Chapter 4
Walk on Home
We’re in line at the Burger King drive-through in Philly’s car. I’ve already ordered my four bacon double cheeseburgers. Philly is still making up his mind and LaShonda only wanted a Hershey pie.
“I can’t believe you talked me into this, man,” Philly’s dark eyes flash over to me before he turns back to the drive-through speaker, “Yeah give me three chicken Whoppers and a large Coke.”
“I think it’s a good idea she comes along,” I tell him for about the fifth time during this ride, “She’s got charm. Charisma. Plus, she can keep them distracted looking at her. That way they can’t think straight and end up giving us a better deal than they meant to.”
Philly adjusts his Mariners’ ball cap, socking it down tighter, “Whatever, man. I still say it’s stupid.”
“Will you shut the hell up, boy?” LaShonda’s using that high-pitched tone again and it collides with the effects of the joint I smoked before we left.
Philly turns so he can look back between the seats at her, “Boy? You don’t call me boy, I’m a man, nina!”
“Nina? Don’t pull that Spanish shit on me, boy!” she emphasizes ‘boy’ the way an angry teenage girl would. “The whole ride you’re bitch, bitch, bitching about Percy bringing me along so I can help you guys out.”
Even though he wasn’t raised in a Spanish speaking household and is nowhere near fluent in Espanol, Philly likes to toss out the Spanish words when he gets riled up.
He glares at me, wanting me to get involved then his smoldering eyes lock on LaShonda, “No more calling me boy, LaShonda. You’ve got to respect my status, right Perce?”
“Yeah,” I roll my eyes, “Pull forward to the window, man.”
He whips his head around and sees we’re next in line, “Right,” he says with more than a touch of resentment before pressing the gas pedal. We get to the window and both Philly and I notice the girl taking our money is one fine looking chick. Thick, auburn hair done up in a ponytail, clear green eyes and well-endowed in the chest. Our natural reaction is a low whistle and as he turns to me a look of understanding passes between us.
“What?” LaShonda wants to know, “You’re whistling at that?”
“Hell yeah!” Philly tells her excitedly, “I’d rather have her than those Chicken Whoppers. Damn!”
“Oh my god!” LaShonda is talking way too loudly and that girl can probably hear her. “You want me to get you some Kibbles ‘n Bits, Philly? You got a thing for dogs? She probably plays a great game of fetch, too!”
The girl must’ve heard at least some of that because she blushes, glancing back at LaShonda as she hands the food over to Philly who’s trying to apologize quietly.
“Don’t you apologize for me, boy!” LaShonda starts rolling down her window. “I can have my fucking opinion if I want to. Dog-ass ugly bitch can’t do a damned thing about it on company time, huh?”
I’ve heard enough. LaShonda wanted me to bring her along because she had nothing to do today. Promised me she’d act nice and be my little status symbol for the meeting at the Brass Jaw. Post-orgasmic decisions aren’t always the best, especially if they happen after you’ve had a fat joint. Clearly this decision was a mistake. I unbuckle my seatbelt, open the door and walk back to her door.
“Percy? Baby?” she’s giving me those big puppy dog eyes a little too late in the game, “You know I was just playing.”
“Get out,” I instruct her, holding her door open as the elderly couple in car behind us watch nervously.
“Oh, come on,” there’s a honey-sweet tone to her voice, “Can’t a girl get a little jealous?”
“That was fucked up!” Philly scowls at her, “Do like Perce says, get outta my fucking car, bitch!”
LaShonda’s smile melts into shock, “You can’t be serious. How am I gonna get home?”
“Out,” there’s frost forming on the words as I speak them, “Now. That or I drag you out.”
She’s silent as she steps out clutching her purse, watching my face closely. I show no emotion. If we were in Kingfin territory when she pulled this stunt I’d have yanked her out myself, but this part of the city employs plenty of police and no one knows me here so it’d be foolish to slap her around. Especially with all the people in their cars behind us taking in the show. Some teenage emo-looking kids in a Volvo two cars back blast their horn. I give them the finger without looking in their direction, then I swing my arm around to where my middle finger is in LaShonda’s face. Her mouth drops open, she shakes her head and starts walking as I slam the passenger door behind her.
“I apologize for that bullshit she said about you,” I tell the girl at the window who’s watched the entire drama unfold, “She’s only angry because she doesn’t have your looks, girl.”
The girl nods, blushing and mumbling some sort of thanks. Though she’s now quite a distance from me, I hear LaShonda muttering the ‘fuck you’ she wouldn’t dare say to my face. Doesn’t matter, she’ll call me tonight, I’m sure.
Author’s Note: Next chapter goes up on November 19th, 2009
Chapter 3
Not Much to Love About Mornings
4:17pm the clock reads. A wave of belligerence washes over me. Afroman is singing about how he was going to do something, but then he got high. That’s the ringtone on my cell right now because I got tired of Ludacris after a few months. My desire to be awake right now is at an all-time low. Sure, I got six hours of sleep, but I still don’t feel like moving. I check the caller ID so I know who it is. I answer as groggily and pissed-off sounding as I can.
“Shit, nigga,” Philly asks, “Did I wake you up again?”
“You did,” I snarl, “And you called me ‘nigga’ again, too. You know I hate that.”
“Sorry, man,” he is sorry, but he’ll do it again because old habits die hard. “Listen, though, we got more trouble. Knuckleheads showed up at the park again. Didn’t rough anybody up this time, but they gave us a message through Cheeky and Quill.”
“The fuck were those two doing down there?” I yawn.
“Watching over Benton,” his voice sounds like he’s wondering if he messed up. “You know, keeping our tags up and making sure there’s no more trouble.”
“Two people is never enough,” I warn him, “Especially when you know there’s potential for danger. What’s the matter with you? Anyway, what’s the message?”
“They want us to meet with ‘em at the Brass Jaw as soon as we can get there. Said they want to talk diplomacy.”
Okay, I’m now officially angry. Sitting up in bed I realize LaRonda or LaVonda or whoever the fuck was sleeping with me is gone. Bitch left the curtains wide open, too, which irritates me further. I hear the shower running, so I know that’s where she went not even bothering to wait for me.
“Diplomacy?” I yell, “Diplomacy? What the fuck do these Knuckleheads know about diplomacy? They come onto our turf, beat our dealers around and tag over our art and they want diplomacy? Fuck that!”
“I know, Perce, I know,” Philly’s calm tone isn’t helping me bring my temper down. “Thing is, MadBlack thinks the meeting is a good idea and told me to have you go talk to them. He said I should go along, too. He says it’s a lot better than starting a hot war with them and that we got more leverage this way.”
That little weasel! I know he conned MadBlack into saying that shit, but the thing is, once MadBlack gives an order like this there’s no way he’s going to back down on it. I’m stuck.
“Alright, Philly, you asshole, I know this was your idea, but whatever,” I sigh, “Where the hell is this Brass Jaw joint?”
“Man, it wasn’t my idea.” Liar. I can practically hear him wince as he tells me, “Out in Windale. Neutral territory, they’re saying.”
“God dammit!” I’m yelling again, “Windale, motherfucker? That’s way the fuck up town! And there’s no such thing as ‘neutral territory’, you know that!”
“I know, man,” he’s probably wishing someone else would’ve made this call for him. “I ain’t happy about it, either. But you’re a good talker. You can stop this war before it starts and maybe we’ll score some loot off those fuckers for not killing ‘em while we’re at it. They’re saying all they want is to use the park, not own it.”
“Well that’s awfully white of ‘em,” I scowl at the rain I can see through those damned open curtains. “Look here, Philly, since we have to go do this bullshit I want time to get ready. Need my shower, some breakfast and a joint. Where you at right now?”
“Downstairs in the living room.”
“Okay, get us a ride ready. And you’re gonna drive us, too.”
I hang up. Stretching out across the turquoise sheets, I savor my last few moments of peace before I have to get moving. My brain still feels a bit high from last night’s blunt. That Yukon Gold smoke will do it to you every time. I’m still not exactly sure when I went to sleep. The girl who kept me company isn’t Selachi, so that means there’s no chance I could get her pregnant. We’re only fertile with each other. That’s why she and I went at it so long last night. I must’ve had her in every way the Kama Sutra tells about. Freaky little thing, too. This thought reminds me that she’s still in the shower. Maybe if I hurry I can have her before breakfast. Nothing like a shower fuck to get the day started right. Plus, maybe she’ll have washed whatever nasty perfume she wore last night off of her.
“LaVonna!” I call through the bathroom door since she’s locked it on me, “Let me in, baby!”
The shower water stops. I hear the wet slap of feet on tile and the door’s lock turns. The door swings open and there she stands, holding one of my towels across her body.
“What?” her tone is ice cold. She makes each word into its own sentence. “The fuck did you just call me?”
“LaRonda.” Panic grips me, but I force it to hide behind my smile.
“Nobody in here named LaRonda,” her brown eyes drill me with a gaze I’m helpless to break. “Maybe you know a LaRonda. If so, then the next time you want someone to sleep with your inconsiderate ass, call her!”
She tries to slam the door on me, but I’m quick. I get my foot in there before it closes. My reflex forgot to take into account that I’m barefoot. This chick has some strength to her and I grit my teeth against the pain. She leans her weight against the door to keep me out.
“Sugar, you know it’s not like that!” I call to her. “I’m not good with names and it’s early!”
If I have to, I’ll break the damn door down. I’m getting my shower.
“To hell you are!” she shrieks, “Sure remembered it last night! Don’t you tell me it’s ‘early’, it’s four o’clock in the damned afternoon!”
“Nah, baby,” I’m holding the door off my foot, but not overpowering her. “I mean it’s early for me, you know? Nothing to be mad about. I remember your name, of course I do. You’re not a woman that’s easy to forget.”
She relaxes her press against the door a little, “Oh yeah?” her voice has a tricky feel to it. “Well go ahead and say my name, then. Prove it.”
I hesitate, struggling to remember and make myself sound at least half-confident. “Gorgeous is the name I remember you by, girl, because that’s the truth about you.”
The bitch actually chuckles at this, “That’s rich, Percy, real rich. Move your damned foot before I break it,” I start to protest as she continues to work on crushing my foot with the door. “It’s LaShonda, you fool!”
Enough of this. One night stands don’t require a person to remember a damn thing. I got her nice and high last night, let her sleep in my bed, use my shower and now she wants to pretend to be offended because I can’t remember the weird name her mother gave her. I slowly begin forcing the door open.
“LaShonda, baby girl,” I use my sweetest voice, “All this anger ain’t good for you. Let’s get in the shower and give me a chance to make things better between us. Fighting never solves things.”
“Shower with a guy that can’t remember my name?” she sounds furious again. “What kinda ho do you think I am?”
“Nah, girl,” I’ve almost squeezed myself inside the door. “We just need more time. Give me a chance to-”
She lets go of the door. That causes me to come stumbling in past her while the door slams against the inside wall. I regain my balance, turning to her. Something about girls just out of the shower drives me crazy. Maybe it’s my Selachi genes. Her straight black hair is still dripping down her back, which she has turned to me. Bending over she reaches for the towel she’d been holding. I snatch it away from her, giving her a playful slap on the ass.
“Don’t you touch me!” she screams, “Give me that fucking towel back!”
When she spins to face me her large breasts sway in such a way that not looking at them becomes a real challenge. Instead, I take all of her in. She told me last night that she’s half black and half Asian. Her face is what drew me to her. I’ve got a weakness for pretty faces. LaShonda’s face is a work of art: wide eyes, long lashes, high cheekbones, a delicate nose and pouty lips. The rest of her isn’t bad, either. Noticing my wandering gaze, she rushes to cover herself.
“Oh, no, no, no!” she glares at me hard. “Give me that towel so I can get outta here.”
“Come on, Gorgeous,” I notice she’s staring at my erection. “We can soap each other up, you know?”
Her skin is the color of coffee with heavy cream. I lick my lips, my eyes drifting down below her navel to the close-cut tuft of hair between her legs. Then she covers that, too.
“Towel!” she demands.
“Okay,” I agree since I’ve got a plan now. “Let’s get you dried off, then.”
I hold the towel open in front of me, stepping forward to wrap it around her then I pull her close to me. This startles her and she takes in her breath sharply. Leaning down, I kiss her. At first she’s tense, caught off guard, but it’s only seconds before she relaxes and returns the kiss. I didn’t think she was really mad at me. Soon the towel drops as our kisses get deeper and more heated. We’ve got our hands on each other. She’s stroking me with a slow, twisting grip and I’ve got two fingers inside her. Like a dream, she steps into the shower and pulls me in with her. The water runs over us as I slide up inside her.
Author’s note: The next chapter will be posted on November 16th, 2009.
