Thong on Fire

by Noire

  I got mad at Free just thinking about that shit. Here I coulda been sitting up lovely with Pretty Boy and whipping them Cambodian bitches’ asses while he paid my credit card bills, or hanging out with Grillz and getting my butt massaged, or riding around in a Escalade all night with that young, fine ass Quaison. But instead I was tossing my whole roll on Free, when that nigga didn’t even wanna act right.

  I slept like an old fat man that night. Worried or not, Marshall’s bed was soft and plush, and if I had found somebody who wanted to buy it, it woulda already been gone. The next morning I was sick again, but I did what the doctor had recommended and ate a couple of crackers that I’d set out on my night table the night before.

  I was sprawled out in bed when my cell phone rang. I looked at the caller ID, then let it ring two more times.

  “Hello?”

  “I been thinking,” Free said. His voice sounded real serious, but still real smooth. “About what you asked me a couple of weeks ago.”

  We both knew what he was talking about, so there wasn’t no need for me to front.

  “Okay.”

  “And I think I’m ready for that now.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “So what made you change your mind? The baby?”

  “Yeah, that has a lot to do with it,” he admitted. “But I’m feeling you too, Saucy. Even when I don’t wanna be feeling you, you still there.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out real slow. I was ’bout to have this nigga eating outta my hand now. But I kept myself in pocket.

  “I got feelings for you too, Free. I admitted them to you last night. But I don’t wanna jump off into nothing with you just because we having a baby. Plenty of people have babies but don’t hook up. It don’t take no father being around to raise no child, you know.”

  “It does to raise my damn child! I don’t care what them other niggas out there do with their seeds, but I’ma nourish mine! Ere’ day. You can believe that. I’ma get real personal with my tyke, Saucy. That’s what’s real, baby!”

  My lips curled up in a smirky smile. Oh, I musta said the wrong damn thing. Shit. By the way he responded it was actually the right thing.

  Free came to pick me up at about two that afternoon. He was right on time too because I’d just cursed Marshall out.

  “Tomorrow is D-day, baby,” he’d hollered when I answered a call from him. “I hope you got your shit packed, sweetie ’cause I got fresh plans for the crib tomorrow night, and you ain’t included.”

  “Fuck you, Marshall. You can take this mothefuckin’ roach trap and stick it up your shitty ass, nigga!”

  “Ouch!” he said. “As pretty as you are nobody would ever believe the kinda slime that comes out your mouth, girl.” He laughed. “Or what kinda slime that goes in it, either. I’ma tell you, Saucy. If you ever fall off and need some quick cash, call me, baby. I know some niggas who would pay good money to get their joint waxed the way you work it. Hell, I could put your skank ass out on the stroll and make a quick fuckin’ million! Your top is just that good. You must be laying down some kinda ancient Chinese secret! I’ma miss you girl! I really am!”

  I opened up on his ass Harlem style!

  “Oh, you gonna miss something you blinky-dink mother-fuckah! That’s for real. Just wait until you get back to your funky-ass apartment. Ain’t gone be shit up in here you and the next bitch can use! Now kiss my black ass you limp-dicked, stuttering, butt-plugged, cheesy-balls, saggy-nuts, crooked-dicked, bad-breathed, crusty-eyed, shitty-drawers, waterbug-looking, can’t-eat-no-pussy motherfuckah!”

  I snapped my cell phone closed so hard it clacked, and when Free rang the bell downstairs an hour later I was still sweating. I looked around Marshall’s apartment for the last time and felt real satisfied. Every dish in the joint was in the middle of the kitchen floor, smashed. I’d torn down all the drapes, unplugged the refrigerator, stopped up the toilet, overflowed the bathtub, and cut a big hole in his mattress. That motherfucker didn’t know who he was dealing with, but when he walked up in here with his next bitch he would figure it out real quick. I was feeling myself. Getting my confidence up. Saucy was getting her spice back again, and even a rich nigga like Marshall wasn’t no match for this.

  “I’m coming down,” I pressed the intercom and called out to Free, then grabbed the handles on my two gigantic rolling suitcases that were full of clothes and other gifts Marshall and Pretty Boy and Grillz and Quaison and so many others had bought me. I walked outta that box and didn’t look back. Where I was going was definitely bigger, and so much better. Let Marshall try to come up in Free’s spot blowing me up. That rabbit-looking nigga would get stripped at the steps, and I was almost sure of that.

  My first weeks with Free were the shit. We lived at the top of the world and I just couldn’t get enough of his pretty smile, his muscled-up black body, the way he handled me in the bed, and the juice he had in the streets. I loved it when Tone, Cuban, Herc, Bandie, and all the rest of his boys were chilling up in the crib, listening to sounds, laying down tracks, and making beats.

  Even though he was retired, Free was still doing a lot of song writing and had some new artists on the label that he was trying to help get some exposure. He took me with him to Phoenix and Las Vegas, and we even flew into Canada to check out some new talent he was scouting up there.

  Free was always getting invites to award shows and hot parties, and when Tai faxed him his date sheets my eyes would be all over those pages. I’d look for the events that were gonna have the best crowds, the most important people in the industry, or the most press, and those were the ones I begged Free to take me to.

  “I don’t even look pregnant,” I argued when he acted like I should be staying home. “I know chicks who got more stomach than me, and they ain’t having no baby.”

  Free got invited to the BET Music Awards and I was right there on his arm. Everybody was there, Stevie Wonder, Chaka Khan, Beyoncé, Kanye, Diddy, the Wayans brothers…it was all that. Afterward Free was invited to BET’s Black Carpet Lounge with Danella and Toure, and I was right up in there with him.

  Free treated me so special. As soon as I moved in his joint he started feeding me, trying to make me gain some weight. Every time I looked up he was cooking and washing tomatoes and making salad and cutting up fresh fruit. I hated oranges so he went out and got me some vitamin C tablets. He stood over me and made me take them nasty-ass pregnancy vitamins too, and sometimes they kept my stomach upset for the whole day.

  Free stayed on me about drinking plenty of water too, and made me take long walks with him. He took me to all my doctor appointments and was there when we saw the sonogram results too. Free was mad happy that he was having him a son, and he told every damn body who would listen that he was about to have a tyke. He barred his boys from smoking in the crib and said that meant no sticky and no ciggs, so all they could do was get their drink on. Free didn’t know it, but sometimes I got mine on, too.

  I knew he loved me and was just trying to take care of me, but after a minute I started getting sick of him telling me what to do and I was bored as hell. I missed the night life and the parties. I needed to be out there on the street scene getting noticed, and wasn’t none of that happening up in Free’s joint.

  “C’mon, Free,” I begged. There was an award show in Atlanta I wanted to go to, and he was resisting that shit.

  Free looked at me for a minute, then said, “I told you people be smoking cigarettes and trees and shit like that at them joints, Saucy. You don’t need to be around all that. Exposing my tyke to that kinda poison.”

  “But they giving you an award, baby! You should be there to accept it. Plus, I’m tired of hanging around this damn apartment! I wanna go out, Free. I wanna dance! I danced my ass off with you up on that stage the night you met me, remember?”

  He laughed, but not like it was funny. “Oh, I remember, baby. Believe that. I remember.”

  I finally convinced him to let me
go to Atlanta and the only reason he agreed was because Tai was going too.

  “Watch her, Tai,” he told her when we got off the plane at Hartsfield International Airport. “I need to grow some eyes in the back of my head to keep up with this girl ’cause she likes to get around.”

  I just looked at Free and rolled my eyes. Tai couldn’t keep up with me if she had a high-powered scooter and a motorized ten-speed. I had heard the show was gonna be hot as hell, and I planned on being there in all my shine and getting my party on like it was nobody’s business. Even Free’s.

  Chapter 17

  OH! THE SHOW was live!

  It was at a huge posh hotel and Free had rented suites upstairs for his whole crew. I stepped up in that sucker in a baby-blue Dolce & Gabbana dress that made my titties look like they was bulging out and my ass look nice and fluffy. My stomach was barely sticking out at all, probably because I was doing mad sit-ups every morning so I wouldn’t get fat.

  Tai looked kinda cute tonight too. She had on a white dress that made her look a little less blimpy, although them big-ass elephant feet was sticking outta her patent-leather shoes and her ankles looked fat and swollen.

  The auditorium was packed but we had the best seats. Free was getting another damn award tonight and they’d reserved almost a whole row for him and his entourage. I went to the bathroom before the show started and ran into a chick named Nae-Nae I used to know when I was working at the G-Spot. G had fired her for bringing her little son up in his joint, and bitches was hot with him over that! Even though we didn’t hang together or nothing back then, I was happy to see her, especially when she whipped some trees out her purse and sparked one up.

  “Who you here with?” I asked her.

  “Oh. No fuckin’ body. Just this crazy nigga from the Lower East Side and his crew. He’s part of the show, but his ass is real light ’cause we sitting way the fuck in the back by the waiters and shit.”

  “I’m rolling with Freedom Moore from Ruthless,” I said proudly. I looked in the mirror and admired the banging-ass jewelry Free had bought me and smiled. “He’s getting a top award tonight, so we chilling up front. How’s your baby doing?”

  “He’s good. Getting big. My mother keeps him.”

  I pulled a pen outta my bag and wrote my cell phone number on a paper towel. “Call me girl. I got something for your little man,” I said. I still had that baby bangle that I had snatched when I was on my way upstate to murk Sincere. “I meant to give it to you a long time ago,” I lied, “but when G tripped out you stopped coming around the Spot.”

  I smoked two dutches with her and by the time I got back to my seat I was feeling nicer than I’d felt in months. I was ready to let my hair down. To relax and get my socialize on. The music was banging and all the artists were pretty hot, but Reem Raw really tore up the floor with his shit.

  They all know who the top spot belong to!

  They all know how my block rock, we on you!

  They all know what these Glock shots’ll cause you,

  That’s how my men play! We keeping it N.J.!

  Ask bout me, the boy Reem raps outrageous!

  It’s amazing the way I format my phrases!

  Say what I feel, can’t draw back my statements

  Yell at me,

  You ain’t gotta contact no agent, nigga!

  There was never fire, Raw spittin on a level higher,

  Niggas this Jerz, them bird niggas is feather flyers!

  Mash on the cash chase, cause we in the streets grinding like bad brakes

  R double E M, shoulda never let em out,

  Bring your records out,

  I blast the whole session out!

  I had only seen Reem spit live once before, but every damn thing people was saying about him was true. The boy knew how to work the stage. He had niggas in the crowd spittin’ his bars right back at him ’cause his flow was just that strong. The crowd was feeling both him and the beat, and I raised my arms over my head and clapped and bounced as he kept shit real.

  This is trench life!

  You get it in, then you get right!

  Ship white, hit you with it for the bench price! N.J. add the letter after the R,

  It ain’t another squad in the same bracket as ours,

  It’s a mismatch!

  That slick rap get ’em gift wrapped!

  Strip cats, big stacks so the click strapped

  Aiming for the bigger doe, all black triggas blow,

  New Jerz South betta act like niggas know!

  No slouch, roll out on the audible,

  None of y’all niggas can’t take it where I brought it to!

  My name ringing like bells on the boulevard,

  Heaven or hell, ain’t a soul spittin illa bars!

  The pushers gone keep pushin

  The lookers gone keep looking,

  Pop some nigga let the shotguns cook ’em! D.C. to Brooklyn, who got the game locked?

  REEM!

  They all know who the top spot belong to!

  They all know how my block rock, we on you!

  They all know what these Glock shots’ll cause you,

  That’s how my men play!

  We keeping it N.J.!

  “That little nigga raw for real,” Free laughed. “He don’t sound like nobody else out there. I’ma try and get him on at Ruthless soon. His original flow can help boost my lineup.”

  I nodded and agreed. Hell, Reem was getting it in, but I was just happy to see Free happy and enjoying himself for once, even though business was evidently still on his mind. I had danced all over my seat and I was still feeling the trees I’d hit in the bathroom when I got the shit shocked outta me. They introduced the next artist and my whole face fell.

  “We got some fresh talent in the house!” the MC yelled. “Give it up for my son Quaison!”

  I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms. Quai really had some shit with him. Ever since he found out I was putting it down with Freedom Moore, he started losing his focus and scheming on how he could sneak up on some of them Ruthless Boyz and snatch one of their contracts. I had a feeling he was using me to get closer to Free’s artists, but the way he was going about it was just crazy. First this fool had called asking me to come give him some head, and when I told him I was pregnant and wouldn’t take a cab to his crib, he threatened to send Free a copy of the sexy videotape we made!

  “I know that’s your baby daddy, Saucy, and I don’t really wanna blow you up like that. It’s just that I’m feening for you, ma,” he told me. “Can’t nobody slurp dat brain like you do it, baby.”

  “That’s just wrong, Quai,” I told him when I got down to his moms’s crib and was sliding his long fat dick into my mouth. “This was supposed to be about us hanging out having fun. Not about no blackmail. Me and you did that movie for kicks and it wasn’t even about Free.”

  Yeah, I went ahead and did what Quai wanted that first time, but when I looked at the tape again I realized how good Mami was looking on that baby! The next time he called tryna bribe me for some top, I was ready for him.

  “Go right ahead,” I told him, laughing into the phone. “Show it to anybody you wanna show it to. I look damn good! Niggas gone love seeing me performing at my best! As a matter of fact, I look so hot on that shit I might try to get me a table on 125th Street and move a few copies myself!”

  That shut Quaison down real quick and he got mad as hell and cursed me out! He was all about putting that freaky CD out there when he thought it was gonna embarrass me. But once he realized I might make some money off the sight of him licking all inside my ass crack, that shit changed real quick. Quaison didn’t know he wasn’t slicker than me, but if I had known this motherfucker was gone be down here for the show tonight I might not have been in such a hurry to come.

  He came out on stage with that bad-ass New York swagger, looking like a chocolate fuckin’ chip. I couldn’t remember what the hell I had seen in his young ass other than his pretty eyes and fine body and
gorgeous dick. Other than that, he was just regular.

  “What’s happenin’ Hotlanta!” His voice boomed into the mic and I coulda sworn that nigga looked dead at me. “Thanks for the southern love, y’all. Georgia got some of the finest women in the world with the biggest asses on the planet. Fuck Manhattan! I’m moving down south!”

  He performed a half-ass track that didn’t even make me pat my foot. Tai clapped for him at the end, but I just sat there wondering how he could get up on stage and embarrass himself like that.

  “Thank you, thank you!” he had the nerve to holla into the mic when he was done. “I wanna thank everybody who made tonight possible for a nigga like me. You know, there’s some old cats in this rap game who done took a serious loss. Vets! Old heads who done fell off and hit the floor with a bang! But I don’t feel no pity for them. I mean, a nigga gotta know how to keep his business tight in this industry. He gotta manage his contracts! He gotta pay his fuckin’artists! He gotta keep his bitches off they goddamn knees, braining the competition! ’Cause when he don’t, a hungry nigga like me might slide up and take everything he got.” He did look right at me this time, no doubt. “Nah’m saying?

  “So I’ma close my shit out with this one last jawn. I ain’t even know I was gonna spit it until I hit the stage tonight. It’s gone be a freestyle joint so y’all be good to me. I’m dedicating it to my girl, Brainiac, ’cause she was worth every dollar I spent.”

  She might be what the big boys desire,

  But homey watch ya head cuz her thong’s on fire!

  Type of body make a thug wanna wife her,

  Just watch your head homey cuz her thong’s on fire!

  No chick can match her