by Wahida Clark
Jaz planned to stay inside the whole weekend. She had a ton of homework, not to mention she had to clean her own house and do laundry for her and Faheem. She didn’t speak to anyone all day Saturday, but Faheem woke her Sunday morning with the sound of his keys landing on her glass coffee table.
“I hate it when he does that,” she mumbled. Faheem came into the bedroom and dove on top of her.
“Ooww!” she yelled and punched Faheem on his arm. “Why you gotta play so early in the morning?”
“Baby, it’s almost noon.” He kissed her stomach. “How come you didn’t come over last night?”
“I told you I had two papers to write. I’m still not finished. Now let me up so I can brush my teeth and wash my face.” Faheem got up, took off his jacket and threw it on the arm of the chair.
“You want me to help you with your homework?”
“I wish you could.”
“I ran into Marvin last night. He’s glad he’s having a baby.”
“How do you know he’s glad?” she asked, trying to floss at the same time.
“’Cause he said so. He’s talking about moving to Cali. Said ain’t shit happening in Jersey.”
“He’s taking Kyra to Cali?” Jaz peeked her head out of the doorway.
“That’s his woman. Why wouldn’t he take her?”
“Damn. I wonder when was she planning on telling somebody.”
“I also ran into Tyler’s brother Ahmad.”
“Where was you at, a ballers convention?”
Faheem ignored that comment. “You know their baby brother got killed?”
Jaz came out of the bathroom, wiping her face. “Who? Lil’ Anthony? How?”
“Yeah, Lil’ Anthony. You know he was always stealing cars just to be joyridin’ and shit. He stole a Camaro and the police chased his ass all around the East Side. They were chasing him for about 40 minutes, then he jumped on Route 29 doing about a hundred. Sideswiped three cars before he slid under a moving tractor trailer. Took the top of the car off and they say his head, too. Then it caught on fire. Ahmad is fucked up about that shit. He lost two brothers in one year.”
“Dayum! Kyra was crazy bout Lil’ Anthony. I gotta call her.” Jaz went to the phone next to her bed and started dialing. The phone kept ringing. Jaz hung up, then decided to page her. She picked up the phone again. Faheem left the bedroom when Kyra called right back. He knew they’d probably be on the phone for a while.
He let Jaz and Kyra talk for about an hour before he hit the remote and went back into the bedroom. As Jaz stood next to the bed and talked on the phone, she watched Faheem take off his clothes. She still didn’t hang up when he came over and slid off her negligee and matching panties. He sat on the side of the bed and ran his hand slowly up and down her thighs. Jaz turned around to face him and he reached between her legs to massage her clit. She stifled a moan, but she kept talking to Kyra. Faheem liked watching the pleasure on her face as he slid three fingers deep inside her. When he found her G-spot, Jaz shuddered and released a stream of juices.
“I gotta go, girl,” she told Kyra, then hung up without waiting for a response.
“Do that again,” she told Faheem, her voice trembling with passion.
Faheem swirled his tongue around her erect nipples as he massaged her G-spot again. He was making her scream with pleasure. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she came again. Faheem didn’t stop. He kept working her until she finally collapsed against him, trembling and crying. He loved to see her this way. Faheem knew he was the shit.
“You okay, baby?” He looked up at her with a smile. “That’s what you get for not coming over last night.”
“Oh, yeah?” Jaz said. “Well I got something for you, too.”
She pushed him back on the bed, tucked a pillow under his head and began stroking and squeezing his dick. He put both hands behind his head to watch her. Jaz lowered her head and wrapped her lips around Faheem’s dick. He closed his eyes and started moaning.
“Baby, that feels good,” he whispered. Jaz responded by swallowing him as far into her throat as she could get it.
He was trembling when he hollered, “Whoa baby, don’t make me bust a nut yet!” She eased up, and looked up at his face. His dick was standing straight up when she straddled him and slid down on his long pole, nice and slow. Just when he hit bottom, she pulled it out. She kept teasing him by sliding on and off it. The more she did it, the harder it got. When he couldn’t take anymore, he grabbed her butt and held her down tight. He gave a good thrust to get in as deep as possible, then started rocking her back and forth until she had an orgasm that seemed like it would never stop. Finally, she collapsed on top of him.
Faheem let her rest for a few, then he flipped her over and placed kisses all over her body. She moaned and groaned, telling him how much she loved him. He was still hard as a rock, so he pulled her up onto her hands and knees and slid it in from behind. He massaged her ass and smiled to himself. Her moistness felt so good, and he was glad she hadn’t mentioned anything about latex. He loved the way she felt without it, and though he didn’t tell her, Faheem wanted Jaz to have his baby.
“Whose pussy is this?” he whispered in her ear as he pumped her doggy-style.
“It’s yours, Faheem,” she moaned.
“Don’t you ever forget that shit.” He told her, then he gave it one last push and busted a big nut.
Chapter 22
Jaz was sitting in her organic chemistry class on Monday morning when her pager started to vibrate. She looked at the number but didn’t recognize it. She figured it was probably Faheem, out somewhere. She waited until after class to dial the number from her cell phone.
“Hello?” A male voice said.
“This is Jaz. Who is this?”
“I know who you are. I can’t get that voice outta my head. This is Smooth.”
Jaz’s eyes got wide. She knew she’d given him the pager number, but she didn’t really think he’d call, and definitely not so soon.
“Hey, what’s up?” she finally said.
“I’m checking to see what’s up with you.”
“I’m getting ready to hit my quantitative analysis class.”
“That course is a motherfucker! You trying to get it done, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m trying. It ain’t easy.”
“Tell me about it,” Smooth said. “Listen, I’m in the area and I was wondering if I could treat you to lunch.”
“Thanks, but not today. Mondays are full for me. I’ll have to take a raincheck.”
“A’ight. Can I get your home number?”
“I’m rarely home, Smooth. And when I am, you remember Faheem, right? Well, he’s always there. So, no, you can’t have my number.”
“How serious is it between you and him? I didn’t see no rock on your finger, so it can’t be all that serious.”
“Oh, he got the rock. I haven’t put it on yet.” This nigga gotta lot of nerve, she thought.
“Well, if you was mines, you wouldn’t even be hesitating to put it on.”
I ain’t got to explain myself to this nigga.
“Is that so?” she said with attitude.
“Yeah. That is so. I’ll hit you up again.”
Jaz closed up her cell phone and went on to her next class. She thought nothing of the phone conversation as she plopped down next to Brett Dumont, a white nerd who had been in almost all of her classes for the last two and a half years. They were both working on a chemistry major.
“What’s up, Brett?”
“These fucking term papers, Jasmine.”
“Tell me about it.”
“You’ll be ready after class?”
“Yeah. I’ll be ready. I’ll meet you out front.”
After class, Jaz hit the ladies’ room and the snack machine before she went outside. Brett was parked out front, sitting on the hood of his Chevy Impala with an open book in his lap. When he looked up and saw Jaz coming, he got down and gathered up his belongings.
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Every Monday and Thursday Jaz went with Brett somewhere in the boondocks deep down in Jersey or Pennsylvania. She would never know where they were headed until they were on their way. Jaz was a cook. She and Brett cooked up crank, or crystal meth, by the pound. Crank is a speed that keeps the user up for days, and white folks loved it. That shit was big money.
Jaz cooked twice a week, at twelve grand per day. She didn’t have to sell it. She and Brett would cook it, pack it, then he would pay her in cash. They would jump in the car and go, so she never knew how the meth was being distributed on the streets. She assumed that someone else would come and pick it up.
Jaz never told anyone what she was doing for extra money, not even her girls and especially not Faheem. Brett was the only person who knew, and she was glad. She felt a little bad about what she did, but she was at least glad that she was not selling to her people. The shit was flooding the white neighborhoods, and she was able to stash twenty-four grand a week, hoping to use some of the money to retire her parents to a nice, big house down South someday. Her chemistry major was already paying off big time, and she hadn’t even graduated yet.
Jaz usually fell asleep while Brett drove. This day was no different. When the car finally stopped, she sat up, yawned and stretched.
“Time to make the donuts!” Brett joked. She grabbed her book bag with her change of clothes and they went inside. They worked for hours and at the end of the night, Jaz pocketed another twelve grand.
“Now, please hurry up and get me out of these fuckin’ boondocks,” she said to Brett, and they both laughed. By the time Brett dropped her off in front of the school to pick up her car, it was almost 10:00 P.M. She had to wait until morning to stash her money.
The next morning, Jaz’s pager vibrated again during class. This time she recognized the number. It was Smooth again. She decided it was time to tell him to stop paging her, ’cause ain’t nothing happening. She called him.
“What’s up, Smooth?”
“Guess where I’m at?”
“Back at the club in New York?” she joked, hoping that he was far away.
“Naw, I’m right out front. I told you I want to take you to lunch. Wherever you want to go.”
“That won’t be a good thing, Smooth.”
“Why not? It’s just lunch. Plus, you could pick my brain for those two exams you got coming up. Kill two birds with one stone.”
“You just made me an offer I can’t refuse. I’ll be right out.”
When Jaz got out front he was standing by his car signing autographs. When he looked up and saw her coming, he left his fans and approached her.
“Damn, girl! You look fine even in baggy jeans and a sweatshirt,” he said as he hugged her.
“I feel like a bum. Look at you, Armani down. I knew I should have declined your invitation.” She looked him up and down and noticed that he really was fine. That dark club didn’t do him any justice.
“I’m not letting you back out. Look, I’ll lose the jacket and the tie.” He took them both off and laid them in the trunk. “Give me your books.” He put them in the trunk, too. “Now, is this better?”
“Not really.”
He smiled and opened the car door for her.
“Nice ride,” she told him. It was a Benz convertible, a navy blue two-seater. It had beige Coach leather seats and navy blue carpet.
“Where do you want to go?” He looked at her and smiled.
Jaz thought about it. “Let’s go to the Hyatt on Route 1. I love their key lime pie.”
“No problem.” Smooth was being the perfect gentleman. Opening up doors, pulling out chairs. Jaz enjoyed his company as they talked about Princeton and all the classes he had taken that she was taking now. In between his meal of mushroom chicken and marinated asparagus salad, Smooth had to stop a few times to sign autographs for fans who stopped by their table. Jaz watched how much he loved the attention as she ate her sesame fish and gingered spinach. They both had the key lime pie for dessert.
When lunch was over, neither one of them was ready to say good-bye. Jaz invited Smooth over to her place so she could pick his brain about upcoming term papers and assignments. Smooth took her back to the school to get her Escalade, then he followed her home.
They worked for three hours straight on her chemistry term paper. Smooth got on the Internet and showed her all the hot spots for the research she needed to do. They had books and papers scattered everywhere. The brother wasn’t a dummy, and Jaz was grateful for his help.
“Oh, my God,” she said as she looked at the time. “I didn’t know we’d been working so long. Can I at least get you something to drink?” she said.
“Whatever you have,” he answered. Jaz came back with two Tropicana Twisters, and they plopped on the couch together. It wasn’t long before Smooth leaned over and tried to kiss Jaz.
“Look, Smooth,” she said as she pushed him away. “I ain’t like those hoochies falling all over you at the restaurant. Just ’cause you a ball player don’t mean I want to fuck you. I appreciate your help with my term paper and all, but I already told you I got a man, and he gives me everything I need, thank you.” What she didn’t tell him was that if she wasn’t Faheem’s woman, it would definitely be on.
“I want you to come to my next game.” Smooth wasn’t about to give up.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“You’re not used to rejection, are you?”
Jaz’s jaw dropped when she heard keys jingling in the front door lock. Before she could say anything, Faheem walked in the room.
“Aw, shit!” She stood up and put some distance between her and Smooth.
Faheem threw the keys on the glass table. “Hey, baby.” He looked at Smooth, then back at Jaz.
“What’s up? You aiight, or am I interrupting something in my own motherfuckin’ house?” He kept his gaze locked on Smooth, who had a smirk on his face.
“We were working on my term papers and researching info on the Internet. You remember Smooth, right, baby?” Her heart was racing. “He was just leaving.”
Faheem’s nose was flaring and that big vein popped up on his forehead. He looked at Smooth.
“You that nigga from the club,” he said angrily. “How the fuck you gonna disrespect me like this, man?” He reached behind his back and pulled out his .44. When he saw Smooth reach for his jacket, he cocked it and pressed the barrel against his forehead.
“Faheem!” Jaz screamed. “What is the matter with you? We was working, baby!” She stepped back and started crying. “You crazy, Faheem!”
Faheem was seeing blood and didn’t hear a word she said.
“Answer me, motherfucker! How you gonna be all up in a nigga’s house?”
“Look, man, the bitch invited me over. What would you—”
Faheem cracked him in the head with the butt of the gun and then punched him in the mouth. Jaz was now screaming hysterically. Faheem hit Smooth in the mouth again and liked it when he saw the blood running down his chin.
“Get the fuck outta my house.” He put the gun back in his face and said, “This is your lucky day. One, because I don’t want your fuckin’ blood all over my house, and two, because this bitch is a witness. That’s the only reason I won’t blow your fuckin’ brains out, G.”
Smooth staggered out the front door. Faheem slammed the door and locked it. Jaz stood crying in the middle of the room.
“Faheem, we wasn’t doing nothing!” He put his gun away. “Studying, my ass, Jaz. Do you think I’m stupid?” he yelled.
“I swear, Faheem!” She was trembling, scared of what Faheem might do next. “You’re crazy, Faheem.” She collapsed onto the couch.
“Why the fuck you got a nigga up in my crib? You the one who’s fuckin’ crazy!” He picked up the coffee table and dumped everything off it. Juice, glasses, books and papers. He grabbed the lamp and tossed it at the wall.
“Stop it, Faheem!” she screamed.
“Why you had
to fuckin’ play me like that, Jaz? I told you not to call that nigga! How long you been fuckin’ him?” He was standing over her with his fist balled up.
“I didn’t fuck him, Faheem! I swear!” she screamed. The tears were pouring down her face. “You know I would never hurt you like that.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Faheem, baby.”
He ignored her and went and looked in the bathroom for evidence that this bitch was lying. He didn’t even care that he didn’t find anything.
“I don’t believe this shit!” he grabbed his keys off the floor. “Come get your shit out of my apartment by tonight and leave my fuckin’ keys on the fuckin’ dresser. Whatever you don’t pick up, it’s going outside in the fuckin’ trash.” He walked out the door, slamming it so hard the front windowpane cracked.
“Faheem!” Jaz got up and ran to the door. “I didn’t fuck him!” she screamed.
Faheem slammed down his trunk, jumped in his Jag and sped off. Jaz cried until she had no more tears left and her throat was raw.
Chapter 23
My brothers, I can’t believe this shit! I ain’t gonna try to front. I’m all fucked up. This is how it went down. My dick is hard, so I go to my woman’s house to get me some pussy. I walk in the door and she got some punk-ass ball-playing motherfucker sitting all up on my shit. I tried to be cool. I tried not to lose it. But I lost it. Then he had the nerve to call her a bitch and say she invited him over. Shit, I know the game. I still got my player’s card in my wallet. Fuck, I got a fuckin’ plaque hangin’ on my wall! I swear, I could’ve blown his fuckin’ brains out right then and there.
I know Jaz. I done spoiled the bitch. I know she ain’t fuck him, but it’s the principle of the thing. They both were fully dressed, books and papers were all over the place and the computer was on. I even checked the bedroom and the bathroom. Everything was straight. I still lost it. Like I said, it’s the principle of the thing. Just the thought of some other nigga going up into mines gives me the fuckin’ creeps.