“Before I drive off and we go to the movies, let me make one thing you said clear. The term âwomen like you' could possibly mean you're referring to my profession, right? Let me just say that you have no idea where I come from, and you don't know why I must do what I do. Life probably dealt you a shitty hand, just like me, so don't you dare sit there and attempt to judge me for making tough decisions to better myself. You haven't a clue how much courage it takes to be a stripper and pretend that every fucking thing around me is all good. I put up with hella shit from niggas, and instead of walking around, like you, with a goddamn frown on my face all day, I bite my tongue and deal with the choices I made. You may not like them, but here's the truth and only the truth. I don't give a fuck, and I'ma keep on smiling each and every time niggas like you think it's okay to belittle me and make me feel as if I'm not good enough. Maybe not for Mr. Bones, but definitely for someone else more deserving.”
I guess I told him. It was his turn to take the mic. To no surprise, he shrugged and pointed straight-ahead. “The movie theater is that way. Are we going or not?”
Don't ask me why I drove to the movies with this nigga, but I did. I kept quiet, though, and didn't have much else to say. The only time I spoke was when we stood in line, debating what to go see.
“I don't care what we watch,” he said. “This is yo' bill, not mine.”
Since I offered to take him to the movies, I didn't mind paying. But he could at least pay for the popcorn and sodas. We stood in line to get some, and when the cashier told us the amount, Bones stood with his hands in his pockets. I paid for those items too, but in the end, the money Nate was going to give me would pay for everything. I was now considering executing the plan to put this fool to sleep.
I chose a boring, stupid-ass movie on purpose. I had hoped that no one else would join us in the theater, but as soon as the previews got started, two white couples came in. Bones and I sat in the far back. Nigga chomped on my popcorn as if he'd bought it. I removed my jacket, sipped from my soda, and scrolled through Facebook to see what was up.
“What's this movie about?” he asked.
“I honestly do not know, but I heard it was good.”
Bones passed me the popcorn, and then slumped down in his seat. We both had attitudes, and even though I said I wouldn't let what he'd said get underneath my skin, I did.
The movie got started, and we hadn't said two words to each other. I was bored out of my mind, and I kept hearing him release deep sighs. The actors in the movie were horrible, and the comedy they presented was so fucking corny. Maybe I should've opted for an action/ comedy movie with Kevin Hart in it. Since I hadn't, and this movie was so bad, I intended to ask for a refund when we left.
I scrolled through my Facebook page again, reading the comments and looking at pictures. That kept me busy . . . until Bones took the phone from my hand. He put it in his pocket, then lifted me up from my seat, and sat me on his lap. His hands massaged my legs, and when he inched over to my inner thighs, I closed them. After spewing his harsh words, I was in no mood to let this happen. But the feel of his hard dick pressing against my ass made me excited. His hand moved closer to my goodies, and as he slipped his finger inside of my silk thong, my legs fell apart. My mini stretched upward, and Bones lifted it to my waist. While putting on a condom, he rubbed his thick fingers along my hairless slit, making it moister by the second. The crotch section of my thong was soaking wet, but in an effort to get at me like he wanted to, he ripped my thong away from my skin. He lifted me to receive his dick and pushed one of his fingers into me at the same time. His thumb, however, turned speedy circles around my swollen clit. I wanted to scream, shout, holler . . . make some kind of noise, but I didn't want the people way in front of us to turn around. Instead, I muffled my lips and grinded hard to satisfy the tingling feeling between my legs that was increasing by the minute.
I was on-fucking-fire. His heavy breathing implied that something had been stirring up inside of him too. When he pulled down the top half of my mini, exposing my breasts, I slightly turned on his lap. He lowered his head, and I offered him a chunky portion of my right breast. His teeth lightly bit at my nipple, his thumb circled around my clit, his finger fucked me so well, and his dick was coated with my heavy cream.
Things got even better when he stood and bent me over the plush seat in front of us. With all of this man . . . a real man behind me displaying sexiness, braveness, strength, and creativeness, my heart pounded fast. A sticky mess was building between my legs, and they were straddled wide open as Bones hit that shit like he was digging for precious gold. He held on tight to my hips. My eyes fluttered, and I released soft moans that helped to relieve some of what I was feeling. I hadn't a clue how I was going to silence my orgasm, and sure enough, when it came, Bones reached around to my mouth, covering it with his hand.
Luckily for me, there was finally some action happening on the big screen. The volume was extremely loud. My body went limp, and I fell back on the seat with Bones. As a nice gesture, he used my thong to wipe the juices dripping from my pussy. He then straightened my minidress and held my waist as he placed me back in my seat to the left of him. I saw him remove the condom and drop it into the empty bucket of popcorn. After that, he relaxed back in the seat and stared ahead to watch the movie.
“Still bored?” he questioned.
I didn't hesitate to answer. “Yes. A little.”
“So am I. Take me home.”
Without saying another word, I got up and drove him back to his house. There was pure silence in the car, and before he made his exit, he spun around to face me.
“The next time you come see me, I want to have some of that so-called fun you mentioned. The direction you trying to move us in, I ain't feeling it.”
“And what direction is that?”
“I'll say this,” he said, then opened the door. “You know better than I do.”
He got out of the car and shut the door. I couldn't help but wonder if he knew what Nate and I had been up to. It was definitely time for me to wipe my hands clean. Something warned me inside that Bones wasn't the kind of nigga to fuck with. In addition to that, the tables were starting to turn on me. I was falling for him, instead of him falling for me.
BONES
I was on my fourth mission for Mango. He had been lining my pockets with a whole lot of paper. The nigga was more down-to-earth than I thought he would be, and over the past few weeks, I had already earned his respect. I handled my business, brought him back souvenirs, and collected my money. He shared a lot of information with me about the streets, the drug game, and spoke about many of the key players. He also mentioned shady niggas who were trying to get over on him. I was disappointed to hear him mention Nate and Theo's names. He referred to them as snakes and encouraged me to watch my back. While I already had some feelings about our friendship not being as tight as it had been before, I stressed to Mango that day that there was nothing or no one who would ever come between me and my boys.
“I used to feel the same way about my boys too,” he said. “But money changes people. And the more you make, niggas start to hate. They start to plot against you. I don't give a damn how long they've been in yo' corner. These bitches out here are snakes too. You definitely have to keep yo' eyes on them. They will use that hot oven to fuck wit' yo' head and suck you right in. Befo'e you know it, you'll get burnt and be all fucked up. I'm just telling you this straight from an old nigga who knows something. You're one of the brightest, most intelligent, and skillful niggas I know. It would trouble me to see you go up, then fall down.”
I listened and nodded, nodded and listened. Sometimes, it was best not to say anything. Just sit back and take it all in. He really couldn't tell me much about Theo or Nate that I didn't already know. And his advice about women wasn't really an eye-opener either. I knew all about the power of pussy. That was one of the reasons why Red would always be on the outside trying to get in. My instincts said she was trouble. I could feel it, each and every time we were together. There was something about her that gave me bad vibes. Then there was something about her that I kind of liked. I loved her natural beauty. I appreciated how real she was in the car with me that day. I suspected that my harsh words would pull something like that out of her. It was obvious that she had her struggles too. We all coped in different ways. But unless those vibes went away when I was around her, all she would ever be to me was a sex partner with no benefits.
The last time I'd seen Red, or permitted her to see me, was over three weeks ago. Sometime last week, she unexpectedly stopped by my crib. I went to the door, told her I was entertaining company, and demanded that she not pay me any further pop-up visits. After that, I hadn't heard from her. I avoided going to the strip club, because I didn't want to see her.
* * *
Like all of the others, that nigga Skittles didn't see me coming. He was caught completely off guard by my staggering blow that crushed the middle of his face. He had just left his bitch's apartment, and I'd caught up with him on the parking lot. While standing in the middle of the street, he wobbled. Was dazed. His nose was busted, most likely broken. Blood poured over his lips and dripped from his chin. I waited for that fool to drop to the ground, but before he did, somebody clocked me in the back of my head with something real hard. This time, I was the one dazed. Slightly. I tried to shake that shit off, but then I was smashed in the head again.
“Who in the hell are you?” the woman shouted, before striking me again. “Don't you dare punch my damn man in the face, you idiot!”
This bitch had hit me in the head with the pointed heel of her fucking shoe. It hurt like hell. I touched the back of my head, and when I looked at my fingers, I saw blood. Not much, but enough to make me want to beat her ass. I didn't know who to pivot to first. Finish off Skittles or deal with his woman who was in a rage. I seriously thought I could handle him first, but as I shook my head, again, to shake off the blows from her shoe, she kept charging me. She hopped on my back and started pounding on my head like she was holding a hammer. I flipped the bitch backward, causing her to hit the ground. Hard. That still didn't stop her. She charged at me again. This time, her face was met with my knuckles. I hated to go there with any woman, but this trick was throwing punches at me like she was Floyd “Money” Mayweather.
“Come on, nigga,” she said, still swinging her fists. “Is that all you got?”
By now, Skittles's ol' punk ass had broke out running. I damn sure didn't want him to get away, especially since Mango had already given me half of the money to take care of him. I hurried to settle my differences with his woman. In a matter of seconds, I tripped her to the ground and grabbed one of her legs. I hurried to look between them, making sure I saw a pussy, not a dick, because she seemed too strong. The pussy was definitely there, but in order to stop her in her tracks, I used much force to snap her ankle to the right, and then back to the left. It cracked and dangled in my hand. Hearing her shriek and whimper out loudly didn't bother me one bit. I had a bigger fish to fry.
Skittles had already hopped into his car, and trying to catch him, I ran fast to the only exit of the parking lot. I figured that he would try to run me over, and sure enough, he did. I heard the engine revving up, but as soon as he slammed on the accelerator, I dove for a big-ass brick that was in my sights and pitched it through the windshield. Glass shattered and scattered everywhere. The car jumped the curb and smashed into a streetlight. The horn sounded off while Skittles crawled out of the car with a deep gash on the left side of his forehead. He staggered forward with a 9 mm in his hand. It was cocked sideways and aimed at my head.
“You's a dead nigga,” he said, limping my way. His bitch was in the background yelling foul shit and screaming too. Several people had come outside to see what in the fuck was going on. Sirens could be heard from afar. I wasn't sure if I was going to catch a bullet in my front or in my back. What I figured was, I'd better get the fuck out of there, fast. Without going to my car, instead, I dashed across the street. I could hear the sound of bullets spraying the path behind me. I hurdled over some bushes and felt one of the bullets graze the side of my hand. I shook off the pain and flew through a side street that was my outlet to leaving the chaos erupting behind me in the wind. I was completely out of breath, and by the time I'd made it home, it was almost an hour and a half later. I hurried inside, locking the door behind me. As soon as I turned around, my grandmother stood near the kitchen's doorway with her arms folded.
“What's going on?” she said, looking at the dripping blood from my hand.
“Nothing. I hurt my hand, climbing over a fence.”
“Don't lie to me, Bones. I can always tell when you lying, and I hope and pray that you ain't out there doin' nothin' that you ain't got no business doin'. Those streets ain't nothin' to play with out there, and innocent people and children are gettin' killed every day.”
I wasn't in the mood for one of my grandmother's lectures. And instead of listening to her, I made a move to the bathroom and closed the door. I turned on the faucet and ran water over my hand. The graze wasn't as bad as I thought it was, but I had lost enough blood. I kept applying pressure. The blood started to slow down, so I poured peroxide over my hand, then wrapped it with gauze. I played doctor on the back of my head too, and if I ever saw that bitch again who hit me with that shoe, she would pay for making me bleed. My whole body was aching, so I popped four aspirin in my mouth, then left the bathroom. Yet again, my grandmother was waiting to lecture me.
“You'd better be careful, Bones. Let me see yo' hand,” she said.
“No.” I walked around her and headed toward my room. She followed behind me.
“Hang on to yo' secrets, but don't you ever bring any of that mess into my home. If you's out there doin' somethin' you ain't got no business doin', then I'ma have to ask you to leave here. I'm too old for this shit. You know good and doggone well that I'm too old to be worryin' about you.”
I stood in the doorway and released a deep sigh. “You don't have to worry about me. I promise you that I'm not out there doing anything wrong. I didn't want to show you my hand because I already wrapped it. But once I take this off, I'll show it to you then. Now, can I please get some rest? I worked overtime today. I'm tired.”
My grandmother didn't reply. The look on her face implied that she didn't believe me. She was too smart to believe the hype, and I knew it.
I kissed her cheek, then closed my bedroom door. After I plopped down on the bed, I reached for my phone to call Mango. I told him everything that had happened. Was surprised by his concern for my well-being.
“You did the right thang by gettin' the fuck out of there. That nigga probably wondering why you were trying to get after him. At this point, though, I recommend that you take him out. Leaving that kind of shit behind can get messy in the long run. It's up to you. Whatever you decide, I'm down with it and I got yo' back.”
Mango said he'd send somebody over to the apartment complex to get my car. And within the hour, it was parked in front of my house with the keys in the ignition. I wanted to holla at Nate and Theo about what had been going down, but then again, I was glad that they didn't know shit. They had inquired about the extra paper they'd seen me with, but I told them that I'd been doing several more floor stripping and waxing gigs that paid good money. I'd told my grandmother the same thing, but with her, I knew the only person I had been fooling was myself. It was just a matter of time when she caught on to my new profession, provided to me by a black man who would ultimately, one day, make me very wealthy.