by Chunichi
Chapter 7
Pockets Getting Fatter Breeze
“Make it clap!” Trixy insisted, shaking her ass in front of me while I was trying to watch an episode of Martin on DVD. That dude was hilarious.
I had to admit, though, her ass was becoming more and more phat courtesy of the multitude of backshots from me. She was making me want to give her another demonstration. After no reaction from me, a disappointed Trixy went into the kitchen to wash the dishes. This girl was very particular how she wanted her house to be. If I let a crumb hit the carpet, it would soon become a heated war with the living room being the battlefield.
As Trixy finished drying the last fork, I came up behind her. I quickly dropped her shorts to the floor. Then I ripped her G-string off of her. I spun her around, lifted her body, and placed her on the counter in one motion. She didn’t hesitate to open her legs. I threw my face between her thighs and sucked Trixy’s clit while massaging her nipples.
“Damn it, Breeze, I love it when you take this pussy,” she whispered while clenching the ends of the refrigerator. Within minutes, she came. Her pussy was so wet that it soaked her inner thighs. My dick was hard and ready to enter. Trixy knew what position I preferred, so without hesitation she turned around to face the refrigerator. I eased my way into her pussy.
“Harder, fuck me, harder,” she chanted over and over again. I granted her request. We both came at the same time. Lucky for us we finished right on time, because minutes after we finished, her son came running through the front door.
“Hey, Ma. Hey, Breeze,” Junior said while running straight toward the refrigerator.
“What you need out of here?” I playfully jumped in front of the fridge.
“I want some Kool-Aid!” he shouted.
“First tell me something you learned in school today,” I demanded.
“Man,” he whined. I didn’t know what the problem was, but for some reason this little nigga hated school.
“No Kool-Aid until you tell me.”
“Mommy?” he begged Trixy for help.
“What did you learn, Junior?” she asked.
“I can’t remember.”
“Oh, well, too bad. No Kool-Aid for you.” I treated Junior like he was my own son.
“Okay, okay. I wrote numbers today.”
“All right.” I walked over to Trixy’s desk and grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil. “Write your numbers, and when you’re done your mom will give you some Kool-Aid.” I placed the paper and pencil on the kitchen table. Junior sat down and went straight to work. From the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of Trixy smiling.
Now that I had released a little pent-up frustration and dealt with Junior, it was time to go take care of business. I called up Borne and headed out to go check on him. Instead of meeting him at our usual spot, I met him on the block. It was the first of the month and shit was really rolling, so he wasn’t trying to leave and miss out on all that money. I pulled up to the corner store where Borne was standing, and got out of the car. The block was busy as hell. As soon as I saw it, I understood why that nigga ain’t wanna leave.
“What up, Borne?” I dapped him up. “I see it’s busy as a motherfucker out here.”
“It’s a’ight,” Borne said, downplaying the whole scene.
“A’ight? Niggas lined up like you giving out free government cheese,” I said observing what was really going on.
“Yeah, it’s popping, but it’s hot as a motherfucker out here. Cops been circling every hour. And we got beef with niggas trying to move in on our territory. But fuck all that. Let me get you your paper so you can be on your way,” Borne said before pulling out his cell phone and calling his girl up to bring him the money.
I hadn’t been waiting two whole minutes before I was on the ground with my goddamn face in the dirt. One minute, I was leaning against the wall, had just popped open a cold Heineken, and was about to take a sip. Next thing I knew, I heard a car screeching and people start screaming. Before I could throw myself to the floor, I heard two shots, then bullets ricochet off the wall right next to me.
What the fuck! was all that ran through my mind. Shit was happening so fast. I was pissed that I ain’t have shit on me, so I couldn’t do shit but lie down until it was over. From my angle, I saw Borne pull out a .45 Desert Eagle and start shooting back in the opposite direction. That’s when shit really got crazy. Bullets started coming from everywhere. Although it only lasted about two minutes, that shit seemed like an hour. That shit had me feeling like I was in Desert Storm.
“Fuck, they got little homie,” I heard a dude yell once the firing stopped. His statement was followed by a woman’s cry, a girl’s frantic scream, and niggas’ shouts of retaliation. When I got a little closer, I could see dude had caught one in the neck and was bleeding uncontrollably. Needless to say, that nigga died before the ambulance arrived.
Damn, this is crazy. I gotta get the fuck outta here, I thought as I watched and took in all that was going on around me.
“Yo, let’s blow this joint,” Borne said. It was exactly what I wanted to hear. We hopped in my car and went to his girl’s crib. I grabbed my loot and was out.
“What a hell of a night,” I said to no one in particular as I drove off.
The next morning, I went to see my parole officer. The more I showed up for appointments and my piss test was in good standing, the more he began to loosen up. Plus, my P.O. mentioned that O.G. had put in a good word for me. As I was on my way to pick up my check, I started thinking about how different my life would be a year from now. I knew I was about to be on the come up and nobody was going to stop me.
“Morning,” I greeted the O.G. as I walked in.
“Good morning to you too,” he responded before looking me up and down. “So, son, how you doing?” he inquired.
“A’ight.” I nodded.
“Here’s your check,” he stated, handing it to me.
“Thanks, and I appreciate you putting in a good word for me with my P.O.”
“No problem. Boy, you’re at a crossroads. Now, don’t make me tell that parole officer of yours that you’re fucking up.”
“I ain’t been late or not showed up for work one time, O.G. man, what are you talking about?” I questioned, getting a little pissed off. O.G. was always in my ass for something and I was getting tired of it.
“What? You think I haven’t noticed the new clothes on your back and the jewelry on your wrist and neck? You can’t buy none of that shit on what you make, son.”
“Okay, I picked up a few things. So what!” I barked.
“Listen, I couldn’t care less if your ass is mad at me. You hustling again! Don’t try to insult my intelligence or cut me off. I got the motherfucking floor right now! You need to take the right path. Otherwise, you will end up back in jail or in a coffin. I’ve been down that path, so I’m just trying to warn you. You have been given a second chance and you have the potential to do something great. Don’t fuck it up. Get the fuck off the corner, son!”
I didn’t want to disrespect the O.G., but I had to wonder what the fuck I could possibly do so great by pushing a fucking mop. “I’ll see you at six,” I replied and walked off, heading to the car. The O.G. was tripping, and since a nigga couldn’t smoke, I needed to get a drink.
After I stopped at Marvin’s, a local bar where no one dares to bother you, I decided to give Tanisha a call. I knew hearing her voice would get me out of the slump I was feeling.
“Hey, you,” she said as soon as she picked up.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, nothing much. Just sitting here at work. I forgot I have to close tonight because I gave two of my customer representatives the afternoon off,” she explained.
“Aren’t you a nice manager,” I added.
“I know,” she laughed.
“Well, I was trying to see if you could meet me for dinner tonight. You pick the place,” I offered.
“What about the Cheesecake Factory around
eight o’clock?”
“Yeah, that’s good for me. I’ll see you then. Enjoy the rest of your day,” I replied.
“You as well,” she responded before hanging up the phone.
As soon as I hung up with Tanisha, I called Maria.
“What is it, Breeze?” she answered after I called ten times back to back.
“You know exactly what it is, Maria. I want to see my kids,”
“I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talking to. Don’t mistake me for one of your little ghetto chicks.”
“I’m not even trying to argue with you. I just want to see my kids.” I pleaded.
“Breeze, I can’t stand the thought of you let alone the sight of you. The only reason I am willing to allow you to see the children is because they keep asking about you. I can’t understand why or how they even like you in the first place. You’re lucky my facial was rescheduled so I have a little bit of free time today. I’m picking the kids up from school at three. We can meet you at Jillian’s at three thirty.” Maria dictated what time and where I could see the children.
Not wanting to put up a fight, I readily agreed and hung up the phone. At least something positive was going to come out of this afternoon. Maria had agreed to let me see the kids again.
I quickly got myself together and headed downtown toward Waterside. I spotted Maria and the kids as soon as I walked through the door. A few days ago, she saw me in the MacArthur mall and she acted as if she didn’t even know me. As I walked up to her at Jillian’s, I could tell she was checking me out.
“You’re on time. That’s a good thing,” she commended me.
Once again, the kids were reluctant to give me hugs and kisses. I didn’t get mad, because I knew it would take time for them to get accustomed to me being in their lives permanently. They were so young when I went away.
“Of course I’m on time. I know it’s still a pet peeve of yours. I bought you a little something,” I explained, handing her a dozen roses.
“Thank you,” she replied, trying hard not to crack a smile.
“There are eight deep pink roses to say thank you for allowing me back into our kids’ lives, three yellow roses because I care about you, and a single red rose because a part of me will always love you, Maria,” I responded. I could tell Maria was touched by my gesture. She even let me have an extra hour with the kids.
Chapter 8
Gotta Get Mine Trixy
It was time I eased up on Breeze. I could tell he was starting to get tired of my bitching and moaning about dirty dishes and leaving the toilet seat up. The truth was, I really enjoyed having him live with me. I’d never told anyone, but I was devastated when I heard he got locked up. Ever since I let him take my virginity, I’d always felt a special connection with him. I fucked with a few dudes through the years but I never did stop thinking about Breeze. When I heard he was being released, I counted the days for him to get out and come back home. Even though I knew he had his wife and kids, I had made a vow to myself that I’d make him mine eventually. When I saw him the day he got out, I had to hide my excitement when I realized Maria had left his ass. She had made it real easy for me to get him right where I wanted him; in my bed each night.
Now, lately I noticed he had been talking and seeing his kids a little more often than before. The last thing I needed was for her to be slightly nice to Breeze and fuck up his head. Breeze was my man now and I planned on keeping it that way. He was the man in my life as well as the man in my son’s life. For the first time, Junior had a man to look up to, and Breeze was so good with him. It put a smile on my face each time Breeze played football or basketball with him, or when they played video games together. It made me even happier when Breeze did homework with Junior. We were Breeze’s family now, and I would do anything to keep it that way.
I knew Breeze was trying to go the straight-and-narrow way when he first got home, but I knew the memories of his previous kingpin status would be dancing in his head at night. Breezy Breeze from the streets was back and it was time niggas started to watch out. The king was about to rebuild his empire, and I was certain that I was gonna be the queen sitting on the throne next to him. For the past week, I’d been waiting for him to say anything, and I mean anything, about helping him out. Once he started rising to the top, I wanted to make sure I was the only ride or die chick by his side. A street nigga loved a down-ass bitch, and I was gonna show Breeze I was just that chick. I wasn’t just doing it for myself; more importantly, I was doing it for my son. We both needed to make sure Breeze was a permanent part of our lives, but my son needed him more than anything.
“Morning. You up early,” Breeze greeted me, yawning.
“So are you,” I confirmed, looking at the clock in the kitchen.
“Yeah, I have a few things to take care of.” He nodded.
“You hungry?”
“Yeah, I could go for a little bacon, scrambled eggs with cheese—”
“And toast with butter on the side,” I stated, cutting him off.
“That’s my girl,” he confirmed before giving me a kiss on my neck.
“Listen, I need you to do me a small favor. I made a promise to take Junior to the mall to get the new Jordans this morning so I need you to handle something for me. I want you to take this bag to Mannie, and he gonna give you back a small duffle bag. You think you can handle that?”
“Yes,” I assured him.
“Good. The bag is in the closet on the left-hand side,” he explained after turning on the television in the living room.
Breeze was talking to me like I didn’t know what was going on. I knew I was taking Mannie money and he was giving me drugs in return, but it was cool. I had this. This was nothing to me. The only fear I may have had was wondering if a nigga would rob me. But once Breeze said the name Mannie I knew I was good. Mannie was my nigga. We went way back. It started off as a fuck thing but I eventually became his ride or die chick. Eventually things between us ended, but I’d been his little homie every since.
An hour later, I pulled up at a Virginia Beach public library. It was an easy exchange. I could tell Mannie’s eyes were more concentrated on my ass than on the money I was bringing him.
“Damn, that ass getting phat,” he said as I walked up to his car.
“Whatever, Mannie, I’m working. No time for play,” I said jokingly.
“Oh, so you working for Breeze now. You giving him that pussy like you used to give me?” Mannie asked while staring at my camel toe.
“That ain’t your business,” I snapped.
“It’s all good. At least you keeping it in the family,” Mannie said as I got out of the car.
I shook my head when I returned to my car. It was sad how a nigga always had sex on his mind. Mannie didn’t even count the money. He was too busy making passes at me. I could have robbed his ass if I were a real grimey-type chick. That’s one thing I liked about Breeze, he didn’t think with his dick. That nigga was about his paper.
When I got back to my place, Breeze was so impressed with the completed task at hand, that he offered for me to be his road dawg. I had passed the test! Of course, I agreed with no delay. After all, that was my plan from day one. Later on that night I celebrated with wild sex. I popped an ecstasy pill and fucked the shit out of Breeze. The X have me going hard that night. It had me going so hard that I was sucking Breeze’s dick, giving him the blow job of his life. I was really feeling my head game. Superhead ain’t had shit on my moves! I slurped, licked, and sucked my way down to his balls, where I rotated them in and out of my mouth while I stroked his shaft. From the way he was moaning, I could tell Breeze was feeling it, so I decided to get real freaky with it. I stuck my tongue in his ass! That ended up being the biggest mistake of my life. Breeze jumped up and yelled, “Get the fuck off me.” Then he pushed me so hard I flew off the bed and into the wall. That shit freaked me out. That nigga reacted like a Vietnam veteran with post-traumatic stress disorder. I didn’t know what the fuck that wa
s about, but I made a mental note never to go that route again.
Chapter 9
Stand by My Man Tanisha
I looked out the window to see Breeze standing outside, blowing on a car’s horn. I grabbed my bag and raced out the front door. We were running late for church.
“Oh, you got a new rental?” I asked, noticing that Breeze was driving a different car from the Toyota Camry rental I had seen him driving lately.
“Nah. This is me. You like it?”
“You bought a new car, Breeze?” I asked, surprised.
“Yeah. It’s just a little something. I figured for the money that I was spending on rentals I could just buy my own little ride. You feel me?” Breeze tried justifying purchasing a new car.
“Yeah, I guess,” I responded.
As we were riding down Virginia Beach Boulevard in Breeze’s new Chrysler 300 with a navigation system, I began to wonder how he was able to purchase such a car. I knew he didn’t make that much as a janitor. My worst fear was that he was back to selling drugs. I began to worry that, this time, he may not end up in a prison cell. Instead, his fate could be a coffin. My thoughts began to race. Should I ask him? I don’t want him to get mad at me. Do I really want to get involved with someone who sells drugs? My daddy would be livid with me, and my mother would do more than just yell at me; she’d probably lay hands on me. I figured for the time being I wouldn’t jump to any conclusions. I decided to just observe Breeze for any signs of him being back into the drug game. Minutes later we’d arrived at church.
“Saints, there’s one more thing left to do,” Pastor Gregory announced.
“It’s offering time,” a woman shouted out as she stood up. “Praise the Lord!”
“Yes, Sister Richards, you are correct, it is indeed offering time,” he assured her.
“Amen,” a man shouted in front of us while waving his check in the air.
“God loves a cheerful giver. If you’re not giving from the heart, don’t bother putting a penny in the basket. You will not get blessed that way,” the pastor preached.