In Love with a Thug

by Reginald L. Hall

  “Hey, Ms. Bernice. It’s Juan, Bryant’s friend.”

  “Yes, Baby.”

  “Yes, I paid Bryant’s bail earlier today and I was wondering how he made out. He didn’t call me. I was thinking maybe his paperwork got mixed up or something. Has he called you?”

  She didn’t hesitate to answer my question. “Yes, Baby. Bryant has been home since around three o’clock. He came in and got in the shower and left. He’s probably out with his fiancé somewhere. I think they might have gone baby shopping. You know he spoils that pretty girl of his.”

  My heart pounded in my chest. I couldn’t get a word out. I could feel the blood rushing through my body and settling into my face. “Since three o’ clock?” I repeated to make sure I was hearing correctly.

  “Yeah, it was about three because General Hospital was on. I’ll have him call you when he gets in.”

  “Okay, Ms. Bernice,” I stated firmly before ending the call.

  Furiously I quickly cleaned off my desk by throwing everything that wasn’t useful to me in the trash. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed his number rapidly. He was sure to get a piece of my mind at this very moment. My chest burned like hell, waiting for him to answer. I held the phone close to my ear as I began to walk through the salon turning out all the lights. By the time I got to the entrance door his voice mail was answering for him. I chose not to leave a message because I wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction of hearing the sound of my voice in this heated state. As I closed my phone the ringer sound startled me as I checked the lock on the gate for the last time.

  “Hello,” I said grizzly, holding the phone up to my ear.

  “Damn, Baby, it’s nice to hear your voice too,” Bryant said playfully from the other end. My heart felt relieved from the stress but at the same time hot from his tone.

  “And where the fuck have you been?” I shouted, looking down at my watch, holding on to my man bag and getting my car keys out all at the same time.

  “Damn, what, you keeping a lock on me now? I’m out chillin’ with my boys, J. Look, don’t start trippin’.”

  I disabled the alarm on my car and stepped in. “Out with your boys, where?” I was getting heated about why he hadn’t checked in with me first, as I had paid his bail.

  “We goin’ down to Delilah’s, a gentlemen’s club, for a while and then I’ll be by to see you, aiight?” His voice was getting low. I smiled. “You goin’ wait up for me?” he added.

  I started the ignition to let some time pass before giving him an answer. “You know I will,” I responded in the nick of time before he began talking.

  “Aight, I’ma holla at you aiight. One.” The phone went silent. I sat in my car, letting Gerald Levert take me back with the words of “Casanova” as I made my way through the nightlife of Philadelphia. The thought popped into my mind about taking in a visit to see Anthony. But, at the same time, I hadn’t been out for a night on the town in awhile so I called up a few of my old friends to see what was poppin’.

  After scooping up Sketchy, one of my old classmates, we decided that we would make a night of it and pay thirty dollars to attend the Prodigy Ball being held at L&J Hall in the heart of North Philly. I loved having Sketchy with me, especially at times like this because he made me laugh.

  “Bitch, it is on tonight,” he yelled from the car as I sped through the streets. For this occasion Sketchy wore a pair of extra-tight jeans to show off his stacked physique. He also sported a pair of navy blue-and-black Steve Maddens, a skintight shirt that was covered by a brown leather ski jacket that complemented his light-skin tone. On a night like tonight and with the way I was feeling I needed to be around someone like him. This was a person who is very loud and who liked to make me laugh; and that’s one thing that Sketchy was—LOUD.

  By the time we reached the ball, the House of Prodigy was taking center floor walking their runway as a house category. The theme for tonight was “Wine and Crystals.” Every member from the house either wore the color of red wine or a heavenly color of white crystal. And all of the pretty boys strutted their stuff, taking the runway wearing wine-colored thongs. I felt the throb of my chocolate stick through my jeans. But to keep things simple, my stick would only beat for one man.

  “Work, bitch,” yelled Sketchy as he snapped his fingers as the mother of the house made her way down the runway. The DJ played the old Cheryl Lynn classic, “Got to be Real.” The crowd was hyped and the ball had officially begun. After about forty-five minutes of standing in the cut the commentator called out the face category for the House of Labuchi and of course, I took center stage.

  I walked the runway with both of my hands on my hips while smiling from left to right. The crowd of spectators clapped as if they appreciated having my face grace them with its presence. I smiled enjoyably on the outside but my heart was beating miserably on the inside. I began licking my teeth back and forth and by the time I got to the end of the runway before the judges, above all the screams and the chants, I could hear Sketchy in the background screaming, “That’s my muthafuckin’ sista.”

  I stood perched on the side of the judges as I waited to see who was gonna step forward trying to give me a run for my money. I counted silently in my head as the suited-up commentator held his microphone close and called out the competitors’ names.

  “Oh, y’all faggots are scared of Miss Juan tonight,” yelled the commentator. I glanced to the side to see my entire house members chanting our slogan: “L…A…B…muthafuckin’…U…C…H…I” as they snapped their fingers. I blinked only a few times to see who was gonna take stage. Then immediately my heart fell to the pit of my stomach when Bryant came out walking toward me from the back of the room.

  “Aww shit, Juan, I think you betta move over.” The commentator looked at me, then back at the fine hunk of a man that took the runway. The closer Bryant came toward me the sexier he looked. At about a quarter of the way he stood and ripped his T-shirt off his back as the crowd gasped at his shining six-pack.

  “Oh, daddy, put the head in,” screamed the commentator as the pit of my underarms began to sweat. I could feel my blood pressure storming through the roof as I saw my nigga flossing in front of these faggots. I couldn’t take no more. I ran over to him and grabbed him by the arm.

  “C’mon, shawty, what you doing?” he spat. “Let me go.”

  “What the fuck you mean, let you go. NO,” I said enraged as I pulled him from the runway. “You told me that you were going out with your boys.”

  “I am out with my boys,” he yelled, pointing in the direction of the House of Karan.

  “What?” I yelled.

  “If y’all gonna argue, take that shit outside. Y’all shouldn’t bring your problems to the ball. Settle that shit at home,” stated the commentator as the music stopped. Sketchy ran over to me.

  “Bitch, you didn’t tell me that your man was a piece of trade, a down-low brotha.” At that point I was furious.

  “C’mon, Sketchy, let’s go,” I yelled as I finally let go of my grip on Bryant. As I prepared myself to walk toward the door I felt a shooting pain in the back of my head. I turned around to Bryant giving me three left hooks.

  I tried my best to fight back but then the next thing I knew the whole House of Karan started in on me. I was receiving blows from every angle. People were pulling my hair and kicking me in my stomach. Sketchy ran to my aid, trying to help me off the floor.

  All I felt were the stings from my bottom lip. Unbeknownst to me Rob was there. He ran over to me, wetting a paper towel with a bottle of water, and gave it to me for my lip.

  The crowd began to scatter as I gained my composure and limped toward the door. I left L&J Hall with my face throbbing and knuckles bleeding. Rob and Sketchy walked with me to the car as the commentator continued. “DJ, pump the beat.”

  IX

  A THUG’S PASSION

  “Hello.”

  “Hello, Mr. Jiles.”

  “Yes, who’s speaking?”

 
“Hello, Mr. Jiles, this is Rasheed Winters from SunTrust Bank. How are you?”

  “I’m doing well, thanks for asking. How can I help you?” I said trying to focus my eyes on the clock to check the time.

  “Well, I was calling to follow up on you to see how things are going. Because when you left out of here the other day you were pretty upset.”

  “Things are going fine, thanks.”

  “I kinda find that hard to believe,” he stated.

  “Um, excuse me?”

  “No, I’m saying, you sound a little troubled.”

  “Um, Mr. Winters, you said your name was.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you always call to check up on your customers?”

  “Only if I take a certain interest in them I will…I took an interest in you. Well, let me be forward with you. When you came in the other day I must say that I noticed you noticing me.”

  “Excuse me? First of all, what gives you the right to be going into my personal file and getting my phone number to call me? And second, if I was troubled, which I am not, that’s none of your business. Good-bye.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Jiles, first of all, I was being nice and second, you’re as FAB as you think you are. And third, as of next week, if you don’t have a payment into us we will foreclose on your shop. Now you have a good day, Mr. Jiles.” Click. The phone went dead.

  Some nerve of that bank freak to call my damn house questioning me. And what the fuck does he mean they will foreclose on my shop. I wish they would.

  I got up from the bed and walked into the kitchen and poured myself a nice glass of Merlot. I sat down on the couch trying to recollect what had happened the previous night. The wine helped take away some of the pain in my face but what I really needed to numb me was a few pieces of candy. As I sat and drank my troubles away I let my tears fall.

  I looked around my living room and asked myself what had happened? What happened to the love that I once shared? What was left of my life after Darnell’s death seemed to shatter once I opened my salon. This is not how things were supposed to end. That afternoon I sobbed. I sobbed like there was no tomorrow. What was eating me up on the inside was finally making an appearance on the outside. I got up and walked over to the stereo and played one of my favorite CDs, Somewhere in my Lifetime by Phyllis Hyman.

  I sat there on the living room floor with my back against the wall and continued to let my tears flow. The words that Phyllis spoke cut so deep down into my soul. I closed my eyes and envisioned myself playing with my mother when I was younger; the love that my family once shared with me before this lifestyle came into play.

  “I miss you, Mommy and Daddy,” I said aloud as Phyllis took me away with her words about living all alone. The tears fell from my eyes like a raging waterfall. “Darnell,” I screamed to the top of my lungs. The tears fell more.

  “Oh, my God. What happened?” I asked over and over again. “My life, what happened?” I held my head down as the music continued to play while I sat and sipped the last of my drink.

  By the time Phyllis was telling me that the answer was me, the phone started to ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, Juan, it’s Trudy from downstairs. You have a guest here to see you. Ieshia?”

  “Yes, you can send her up,” I responded cheerfully, wiping the tears from my face. I quickly hung up the phone and tried to straighten up the mess I had made. I was very excited to be sharing human contact. I really missed being around her, plus we had a lot of catching up to do.

  The doorbell rang and I anxiously opened the door to see her standing, holding a bouquet of approximately two to three dozen roses. She was standing in a flowerbed of multicolored roses with a trail of more roses behind her leading to the elevator where Bryant stood.

  Almost immediately my eyes began tearing all over again. Ieshia stood smiling without saying a word. I looked her up and down, then down the hall to Bryant where he stood also holding a bouquet of roses with a blank look upon his face.

  “Good afternoon, sunshine,” Ieshia said before Bryant began to take his first step. I backed up in the doorway, feeling tipsy from the glass of wine I had downed. “Can we come in?” she asked. I backed away to make room for her entrance as Bryant hurried toward the door.

  “Baby, I’m sorry,” yelled Bryant as Ieshia entered my apartment. By the time Ieshia stepped all the way in Bryant was standing directly in front of my face. I looked him dead in his eyes, noticing the scratch below his right eye from where I’d scratched him the night before. I began to close the door slowly as he stopped it with his foot. I glanced down at his feet, noticing him sporting a pair of fresh shell tops without any socks.

  “What, Bryant? What do you want from me?” Ieshia stood behind me in total silence. “After what you did to me last night, you think I’m supposed to forgive you?” He stood there speechless. “And not just about last night. Nigga, you was released from prison and you didn’t have the respect to call me and let me know you were home. You’re a sorry-ass nigga,” I hissed. If no one had ever heard a pin falling onto the carpet, then now was the time.

  “Juan,” Ieshia said firmly. I turned around to stare in her direction.

  “What, Ieshia? You don’t have anything to do with this.”

  “I know I don’t have anything to do with this but you listen to me and listen to me clear.” She stared me straight in the face without blinking. “You have a man that made a mistake and is man enough to admit his mistake and say he’s sorry for what he did to you.”

  “Now I know that just because he was fuckin’ high off some shit I don’t even care to know about, does not give a reason for what he did. And he’s standing in front of you feeling every regret for doing what he did doesn’t make it right.” She set the flowers on the loveseat.

  “But what I’m gonna say is that you have a man standing in front of you. I don’t have one. I wish I did. But you do—and my suggestion to you is if you love him the way you say that you do, then you will put up with the good times as well as the bad times. Shit, I been with Antwoine four fuckin’ years and he never did no shit like this for me. Even after I put up with all his shit and, on top of that, the nigga is gay,” she said in a raised tone. I tried my hardest to keep my laugh in but I couldn’t. I even heard Bryant chuckle a bit.

  I stood there motionless, hoping that neither one of them saw that I was actually breaking down and considering the things that Ieshia had said.

  “And you know I’m right; that’s why you’re still standing there,” she added. I took a deep breath and turned back around toward Bryant. I moved out of the way to let him in and I shut the door behind him.

  “Now I’m gonna leave so y’all can make up or do whatever it is that y’all do. Juan, I’ll be at the shop if you need me.” She walked up to me and planted a kiss on my cheek before walking out of my apartment. I turned toward the door without taking my eyes away.

  “So do you forgive me?” Bryant asked, standing in a hooded sweatshirt, capris and shell tops. My emotions ran crazy as I turned around and walked slowly into his arms. He dropped the flowers on the floor and embraced me like I had dreamed. I squeezed him tight and held on for dear life, not wanting to let go. Ieshia was right; I had a man right here.

  “I’m sorry, J.J.,” he said. I let him go long enough for our lips to lock as we began to tongue wrestle. I grabbed the back of his head and tried to force him into my mouth with all my might. We backed up enough for him to lay me down on the couch. He climbed on top of me and started grinding as he began kissing all over my neck and chest. He forcefully sucked my neck, leaving a deep-red hickey, then proceeded to mark the other side.

  “I miss you so much, Baby,” he moaned erotically as he pulled up my shirt and commenced to licking all over my chest, my stomach, then planted his tongue deep into my belly button. I let out a few moans when he helped me take off my shirt. He then lifted me up and carried me into the bedroom where he wanted to do the honors of undressing me him
self. He pulled every item of clothing from me with his hands until he got to my boxer briefs. With them he wanted to take them off using only his teeth.

  After he pulled my underwear off with his pearly whites, then tossed them to the floor, he stood up to remove his hoody, sneakers, and capris. His pole stood rock at attention pointing forward through the slit of his boxers. I stretched out on top of my queen-size bed waiting for what I had been craving for over a week. My body needed this right at that very moment. I thought about the way those faggots had chanted over my nigga’s body last night at that ball. Those faggots only dreamt about having a man like mine. Once he was fully undressed he leaped onto the bed to finish what we had started in the other room. I sucked on his lips like a Hoover vacuum, tasting everything that he’d had for breakfast.

  He then stood up as I knelt down so I could lick all over his Thug. I let the firm mushroom head hit the back of my throat as I deep-throated him lovely. I sucked, sucked, and sucked some more, making love to his dick with my tasty tongue letting all my saliva drip down his shaft, causing him to arch his back like a cunt.

  I grabbed his butt and jammed his love stick down my throat as hard as I could, letting him know that after all that had happened I was in control.

  “Damn, Baby, that’s wassup. Eat this dick, kid,” he said provocatively. His ass muscles flexed with every gag. “Let me get on top,” he said as he got up to get in the position to begin tea bagging me. I laid my head down on the pillow and watched him as he positioned himself over my face. I was in paradise as he dipped down, letting his hairy balls lay on the tip of my tongue. Before I realized it, his entire sac had filled my mouth.

  “Sit up and let me fuck ya face,” he said as we switched positions for the third time. I leaned up with my back against the headboard as he pulled my head closer to his torso. He filled my mouth up with dick, dick, and more dick. I closed my eyes as he made love to my mouth as if it was teenage girls’ pussy. The headboard banged heavy against the wall as I could hear the old lady beneath me banging on her ceiling with a broomstick.