Trust in No Man

by Cash

  I kissed Cheryl and then rubbed her pot-belly.

  “Did you miss me, shawdy?”

  “Yeah. Boy, yo’ ass done got black! Dag.” Cheryl observed with her usual dinginess.

  Though she would sometimes surprise me with cleverness. She had a way of keeping a nigga off-balance like an Allen Iverson crossover.

  “Wanna see something?” Cheryl beamed.

  “Whud up?” She pulled down her T-shirt and exposed the top of her left breast. A tattoo read Youngblood’s Bitch in fancy writing. I just shook my head.

  I had been away from Atlanta for a little over a month, so after spending my first few days back with my shawdy, Cheryl and I hooked up with Lonnie and we cruised the hood in my truck. We blessed different spots with our presence, stopping to spit raps with niggaz I knew, avoiding those spots where Lonnie had enemies.

  Hos were all on my dick, they’re pussies getting wet just from seeing the televisions I had installed in the whip. One of the TVs was a seven-inch screen that was built in the passenger sun visor. The other television came down, by remote from the truck’s ceiling. It was a twelve-inch screen, with a Play Station II hooked up to it.

  We whipped through Englewood and grabbed a coupla’ rib dinners from the Ribs Lady. We didn’t hang down there long ‘cause po-po was rolling deep, fucking with all the dope boys.

  Blue was in the area and when he saw us, he flagged us down like his life depended on it. Blue looked bad. His eyes were like golf balls and his lips were white like powdered doughnuts. The nigga stank so bad I told him to back up from my whip! He stood back from my truck and talked to Lonnie.

  Blue bullshitted around for a minute or two, asking about Delina and his sons before he got to what he’d really waved us down for. Lonnie took a knot out his pocket and gave Blue five twenty dollar bills. He also handed Blue his rib dinner.

  Lonnie said, “Open the dinner and eat it right now.”

  “I’ma eat it later,” Blue conned, anxious to run off and buy some crack.

  “Naw, I wanna see you eat it now. Yo’ ass so little you could hide behind a broom.”

  Blue sat down on the curb and started grubbing. He didn’t have an appetite for nothing but crack, but he did as he was told. His junkie-ass was struggling to eat the ribs. I offered Blue an orange drink before his dry-mouth-ass choked to death. He hadn’t eaten but one rib and the orange drink was ghost. I was about to laugh when Blue bent over at the waist and vomited.

  I said, “Fool! You need to leave that crack alone!”

  “I’m trying, Youngblood, I’m trying,” he gasped as he wiped vomit from his powdered lips.

  Lonnie told him, “Get yo’ self together, man, and I’ll bring your sons to see you.”

  We jetted from Englewood and went to get some weed in Thomasville Heights, the PJs, a few minutes away. We copped some trees and then I drove through the drive thru at KFC so Lonnie could get some eats to replace the rib dinner he’d given to Blue.

  Lonnie knew that after we rolled a few blunts and got high, he would have the munchies. My nigga knew without being told that I wasn’t gon’ share my ribs with him. We could rob together, kill and die together, even fuck some hos together but when it came down to the Ribs Lady barbeque, I rolled mafuckin’ solo.

  At my crib getting high, I asked Lonnie why he be showing Blue so much love.

  Lonnie told me when he was in junior high school, he had put his hands on some dude his age. The next night, Lonnie was on his way back home from the store when the lil’ dude he had beaten up and two of the lil’ dudes’ older brothers chased Lonnie down and cornered him.

  It was dark out and Lonnie didn’t have a weapon to defend himself against a three-on-one. He was ‘bout to get banged up. That’s when Blue and Delina turned the corner, hand in hand, young lovers. Blue had peeped what the situation was immediately. He told the brothers they weren’t gonna gang-bang Lonnie, not unless they wanted to fight him, too. Then Delina pulled out a switchblade, down for her man, Blue. The older brothers backed off and made the younger fight Lonnie head-up.

  Lonnie spanked his ass again. Lonnie hadn’t never forgot that Blue done him a good deed, when Blue could’ve just walked on by. So now, Lonnie never just walked on by Blue.

  Though I was only away from the ATL a month, a lot of shit had happened in the lives of those connected to me directly and indirectly.

  Poochie sons had come back to live with her now that school was out for the summer and Poochie had months of drug-free living under her belt. She was still holding down a full time job and going to church on Sundays. She’d even joined a drug-recovery group.

  I was glad for Poochie but her sons living with her put a stop to my occasional sex life with her. But the boys moving back with Poochie wasn’t the sole reason our secret affair ended. Poochie had gotten herself together and was being more responsible and self-respecting, couple that with the church yelling religion in Poochie’s ear and holding sin and God’s judgment over her head, my rap just wasn’t strong enough.

  Poochie admitted that sex with me was good, but she was now convinced it was wrong. She told me she loved me in one breath and snatched away my keys to the pussy in the next.

  I wasn’t mad, though. In fact, I had to respect it. I had mad love for Poochie ‘cause she had always been on my side in the beefs I went through with her daughter. I let Poochie know that I would still continue to stop by and check on her and if she ever needed me, I was just a call away.

  “You can also page me if you get lonely at night,” I added half-joking.

  “Go on! Boy, you the devil,” but she smiled.

  I guess for a split-second she was remembering our fucking and sucking, wondering how the Lord was gonna put out the heat between her thighs those nights she wasn’t in church feeling the holy ghost.

  I knew when I left out of Poochie’s apartment that day that I would never rip those guts again. Damn! She was looking finer than Toni Braxton now. If Poochie could stop smoking crack, she could damn sho’ stop fucking me.

  I still had Cheryl for a steady fuck, and I enjoyed kickin’ it with shawdy. Cheryl was peace. Plus, I knew some hood rats who would come off the pussy just to ride in my whip. I had crazy phone numbers of bitches I hadn’t even called. I wasn’t trying to get with all them hos, though, ‘cause pussy had a way of fuckin’ up a nigga’ focus. Too many hos equaled too many problems.

  One day, Shan paged me and told me my son was crying for me. I hopped in the whip and jetted over there. Shotgun Pete was doing county time for violating his probation when he’d jumped on Shan.

  The probation violation was all they’d been able to pin on him, ‘cause Shan refused to cooperate with the D.A., who wanted to charge Shotgun Pete with felony domestic abuse or domestic violence, whatever the fuck they called it when a nigga chin-checked his bitch these days.

  I didn’t know for how long Pete would be in the county, but the streets were whispering that Shan’s legs had been open all-night, like a restaurant drive-thru, since Shotgun Pete had been in the county.

  It wasn’t any skin off my back. Shan was my son’s mama, but I wasn’t holding her down no more. Her ho-hoppin’ was her ugly-ass nigga’s problem.

  Word from the street had made its way inside the county jail and had Shotgun Pete ruffled, anxious to get out and beat Shan silly.

  It just wasn’t my biz, I didn’t know why people kept reporting Shan’s activities to me. As long as none of Shan’s trick niggaz didn’t harm Lil’ T, I was cooler than the other side of the pillow with whatever Shan did.

  I pulled up in the apartments where Shan lived and mad honeys were sweatin’ a young nigga’s profile. My whip was freshly washed and waxed, rims sparkling in the sun and Jay-Z booming from the system.

  As soon as my Timbs touched the ground, I felt bitches’ eyes caress me from the ground up. My baggy jeans were crisp and brand new, I was rockin’ a Fat Albert T-shirt, a blue studded bandana tied around my forehead, and I had just got a platinum
grill put in my mouth the day before.

  I smiled and the sun reflected off of my grill, blinding bitches. My neck and wrists were iced. I was a fly ass young nigga, braided up thug style.

  “Where Lil’ T at?” I asked Shan as soon as I stepped in the apartment.

  “He gone to the park with Mama and the kids.” I just noticed that Shan was pulling her T-shirt over her head. That left her with nothing on but a thong and a string bikini top.

  “I just wanted you to come over so we could make up. You look good with that grill in your mouth.” I ignored the compliment and Shan’s flesh. “Can we be friends?” Her tone was pleading.

  “We can’t be nothing but Lil’ T’s parents,” I said.

  Before I could back away, Shan’s hot body was pressed against mine and she was unbuckling my jeans. Her hands found what they were after and her lips sucked my chest through my T-shirt.

  I was thinking about all the dirty shit this bitch had done, all the drama she’d put me through: having a brat by Shotgun Pete and…

  She had me in her mouth. I was getting hard despite my dislike for the bitch. Her mouth sucked and her hands fondled my nuts. I grabbed the back of Shan’s head and tried to make her choke. She pulled back a little and started using her tongue. My knees got weak.

  Shan took me out of her mouth completely, but her hand took the place of her mouth. She began talking in a low, soft tone.

  “Baby, I know I messed up bad. But I still love you, and I wanna make it up to you. Not just like this, but in every way.” Her hand moved up and down my dick.

  “I’ll do anything you want me to do,” Shan continued. “I know you’re mad at me, Youngblood. You wanna cum in my face, treat me like a ho to punish me for messing up? I’ll do anything to get you back. I’ll sell pussy if you tell me to. Anything. Just as long as I can have you again.” Her mouth went back to work.

  I heard crying coming from her bedroom. Shan had to hear it, too, but she ignored it, that was until the baby’s crying got loud and persistent.

  “Let me go give her a bottle. She’ll go right back to sleep.” Shan stood up and pulled the string, releasing her bikini top. Two big titties promised me bliss. Then Shan wiggled out of the thong. She ignored the baby’s cries while my eyes feasted on sweet memories. “I’ma give you all of this when I get back. Don’t go nowhere. I’ll be right back,” Shan promised.

  As soon as she disappeared into the bedroom, I dipped.

  Five minutes later, my pager started blowin’ up. I saw that it was Shan so I ignored it. Fuck that bitch! She’d tried the oldest game in the book: give a nigga some pussy and he’ll forgive anything. Not Youngblood.

  I’m game-tight.

  I had no intention on fucking the bitch before her brat started crying. I was gonna bust in her mouth and then spit in her face. I knew the consequences would be me going through drama to see Lil’ T, but I could always scoop him from Poochie’s crib.

  Shan paged me for two hours straight, non-stop. As I whipped around the hood showing off my new grill, I let the rings mix in with the music coming out my sound system.

  A number I didn’t recognize showed on my pager. I was hoping it was this bitch I’d met at Wendy’s the other day. I stopped at a pay phone to see who it was.

  “Anybody there paged Youngblood?”

  A female’s voice said, “Is this Youngblood?”

  “Yeah. Who is this?”

  “Hold on.” I heard the phone being passed.

  “What?” I figured it out too late.

  Shan asked, “Why the fuck you play me like that!?” I slammed the phone on her desperate ass.

  The next day Cheryl, Lonnie, his lady, Delina, and me was chillin’ at my crib listening to the Outkast CD. We were high off weed and eating pizza. I told them about the stunt Shan had pulled to get me over to her crib and everything that had went down once I got there.

  I acted the scene out like a comedian. I didn’t put any cut on it. I repeated what Shan had said while sucking my dick, how she said it and all that. When I told the part when I dipped out her crib, Lonnie was crackin’ the fuck up. I was all over the floor, too. Delina was smiling, shaking her head like Lonnie and I were some silly niggaz

  But she busted a laugh, too.

  Cheryl said, “I bet she felt stupid when she came out the bedroom and yo’ ass was gone. Dag.”

  Delina hit the floor! Now she was laughing harder than Lonnie and me. Probably because of the way Cheryl had said it. Or maybe Delina thought Cheryl was too stupid to get mad at me for letting Shan slob my knob. But that wasn’t the way I read Cheryl.

  To me, Cheryl just didn’t trip the small stuff. She was born not giving a damn. Her dinginess was just youthful innocence. It kept mafuckaz off balance, even me.

  Cheryl looked at us laughing all over the floor, and she said, “What’s so funny? Dag.” We damn near laughed ourselves to death.

  After Lonnie and his lady bounced, me and Cheryl were hugged up on the couch, my head on her belly trying to feel the baby move.

  “It ain’t big enough yet,” Cheryl said, as if she’d had a child before.

  She asked me if I had wanted to fuck Shan after she’d sucked my dick. I told her, Hell no!

  Cheryl said she believed me and she didn’t blame me for dissin’ Shan, ‘cause Shan was lowdown for gettin’ with Shotgun Pete, knowing we were friends.

  “I would never do nothing like that,” Cheryl swore.

  “That’s what you say now. But if I went to prison ain’t no telling who you’d get with,” I insisted.

  “I wouldn’t get with none of yo’ friends, that’s for sure. That would be disrespecting myself.”

  Cheryl stayed the night with me. When I woke up in the morning she was pulling shit out of the freezer, looking for something to cook. I stopped her before she got to the chicken boxes where I kept my loot stashed.

  Instead, we dressed and went to Denny’s for some breakfast. Before we’d left the apartment complex, I had called Toi and asked her to meet me at there. I knew my mother’s husband had bought Toi a car by now.

  By the time Toi arrived at Denny’s, Cheryl and I had already been there twenty minutes. We hadn’t ordered yet, though. I introduced Cheryl to my sister and the three of us fell into easy conversation.

  Toi was surprised but happy to hear that she was about to become an aunt again. She commented that Cheryl didn’t look pregnant and asked Cheryl if she was hoping for a girl or a boy. Cheryl said that I already had a son, so a daughter was her choice, although a healthy baby of either sex was what she was praying to deliver.

  My sister filled me in on family gossip, telling me about out-of-town relatives I hadn’t seen in years and didn’t care if I never saw again. Toi stayed away from discussing our mama and Raymond at length, knowing I had no desire to hear about either of them. She also probably didn’t want Cheryl to hear my opinion of Mama.

  The love between me and my sister was quiet, but strong. Since Toi still lived at home with Mama and Raymond I didn’t call her or come around much. She had my pager number but didn’t use it often.

  But I believed Toi knew that if she ever needed me or just wanted to see her brother, I would be there in a heartbeat.

  My ill feelings toward Mama was something that kept wrinkles in my relationship with my sister. The few times she’d paged me, she would always try to play peacemaker and get me to talk to Mama on the phone. I’d threaten to hang up if Toi passed the phone to Mama.

  Now talking over breakfast, I could tell it was eating Toi up not to at least try again to get me to forgive Mama and accept Raymond.

  Cheryl’s presence protected me from that reoccurring plea by my sister. Toi was too proud to discuss family problems in front of outsiders.

  When our plates were clean, I paid the waitress, blessed her with a two-dollar tip, it wasn’t like Denny’s was high class. Then we dipped out of the restaurant shortly after Cheryl and Toi exchanged numbers.

  “I wanna name the ba
by if it’s a girl,” Toi said.

  “Okay. As long as you don’t try to name my baby no crazy shit I can’t even pronounce,” Cheryl told Toi, laughing like she could imagine Toi wanting to name the baby Ooga Mooga or something.

  I hugged my sister and watched her get into her Toyota Cressida and drive off. I dropped Cheryl off at her house and went to find something to get into. I knew Shan would still be in a foul mood over my dissin’ her, so going to get Lil’ T and kickin’ it with him wasn’t an option.

  Our son was the only tool Shan had to use against me, her only assurance that I’d eventually have to make peace with her. That was, if I wanted to see my son. The bitch knew I wouldn’t take her to court, and she knew I wouldn’t kick her ass for holding Lil’ T hostage away from me and risk going back to prison over some bullshit. So she was milking it dry.

  If push came to shove, I could always flip the script on Shan and act like the reason I wouldn’t get with her was because she be trippin’ when it came to letting me see my son. That would entice her into letting me see Lil’ T, at least until the scandalous bitch figured out I was just leading her on, and wasn’t no Youngblood dick in her future.

  But I despised Shan so much it would kill me to even let the skunk think I’d get back with her.

  Anyway, I still had Poochie. I could always scoop my lil’ man from her spot. The only wrinkle in that option was that Poochie worked evenings, the hours Shan usually took Lil’ T over there and hit the streets. I didn’t know who babysat for Shan when Poochie wasn’t available. As was the case right now, which meant that Lil’ T wasn’t at Poochie’s. So I dipped through Englewood to see what was poppin’.

  Besides the usual dope slangin’, bitch parade, little bad, dirty-ass kids ripping and running, and po-po cruising through trying to put a dent in the hood’s natural flow, wasn’t much happenin’.

  I drove up the hill to the basketball courts. Fools were ballin’ in mad heat, sweating like runaway slaves. I counted three pairs of Jordans, two pairs of Allen Iverson’s latest kicks and some other fly sneakers that had just hit the stores.