“A thug rockin’ Marvin Gaye,” she grinned at him.
“That’s the shit Tash. A thug needs and wants that one special woman. Somebody who belongs only to him, who got his back and is willing to go the distance with him. That one who he could be all open for.”
“A woman needs and wants that too Trae.”
“I didn’t say she didn’t.”
“Just making sure.” She turned toward him. “You got a bachelor’s degree. Why are you still out here putting your life and freedom on the line like this? I know you got enough money.”
“Got caught up Tash. Gotta chase that paper a little while longer.” He looked at her. “Take your hair down.” She didn’t move. “What, did I stutter? Take your hair down for me please.” She kept looking at him as she slowly unraveled her bun, letting her hair fall. He reached over and ran his fingers through it. “Damn, it’s soft and pretty. I didn’t think it was yours.” She felt her nipples tingle.
“First it was my breasts. Now it’s my hair. Is there anything else you’re curious about?”
“Your tongue ring, is it platinum?”
“Yup. What about your tongue ring? You don’t wear it all the time, do you?”
“Nah. Just when I want to use it and just enough to keep it from closing up.”
“Just when you want to use it. Okay then,” she mumbled, smiling to herself.
He looked at her. “Can I kiss you?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Trae you’re supposed to be driving. How are you gonna kiss and drive at the same time?”
“I’ma pull the fuck over.”
She smiled. “Nah Trae. Keep driving dawg.”
He laughed at her.
Once in New York, Trae handled his whip just like a New Yorker. He knew his way around. “Here we go,” he said, squeezing into a parking spot.
After helping her out of the Navigator, they went to Bergdorf Goodman, where he made her try on a beaded silk chiffon dress by Geri Gerard. It was tight, showed plenty of cleavage, and had a long slit up the left thigh, revealing her long, smooth, caramel-colored legs. It cost $2900. He also bought her some Gucci shoes and handbag, with jewelry to match. Her outfit came to almost five thousand dollars. They walked down the street, stopping at a jewelry store along the way. He replaced her platinum tongue ring with a diamond. His tailor was on the same block. As soon as he stepped inside, two salesmen approached him.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Macklin,” the tall one with the long ponytail said.
“What’s up, Anthony?”
“What can we do for you today?”
He gave him Tasha’s dress. “I want to match her.”
“No problem, Mr. Macklin. Right this way.”
He ended up letting Tasha choose some dark brown, silk and sharkskin material. The salespeople were pleased with her choice. He dropped four G’s for his suit, shirt and tie, and another fifteen hundred for some gators. They went to a cafe on the same block and ate lunch while his clothes were being made. Once they had their outfits they put the bags in the back of the Navigator and headed for his apartment.
“How do you like living on Park Avenue?”
“It’s a’ight, when I’m there. I ain’t never had no problems.”
They pulled into the underground parking lot, got his bags out of the trunk, and headed for the building. He stopped at his mailbox before they stepped into the elevator.
“Trae, your apartment is nice for a male,” Tasha said, walking through the three bedroom apartment.
“What was you expecting, Tash?”
“I don’t know,” she said, fiddling with the exercise equipment. “So this explains why you’re so cut up and defined,” she teased.
“I’m hardly here. I usually sleep here three or four times a week. I mostly drop in, shower, change, and I’m out.”
“Who keeps it clean?” she asked, looking in the refrigerator. “The building has maid service.”
When she came out the kitchen he was taking his bags to the bedroom. The phone rang.
“Tash! Pick that up for me.”
“Sure.” Surprise evident in her voice.
“Hello,” Tasha said. “Hello,” she said again.
“Is Trae there? This is Monique.”
“Hold on.”
“Trae, telephone,” Tasha hollered.
“Who is it?”
“Monique.”
“Take a message.”
She pretended she didn’t hear him. “This is Tasha. He said he’ll be right here.” She wanted to see what was up.
“Trae telephone!” she hollered.
“I asked you to take a message Tash.”
“She said she needed to speak to you.”
“That’s bullshit Tash, and you know it.” He picked up the phone.
“What is it?” he snapped. He saw that Tasha was leaving the living room.
“Tash come here! You ain’t gotta leave out. She ain’t nobody. Come here.”
When she walked back over to him he pressed the speakerphone button. He grabbed her and pulled her close.
“It’s all about you. Well, I’m trying like hell to make it all about you if you’d let me,” he said, kissing her neck.
“Monique what is it you want?” he hollered at the speakerphone. He kissed Tasha again.
“You could at least return my pages Trae.” Then realizing the obvious she screeched, “I know you don’t have me on no damn speakerphone!”
“Monique you got thirty seconds to tell me why you calling my house.”
“I was calling to see if you was going to see Jill Scott and Musiq. I want to go,” she whined.
“Monique I ain’t fuckin’ you. You ain’t got it like that no more.”
He turned his attention back to Tash.
“Spend the night with me.”
“I don’t think so Trae.”
“Why not?”
“I need to go home.”
“Trae!” Monique hollered.
“Your thirty seconds are up.”
“Fuck you Trae!” she spat, slamming the phone down.
He turned the speakerphone off. “I know that was a setup, telling me to come to the phone.”
“What?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he said, caressing her butt.
“C’mon Tash. Spend the night,” he pleaded. He wanted to hit it in the worst way. She was extremely sexy to him.
“I think you’re moving a little too fast.”
“If you knew how long I’ve been waiting to get this close to you, you would understand.”
“Maybe another time Trae. I need to get home,” she pleaded.
“No, you don’t. Let’s go clubbin’. I’m taking the day off and I want to keep you with me.”
“What am I going to wear? I know you don’t expect me to wear this,” she said, pointing to her jeans.
“Come on ma. You know we can go buy something to wear.”
“Okay. Let’s go.” She was glad for an excuse to get out of his apartment before things got too heated too fast.
They went to Saks Fifth Avenue. She chose a short Chanel skirt, blouse, shoes, underwear and perfume. Trae bought himself a shirt that Tasha picked out. They then went back to Trae’s apartment to eat, shower and change. Tasha fried some chicken, baked a couple of potatoes and made a salad.
Later that evening they hit the reggae clubs on Jamaica Avenue in Queens. It wasn’t until 2:30 that they headed back to New Jersey.
Tasha reclined her seat all the way back and stretched out. “Trae I hate to admit it, but I enjoyed my day. I’m gonna sleep so good. You woke me up at 8:30. In another five hours we would have been up for twenty-four.”
“We did have fun, didn’t we?”
“Let me hear WBLS.”
Trae turned the radio to WBLS and reached for his cell phone and two-way pager to turn them on. Two minutes later, they were both going off. Tash sat up in her seat when she heard Snoop’s beat pumpin’. “Turn that up, Trae!” They both started bouncing and rapping like they had an audience. “For the haters who be talkin’ loud, runnin’ his lips, trying to dis. He better lay low! For the girl who was saying I just broke her off then left, now she pissed! She better lay low. For the buster who be claimin’ my hood but really ain’t from my gang, better lay low! I hope you don’t be thinking I be just talkin’, runnin’ my lips and won’t do a thang. Really hope so!” They both burst out laughing.
“Dayum, let me find out I got a gangsta broad,” Trae joked.
“You ain’t know?” she laughed. “I can’t help it when Snoop come on. All of his shit be bangin’ him and Nate Dogg.”
Trae just looked at her and smiled. “Looks like you’re gonna be full of surprises.”
“Listen who’s talking! You’re the one full of surprises. That stunt you pulled in my kitchen!”
“Did it surprise you?”
“Pretty much, yeah!”
“I got two extra tickets to the show. You know somebody who might want them?” Trae asked her.
Tasha thought about it. “Faheem and Jaz might want them.” She looked at the clock. “It’s Friday. Jaz is up, I’m sure. Let me call her.” She grabbed her Gucci bag and pulled out her cell.
“When you get her, let me holla at Faheem,” Trae told her.
Tasha’s mouth dropped open. “How do you know what Jaz I’m calling? And you know Faheem like that to want to talk to him?” She knew the hustlers all traveled in the same circles basically. But damn! This was a little too close to home.
“Ma, go ’head with that. You know who I am.” Just then Faheem came on the line. “Faheem? This is Roz.”
“You sayin’ my name as if some other nigga could be answering this phone. And I know your voice. Do you know what time it is?” Faheem scolded.
“Why you gotta get slick out the mouth? I’m just surprised you’re home. I thought Jaz would be the one answering the phone.”
“Girl, it is four in the morning and Ma is asleep, where you should be, where are you?”
“You’re being a little too nosy Faheem,” she teased.
“Girl you better stop playing and tell me why your ass in the street at four in the morning!”
“Okay daddy, calm down. I’m with Trae.”
She held her breath anticipating his response. She figured that she might as well tell him herself before someone else told him. He was quiet. Since he wasn’t responding she needed to feel him out. “Trae has two extra tickets to see Musiq and Jill Scott tomorrow night. You want them?”
“Put that nigga on the phone,” he commanded.
“Yeah he wants to speak to you.” She tried to play it off then handed Trae the phone.
“Heem, what up nigga?”
“Shit, I can’t call it.” Faheem humbly stated.
“Shit nigga! I can’t tell. You got the best hand. I’m trying to get where you at. As a matter of fact, I’m working overtime trying to be like you. Get the fuck out before it’s too late.”
“Yeah man, that’s what’s up. And that shit is real serious. So where you at?”
“Almost there. I can taste it.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“Word on the streets is, you even turned in your playa’s card!”
“Let a nigga find out you hatin’!” Faheem joked.
“Nah. Never that. Because that shit do get old after a while.”
“Yeah. Especially if you got a baby on the way. From there it’s all about family.”
“A baby? Damn dawg if I had it like you I’d be home, chillin’ and making babies too. I plan on being not too far behind you.”
“Yo, so what’s up? I hear that you and Kay are the people to see. You sure you ready to give all that up?” Faheem quizzed.
“On my life.”
“What’s up with Nikayah?”
“That nigga said it look like he’s gonna win his appeal. But until then it’s business as usual.”
“I see. So what’s up with my lil sister?”
“It’s all love Faheem. I got her.”
“A’ight nigga. That’s family right there. How you treat her is how you treat me. Treat her right or don’t even fuck with her.”
“I hear you nigga. I got her.”
“A’ight then.”
Trae handed Tasha the phone. He listened as she let out a few laughs before hanging up.
“You want them to ride with us?” he asked.
“Do you?”
“Not really,” Trae said.
“They’ll probably go by limo anyway.”
“How do you want to go? Limo? Helicopter? What?”
Tasha started laughing. “Thanks Trae but I’d rather push the Nav. I’m ready to drive it. It’s making my Beamer feel like a Volkswagen.”
“You can drive it,” he said, staring at her.
“Why are you staring?”
“Tell me why you’ve been shutting me out for the last couple of months. I’ve been feeling you and I know you’ve been feeling me. So what’s up?”
“I knew this conversation was coming.”
“I’m sure you did. So what’s up?”
“It’s only been a few months since I’ve stopped fuckin’ your partna, remember? I’m having a big problem walking away from five years and then going straight to boning his partna the next day. That shit don’t seem right to me. I mean, damn, let the fucking sheets cool off. Plus, I can’t do any more jail visits, and I definitely don’t want to go to any funerals. Getting involved with a hustler, I’m staring all of that in the face. So that’s what really has me putting on my brakes with you. It’s not personal.”
“Sounds personal to me. But check it Tasha, it’s been, what, four months since you’ve been with Nikayah. Shit, the sheets got ice on them. Second of all, I ain’t gonna be out here much longer. I’m wrappin’ this shit up. And me and Nikayah, it’s just business. So now what?”
She sat in silence for a while before asking, “What do you mean ‘now what’? What do you want from me?”
“I want you all of you. I don’t want to just kick it. I don’t want just a piece of you. I don’t just want to fuck. I want all of you.”
Tasha sighed while pulling at her hair. Emotions a melting
pot. Fear. Skepticism. Lust. Desire. Finally she said “been there,
done that, and never again. I already gave up all of me.” “With the wrong nigga Tash.”
“How do I know you’re the right one?”
“Give me a chance Tash, and you’ll find out.”
“A chance? I don’t want to take a chance on you, Trae. What? You want me to roll the dice and maybe I’ll be happy or maybe I’ll get hurt? I don’t think so.”
“Oh, okay. Now we gettin’ somewhere. So let me make sure I’m hearin’ you right. It ain’t Nikayah. You can tolerate me hustling. But you’re worryin’ about me hurtin’ you?”
She turned her head and looked out the window in silence for the rest of the ride home. Trae threw on Marvin Gaye’s I Want You CD and lit a blunt with a smirk pinned to his face.
After an hour they pulled up in front of Tash’s three-family house. She lived on the 3rd floor. Trae got out and went around to the passenger’s side to help her out the car then hugged her. “Tash believe me. I would never hurt you or leave you. Don’t be scared of me. I just want to love you and make you happy. Give me a chance. You know this feels right. Why do I have to beg?” he whispered in her ear.