Thong on Fire

by Noire

  I played with my food a little bit and laughed when the baby, Kaz, threw broccoli chunks all around the room. Uncle Swag laughed too, rubbing his little boy’s head and reaching over to push some dry-ass turkey in his mouth. Aunt Ruthie acted like she was mad about all that food getting all over the floor, but I could tell she was fronting and felt real good about her little family.

  I couldn’t really blame her, neither. It was real warm and cozy up in their crib. Nothing like the life I lived with Kimichi and King.

  We were still laughing at the baby when Paris started rubbing her neck again and acting up just to get some attention. She grabbed her stomach, then made this funny noise and threw up all over the table.

  “Paris!” Aunt Ruthie hollered. Her and Uncle Swag jumped up at the same time. Aunt Ruthie got to Paris first and pressed a bunch of napkins to her mouth.

  “What’s wrong, baby? Is something you ate bad?”

  All this shit is bad, I wanted to say, but instead I pushed my plate away and kept my mouth closed.

  “I don’t feel good,” Paris whined. “My head hurts, Mama. It hurts so bad!”

  Aunt Ruthie felt Paris’s forehead. “Swag, this child is burning up with fever!”

  Paris started crying. She kept saying her neck felt twisted and her head felt like it was busting open. She covered her face and complained that the dining room lights was hurting her eyes.

  Aunt Ruthie started crying too, and all the cool seemed to drain outta Uncle Swag. He looked worried in a way that I’d never seen before.

  “You think we should call the doctor?” he asked, heading toward the phone.

  Aunt Ruthie shook her head as she got Paris up from the table and they rushed together toward the bathroom.

  “No. I’ma catch a taxi on over to the emergency room. You run Saucy home real quick, then meet me there. Don’t waste no time standing around talking to that momma of hers, neither. Just drop Saucy off at the door and come straight over to the emergency room. I mean that shit too, Swag. My baby is sick.”

  Three nights later the door to my bedroom popped open again. I held my breath as the sound of King’s footsteps crossed the room. Pulling my sheet back, she kneeled on the bed and spread my legs. She slid my panties down to my ankles, then took them completely off, and then her warm lips were on me. Licking. Sucking. Probing my hole and making it hot and wet. I squirmed, my booty rubbing against the linty sheets. Little sparks of heaven shot through me and I couldn’t help it as my legs slid open wider, my back arching as my hips rose to meet her tongue.

  King reached under me and cupped my butt. She stroked my cheeks and licked me faster. I squeezed my eyes tight as she fucked the bed, her body hammering as she humped down into the mattress. Whomp! Whomp! Whomp!

  “Ahhhh!” I cried out, my body shivering. For the first time ever, delicious tremors rocked me from head to toe. My fingers pulled at her short hair. I pushed her face deeper inside me, shocking both of us with my greed. Consumed, I grabbed at my sheets and wrapped my legs around her head, clamping my feet, locking my ankles together, and grinding myself all over her face.

  She tried to pull away but I was busy searching. Reaching for something that I needed more than air. I yelled out loud as I tried to get it. Rubbing myself everywhere trying to put that fire out. I was closer, just about to fall off the unknown edge when King wrenched open my legs and snatched her face away.

  She glared at me in the darkness.

  “You’s a nasty little bitch,” she snarled, wiping her mouth and rocking back on her knees, leaving cold air where her warm tongue had just been. “Little kids ain’t supposed to like that shit. You been getting off the whole time, ain’t you?”

  I opened my mouth to deny it, but before I could say anything the bedroom door was opened once again.

  “Please,” my mother whispered urgently, speaking directly to me and ignoring King. “Come to me.”

  I was dazed. The three of us had played this game for a long time but it had never gone down like this before.

  “Your daughter’s a fuckin’ freak,” King complained as I walked toward the door, the throbbing between my legs slowly fading.

  I stopped in front of Kimichi. She smoothed her straight hair, then put her hands on my shoulders. Her large slanted eyes looked sad.

  “Is bad news, Seung Cee,” she said, using the name she had tried to give me at birth. “It is Pawris. She pass away, yes? You cousin is dead.”

  I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

  Kimichi had cried a little bit but my eyes were dry as sand. All I could think about was Paris being dead, and all the nice shit she had left behind. That big old bed. The endless clothes. Those patent-leather shoes. That orange Gucci purse. Shoot, Paris didn’t need none of that stuff no more!

  By the time the sun came up I was already dressed and ready for school. Kimichi was sleeping naked on the dirty floor in the living room, and King had passed out on the sofa. Her legs were wide open showing her big hairy pussy, and an empty vodka bottle was on the end table beside her.

  I walked the few blocks to school with my mind whirling. Tightening up my scheme, making sure I had plenty of tears ready. Inside my classroom I went straight to my desk and sat down. I didn’t even bogart any of the play areas the way I usually did. I didn’t hold my hand out demanding nobody’s lunch money neither. I had fought to be the attendance monitor for the week, but I let a boy named Chester take my place and I didn’t make him pay me a dime for the privilege of doing it.

  The moment my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Gladman, walked in the classroom I started spazzing out.

  “Saucy!” she said, sticking her purse into her desk drawer then coming over to see about me as I wailed as hard and loud as I could. I was such a troublemaker in her class that she’d had to put my desk dead smack in front of hers, and this was the first time I was actually happy that her eyes were directly on me.

  “Don’t cry, honey!” she begged, looking shocked and really concerned. “What’s the matter? Do you feel sick or something?”

  I shook my head no, wailing louder.

  “Did somebody hit you? Hurt you? Is everything all right at home?”

  Oh I was performing my ass off now. Shaking in terror, rubbing my fists all in my eyes. Clapping my knees together under the desk.

  Mrs. Gladman bent down next to me and put her arm around me. As much as I had cursed her out and terrorized the other students, she probably couldn’t imagine what could have my bad ass so scared and hysterical.

  “What’s going on, Saucy?” she asked quietly, stroking my hair. “Whatever it is, you can tell me and I promise I’ll help you. I promise.”

  That was exactly what I wanted to hear. In fact, I was counting on her to say just that! I kept up my act as Mrs. Gladman led me out of the classroom and down the hall to the nurse’s office. I cried the whole way, lips trembling, working them tears to death.

  I sat in front of the nurse whimpering and shaking. She was a nice fat lady with a wide face and real red lipstick.

  “We’re both here to help you, sweetie,” the school nurse said, leaning over me and taking my hand. Her perfume was sweet and thick. “Please, Saucy. If something bad has happened to you, we really, really need to know about it.”

  She sure didn’t have to ask me twice. I pictured Paris’s big old comfortable bed and that orange Gucci purse, and then I opened my mouth and let all the beans spill out.

  “Mister King—my mommy’s girlfriend. She kissed me on my pussy last night!”

  A social worker from the Department of Family Services picked me up from school and took me for a physical exam at Harlem Hospital. When we left the hospital I was taken straight to a foster home. I gave them Uncle Swag’s number, then sat listening to the social worker’s side of the conversation as she made arrangements for him to come pick me up.

  “Oh, Saucy,” he said, hugging me to his chest the next morning when he came to get me. Uncle Swag was still fine, but his eyes were r
ed like he hadn’t slept in a long time. He glanced around the crummy foster home that was almost as raggedy as my Harlem apartment. “Paris is gone and we’ll have to bury her, baby. But we sure ain’t gonna lose you too.”

  Uncle Swag told me that Paris had been killed by a virus called meningitis, and while I knew that was too bad for her, it was high time for me. In a matter of days I went from a dirty Harlem girl to a downtown diva. It was hard for me to hold myself together when Uncle Swag led me into Paris’s old bedroom and told me to make good use of everything in it. I wanted to jump up and down and scream and kiss him and do a booty dance to celebrate my good luck, but instead I nodded slowly and forced myself to drag my feet over to her room, then pause at the door and look over my shoulder at him with big sad eyes.

  “You sure, Uncle?”

  “Yeah, darling. I’m sure. You were her best friend. It’s what Paris would have wanted.”

  For a minute I wondered about what Aunt Ruthie might say when she saw me styling all of Paris’s stuff, but she was too broke down to even help with the funeral arrangements and she mostly stayed in their bedroom crying in the dark. Her sister Roz had come from upstate to help her out. She stayed in Kaz’s room and took care of him, and that left Uncle Swag to take care of me.

  On the morning of Paris’s funeral I hid in her room with the door closed until it was time to leave. I was excited. The apartment was full of people and I could hear them out there talking and crying and comforting Uncle Swag and Aunt Ruthie. The moment I stepped into the living room it seemed like everybody shut up all at once. I stood in the middle of the room smiling and profiling because I knew I looked just that good.

  Paris’s yellow and white sailor dress was a little short, but otherwise it fit me perfectly. I had on her white church gloves and my feet were balled up in her white patent-leather shoes with the shiny buckles. Her lacy tights were too short for me and wouldn’t come all the way up to my crotch, but I figured couldn’t nobody see all that so what the hell. Hanging from my shoulder was that fly orange Gucci bag. Yeah, I knew it didn’t match the outfit, but so what? The flap with the blue nail polish on it was out of sight, pressed against my side, and my thick, pretty hair was curly and shiny and hanging down my back in black waves.

  “My lawd…” Aunt Ruthie sobbed out loud, breaking the silence and stealing some of the attention away from me. I sucked my teeth under my breath thinking that’s where Paris had gotten that shit from. They just couldn’t let me shine the way I was supposed to without trying to get all in the spotlight too.

  Aunt Ruthie fell against her sister, tears running from her eyes. “Lawd, that’s my baby’s Easter dress,” she said, crying into a black handkerchief.

  “Saucy,” Aunt Roz said, dressed all in black and giving me an evil look. “Why don’t you go change into something else, dear. Something more…appropriate. You do have something of your own that you can wear, don’t you? I bet you’d feel a lot more comfortable in some of your own clothes.”

  All eyes were on me again but this time I didn’t like the way it felt. We were going to a damn funeral, right? That meant Paris was gone. Saucy was here. Why should all them cute clothes go to waste?

  “Leave her.” Uncle Swag spoke up. He looked at his watch and started waving folks toward the door. “The limos are already waiting downstairs. Besides. It don’t matter what the child has on. Life don’t have a damn thing to do with fancy clothes.”

  At the church I barely glanced at Paris laying up there looking stiff and funny in that big white box while everybody sang and cried around her. I was too hyped after taking my very first limousine ride and couldn’t wait to ride that bad boy back home again. There were five of them. Stretched out. Long, black, and sparkling. Cars that screamed money. I just knew every other driver on the road was looking at us with envy because my uncle had big doe.

  The next few weeks woulda been the bomb if everybody around me wasn’t so damn sad all the time. Hell, I was happier than I’d ever been in my life, and when Kimichi called and told Uncle Swag that King’s nasty ass had gotten sent upstate and asked if he would bring me to our old apartment to see her, I told Uncle Swag I didn’t wanna go.

  Why should I? For the first time in my life I had everything I needed and almost all of what I wanted. They’d put me in a new school where nobody knew the old dirty, raggedy Saucy. Every morning I gave Uncle Swag a kiss and jumped outta his Maserati in front of that big old school a happy child. I felt like a shiny little model on a runway as I walked into that school like my feet were touching a red carpet. My hair was always pretty and decked with Paris’s cute bows and barrettes, and I never wore the same outfit twice in a month.

  I had enough smarts to hide some of my glee around Uncle Swag though. I made sure to catch an occasional sad face and teary eyes like I was thinking about Paris every now and then for Uncle Swag’s sake. But for real though, I didn’t miss nothing about her ass. Every chance I got I closed the door to Paris’s old room and rolled all over that big-ass bed. I yanked all her gear out the closets and tried every stitch of it on, even the ugly stuff. I crammed my feet into her too-small shoes and gave not a damn when my toes caught a cramp.

  In no time at all I had taken over Paris’s space and was working on making the life she used to have all mine. Aunt Ruthie tried to fuss when she found out Uncle Swag had asked the courts for permanent custody of me, but he shut that down real quick.

  “Woman, I done lost my only brother and my only daughter. You think I’ma lose my only niece too? Saucy’s a sweet little girl and she needs us. Who knows what that dyke bitch was doing to her up in that filthy apartment. You can say what you want, but Saucy Robinson ain’t going nowhere. I love her, and she loves me right back. Life is too short for bullshit, Ruthie. Losing Paris shoulda taught you that.”

  Yeah! I wanted to scream out loud as I stood with my ear pressed to their bedroom door. Aunt Ruthie could just chill with all that “when is she going home” shit. I was home. And she could just believe that.

  Chapter 3

  BY THE TIME I was fourteen Uncle Swag couldn’t do a damn thing with me. He treated me like a princess and had spoiled me to death, giving me everything I even thought about asking for. And believe me, even though I loved my uncle more than I loved air, I asked for a whole lot.

  My cousin Kaz was about seven then, and had been so smothered by Aunt Ruthie that he couldn’t even wipe his ass by himself. After Paris died she had totally babyfied Kaz, even coming between him and Uncle Swag to the point where my uncle couldn’t have no kind of real relationship with his son. But Aunt Ruthie never could tell me shit, so after a minute she didn’t even bother to try. She gave me my space and I gave her hers. She stayed stuck up in her room and I stayed running the streets. Her dealings with me were kept to a bare minimum, and that was more than enough for me.

  I was a hot, wild, and crazy young girl and enjoying life to the fullest. I got respect and admiration from all the young come-ups on the street because my uncle Swag was a nigga in the know. He was power in the flesh. Our Upper West Side Columbus Avenue apartment was always live and filled with music and important people coming and going. Uncle Swag worked for the state government, but the G’s he hung out with were club owners, record producers, and black businessmen who kept Harlem running smooth.

  Me and Uncle Swag both loved us some music, and one of his tightest dawgs, Tollie Jones, was a record producer who was always giving me mixtapes and telling me about the hip-hop celebrities who were constantly after him to hook them up with some gully beats.

  “I wanna go to L.A. and meet me some rappers,” I told Tollie one day. “You know Nellie, right? How about Puffy and Nas? Yo! Introduce me to Jigga!”

  Tollie just laughed. “You ain’t gotta go way to Los Angeles to meet no stars, Saucy. Rappers hang out in New York and Atlanta too. But them some ocean dwellers, little girl. You still swimming in a freshwater pond. You ain’t ready for none of that.”

  “Yeah, right,” I
said, dancing all up in his face and showing him some of my new moves. “You just scared Jay-Z might see all a’ this and wanna get with me. He’ll stack all them other girls on some ice real quick once he gets a taste of the Sauce.”

  I was out there. Just begging for trouble and drama. Uncle Swag did his best to keep me in his sights, but all I had to do was give him a sad look and hang my head down a little and he would give in and basically let me do my thing—as long as I did the do in school. Of course, school was the last damn thing on my mind. I was smart and passed all my exams with no problem whenever I bothered to show up, but even when I was in the school socializing, I wasn’t trying to actually sit up in no boring-ass classroom.

  My days were all about flossing in front of cute boys and showing off my designer clothes, fierce ass, and bomb titties. My nights were spent drinking Hypnotic, smoking trees I’d copped from 116th Street, and hanging out with my girl Tai when I was supposed to be at the library.

  “Let’s go see what’s shaking in Harlem,” I told Tai one Friday night. Tai lived downstairs from me on the fourteenth floor, and we were in her bedroom with the door closed smoking a blueberry blunt and listening to some Ying Yang twins.

  “For what?” Tai asked. She was dipping Spanish olives into a big cup of ranch dressing and sucking on two fingers after every bite.

  “To get us some beer and find us some niggas!” I said. “And stop eating that shit. It looks so nasty.”

  “You the one nasty, Saucy. I don’t even know why you be fuckin’ with all them dudes like that. Clowning with them niggas and letting them get all up under your clothes just so they can get you high and buy you shit.” Tai frowned, twisting her lips. “I bet you don’t even remember half of they names.”

  I laughed. “See. That’s why you ain’t got nobody chasing after you,” I told her. “It ain’t even about they names. It’s all about the dope, the dick, and the doe.”