Other books by Robert Johnson include:
Choosing Sides
The Epitome of Defeat
The Journey Out of Hell
He also has a downloadable self-help cd titled, How To Build A Prosperous Life by Rob Johnson
INCOGNITO
LIFE DOWN UNDER
ROBERT JOHNSON
Copyright © 2020 Robert Johnson.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Archway Publishing
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ISBN: 978-1-4808-8630-8 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4808-8628-5 (hc)
ISBN: 978-1-4808-8629-2 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020901122
Archway Publishing rev. date: 1/25/2020
CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
About the Author
1
SUNDAY, 2:00 p.m., and I don’t have shit to do. Guess I’ll go try to buy me some weed, to calm my nerves and take away the pain while I watch this damn football game. After I buy, I might as well see if somebody around here taking numbers so I can place a bet—fifty on New York, like I do every time the Jets play. Them cats down on David and Jefferson, the Cornell Projects, got the best weed around town. Let me mosey on over there to see what they got. Hope they don’t get all scared of a new face and think I’m five-o in shit—you know that’s how some niggas think. No, they won’t—not if they want this money. They going to serve me. Besides, I’m fitted just enough to look like I just got off work and need something to help me relax. Well, here we go. Let me park my Bentley. Yeah, right. Let me get out of this motherfucking Honda Accord and hope it start back up.
Hey, boss, who got the fire weed?
“Here you go, doc. What you need?”
I just need two dimes or a quo, and I’ll be straight.
“You ain’t the law, is you, man?”
Hell no. I just got off work at the factory over in Uptown. I’m trying to get me something so I can go home smoke, watch the game, and try to find a nice piece to run up in—that’s all.
“Cool, here you go. That’ll be twenty-five bones, player.”
All right, my name Incognito. Who you be so I know who to ask for next time I come around? Probably tomorrow, the day after.
“Just come. I’ll be here.”
All right boss, I feel you. Thanks. I’ll holler later.
Man, that was easier than I thought. I know this shit ain’t going take long. I won’t worry about playing my numbers today. The game almost on. I don’t want to miss nothing. Shit, I need to clean this place up. It smells like dirty clothes in here. I’ll do it after the game. Let me roll this up so I can get into my zone. Damn, this shit better than a bitch. I feel high as hell sitting here tripping off this game. These punk-ass players fumbling the ball, dropping passes. I hope they ass get benched or something, shit. I can’t believe they losing like this, 28 to 3. I’m going to take a nap so I can go to the club tonight. Matt’s over on Thirty-Fifth be jumping. Plenty of hoes be in there, and besides, I know Darius going to be there—he at the club from Wednesday through Sunday.
9:18 p.m.? Man, I slept a long time. Let me hop in the shower so I can get out of here. I guess I could wear my burgundy Guess jeans, eggshell-white Guess shirt, and white dookies. Put on some smell-good, brush the waves in, and I’m out.
The line is long, just as I suspected. It’s going take at least a half an hour to get in here. Glad it’s not too cold. For the middle of fall, it’s nice—just a small warm breeze, about fifty-five degrees. The line’s moving drastically. I’m about the tenth person now, as opposed to thirty-something. I hope when I get in there I get to dance with Jackie, the fine-ass redbone I met while walking up to the line. She was with four of her girls, all looking fine as hell, but she was hella fine. The kind of fine that makes you want to spend all your money on and be crying cause you broke the next day and didn’t even get none. Long silky hair, clear light skin, perfect round breasts, thin waist, ass pleasantly round, and just thick in the thighs … damn, I’m in love. No, but I do want to hit, maybe even taste if it smell, look, and feel good.
Finally, at the front of the door and it’s packed inside. Time to get my mack on.
As I entered the room leading to the bar for my drink, I noticed Jackie standing a far distance away across the room. She was pushing away some nigga trying to spit-game. I played it cool by just watching her. I wanted to see how many cats she was going turn away. She turned away at least five that I remember, so now it was time for me to make my move. I slid in her direction with drink already in hand so I wouldn’t have to walk back after I asked her if she wanted one. I bought her a ladies’ favorite—sex on the beach—and she was all too happy. We talked through a couple of songs, then the alcohol kicked in. We both was ready to dance.
As she pulled me by my hands to the dance floor, all I could think about was hittin’ it from the back, as she was deliciously shaped, figure showing all curves in her tightly-fitted black dress. She wasn’t a bad dancer, kinda nasty on the floor—wasn’t scared to get up close and show what she was working with. She had me ready for whatever as she was gyrating her butt on my manhood and rubbing the back of my head moving to the beat of DJ Quick. We danced through four songs easily before heading to a table to sit down.
As the conversation started to get good, her girlfriends came back, so she gave me her work number to contact her. I was amazed she was fine and had a job. I thought she would have been one of them baby-daddy-drama, Jerry-Springer soap-opera hood rats. Well, I took the number and told her I would call sometime later in the week. I could see her girlfriends’ faces as I walked away, and from the look of one of them, they was already trying to throw salt. I already had much to drink, so I left.
I got home and went straight to sleep. The next morning, I was feeling every bit of the Tanqueray I drank last night. My head was throbbing with pain, and my stomach was begging for something to eat—some greasy sausages, eggs, and pancakes topped off with a glass of orange juice. Yeah, I hooked it up. After eating, I thought I better get to work, even though I was already fifteen minutes late—what the hell, they ain’t gonna fire nobody as bad as they need motherfuckers to work for they minimum-wage-paying asses. I was a pallatizer for a printing company, meaning I loaded finished print materials on
a wooden pallet and wrapped it so it could be shipped. I started out working on the day shift, then was moved to third shift, the graveyard. I had a lot of fun working there, although it wasn’t too long. I only worked a total of two months before being let go. Life goes on.
Since I was fired at the beginning of my shift, I went straight home to roll up. I needed to relieve some stress. I hit the joint hard and long—a real smoker’s hit. The potency of the weed gave me an instant high. I was in a different stratosphere, watching a fucking soccer game that wasn’t even speaking no English. I watched the game until one team won. Didn’t know the name, just knew they were wearing green and yellow. I thought I better get some weed for later that night just in case something popped off with a honey or something, so I went back to the spot to buy.
Them niggas in Cornell was deep and had all the good shit. They sure was plugged. Only if I knew who they was plugged by so I could get down too, that shit ’a be hella tight. At the spot my man remembered me, so I didn’t get no slack—he even gave me some dap. I bought two quos (quarter ounces). This time, I felt so comfortable I introduced myself. I stayed and talked a little bit, had them laughing about the small town I was from. He must have been comfortable too, cause he gave me a nickname, Hog-Mog. He and about six other dudes out there with him was cracking up and making jokes too. I went along with it—hell, the stuff was funny. I left because they started getting real busy, and I didn’t want to be in the way.
I went to the mall to do a little shopping for girls and clothes and to eat. I always ate at the Japanese restaurant when I went to the mall—only food that tastes good. The mall was in the suburbs but was patronized by people mainly from the ghetto. I guess the well-to-do folk said it’s too many hoodlums going there, so they shop at the more lucrative mall way out don’t no ghetto folks drive to cause they end up getting stopped by the cops.
It was a nice crowd for today being a weekday. Some nice honeys walking by, smelling good. I know I’m going pull one, just waiting for the right one. I see her up by the Gap store, so I walk a little faster to catch up. As she made her way into the store, I followed behind as if I was going to buy something out of the store. As she stopped by the jeans, I went over by the shirts. I picked one up and walked over to her to see if she would tell me how it looked. I asked her if she thought it was a good color for me, a little game just to spark up a conversation.
She replied, “It looks fine, but a burgundy. It would look better if the shirt was red.”
I said thank you and introduced myself. As we shook hands, she told me her name was Roxanne. We exchanged telephone numbers and parted.
I thought about her on the way to the car but the thought faded when I thought about Jackie fine ass, who I was going to call tonight for sure. I had seen some crazy shit while I was driving home, two men fighting in the middle of the street, holding up traffic. One of the men had blood running all down his face must have got cut on the top of his eye because he was getting whooped. When I finally got past all that, I thought to myself how it’s some fucked-up people in the world who need a lot of help, Jesus, or some medication. Damn! I parked the car and ran in the house because it was kind of chilly out today. Wasn’t but fifty degrees outside, and I didn’t have on a jacket. I threw my bags down, pressed play on the answering machine, and went to piss out some of that large lemonade I had.
While the messages were playing, I heard one from Roxanne, the chick from the mall. Shorty must have been really digging me or lonely to call that quick. Maybe she was just seeing if I gave her the right number. Anyway, I wasn’t ready to call her. I was thinking about calling Jackie, so I did.
“Hello, can I talk to Jackie?”
“This is her. Who is this?”
“Michael from Matt’s the other night.”
“Oh, hey, boo. What’s up?”
“Nothing, just chillin. Thought about you.”
“Thought about me, what you thought?”
“What you were doing tonight and how good you looked in that black dress.”
“Is that right? Well, I isn’t doing nothing, and thanks.”
“Yeah, I know this nice little place over on Jackson Street. They got some good ass food too.”
“What time can I pick you up?”
“Around seven.”
“Okay, see you then.”
She gave me her address before we hung up to my surprise, because I thought she was going say no, but I was happy she didn’t.
It was already going on four, so I had to hurry up and jump in the shower so I could hit the barbershop to get a nice cut. I wanted to look extra tight so I could leave a lasting impression on her, maybe even get some tonight.
I didn’t know how this new barber was cutting, so I wanted to make sure I got a chance to see some of the work. I got there in fifteen minutes. The dudes were tight. I have to admit, they were good. I seen three heads get cut by a different two of the four barbers and was impressed. I got in the chair of the owner of the shop because he was good with the straight razor, and I like to have a smooth-as-a-baby-bottom shave. The ladies like that, and it looks good when you have a nice lining and good fit. Plus, the smell-good goes on better. After I got cut and shaved, I paid the bill and gave a tip left and rode around looking for some flowers before heading to pick up Jackie.
Jackie lived all the way on the other side of town, so I had to rush on the expressway to get there in time. I didn’t want to be late. I made it to her house to be surprised at what I had seen thus far. She had a beautiful two-story brick home with well-kept landscaping. I peeked in at the back yard before I rang the doorbell just to see if it was as big as the fence hiding it was. I rang the doorbell and was answered by intercom to the sound of Jackie’s voice. Jackie opened the door with a smile, as if she had just seen a family member or loved one she hadn’t seen in a while.
She was looking astonishing, just as I had expected or fantasized, in her sheer gray after-five dress, black high heels, and fruitful fragrance, blended with her natural body odor. As we began walking to the dining room after my invite in, I noticed she was not wearing any panties as the light hit her backside, which was pleasantly appetizing, as it bounced around just enough to make me want to bite it. During my look, I became aroused, and now had to hide it so she wouldn’t notice. Didn’t want her to know she had me hooked already. She gave me a tour of the premises as we made small talk. We kept each other laughing as we talked about her house, our work, her outfit, and the day’s events. I was surprised at how relaxed she was, and even me for that matter, because I am usually shy around beautiful women. She grabbed her coat and told me she made reservations at a restaurant over on Jackson Street, The African Hut. When she told me the name, I laughed. I didn’t know they had a special food. I asked her what they serve, fried zebra or lion. She laughed and said, “No, silly, they got some great chicken dishes, pork, fish, and vegetarian.” I was cool with it and just laughed all the way to the car.
I opened the door to see if she would unlock the other doors for me, which she did. That was a good thing, because if she didn’t, that would mean she was selfish. Glad she not. In the car, I let her pick the radio station she wanted to listen to just to get a better feel for her personality. She picked an oldies station—another test she passed. Showed she had class but knew how to get loose and wild but kept it at the club, because all they play is fast club-type songs. The ride wasn’t long because it was close to her house, about two miles.
We pulled up to valet parking and a nice decor on the outside. The inside was nice and cozy. Had dimmed lighting, candles lit on every table, and white tablecloths. I could tell she frequented the place because as the waiter greeted her, he asked if she would like to sit at her usual table. So we sat at the table far in the back, away from most of the patrons but not secluded. We were served some great fried cheese balls as appetizers to dip in a mildly spiced tomato sauce. During e
ating, we got a little more in depth with our conversation, learning more about each other’s goals, dreams, fantasies, and past relationships. After we got finished eating our curry chicken served on top rice pilaf and a glass of red wine, we was ready for the club.
The club of choice tonight was not Matt’s but Club Erogenous. Erogenous was in the same downtown location as the Hut. I had never been to Erogenous but heard a lot about it. Jackie was more of a nightlife person, I guess because she had to relieve some of the stress she endured from her corporate accounting job she did in the day. We didn’t have to wait in the long line. Apparently, she had VIP with the club bouncer. He even called her by her name. I thought to myself, This chick is connected. This was an elegant club too. It had neon lights circling the floor, the ceiling lights just dimmed enough to see one another, the right music playing, just great. We did have to wait some time for our drinks because the servers were very busy filling other orders. Finally, we received our drinks—two sex on the beaches and a bottle of Moët—after twenty minutes passed. The drinks were nice, just what I needed to get me a little more relaxed and social. Alcohol always did that to me.
I was now feeling like God’s gift to women. I knew I was going be sleeping on her sheets tonight. We danced awhile, finished off the bottle of Champagne, and left. During the drive home, the conversation got heated. We started talking about what positions we liked the best, which ones we tried, and what gets each other aroused. I was really aroused when she told me she liked it missionary and doggy style, just the way I like to give it. As we were approaching her house, she took my hand and placed it between her thighs right on her wet spot. As she glided my hand up and down her wet vulva, she looked me up and down with a devilish smile.
2
MY place is a wreck. I have to clean up before the landlord comes to collect the rent. Don’t want her—or anybody, for that matter—to think I am a pig. I have clothes lying everywhere, old pizza box on the counter, beer bottles on the coffee table—takes me back to my sorority days, before I matured. Man, this is a mess. This is not like me, but it is kind of cool to be outside of my meticulous neat-freak mode. Toss this in here for the laundry, garbage bag all of this in the refrigerator and vacuum across the floor, a touch of air freshener, and everything is back to normal. All of thirty minutes, just in time for Mrs. Holland’s 12:30 visit, which she keeps every fifteenth day of the month because I’m always late with the rent.
Incognito Page 1