Captain Save a Hoe

by iiKane

  When they got to the room, Skye went straight to the bathroom and locked the door.

  Georgie knew that he had fucked up.

  The explosive Skye he understood, he could handle, if barely. But the quiet storm threw him off. The rest of the trip had been in silence. No matter what he said, she wouldn’t respond. Now, standing in the hotel room, he had to try once more because the whole room felt fed up.

  “Skye,” he knocked.

  No response. All that he heard was a buzz.

  “Ma, I know it seems like a big deal, but it’s not. It’s a fuckin’ piece of paper! I did it to make her a citizen; that’s it! That’s me… Super Georgie, right?”

  Still no response. Just the drone of the buzz. He knocked again.

  “Skye! Say something, Ma, please. I love you. Talk to me. What’s that noise?”

  He heard the door unlock, and when she stepped out, he knew what the buzz was. It had come from his clippers. She had shaved all her hair off.

  “Now you don’t have any power over me,” she said quietly, then turned and walked out of the door, barefoot.

  Georgie was so shocked that he couldn’t do anything but watch her walk out. He went into the bathroom and saw all her blue hair in the sink and sprinkled on the counter, looking like the cold of a warm summer day left behind. He put his hand in it and felt its softness then sighed, shaking his head as he looked at himself in the mirror.

  For the next few weeks, Skye took a hiatus from the film to do some tour dates. The director shot around her. During that time, Georgie didn’t talk to Skye, but he heard from her often. It seemed like she was everywhere, on the radio, on TV, in the newspapers, and all she wanted to talk about was her new love, her bodyguard, Boomer.

  “It just happened,” Skye exclaimed, with a girlish giggle as she was interviewed on MTV, snuggled up in Boomer’s lap. “I mean, he’s always been here for me and drew me like metal to a magnet.”

  Boomer looked like a Black man who not only hit the lottery, but was guaranteed all the fried chicken that he could eat for life. His smile was that wide.

  “What about Giorgio? So much has been said …”

  “Who, my hairdresser? As you can see, I don’t need him anymore,” she replied, with a cold, arrogant façade, her baldhead gleaming.

  Georgie had to admit that it looked good on her as he stared at the screen, shoveling coke like the city in a snowstorm, scarfing it with both nostrils.

  Everywhere that he looked, he saw Skye and Boomer, and he knew that was what she wanted, because in every picture, her eyes stared into the camera—through the camera, through the pixels, space and time—and looked dead into his eyes saying, I dare you to let go.

  Georgie’s reaction was a mixture of cold humor and sizzling rage.

  “I’ma kill this mother,” he chuckled, on fire.

  And in moments like that, he took it out on Niia’s body. He ravaged her whenever the combination of her breathtaking beauty, the euphoria of cocaine and his heart-stopping lust for Skye exploded within. In the elevator leading to the apartment, in her trailer on the set, the dressing room of the House of Bijan on Rodeo Drive, on the hood of the little red Corvette, he beat her pussy until his dick was raw and he had changed the sway in her stride. Now, she couldn’t help but walk nasty, and he couldn’t help becoming addicted to her.

  Sniff…sniff…sniff. “Ahh!” he grunted, shaking off the sting of the freeze as the Bolivian fish scale painted him the color of high. In the background—that is, on the other side of the harp playing in his head—he heard the sizzle of the shower, which always reminded him of frying bacon. Then a few minutes later, Niia emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her. Georgie stopped mid-sniff and looked at her as if she had two heads.

  “What are you doing?”

  She stopped, confused.

  “What?”

  “What you wearin’ that for?”

  Niia giggled.

  “Georgie, I cannot be naked all the time.”

  “Why not? That’s why we live in an apartment, not the park. Réduire,” he said, using the only French she had taught him that he had a use for.

  Niia seductively let it fall to the floor. Her cocoa complexion glistened, screaming to Georgie that it wanted to be licked. Their bed was big, round and only eight inches off the floor. She got down and crawled across it like a panther, coming up behind him as she sat and wrapped her arms around his neck. He continued to sniff. She looked down at the fluffy white powder.

  “It sparkles like diamonds. How does it make you feel?”

  “Like God,” he replied.

  Georgie knew that she had the curiosity of a precocious little girl. Everything about America was new and she asked endless questions. Therefore, he didn’t sense anything different about this one.

  He put the tray down and laid on the bed. She leaned on his chest, her hand on his heart.

  “Your heart beats different,” she noticed.

  “Huh?”

  “Regular people’s heart beats like boom – boom – boom – boom. Your heart beats like – like a drum.”

  Georgie smiled.

  “That’s ‘cause I’m made of music.”

  Niia laughed.

  “I’m serious Giorgio, is it that stuff? Maybe you shouldn’t do so much. It may, how you say, burn you out?” Niia remarked, her tone ending in a turned up inflection.

  He caressed her cheek and replied, “It’s better to burn out than to fade away baby.”

  She smiled and kissed his fingers.

  “What do you want for dinner?”

  He raised an eyebrow, mischievously snickered.

  “I mean food,” she replied exasperatedly, as if she wasn’t loving every moment of his attention.

  “Whatever you put in my bowl, I’ll eat; sit in it and see.”

  She got up to go to the kitchen. Georgie grabbed the coke tray and fell in behind her. He was sniffing and watching, sniffing and watching, sniffing and watching her ass jiggle like it was giggling.

  “Ma…can you have a more perfect ass? Is it even possible,” he marveled.

  “Giorgio stop, you’re embarrassing me,” she blushed as they entered the kitchen.

  “Listen, check this out,” he began, sitting the tray on the table, “I’m not saying I would, but if like we get a divorce, can I still come over and just look at your ass?” he cracked.

  Niia opened the refrigerator, bent at the waist and looked over her shoulder, just enticing a brother.

  “You divorce me? No.”

  “No visitation rights?”

  “No!”

  “No Christmas card with a picture of your ass on the front?”

  She threw her head back, laughing.

  “How you say, hell to the no!”

  “Fuck it, I guess you stuck with me then, huh?” he smirked.

  She put the steak that she had just removed from the refrigerator down and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I better be, because I’m falling in love with you, very, very fast and very, very much.”

  Georgie looked into her eyes and caressed her cheek.

  “In I is all you’ll ever need.”

  Her breath caught lightly in her throat, because she got it instantly. He had used each letter in her name to make his point.

  “No one has ever said my name like that.”

  “And no one ever will.”

  She kissed him passionately then replied, “I love being your wife.”

  “Your wife?!” Stephanie exclaimed loud enough to draw a few looks. But she was in her backyard, so she didn’t care.

  She was having a cookout for Memorial Day, so Georgie decided to use that time to introduce her to Niia.

  Stephanie turned to Niia.

  “Baby, it’s not you, it’s just so -” She was thinking so Georgie but she said “so sudden, and I wasn’t invited.”

  “Ma, it was a spur of the moment thing,” Georgie explained.

  S
tephanie glared at Georgie.

  “Niia, I love you honey, but let me talk to this nigga… Georgie for a second.”

  “Oui.”

  Stephanie all but grabbed Georgie and led him through the throngs of people, the music, laughter and smell of the grill. On the way, they ran into Denise and a man who looked like he might be a deacon in the church.

  “Georgie, heyyy! It’s so good to see you,” Denise sang, giving him a church hug. She stepped back. “I want you to meet my new husband, Harold. I’se married now!” she snickered, showing off her ring.

  Flashing a wedding ring in front of Georgie was like flashing red in front of a bull.

  What? You think you safe?

  “Nice to meet you,” Georgie remarked, shaking Harold’s hand.

  Pleasantries over, Stephanie cut in.

  “Denise, I need to speak to Georgie,” and without waiting for a reply, led him inside.

  More hellos and hugs ensued. But they finally made it upstairs into Stephanie’s bedroom. She slammed the door, turned to him and said, “Nigga, have you lost your mind? Married, Georgie?!”

  “Ma, listen…”

  “I knew something was funny when Skye called me and told me to tell you the IRS sent you a letter to the apartment in New York.”

  “The IRS?” he echoed.

  “Yes, Georgie, the government. You are paying taxes, aren’t you?”

  Georgie waved it off, dismissively.

  “I’ll get my lawyer on it.”

  “You better… I asked her, why you can’t tell him. She said, ‘I’ll let him tell you.’ So I know you fucked up, but I didn’t know you tore your whole ass!” she ranted.

  Georgie leaned against the desk and sighed hard.

  “You gonna let me talk or what?”

  Stephanie sat on the bed and folded her arms.

  “Talk, Georgie. Talk.”

  “Niia is from Africa. She just came over to do this movie. Her whole family is counting on her, but to keep working she has to be a U.S. citizen. The dude she was with was beating on her, so I like, kinda beat him up, so I knew he wouldn’t—so we flew to Vegas and got married. That’s it,” he explained.

  “That’s it? That’s enough!”

  “Ma, I did it for her family…mostly. It’s just a piece of paper; it’s no big deal!” he shot back.

  “Well obviously it’s a big deal to Skye that you have a whole wife. And this…Niia, why do you think she married you?”

  He shrugged.

  “Of course, citizenship is a part of it, but it’s not the only reason. I mean, it ain’t like she playin’ me or nothin’.”

  “And I bet you didn’t even tell Skye before you did it, did you?” Stephanie surmised, knowing her son. When he didn’t answer, she shook her head adding, “You’re so selfish.”

  “I’m selfish? Yo, I’m so tired of hearing that!” he bassed.

  “Because the truth hurts.”

  “It ain’t the truth. If I’m selfish for having the capacity to love more than one woman, how is that not selfish for wanting to be the only one?! Gimme, gimme, gimme all your love; mine, mine, mine! That ain’t selfish?!”

  Stephanie stood up.

  “No, that’s love Georgie, true love, which you obviously know nothing about!”

  “Not my love. And what makes theirs any truer than mine? When I’m with a woman, I’m with her, I’m loving her. I’m loving her smile, her laugh, her walk, her conversation, her smell…” he explained, but let his voice trail off. “I swear to God, I want that moment to last forever, but it can’t and life goes on.”

  “What if a woman told you that? When I’m with you, I’m with you, but I’m with him, too?” Stephanie questioned.

  Georgie shrugged with a chuckle.

  “That’s why I love the married ones.”

  Stephanie sat back down, shaking her head.

  “I hear you, player.”

  “Player? You of all people should know I’m not a player, Ma. I’m not out here lying to these women. Those dudes, they ain’t even players! It ain’t game when you gotta lie to keep a woman. Drop one off at eight, pick another one up at nine…or maybe fifteen minutes apart. That’s game! But I don’t ever run game, this is just me! I tell ‘em exactly what it is; hang if you can hang!” Georgie ranted, pacing the room furiously, his arrogance on full display.

  “So you think it makes it right because you’re honest about your bullshit?” Stephanie asked with an incredulous chuckle.

  He stopped, looked her in the eyes and replied, “I’m not interested in being right! I’m interested in being me.”

  Stephanie held up her hands in mock surrender.

  “Then that’s all I got to say. Just be careful you don’t love everybody…and end up loving nobody.”

  She stood up, came over and took him by the shoulders.

  “Well, you know your Mama love you regardless, unless you got another mama somewhere that carried your nappy headed ass for nine months and changed your shitty diapers,” she smirked.

  Georgie laughed and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Naw, you my only girl.”

  “Just checking. Well, let me go down here and meet my new daughter-in-law while I have a chance,” she signified with a chuckle, then added “and Georgie, see about that letter. The IRS does not play.”

  “I will, Ma.”

  She nodded and walked out. Georgie went to the bathroom then headed downstairs. He was just in time to see Denise coming through the patio door carrying two plates of food, one of which was for Harold who was in the living room playing bid whist.

  “Denise,” he whispered furiously, hidden from view by the hallway. She looked and saw him. He jerked his head in a gesture saying, come here.

  “Denise,” he stressed in a whisper, “bring your ass here!”

  She bit her bottom lip and looked at Harold, who had his back turned to her, unaware of the decision being contemplated behind his back.

  “Denise.”

  She sashayed quickly in Georgie’s direction. He opened the door, which led into the laundry room.

  This will do.

  He ushered her inside, then closed and locked the door.

  “Georgie, I can’t…”

  “Shhh, you come to talk?” he dimpled, sliding the plates from her hands, her tongue from her mouth, her pants from her hips and the objection from her mind.

  “Ohh, I’ve missed you so much,” she cooed as Georgie picked her up and sat her on the washing machine.

  The mischievous little boy in him turned it on, so it would jump and vibrate underneath her. He rammed his rock hardness into her throbbing pussy.

  “Ssssssssooooo,” she gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist and spurring him deeper.

  Her pussy was so wet that each stroke sounded like the smacking of hungry lips.

  “Oh Georgie, fuck meeee,” Denise squealed, the vibration of the washing machine adding a whole other tingle to her spine.

  “Tell me you love me!”

  “Oh I do, you know I do; goddamn I doooo,” she growled, through clenched teeth because she was so close.

  “Cum for Daddy.”

  “I’m cummin’ for Daddyyyyy,” she sang, spasmed, shook and slumped.

  Georgie let the spasm past then helped her down.

  “Lawd Georgie, I’m glad you don’t live here anymore,” she giggled.

  “Shit, I’ll be back Christmas.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Now remember, go put the plates in the microwave for sixty seconds, okay?” he winked.

  She nodded, started to walk out.

  “Hey,” he said.

  She looked back.

  “Lookin’ good,” he chuckled, slapping her on the ass.

  She sashayed up the hall.

  When Stephanie saw Denise come into the living room, wig slightly ajar, walk somewhat unsteady, then Georgie turn the corner grinning like a Cheshire cat, all that she could do was to shake her head, thin
king, Lawd have mercy, my baby goin’ straight to hell.

  “Okay Skye, this is the scene where you find out the new girl in school is trying to take your boyfriend,” the director explained.

  He was about Skye’s height, but shorter than Niia, and bore a striking resemblance to Spike Lee. And his name was Spike. He told Skye without a trace of irony, because he did know about the Bermuda Triangle of love that he was currently standing on Ground Zero in. Art imitates life.

  He turned to Niia.

  “Now Niia, Skye’s the most popular girl in school, and you’re trying to fit in. The boyfriend thing just … happened,” Spike explained, thinking that he was giving them their scene motivation.

  He walked away, putting his headphones on.

  “Okay, let’s get it. No mistakes, I wanna wrap this by lunchtime.”

  Everyone took their places.

  “And action.”

  Niia closed her locker. Skye was standing right there. The script called for Niia to be startled.

  “Oh, I didn’t see you standing there.”

  “Why? Did you blink? I bet you didn’t even blink, did you?”

  Skye’s words threw Niia off, because they weren’t in the script. Niia tried to stay in character.

  “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you before the party,” Skye started, leaning on the locker to square her stance.

  “What would you have said, what could you have said, huh? Tell me.”

  No longer able to stick to the script, Niia replied, “I – I never meant…”

  Skye breathed a chuckle.

  “Of course you didn’t…they never do. The wind blows in Kansas and Dorothy ends up in Oz, right? Problem is, those baby shoes don’t fit your foot Shug. So when he gets tired of you clop – clop – clopping around, ‘cause even I know you can’t strut in ‘em, then he’ll say, who is this imposter?! And then he’s coming home…believe me, he’s coming home,” Skye spat, with sass as sharp as the heel of a stiletto.

  The ironic part was that when Skye spoke of home, Niia assumed Skye was referring to herself. Her eyes bordered on tears.

  “I – I love him.”

  “Love him?” Skye echoed, looking her up and down like she was covered in slime. “You don’t even know him. What’s his favorite color?”

  Niia bristled.