Good Girls Ain't No Fun Boxed Set (The SIX romance and urban fiction volumes of the LOVE, SEX, LIES series)

by Jessica Watkins

  I looked at him like how dare he buy me and my friend’s love with a damn trip.

  Teasing him, Vic asked, “Where we goin’?”

  “I don’t know. Puerto Vallarta, Cozumel, Cancun maybe.”

  “Who payin’ for all this?”

  Star agreed with Vic, “Right, because I’m broke.”

  “And, since you on parole, you can’t leave the country, so I really wasn’t talking to you.”

  Even though I was pissed at Blood, I had to laugh at that. Even Star began to laugh along with us.

  “Fuck y’all,” she cursed as she stood up from the table. “Don’t ask me to babysit then either.”

  As Star left the table, Blood continued to sell us this trip. “Seriously, let’s go. In a few weeks. Ask Lyric and Marcel if they can come too. And you should bring your guy, Vic.”

  Vic fronted. “My guy, who?”

  “Buddy you been beau’d up with.”

  “Greg? I’ll think about it. But if you’re serious then I have to request the days off work.”

  I couldn’t help but huff and puff as I downed the rest of my drink. Then I growled, “A trip ain’t gone fix this shit.”

  Surprised at my outburst, Blood replied, “I never said it was!”

  And surprised at the fact that he had the balls to get loud, I got loud right back. “You gettin’ loud?!”

  There had to be a hundred guests at the party; me and Blood’s friends and family. Kids were everywhere; playing with balloons, running, jumping, and screaming. But the tequila had me in a real fuck it mood. I was ready to have it out with Blood again.

  “Don’t think that just because I haven’t left you that shit is okay.”

  “I never said it was.”

  Blood’s cockiness is what really blew me. It was like he knew what he did was wrong, but he also knew that there was nothing he could do to fix it, so he was cool with it and expecting me to be as well.

  We were staring each other down. I was looking at him in disgust, and he was looking at me like there was nothing he could do.

  “Tricey, I said I was sorry.”

  “Sorry ain’t gone fix this one, Blood!”

  “Well, tell me what’s gone fix it, because he here and there is nothing I can do about it.”

  I looked at Vic for help. I was wondering if I was confused or crazy for being so angry, because Blood was sitting there like I was being ridiculous for not accepting what he had done.

  Then he blew his breath like he was so fucking irritated, got up, and just walked away; knowing that I wouldn’t yell because I didn’t want everyone knowing what was going on.

  “Am I being crazy, Vic?”

  “Not at all,” she answered. “But what you need to realize is that he had time to deal with this, apparently. It’s fresh to you but it’s old to him.”

  “He’s known about this baby since this girl got pregnant and not once, not once, did he think to tell me.”

  Now that I knew, I was finally able to tell Vic the whole story. Last night, I finally calmed down enough to listen to Blood tell me the whole story of how this baby got here. Mauri’s mother is some bitch named Taleyi that he met in Texas while on a run with Lucky and Devin. This was back in September of 2010, after he was let out of jail and when he and I called ourselves trying to date to see if being more than friends would work. She was a buss down, so he claims; some chick that always hung around when they were in town because it was known that Blood had money. He only slept with her a few times, so he claims. When he found out that she was pregnant, he supposedly gave her money for an abortion. Then he stopped dealing with her because he and I got serious and, because Lucky started doing more runs on his own, Blood no longer needed to go to Texas as much. Nine months later, he gets a call from Lucky saying that this chick in Texas is claiming to have his kid. This was in June of 2011; while we were beefing about Amiel.

  He totally denies what I believe, that every time he goes to Texas, he is laying up with this bitch. I will never know the whole truth. It makes me want to spit when I think that, for the past year, I thought this man was perfect. I was persecuting myself for the bullshit that I was on, but here he was hiding a whole fucking family from me!

  I felt so fucking stupid.

  Vic looked at me and simply shook her head. The confusion and shock on her face was how I had been feeling for a week.

  “You need to relax and get away from the bullshit. Let’s go out tomorrow,” she suggested.

  “That’s cool,” I quickly agreed. “I need to get the fuck out of that house. Amiel is taking Ariana for the weekend for her birthday. Blood can watch his own fucking baby.”

  STAR

  After those rats stole my tips, I had to quickly think of another way to get money.

  I put a few ads on Craigslist offering private shows, which most men knew was code for escort services. I was scared as shit because it was totally illegal what I was doing, but I had experience. What got me in trouble in the past was murder. Fucking for money didn’t kill anybody, and it was what I was good at.

  During Ariana’s birthday party, someone answered one of my ads. Tricey promised to watch Jordan for a few hours. I got a room, with what little money I had, at some dirty ass motel on Cicero. The carpet was stained. The room was small, and it smelled like cigarettes. I thanked God that I took a shower before coming there, because I didn’t even wanna get in that tub.

  I just prayed that the call would go well so that I would be able to get my money back that the girls stole from me and get the money back that I spent on this room, with extra to spare.

  Again, I was nervous. I hadn’t tricked in a long time. Yet, this was better than being in a room full of aggressive men yelling obscenities at me as they barely tipped me, if they tipped me at all.

  I was in the mirror primping when a round of knocks started on the door. I walked slowly towards it in the same lingerie set that I wore last week at the show. I couldn’t even afford to purchase another outfit for the evening, so I prayed that the wash got the weed smell out of it.

  I opened the door and in walked a black man clearly old enough to be my father, maybe even my grandfather. I didn’t want to know which. His hair was balding. The hair that was left was grey and even white. His face and arms were even beginning to wrinkle, so it made me gag to imagine what else was wrinkled.

  Despite all of that, I smiled as I spoke to him, “Hey, baby,” and even hugged him.

  As he said hello and kissed me on the cheek, an aroma of strong cologne burned my nose and cigarette odor swam through my nose and down my throat.

  Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t bad looking. He was just old.

  I sat him down on the bed and lay my hand on his leg. As I began to rub it, I noticed that his dick was already hard.

  I giggled to myself as I imagined him taking Viagra before he got there. The way he looked at me was almost pathetic; like he hadn’t been this close to something so young, tender, and ready in a long time.

  “So, you just want a show, baby, or you want more?”

  I tried to not look at him like an old man and give the seduction that I needed to in order to make this money. Had he said that he just wanted a show and nothing more, I would have gladly taken that three hundred dollars and ran with it.

  Boldly, his hand met my leg. I felt the wrinkles on his fingers as his hand traveled up and down my thigh.

  The thought of his old ass on top of me made me throw up in my mouth, but, reluctantly, the price he was going to pay to penetrate me was going to soothe my stomach.

  As he continued to touch my legs with lust in his eyes, I informed him, “An extra hundred for oral and an extra hundred to fuck me, per hour. Six hundred for the whole night.”

  It hurt my heart to even say that pitiful ass amount, but I knew that I had to get my game up before I started charging thousands again.

  His hand slid further up my thigh until it was grazing my crotch. He seemed to salivate as he said, “I wan
t everything,” in an accent that only old men from the south have, no matter how long they’ve lived north.

  I started with the show, hoping that that would get him so excited that he would cum quick once we actually had sex. I sat him in a chair at the table. He’d brought a few beers with him that he drank as I danced. With the help of the radio and a slow jamz channel, I danced for him. For thirty minutes, I danced on his lap, allowed him to touch me all over, and even laid in the bed and played with myself as he watched.

  I felt so disgraceful. This was somebody’s grandfather, but I had gotten so desperate that I was willing to look past that.

  When he stood and began to walk towards the bed while unbuckling his belt, I quickly closed my eyes at the sight of the wrinkled and sagging skin on his thighs. I just kept my eyes closed and continued to play with myself.

  I felt his body weight on the bed as he climbed in. I could hear him opening a condom wrapper, so I knew that he was ready to get what he paid for.

  Soon I felt his dick against my face. I opened my mouth and prayed that I wouldn’t throw up. With my eyes closed, he was like every other man that I slept with for the sake of taking care of Jordan. It was a job, but even some jobs have conditions that are too much to deal with, no matter what it is paying.

  His fingers found my pussy while I kept my eyes closed and sucked his dick.

  “Stroke it,” he told me, and just hearing his old raspy voice made me want to cry.

  I grabbed it in order to stroke it and felt a massive bush of pubic hair. He probably hadn’t shaved in decades.

  As I sucked, he bent down and kissed my pussy. I cringed as I felt the hairs from his unshaved face pricking my skin. I gagged as I heard him breathing overtly hard; huffing and puffing into my pussy like he was so excited to be eating pussy. He ate it like a feen; gnawing and sucking it like his last meal.

  As he simultaneously stroked my face, I wished to God for this to go as quickly as possible. I swore to never tell a soul.

  Six

  Saturday, August 18, 2012

  Victoria

  “Are you still using?”

  I snickered at Dr. Peterson like she should know better. “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Why not?”

  “So you enjoy getting high?”

  “Isn’t that why people do it?”

  I was high as I was sitting there. The feeling of euphoria was all over me like skin.

  Dr. Peterson attempted to hide her disappointment, as she should as a therapist, but I saw it anyway.

  “It’s not like I’m on crack. I’m not on the pipe.”

  “You sound like an addict.” She was so direct. She no longer sounded like my therapist. She sounded more like a caring mother or friend. Yet, she tried to fix it. “As your therapist, I have to tell you what’s right. You should go to rehab.”

  “Rehab is for people that want to quit.”

  “Or people that have become so dependant that it’s affecting their lives.”

  “It’s not affecting my life.”

  “It’s affecting your pockets.”

  That it was. It was starting to get to the point that, though I picked up extra work at the boutique, I was still pinching pennies.

  “Anyway,” I said with an irritated sigh. “Can we talk about something else?”

  I was there to talk about things that were wrong. There was nothing wrong with me getting high, because it made me feel absolutely right.

  Dr. Peterson sighed in disappointment. She looked at my attitude in a scolding way, but was sure to be as professional as possible when she told me, “It’s your money and your hour; spend it however you want to, Victoria.”

  Tricey was looking for any reason to get out the house, so, even though we weren’t going out until later that evening, she met me at my house later that afternoon, after my therapy session and after she dropped Ariana off at Amiel’s.

  Currently I was in the bathroom doing a few lines. After a year of doing coke, I could admit that my body was definitely dependant on it. If I went too long without doing a few lines, I got anxious, I felt tired, I couldn’t concentrate, and sometimes I got chills.

  It was easy to deal with though because, like I told Dr. Peterson, at this point, I enjoyed being high. It wasn’t becoming a problem in my life. Yeah, it was draining my pockets a little, but as long as I had the energy to work an extra job, I was good. And coke gave me that energy!

  I finally felt like my life was together. I hadn’t felt the usual anxieties or depressions that I use to. I didn’t think about Jesse or the state of my family, or lack thereof, anymore.

  My only current issue was fighting with myself to find Tim or not, but I was willing to let time take its course on that one.

  I did the few lines and quickly left out of the bathroom. Tricey was still sitting on the couch cuddling with a cup of Don Julio.

  “You gone turn into a damn alcoholic,” I teased her.

  She rolled her eyes as she took another sip. “This is the only thing that I can do to keep sane.”

  I snickered as I compared being drunk to being high.

  There was no fucking comparison, if she only knew.

  “Do you know that fool really is planning this trip? He wants to go to Puerto Vallarta.”

  “When?”

  “In two weeks.”

  I damn near choked on my own salvia. “Tell Blood that everybody does not have it like he does that they can just up and leave the country in two weeks.”

  “Vic, please come. I can’t be alone with him in a foreign country. I might kill him. I can’t go to jail in a foreign country!”

  She continued to persuade me as I sat across from her on the other couch contemplating. “Hell, what is it that you need to do? He is buying your room and airfare. We can get clothes from the boutique. What else is it that you need?”

  “The days off and a baby sitter. Taij is really busy with his wedding plans, so I don’t know if he will have time.”

  That wasn’t my only issue. How was I going to get my supply on that plane was my main concern. I wouldn’t be able to go that many days without getting high. I wouldn’t even be able to enjoy my trip. Just the thought sent me into panic mode.

  LYRIC

  “So, what happened when you went to go see your father?”

  I damn near pissed my pants as the words left his lips. Marcel and I sat at the dining room table eating take out Chinese. He stared at me intensely as I attempted to nonchalantly continue to eat my fried rice like he hadn’t asked me a question.

  This was Daddy’s way of making sure that I had done what I was told. If he asked me do something and it was taking me too long, he didn’t ask if I’d done it, he just asked what happened when I did, because he expected it to be done.

  “Baby.”

  I looked him in the eyes. I loved him enough not to lie to him. “Yes?”

  “What happened when you went…”

  “I heard you.”

  He raised an eyebrow in surprise. I rarely argued with him; as a matter of fact, I don’t think I ever did. Yet, that’s because Daddies don’t put their Baby Girls into situations that they know will hurt them.

  Though Marcel felt like he was guiding me into a better relationship with my parents, he didn’t understand how being around them hurt me.

  “I didn’t go see him.”

  He was shocked that, after six months, I was being deliberately defiant and disobedient. I could see his failed attempts to hide the confusion of my rebellion.

  Before he could scold me, I spoke up. I went into little girl mode so that he could see the purity of my resentment. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to obey him. I just had no intentions on giving my parents another chance.

  I instantly began whining. “I hate them. They hurt me…”

  “So what! I know what they did. I know that they hurt you! But that man is in the hospital! In a few years, he’ll probably be dead, Lyric, and you’re going to
be so immature that you would just let your own father die without even going to see him?! If you’re like that with your own blood, what will you do to me?!”

  The mere insinuation brought me to tears. His yelling didn’t make it any better. He had never yelled at me. It crushed me to know that I had pissed him off so much that it brought him to treat me this way.

  “You don’t understand…”

  He cut off my tears. “I understand that it’s ignorant as hell for you to let that man die without seeing his daughter because you’re too fucking arrogant to go see him.”

  That sent so much pain through my heart. I looked at Marcel uncertainly, not knowing what had gotten into him. He wasn’t supposed to treat me this way. Even though he was teaching me a lesson of obedience, he was supposed to always be nurturing, loving, and enduring. He was supposed to always love and be patient with me.

  I stood and ran to my bedroom while crying like a twelve-year-old. Marcel was obsessed with me making things better with my parents, but I hated them so much and loved him so much more that I was more concerned that he now hated me. I was scared that his patience had run thin and he was tired of battling with me. I knew that, as my Daddy, he wanted nothing but the best and perfection from me, but in this situation, I couldn’t give him that.

  I was crying uncontrollably. It actually hurt me that I was hurting him. He was focused on my relationship with my parents when I was focused on my relationship with him. He was so right when every other emotional relationship in my life had turned out so wrong.

  Suddenly, I felt his hand on my back as I lay face down on the bed while crying hysterically into my pillow.

  I didn’t mind looking so weak and vulnerable in front of him. For the first time, it was okay for me to be feeble and fragile in front of a man because I didn’t have to be strong.

  That was Daddy’s job.

  “I don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

  I continued to cry and he continued to soothe me. “I didn’t mean to talk to you like that. I’m sorry. Daddy is so sorry.”

  Finally, I sat up. He saw my tears and seemed to sadden at the sight of my misery.