In Love with a Thug

by Reginald L. Hall

  “Well, did your boyfriend know that he was gonna get you in this much trouble?” he said in a sarcastic voice.

  “Look, Rob, I don’t need this shit right now, okay? But I do need your help,” I said, changing the subject.

  “Well, I may be the employee and you may be my boss, but I’m out here and you’re in there so you’re gonna listen to me. You have to do something with that ignorant-ass nigga you call a boyfriend. Now whatever you need me to do, I already did it.” He stopped me in my tracks.

  “Rob, what do you mean, you already did it?”

  “I already went to the salon and went through your Rolodex and called your lawyer Mr. Robert Datner, I think his name is?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he’s already on the case and he’ll have you out by tomorrow morning,” he said as my heart felt so relieved. I took a deep breath and smiled.

  “Thanks, Rob, you know what? I owe you one.”

  “Yes, you do, girl, and first we’re going to start with a raise,” he hissed. “Plus, you have a strange message on your voice mail from your former employee Jeff that I think you need to listen to,” he added.

  “Okay, I’ll listen to it first thing when I get home. What I need you to do is make sure everything in the shop is locked up and I’ll call you first thing when I get out. Okay?”

  “Okay,” he responded. I held the phone close to my ear for privacy as the other inmates starting coming back on the block from chow.

  “And Rob…”

  “Yeah.”

  “I really appreciate all that you’re doing for me. I love you,” I said before ending the call. I did that for a reason because I wasn’t prepared for what his response was gonna be and I couldn’t show my feminine side behind these walls.

  “Yo, did you read the paper today?” J-Rock asked Dre.

  “Naw, why? What was in there?”

  “They talkin’ ’bout some bull that owns a hair salon in south Philly. The Po-Po ran up in his crib and took his shit. Man, they said that they found over two hundred fifty thousand dollars’ worth of drugs in his crib and found a burner underneath his bed.”

  “Damn, fa’ real,” said Dre, now lying down on his bunk. “Man, that nigga gonna do some time for that shit.” My heart began pumping faster and faster praying that Rob came through like he said he would. I knew he wasn’t lying because he said my attorney’s name. Rob wouldn’t lie about something like that anyway. Besides Anthony, Rob was the closet thing to me.

  “Nunber nine-eight-one-five-seven-one, the counselor needs to see you,” yelled the C.O. What the hell did the counselor want to see me for? I jumped from my bunk and waited for my cell door to unlock and slide open. As I walked the tier people were staring at me through the slit of their windows watching me walk off the block. I followed the C.O. as he led me to the barbershop area where Kim was sitting in one of the barber chairs. I walked into the air conditioned room as Kim was reading the paper and talking to another female inmate.

  “Yo, let me find out that this is your ass up in this paper stashing drugs in your crib. What’s that all about?” she asked in her tiny toned voice.

  “Yo, that’s not my shit, that’s my dude’s shit,” I stated as Kim listened to me closely.

  “Well yo, all I’m gonna say is that you better say the right shit in court because if you don’t they gonna throw your ass in here like they did me. No, I’m not sayin’ snitch on the nigga, just say the right shit,” she schooled. I sat down in the barber’s chair next to hers.

  “Yo, I’m telling you. Those muthafuckin’ judges can be shiesty when it comes to handling these nigga cases and they don’t play when it comes to perjury. Shit, I’m a living fuckin’ example,” she continued. “But one thing about me is niggas like to sleep on my shit. Nigga, don’t sleep on my shit ’cause when I hit the streets, shit, they gonna hear me comin’. Now what’s up with this hair? You gonna fix this shit for me or what, Baby?

  “And if I like it, I’ma send you beaucoup clients. I’m talking about major stars in this industry so let’s get it rolling.” She pointed to the station where she set. “Here’s the only shit you can use. You can’t use any extension hair.”

  I looked up on the station to find nothing but hair combs and brushes. But to my surprise, I did find a curling iron.

  I combed, brushed, and tucked. I used the curling iron once in a while; I even used the technique that my cousin taught me about using the curling iron to bump the hair. I parted a few strands and clipped others. I laid down a few sides and added some more curls and before she knew it, I was done.

  “Oh shit, this is off the chain,” said Kim, admiring her do in the mirror. “Ayo, Brandy, come look at this shit.” Brandy got up from her seat and walked over to where Kim stood in front of the mirror posing and smiling.

  “Damn, I wish he had enough time to do my shit,” said Brandy who was sporting two braids as well.

  “Thanks, this shit is on point,” said Kim now running her fingers through her hair and winking at herself. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “My name is Juan and my shop is at Fifteen-thirty-three South Street. Don’t forget me, Kim,” I said as the C.O. tried to get my attention to take me back to my cell.

  “Oh, I’m not. As a matter of fact every time I come to Philly I’m gonna come to ya shop because my hair is bangin’.” I gave her two air kisses. “Remember what I said, Baby, you need to look out for you.”

  “I got it,” I said before letting the C.O. take me back to my cell.

  The entire tier was dark and there wasn’t a sound. I lay on my back stretched out on my bunk when I opened my eyes to Dre standing in front of me still in his boxers holding his long yellow dick in his hand. I wiped my eyes to make sure I wasn’t dreaming when I looked up to see J-Rock asleep on his side facing the wall. I lifted my head up from the flat county pillow as Dre slid his sex pole into my warm mouth. I closed my eyes as he began to gyrate his midsection toward the front of my face. I grabbed his thin waist when he began to pump faster.

  I made love to his hairy teenage dick as he grabbed the back of my head and started pumping his seven and a half inches into my eating hole. The size of his dick felt good in between my lips as I backed my head up to begin tickling his mushroom head with my tongue. I slid my hand up his wife beater and began fondling his nipple with my thumb and forefinger, letting an erotic force of stimulation shoot through his body. He closed his sexy eyes and tilted his head back as he licked his lips back and forth, then stopping by biting down on his bottom lip.

  In the groove, he began to literally fuck my face as my spit mixed in with his pre-cum. I could feel the veins of his sausage pulsate inside my mouth. I ate his dick for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Through all the stroking and the face fucking, in minutes he exploded his strawberries in my mouth as I swallowed every bit, letting his liquid massage my throat. I licked his dick up and down as it went limp and he tucked it back into his boxers. He turned around and walked over to his bunk to lie down. And I turned over and hugged my flat pillow and went to sleep with a smile on my face.

  “Number nine-eight-one-five-seven-one—discharged,” the C.O. yelled. I grabbed my flat pillow and my blanket off my bunk, nodded to Dre and J-Rock, and hurried out of the cell. I was given two tokens, a cheap sweat suit and a pair of county slippers to go home in. Instead of going home, I called Rob and had him meet me at the salon.

  “Girl, now tell me the tea,” said Rob, unlocking the door with his keys because I didn’t have mine.

  “Well, before I tell you about last night, let me tell you how the fuck I got there in the first place,” I said as I quickly went straight back to my office with Rob following behind me.

  “I cleaned up what I could from the fight the other day. Everything seems to be working as far as your computer and stuff. I do apologize about that but that bitch had it coming,” Rob explained.

  “Don’t worry about it,” I said as I sat down behind my desk and p
ushed the “play” button on the answering machine. The first message was Jeff.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you about that…,” said Rob as I put my hand up letting him know to remain silent while I gave my full attention to the message.

  “Yeah, y’all bitches thought y’all was doing something when y’all jumped me today but guess what? I got some shit for the both of you. Rob, I’m not done with you yet and Juan, you wonder why your man isn’t there for you. It’s because he’s there for me.

  “Yes, I’m fuckin’ ya man. You wonder why he never has his jeep is because I am pushing it. I’m the one that he spends his nights with. That’s my dick; now what, pussies. Fuck you and your broke-ass shop. That’s why it’s closing. Yes, I do know everything about you—you fucking crackhead.”

  Beep.

  XI

  NO MORE DRAMA

  “Damn, before you call me getting all loud and shit, can a nigga get a congratulations?” said Bryant on the other end of the phone. “I just won the custody battle for my daughter.”

  “First of all, where were you the other night? I waited up for you for hours,” I said angrily as I sat back in the chair in my office.

  “I had to take care of some business in New York. What the fuck did I tell you about questioning me?”

  “Questioning you? Nigga, why the fuck did you stash drugs in my house, Bryant?” I sat up at my desk. The salon was empty except for Rob who was waiting for me in the front.

  “What the fuck do you mean ‘why’? So the muthafuckin’ cops wouldn’t get it,” he explained.

  “Well, Bryant, you were wrong. The cops came to my fuckin’ house the other day and took all your shit and I had to go to jail for that shit,” I grunted.

  “What? Why the fuck did you let them in?”

  “Bryant, I had no choice because if I didn’t they would have knocked down the fuckin’ door. Look, I’m tired of this shit!” I yelled.

  “How did they know that I had drugs at your crib?” he asked.

  “Because that bitch Melissa went to the cops. And what the fuck are you doing fuckin’ with one of my employees?” I had to ask.

  “Fuckin’ with one of your employees? Who?” he asked, trying to play dumb.

  “What the fuck you mean who? Jeff, that’s who,” I screamed as tears starting falling from my eyes. I began sniffing when Rob came in the office offering me some Kleenex.

  “Jeff? C’mon now. I ain’t fuckin’ with that nigga. That nigga knows my sister and she came home from school to celebrate my birthday. She asked him could he do her hair. Man, I ain’t fuckin’ with that nigga,” he responded. “He sucked my dick a long time ago but I ain’t fuck that nigga,” he added.

  “What the fuck you mean he sucked your dick a long time ago? When I asked you have you ever messed with a dude before, you told me no.” I was heated.

  “Man, that shit was so long ago I forgot. I ain’t fuckin’ with dem kats like that. C’mon with that shit. Don’t try to play me like I’m some faggot or pussy or something like that cuz it’s not going down.” He gritted.

  “What? See now, Bryant, I am getting sick of your sorry ass. I might have to go to jail because of your shit,” I continued to yell as more tears fell.

  “Baby, calm down, we’re gonna get through this. I’ma get you a lawyer.”

  “Bryant, I already have a fuckin’ lawyer. You got me in some dumb shit that’s not even my fault.” I sobbed hard as I continued to sit there on the phone.

  Rob set an envelope down on my desk as I looked up at him with red eyes. “Look, Juan, I know things can’t get any worse but some guys brought this past here the other day. I think you should read it immediately.” He then left the room.

  “J.J., are you there?” he asked as I ripped the edges of the envelope open.

  “Yes, Bryant, I’m here. Since you’re so concerned about my well-being, then we both must make an appointment with my lawyer so we can figure this shit out.”

  “Well, how did you get out of jail?”

  “My lawyer got me out on an unsecured bail. I need to take him at least ten grand for him to even start on this case. I’m sure that you will help me raise the money?” I said, still holding the phone close to my ear.

  “J, you know I will do all I can for you. I’m sorry that you had to go through that shit alone. I should’ve played my part and come past the other night when you asked me to. Do you forgive me, boo?” he asked in a lower tone.

  “Bryant, I’m hot as shit at you.”

  “Okay, but check it; my gram is throwing me a victory party tonight at the crib. I want you to swing through.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot—congratulations!” I said unexcitedly as my eyes rolled in the back of my head. “Oh, I’m finally getting invited to the king’s throne, huh?”

  “Yes, you are, shawty, and I promise you that I’ma take care of Melissa’s ass for once and for all,” he said, laughing like it was a fuckin’ joke.

  “What time is the party?”

  “Have ya pretty ass here by seven, so I can chill with you only. Mariah will be gone by then,” he stated. If he could’ve not brought her name up in this conversation it would’ve worked well with me. “Do you have the address?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re gonna get it to me,” I said, giving him the grizzly.

  “It’s five-eight-two-four Chester Avenue. Have ya ass there by midnight, aiight, shawty,” he said before the line went dead. I closed my cell phone as I wiped my face from all the tears and the snot that came from my nose. I commenced to open the envelope that Rob had set on my desk. It was a letter from the bank stating that the last rent check had bounced and I must resubmit a check immediately. The balance stood in bold letters at the bottom of the page: $15,238.41.

  “Shit,” I said out loud as Rob walked into the room. He was dressed casual today wearing a navy blue T-shirt and jeans. He looked stunning compared to my jail sweatsuit.

  “Are you okay, girl?” he said, walking around my desk and bending down to give me a hug.

  “So you know about this, huh?” I said to him, pointing at the envelope. He walked back around in front of the desk.

  “Yes, I must say that I do.” He sat down in the chair. We both took a look around the room that was once my luxurious office.

  “Do you have it?” he asked blatantly. I looked at him with swollen red eyes.

  “You know what, Rob, to tell you the truth, I don’t think so,” I responded, looking away from him and down to the floor.

  “Well, Juan, the first thing is, don’t beat yourself up over something that you can’t handle. I’m sure that things will fall into place, I’m positive.” I continued to stare down at the floor as I began to cry. Rob got up and walked around to grab me with his thick arms while holding my hand and using his free hand to rub my back.

  “It’ll be okay, come on, Juan. You’re a strong person. Don’t let this break you down,” he said, still rubbing my back. I felt as though my heart could not go on. I needed a break; not merely a break from working but a break from life.

  “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” I said, letting my tears fall onto Rob’s shoulder.

  “Yes, you can. Don’t say that. Juan, as I said before, you’re a strong person and if you believe in the man upstairs, then you should know that everything will work out fine. God does not put more on you than you can handle.” Rob held me as tight as he could while I let out all my anger and all of my fears.

  “It seems like I’m at the end of my rope,” I said, sniffling. “I don’t know where to turn, my life is so fucked up,” I said, continuing to sob. He grabbed my head and held it down on his shoulder.

  “It will be okay. Trust me, Juan, it will be okay.”

  I’m young and I’m old—I’m rich and I’m poor—I feel like I’ve been on this earth many times before. I grooved to the beat of Miss Teena Marie as I drove my car nervously to the Fifty-sixth Street projects to my parents’ house. Taking a shower and slipping into my
regular clothes made me feel much better. I didn’t have any money to waste, so Rob went ahead and opened the shop today while I spent the day off. Unfortunately before I would make my appearance at Bryant’s victory party, I thought that I would make a stop to visit my parents.

  I slowly pulled into the driveway of the low-income housing buildings and parked on the side of the basketball court where the cuties were sure out running ball and flexing without any shirts on.

  “Look at this fuckin’ faggot,” hissed one of the boys whom I had grown up with. His name was Tyrone and he always stood holding up the wall waiting for customers to come by and buy his dry-ass weed. I gave him a gritty look as I stepped from my Lexus and slammed the car door. In my arms was a bouquet of red and white roses for my mom and dad and a few Hype Hair books that I was featured in. Just something I thought I’d show them to see what I had accomplished.

  I walked up the little pathway that led to my parents’ back door. I pulled my key out of my pocket and tried using it to open the door. I stuck the key in but for some strange reason it wouldn’t turn. I banged on the door.

  “Mommy, open the door,” I yelled as I looked through the miniblinds she kept at the window. She took her time coming to open the door. She finally opened it wearing a black button-down top and a pair of black slacks with a pair of sandy-brown slippers. She had a surprised look but I couldn’t tell if it was a happy surprise look or a what-the-fuck-you-want surprised look. Soon my question would be answered.

  “What do you want, Juan?” she said as I walked up to give her a kiss on her cheek.

  “Hi, Mommy, I came to see you and Daddy. Is he here?” I asked, handing her the bouquet of flowers. She took them and threw them on the kitchen table.

  “Yeah, he’s in the living room,” she said, closing the door behind her. The house smelled how I remembered it. If the smell of a delicious dinner wasn’t seeping through the rooms, you would smell the scent of Pine Sol from my mother always cleaning. But at this particular time, I smelled fried chicken and biscuits.