by Wahida Clark
I can’t believe she played me like that. I make sure she don’t want for nothing. That house is mines. I let her have it. I live in a fuckin’ apartment. The Escalade, I paid for that. She don’t have to worry about me bringing no diseases home or disrespecting her. Bitches don’t be calling the house or none of that shit. I never even hit her. I wanted to today, though. But I didn’t. I just threw shit around.
You know what? I’m glad this shit happened. She need to be taught a lesson. If a nigga is good to you, you don’t play him. You love him, respect him and give him some babies who love him and respect him. That’s the way I was taught. Then it’s an added bonus if your nigga can push all the right buttons. I make sure she come two or three times before I even get one. Ain’t too many niggas gonna do that for a bitch. Shit, ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for her.
I remember when she finally let me take her out. We went to the club. We had a good time. We was really feelin’ each other. When I took her home I parked in front of her crib. She was real direct.
I said, “I want you to be my woman.”
She looked at me and got all serious.
“I want to be your woman, but you got to be able to take care of me without being in the game. You’re smart and ambitious, not to mention you are fine. I’ve been watching you. Plus, I heard that you can fuck real good and that you got a hurricane tongue.”
“That’s what you heard, huh? I don’t know from where.”
“C’mon, Faheem. You know you gets around, so stop playing the innocent role.”
“Yeah, but that getting around, that shit gets real old after a while.”
“I can’t tell.”
“Trust me. It does.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I’m ready to chill out with you, and you alone. And I want to know if you could chill with me and me alone.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Well, let’s do it.”
“I told you. Whoever I chill with won’t be in the game. I can’t spend my time with someone for a year or two, worryin’ if he’s gonna get snatched up and sent to prison for twenty years. That’s a waste of my time and energy. My heart couldn’t take it.”
I thought about that for a while.
“Why are you so quiet? Can’t do it, can you?”
“I’m just thinking, that’s all. I’m a step ahead of you. I’m already working on getting out. My pops is in prison. My brother and two of my uncles are locked down. I know them mafuckas got a cell waitin’ on my ass. I’m trying, Jaz. I’m trying.”
“Well, Faheem. It’s on you now. I will wait for you, but not forever. Just come and get me when you’re ready. Now, unlock the door.”
“Oh, it’s like that, huh?”
“I told you. I’ll be ready to commit, and I’ll wait for you to get your shit together. How long I’ll wait, I don’t know. I had fun tonight, but I got to get up early. I got a class at eight.”
“Can I get a kiss, so that I’ll at least know what I got waitin’ for me?”
“Unlock the door first, just in case you might wanna try something.”
I leaned over and kissed her. A kiss that lasted almost five minutes.
“Mmm, Jaz.” I rubbed her thigh. “Let me taste you.”
“You already did,” she said, looking straight in my eyes.
“You know what I’m talking about,” I told her as I raised her skirt.
“Oh, you think you smooth like that, huh? You go down on every female on the first date? So I guess the rumors are true.”
“Nah. You can’t believe everything you hear. I’m only going down on you because you said you wanted to be my woman and you would commit, and I know you ain’t lying. Plus, I want to give you a damn good reason to wait for me.”
“Oh, it’s like that?”
“Yeah, it’s like that.”
She leaned back against the door and I spread her thighs so my tongue could work its magic. It didn’t take long before I had her moaning and groaning, trying to climb to the roof of the car. She grabbed my head and came long and hard, all over my face. Damn, she tasted good.
“Yeah, you definitely worth a nigga walking the straight and narrow.” I unlocked the door for her.
“You don’t know how bad I want to fuck you. Don’t keep me waiting too long,” she told me as she got out the car.
That girl had my head fucked up after that. It took me almost two years to turn shit over and over good enough to have something to sit on and open the liquor stores. Then I went and got her. I guess she gave up on me, ’cause I had to take her from this nigga Sabu. He wasn’t shit. Nigga ain’t know how to handle a woman like her. She looked at me like I was a knight in shining armor.
Now, look at this dumb shit she done went and pulled.
She just want to finish school before she give me a baby. But I want a baby now. Because after she gets her Bachelor’s degree, she going for her Master’s. And knowing her, then she’ll be on for her Ph.D. I say fuck that, we gotta have babies in between. She ain’t gotta work nowhere, and she can still keep going to school. That’s why I don’t be wearing no protection whenever I can get away with it.
So, what am I gonna do now? A lesson must be taught. I’ma punish her ass.
Chapter 24
Well, my sisters, I know most of you are probably saying that I fucked up big time. Let curiosity get the best of me. I knew I should have followed my gut feelings and told Smooth to stop paging me. I should have never called him back. That ho had the nerve to call me a bitch. He better not let me catch his ass nowhere. I don’t care what team he play for. All I did was go to a simple lunch with him. We came back to the crib, put a big-ass dent in my backlog of assignments and drank some juice. We talked, he told me about the contract he signed with the Nets and he did kiss me once. But that’s all I let him do. He begged me for a taste, but I told him I don’t allow taste tests.
I definitely couldn’t go there. That would be suicide, knowing that Faheem has a key and could walk in at any moment. I was adamant. No can do! Homeboy got game, but I ain’t crazy. Faheem act like he got a built-in radar that’ll tell him if I fucked somebody or not. That nigga is crazy. You see how he acted. Imagine if he woulda caught us doing something—we both would have been dead. Plus, I couldn’t and wouldn’t dog Faheem out like that. I’m crazy about him, and he is too good to me. I don’t have any complaints other than him throwing his keys on my glass table. He gives me my space and he is the shit in the bedroom. I do love him a whole lot, and he would be the man who I’d marry. He’s responsible, he’s smart, he’s a provider, and he’s fine as hell and he knows it.
This was the first time I ever saw him in a rage. He was mad as hell. I was crouched on the sofa, praying Please God, don’t let this nigga hit me. Now I feel sick at the thought of losing him over some bullshit.
After I cleaned up the mess that Faheem made, I paged Angel, Roz, and Kyra. I needed guidance and moral fuckin’ support. Everyone called me right back. In between sobs I told them what all happened. Roz called me a dumb bitch. Kyra gave me a lecture on treating your man the way you would want to be treated. She got a lot of fuckin’ nerve. At least I didn’t bone him while Faheem was in the next room sleep! Angel called me a stupid-ass whore and told me to throw myself on the ground in front of him and beg for forgiveness. She also volunteered to go with me to get my stuff from his apartment. She said one good thing is that if he really thought I fucked him, he would have put me out of his house, put my ass on the street. Faheem don’t play. The nigga is sweet, but he can act crazy.
So I went and got my shit out of his apartment and I prayed that Angel was right. Maybe he really did believe me. I just had to wait out his little punishment, and sooner or later he’d call me. I just didn’t know how long he would make me wait.
Chapter 25
It had been two weeks since Jaz emptied her things from Faheem’s apartment and left the keys on his dresser. In that time, Jaz waited p
atiently for Faheem to contact her. Smooth kept blowing up her pager, but she refused to call him back. She was not about to speak to no brother who called her a bitch, fine or not.
When she couldn’t take Faheem’s silence anymore, she tried to contact him. He refused to answer her pages, no matter how many times she tried. When she called his cell, he would hang up as soon as he heard her voice. After a while he just turned off the ringer. Her only choice then was to go by his liquor stores and try to talk to him in person. But he knew she would do that sooner or later, so he’d already told his employees not to let her back to see him.
After a while, she just gave up. All the time and energy she was spending trying to talk to Faheem was time she could have been spending on her schoolwork. The semester would be over in another month, and she did not want to fuck up her grades now. So she started spending all her time either at school, or with her sister Micki.
She was glad to know that Micki was adjusting pretty well to the free world. She had found part-time clerical work at Motor Vehicles and had moved out of her mother’s house and in with her grandmother, who lived in the projects. Micki said her mother’s house was too crowded, even though their parents’ home had six bedrooms.
Along with their parents, Glenda and Jack Taylor, Micki and her three kids had to share the house with her brother Darien and two of his kids, her sister Tanisha and her two boys, and her brother Punk Eddy, who had AIDS. Micki told Jaz the main reason she had to get out of that house was because she couldn’t stand to be around Punk Eddy, and Jaz understood why.
When Eddy was twelve years old, six members of this gang called Notorious Philly Hoods was threatening to kick his ass. To divert the ass whipping, he took them to the house. He held down Micki, who was only ten years old, while all six of the Hoods raped her. As if that wasn’t enough, he let all six of them do him, too. That’s where the name Punk Eddy came from. When their cousin Juwan found out, he beat Eddy until he almost died. Punk Eddy wasn’t right in the head since.
Micki had never been able to forgive or forget. That rape was the real reason she started using and selling crack, and ended up doing a five-year bid at Clinton. Even though she had been attending counseling sessions while locked up, Jaz could tell her sister was still hurting. Jaz prayed that her sister would be able to heal, for the sake of her kids.
Jaz had just spent the day with Micki and her kids, and she was exhausted. Those kids were enough to wear anybody out. It was past 11:00, so she took a quick shower and headed for bed. She had an early class in the morning.
A while later, Jaz thought she was still dreaming when she heard the familiar sound of Faheem’s keys hitting the glass table. Then she heard him say “Damn!” when he bumped into the TV, and she knew she was awake. She turned on the night lamp and looked at the clock. It said 2:47 A.M. but she didn’t care what time it was. She was so happy to see Faheem when he walked into the bedroom.
He had on a deep blue Armani suit, and his cologne lit up the room. She sat up in the bed and watched while he went to the closet and pulled out a box. He combed through it in silence. He put the box back in the closet and took off his navy blue Gators.
“Faheem, baby. How long do you plan on being mad at me?”
“Jaz. Not now.” He didn’t even look at her.
“Then when, Faheem?” He ignored her and began taking off his clothes, throwing everything on the chair. He got completely naked, fell on top of the covers and went to sleep. He was lying flat on his stomach, with the back of his head facing Jaz. She ran her eyes over his dark brown, naked body and thought about how much she missed him. She turned out the night lamp and snuggled up next to him.
“Faheem, I’m sorry,” she whispered as she kissed his neck. “I didn’t fuck him, and I’ll never hurt you again. I am so sorry.” She cried herself back to sleep. When she woke up later that morning, Faheem was already gone. She started crying again and called Angel.
“He didn’t smell like perfume?”
“Nope,” Jaz said, sniffling.
“Damn. Dayum! He played you like that? He got butt naked and just went to sleep? He didn’t even cover up?”
“Nope.” Still sniffling.
“Dayum! He wanted you to see what you’ve been missing. You didn’t even get a kiss? No conversation? Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Why didn’t you just take it?”
“He was sleep, Angel. Plus, he’s still pissed.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. What are you gonna do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what he wants me to do. He’s stressing me the fuck out. He’s treating me like I fucked the nigga when I didn’t.”
“No, not really,” Angel said. “I told you, if he thought you fucked Smooth, he would’ve put your ass out of his house, took the car and closed your bank account. Didn’t he open a bank account for you?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?”
“Jaz, please stop crying. Concentrate on finishing up this semester. He’ll come around eventually. Wait it out. Plus, remember you the one had that nigga all up in his house. You should’ve gotten a nerd to help you out, but you had to go get a fine-ass ballplayer with loot! You was wrong for that. That was a crackhead move.”
“Fuck you, Angel.”
“You want the truth, don’t you? And stop crying! You gettin’ me depressed. At least he came home. You ain’t all the way in the doghouse.”
“What if he’s seeing somebody else?”
“I doubt it. You got that nigga sprung. Look how he actin’! Snap out of it and keep busy. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Now go take your dumb ass to class.”
Chapter 26
I can’t believe that it’s close to a month now since Faheem has been giving me the silent treatment. I have to say, though, I’ve been handling it much better. After he did that shit that night he came by and wouldn’t touch me, I’ve been keeping my head buried in the books. The only time I do something other than study is to see my nieces and nephews or to make my Monday and Thursday runs with Brett. But even that’s gonna change soon. Those chemicals are starting to make me sick. I told Brett again that at the end of this semester, I’m out.
It’s Thursday. My stomach is cramping but nothing is coming down. No period. I’ve been stressing too much. I’m tired and irritable. When class is over, I would love to go home and crawl under the covers. Plus, it’s pouring down rain. But happy-ass surfer dude Brett said he’ll meet me out front. What can I say? A deal’s a deal. I reiterate to him that after this semester, the chef is hanging up her apron. He’s going to have to find someone else. I got a nice stash. Don’t be greedy and you won’t get swallowed up. Plus, I’ve been lucky that Faheem hasn’t found out about this.
I only did this as long as I have because I have big plans. My mom and dad want to move back to Alabama with their family. I don’t blame them. For their 30th anniversary, I’m going to surprise them with a house down there. Pack ’em up and ship ’em out. They need to get away from all this madness up here. Go someplace where they can retire and die in peace. Leave the house and its problems to all them folks living in it.
Anyway, now I’m talking to all you hustlers. You know how it feels when you out there doing the shit you do to get paid and you get this gut feeling that something ain’t right? You can’t put your finger on it, but you feel funny and you nix it. Tell yourself it’s paranoia. That’s how I feel today. Me and Brett are headed toward PA. The scenery is nice and relaxing but he’s blastin’ a fuckin’ Limp Bizkit CD. I would rather listen to what I got—the blues.
We finally pull up to this house with what seems like a two-mile driveway. I grab my change of clothes and we go inside. We’re only inside about thirty minutes and I hear cars rolling up.
“Yo, Brett! You expectin’ somebody?” He pulls off his rubber gloves, looks out the window and screams, “Oh, shit! It’s a fuckin’ raid! Dump this shit!”
So we r
unning around pouring, dumping, and flushing shit down the toilet. Them motherfuckers are bangin’ on the doors. They got the house surrounded. You know how they roll. FBI, ATF, DEA, local police, sheriff’s office, and if the fire department can squeeze in, they’ll join the party, too. They break the door in, screaming, hollering, cussing at us, telling us to lie face-down on the floor, hands behind our backs and don’t fuckin’ move or they’ll blow our brains out. Then they’re taking me away. This is why I was feeling so weird all day. I should have took my ass home. Playing the game, you never know when, but it’s always when you least expect it.
We pull up to a jail in Pennsylvania. I don’t know which one it is. For whatever reason, I’m not welcome, and now we’re headed to the funky-ass Mercer County Jail in downtown Trenton. I’m disappointed, because at least the Pennsylvania jail looked clean. Mercer County Jail, that’s another story. The building looks nice on the outside, but on the inside it looks like something from another century. The jail part, anyhow.
By the time they get me processed, it’s almost 2 A.M. They won’t let me use the phone. They hand me a raggedy jean-like nightgown and lock me in my cell. I can’t believe this shit!
“Taylor! Get up if you need any medication. The pill cart is here. Taylor!” This person is shaking the bars now. Damn. I was hoping that this was a nightmare. “You missed breakfast. It’s served at 6:30,” she says as she lets me out of my cell.
“What time is it?” I ask this lady in a uniform with a gigantic butt and ran-over shoes.
“Clock’s on the wall,” she says and keeps on going. Damn. It’s 9:45 A.M.
“Can I use the phone? I didn’t get my one phone call.”
“Phone’s over there!”
“Excuse me, can I get a washcloth, soap and a toothbrush?” The bitch just keeps right on walking.