Unlocking it quickly, I gasped at how much cash laid neatly stacked and rubber banded. Besides him cheating and getting high as of late, there was never a reason for me to dip ’cause Mike Mike kept my pockets on full now, and all other needs met. This money was set aside for emergencies only, but since he’d personally sent me traveling in an ambulance more than once, my case was definitely considered a crisis. Transferring one stack at a time from the box to my book bag, I left nothing to spare for Mike Mike to flip into. He deserved nothing, but I wanted him to have even less.
Roxanne, a.k.a. Roxy
“Oooh, girl, that’s right. Tilt your head back and take that dick,” Mike Mike grunted as I kneeled in front of him at his mercy. I closed my eyes and allowed him to pump himself in and out of my eager mouth as tears gathered in the corner of my eyes. He was face fucking me at full force. I dared not move as he grabbed the back of my head, holding me firmly in place, introducing the tip of his dick to my tonsils.
“Yup, hold it . . . right there.” Not being able to drill any farther, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his body began to jerk.
Moving my long, blond weave to the side with my right hand holding it in place, I allowed my tongue to slide up and down his nut sac. Imitating what I’d seen in pornos, I sucked and slurped hard, praying I was better than Holy Sable. The struggle was real for me, and swallowing her man’s thick cream would put me one step closer to knocking her unworthy ass off the throne.
“Damn, ma, all right then, do that shit.”
A smile spread across Roxy’s face, and even though she didn’t get the type of explosion he’d got to experience, him just being in bed with her was satisfaction enough. Relationships weren’t Roxy’s strong suit, always having a dude run her into the ground. But Mike Mike had promised her the world once Sable’s time expired, and that day wasn’t coming soon enough for Roxanne. Dumb and naive, she really thought he was gonna save her ass from the pole he’d found her on. To him, this was just some late-night, after-the-club sex—nothing more, but everything less.
Roxy couldn’t resist the good loving she was getting from Mike Mike. He was giving her hard dick and bubble gum, fucking her raw and rough, and she was eating it up. The last thing on his mind was the fact she was best friends with his girl. The pills and liquor he was off of had his mind spent. “I’m about to get in the shower, but I’ll bring you a rag to wipe up with,” I winked, dragging myself up from my earlier stance.
“Cool, that’s what’s up, baby. Gon’ and get that body together. I might smash that in the shower. Give you an extra taste of daddy dick before I go.”
“Um, yeah, I’d like that a lot, but you don’t have to go,” I whined, wishing he’d stay the night. Feeling a thump between my legs, I badly needed his caress and touch. Nothing in this world was a lower feeling than being the second-runner-up in a two-man race. Who wants to be the girl in the background?
“Come on, now, Roxy. You know Sable’s been blowing up this phone, and I’ve gotta get back to the crib.” He deflated my optimism, waving his iPhone in my face.
“I don’t give a fuck about that pampered princess.” I rolled my eyes, throwing shade his way. “She can call that mug until the battery dies, for all I care. Just stay here.” Annoyed and ready to throw an all-out tantrum, I stood my ground and refused to budge.
“Aww, that’s cute. You’re jealous of your best friend,” he laughed, mocking me as he made fun of our situation. “You’re already fucking her dude, babe, so I think it’s safe to say you’ve already got one up on her. You ain’t gotta go get all territorial on a nigga,” he jokingly replied, reaching for the washcloth on the nightstand. Wiping the pussy juice and slob from his still-thick, throbbing penis, he eyed me and flexed it my way, hinting for some more attention.
“Fuck you, nigga. I’m serious. You keep acting like you’re going to leave Sable but ain’t making no moves. Keeping me on a leash ain’t gonna work no more, Mike Mike. It’s time to make a decision.” Even though I was madly in love with my best friend’s man, I still got jealous every time he dissed me for her and couldn’t take no more.
“Damn, Roxy, you’re tripping,” he yelled, reaching for his boxers and jeans. It was apparent Mike Mike was about to run back to Sable, leaving me high and dry, plus lonely.
“Oh naw, nigga, I’m not the one tripping. You’re the one running your ass over here every chance you get,” I honestly pointed out, refusing to look like the thirsty go-getter I was. We both knew the truth, and I’d checked for him nonstop since my girl first brought him around. Mike Mike slipped on his jeans, his hoodie, and grey Foam Nikes. His swag couldn’t be copied or imitated, one of the many things that attracted me to Mike Mike initially.
“You pumped your own head up, thinking I was about to leave her. I know I ain’t told you no shit like that. Me and her go way back ever to be talking about parting ways. That part is a wrap—period.” By this time, he was standing firm to walk out the door, and my animosity had grown. How dare he just finish a fuck-fest marathon with me only to shoot me down on something more intimate and tangible. Even though I was holding back tears of regret and self-pity, it was a must for me to hold on to the last drop of self-esteem left. Mike Mike had made me feel low. The few dollars he’d leave on the nightstand and shut-off notices he’d saved me from was nothing compared to this humiliation or broken friendship rules committed.
“You ain’t shit, Mike Mike. Gon’ and get your dog ass up out of here. The door is that-a-way, but you’ve been through that bitch enough,” I sarcastically got grim, pointing him in the direction out.
“Girl, you ain’t nothing but a bootleg version of my girl, so save that guilt trip you trying to run. Don’t be dumb, Roxy. You knew what this was about when I first hit that,” he laughed again, grabbing at his nuts. As much as I daydreamed and fantasized about cooking and swallowing his babies every night, he was making my feelings turn sour with every word. “And truth be told, if I did—it wouldn’t be for you,” he continuously belittled me, driving the knife deeper into my heart.
“Get the fuck out of my house, Mike Mike,” I screamed at the top of my lungs as the tears forced their way through the thin barricade. I let them flow down my puffy cheeks freely as realization set in. What we had going was just a jump-off type thing, and he never had any real intentions of leaving Sable for me. My run-down, subsidized apartment, snot-nosed kids, and needy-ass ways kept me from truly having him, and for that alone—spite ran through my veins. “You ain’t moving fast enough, nigga.” I stood my ground, now letting my anger overpower the weakness he had me feeling.
“Oh, you can trust I’m about to be up out of here.” He turned to bounce, not even caring about the tears and snot freely running down my face. “You can hit a nigga up once you get yourself together.” He turned to eye me up and down. Going into his pocket, he tossed a few bills onto the dresser as usual and made good on his word about leaving. My momma didn’t raise no fool, and I hadn’t swallowed his nut for nothing, so the money wasn’t a factor in this conversation.
“The only person I’ll be calling is Sable—to apologize for my part and rat on your trifling ass.” For some reason, I had to test Mike Mike by having the last word. It had been rumored he’d beat a female’s ass, but my girl had never shared a firsthand account of having gotten swung on, so I took the tales as fiction.
Turning around, he grabbed my throat and rushed me toward the wall. Holding me with purpose and an ice-cold stare in his eyes, I regretted running my mouth so recklessly. “I’ll kill your trick ass, Roxy, and you can trust that. The day Sable or anyone brings your snake ass up to me is the one your funeral planning will start.” Mike Mike’s threat seemed real, and at that moment, I was scared straight.
“O-o-k-ay,” I was able to mutter through his tightly clenched fingers around my fragile throat. With no choice but to agree, I had to deal with the reality of being nothing to a nigga once again.
Mike Mike let me go and left, not
caring about my sobs and begging for him to rethink the possibility of us. I felt like such a fool and looked even more pathetic. Hearing his ignition start and his tires burn rubber up the street away from my life, a full meltdown erupted. Kids in the back room or not, I couldn’t control the shame, guilt, and disgrace I felt.
Having to get my mind right and craft a plan, I sat down on the edge of the bed with a Kush blunt. Since Mike Mike was out of the picture, having him help with the next month’s rent was a no-go, so I didn’t have time to spare for recovery. Putting my weave into flexi rods and securing it tightly into a bonnet, I lit my blunt and let the smoke intoxicate my lungs and cloud my mind.
A new day was coming because I was getting tired of having men disrespect me and treat me like yesterday’s trash. Me having gone through this with the opposite sex my whole life, the entire dynamic of being a sidechick was, without doubt, played out. I had kids to worry about, but instead, my time had been devoted to Mike Mike’s trifling ass, hope-seller who did nothing but leave me alone to explain to my kids why another one bit the dust. From now on, it was about to be strictly my babies and me. No men and their dog-ass ways were allowed. There was no one to blame but myself. Stupid, dumb, naive-minded Roxy.
* * *
A short time later, the phone rang. Jumping up, I sprang across the room to answer it, desperately hoping it was Mike Mike calling to talk it out. No such luck, though.
“Hey, what’s up, girl?”
“Ugh, you don’t sound so excited to hear my voice.” Jazz annoyed me instantly. I didn’t want to take it out on her but now wasn’t the right time.
“It ain’t that, Jazz. The dude I’ve been telling you about just pissed me off and stormed out of here on some bad-boy shit,” I only half-confessed.
“Well, I hope you got your bread up for the trip ’cause the time has come.” She brought the conversation back to her once again since we were going for her birthday.
“Yeah yeah yeah. I’ve got my cash. You already know that’s a must. Anyway, let me get my gatherings straight, and I’ll be on my way.”
“All right, boo, I’ll see you in a few. Don’t fret. We’re going to paradise.” She was on ten about this vacation and had been for months. I tried not to be a hater and pop her bubble about the hype up she was giving Miami.
Don’t get me wrong; I loved my girls and was once loyal to the so-called team. But I’d outgrown that childhood “best friend” bullshit and was only out for me now.
Chapter Two
Sable
My bags were packed, my boarding pass, ticket, and identification card were secured, and I’d smoked all of the paraphernalia left in my stash. The only thing left to do was to lock up on my way out. As I looked around the bedroom we’ve shared many nights together, part of me wanted to unpack and give love another try. Before Mike Mike, my life had been living by a hustle, talking to this nigga and the next. I never saw him as being my man. I guess all we’d been through as kids made it one way. But thank God he saw it another and had rescued me from myself. Now, because of his weight and clout in the streets, I was living lavishly by hood standards. Looking around at the plasma television, showroom Art Van cherrywood furniture, and the photographs capturing our once-happy moments, it was evident, I had to admit, that I’d miss my man.
Damn, here the fuck he comes. The disruptive, half-raised Negro was rocking the neighborhood with his sounds blasting, headed to my doorstep. I got to the window in just enough time to see Mike Mike’s cocaine-white Infiniti truck burn rubber up the street and jump the curb, skidding across our front lawn. This man was crazy, no doubt. I stood frozen, staring discreetly out the blinds, careful not to rattle them and blow my cover. When he opened the door to climb out, I flew toward my bags. Heart racing, I dragged them quickly into the second bedroom. My timing couldn’t have been much worse, and playing the reminiscing game had me caught up, once again, with this alcoholic pill head.
Hearing his keys rattling at the doorway, I could almost smell the liquor in his system creep through the keyhole. Tossing my cell in my purse, I darted back up the hallway like a track star going for gold. Even though I couldn’t stop him from coming inside, no matter how hard I prayed, I still wasn’t going to meet Mike Mike and his guaranteed bullshit at the front door like some devoted puppy dog. From experience, I ran into the bathroom, locked the door, and turned the shower water on full blast. With my luck, he’d come in frisky, seeing me wet and naked. With my back planted against the flimsy white door, I slid my body down toward the floor as hot steam filled the air. My heart raced, and my adrenalin pumped as I waited for what was gonna happen after what came next. Hopefully, he wouldn’t find my luggage or his missing stash, because if so, my demise was inevitable.
Every time Mike Mike drank and popped pills, he’d become belligerent, turned up, and ready to beat my ass. He would argue with me over petty shit and start drama for no reason. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been yoked up, smacked down, and talked about by his ass. Either the dishes weren’t washed clean enough, dinner wasn’t seasoned as good as his punk-ass momma would’ve seasoned it, or he couldn’t see his reflection in the toilet bowl water while he stood to take a piss. I had been a fool for getting caught up loving the good times with Mike Mike when I should have been focusing on the more consistent moments like this.
“Yo, Sable, where you at, girl?” he shouted into the otherwise quiet house as if he had no home training.
As the hot water started to steam the room, I downed the last of my Moscato, setting the wineglass on the sink. Undressing, I eased my body under the hot flow of the water. Instantly, it felt so good, so relaxing, and it temporarily took control of my anxiety. I tried hard to drown out Mike Mike’s voice, but he was yelling . . . screaming at the top of his lungs. I was hoping the neighbors had called the police. Matter-of-fact, I wanted to call them myself. At least that would guarantee me a night free from him laying hands on me.
“Sable, get your scary ass out here. Hey, I need some face time, girl. I know you better be here. Where the hell you be’s at?”
Damn, did he know about the getaway? Have I been busted? Through the sounds of the pounding water, I could hear glass shattering across the marble floors. I assumed it was the vase and flowers he’d just given me as an apology for last week’s one-sided battle royal.
“Sable, don’t make me find you,” he bellowed, sending chills down my spine.
This is the drama you only see in movies. Why me? was all I could think as I put my head underneath the water, whispering a prayer for safety. I knew the routine. I knew things were about to get way worse before they got better. I wish it could go back to the old Sable and Mike Mike—when the gifts flowed in, no strings attached, and he’d flaunt me around town like a trophy. He was selling me a dream, getting me joked up, thinking I was “the one.”
“Hey, bitch, come out here and stop playing. I need you, girl, right damn now.”
My momma barely raised me, but what I did pick up on was not to run to trouble. If he wanted it with me, he was going to have to go through it to get me. I wasn’t about to run downstairs and meet his fist in the process.
“Are you in here?” Damn, my time has run out. “Sable,” he shook at the doorknob, causing it to rattle. “Why is a door locked in my house?—I told you about that bullshit. Now, open this motherfucker. Bring your ass out here,” Mike Mike shouted like he meant every word.
“Calm down before the neighbors call the police, Mike Mike. You see how you swerved up on the front yard and shit.” I stuck my head out of the shower, trying to reason with him.
“Okay, bitch, I’m done playing.”
“Mike Mike, wait. What the fuck?”
This lunatic was kicking the bathroom door in. I snatched back the shower curtain in just enough time to see the wooden frame splitting. My jaw dropped as splinters flew, scattering onto the damp floor. “I don’t care about no neighbors, you nothing-ass bitch. I’m about my respect.”
“Awe, now, look what you made me do,” he taunted, pushing the door, or what was left of it, open, walking inside the still-steamy bathroom. “Now, again, why is a door locked in my house?” Giving me fever, he stood breathing heavily with big beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
“To keep from fighting with you,” I sarcastically mumbled loud enough for him to hear. “But I guess that shit didn’t work, did it?” I reached over, turning the shower water off, hesitant to turn my back—and for a good reason. With malice, he yanked my hair from the rear, twisted it around his hand, and slung me down onto the cold, wet, and slippery porcelain floor.
“Aaah, shit,” I let out a high-pitched scream at the top of my lungs. It felt like he tore my scalp from my head. As I reached my hands up in an attempt to hold on to what little bit of hair I thought I had left, he forced my body to arch up automatically. My back was in excruciating pain as the splinters that littered the floor pricked my skin. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t speak. The small room was spinning.
“Again, I ask you, why is your sneaky ass up in my house with the doors locked? I warned you, now, didn’t I?” His breath reeked with a cross between weed and liquor. “You make me do this shit to you, ho. I can’t trust you. Who else up in here—up in my fucking house? Who, trick? Who?—And don’t lie.”
I opened my mouth to beg him to stop, but no words came out. While he cruelly slammed my head against the side of the vanity, there was nothing else I could do but cry and take it. I knew not to fight back. It’d only make matters worse. The slight buzz I was feeling from the wine had left my body and was replaced by feelings of hatred, anger, and fear. There was no way I could shield myself from whatever was coming next. I never could. I just braced myself for what was sure to follow. By this time, he was standing over my naked, shivering-in-fear body, rubbing at the bulge in his pants.
Girls from da Hood 14 Page 11
