Daddy Long Stroke

by Cairo

  “Yeah, muhfucka,” Mike says, grinnin’. “We been ready.”

  “Then let’s roll, punk,” I say, laughin’.

  40

  “Yo, fuckin’ ’round wit’ you dumb-ass niggas, we ’bout to miss our flight,” I say, racin’ through the terminal to get to the gate. These niggas decided to go to some party hosted by some industry chick last night in Phoenix and got fucked up. I had to drive us back to the hotel, and we didn’t get up in that bitch ’til almost three in the mornin’. And now we’re tryna catch this plane ’fore we end up bein’ stuck out this bitch. And there’s no way I’m tryna be out here another damn day. Five days wit’ no pussy, and no trees, hell muthafuckin’ no. A muhfucka’s tryna get home. I don’t know why the fuck he made our reservations so early any-damn-way—6:50 in the muthafuckin’ mornin’! And I bet the shit’s packed!

  “Yo, shut ya bitchin’ ass up,” Mike says, tryna catch his breath. “We gonna make the damn flight.”

  “Whatever, nigga. Punk-ass muhfucka,” I say, laughin’. “That’s why ya outta-shape ass is all outta breath ’n shit.”

  “Fuck outta here,” he says, slowin’ down as we get to our gate. “I’m in the best shape of my life. It’s all them damn shots of Henny that got me all fucked up.” He wipes his forehead.

  I keep laughin’. “Whatever, yo. I knew I shoulda rolled out wit’ Gee ’n ’em instead of fuckin’ ’round wit’ ya ass.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “This is the final boarding call for all passengers for Continental flight fourteen-thirty-four nonstop to Newark Liberty International Airport,” the attendant announces. We barely make it, handin’ her our tickets. “Enjoy your flight,” she says, smilin’. Mike walks up in front of me while I’m fumblin’ wit’ my shit, tryna keep my iPod and Black Enterprise magazine from fallin’ outta my hand.

  As soon as I step on the plane, I shake my head. I can already tell the bitch is packed. Five muthafuckin’ hours packed on a damn plane. I’m glad I got an aisle seat, I think, not payin’ attention to any of the faces in first class. As I’m walkin’ by a seat on my left, I hear, “There goes that fine-ass nigga.”

  I look in their direction and grin. “Aye, yo, what’s good?” Chanel hits me wit’ another one of them phoney-ass grins. Her peoples sucks her teeth, turnin’ her head back toward the window. I laugh. “I’ma get at you.”

  I hear her say, “Not sittin’ back there in coach, muhfucka.”

  When I get to my seat, Gee says, “Damn, nigga, I didn’t think ya’ll was gonna make it.”

  “Man, listen,” I say, tryna stuff my carry-on in the overhead compartment. “I didn’t think so either. The muhfuckas at the car rental spot was tryna give us a hard time ’bout some scratch that was already on the shit.” An impatient attendant sees me strugglin’ to get my bag in and comes over to help. She shifts a few things ’round, then gets it in. She slams it shut, walkin’ off. Bitch! I take my seat and buckle up. Twenty minutes later, we’re up in the air. And Mike’s already over in the seat on the right of me wit’ his head pressed up against the window, snorin’. And Gee’s next to me soundin’ like a damn grizzly. I elbow him, then reach over and tap Glenn on his arm. “Yo, shake that nigga.”

  I know if I don’t wanna hear that shit the whole flight, no one else does. I put in my earplugs, turn on my iPod, then recline my seat back, closin’ my eyes. I don’t know when I fell off to sleep, but when I woke up, we were an hour from Newark. I look ’round the cabin. Gee and the rest of them niggas are still knocked out, growlin’. Glenn’s mouth is half-open and he is droolin’. I shake my head.

  The minute we land, muhfuckas are up scramblin’ tryna gather their shit up. Sounds of cell phones and BlackBerrys bein’ turned on can be heard, includin’ mine. “Yo, ya’ll muhfuckas sounded like a pack of hogs,” I say over to Glenn.

  “Man, listen, I was tired as hell. I can’t wait to get home and get up in my bed.”

  “Yo, dawg, I’m with you on that,” Mike says. I glance at my watch, standin’ up. It’s almost two-thirty in the afternoon.

  “Yo, muhfucka, you were over here snorin’, too,” Gee says, laughin’.

  “Fuck outta here. You know damn well that wasn’t me. Not the kid.”

  “Yeah, okay. If you say so.”

  As soon as the cabin door opens, e’eryone rushes toward the front of the cabin, tryna get the fuck to their next destination. We exit the plane and make our way toward baggage claim. I have my cell up to my ear, listenin’ to my four messages. “Call me. This is Vita.” Delete.

  “Hey, sexy. This is Cherry. Hope you had a safe flight back. Can’t wait to see you this week. Hit me up when you can.” Shit, I forgot I was goin’ out there in a few days. Hell, I might as well not even unpack. Thursday I’ll be right back on a plane again. We stop in front of the restrooms. Gee, Mike and Glenn’s asses gotta piss. They ask me to watch their bags. “Yo, I don’t know why you muhfuckas didn’t piss on the plane.” They ig me, walkin’ off.

  I listen to my third message. “Alley Cat, what’s good, nigga? It’s ya girl Electra. Holla back, baby.” And just as I’m deletin’ it, Chanel and her peoples come walkin’ outta the women’s bathroom. I grin. Chanel shakes her head, grabbin’ her girl by the arm, yankin’ her over toward me. She yanks her arm back.

  “Bitch, don’t be pullin’ on my arm like that.”

  “Whatever, ho. You need some dick in ya life and this muthafucka is fine as hell, so stop frontin’,” Chanel says loudly. They step up in my space. “Okay, it’s obvious you checkin’ for my girl, so what’s ya name?”

  “Alley Cat,” I say, starin’ at her peoples. Gotdaaamn, this bitch is fine! Her slanted hazel eyes can hypnotize a muhfucka. I’ve fucked some bad bitches in my day, but this one right here is in a class all by herself.

  “Alley Cat, this is Katrina, Kat for short.” She pushes her girl closer toward me. “Kat, Alley Cat. Now ya’ll make nice and exchange numbers. Geesh.”

  I smile, watchin’ her girl walk off. “So, you ready to drop them digits?”

  She huffs, pullin’ out her iPhone. “Nigga, give me ya damn number.” Gee and ’em come walkin’ outta the bathroom as she is programmin’ my number into her cell. She dials the number, lets it ring, then disconnects the call.

  I grin. “So when we goin’ out?”

  “When you ready to drop some paper on a bitch,” she says, switchin’ off toward her girl.

  “I got you, ma.”

  She looks over her shoulder, peeps us all startin’ at her ass. “And don’t be blowin’ my shit up either.”

  I laugh. “I’ma hit you up tonight.” She igs me, poppin’ her hips.

  Mike shakes his head, grabbin’ his bag. “I see you finally got her to drop them digits.”

  “Yeah, man.”

  “Yo, I’m tellin’ you, son. Leave that ho alone. She’s fine as fuck. But, man listen, that bitch look like she ain’t to be fucked wit’.”

  “Yeah, and that’s the shit that’s got my dick hard. I’ma see what’s good wit’ her ass real soon.” Gee finally brings his ass outta the bathroom. “’Bout damn time,” I say, handin’ him his backpack.

  “Yo, I had to take a shit.”

  I frown. “You sat ya ass down on them nasty toilet seats?”

  “Nah, muhfucka, I squatted over it.”

  “Whatever,” I say, walkin’ off. By the time we get to baggage claim, our bags are already on the carousel. I snatch mine up, then wait for the rest of ’em to get theirs. We give each other dap, and hugs, then go our separate ways.

  I can’t even front, a muhfucka’s exhausted. The minute I get in the crib, I drop my bags, put my phone on Quiet, then take off my clothes. I grab a sheet and blanket from outta the closet, then stretch the fuck out ’cross the sofa. I close my eyes. And before I know it, I’m knocked the fuck out.

  Thursday mornin’ I’m speedin’ back up the parkway to the airport to catch my eight-thirty flight out to L.A. The last two days I didn’t
really do too much of nuthin’. I went up the way to check out Pops, and had dinner wit’ Moms. Other than that, I basically chilled. Blazed and nutted, that’s ’bout it. My cell rings. I glance at the screen. It’s Cherry. Damn, she’s up mighty late, I think, peepin’ the time. It’s two-thirty in the mornin’ there.

  “What’s good, pretty baby?”

  “I was calling to make sure you were up, and on your way to the airport.”

  “Yeah, I’m on my way there now.”

  “Good. How’s the weather there?”

  “It’s brick as hell out here,” I say, veerin’ over to get onto the turnpike. “They talkin’ ’bout more snow out this bitch. I’m glad to be gettin’ the fuck up outta here.”

  “Well, it should be nice here today. I think in the upper seventies.”

  “That’s wassup.” I stop at the ticket booth, grab my ticket, then speed off. “Yo, I’m seriously thinkin’ ’bout stayin’ out there ’til this cold-ass weather breaks. I hate this shit.”

  “Mmmm, I’d love that. You know you can stay here for as long as you like. Hell, you don’t ever have to go back. Speaking of which, I was going to wait until you got here to ask, but since we’re talking now, I might as well ask you now.”

  “Wassup?”

  “I have to go back out to St. Lucia next week for my brother’s wedding, and since you’re already going to be out here, I was hoping you’d go with me. It’ll be like vacation within a vacation. You’ll get to see the beautiful island I was raised on and meet my family, too. It’ll be fun.”

  “Oh, you want me to meet ya peeps? You sure you want that?”

  “Of course I do, I wouldn’t be asking.”

  “You not tryna get ya peeps to approve me for marriage, are you?”

  “Oh, please. Not hardly. I want you as my date. That’s it. And besides, it’ll be nice to get fucked deep on the beach. We have a villa down on the beach. You could make love to me under the stars. Fuck me in my ass in the blue water.”

  “Aaah, shit,” I say, laughin’. “Let me find out, you tryna get all romantic on a nigga.”

  She sucks her teeth. “Will you go?”

  I smile, shakin’ my head. St. Lucia has always been one of them Caribbean spots I’ve wanted to check out. Only a muthafuckin’ fool would turn down a free trip. “How long you gonna be out there?” A week, she says. “Oh, aiight, no doubt,” I tell her, veerin’ onto the airport exit ramp. When I get down the ramp, I pay the toll, then follow the signs for the airport toward long-term parkin’. “Listen, I’m almost at the airport. I’ll see you in a few hours, aiight?”

  “See you when you get here. I’ll pick you up outside of baggage claim.”

  “Cool.” As soon as I disconnect the call, Vita calls. “Yo?”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  “I’m on my way to the airport. Wassup?”

  “I was hoping you could come down here for a few days.”

  “Oh, so what you sayin’, you still tryna fuck wit’ a nigga?”

  “I want to see you. I’m still hurt by what happened. But I know I don’t want to stop seeing you, either.”

  This broad! I swear she better be glad I feel sorry for her retarded ass. Otherwise, I’d drag her ass for e’erything she’s worth. “Well, check this out, ma. I’m on my way out to L.A. for a few weeks, so I’ma haveta hit you back when I get back to Jersey. I’ll let you know then if I’m still interested in givin’ you this dick.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Yo, you heard me. I fucked ya peoples in ya house. Gutted her all up on ya sheets; on the same bed I rocked ya box in, and you still wanna fuck wit’ a muhfucka. Baby, that’s some sad shit. You a cool chick, Vita, real talk, but you got some self-esteem issues you need to work on. Muhfuckas are gonna always use you and take you for granted ’til you get ya mind right, baby. Real talk. And the only reason I’m kickin’ this shit to you is ’cause I really don’t wanna see you get hurt. A muhfucka like me will run you ragged, baby, ’cause I know you lonely and weak. You deserve better, so I’m tryna give you the opportunity to bow out gracefully ’fore you end up more fucked up than you already are.”

  “OhmyGod, I can’t believe you.”

  “Believe it or not, I’m tellin’ you some real shit.”

  “You are so fucking arrogant and selfish!”

  “I know,” I tell her, pullin’ up to the parkin’ lot gate. I roll my window down and press the button for my ticket. “It is what it is. I enjoyed fuckin’ you, baby. But this dick comes wit’ an expiration date on it, and your time for gettin’ it is up.”

  “Fuck you,” she snaps. “One day you’re gonna fuck over the wrong bitch. And I hope I’m there to see you get everything you got coming.”

  I drive ’round the parkin’ area, tryna find a damn parkin’ space. It’s packed out this bitch. After drivin’ ’round for almost ten minutes, I find a spot. “Well,’til then, I’ma keep fuckin’, baby. So whatever happens happens.”

  “You’re such an asshole.”

  I laugh, grabbin’ my shit outta the car, then runnin’ over to catch the airport bus. “I know. And I fucked you all up in yours, didn’t I?” I hop on, tell the driver which airlines I’m flyin’ on, then take a seat in the back. “Do ya’self a favor, boo. Delete my number. And stay far away from any muhfucka who ain’t tryna treat you wit’ respect, ya heard?”

  She sighs. “I guess I should be thanking you. But I’m too mad at you right now.”

  “No thanks needed, baby. You’ll get over it. Would you have rather I lied to you and kept playin’ you out?”

  “No.”

  “Aiight then. Take what I’m tellin’ you as a gift. The next muhfucka might not be so generous.” I end the call. Far as I’m concerned, there’s no sense in goin’ back ’n forth. I done told her all she needs to know. What she does wit’ the shit is up to her. I got bigger and better things to do than to be tryna counsel some lost cause.

  The shuttle drops me off in front of Continental. I grab my shit, hop off and head through the glass doors. Forty minutes later I’m boardin’ my flight to L.A. I take my seat, and buckle up, then shut down my cell. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ L.A. might not be a bad spot to make my winter hangout. I could spend three months away from this cold-ass weather, then come back to Jersey in the spring, and chill ’til the winter comes through again. It’d definitely break up doin’ the same ole same ole. Not that I’ve been lookin’, but it’ll be nice to have a few West Coast beauties to fuck on those days I’m not beat to fuck wit’ Cherry’s ass.

  LAX Airport, as usual, is busy. I peep a few bitches wit’ potential, but don’t really put out any energy to speak. Right now my mind’s been on that sexy-ass ho Kat. I had her on the brain practically the whole flight out here, imaginin’ fuckin’ her all night. The shit had my dick hard as concrete. I’ma definitely get at her when I touch Jersey again.

  Soon as I get to the baggage claim area to get my bag, my cell rings. PRIVATE NUMBER flashes up on the screen. I shake my head. Muhfuckas crack me the fuck up me wit’ blockin’ their numbers. My thing is, if you callin’ me and you don’t want me to know ya number, then you must already be a muhfucka I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ any damn way. So I don’t give a fuck ’bout not havin’ ya digits. “Yo?”

  “You might have gotten off on them charges, but…”

  “Oh, so it’s you who’s been callin’ and not sayin’ shit on the phone?”

  “You don’t know that. Maybe it’s another fool you fucked over.”

  I sigh. “Ramona, why the fuck are you callin’ me?”

  “Because I’m not done with you.”

  “Well, I’m done wit’ you.”

  “You think you can fuck me, get me knocked up, then dismiss me like I ain’t shit, and I’m supposed to go away quietly? Wrong answer. I am about to become your worst fucking nightmare.”

  “Bitch, you’re fuckin’ crazy, for real, yo.”

  She laughs. “That’s already been e
stablished, nigga. And you fucked over the wrong bitch in the process.”

  I can’t believe this ho is fuckin’ threatenin’ me, like that’s ’posed to mean sumthin’ to me. This bitch needs to let the shit go, for real. I hear Moms’ voice; You’re playing a very dangerous game messing over these women the way you do…A scorned woman can become a very dangerous woman…It’s only a matter of time before you find yourself lying up in a hospital bed…

  “Check this out, you fuckin’ nutcase, nobody forced ya dumb ass to do anything you didn’t wanna do, so if you feel fucked over, you did it to ya’self. So save all ya theatrics for a muhfucka who gives a fuck. ’Cause, bitch, I don’t.”

  “I swear to fucking God, you won’t know when or where, but I promise you—for every woman you’ve ever fucked over, I’m going to make you pay, if it’s the last motherfucking thing I do.”

  “Yo, that shit you talkin’ don’t rattle me. Do what you gotta do and stop fuckin’ callin’ me.”

  “I hate you!”

  I laugh. “That’s already been established. But you hate ya’self even more. You hate the fact that you miss a muhfucka like me; that you can’t let the fuck go, and move on wit’ ya miserable-ass life. Yeah, baby, you hate me, aiight…”

  “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I hate you ’cause your no-good, black ass ain’t shit! I hate you ’cause you’re a motherfucking user.”

  “Yeah, whatever you say. Admit it, boo. You hate it even more that a no-good, black ass muhfucka like me shut off ya cock supply; that I dismissed ya ass wit’out blinkin’ an eye. Well, guess what? Get the fuck over it. Chalk it up as a lesson learned and move the fuck on.”

  “Until you’ve paid for what you’ve done to me, I’m not moving on.”

  I sigh. “Yo, do you hear how retarded you sound, right now? What you need to do is look in the muthafuckin’ mirror, and deal wit’ the real problem, baby—you, instead of tryna blame me for ya shit.” She starts yappin’ off at the mouth ’bout what she’s never gonna go through again, ’bout how she’s never gonna trust another nigga again, blah, blah, blah. The bitch is doin’ all this talkin’, but ain’t sayin’ a muthafuckin’ thing that makes sense. I end the call wit’ her still flappin’ her jaws, shakin’ my head. This shit is really gettin’ outta hand. I decide to get my number changed the minute I get back to Jersey. I need to shut down all access these nut-ass bitches have to me.