by Chunichi
Touch greeted me as soon as I walked out the bathroom. “Jewel, come over here. I want you to meet someone. This is my boy, Calico.”
I almost swallowed my tongue as I looked at the person before me, realizing it was the guy I’d seen near the nail shop earlier in the day. “Hello. Nice to meet you. I’m Jewel.”
I extended my hand, and this flawless man before me grabbed my hand and kissed it. “Hello, beautiful. Same to you.”
I only prayed that I didn’t look as drunk as I felt. I cut my eyes in Touch’s direction to say, “Help.”
In his best drunken mannerism, Touch tried his best to find out what was wrong. “Jewel, are you feeling okay? Do you need to sit down or something? You look crazy.”
“Shut up,” I said softly between clenched teeth as I got comfortable on the bar stool to his right.
Touch directed his attention to his friend that sat on his left. I couldn’t believe my luck. I didn’t know what to do. I wanted this man, but I was so drunk, I hadn’t a leg to stand on.
I snatched out my cell and sent a mass text message to all my girls. I had a special distribution list for emergencies just like this one. I needed some advice, and fast. I sent them a quick message that read:
OMG grls I need hlp! I’m drunk & there’s a dude here I’m tryn 2 impress. Wht do I do? Dnt wnt 2 make fool of self.
It took less than a minute before the responses started rolling in. The first text received was from Sasha. It read:
Do nothing. Leave. Guys come dime a dozen. U got enuff on the team. Besides, I need 2 c u neway.
I thought to myself, Typical response. That’s why you home with the broke-ass boyfriend right now.
I went to delete Sasha’s text just as fast as I had opened it, but before I could even hit the erase button, she sent another message:
Ur @ a bar every1 is drunk. Just go talk 2 him. He’s prob drunk 2.
That was two strikes.
The final text was from my girl Shakira. I prayed this was the answer.
Is he there w/friends? If so u have 2 stall. Drink a RedBull and order food 2 try 2 sober up then talk to him. Or on ur way out have waitress send him a drink and your #.
Finally, some advice I could use. I began to text Shakira back when Touch grabbed my phone.
“What you so busy doing over here?”
“Nothing that concerns you. Now can you kindly give me my phone back, Touch?” I reached for my phone.
“Nah.” He put my phone in his pocket then stood up.
“Damn, you that drunk just off two drinks?” I said, observing how childish he was acting.
“Hell nah,” he said loud enough for his friend to hear as he headed to the men’s restroom. “I had two more shots while you were in the bathroom.”
I noticed his friend was laughing. “That’s so not true.”
While Touch was in the restroom, his friend came over to chat with me.
“Oh shit,” I said to myself as he came over. I didn’t get the chance to order a Red Bull. I saw an unopened can sitting in front Touch’s stool, so I grabbed it, opened it, and took a big gulp.
“I didn’t catch your name,” he said as he sat next to me.
“I didn’t throw it,” I snapped back. What a corny response, I thought. I need another gulp of Red Bull.” I felt like an idiot as I took another gulp, nearly finishing the whole can.
“Well, you may want to throw it, because I don’t wear the catcher’s mitt for too long,” his friend said, completely throwing me off.
Hold up? I know this nigga ain’t coming out his mouth sideways. Does he think he’s flier than me or something? “Excuse me,” I said, trying to make sure the liquor didn’t have me tripping.
“I’m saying. I’m not the type to chase a broad—”
“Broad? You obviously don’t know who the fuck I am. Please, baby, check my resume. I don’t wear the ‘broad’ title, boo. But since you think you’re fly, let me kick something to you. Yeah, no doubt, I was interested; I was even gonna put you on the team. But you wasn’t even gonna be the star player, baby. Sad to say, you were gonna ride the bench. But don’t worry, I would have pulled you off when another nigga was injured—well, his pockets, that is.” I looked at him like he was a lil’ bitch then pulled out my American Express Black card.
I then called for the waitress. “You can wrap the tab up, baby,” I told her. I handed her the card then gave Touch’s friend a condescending smirk.
Just then Touch walked up. I don’t know if it was the fumes rising from my head that sent that nigga a smoke signal or if he saw tears in his boy’s eyes, but as soon as he walked up, he could tell something was definitely wrong.
Touch stood beside me. “What the fuck going on, bay?”
“Ask your disrespectful-ass friend.” I looked his boy straight in the face.
“Gotdamn, Calico, what the fuck you say to her?”
“Man, it’s this area. I can’t kick it with these East Coast bitches. They just don’t see it the California way.”
“What the fuck he say ’bout me?” I asked, when I heard him say California.
“Is your name California?”
“Yes, the fuck it is.”
Touch noticed the stupid-ass look on his boy’s face. “Yeah, it is, for real, man. California is her first name. She just go by Jewel. Look, I’m ’bout to order another round. Everybody cool out and have a drink,” Touch suggested, assuming liquor was the answer to everything.
“Let me get this one. What you having, Miss California Jewel?” Calico said, offering me a truce drink.
“I don’t accept drinks from people I don’t know,” I said with a slight smile.
He began to say, “I’m sorry—”
“Oh, I know you sorry . . . sorry-ass nigga.” I just had to take that. I owed him one. “I’m joking, sweetie,” I said, seeing the winkles of disapproval in his forehead. “Okay, let’s start from the beginning.”
“I’m Calico,” he said as he extended his hand.
Now just being a spoiled-ass little bitch for the hell of it, I folded my arms and refused to shake his hand. I wanted to be sure I had the upper hand.
“Come on, don’t do this to me,” he begged.
I still refused, pushing it a little further.
“Yo, you just make a nigga wanna . . .” He paused and took a deep breath, as though he was trying to refrain from doing something terrible. Then he added, “You just make a nigga wanna hug your little ass,” then grabbed me tight.
Totally surprised by his actions, we all laughed together.
Damn, I’m glad this nigga hugged me and didn’t haul off and hit me, I thought, realizing I would have been caught totally off guard and probably knocked the fuck out.
Now that things were back on track, I figured I’d better wrap things up. I needed to get his number and get the hell out of dodge. I started a little small talk as I waited for the perfect time to execute.
Meanwhile, Calico ordered a round of Cuervo 1800. The last thing I needed was another drink, but I didn’t want to take the risk of insulting him by turning it down. So, on the count of three, we all tapped glasses and threw the drinks down.
“Okay, that’s it for me, fellas,” I said as I attempted to stand up.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Calico grabbed my purse. “Friends don’t let friends drive drunk,” he said between laughs.
“Whatever! I’m not your friend, so it’s okay to let me drive,” I said sarcastically.
“Damn, are you always this vicious or just when you’re drunk?” Calico asked.
“I’m a Scorpio, baby. We never stop.”
“Well, Scorpio, I’m not letting you drive. I’ll take you home.”
I looked at Calico from head to toe. I thought back to the first time I’d seen him. Boy, you just don’t know. If you came home with me tonight, you’ll be handing over the keys to your Benz tomorrow. As horny and drunk as I am, who knows the tricks I would turn tonight? My thoughts were interrupted
by Touch’s call.
“Jewel, come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulled my hand with his right hand, and my purse sat comfortable on his left wrist, just like it belonged there.
Calico followed behind us as we walked to my truck. Touch unlocked the door and threw my purse and cell phone on the driver’s seat.
I climbed in the passenger side and began to fumble with my iPod as I waited for him to gather some things from his car.
“Oh shit,” I yelled as Calico tapped on my window, nearly scaring me to death.
He opened the door. “Let me see your phone.”
I reached over and grabbed my phone from the driver’s seat and handed it to him without hesitation. I’d been a bitch enough for the night. Now it was time to settle down and handle business.
Calico entered and stored his number, called his phone, then handed me my phone back. “Can I get a call tomorrow?” he asked.
The words, “You sure can,” slurred from my tongue, as my head began to spin.
“Cool. Have a good night, sweetie.” Calico buckled me in and closed the door.
Touch hopped in and gave Calico a wave as we pulled out of the parking lot.
As quickly as we pulled out, I was knocked out. When I opened my eyes we were in front of my home.
“Come on, drunken monkey.” Touch dragged me from the truck and into the house.
As soon as I opened the door, I was met by a ringing house phone. My head still spinning, I couldn’t make it past where Touch had laid me on the couch.
Touch grabbed a pillow and blanket for me and placed the pillows beneath my head, and the blanket over my body. “You need anything?” He grabbed a Heineken from the refrigerator and popped it open.
I noticed my cell phone was now ringing off the hook. “My purse.”
Touch passed me my purse then headed to my bathroom to relieve himself yet again.
By the time I’d pulled my phone from my purse, I’d missed the call. I looked at my list of missed calls. I had ten missed calls, seven from Sasha, and three from a private number that I was sure was Sasha as well. Damn! I forgot to give her that money I promised. I immediately called her back.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sasha said as soon as she picked up.
“Cut this bullshit right now. I’m drunk,” I snapped back.
“Obviously,” Sasha stated. “When are you going home?”
“I am home.”
“I’m on my way,” she said, as though I’d invited her to come over or something. Then she hung up.
Touch sat an empty garbage can next to me and finished up his Heineken. “You straight?”
“Yeah, I’m good. Sasha is on her way.”
“Good. ’Cause ol’ girl is blowing my phone up. I’m out, bay.” Touch gave me a hug then set the alarm to the house and locked the door behind him.
“You stink!”
I thought I was dreaming, until I opened my eyes to a tiny blurred butter pecan five-foot frame with curly hair that stood before me. As my vision cleared, I saw Sasha standing in front of me, her hands on her hips. Not wanting to be bothered with her nonsense, I immediately grabbed my purse and pulled out my wallet. I didn’t say a word to her as I counted the cash in my purse. Seeing that I only had three hundred in cash, I pulled out my checkbook.
“Uh-uh.” Sasha shook her head. “Don’t write me no check.”
“All I got is three hundred on me, Sasha. I figured if you came all the way out here in the middle of the night, you would expect to leave with the entire amount.” Personally, I figured it wasn’t that serious and she could have waited until the next day.
I guess she thought the same thing when she replied, “I’ll just get it tomorrow,” and then walked into the bathroom.
I could hear the water running from the bathtub faucet shortly after. Sasha yelled from the bathroom, “Who the hell been here?”
“How the hell you get in here?” I answered with a question, realizing I didn’t let her in.
“I used the spare hidden beneath the rock. Now back to my question, please.”
“And the alarm?”
“One, two, three, four. You use the same pass code for everything, bank account pin number, voice mail, alarm.
I mumbled loud enough for Sasha to hear, “Umph. Note to self, change all pass codes tomorrow, especially voice mail.”
“Jewel, I know a nigga been here. So who was it?” she asked again.
“Why?”
“I know you ain’t bring that nigga home from the bar.” Sasha walked back into the living room.
“You think you know so fucking much, don’t you?” I sat up on the couch and headed into the bathroom.
Sasha was right on my heels. “So who was it, Jewel?”
“Gotdamit! It was Touch.” I realized Sasha wasn’t gonna let it rest. “Is this for me?” I touched the water that filled the bathtub to test the warmth then turned the faucet off.
“Yes.”
I got undressed and slowly stepped in the steaming hot water. Once I got comfortable in the tub, I rested my head against the bath pillow and closed my eyes.
A few minutes later Sasha returned. She reached over me and grabbed the shea butter body wash and loofah sponge. She lathered the sponge and began to wash my body.
Five minutes later I was rinsing the soap off and wrapping my bath up. I dried off, threw on a robe, and gave my teeth a much-needed brushing, and rinsing with Listerine. Now it was definitely time for bed.
I walked into the bedroom and took off my robe, sliding in bed beside a naked Sasha, who wrapped her arm around me and began licking the lobe of my left ear.
I grabbed her arm and gently placed it beside her and rolled over. I did it for a few of reasons. One, I was drunk as hell and not in the mood. We had gotten down like this once before, and it was good, but I really didn’t prefer the girl-on-girl thing. And, two, I was no trick. I didn’t need a fuck to give her that money she asked for.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Go to sleep, Sasha.”
“Go to sleep? Do I look like a child to you?”
“No, but sometimes you act like one.”
Sasha had turned me off from the time she’d walked in the door, not to mention how she irritated me with this whole quit-my-career job-to-take-up-dancing decision she’d made earlier in the day.
I’d first met Sasha about a year and a half ago. I had gone with one of the niggas from my team to the club she happened to work at. It was time for her act as we walked in. She was sexy and turned me on. Our eyes were locked on each other her entire performance.
When she was done with her set, she came over, and we talked for a while. She even gave my dude a lap-dance. When I was getting ready to leave, she wrote her cell phone number on a napkin and gave it to me, telling me that I could call her anytime.
I always tried to take a picture of a new person I was putting in my phone, so I know who’s calling. When I asked her to pose for the picture, she turned around and bent down, showing me her thong and fat ass. I laughed at the gesture, took the picture and then gave her my number. The next day, she called me and invited me to come to the mall with her. The rest is history.
When I’d first met her, everything was cool for a while, but it seemed like the more I learned about her and the closer we got, the more she turned me off. And this particular night, her mouth was really pushing me over the edge.
Sasha sat up in the bed and began to yell, “What? Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?”
“You notice you’re the only one yelling? You might want to bring it down a couple of notches and stop cussing at me.” I constantly had to remind Sasha to watch the way she talked to me. Besides being with a tired-ass man, her anger was her biggest downfall.
Sasha let out a big sigh and flopped back down on the bed. I could hear her sniffles, a true sign she was crying.
Fuck! Now I got to kiss this bitch ass! “Why you crying, Boobie?” I rolled o
ver and pulled her close to me.
“I’m just so stressed-out. I know you don’t deserve to be talked to like that. You never cuss or yell at me. You’re always so calm no matter how much I go off. I’m sorry, Jewel.”
“It’s all good,” I said, although deep down inside I really wanted to tell her about herself.
“That’s why I love you.”
Sasha rolled on top of me and kissed me passionately, her kisses traveling from my lips to my breast and ending with an explosion between my thighs. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered in my ears and wiped my wetness from her lips.
Chapter 2
“Truth Be Told”
Sasha
“Jewel, your phone,” I mumbled, bothered by the constant ring of her house phone. She didn’t even budge as I sat up in the bed and looked around the room for the cordless phone.
My first thought was the nightstand. “Nope, not there,” I said to myself as I continued to search. The phone wasn’t on the cradle, but I could hear it was near. I noticed the time as I glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was nine o’clock in the morning. Who the hell would be calling Jewel so persistently and so early on a damn Saturday?
Shit never seemed right from the night before, so I made it my business to find out who was calling. I got out of the bed and followed the sound of the ringing phone. It led me to the walk-in closet. I opened the closet door and saw the phone sitting on top of some shoeboxes.
I shook my head as I picked the phone up. For a chick that always complained she didn’t have shit to wear, she surely had an overflowing closet. I shuffled through a few pair of jeans that still had the tags on them, two hundred thirty dollars was the cheapest pair. Hell, that was about how much I owed on my past due phone bill.
As I walked out the closet, I scanned through the caller ID to see who had been calling all morning. I flipped to the last person that called and stopped there. The caller ID read: Griffith, Shakira.