by Styles, T.
“Open your legs wider,” Zone instructed. “And put all five fingers in your pussy at one time.”
“Whatever you want,” the voice said, coming from the speakers.
The girl’s chocolate legs widened, which exposed more of her fleshy mound. Zone stroked himself harder, and he was on the verge of cumming until he sensed he wasn’t alone. Jumping up, he stuffed his penis back in his boxers and pulled his blue jeans up from the floor. Running his hand through his black curly hair, he searched for a reasonable explanation. After all, they’d been together for years and she was helping support them. Sure she cheated on Zone by fucking Randy for some dough, but it wasn’t like the dude had concrete proof. Rumors loomed in the hood every day.
“Baby, I’m ... I’m ... sorry. I didn’t know you were home,” he said, moving in her direction.
Farah’s eyes were glued to the screen, and she noticed something that caused her heart to ache. There, on the woman’s inner thigh, was a diamond ring tattoo that read: A GUY’S BEST FRIEND. The thigh belonged to her nineteen-year-old sister, Chloe. Was this the reason that bitch wanted to know when I was coming home?
“Zone, where you at?” Chloe asked. Her pretty, deep chocolate face finally came into view on the screen. “I can’t see you. Step back in front of the camera.” Chloe squinted until she saw her sister. “Oh, my God! Farah, I’m so—”
Hearing her voice, Farah immediately ran up to the computer and turned off the screen. Tears rolled down her face and she looked at him, hoping he’d give her answers. It was the first time she showed emotion to a man, and as far as she was concerned it would be her last. Although she was devastated, it was mainly because of Chloe’s betrayal. They were sisters and she loved her very much. Zone wasn’t the first person Chloe went at who belonged to her. In Farah’s opinion the treachery started with Theo.
She focused on his beautiful dark skin, low right eye, and lips that were black from years of weed smoking. He wasn’t perfect by any means, or the man in her stories, but she was starting to care about him. With a little time and a lot of money, she could even see herself falling for Zone. She always favored the underdog, and any man who made a come up because she was in his life was bound to appreciate her even more.
“I ain’t fucking with her no more, baby.” He walked up to her and massaged her shoulders. “That shit didn’t mean nothing too me. You know how freaky your baby sister is. We had a bet she wouldn’t do no shit like that, and she did. She won, babes.” He laughed. “Now I owe her fifty bucks.”
“Fifty bucks?” Her tone was flat.
He made an unexpected crinkly grin. “It was just a joke. I promise.” He was lying and she knew it. She remembered the day Chloe walked out of their bathroom after taking a shower, with water drops beading all over her chocolate skin. Lust was in his eyes that night, and she knew having her around and in her home was risky for their relationship. Chloe was everything Farah wasn’t: dark skin and freaked out.
“Talk to me, Farah,” Zone said. His eyes moved over her face, arms, and legs, and it was clear he was trying to read her. The silence poked at his guilt and caused his jaw to flex. “Every time we get into a fight, you space the fuck out.” He stepped away from her as he flipped the tables around on her so hard, Farah didn’t know what was happening. “Bitch, are you listening to me? Are you even here?” Zone was livid at the cool way in which she handled the matter, partly because he was guilty and also because if she didn’t lash out, he felt she didn’t love him. Farah always acted like this whenever they got into fights so nothing was new. Often times he’d go outside and punch at the impenetrable walls in the hallway until his hands were sore. The only time he saw Farah emotional was when she was beefing with Coconut.
“The only time you react is when that bitch is involved. You sure you ain’t fucking Coconut?” When she heard his words, she clapped her eyelids together a few times, looked at the floor, and then back at him. She didn’t want to respond to such a ridiculous accusation. Although she was obsessed with the friendship, she didn’t want to be with a woman exclusively. The mere idea repulsed her, and she knew he knew that.
“You want something to eat?” She cupped her palms together. “I can fry you some chicken. Maybe make some of that brown rice you like after I shower.”
Farah acted as if nothing happened and already she was on to the next thing. Besides, being without Zone was not an option at the moment. She lived with him and although she’d been footing some of the bills—with the help of the blackmail money she took from her mother to keep the secret she learned about Coach Jaffrey, and the cash Randy gave her to dip into her pussy every now and again—it was still his place and she didn’t want to go back home.
“You just walked in on some amazing fucking shit and that’s all you got to say?”
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” She smiled, ignoring his question. “I can wait to take my shower.” She walked around him. “Let me cook your food first.”
She kicked her shoes off, grabbed the cooler by the door, and walked into the spacious, upscale kitchen. She placed the cooler on the counter and opened the fridge to grab thawed chicken breasts. Not bothering to wash her dirty hands, she took the meat out of the package, and seasoned them the way Zone liked it, minus the dirt from under her fingernails. He was so shocked by her actions that he stood in her presence motionless. When the image of Chloe’s waiting vagina danced around in her mind she said, “Baby, you mind turning on the music?”
“Farah, you not gonna say nothing about the shit you just saw?” He walked toward the kitchen. “Nothing at all?”
“What you want me to say?” she said as her dirty fingernails dug into the meat while she massaged in the seasonings. “You said it was a joke, so it was a joke.” She shrugged. “I’m not gonna let that shit take any more of my time than it already has.”
“So you don’t care that it was Chloe?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
Thinking she wasn’t tripping because she was still fucking Randy he asked, “Where were you?”
Farah was quiet. Zone had been with her all this time and she never told him about the illness she was born with, for fear it might turn him off. “I had to meet a friend.” She flipped the chicken on the opposite side and seasoned it some more. “I would’ve been here sooner but there was an accident on the beltway,” she lied as she appraised him with narrow eyes to see if he believed her. “Maybe I’ll make you lemon drops, too. You really love that drink the girl Angel makes at the bar.” She put the chicken in the pan. “If I go to the store now I can catch them before they close to get some fresh lemons.” She remembered her bumper was about to fall off and said, “Or maybe I can ask our neighbors if they have any.”
“You don’t even fuckin’ talk to our neighbors.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” She smiled.
“You really don’t give a fuck, do you?”
Her mind raced as she tried to understand what he wanted from her. Essentially she was excusing his trifling-ass behavior by acting as if nothing happened, yet he was unsatisfied. She learned a long time ago to toughen up, after hearing it over and over from her family. Emotion would be wasted on this situation because what was done was done and at the end of the day she didn’t like what she saw, but she wasn’t gonna leave him, either. He was her escape now and until she came up with another plan, he would have to do.
“Farah, I’m not fucking around with you! We gotta talk about this shit!”
“You want sex? I can suck your dick. Would you like that?” She walked toward him. “I saw how hard you were when I first walked in. That’s what you want, ain’t it?”
He stared at her like she was crazy. Because at the moment she was. “You know what, I’m so sick of this weak shit.”
“What do you want me to say, Zone? That I walked in on you beating your dick to my sister’s wet pussy and my feelings are hurt?”
“That’s a start.”
; “Well it did hurt, but I’m not gonna leave you. Anyway, you like red bitches.” She giggled. “That was one of the first things you told me when we first met. So my sister’s too black anyway. You tell me that all the time.” She smirked. “What you wanna do, try something new so you can get it out your system? Is that it?” She walked closer to him. “We been together for a few years. Maybe you want to try dark meat. It’s not a big deal. My grandmother told my mom every now and again a man likes something different. If you want, I can call her over so you can fuck her. I know she wants you, so we can get that shit out of the way. Just don’t ask me to do it again when it’s over.”
Zone took a step back and said, “I’m done.” He moved toward the computer to grab his keys, and stuffed his wallet in his front pocket. Through the large window she could see the snow coming down heavier. “When I get back, I want you out my crib.”
“But my name is on the lease. You can’t throw me out.”
“Naw.” He chuckled. “You signed a lease with me, ma, but you’re not on my lease. I just did that shit so you could keep the apartment while I was locked up. Our arrangement expires next month. So instead of wasting my time, I want you to pack your shit and be out tomorrow.”
“So you want to be with my sister now? Is that it?”
“Fuck no! It ain’t even about that. It’s about you and me not vibing.” He looked at her seriously. “You been different since I been home from jail, and I’m hearing shit I don’t like about you fucking Randy. That’s probably the reason I can’t get put on, and make no more paper in these streets. The nigga runs half of DC. So, like I said, pack your shit and kick rocks.”
“Zone ... I’m not mad at you ... It’s okay.”
“Why don’t you wanna fight for me?” She was silent as always and he laughed. “I know what it is: you so used to niggas sweating you because you red. Guess what, I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit.” He stepped closer. “If you really wanna know the truth, your pussy some trash anyway.” She laughed, not believing him. “Naw, I’m being straight up. You can’t fuck. If you don’t believe me, ask the nigga Randy. I’m sure he’ll keep it one hundred with you, since he lacing you up.” He moved toward the closet, grabbed his brown leather coat, and eased it on. “Like I said, I want you out. I’m tired of your hair being all over my crib anyway.”
“Where am I gonna go?”
“Move back with your mamma. It ain’t my problem.”
“I don’t deserve this shit!” She put her hand over her heart. “The least you can do is tell me how you want me to be!”
“I wanted you to be strong. I wanted you to want this relationship. But you can’t do that, can you? Because you don’t give a fuck.” He walked past her to grab a beer out of the fridge before moving toward the door again. “Who else but a bitch who don’t care can walk in on something like that, and not say shit?”
She stood in place and looked at him. Her heart told her he was picking a fight to flip shit on her, but what could she do? If she had another place to stay she might’ve told him where to go and how to get there, but that was not the case.
Zone twisted the knob to the front door, preparing to walk out, when Farah started talking. “I come from a family of murderers. I never gave you my life story because I knew my last name was enough. Plus I didn’t think you would deal with me if you knew the whole truth.” He closed the door, turned around, and looked at her. “My father is in jail for killing a family all because their son scratched the paint on his car.” Tears rolled out of her eyes heavily, but she was laughing. “My mother had us fight and hurt people just because she liked to see them cry and sometimes”—she looked into the distance—“we even killed.”
She focused back on him. “I don’t want to be that person anymore, Zone. I don’t want to be the person I know I can be. So I let shit slide. That’s why I don’t argue with you a lot, or pick fights I know I can’t win. But it don’t mean I don’t want to be with you.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “And it don’t mean you can leave me. Right now, I need you.” She walked up to him. “You’re all I got.” Her lips curled into a semi-smile. “So put your keys down because you’re not going anywhere. Okay?”
“Right now you need me?” He laughed. “What happens when the next nigga with more money comes along? What... you won’t need me anymore then?”
She was no longer thinking straight, so the truth flew out of her mouth faster than a bullet. “When the next nigga with more money comes along, then I’m gone,” she said flatly. “But let’s cross that block when we get there.”
He walked over to the window, activated the automatic start on his BMW, and faced her. “Like I said, I want you out.” The snow was coming down so hard it sounded as if sand were being thrown against the large-pane windows. He looked at her face and she didn’t appear to be listening. “You heard me, bitch? Get your shit and get the fuck out by tomorrow.”
She heard him that time. When she looked at his face, she saw the seriousness in his eyes. It was over and she felt it. The bottoms of her feet were sweaty, and her palms were soaked with perspiration. She was trying to push the anger down deep and let his rejection pass, but she couldn’t. Who was he to dump her when he was in the wrong? As if someone threw down a red flag at a car race, her toes dug into the cream carpet fibers, and she charged toward him full speed ahead. Running indoor track throughout high school made her quick and agile. She ran so fast that the baby toe on her right foot cracked and broke. But pain was nonexistent for the moment.
When she reached him, both of her hands forcefully touched his chest. With extreme exertion, she pushed him toward the window and watched it fracture as his body pressed against the glass. Small shards covered his hair and face as he tumbled backward. He tried to reach out and stop his fall by gripping at the air but it wasn’t working. His body twirled and whirled thirteen feet to his death. He died instantly.
With the window destroyed, the cold air rushed into the apartment and Farah rubbed her arms rapidly for warmth. Walking up to the window, her feet pressed against the broken glass as she looked around until she saw him. There his body lay, against the snow, with his eyes wide open. Seconds later the snow turned red as blood and life escaped him.
Chapter 13
One Month Later
“Dumbness, you would fuck anybody. You don ’t give a fuck what they look like.”
—Farah
Farah drove her car out of the Benz dealership, with the music pumping loudly. She just got it fixed, after the damage Randy had done to the bumper the night he chased her. Coconut, Rhonda, and Natasha were riding along so they could all get something to eat later from Mamma’s Kitchen, a soul food spot in Washington DC. Her toe still hurt a little after being broken, but it was the first day she could really move around, so she wanted to have fun.
“Slow down, girl,” Rhonda said from the back seat. “These roads slick as shit.” She rubbed her pregnant belly.
“This my car. I don’t need no back-seat drivers,” she said, looking at her in the rearview mirror.
“Whatever. If you get into an accident, I’m suing the fuck out of your ass.”
“Damn, I shoulda let that nigga suck my pussy,” Coconut said while filing her nails in the passenger seat. “He looked like he knew what he was doing, too.”
“First off, what about Jake?” Rhonda asked. “And, secondly, what dude you talking about? The one that was all up in Farah’s face?”
“Naw ... the nigga who stepped to me when we were leaving the dealership.” Coconut’s light skin was painted expertly with makeup. “And don’t worry about Jake. We been together so long, no matter what I do he ain’t going nowhere.”
“Girl, please,” Rhonda said. “That nigga wasn’t even cute.” She rubbed her belly. “If a nigga would’ve come up to me and said he wanted to lick my clit, I would’ve punched him in the mouth.” Rhonda was still a pretty, dark-skinned girl, with long eyelashes and doe eyes. Even being five months pregnan
t she could run rings around her friends in the shape department. Rhonda was a black man’s dream because she had just the right sized titties and ass. Too bad for them she was swept up in gangster love.
Coconut looked behind her and said, “Who cares about cute, when a nigga got loot?” She turned back around and fired up a blunt. “You saw the nigga’s ride. He probably can buy a new face if he wanted to.”
“Bitch, you wild as shit!” Rhonda laughed. “You’re old and you still fucking cars and purses. I ain’t fucked for purses in years. I’m good.”
“Yeah, that’s ’cause your nigga got you locked,” Farah said, getting off the highway to go to the restaurant a few miles away. “From the moment you got with him you been hopelessly devoted.”
“Whatever, bitch.” Rhonda laughed. “Even if I wasn’t taken, I still wouldn’t fuck a nigga just because he got a nice ride. It ain’t none of mine.”
In a mousy voice from the back Natasha said, “He wasn’t even that bad.” Everyone looked at her. “The dude in the Maybach. I mean, I woulda fucked him too.” Natasha’s complexion was middle of the road. She wasn’t as dark as Rhonda or as light as Farah and Coconut, and in the crew that made her stand out. The only thing about Natasha that fucked up her game was that she had really large titties and a flat ass. Her face was so cute that you would give her a pass, until her clothes came off and everything drooped. She was known around the hood to some as The Illusion.