by K'wan
She tried to get a reaction out of Lazy, but at best he just raised his eyebrow. “Michelle, I told you before and I’ll tell you again, if you feel like that, do what you do. I got love for you, boo, but I ain’t never been the nigga to cuff a shorty.”
“I know, cause all I’m good for is fucking and hitting you wit paper,” she said scornfully.
“First of all, I was a young, fly nigga when you met me, so miss me wit the bullshit. Second of all, you know I got love for you, but I ain’t gonna keep bumping my head against the wall trying to prove it. Accept my love or don’t.” He shrugged his shoulders and walked into the bathroom.
MICHELLE WAS SO MAD THAT she had to stuff her face into a pillow to muffle the roar she let out. She was horny as hell, and Lazy had the nerve to leave her hanging. If it had been the first time, she might’ve considered letting the slight go, but he was starting to do it more often. Back when they first met he used to love to fuck her. She could suck him off for a half-hour straight and he would still climb in her pussy and tear the walls down. Now it was becoming a task to get more than a fifteen- to twenty-minute romp out of him. She should’ve listened to her friends when they told her not to fuck that young boy.
She had met Lazy three months ago when he came through the emergency room of Harlem Hospital, where she worked as a triage nurse. His boy had took a shot in the thigh and was bleeding all over himself. Because he didn’t have insurance, the staff didn’t move as fast as they could’ve to treat him. Sympathizing with their situation, Michelle shuffled the paperwork and got Lazy’s man taken care of. To show his appreciation, Lazy brought her a plate from Manna’s when she took her dinner break. From the conversation, she knew he was trying to get at her, but it wasn’t until they got a little deeper into it that she saw promise in the young boy.
Lazy was a young cat with a hustler’s spirit. He had a wisdom about him that you didn’t see much in men his age. Of course he was a street nigga, but he was still in school. Lazy got so-so grades, but his skill on the basketball court balanced the scales a bit. He was a six-six guard, and was cooking cats on the high school circuit. It would’ve been a stretch to say that he was one of the more high-profile recruits, but scouts were definitely paying attention.
Michelle immediately saw the potential in giving him a little taste of her goodies. She made her own money and wasn’t pressed for cash, but it was obvious to a duck that Lazy was destined for great things. He was a knucklehead that just needed a little direction. In him she saw a young cat that could be molded to be the heroin lover that she had always dreamt about—but she often wondered if his bullshit was a fair trade on the reward.
LAZY CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND him and made sure to lock it. It wasn’t unlike Michelle to come barging into the bathroom to catch him in there for some dick. Home girl was a freak to the third power. He had fucked older women before, but Michelle gave him a crash course in real sex. She did everything from fucking him in public to licking his ass. Michelle’s shot was without a doubt the best he had ever had, and he’d tell anyone that, but she was moving too fast for him. Being eight years older than him, Michelle was a bit more seasoned and focused. While Lazy was thinking about fucking girls and running the streets, her mind was on building a foundation … which, as there was nothing wrong with that, he just wasn’t interested in doing with her. For as good as Michelle’s pussy was, Lazy’s heart was elsewhere.
After cutting on the shower to drown out his voice if Michelle was ear-hustling, he called Dena. He knew she had her heart set on seeing Dreamgirls, but he had been so caught up with Michelle that he’d lost track of time. The phone rang three of four times before going to voice mail. The next two calls didn’t even ring, just straight to the service. Yeah, she’s pissed.
Of all the chicks Lazy dealt with, not one of them had his heart the way Dena did. She was smart, sexy, and about her business. Dena, too, encouraged Lazy to do something with his talent, but she also knew how to play her position and leave something alone if he wasn’t receptive to it. She reasoned that Lazy would see the wisdom in her words or he wouldn’t.
“Fuck it,” Lazy said, placing his phone on top of the toilet seat and stripping for his shower. Dena would get over it, she always did.
Chapter 8
“COME ON, GET BACK ON D!” BILLY SHOUTED from the sidelines. “Y’all moving like molasses out there, lets pick up the pace.”
“Coach, we’ve been running the same play for almost a half hour. Can we get a rest?” a young man with tiny boxed braids in his head asked.
“If y’all would get it right then you wouldn’t have to run it so many times. Keep running.” She popped him playfully in the head. Dressed in a tank top and sweat pants, some of the young men found themselves slightly distracted by their new coach. Billy looked like an Eye Candy model, but carried herself like the Gooch from Diff’rent Strokes. Some of the new players looked at the pretty young lady quizzically, as if they didn’t know whether to take her seriously or not, but the ones that knew her reputation did as they were told.
Coaching the thirteen-and-under team was something that she had recently taken on. Between coaching, attending BMCC, working, and balancing her personal life she hardly had time for sleep, but it didn’t bother her too much. Billy had seen firsthand what could happen to kids who didn’t have positive outlets, and it wasn’t pretty.
The summer before, she had endured the murder of one of her closest friends, the rape of another, and the suicide of a cat she had known for ages. All this while trying to make sense of her fucked-up life. After the brutal murder of her boyfriend, Sol, she thought she’d never find love in the arms of a man again, but was shown the light by the most unlikely person.
“Stop talking to them kids like that,” Marcus said as he strolled into the gym like he owned it. He wore a tight-fitting red-and-black motorcycle jacket and carried the matching helmet in his hand. A thin film of sweat coated his face, giving him a slight glow, and increasing his already intoxicating sex appeal.
“If they’d run the plays like I drew them up I wouldn’t have to scream at them,” Billy said before kissing him passionately. A couple of the boys snickered, but a quick look from their coach sent them back to running the play.
“Sweet as candy,” Marcus said, licking the leftover moisture from his upper lip. Marcus was a former knucklehead who turned himself into a legitimate businessman. He owned a strip club and a Laundromat, and he had money invested into several other ventures. Though he had long ago squared up, he still had that thug swagger about him, which turned Billy on to no end. That’s why he was the first cat to get the pussy in the last couple of years.
“You keep talking like that and I might give you some head tonight,” she whispered, brushing herself against him. “What’re you doing here?”
“I came to see if my lady wanted to ride on my chariot,” he grinned.
Billy glanced at his helmet. “Not if you’re on that death-mobile.”
“Quit being a punk.”
“Call me what you want, but that still ain’t gonna get me on that thing.”
“Well, maybe I can get you to ride on this thing.” He grabbed her hand and tried to place it on his crotch, but she snatched it away.
“Don’t do that in front of the kids.”
Marcus looked over at the players, who were trying to pretend they weren’t being nosy. “Man, this ain’t nothing they ain’t never seen. Hell, most of them probably get more pussy than I do.”
“You keep talking reckless and that’s gonna be a true statement.”
“Anyway”—he sucked his teeth—“you going to class from here, or you wanna catch a flick?”
“Nah, I don’t have class tonight. Me and Reese are supposed to hook up. We’ll probably go out for some drinks or something.”
“She better be careful; you remember what happened the last time she got drunk,” he joked, but Billy didn’t laugh. “Boo, you know I was just kidding.” He reached for her but she
jerked away.
“Well, you’ve got a fucked-up sense of humor. That girl has been through a lot,” Billy said with hostility. Poor Reese had made the mistake of getting twisted with a group of young rappers and letting them run a train on her, which resulted in an unwanted pregnancy and an STD. Thankfully, she gave birth to a healthy baby girl, but the identity of the father was never discovered.
Marcus’s head dipped a bit. “Sorry. That was foul.”
“Just like a nigga.” She shook her head. “I swear, y’all are so insensitive when it comes to certain shit. What if that had been you?”
“I don’t think I’d have been too upset if I had fucked five or six chicks at one time,” he snickered. This earned him a hook to the ribs.
“So I ain’t enough woman for you?” she snapped.
“Billy, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He rubbed his ribs. “Why you getting so uptight?”
“Cause you don’t know what to say out ya mouth sometimes, Marcus!” Some of the kids were starting to look, so Billy lowered her voice. “Look, why don’t you just go wherever you were going and I’ll catch up with you later.”
“A’ight, boo. I’ma get up outta here,” he said, leaning in to kiss her on the lips, but she gave him her cheek. “Oh, its like that?”
“Its how you made it,” she said flatly.
“I hear that, Billy,” he said as he left the gym.
Billy stared at his departing back so hard that it’s a wonder she didn’t burn a hole in it. For the most part, Marcus was a very caring and sensitive man, but every so often that ignorant-ass street nigga peeked out. She hated it, but she knew at the end of the day it didn’t define who he really was. Regaining her composure, she turned her attention back to the court.
MARCUS STEPPED OUT OF THE gym feeling like a complete ass. He meant the statement to be a joke, but Billy had caught feelings behind it. The way her moods changed frustrated him to no end. Sometimes they’d be laughing and having a good time and in the next instance she would withdraw or become angry. He tried to be understanding, in light of all she had gone through, but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with.
When he stepped out into the afternoon sun he peeped two young ladies admiring his red-and-black Yamaha. One wore a short skirt, while the other had a pumpkin-sized ass stuffed into a pair of jeans that were so tight that they looked liked they might rip if she bent over. They didn’t look to be more than seventeen or eighteen, but they turned very seasoned eyes in his direction as he approached.
“This your bike?” the one in the skirt asked.
“Yeah,” Marcus said, easing past them and mounting the motorcycle. Though he tried to ignore their stares, they were both eying him like the last supper.
“Why don’t you spin us around the block?” Jeans asked.
Marcus pulled his helmet on, leaving the visor up. “First of all, I ain’t never heard of three people on a bike at the same time. Second, I don’t think you could handle all this horsepower.” He patted the bike.
“I never met a horse I couldn’t ride,” Jeans shot back.
“I’ll bet,” Marcus snickered.
“I’m saying though, why don’t you give me a number or something so I can get at you later?” the skirt cut in.
“Nah, I don’t think my girl would like that.”
“What ya girl don’t know won’t hurt her,” Jeans said.
“Yeah, but if she finds out she might hurt you. One, shorty.” Marcus revved the engine and peeled the bike into traffic.
CLICK. CLICK. CLICK. JAH SAT on the couch flipping his phone open and closed, as if through some miracle it would make things okay. Yoshi had been gone for hours and hadn’t called. He thought about calling her, but pride and lack of courage wouldn’t allow it. It was amazing that, as assertive as he was when it came to the game, he couldn’t quite get it to carry over when it came to his lady. The statement he had made to Yoshi was fucked up, but he didn’t mean it like that.
Jah was still a young dude, so he really didn’t understand affairs of the heart. He knew that he felt for Yoshi what he had never felt for another woman and it scared the hell out of him. For someone who didn’t know what it felt like to be in a relationship with a woman, love was a totally alien concept, so at times he regressed and hid behind his hard-rock persona. He knew he loved her but wasn’t quite sure how to articulate it.
His mind spun back to Stacks Green, who was, in essence, the root of the argument in the first place. Jah understood Yoshi wanting him to go out and get money, but what she didn’t understand was that it was hard to do business with someone you despised. Granted, a check was a check, but when it was coming from Stacks it felt more like a handout, and Jah was never the one to lean on another man for anything. He came along getting it on his own, so that was his mind-set. When it all boiled down to it, it was a pride thing, and he was never one to compromise his morals, even for Yoshi.
“Fuck it,” he said, flipping the phone open to call Yoshi; but he immediately closed it. No, a call wouldn’t do in this case. He would make his apology face-to-face at the video shoot. Besides, it had been a while since he had prowled the jungle, and it would be good to link up with his old comrade Spooky. After placing a quick call to his young comrade Tech, Jah prepared to hit the streets.
“AND WHERE DO YOU THINK your hot ass is off to?” Reese asked her little sister, Sharon, who was admiring her ample rump in the living room mirror.
“Out,” Sharon said flatly.
“Out where?”
“Damn, Reese, why you sweating me?” Sharon let out an aggravated breath.
“Sweating you? Sharon, you just got in from school and you’re going right back out. Whatever happened to studying or homework?”
“I ain’t have none,” Sharon lied fluidly.
“Bullshit.” Reese stood between Sharon and the mirror. “I used to run that same lie on Mommy so I could get back in the streets. Now, where are you off to in those tight-ass jeans?”
Sharon turned around and folded her arms defiantly. “Look, if you must know, my home girls are coming up from Brooklyn and we’re gonna hang out with Karen and them from St. Nick. You happy now?”
Reese slit her eyes at the miniature version of herself. “You think you’re slick, don’t you? Y’all little hot bitches is going over to that fucking video shoot!”
“Reese—”
“Reese my ass.” She grabbed Sharon by her arms roughly. Reese’s eyes were wild with something that Sharon couldn’t quite identify. “Ain’t nothing coming out that camp but the devil. Little sister, y’all young girls see these cats with they jewels and whips and get too blind to see the fucking forest for the trees. Sharon, you think cause you picked up a little hip and thigh, you got the game figured out, but baby you still got some growing to do.”
“I’m good.” Sharon shook her off.
“I hear that hot shit. You trying to stomp wit the big dawgz in a size-two shoe.” Reese laughed. “Sharon, your little ass is cruising for trouble. You ain’t really ready for what the streets got to offer. You need to stay ya ass home once in a while.”
Sharon glared at Reese. “For as much as you run the streets, I know you ain’t trying to lecture me.”
“Yeah, I run the streets, but I’m grown. You’re a teenager who is trying to grow up too damn fast. I’m telling you Sharon, at the rate you’re going you’re gonna find yourself in a bad situation.”
“Like you did?” Sharon shot back. “Reese, you can’t tell me shit, because you do all the same shit I do. Every time I turn around your ass is somewhere getting it in wit ya crew, so where you think I got it from? The difference between me and you is, when I finally get pregnant I’m gonna know who my baby daddy is!”
Before Reese had a chance to stop herself she had slapped Sharon across her face. The younger girl flew backward, and if it weren’t for the wall she would’ve landed flat on her ass. Rage flashed through Sharon’s eyes and she was back on her feet in an ins
tant. She took a step towards Reese, but common sense didn’t let her go any further. Reese had a reputation for being nice with her hands and the look in her eyes told Sharon she was ready to pound her out for her statement. For, however she felt about her older sister, she knew that she couldn’t win in a fist fight.
“I can’t stand your ass!” Sharon screamed before storming off into her bedroom.
“I ain’t too big on your ass either!” Reese called after her. She started to pursue her little sister and give her the ass whipping she had been holding for her, but the sound of Alexis crying brought her back to her senses. Reese went to the other side of the living room and lifted her daughter from the basinet where she had been sleeping.
Alexis represented everything that was good in Reese. She was a jovial child with her mother’s smooth coco skin and God only knew whose eyes. In light of how she was conceived it took Reese a minute to be able to bond with the child. When she was born, Reese refused to touch her or feed her in the hospital. The doctor had told Reese’s mother that she was suffering from postpartum depression, but that wasn’t it at all. Every time she looked at the little girl she was reminded of how she had allowed Don B and his crew to violate her.
She had gone back to the room because she had feeling for a man, who in the end probably didn’t even remember her name. Reese’s eyes were on the prize, but she was actually feeling Don B and, based on the invitation, she thought he was feeling her too. But it was all a setup and her dumb ass walked right into it. He passed her around to his home boys, letting them smash her pussy out in succession. She even got down with a faceless female who was at the freak party. In the end, Don B never gave her a second look and his boys kicked dirt on her name all through the hood. It took a while for Reese to get over what had happened to her, but through counseling and the support of her mother and closest home girls, she was able to get through it.