by Omar Tyree
This boy fucks like a rabbit, she thought as she laid there, disgusted.
Cash was embarrassed. Tracy told him to be calm and try it again, as if she was the more experienced one. They laid there a few minutes. Cash then tried to make it last longer by ignoring how good Tracy felt to him. But it didn’t work. He erupted a second time in just minutes.
“DAMN! You got some good shit!” he roared, amazed and embarrassed at the same time.
Tracy laughed and rolled out from under him. “I’m gonna take a shower,” she told him. She giggled to herself while in the shower at how ridiculously quick he was. She ran the soap in between her legs, exciting herself, and dreaming of Victor Hinson. Victor would have made it last. He knew how to control his body and hers. And Tracy loved the way he whispered in her ear, confirming her pleasure every step of the way. He had never been repetitious or whipped like Timmy had been. He always tried something new. Victor made Tracy feel everything that lovemaking was supposed to feel like. All that was left for him to do was to tell her that he loved her.
Tracy dried herself to give Cash one more try at pleasing her. She playfully dove back into bed and squeezed his behind, attempting to arouse him again.
Just feeling her cool naked body next to his gave Cash a hard-on. They went at it for a third time. Tracy breathed heavy into his ear, rubbing his hips into hers. And finally, it had lasted long enough for her satisfaction. They laid there, exhausted and wrapped into each other’s arms until they eventually fell asleep.
They awoke about seven o’clock that early evening. They redressed to have dinner and returned home before it got too late. They rode in the jeep quietly on the return trip. Cash still felt embarrassed, afraid to ask the “younger-girl” what she was thinking about. He assumed that she was thinking about them.
Tracy looked at him and smiled. “Ay Cash?”
“What?”
“How many girls have you had?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Cash wanted to make up an excuse, but it was nothing that he could say without inflating Tracy’s head about her sexuality. She had blown his mind, and most of the respect that she had had for him was lost.
Tracy hopped out of the jeep with her bags at the corner. “Well, I’ll see you whenever,” she said.
Cash responded blandly, “Yeah, aw’ight then.” He drove off quickly.
Tracy snuck her bags into the house, stretched out on her bed and was bored with him. She thought about their experience at Atlantic City and cracked herself up. “I gots to tell Carmen about this,” she mumbled to herself.
Raheema walked to her classes nervously on Monday morning. It was her big day with Chuck. He had convinced her to pay him a visit, and he was waiting for her after school.
Raheema walked quietly with him to the bus stop. While on the bus, Chuck threw his arm around her neck. She didn’t want to break her promise to him, but she was really unsure about things. You’re not even my boyfriend, she wanted to tell him. Nevertheless, she was headed with him to his house.
“So what do you wanna do?” Chuck asked with a grin as soon as they had arrived.
“I don’t know,” Raheema responded, looking away.
Chuck walked over and sat next to her on the couch.
Raheema jumped up and said, “Excuse me, but I have to go to the bathroom.” She was lying, nervous as a cow in a meat factory. She sat in an empty chair when she returned.
“Why you sit over there?” Chuck asked.
“Oh, I just sat down. Why? Does it make a difference?”
Chuck shook his head at her evasiveness. “Come here and sit on my lap.”
Raheema did.
Chuck then began to caress her breasts.
She hastily grabbed his hands. “Don’t.”
“What?” he responded to her, confused.
Raheema asked him innocently, “Why you gotta feel all on me?”
Chuck thought it was agreed upon that they would have sex. He pulled her down by her neck to kiss her, and Raheema could not stop him. They kissed longer than she expected as he caressed her breasts again. She moaned, feeling herself losing control. Chuck unfastened her bra through her shirt. Raheema then grabbed his head and bit into his high-cut hair.
Chuck pulled his head away from her teeth. “The fuck are you doin’?”
Raheema was embarrassed at her inexperience.
Chuck got up and yanked her hand. “Come on,” he told her, leading her up the stairs and into his room. Raheema’s heart was racing like the wind. She even wondered if Chuck could feel it through her hand. He took off his clothing, standing butt-naked and erect as soon as they entered his messy room. And he was quite muscular. He didn’t have any scars on his athletically framed body.
Raheema turned to avoid staring at him. Chuck came closer to take her clothing off. Raheema stood terrified as she felt his hot, hard organ, bumping up against her while he took off her clothes. Chuck then tried to move her to the bed, but Raheema would not allow him.
“What’s wrong?”
Feeling nauseous, she could no longer take it. She covered her naked, light-skinned body and told him, “I don’t wanna do this.”
“Well, what ’chew come over here for?”
Raheema sat on the bed, attempting to redress in a hurry.
Chuck howled, “Naw, fuck that shit! You ain’t playin’ wit’ my dick!” He grabbed her, pushing her down on the bed and plying at her legs.
Raheema yelled, “No! Get off of me!”
“Why you come over here and play with me, girl?” Chuck asked, holding her arms down.
Raheema whined, “I’m not. Just get off of me.” She made sure to keep her legs closed.
Chuck tried again to get them open.
Raheema screamed, “HELP! SOMEBODY!”
“Aw, you’s a stupid bitch,” he responded, nervously. He didn’t want a rape charge on his hands.
Raheema rushed to collect her clothing from the floor. She dressed in a hurry and made a break for the front door.
Chuck roared, “Go ahead and leave, you retarded bitch. I never liked your stupid ass anyway!”
Raheema dashed out of his house and sprinted home in tears, determined not to tell anyone. “It’s all my fault for going over there in the first place,” she mumbled. She made sure she straightened up her face before she made it back to her house. She couldn’t give her parents any clue about what had happened to her.
I won’t try this mess again, she told herself, glad to have escaped.
Raheema went up to her room and sobbed helplessly into her pillow. She could never be like Mercedes or Tracy. It was too late to be like them. She felt too tense about sex, or relationships in general. Or maybe Chuck was the wrong person. She could feel new bumps already beginning to form under the makeup. She popped them, no longer caring about the scars they would leave. She washed the makeup off to see how unattractive her beautiful skin had become. Mercedes had not seen a bump on her skin. Life wasn’t fair, but Raheema decided to hold on instead of joining the fast-paced streets. She had no other choice; she was not prepared to handle it.
“Ay Tracy, tell me when you through with your boyfriend, ’cause I wanna school you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’m for real, though.”
“I know, but that don’t mean that I’m gonna talk to you.” Tracy walked to her class, wearing her Gucci sneakers and carrying her Gucci bag after dismissing another hopeful at school.
“Well, what do I have to do to attract you?” the boy asked, following her.
Tracy said, “Just be yourself. And if I’m not attracted to you now, I never will be.”
Everyone in “G-Town” high school talked about Tracy. But none of them, except for Timmy, had been able to receive her favor. She had dyed her hair honey-blonde on top with huge curls. It was long in the back and pointed on the sides. Tracy was the shit, and no one could tell her differently.
Cash continued to add something to h
er overabundant wardrobe each week, like the long leather coat she had received after Thanksgiving. He picked her up from school every day, watching her every move to see if she would try to play him, or in other words, treat him with disrespect. It was inevitable. Cash was giving her everything she wanted, and he was starting to bore her.
“So what happened in school today?” he asked, driving her home in cold December weather. Tracy wore her green leather bomber that Patti had helped her buy.
Tracy answered, “The usual.” She then looked away as if she had no conversation for him.
Cash frowned at her. “What ’chew think, you’re special now or somethin’?”
Tracy smiled, realizing that she was getting under his skin with her better-than-thou attitude. “No,” she answered him.
Cash wasn’t satisfied with just that. “I’on know about you, girl.” He kept his eyes on the road, listening to a Boogie Down Productions tape.
Tracy responded too boldly, “You got other girls anyway. You don’t need me.”
Cash pulled over and stopped the jeep. He sat and stared out of the window before speaking. “Now what are you tryin’ to say?” he asked her.
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”
“Naw, you actin’ like you wanna call it quits.”
“Did I say that?”
“Look, I’m gon’ pick you up to talk about this later on, ’cause I got some runs to make.”
Tracy sat contentedly, deciding not to comment.
Cash let her off around the corner from her house. Tracy walked to her steps and spotted Raheema, staring out of her window. They still had not been speaking to each other. Tracy ignored her. She walked into her house to clean up the kitchen like Patti had asked her. The kitchen was extra messy after Patti had had a get-together party with friends. Pots, glasses and plates were everywhere. Tracy had not washed a dish load like that in years. She was not too pleased about it either.
“We need to get this damn dishwasher fixed!” she screamed. “Where’s a good father when you need him?”
After she finished with the dishes and had returned home with Jason, who had started kindergarten, they sat on the living-room couch watching The Transformers. Tracy could not help thinking about a few dishes she had accidentally shattered in her hasty rage.
Jason said, “Tracy, help me get some cereal.”
“No, Jason. Mom’s about to come home and fix you some leftovers from last night.”
“I don’t want that,” he told her on his way to the kitchen. “Come on, Tracy,” he insisted, pulling at her arm for her to go with him.
He gave up on her and went to the kitchen to try and get the cereal by himself. Patti entered the door hearing a big crash. She ran to the kitchen behind her daughter and found Jason curled up into a ball on the floor, crying while holding his head, with spilled cereal surrounding him.
Patti asked, “What the hell is going on, Tracy?” Jason had a lump on the left side of his forehead. “Now what happened, boy? What were you trying to do?”
“I asked her to help me, and she ain’t do it.”
Patti looked at her daughter with evil dark eyes.
Tracy looked away.
“I asked you to watch him, girl, and I’m a little tired of your irresponsibility around this damn house. Look at this big knot on his head.”
Tracy smiled helplessly at her brother’s knotted forehead.
“You think this is a damn joke, don’t you?” Patti asked. She smacked her daughter in the mouth as Tracy tried to back away.
“See, mom, all that wasn’t even called for,” she responded, grabbing her lip.
Patti challenged her, “When you wanna try me, you just let me know.”
Tracy thought about her mother’s challenge. She decided it was too risky.
Tracy sat in her room doing homework with a swollen lip.
Patti walked in with a bag of broken dishes that she had found hidden inside of the trash. “Tracy, umm, what the hell you trying to pull here?”
Tracy knew she was caught. There was no way out.
Patti said, “Girl, I’m about to rip your damn neck off.” She reached across to smack her daughter again. Tracy was quick enough to duck. That only made Patti angrier. She rushed her daughter to the bed.
“I’m tired of you, Tracy. You’re about ready to get on my last damn nerve. You think you’re cute with this hair and this expensive shit you got on?” she asked, while strangling her daughter by the collar.
“No,” Tracy whimpered. “Mom, you’re choking me.”
“Why should I let you up?”
“It was an accident.”
“It ain’t no accident that you think everything is a damn joke around here. And the next time something happens, I’m gon’ be all over you.”
Tracy was not as afraid of Patti as she was the first time.
Later that evening, through her front window Tracy noticed Cash pulling up in his jeep. She grabbed her coat to go with him.
Patti shouted, hearing the door slam, “TRA-CY!”
“Hurry up and get outta here!” Tracy told Cash.
Patti arrived at the door too late. She would be waiting for Tracy when she got back home, with a can of ass-whipping.
“Damn, what happened to your lip?” Cash asked, laughing.
Tracy looked in the vanity mirror. “My mom hit me.”
Cash giggled. “I remember when my mom used to beat up my sisters.” he told her.
“So where we goin’?” Tracy asked, ignoring him.
“Oh, we got one stop to make before we go to my crib.” Tracy wanted to ask why they would be going to his “crib,” because she was not planning on giving him any. But she decided to hold her tongue for a while. She was happy she had some money in her pocket though, just in case he didn’t want to take her back home.
Once they had arrived at their destination, Tracy hopped out of the Bronco. “I’m comin’ with you this time.”
“For what?” Cash snapped. He didn’t like the idea.
“Because, I’m not gon’ be sitting out here in the cold, looking stupid.”
“Well, I thought you didn’t like these drug houses.”
“I don’t,” she responded, following.
Cash knocked. Sam looked out of the window before letting them in. “Well looka’ here. She’s a beautiful thing, ain’t she?”
Tracy felt disgusted that he was even close to her. She quickly moved away from him. Sam may have been an old pervert.
“I ain’t gon’ hurt ’cha,” he responded to her. “What ’chew think I’m the ‘Big Bad Wolf’ or somethin’?”
Tracy sneered at him as she walked farther away, inside of the half-empty living room.
Cash asked, “So where’s my stuff at, man?” He pulled out a roll of bills.
Sam said, “Oh, Lou got it. But he got a trick upstairs with him right now. Just wait a few minutes. He should be almost finish with that hoe by now.” Sam smiled at Tracy and said, “Excuse me, young and beautiful, but if you’re gonna be around the game, then you might as well know how it is.”
Tracy sat on a couch. She thought about what low-life of a woman would fall to the point of giving up her body for cocaine. She played with her nails, taking peeks up at the steps. Cash and Sam continued to joke around, but Tracy was more interested in the “trick” they were referring to. She could hear the footsteps upstairs.
Cash roared, “AY LOU, HURRY UP, MAN! I ain’t got all day!”
“SHET UP, YOUNG-BOAH’!” Lou shouted back down.
Tracy loosened up, still watching the steps. She could see and hear the woman coming down. She stopped to have last words at the top of the staircase. Her voice was deep and raspy, like an older woman’s. Tracy could see her legs on the steps. They then met each other’s stare, as Cash and Sam noticed the unspoken communication between them.
Tracy could not believe her eyes. She blinked at the nightmare. The young woman that she had known had lost at least fifteen
pounds. She was frail and crooked in her stance. Her long hair looked damaged and oily, and her smooth walnut-brown skin had lost its shine. She walked from the stairs, wearing a dingy white leather jacket and turned her head from Tracy.
Tracy was embarrassed beyond words. She looked at the floor, and then at the walls and back at the floor again, avoiding further eye contact, while holding back her tears of empathy. Finally she cried, covering up her face to hide her watery eyes. Her expectations had been shattered. Tracy wanted to run home and slam her head into her pillow and wake from the nightmare. But it was not a dream. It was real.
“It’s my God-damn life, Tracy. I don’t have to answer to nobody.” She wiped her stuffed-up nose and staggered to the door, staring back at Tracy. But Tracy refused to look at her.
“Oh, you won’t even look at me now, hunh? Well, life is hard, girl, and I fucked mine up, so get off my got’damn back.” She began to cry herself as she walked out, ashamed to have been discovered by her young friend.
A tear dropped from Tracy’s right eye and slid through her hands. She wished that she could keep her eyes closed forever. She realized her road had to change.
the reformation
hard times
All of the lights were out at her home when Tracy had gotten back in. She opened the door and nearly tripped over four trash bags. She curiously looked inside of them and found much of her clothing. She then looked over to the living-room couch and noticed her mother stretched out as if she had fallen asleep while waiting for her. Too upset to think about the message her mother was sending, Tracy headed up the stairs to her room. Once she had made the journey up the steps, she crawled into her bed, which felt extra-soft after the shock she had been through. She ran her fingers over her face and through her honey-blonde-topped hair. If she had heeded her mother and stayed in the house, maybe she would have never experienced the nightmare.