For the Strength of You

by Victor L. Martin

  “I understand.” Fe-Fe smirked. “I understand quite well. Anshon ain’t kill him. Both y’all did!”

  Teck ignored her and continued bagging up his work.

  An hour later, Teck finished and said to Fe-Fe, who was serving a fiend and listening to All My Children, “I gotta roll real quick. I need to go and check my brother.”

  Fe-Fe nodded her head as Teck left out the back door.

  * * *

  It was ten o’clock in the morning. Anshon had just dropped Monica off for her morning classes at the community college. He started to run home, but then he decided to go by Fe-Fe’s and check Teck.

  “Yo, Fe,” Anshon called, rattling the screen on the front door.

  Fe-Fe didn’t hear Anshon announce himself, but she heard the door rattle. She ran to the front door hoping it was Teck. She’d been unable to sleep ever since she found a bloody ski mask tucked under her bed, along with five different IDs from people that she knew lived on the other side of Selma.

  I hope this nigga ain’t runnin’ no credit card scheme, she thought on her way to the door. Shit, if white folks locked Martha Stewart up, niggas can forget about it. It’s pretty much a wrap, ’cause in a moment, lynching gon’ be legal, so I know Teck got better sense than to be messing with white collar crime shit. He better stick to the nickel-and-dime state charges.

  “Teck,” she yelled, snatching the front door open. “What is this shit I found?” She held the ski mask out. When she saw Anshon was at the door, she quickly snatched it back. “Anshon,” she said, breathing heavy, “I thought you were Teck.”

  Anshon was so taken aback by Fe-Fe that he never noticed the mask. She was dressed in a tight white turtleneck that hugged her heavy breasts. Her nipples were hard, slightly poked out through her bra, causing the imprint to come through her shirt. She also had on a tight pair of Never Broke jeans that Teck had bought her.

  Anshon wanted to grab his dick. It was so hard that it was starting to ache. For the first time, Anshon knew that as long as she was sober, he could imagine fucking her.

  Fe-Fe turned her back to him. “Close the door behind you.”

  Immediately, his eyes went to her ass. He had no choice but to grab his dick. Her ass resembled a brand-new, pumped-up basketball.

  Fe-Fe sat down on the couch and Anshon went to sit next to her.

  “Where’s Teck?” Anshon asked, trying to cover up his hard-on as he sat.

  “Good question.” Fe-Fe reached over Anshon and grabbed the cordless phone, her 36-Ds brushing back and forth across his dick.

  She dialed Teck’s number and got no answer. “Fuck this. I was gonna cook, but ain’t no tellin’ when his ass gonna get here. Can you take me to McDonald’s right quick?”

  “Yeah,” Anshon said, standing up. He placed his hands in his pockets, hoping to somehow hide his hard-on again. “I can go for a few bacon, egg, and cheese biscuits . . . and some fries.”

  Fe-Fe went upstairs to get her purse and left a note for Teck that she went to McDonald’s with Anshon.

  “It’s cold as hell out here,” Fe-Fe said as she got into the Chevy. “I’ll be glad when it’s summertime.”

  “Me too,” Anshon replied. “I wonder if Teck and Wallo gon’ be selling them dinners again.”

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Fe-Fe said, looking out the window.

  Anshon took I-95 then rode it until he reached the rest stop. This McDonald’s was closer than the one in the center of town.

  They went through the McDonald’s drive-thru and twenty minutes later, they had the food and were back at Fe-Fe’s house. Teck still hadn’t returned.

  “How old are you?” Fe-Fe asked Anshon as they sat in the living room eating their food.

  “Twenty-two. Why?”

  “Just askin’,” she said, balling up the wrapper from her sausage biscuit. “Hey, I got another question to ask.” She took a sip of her Diet Coke.

  “Yeah?”

  “Let’s say . . . if you was to like . . . um . . . to meet me out of town and didn’t know me, would you step to me?”

  Anshon had a mouth full of food and quickly picked up his cup of Sprite to wash it down. “I’ma act like I didn’t hear that, Fe-Fe.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Fool, I ain’t tryin’ to do nothin’ wit’ you. I just wanna know if you would find me good to look at . . . that’s all.”

  “Oh . . . well . . . if I had never met you and didn’t knew your past . . . then hell yeah. I’d step to you with a quickness. Why you ask?”

  “’Cause your dick was hard when I reached over you for the phone earlier.” Fe-Fe smiled, pushing her wavy hair behind her ears.

  “You trippin’, Fe-Fe,” he said, removing the wrapper from his third biscuit. He peeked at her from outta the corner of his eye. He hated that she knew his dick was hard, but hell, ever since she’d been clean, she was something to look at. Five foot three, 36-26-38, 140 lbs. She was turning a lot of heads, and most, like Anshon, were ashamed to admit it. Fe-Fe was a coal-covered diamond that just needed to be polished, and Teck happened to be the only one to see that she was a rare jewel. Niggas that had tricked Fe-Fe knew how good the pussy was, and a few were now hating Teck because he had Fe-Fe on lock.

  He glanced over at Fe-Fe to see if she was still looking at him.

  “Let me stop.” She laughed.

  “A’ight.” Anshon stood to leave. “Tell Teck to call me.”

  As he went to step out the door, Fe-Fe called out his name. “Anshon, thanks for not puttin’ dirt on my name. I know you could have told Teck about me tryin’ to give you some ass that night when I was trickin’ with Bobby at Masters Inn. I know it was before me and him hooked up, but you know how it would look.” She hunched her shoulders. “Teck would start thinkin’ we up to somethin’.”

  “That’s the past, Fe-Fe, and you still cool wit’ me. Just have Teck call me when he get in.”

  “Okay.” Fe-Fe blushed, closing the door behind him.

  * * *

  A week had passed, and still no Teck. Fe-Fe was starting to give up on their relationship.

  She was cleaning her living room when she found a shitload of jewelry and more stolen IDs under her couch. What the fuck is going on here? she thought to herself.

  She was holding the jewelry in her hand when Teck walked in. She quickly threw it back under the couch. When she looked up, Teck was standing over her.

  “What you lookin’ for?” he asked.

  “Nothin’,” she snapped. “Where the fuck you been?”

  “Out!”

  “Well, since you been out, you can stay the fuck out! Nigga, I’m sick of y’all big-dick ma’fuckas that think you runnin’ shit. You ain’t runnin’ shit for me! Fuck you!”

  Fe-Fe was going off so bad that Teck couldn’t get a word in. “Wait a minute, Fe—”

  “No, you wait a minute, nigga. Punk bitch-ass, cripple-eyed ma’fucker!”

  “Look, I’m sorry, a’ight? Come on. I was buggin’. I should’ve called, but I didn’t.”

  “Nope.” She twisted her lips. “Not workin’! Plus, nigga,” she said, reaching under the couch and throwing the jewelry at him, “I’m finding more goddamn goods than drugs. What the fuck is really going on? You robbin’ niggas? You a stick-up kid?”

  “Hell no!” Teck snapped. “How the hell you just gon’ say some shit like that to me? Fuck it, Fe. If it’s that deep, fuck it. That’s my grandmother’s shit. I was hiding it under the couch because I was gon’ give it to you.”

  “Yeah, just like that fuckin’ bracelet you embarrassed the shit outta me with! Whatever, nigga. Whatever!”

  “A’ight, I see you done got clean and lost your fuckin’ mind. Remember I got you out the gutter. You ain’t shit but a tramp-ass trash! You just a squirrel try’na get a nut. I made you.”

  “Look at you, Orange Juice Jones wanna-be ma’fucker! You ain’t made me. If anything, I made your no-gamin’ ass. If the hustle was left up to you, you’d be in jail for a fuc
kin’ dime piece. You ain’t Federal weight yet, nigga. Ya better slow the fuck down, ’fo you get sprayed the fuck down!”

  “Sprayed? Oh, now you gon’ shoot me?” Teck couldn’t help but laugh. He was laughing so hard that before he knew anything, Fe-Fe was laughing.

  “Ain’t shit funny.” She pouted, folding her arms across her breast.

  Teck walked over and hugged her. “I’m sorry, Fe, for real. You gotta forgive ya man.”

  Fe-Fe looked at Teck and couldn’t help but to forgive him. She turned around and hugged him. He kissed her and she melted in his arms.

  Chapter 7

  Constance was in the back seat of her Mercedes, pulling up her satin panties after giving it up to her baby’s father, Wallo. They were parked in the bus parking lot behind a few school buses at Selma Middle School. When she was fully dressed, she slid over to him and kissed him deeply for close to five minutes.

  “A few more months and we can blow this place,” he said, zipping up his jeans.

  “I hope so. I’m sick of working at that prison,” she said, climbing up to the front seat. “Hey!” she giggled when he squeezed her butt.

  He got out and stretched his body then opened her front door to get his helmet. Again, she leaned over to kiss him before he left.

  She sat and waited until he got on his Ninja ZX-10R. “I love you,” she shouted over the roar of the motorcycle as he revved up the engine before doing a short burnout.

  * * *

  Teck came home at 10:38 p.m. to find Fe-Fe wide-awake on the couch, looking at TV. Before she could flip on him, he pulled out a handful of crumpled bills. “I been hustling all day.”

  “Yeah, right.” Fe-Fe sucked her teeth. “Where?”

  “In Durham. There’s this van that one of my homeboys told me about, and that’s where I was. Me and Wallo hopped this van and they took us to a spot to slang.”

  “Nigga, who is you talkin’ to?” Fe-Fe started laughing, “That shit you just said is crazier than a motherfucka. Ain’t nobody but five-O promisin’ niggas pipe dreams. Like I should believe that a goddamn van gon’ take you to slang.”

  “A’ight, Fe,” Teck said, realizing how ridiculous he was sounding. “You got that. I was just doing some things that I don’t wanna involve you in . . . but come on, boo,” he said, holding her close and kissing her neck. “Anything I do is for me and you.”

  “I’m pissed at you, boy!”

  “Why?” he twisted his face. “’Cause I been out draggin’ my ass for you? Other niggas stay out to two or three in the mornin’ and some don’t even come in at all. And it’s what”—He glanced at his watch—”ten forty-five and you trippin’. I coulda stayed wit’ some project chick in Durham, but I cut it short and brought my ass home to you!”

  * * *

  Anshon was on his knees, leaning forward, braced up on one arm as he used his other arm to hold both of Monica’s legs on the right side of his shoulder as he fucked her on her living room floor in front of the TV. Each time he drove into her, it sent her hands to a different part of his body: his neck, shoulders, chest, waist, wrist, ass. Over and over he sought to immerse his entire body inside her.

  She had already chanted out his name over a hundred times. It went both ways. He couldn’t get enough of her as he switched positions for the fifth time. Her nipples were already sore from his mouth.

  “Anshon!”

  “Monica!”

  They said each other’s names as she reached back to spread her ass open for him. The sight of her ass spread with her cheeks apart for him nearly caused him to explode in the condom. He held back and slowly slid back into her pussy.

  “Pussy . . . so . . . fuckin’ . . . good!” he said through clenched teeth as he watched her butt quiver like Jell-o. The rhythm had her pussy talking as she cried out his name in a feverish lust. Suddenly, they both felt the condom pop.

  “Ohhh, baby,” he moaned at the sweet feeling of being inside of her raw.

  She slowly slid off his dick then pulled the busted condom off. Her lips quivered as he rubbed his throbbing dick against her swollen labia. She fell to her elbows, arching her pussy higher in the air. Anshon flipped her over and placed his mouth back on her breasts as she reached down to mas-sage his dick. She could feel the blood throbbing through his veins.

  “Mmmmm, baby,” she cried as she crossed her legs over his back and pulled him inside her.

  Anshon lost all control as he started pumping her. Monica was talking and mumbling incoherently as Anshon drove deeper into her, causing their sweaty naked bodies to smack together.

  She moved his face toward hers for a passionate kiss. Each thrust made him pick up his speed. He came up on his arms, driving deeper, stronger, and harder into her sweet pussy until he exploded deep inside her.

  Anshon lost count of the number of times he nutted inside her once the condom broke.

  He couldn’t believe that he had slipped up and ate pussy till she glazed his face . . . not once, but twice. The only problem was when he was eating her pussy, he kept imaging that it was Fe-Fe’s clit he was sucking on. That made him grind his tongue faster, and not until he brought Monica to a triple orgasm did he realize that he’d been totally out of his mind.

  After sex, Monica and Anshon rolled over and went to sleep. They didn’t wake up until midnight, when Anshon’s phone started ringing. He reached over from the bed, hitting the button for the speakerphone.

  “Dawg, you up?” It was Teck.

  “Um, wassup?” Anshon said with his eyes closed.

  “You high or something?”

  “Pimp, please. Full night,” Anshon muttered, rubbing his neck.

  “Yo, I’m about to dip to Goldsboro with Fe-Fe. I’ma take ’er to the movies. She told me you wanted me to call.”

  “I was tryin’ to see what was up with you. Where you bounce to?”

  “I was just chillin’. Well, dawg, I’m out. Sound like you in the bed. I’ll holla.”

  As Anshon lay back down, the phone rang again. This time he snatched it off the receiver.

  “Speak to a pimp, nigga,” Anshon said, flipping his phone open.

  “Pimp? Nigga?” Tammy frowned. “Oh, hell no!”

  “Big sis!” Anshon sat up in the bed. “Wassup?”

  “I met a man, boy.”

  “For real?” Anshon smiled. “What’s his name and address in case I have to bust his ass?”

  “Be quiet.” She giggled. “His name is Victor. He’s a good guy. But look”—Tammy’s tone changed from silly to serious—“I hear it’s a lotta niggas getting robbed and shit in Selma, Raleigh, and Durham. Even Goldsboro. It’s time to give it a rest, Anshon. The South ain’t safe no more.”

  “What is you?” Anshon smirked. “Young Buck? The South ain’t safe no more, so what? Get a gun? Well, I got three or four!”

  If Tammy could have come through the phone and kick Anshon’s ass, she would’ve. “When are you going to learn that this hustlin’ shit is a dead end, huh? You save any money, Anshon? You have any cash in the bank? Or is Monica sportin’ every fuckin’ name brand in the world? Is the double wide that goddamn laid? Get out the game. Please, it ain’t worth it. Look at me. I’m still fighting. I can’t even take care of my kids without help.”

  “Oh, here you go with that bullshit. Tammy, ain’t nothin’ wrong with you. You met a man, didn’t you?”

  “Nigga, I met some dick.”

  “Tammy—”

  “No, be quiet, Anshon, and listen. I met a man, but what does that have to do with you being safe? Roll out, Anshon. Ma’fuckers is showin’ up dead all over the place. Niggas is gettin’ robbed.”

  “Being robbed don’t equal being dead,” Anshon snapped.

  “Anshon, don’t be stupid. All you gotta do is buck and you done.”

  “Anyway,” Anshon said, changing the subject, “how’s my niece and nephew?”

  Tammy wanted to come through the phone and strangle Anshon. She took a deep breath. “They’re fine. S
tarting to ask questions about their sorry-ass daddy. When I come back to Selma, I may just have to talk to him about seeing his kids.”

  “Tammy . . .” Anshon swallowed hard.

  “What?”

  “Tom-Tom . . . is dead.”

  She dropped the phone, and Anshon could hear her screaming in the background.

  “This is what I’m talking about! This is it! What! What! How?” she said, picking the phone back up. “Please don’t tell me that you . . . did it!”

  “What the hell? Please, Tammy. I’m not answering that.”

  “I gotta come home.” Tammy cried. “I need to see what I can find in my house; maybe some pictures or something for my kids. Maybe I can get by to see his mother. I know she’s torn up.”

  “Tammy.” Anshon sighed. “There was a fire.”

  “What? What does that mean?”

  “Your house was burned down. Everybody thinks that Tom-Tom did it.”

  “I’m on my way,” Tammy cried, hanging up the phone.

  Anshon hung up with Tammy, took a quick shower, slipped on his jeans, hoodie, and skull cap. He grabbed his heat and car keys.

  “Monica.” He nudged her a little.

  She cracked her eyes open. “Hmm.”

  “I’ll be back later. It’s some money on the dresser if you wanna go out. Otherwise, chill here until I come back. A’ight?”

  “A’ight, Anshon.”

  For some reason, Anshon’s heart was beating fast as he drove over to Teck and Fe-Fe’s. He wondered why Wallo was always missing in action whenever some shit went down, and his mind started to wonder if Wallo was throwing some salt in the game.

  And what about Tom-Tom, Anshon thought. What was that nigga talking about?

  Instead of heading down Lizzie Street, Anshon made a right into Redwood Village apartments to pay Constance a visit. When he pulled up, he saw Wallo’s motorcycle parked in her parking spot.

  “A’ight.” Anshon swallowed hard. “It’s all good, ’cause when ya get down to it, pussy is all the same.”