by Wahida Clark
“I’m here for you now, baby girl.” He put his lips to hers and tasted her salty tears. “Are you still my baby girl?” he asked her while he wiped her tears away. She looked him in his eyes but she didn’t answer. He kissed her again.
“I am so mad at you, Marvin.”
“You should be. You don’t know how bad I felt. I am so sorry. I’ll make it up to you if you let me.”
Kyra felt confused as hell. On one hand, here was a nigga who she was crazy about. But he got her strung out on dope, then left her for seven years. Then there was another nigga, sleep in the bed just a few feet away. He’d been there for her since day one, taking care of her and looking out for her. She pushed Marvin back.
“I need some time to sort some things out.”
He pulled her close and put his tongue deep in her mouth. She tasted so good. He wasn’t planning on letting her go tonight or any other night. He eased his hand down, and in one smooth move he opened her robe. They kept kissing, enjoying the taste of each other. Kyra, just as smooth, tied the robe back. He eased his hand back down and felt between her legs. It was so moist. He slid two fingers across her clit and then slid them inside her. She moaned and grabbed him tighter. He pulled out his fingers and ran his tongue up and down them.
“You still taste so sweet, baby girl. I’ve been waitin’ for this for so long.” He kissed her again, opened her robe and stroked her nipples.
“Marvin, we can’t do this. He’s right in there,” she whispered, pushing him away.
“Yes, we can.” He pulled her close and kissed her long and hard.
He picked her up, carried her into the kitchen and set her on the counter. He put his mouth on her breasts and licked them like they were ice cream cones. Kyra was on fire. She unbuckled his pants and started stroking him. He was already hard. She guided the head and started rubbing it all over her wet mound. Her moaning got louder and louder. He still remembered what each moan meant. He slid it in, going in as deep as he could.
“Don’t move,” she said. It was in so deep and Kyra just wanted to savor the feeling that only he could give her. Marvin always felt so good. He always took his time and made sure she was satisfied. She kissed him and told him how much she’d missed him. Then she told him to make her come real hard. Marvin humped so hard that each time he came out and went back in he lifted her off the counter. Kyra wrapped her legs around his back and held on for dear life.
“Marvin! Marvin! Marv—” she moaned as her body went limp. He went back to licking her nipples, neck, ears, and then sucking on her tongue. His dick was still in deep and it was still hard.
“You okay, baby girl?”
She looked him in the eyes and kissed him softly on his lips. “Damn, I’ve missed you,” she said.
“I know. I’ve missed you, too.”
Kyra started gyrating her hips, making him even harder inside her.
“I ain’t got no protection on, baby girl, and I’m gonna come real hard if you don’t stop.”
She stopped moving. “How much do you miss me?” she whispered.
“More than you’ll ever know.”
“Kiss me,” she said. He did as he eased out of that place where he’d dreamt about being for seven years. Then she put both feet on the counter and slowly pushed his head down between her legs. He parted her lips and began licking and sucking. It was driving her crazy. She moaned and groaned and gyrated those hips until she exploded again. She lay back on the counter as limp as a rag doll. Marvin grabbed some paper towels, wiped himself, her and the counter.
“Go pack the rest of your shit, baby girl. I’m taking you with me.” Before she could protest, he said, “I don’t want to hear shit about that nigga in the other room, ’cause obviously he ain’t handling his business. You act like you ain’t been fucked in months.”
Kyra looked at him as he lifted her off the counter. He leaned down and kissed her.
“Go ahead. Pack the rest of your shit. I’ll start taking the other boxes downstairs.”
She did as she was told.
Marvin had taken off his shirt while he was carrying her stuff downstairs. After the last of the stuff was in the truck, he told Kyra to wait in the truck while he went up to get his shirt. When he got into the apartment, he pulled out his gat and went into the bedroom. He pressed the hard steel to Tyler’s nose. Ty’s eyes popped wide open.
“What’s up, partna?” Marvin said to Tyler. “Who got the upper hand now? I know you ain’t think I was gonna let you slide with robbin’ me and killin’ my boy. You dumb motherfucker.”
“Fuck you!” Tyler spat, with the steel stuck to his nose.
“If you would have been fucking your woman, she wouldn’t have been packing. I’m enjoying this. This is my day. I just got done fucking her right in your kitchen, man. I can’t believe how dumb you are. However, I do appreciate you looking out for her and keeping her safe while I was gone. See you in hell, partna!”
PART THREE
Jaz
Chapter 18
“Taylor! Bag and baggage!” C.O. Johnson coughed as the Camel dangled from her lips.
“Bust the fucking gates!” yelled Micki Taylor, Jaz’s twenty-nine-year-old sister.
“Don’t come back no time soon. Let us at least get a chance to wash your sheets,” C.O. Johnson barked sarcastically.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ma be a’ight,” Micki said with a nervous squeak in her voice. She picked up the army green duffle bag that held the stuff she’d collected over the last five years. Then she flopped down on the metal bench and stared at the sign that read “Receiving and Discharging—Clinton Correctional Women’s Facility.”
She let out a long sigh. The correctional facility had been her residence for the last half decade, ever since she was convicted for possession and trafficking crack cocaine. She rubbed her sweaty hands, then got down on her knees and prayed.
“Oh, Lord, please give me the strength to stay on the right path. Thank you for keeping my three daughters, Tameka, Shadai and Misa safe for me. Thank you for allowing them to forgive me and not forget me. I want to be a mother to them and take care of them. Please give me strength. Amen.”
“Good-bye, Pink. Take care of yourself.” That was her drug counselor, Mr. Rhames. He waved at her and kept on going. They had developed a pretty good friendship during the time Micki was locked up. He always teased her, telling her she looked just like the white punk rocker who went by the name Pink.
“Let’s go, Taylor,” another officer shouted.
Here goes to be being free, Micki said to herself as the metal gates clicked, clanged, and clacked to slide open and set her free. Then it clicked, clanged, and clacked to keep the rest of the sisters inside.
The sun was shining bright as she stepped outside on this crisp October day. Micki was looking forward to seeing her baby sister, Jaz. She set her green duffle bag on the ground, stretched out her arms, looked up at the sky and yelled, “I’m Freeeee!” as she twirled around in circles. People were passing by on their way to work or to visit relatives who were locked up, but no one paid her any attention. She slowed her circles and leaned over, resting her hands on her knees. That’s when she burst out laughing. She felt so good. At least, until she looked up and saw a white man with greasy, slicked back hair. He was blowing kisses in her direction. She stood up and glared at him.
“Well, hello, Mr. Hamilton.” Micki smirked, folding her arms. It was her jive-ass public defender.
“Hello.” He grinned as he extended his hand. “And you are?”
“Why do you want to know?” His sorry ass didn’t even recognize her.
“I was going to offer you a ride. It looks like you need one.”
“You don’t even recognize me, do you? You slimy motherfucker!” She spat. His face reddened.
“It’s Micki Taylor, Mr. Sign-this-MissTaylor-and-the-most-you’ll-do-is-two-years. You greaseball. I ended up doing five fuckin’ years thanks to your sorry ass! I hope you burn in hell!�
� She picked up a handful of rocks and threw them at him. He ran.
Honk! Honk! Honk!
Micki turned at the sound of the car horn. It was a Cadillac Escalade, and a woman was hanging out the window, pointing a video camera.
“Busted!” Angel yelled. “Throwing rocks at a white man! Ain’t been out of jail five minutes and already you committing a crime!”
Micki screamed and ran toward the car. Jaz and Roz jumped out of the car. Everyone was screaming, jumping up and down. Angel was walking, holding the video camera steady, trying to tape this Kodak moment.
“Welcome to the free world, big sis.” Jaz kissed her eldest sister and grabed her in a big bear hug.
“Dayum! You been killing the potatoes, dawg!” Roz joked.
“Puh-leese! You should have seen my big ass two months ago. I was 160 pounds. Now I’m down to 142.” Micki grinned, turning and spinning, trying to walk like a model.
“Come give me a hug, you yellow heifer,” Micki joked at Angel.
“It takes one to know one. You lighter than me!” Angel laughed, then said, “Your hair is the shit. They got them kind of skills up in there?”
“Yeah. You got every kind of skill imaginable behind bars. Some of the sisters got it going on. I’ma miss a few of them, but I ain’t going back. Let’s get the fuck outta here before they change their minds.” They all hopped in the Escalade.
“Lil’ sis, you gotta be slangin’ something to be rocking this shit! This is nice. I wish my homegirls could have seen me jump into this.” She opened the glove compartment.
“Faheem bought this for me,” Jaz said.
“Oh, yeah. Faheem. I like that picture of you and him that you sent me. That nigga is fine. He look like Method Man, only a little better. I would love to hit that!”
“Don’t even think about it, my sister. Ain’t no man swapping in this family.” They all laughed.
“You got that nigga sprung anyway, from what I heard. See, we get all the gossip that goes on out here in the so-called free world. Them hos up in there be talking about the ballers, and his name comes up quite often. They say he’s a freak. They can’t wait to get out to get with that. He be slangin’ hard I heard. Naw, but I did hear that he done chilled as far as the hos are concerned.”
“He used to deal, but not anymore. Them hos can forget it. He’s my freak now. I got that on lock.”
“I hear you, baby sis. Handle your business.”
“How he buy this car?”
“He own liquor stores all over town. No matter what side of town you go to. North, south, east or west. He got it on lock.”
“Shit, he make that much loot just sellin’ liquor?” Micki asked.
“Not exactly,” Jaz admitted. “He’s sellin’ counterfeit bills.”
“Yeah,” added Roz. “And the shits look real, girl.”
“That’s right. My man be pullin’ in money by the truckload in his business,” Jaz said proudly.
“Dayum! That’s what I’m talking bout. Don’t fuck it up, Jaz. Take it from me. I got three babies and three babies’ daddies. Only one of them is worth something. When you find some man who’ll take care of you and love you, you better hold on to him. And it’s bonus if he can fuck you. You hear me?”
“I hear you.”
“Why was you throwing rocks at that white dude?” Angel asked.
“That was my fucking shithead public defender. I hate him. I’m glad I wasn’t packing a gat,” hissed Micki.
“I’m glad, too,” Roz said. “You ain’t bringing me down for conspiracy to murder.”
“I feel you. Where’s your cousin Kyra?” Micki asked, turning around to look at Angel.
“That’s a long story,” Angel said.
“Well, start talking. We got a two and a half hour drive, and I want to know all the gossip.”
“I thought you hear everything on the inside,” teased Angel.
“I want to hear it from the horse’s mouth. Not the watered down version.”
“Well, you know that nigga Marvin got out, right?”
“Hell, yeah. That’s another name that comes up all the time. He did seven years at Sing Sing. They say he look finer than before he went upstate. And they say he is paid.”
“Anyway, the same day he got out he went to see Kyra, and the bitch was living in Tyler’s crib. Tyler was asleep and Marvin fucked her right there in Tyler’s house. Then he made Kyra pack her shit and he took her with him that same night. He went back and smoked Tyler. Now Marvin and Kyra live somewhere in the boondocks with all these bougie black folks.”
“And she five months pregnant!” Jaz put her two cents in.
“What? He went to the nigga’s house and fucked her? Dayum. That nigga ain’t nothing nice. This sound like some TV Mafia shit. He must have been puttin’ it down for her to go back with him after seven fuckin’ years,” Micki said. “Now that’s some gossip! Well, is Kyra happy?”
“Every time we see her she is. He got her a house, and that shit is laid!” Roz said.
“Well, at least somebody’s happy. Me? I just wanna stay out of trouble. No more drugs. I just wanna go home and sit in the tub and spend time with my children. I got to get to know them all over again.” She got quiet as she stared out the window. “Misa is five and a half years old now. Shadai is seven and Tameka is eight. They don’t know me.”
“Stop the sentimental shit, Micki. Tonight is girls’ night out. I got it all planned. One more day ain’t gonna hurt what’s already done. You can start playing mommy tomorrow,” said Jaz. “Faheem got us a limo. We gonna eat at Sylvia’s restaurant in Harlem, then we goin’ clubbin’.”
“E-yeah, e-yeah! e-yeah! We be clubbin! Everybody like it when a girl shake sumthin’! We be clubbin’!” They all were bouncing, trying to sing Ice Cube’s joint. They belted out the tune until none of them knew the rest of the words, then they burst out laughing.
“Serious y’all. Get fly. Put on your hoochie gear and be at my momma’s crib at 7:30. The limo will be picking us up from there,” Jaz instructed.
Jaz dropped off Roz and then Angel. She and Micki headed for their mother’s house. Their dad was waiting on the porch. They had the house decorated inside and out. Micki’s daughters were all dressed up, and they each had a gift for her. Grandma Rachel, Micki and Jaz’s mom, dad and their two brothers, Punk Eddy and Darien, with his four kids, were all there. Their sister Tanisha and her two kids were there as well. Everyone was glad to see that Micki was home.
Chapter 19
After a little welcome home party with Micki and their family, Jaz put on a beige miniskirt by Bisou Bisou, some brown leather Boudicca boots and a cashmere beige sweater. She left her mother’s house to go catch up with Faheem. Because of school and work she hadn’t seen him in two days, and she missed him. She drove toward his west side liquor store, hoping to see his Jag parked out front. It was there, so she pulled up behind it, turned off the engine and popped a peppermint Certs in her mouth. She had a smile on her face as she went inside.
“Hey, Uncle John. Buzz me back,” she said to Faheem’s Uncle John. Uncle John was 6 foot 4 inches, bald, brown-skinned, and wore an eye patch over his right eye. He ran this liquor store on the west side of town for Faheem.
“What’s shaking, Miss Jazzy?” He said as he pushed the buzzer.
“I just dropped off Micki. She’s home.”
“Oh, yeah? That’s good. Jack and Glenda are getting too old to be watching all them youngins. I hope she stay out of trouble.”
“Me, too. Where’s Faheem?”
“That knucklehead is back there in his office.”
Faheem’s door was locked. Jaz knocked. The radio was blasting “It Wasn’t Me” by Shaggy. She knocked louder.
“It’s me,” she yelled.
The door popped open. Faheem had a blunt hanging out his mouth and a pile of money in his hands. He was counting money, then wrapping it in colored paper strips with dollar signs on them. It was impossible for Jaz to te
ll which bills were real.
“Hey, baby.” She went over and kissed him on the cheek. She took off her brown snakeskin jacket and set it with the matching handbag on the chair across from Faheem. “I just dropped Micki at the house. She can’t wait to meet you.”
After he finished counting the last stack, he put the blunt down. “She a’ight?”
“She seem like it. Nervous, but she seem okay. She claims that she’s gonna stay on the straight and narrow. But we’ll see. I hope so, for the kids’ sake,” Jaz said as she watched Faheem stack the piles of money.
“Why you got that short-ass skirt on?” Faheem said. “Come here.” Jaz got up and sat on Faheem’s lap. He kissed her, sucking on her tongue to taste the peppermint Certs she’d just swallowed. He started kissing her neck.
“Don’t start nothing you ain’t gonna finish,” she whispered in his ear.
“Baby, you know I takes care of mines,” he said. “That’s why you came over here wearing this short-ass skirt. You ain’t slick. I know what you up to.” He started unbuttoning her sweater. Jaz had on no bra. Faheem started biting on her nipples. She couldn’t think straight when he did that.
“You think you know me so well. Who else’s nipples you been sucking on like this?” she teased while she licked his ear.
“I only like to bite on yours. Yours always taste like chocolate.” He reached under her skirt and pulled off her moist thong. She unfastened his jeans and pulled out his dick.
“Where’re your condoms?” she asked him as she squeezed it and made it harder.
“You ain’t got one?” he asked her through his moans.
“Why should I carry them around with me? I ain’t fuckin’ nobody else.”
“You better not be,” he said as he flicked his finger back and forth real fast across her clit.
“Baby, that feels so good,” she moaned in his ear. Faheem kissed her deeply as he slid two fingers in and out of her wet tunnel. She held on tight as her hips gyrated round and round.