by Cairo
My forehead creases as they walk off.
“Wow, that felt awkward,” Marika says, arching a brow. “What was that all about?”
“C’mon, let’s go to our seats,” I say, taking her hand in mine. “It doesn’t even matter.”
She squeezes my hand as we stroll down the red-carpeted aisle. I lean in her ear and tell her how beautiful she looks, and how much I love her.
She smiles, then whispers out the corner of her mouth. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”
I groan low, letting my hand slide over her ass as we take our seats in the front row. I get settled in my seat, draping an arm along the back of Marika’s chair. When I glance over my shoulder, I catch J-Smooth seated in the third row over in the next section, staring at me behind his shades. He gives me a head nod.
Carlos’ voice replays in my head. “I had to check this muhfucka for coming out of pocket. The muhfucka was talking real slick…”
“Niggah mad ’cause his shit got dropped…”
THIRTY-TWO
Marika
“Girrrrrl, so how was it?”
I dab the corners of my mouth with my linen napkin. “How was what?”
Jasmine scoffs. “Monaco, girl?” We’re in Midtown finishing up an early dinner at Megu, a Japanese restuarant in the city. Unfortunately, I enjoy coming here more so for the décor and ambiance than its menu. The overly priced food is okay. But since Jasmine enjoys chic, trendy restaurants, here we sit.
Jasmine called me earlier stating she’d be in the city and wanted to meet for early drinks and a bite to eat. Besides, we haven’t talked in a few weeks so catching up in person instead of over the phone is always nice.
I run a hand through my hair, swiping curls from my face. “We’ve been back over a week, and I’m already ready to go back. It was fabulous.”
“I’m so jealous.”
I wave her on. “Girl, please. You and…” My voice trails off. I squint. Take in the beautiful woman who has walked into the restaurant wearing a pair of skin-tight jeans and an off-the-shoulder blouse. I blink. “Oh, for the love of God!” I hiss looking over at the table she’s being seated at in disbelief. I blink again as she has the goddamn audacity to sit directly facing in my direction. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”
“What?” Jasmine asks, glancing over her shoulder in the direction of my glare.
I shake my head. “Girl, nothing. Anyway…like I was saying, if you really wanted to go out to Monte Carlo, with all of Steve’s connections, he would have made it happen. And you know MarSell could have gotten you seats.”
I take a deep breath. Will my eyes on Jasmine, instead of across the room, where I can feel this bitch’s eyes on me.
Why the hell is this bitch here…? She has to be stalking me.
“I’m ready to get out of here.”
Jasmine gives me a confused look. “Why? Wait. You know her or something?”
Yeah. Real well. Marcel and I fucked her. “Not really.”
Jasmine tilts her head. “Well, whoever she is. She must have really gotten under your skin. You should see your face.”
I glance up at one of the giant lamp pillars, willing myself in my seat. But when the bitch winks and gives me a four-finger wave, smirking, I snatch my napkin from off my lap, tossing it up on the table, and quickly standing up. “I’ll be right back,” I say to Jasmine.
She eyes me as I stalk my way over to her table. “Hello, Marika,” she says, smiling. “Surprise seeing you here. You look wonderful.”
I cut through the niceties, getting right to the point. “What are you doing here? Following me?”
She laughs. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself.” She glances around the restaurant, lowering her voice. “Yes, you were definitely good in bed. Not as good as my papi, though. But you’re definitely in my top five Clit Lickers category. And you know how to work a strap-on like no other.”
I cringe.
“Still, last I checked, this was a public place, so why would I be following you?”
She tilts her head.
I place a hand up on my hip. “Well, that’s what I’d like to know.”
“If I were going to stalk anyone, sweetie. I’d be stalking that fine-ass husband of yours. After all, he’s the one with the real dick. And big at that.”
“You have some serious issues, hon.”
She glares at me. “I’m not your hon. So do us both a favor and run along or you’ll be the one with the issues.”
I shoot her an incredulous look, trying to keep my tone even. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
She flashes a smug smile, then tosses me a dismissive wave. “Look. I’m here to have a delicious meal and enjoy the ambiance. We’re not friends, remember? Nor will we ever be. You made that perfectly clear. So go back over to your table. Leave me to my own dining experience. And stop letting your imagination get the best of you.”
I stare at her, hard. Then arch a brow. “Good day. Enjoy your meal.”
“You do the same,” she says acidly. Then she says, as I’m turning on my heel to walk away, “Tell my papi I said I miss him. Me and mi coño.”
The bitch starts laughing and it takes everything in me not to snatch her glass of water from off the table and toss it in her face. She smirks. “Relax, mami. I’m only teasing. He’ll be all mine in time.”
My face flushes with anger. “In your fucking dreams,” I hiss.
“And, oh, what sweet dreams they are.”
My nostrils flare, indignation flashing in my glare. I walk off, annoyed; yet relieved she hadn’t raised her voice at any point.
“What was that all about?” Jasmine asks, eyeing me the minute I return to our table. “Who is that?”
I huff, taking my seat and signaling for the waiter to bring the check. I clench my teeth. “Some psychopath bitch.”
She blinks. Shakes her head. “Wait a minute. Name-calling. Dropping the B-bomb at another woman. Oh, it must be serious. What’s the deal?”
I pull out my compact. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” I glide a fresh coat of lipstick over my lips, then snap my compact shut, tossing it back in my purse.
The bitch is eyeing me.
I glower over in her direction. Then roll my eyes.
“Where the fuck is our check,” I mutter.
“Ooh, now the f-bomb. Oh, she’s really bad news, then. Do I need to take off my jewels and tie my hair up in a knot?” She starts sliding off her diamonds, slipping them into her purse.
I can’t help but laugh. “Girl, no. She’s annoyingly harmless.”
Jasmine glances back at her. “Well, who is she?”
I sigh. Then hold a finger up at her. “Not a word. But I think she’s stalking me.”
“What? Why?” I pull out my wallet. Jasmine stops me. “Oh, no. My treat. Now tell me who this heifer in back of me is before I go over there and introduce her to a hometown ass whooping.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” I lean in and whisper, “She wants MarSell.”
“Whaat? Get out of here. And how do you know this?”
“Oh, she told me. The bitch was bold enough to call me at my office and ask me for permission to fuck him.”
I decide not to mention about our romp in the sheets with her.
“Ohmygod, that scandalous skank!” Jasmine exclaimed. “And you didn’t drag her by the front of her hairline? Oh, hell no.”
“Shh!” I sweep my eyes around the restaurant to make sure no one has overheard Jasmine’s outburst. “I don’t need you broadcasting it to the world.”
“Girl, please. I wish a bitch would. These hoes today are downright treacherous.”
I shake my head. “Tell me about it. The bitch needs to go find her own man.”
“Well,” Jasmine says, reaching for the leather check binder when it’s brought to our table, “at least there’s a bright side to all this.”
I cock my head. Arch a brow. “Oh really? And what’s that?”
“At least she asked if she could fuck him, instead of going behind your back.”
I buck my eyes. “Are you kidding me? Where they teaching that at?”
She shrugs. “Hey, I’m saying. You know how these trifling hoes are. They’ll smile in your face while trying to screw your man. At least, she wanted permission.” She pauses, glancing at the bill, then sliding her Black Card in the sleeve, closing it.
“Well, trust me. She didn’t get it. And…” I stop talking when the waiter returns to take the check. “I’m not about to hand over my man to her or any other woman.”
She wants to know what makes me think she’s following me. I tell her about her showing up in Atlantic City at the conference.
“And now she’s here.”
Jasmine reaches over and grabs my hand. “It could be another coincidence.”
I shift in my seat. Give her a “yeah-right” look. I glance back over at her, then bring my gaze back to Jasmine. “I don’t know what that bitch is selling, but, trust me, I’m not buying it.”
THIRTY-THREE
Marcel
“What’s good, my freak-nasty peeps…if you’re just tuning in to the Tri-state area’s hottest radio station, 93.3 The Heat, sit back…relax…light a candle…pour yourself a glass of your favorite wine… pull out your favorite lube…your favorite toy…or hit up that special someone…and prepare to be stimulated beyond your own imagination as we get into this week’s segment of Creepin’ ‘n’ Freakin’ After Dark. Tonight we’re gonna switch it up a bit ‘n’ do a lil’ Speak Ya Peace segment. That’s right, peeps. Call in ‘n’ express ya’self. I wanna know what’s on ya mind. So let’s turn up the heat ‘n’ get it in. 212-FreakMe…”
As soon as the phone lines light up, I hop right into it, picking up on line two. “Yo, what’s good…you’re on the air. What’s on ya mind?”
“Hi, boo. This is Stacy from Parsippany. I love your show. I listen to it faithfully every week.”
“Oh, cool-cool. Thanks for the love, ma-ma. So what’s on your mind, beautiful?”
She sighs. “Well, I met this guy on a Christian dating website about a month ago. And everything was going real good with us. I was even thinking about giving him a little taste of goodness after Bible study last night, but do you want to know what this heathenish fool had the audacity to say to me?”
I lean up in my seat. “Nah, ma-ma. Tell us.”
“This nasty baboon asked me if he could come over and get him a little taste.”
“Oh okay, okay. But you wanted to give him a lil’ sampler of the goodies anyway, so what’s the problem?”
She huffs. “The problem is, the devil is a boldface lie. I thought I had me a good Christian man with a healthy sexual appetite, but instead I got me some ole nasty freak.”
I roll my eyes up in my head, glancing at the time. I don’t know why the fuck these hoes call in without getting to the muthafuckin’ point.
“Damn, baby. Give me something good. What kinda nasty was he askin’ for, ma-ma?”
“Oh, that nasty heathen wanted me to squat over him and pass gas in his mouth, then go to the bathroom on him.”
I frown. Oh that muhfucka mad nasty. He’s one of them shit-stained teeth ‘n’ tongue muhfuckas.
“Then he wanted me to let him clean me up back there with his…tongue. What kinda nasty devilishness is that? The devil is a lie if he thinks I’ma do some nastiness like that.”
I blink. “Wait. Hold up, ma-ma. Are you saying ole boy wanted you to squat over him ‘n’ pull open them big, fluffy booty cheeks and take a dump in his mouth, then let him lick out ya shitty hole?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. Ole nasty shit eater. I’m so appalled. Why couldn’t he tell me he was into this level of devil work before I let him stick his serpent tongue in my mouth?”
“Damn, ma-ma. Sounds like you’re gonna need a deep cleansing, no pun intended.”
She groans. “I’m going to pray on it. And just call out on the Lord to send me a man with a good sexual appetite who isn’t into filthy sex.”
I bite the inside of my lip to keep from laughing. “Yo, beautiful. There’s nothin’ wrong with a lil’ ass-lickin’. It’s a real treat. As long as it doesn’t taste like shit. Next caller. You’re on the air.”
“Yo, what’s poppin’, fam? This ya boy Mike, yo.”
“Oh, aiight. What’s good, Mike…where you calling from, playboy?”
“Nyack, son.”
“Oh aiight. That’s what’s up. What’s on ya mind, bruh?”
He sighs. “Man, what’s good with these light-skin bitches these days, yo?”
I furrow my brows. “I don’t know, man, you tell me.”
“On some real niggah shit, yo, them hoes becomin’ basic as fuc—bleep these days. And they all starting to look the same, actin’ like every muhfucka out here can’t live without ’em. Bitch, boo! Go have ya pancake-batter-face ass a seat somewhere. All I’m tryna do is fuc—bleep. That’s it.”
I chuckle to myself. “Damn, bruh, you sound angry.”
“Nah, yo. I’m just tired of the games ‘n’ the stink-ass attitudes them hoes be bringin’. And most of ’em’s mouth game is whack as hell, anyway. If you gonna act all stuck up, at least know how’ta suck a goddamn dic—bleep!”
The line goes dead.
I shake my head. “Well all right then. That sounded like one wounded bruh. Next caller, you’re on the air.”
“Hey, boo. This is Ronzella from Union City.”
“What’s good, Ronzella. What’s on ya mind, ma-ma?”
She sighs heavily into the phone. “I’m so sick of dumb chicks. These thots be thinking ’cause a dude rocks a few Polo shirts and a Gucci belt that he’s ballin’. But ask him how much money he has in the bank, or what he’s driving, or where he lives and I bet he doesn’t even know what the inside of a bank looks like. He’s riding shotgun in his boy’s whip, or he’s on foot. And his mattress is on the floor of his momma’s house. It’s pathetic.”
“I hear you, ma-ma. Sounds like you got your ish together.”
“You got that right. And I can’t wait for my man to get home from his bid. So we can ball out.”
I blink. “Yo, what’s he down for?” When chick says something light, as in armed robberies, I almost fall out of my chair. “Yo, you call armed robbery something light.”
“Well, yeah,” she says nastily. “It’s not like he raped or killed someone.”
“Oh, aiight. Sounds like you definitely snatched ya’self a real baller, baby,” I say sarcastically, but it goes over her head.
“You damn right, boo. And as soon as he gets out in twenty-twenty-five, I’ma show these silly bitches what a real baller looks like.”
I smirk. “Oh, I’m sure the world can’t wait. Thanks for calling in, baby.”
George Tandy Jr.’s “March” eases over the airwaves as Nina comes over and tells me Marika’s on the station’s private line and that it’s important. I frown, picking up my cell and removing my headset, wondering why she’d be calling the station instead of hitting me up on my cell.
“Hey, baby, you good?” I say, picking up.
“I am now, papi,” the caller says. I cringe the minute I hear her voice. “Ooh, you sound so delicious. It’s so good to hear your sexy voice, papi. I’ve been missing you so much. You have no idea how badly my body aches for you. I need some more of that buen pene.”
My nose flares, but I try to keep shit in check. “What the fuck do you want, yo?”
“Don’t be mean. I’ve missed you. I’ve tried to stay away, but I can’t. I want you, papi. And I want some more of that good dick.”
I huff. “Yo, you can’t be hitting me up at the station like this, pretending to be my wife ‘n’ shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have to keep calling you if you’d just respond to my emails, and stopped avoiding me. I can’t believe you actually blocked me from your Twitter and I
nstagram.”
This crazy-ass chick’s back flooding my email with naked flicks and videos of her playing in her pussy, and sending me direct messages on Twitter for the last week. Just when I thought shit was over, here she comes popping back up.
“That was mean and childish,” she says softly. “Make love to me, MarSell, baby.”
I scowl. “Yo, real shit. What’s really good with you, huh?”
“I told you. I miss you. I wanna see you.”
“Not gonna happen. I thought I made that clear.”
I glance over my shoulder at the booth, then lower my voice. “Did you get dropped on your head or something? I’m tryna keep this light, but you can’t seem to follow the fuckin’ script, so let me help you out. If a muhfucka doesn’t hit you back after the tenth email and he blocks ya ass from all social media, then, uh, what the fuck you think that shit means?”
She huffs. “Now, baby. Don’t be like that. All that means to me is you’re playing hard to get.”
Is this broad fuckin’ serious right now?
I take a deep breath. “No. What it means is, a muhfucka’s not interested in ya ass. So why are you still hitting me up?”
“Because I love you, papi. And I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“You love me?” I laugh. “Yo, you funny as hell. You don’t love me. You’re confused; that’s what you are.”
“I’m not confused, hijo de puta! I know what the hell love is. And I know what I feel for you. So don’t tell me what I don’t feel for you. I love you, papi.”
I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at it in disbelief for a few seconds before placing it back up to my ear. “Listen, yo. That shit you feel isn’t love. It’s lust. And it’s clear it was a big-ass mistake on my part to ever link up with you.”
“Don’t say that. It wasn’t a mistake. It was fate, papi. Don’t you see that? I was supposed to win those VIP tickets.” I thought this broad told me her girl won them. I shake my head. “I was supposed to be sitting up at that bar. And I was supposed to be in bed with you…and her.”
I sigh, frustrated. “Look. That shit we shared was a night of good fuckin’. Not love. But you’re obviously confusing the two. How much paper is it gonna take for you to leave me and my wife the fuck alone, huh?”