by T. N. Baker
Chapter 4
EPIPHANY
Shana had been calling me all day. I knew she wanted to hit the club that night. Lately I hadn’t been in the mood to do anything. It had been a week since that muthafucka got me for some pussy. All I knew was I got the hell outta there as fast as I could. Anyway, fuck that nigga. He got that—for now.
That wasn’t the first time the pussy had been taken, though, and that whole situation just brought back memories. When I was a kid, my father’s brother lived with us, and I remembered him always sweating me. He would always be like, “C’mere,” bragging to his boys about my cuteness, saying, “Yo, I got a fly-ass little niece. She gon’ put a hurting on them cats when she get older.”
Uncle Ramel was always buying me gifts and giving me money. Then, at the tender age of twelve, he took my virginity—only he ain’t grab me by my neck and force himself inside of me. It wasn’t nothing like what that stupid muthafucka Smitty did to me. It was a gentle kind of rape. He was my uncle, my father’s baby bro, and I trusted him.
It was uncomfortable at first, but shit, it went on for so long that I started to enjoy it. He was eighteen at the time and out there slanging them thangs for my father, so his gifts always got better, and so did the amounts of cash he would give me. By the time I was fifteen and he was twenty-one, I was fucking and sucking his dick like a professional. Call it sick, but after a while, you adjust to a situation. That is, until the nigga started getting jealous when boys came around, acting as if I was his girlfriend or something.
His behavior made me realize how sick he really was. I started to feel disgusting, him carrying on like that. I would fuck with him by putting emphasis on Uncle when I called him. Every time he would look at me and I felt it was inappropriate, I would always threaten to tell my father, just to have control over him.
Guess he couldn’t take the heat anymore, or the chance that I might one day tell, so he moved out. Now we tried to avoid each other as much as possible, but when I do see him at family functions, I got off on flaunting my cuteness in his face and calling him Uncle Ramel. He still looked at me like he wanted me, but what could he say? He created a monster.
I guess that’s where I got my “get what I can get with the pussy” attitude from, huh? Shit, everything came with a price. Thinking back on all this was crazy, but the point I’m trying to make is even my uncle paid for the pussy, and so would Smitty, one way or another!
I picked up Shana a little after midnight. In New York, the parties were just getting started around 1:00 a.m. It was the weekend, so I knew the traffic would be a little crazy once we hit the city. Shit, you had to fight with the yellow cabs just to get to your destination.
The club was off the hook, as usual—except I needed to party with the very important people. Since I had the gift of gab to go along with my beauty, I was always able to talk a man into anything. After downing a straight shot of Hennessey, I knew working my gift on the big, ugly bouncer, who was guarding the VIP section like it was a meal, would be a piece of cake.
B.I.G.’s “Big Poppa” was playing. Dom P, Cristal, and bottles of water were all the bar was selling. Now, for those (like me) who didn’t know, the water was for the ecstasy poppers. Shana let me in on that secret, because she got down too.
“Girl, what don’t your project-ass do?” I laughed. “Shit, I don’t need a pill to enhance my sex. If a nigga’s pockets is stacking and he don’t mind splurging, then I’m like Burger King, he can have it his way.”
There were definitely a few hit record makers in the house, along with a couple of one-hit wonders still trying to floss from a hit they made five to ten years ago. I mingled away from Shana because she was being a real groupie. I kept telling her these niggas didn’t respect groupies. If you wanted them to notice you, you had to act as if you were just as important as they were and not pay they asses no mind (You know, a discreet groupie, like myself).
By the end of the night, the champagne had me feeling real horny, and since my discretion wasn’t working, I called Malikai on his cell and told him to meet me at my place. He didn’t ask any questions before he agreed, and why should he? It was five o’ clock in the morning, and the only thing I knew that opened up at that time was legs. He knew exactly what I wanted—to be buck naked, getting fucked, listening to some R. Kelly’s “Bump and Grind” until the smell of boodussy filled the air (meaning booty, dick, and pussy). When the smell of sweat and sex hit the air, you knew that shit was good.
Malikai had spent the past two nights with me. I could tell he wanted to take our relationship to another level. He was such a sweetie, and we did have a lot of fun together, but if his pockets didn’t run deep, he might’ve been history a long time ago. We’d been kicking it for maybe about a year now, and his dick game had always been kinda whack, plus it was smaller than your average penis.
I always wondered if a nigga with a little dick knew his shit was little. Somebody had to get pissed off or frustrated and tell his ass at some point in his life. It was always a catch-22 with these niggas. If he looked good, nine times out of ten the nigga was walking with deep pockets and a short reach (meaning he wasn’t coming up off no dough). If he had some dough and freely gave it up, he was either ugly as hell, horrible in bed, or sometimes both.
Who knew if I’d ever settle down. Maybe one day I’d get lucky, maybe not, but if that was the case, I surely didn’t have a problem with being single and having fun.
I guess everybody couldn’t be lucky like Keisha, with a good-looking, faithful man who took care of her, stacked dough like crazy, and let her tell it, was a freak in bed too. Shit, fuck having the best of both worlds; she had the whole world in her hands.
Speaking of Keisha, I had to call and see how she was doing. I couldn’t believe she was gonna be a baby’s momma. Better her than me. I was a strong believer when it came to abortion. Shit, I’d already had seven, please believe it. I didn’t have no time to be having nobody’s baby.
Chapter 5
KEISHA
I got a call from Epiphany, and we actually made plans to check out a movie and grab a bite to eat that afternoon. I was upset with the way she’d been treating me since I got pregnant. Hanging out with Shana and E, reminiscing on old times, made it all better though. I laughed so much I almost peed in my pants three times. I hadn’t seen Epiphany in about five months. To them, the past seven months went by fast; for me, it wasn’t moving fast enough.
“I really miss you guys,” I said, startin’ to get teary-eyed. E laughed then reached over and gave me a tight hug, while Shana teased me for getting so emotional. I finally got to announce my engagement. Although Tucker and I hadn’t set a date, I made both my girls promise to be there when we got married. We were having such a good time that I didn’t want it to end.
So much was going on with them; it was hard playing catch up. Besides the baby and getting engaged, I didn’t have anything to discuss that was as juicy as what was going on in their lives. All I knew was I couldn’t wait to drop this load, not because I felt like I was missing out on what was in the streets, but because I was lonely and I missed times like these with my homegirls. For once, Epiphany didn’t say anything to piss Shana off, which was good but rare.
Lately, Tucker had been back and forth out of town a lot. I was used to him being gone all the time, but he had promised to stay in town more toward the end of my pregnancy. His bullshit was really starting to bother me. Every time I said something, he said I was adding on to his stress, or I didn’t have his back. So, I just keep quiet, but when his son got here, that nigga had better change his program.
I’d been spending a lot of time on the computer, meeting some interesting people online. I was logging into those kinky chat rooms, since I hadn’t been getting much loving. What’s wrong with living vicariously through others? Hell, I think I was addicted. I went by the name of BAPS, meaning bomb-ass pussy sweet. It was just innocent fun. Besides, it helped me keep my mind off my man’s whereabouts.
Chapter 6
SHANA
I was glad that Epiphany finally got around to hanging with Keisha. The girl got on my nerves asking about her all the time. She had to realize that we were all grown up now and shit wasn’t gon’ be like it used to. Everybody was livin’ their own life. It was cool getting together and chillin’ like back in the days, but this wasn’t back in the day, and that close shit was slowly fading.
I met this chick, Chasity, from Pomanock Projects in Flushing. She got her dance on out in Jersey, too. We took the Path train together. She was cool as hell. I didn’t fuck with too many bitches, but we just clicked. One night, we were doing a gig out in Brooklyn with this other chick she was cool with from out there. I didn’t really want to fuck with Brooklyn ’cause that shit was just too close to home. I wasn’t ready to be on front street shaking my ass, but fuck it—$150 for three sets plus tips wasn’t bad at all.
When we arrived at the spot, it looked sort of like a warehouse inside, but it was set up real nice. I noticed there was nothing but girls up in there. Now, I know how chicks like to pile up in the club when it’s free before ten o’clock, but it was almost twelve.
“Yo, I know we ain’t dancing for no girls,” I said to Chasity, who didn’t seem surprised at all.
“I didn’t wanna tell you ’cause I knew you wouldn’t be with it, but dancing for the women is where them dollars is at, girl.”
It didn’t take much to convince me. I’d done worse shit than that. Hell, these chicks liked what the niggas like, so how bad could it be? She still could’ve told me though.
Chasity’s homegirl’s stage name was Scar. I asked her, “Why Scar?” She said it was ’cause if she didn’t leave a scar on a nigga’s heart, she’d damn sure leave one on his pockets. Now, that was deep. I thought to myself that her and Epiphany would probably get along good.
I decided to call myself Cream, so I chose “Ice Cream” by Wu Tang Clan as my introduction song.
I couldn’t believe how wild they went when I came out on stage. Those dollars was flying. The shit was a rush for me, because women are your worse critics, but these chicks liked what they saw. I even got a few numbers handed to me after my dance, but I wasn’t with that carpet munching shit.
Chapter 7
EPIPHANY
Malikai was going out of town a lot more since his boy Tucker had to stay closer to home until his baby was born. Malikai was starting to bore me. He never wanted to do nothing but lay up when we were together. The money was still good, but he was out of town more than he was home. Shit, the nigga even had a crib down in North Carolina. He invited me to come chill with him, but I wasn’t feeling him anymore, and the sooner he caught the hint the better.
It was comedy night at the Manhattan Proper. The spot was off the hook and always packed with niggas. A lot of Brooklyn cats were up in there too, I guess because they said Queens girls looked good. Should you expect anything less from a borough called Queens?
Shana’s ass hadn’t called me back yet, even after I paged her “911” about an hour before. Fuck her. It could’ve been important. She’d been on some different shit lately. I didn’t know what, but I wasn’t fucking with her.
I called up Tanya, this girl I went to high school with. We had run into each other about a week ago at the mall and exchanged numbers. She was cool enough to hang out with.
Tanya was with it and she could drive, so for once I didn’t have to be the designated driver. She came to get me around 10:30 p.m. ’cause you gotta get there early if you want a good seat. We smoked a little weed to help us get silly, just in case the show wasn’t funny.
It was exactly ten forty-five when we arrived. The only seats that were available were by the bar, which was cool, but the people talking around the bar made it hard to hear the jokes.
I ordered a Henny on the rocks and an Amaretto Sour for Tanya, while she went to the restroom. That girl was crazy. You should never go to the bathroom while the comedians are performing, ’cause you have to pass the stage, and they will crack on your ass. She got off easy this time though, ’cause the girl that walked behind her was comical—wearing some shit she knew her big ass shouldn’t have had on. Somebody should have warned her, because the comedian lit her ass up.
“Girl, some guy was trying to talk to me just now by the pay phones. He said he’ll be over to buy us some drinks,” Tanya said, all excited. I just smiled. Besides her nice-ass shape and shoulder-length hair, homegirl was not cute at all, so good for her.
Then Corey, better known as C-God, walked over to the bar. I couldn’t believe he was coming over to talk to Tanya. He could have pulled any girl he wanted. C-God was black and ugly, but he had money, confidence, and a cockiness about him that turned me on. He tried to get at me years ago, before the money, but a lot of things have changed since then. He was definitely looking kinda good.
Tanya passed him her number, but judging by the look on his face, I could tell he felt like he had just chosen cake but wanted hot apple pie. I was the pie. It wasn’t like he expected me to be here chilling with her. I hadn’t seen him in years.
C-God ordered our drinks. He was blinged out, diamonds everywhere—ears, neck, wrist, and pinky finger. I had my game face on. The eye contact between us was crazy. I wanted him just as bad as he wanted me.
“Damn, somebody must be treating you good, ’cause I remember when you was a toothpick, and you know they say love fattens you up,” I said seductively as the alcohol started kicking in.
He flexed his muscles and said, “It ain’t fat, baby. It ain’t fat at all.”
It was getting hot in there, and for every slick little comment I made, he came right back at me with one of his own. I wasn’t sure if Tanya caught on or not, but she had to be slow or stupid not to see our chemistry. It was so obvious.
C-God was chilling with his boy Reggie, who must have known what time it was, ’cause he kept Tanya distracted with small talk, while C-God’s eyes undressed me, and I loved every bit of it. I wanted his ass right then and there. It wasn’t like he was a stranger or anything, I knew him for years in passing. Who cared if Tanya gave him her number? He could do better. He knew it, and so did I. All type of shit was going through my head, and the more I drank, the better he looked.
“Yo, y’all ladies wanna go grab a bite to eat with me and my man?” C-God said, looking in my direction. I smiled and said I was with it.
Since Tanya drove her car, they followed us to her house to park, so we could all ride together. I was hoping the bitch had to work early in the morning so I could roll solo, but Tanya walked right up to C-God’s truck and sat up front with him.
Once we got to the diner, she still played him close. I knew what time it was, so I let her have her fifteen minutes of fame. We all laughed, cracked “yo’ momma” jokes, and drank some more until the sun was starting to rise.
On the way out, I saw Smitty’s punk-ass sitting at a table with some Spanish-looking chick, and there went my high. I hated that muthafucka.
This time Tanya and C-God sat in the back seats on the way home. I rode in the front with Reg. She was all over C-God, and I knew it was only because she felt our vibe. But after seeing Smitty’s pussy-stealing-ass, I wasn’t in the mood to play any more games. Tanya could have him for now.
Later that morning, I woke up on the wrong side of the bed with a banging-ass headache. I got up to get some Advil when the phone rang. It was Malikai, questioning me with the who, what, why, and where I was all night. He picked the wrong time of day to call and play daddy. I let his ass have it, and before I hung up the phone, I told him not to call me anymore because I was already fucking someone else. I lied, but that was all I could think of to get him mad enough to not want me anymore. Besides, I no longer wanted what was behind door number two. I had my eye on the grand prize.
C-God and I had some unfinished business to tend to. I didn’t know how I was gon’ make it happen since I didn’t have his number, but where there’s a will,
there is a way.
* * *
A week had passed since we all hung out together, and Tanya couldn’t wait to let it be known that she was fucking C-God. I was pissed about that whole situation. How the hell did he choose her over me? And I know she enjoyed rubbing that shit in my face. The bitch had the nerve to ask me to hang out with them that night because Reggie had been asking about me. Bullshit! I barely said two words to that nigga. Why would he ask about me?
“Cool, pick me up at ten. I’ll roll, ’cause I ain’t doing shit else,” I said.
Tanya agreed and said she’d see me then. I had something for her ass though. The fat lady ain’t sang yet! I pulled out a pair of jeans that hugged my beautiful, round-shaped ass so well that they looked like they was painted on, a black halter top that exposed just the right amount of cleavage, my stiletto boots . . . oh, and let’s not forget my brand new Vicki’s Secret thong (just in case).
The three of them rolled up to my crib about ten-fifteen, which was cool, because I had just finished touching up my hair and makeup, which was always an earth tone eye shadow and some lip gloss. My father always said real beauty needs no makeup. A man hates to go to bed with a beauty queen and wake up to a monster. Even though I couldn’t look like a monster if I tried, I got what he was saying. If it ain’t broke, why fix it? Anyway, I hopped in the back of C-God’s Escalade and gave Reg a phony, “don’t even think about it” smile.
“Hey, girl,” I said to Tanya. “What’s up, C-God? How you been?”
“Chillin’, ma,” he responded.
And looking even better than you did the last time, I thought to myself as he constantly watched me from the rearview mirror. C-God knew what was really good, so tonight, I was gonna play the game just to see how it all panned out.