Sweet St. Louis

by Omar Tyree

  “But think about it though, man. We’ve only known each other for a month.”

  “And? What that mean? That ain’t stop you before.”

  Tone had a point.

  “I guess you was right then, this girl got me. At least for right now,” Ant responded.

  Tone said, “There you go talking that ‘right now’ shit again. You been saying that for weeks.”

  “That’s because everything changes once you get it. You know how that is, man.”

  “Yeah, we’ll see. Anyway, I got that new job out Richmond Heights, cleaning carpets. I’ll be in training this week.”

  “See that? All you gotta do is try, man. Now you gotta keep it. Because you had jobs before,” Ant said with a laugh. Nevertheless, he was happy for him.

  “I know,” Tone responded, chuckling himself. “I think we make like seven dollars a hour.”

  “You think? You better know,” Ant told him.

  “I’ll find out.”

  “Anyway, man, what else has been up?” Ant didn’t want to dwell on Tone’s new job. He wanted to wait and see if his partner could actually keep one long enough to celebrate. It was similar to Ant’s own ability to hold on to a woman. He couldn’t do it.

  “I need to be asking you that,” Tone responded. “So now that you don’t have Shawntè no more, what are you gonna do when your rocks get hard? Are you goin’ back to old ass, or are ya gonna start chokin’ ya’ chicken,” he added with a laugh.

  “Naw, dawg, you won’t have me grabbin’ low at my shit,” Ant said. Realizing that things would never go her way, Shawntè had already stepped away from him.

  “You tellin’ me that you never jerked off a day in your life? Get the hell out of here!” Tone doubted. He considered it unbelievable, based on all of the times when he had to take pleasure into his own hands.

  “Look, man, everybody ain’t hard-pressed like you,” Ant countered with a laugh. He had a strong hunch that Tone had been around the block a few times with the five-finger method, but he had never asked. It wasn’t his kind of conversation.

  “You think girls don’t do it? Ask Sharron,” his friend challenged.

  “Man, I wouldn’t even talk about nothing like that with her.”

  “Have you asked her when was the last time she had one?”

  “Naw.”

  “Well, you better ask her something,” Tone advised.

  Ant laughed it off. “All of that stuff will come out in time.”

  Tone said, “How many guys you think she’s been with? She just turned twenty-four, right?”

  Ant began to shake his head with his black cordless phone in hand.

  “Come on, man, you trippin’.”

  “Aw’ight then. What about if she asks you how many girls you had? Are you gonna tell her?”

  Ant had stopped counting. It was a plenty large number, too. Large, like in three figures. But at least he had begun to slow down over the last few years.

  “You think I would tell her something like that?” he asked honestly.

  “I’m saying, though. What if she asks you?”

  “I’d lie, and tell her that I had somewhere around forty.”

  “Forty? I had more than that! You think she would believe that?”

  “Man, trust me. Most women don’t have a clue, because they’re always lying to themselves. Like Chris Rock said in Bring the Pain, they don’t even count their one-night stands. But we do.”

  “Damn right we do,” Tone agreed with a laugh. “Shit, if it wasn’t for one-night stands, I couldn’t count twenty girls right now.”

  Ant said, “Yeah, so when we count everything, women actually think we had relationships with all of these girls. And that shit is crazy! I mean, do they actually think that when Wilt Chamberlain said he slept with twenty thousand women, that he had relationships with all of ’em? That don’t even make no sense. He would have to be a thousand years old.”

  Tone said, “Man, I don’t even think you can fuck twenty thousand women in one lifetime. Wilt Chamberlain lying his ass off. His dick would be purple by now.”

  Ant laughed and said, “It probably is. All bent up from too much stroking.”

  “Hey, man, you ever thought about how big Shaquille O’Neal’s Johnson is?”

  Ant stopped laughing and asked, “What?” He didn’t believe that Tone was asking him something as far out as that. Tone kept right on with his query unabashedly.

  “I mean, he wear a size twenty-one shoe or something like that, right? And the boy is huge, man! Seven foot one, three hundred twenty pounds! I mean, I wonder what women are thinking when he asks to go out with them. I would be afraid that he would break me in half or something.”

  Ant started to laugh again. ‘You crazy as hell, dawg,” he told his friend. “I’m not even thinking about no shit like that. You got way too much free time on your hands.”

  “I’m serious though, Ant. If I was a girl, and a big ma-fucker like Shaq asked me out, I’d be like, ‘Oohh, no! No damn way!’”

  Ant had tears in his eyes and had to hold the phone away while he laughed.

  “Hey, man, you had some chronic earlier or what?” he assumed.

  ‘Yeah, I had a little somethin’ somethin’,” Tone admitted.

  “I can tell.”

  “Anyway, man, when you think you gon’ finally get wit’ her?” Tone was going back to the discussion concerning Sharron.

  “Why are you so worried about it? I mean, it’s not like I didn’t have to wait to get a girl before.”

  “Yeah, but you always had five, ten other girls on the side. Now you can’t even keep one. That Shawntè girl was all right. She dressed kind of freaky, but she was aw’ight.”

  “You want her or something? I’ll give you her phone number to call her if you wanna keep talking about her.”

  Tone paused and thought for a minute.

  “I want Sharron,” he admitted with a laugh.

  Ant said, “You high right now, man. Stop fuckin’ around like that. Seriously.”

  “But I’m sayin’ though, dawg. If you’re gonna get rid of her anyway, then why should it matter to you that I want her.”

  “Because I ain’t fuckin’ finished with her yet!” Ant snapped. He didn’t realize how upset he was over the idea. With any other woman, he would have more than likely laughed it off. But the reference to passing on Sharron Francis triggered something extra inside of him. He was becoming close to her. She was beginning to mean something to him and he was willing to protect her.

  “Hey, man, don’t say shit else about Sharron. And that’s on the real,” he warned Tone.

  All the fun and laughter stopped right there. At least from Ant’s point of view. Because Tone was still planning to have a good time with it.

  “Why don’t you just give her my number when you through with her?” he added with a chuckle. “She already talked to me before. She might even like me, on the down low side of things.”

  Tone wasn’t the least bit afraid of Ant. Fighting was something that he could beat his partner in. Not that Ant was a wimp or anything; Tone simply had a harder life and had learned how to make things hard for others in physical disputes.

  Ant said, “It sounds like it’s time for me to hang up.”

  “Why, you don’t love me no more? Over a bitch!”

  An overload of energy shot into Ant’s brain and ricocheted into his right arm, bringing the cordless phone down against his kitchen table.

  CLAAACCKKK!

  The phone snapped into three pieces: a mouthpiece, a battery, and the battery clamp.

  “THAT MOTHERFUCKER!” Ant yelled at the walls. “He always gotta start some crazy shit! If he can’t handle that weed, then he needs to leave that shit alone! DAMN!”

  He put his phone back together and sat down to calm himself. As soon as the phone was back in order it rang again.

  Ant answered it and said, “Hey, man, don’t call here no more when you high, all right? That’s all I hav
e to say to you right now,” and was ready to hang up.

  “Anthony, this is Paul Mancini. What are you talking about?” his boss asked with a chuckle.

  Ant was embarrassed by it. “Oh, my bad, Paul. I thought you were someone else.”

  Paul paused, thinking. “It’s not that guy who comes by the job for you all of the time is it? Because if it is, you need to really think about finding a better friend. And I’m not saying that to bad-mouth your friends, I’m just telling you as someone who knows, and as your boss. Because if this guy is getting high, and then coming around you during work hours, then that doesn’t look good for me, or for you. You understand me?”

  Shit! Ant thought. The boss already disliked Tone. Now he had a more concrete reason to not want him on the premises.

  “Naw, it wasn’t him,” he lied. “And I’m not saying he’s perfect or anything, but—”

  Paul cut off the bullshit and said, “Look, Anthony, I was calling up all of the guys tonight to see if you all wanted a half a day tomorrow, because I have to make a trip out to Kansas City tonight, and I won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.

  “Now, I don’t want to get in the middle of you and your friend, but business is business, and I don’t think I want him on my premises anymore,” he added. “Now, if he shows up and he does happen to be under the influence of something, then you no longer have employment with me, and I will have your friend arrested on the spot!

  “Do we understand each other? Anthony?”

  “Yeah, we do.”

  “Do you want tomorrow morning off?”

  “Yeah, I’ll take it off.”

  Ant hung up the phone and was crushed. He had no words for himself. Not even thoughts. He was simply numb.

  He sighed and finally mumbled, “You try your best to be there for a ma-fucker, and look what happens. Now the boss gon’ be lookin’ at me all sideways and shit, thinking that I’m doing something. DAMN!”

  He stood up and paced his apartment, brooding for a few minutes before deciding to call Sharron. Who else could he talk to? Women were sensitive, sensitive to everything that mattered. Calling another guy would likely get an insensitive response of “Fuck it, man! Just do what you gotta do.”

  Ant wanted more than that. He wanted someone to understand what he was going through. All humans wanted someone to understand what was weighing down their minds. So he went ahead and called her up.

  “What are you doing right now?” he asked, as soon as he heard her voice.

  She seemed excited. “I was just about to call you.”

  “I know,” he told her. “I felt it.”

  “Like The Force, hunh?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

  She laughed at it. Hearing her laugh turned him on. He wanted to lay down with her right then and there for the real deal to connect with her, body and soul.

  “What if I wanted you to visit me tonight? Would you say no?”

  She paused. “Are you asking me?”

  “What if I am?”

  “What if?” she countered.

  Shit! I don’t have time for this cerebral bullshit tonight! I just want to do what comes natural to us, he thought to himself, tiring of the mental foreplay. He got desperate.

  “I’m coming right now to get you. Aw’ight?”

  Sharron laughed at it. “Just like that, hunh?” she asked. She realized that it sounded out of character for him. But so what? Being out of character was a good thing for a man to show a woman. It meant that she had broken him down, and had lowered his shield of cool.

  “Yeah, just like that,” he told her.

  “And where are we going?”

  “I’ll tell you when I get there.”

  She paused again. “Okay. Come and get me.”

  Sometimes women say the damnedest things and don’t even know it. Men take those things, run with them, say them a dozen times or so, and paint whatever fantasies they want with them.

  Okay. Come and get me … Come and get me … Come and get me.

  I’ll come and get you all right, Ant thought with a grin and a fast hard-on.

  “How long will it take you to get here?” she asked him.

  It was close to nine-thirty that post-birthday Monday night.

  “Twenty-five minutes.”

  “All right then. I’ll be ready.”

  Ready for what? he mused. Maybe she thought they’d go cruising and talking again. Ant was hardly in the mood for that. He had already run out of patience for the waiting game before sex. He just wondered if she had, and if driving over there to pick her up would be a big mistake. Maybe he should have just called up an old acquaintance for the night. He had too much to lose with Sharron to react in haste. Every possible scenario ran through his mind while driving west to University City. Nevertheless, he kept driving there, as if he were on a mission: Superman flying around the globe at light speed to save the life of Lois Lane.

  When he reached Sharron’s apartment parking lot, he hesitated.

  “Aw, man, what if she still thinking about chillin’ with no contact?” he mumbled to himself. The Pharcyde song “She Said” was still ringing in his head. But before he could back away, there she was, walking down the steps of her second-floor apartment and toward the car.

  Why am I so worried about this? Just go for what you know, he told himself. Sharron opened the car door and hopped in.

  Ant smiled and said, “You really meant it when you said you’d be ready. I was gonna come up and get you.”

  “I didn’t want my roommate ridin’ me again,” she said.

  “Does she always act like that with your friends?”

  Sharron smiled, looking as tempting as a woman should look when a man is on the prowl for her. “No. Really, it’s just with you,” she responded.

  “Why is she so worried about me?”

  He had a guilty conscience. He knew damn well why Celena was concerned about him. He was a player. And Celena knew more than a few, where Sharron rarely attracted them. They said a word or two to Sharron, and her responses always let them know that it would be a long, scoreless ball game.

  “I guess she figures that you’re bad for me,” Sharron answered, face to face.

  That made Ant feel worse about his predicament. He turned away. All of the time spent. The hours of talk. The desire for closeness. It all came down to a pressed night for the flesh anyway. But hell, he wasn’t going anywhere. They could still do the same things they did before. The sex was only physical. Why would that stop their mental connection?

  “And what about you? Do you think I’m bad for you?” he asked Sharron. He wasn’t supposed to ask her that question. He was supposed to convince her that he was good, and worth every second of her time. But frankly, the bullshit was tiring! And Ant was getting older, realizing his emptiness. Empty like most men, looking to be filled up with something. Just like women were. Loveless or lovesick, and all in need of healing.

  Sharron said, “I don’t know. Should I be afraid of you? I’m not.”

  “I don’t want you to be,” he told her. “And you shouldn’t have to be. But …”

  How exactly would he put the truth in words?

  “It’s kind of hard to stop, Sharron. I mean, once you figure out you got this power to do what you want with women, it’s just hard to give that shit up. I mean, I’m always feeling it,” he told her.

  “Feeling what? What is it that you feel?” she asked him. “And is it just you? Or is it in all guys?”

  He shook his head and frowned. “You can never say that it’s a part of all guys. That would be like saying that drug addiction, or alcoholism, or crime, is in all guys. And that’s not the case.”

  “So, what is the case? I mean, you tell me.”

  He shook his head again, trying to come up with the perfect word to explain it. “It’s a drive, Sharron. A drive for life. And once you find out how good that shit is, it’s addictive, and you never want to let go of that wheel. So som
ebody has to pull it out of your hands. Either that, or you end up crashed the hell up on the side of the road somewhere. And what do you do after that?”

  “You get another car and you drive more carefully,” Sharron answered on cue.

  Ant shook his head. “That’s not as easy as it sounds.”

  “How do you cure yourself then?”

  Ant thought about it. “You take turns with somebody you can trust,” he told her. “Your turn, my turn, your turn, my turn. Like that.”

  And damn it sounded good! Because it made sense. Sex was a very powerful thing. Not many men or women were willing to give it up. Not completely. However, its trusted and shared power was much more meaningful than selfishness and reckless freelancing.

  Sharron, feeling the moment of truth, reached out for Ant’s hand as they sat in silence for a moment. “Do you trust me?” she asked him.

  “I want to. And I want you to trust me,” he told her. “But you know what’s funny about trust. You can never really trust someone until you give them a chance to be trusted with something in the first place. And how long does that shit take?” he asked with a chuckle.

  “Until you feel comfortable with your decision,” Sharron answered him. “And too many times we don’t feel comfortable, and that only leads to disaster. Every time. Especially for women.”

  “You don’t think that guys have things to distrust women about?”

  “I didn’t say that. I know better. I have a roommate,” she commented with a smile.

  “Yeah, well, those decisions are just as hard for us to make. How much do you tell a woman? ’Cause she gon’ use everything you tell her against you. So you end up with a bunch of lies instead. Then you gotta keep track of all of ’em.”

  Sharron smiled. “It sounds like you know a lot about it.”

  “Oh, I do. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

  “What have you lied to me about?”

  “Nothing. That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Do you know how many women I’ve introduced to my mother in the past five years?”

  Sharron had actually thought about that during her birthday date. But she was too stunned by her surprise meeting with his mother to even ask him about it. She had thought about many things that night. But sometimes our minds can go blank, and we fail to process it all.