t gon’ hurt you, man. Just tryin’ to teach you a lesson, that’s all.”
I wanted to walk away; after all, I was doing my best to change my life around and stay away from all of the nonsense. But the whole thing with Raylo and Mama had my blood boiling over. For this nigga to inject himself in this was one big ... huge mistake. I stepped up to him and pulled the back of his hair that was in a two-inch nappy afro. I rubbed the tip of my gun against his lips, watching them tremble.
“You wanted to teach me a lesson, huh?” I said.
He quickly nodded as the sheen of sweat from his forehead started to trickle down his face. “Yeah, man. That’s all. No hard feelings, all right?”
I pushed the gun into his mouth, ordering him to suck on it. “Go ahead,” I said. “Lick the hole and taste it real good. Then, I’ma teach you a lesson.”
The man’s eyes bugged as he rolled his tongue on my Glock and licked the hole. As his mouth widened just a tiny bit, I pulled the trigger, watching his blood splatter. “The lesson,” I said, looking at his eyes that were now closed forever. “Don’t fuck with me again.”
I quickly jetted, feeling frustrated as ever and hating to go there. All kinds of thoughts were running through my head, but what I’d done to Raylo’s partner was in the back of my mind. I was concentrating on Raylo. It really didn’t make sense for him to do something to Mama, especially after all of these years. If he was going to kill her, he would have done so years ago. I had to believe that she was just mad at him and was taking it out on me too. Maybe she didn’t want nobody to get in touch with her, and if that was the case, I was gon’ get in her shit whenever I saw her again.
Before going upstairs to my apartment, I checked in at the laundromat to see how business was going. For a Sunday night, it was booming. It was only nine o’clock, and since I didn’t feel like hanging around and listening to the women gossip, I decided to come back later. I made my way to the elevator, but instead of going upstairs, I stopped at Francine’s door and knocked. It took a few minutes for her to answer, but when she did, she opened the door with a peach silk robe on. Her big breasts were damn near popping out, but she tried to tighten her robe to hide them.
“Can I come in?” I asked, already seeing the older man who was sitting in a kitchen chair behind her. I was known for popping up, and sometimes Francine would send me on my merry way, but sometimes she wouldn’t. She invited me in, introducing me to one of her many sugar daddies, James. He tossed his head back, then looked at Francine.
“I guess this means I gotta go,” he said.
“No hard feelings, James. Prince called about an hour ago and said he’d be here. I didn’t know you were stopping by. Had I known, I would’ve told you not to come.”
He stood, and without saying another word, Francine walked him to the door and he left. She closed the door, then picked up a cigarette that was already burning in an ashtray. “You gonna have to stop doing this shit, Prince. You be messing up my money, man, and James ain’t one I want to keep dissin’ like that.”
“My bad. I just stopped to see what you was up to. If I had known you had company, I would’ve kept it movin’.”
“That’s what you always say,” she said, blowing smoke into the air. She came over to me, as I was already sitting back on the couch. “What’s the matter? I can see the stress written all over your face.”
“No worries. Nothing that a good night’s sleep can’t cure.”
Francine put the cigarette out in the ashtray. She stood in front of me, then untied her robe so I could see just a sliver of her thickness. She rubbed her finger in the crevice between her breasts, then sucked her finger into her mouth. “Sleep ain’t the only thing that can cure the worried look in a man’s eyes. You know what else can, but you need to start doing me some favors too.”
I knew Francine was referring to me eating her pussy. I had never gone there with her, and she often complained. I wasn’t feeling her like that, and even though the pussy was good, it was good for my dick, and not so much for my mouth. I rested my arms on top of the couch and leaned back. “Are you gon’ start this shit with me again? I told you I don’t get down like that, ma, didn’t I?”
“That’s what you say, but I know for a fact you be going down on Jenay. She ain’t the kind of woman who would just settle for some dick, and with her, from what I hear, you gotta bring your A game. If you’re bringing it with h
er, you need to be bringing it with me as well.”
“I do bring my A game, but you need to know that I don’t go down on nobody like that,” I lied. Truth was, I had performed oral sex on Jenay, only because I liked having sex with her more than I did Francine. I just couldn’t get to Jenay when I wanted to, because she was always busy with her other woman. I’d missed out the other night and hadn’t heard from her since.
“I don’t believe you, Prince, but next time, I’ma let James take care of me instead of you. This is some bullshit and you know it.”
I shrugged, not mad at all. And once Francine unzipped my pants and saw how hard my dick was, she wasn’t too mad either. She dropped to her knees, and I scooted closer so she could serve me well. As she got busy with her hands and mouth, I reached out my hands to massage her thick breasts. Those suckers had to be filled with a bunch of milk, and were soft as ever. Her Milk Duds–sized nipples were the only things hard, and the more I teased them, the harder they got. After a while, I reached down to dip my fingers inside of Francine’s pussy. It was dripping wet. I could feel the creamy buildup already running down her legs. She was a nymphomaniac, but I loved every bit of it. That was, until she stopped sucking me and tried to maneuver us into a sixty-nine position on the couch.
“What did I tell you?” I asked with her pussy staring me right in the face.
“Come on, Prince. If I do you, what’s the big deal with you doing me?”
I didn’t want to mess up the mood by saying that the problem was she opened her legs to any nigga who desired to get in, but instead, I backed away from her. I stood up, stroking my own dick to keep it hard.
“Why you trippin’?” I asked in a polite manner. “You know I’ma make it good to you, and by the time I get finished, you won’t be thinkin’ about no oral sex.”