Capital City

by Omar Tyree

  I wanted to say, “Oh, but he can beat’cha ass though, right?” But looking at my sister stopped me. So I jetted to my room and slammed my fucking door.

  And here my mom come banging on the shit. “You a evil person, Darnell! You need to realize when people need help. And you don’t try to hurt a person who needs help.” She was talking about Julius and his damn habit again, and I was tired of that shit.

  I said, “Yo, fuck him and fuck you! He’s ya husband! He ain’t gettin’ no ass from me! And if I help ’im, I’m gon’ help his ass to a graveyard!”

  She said, “Well, maybe you need t’ get the hell out of this house then!”

  “Fuck dis slum-ass house! I’ll get da hell out right now! I ain’t gotta take dis shit!”

  Three days later, this man down the street from us had a daughter moving out of her apartment in Northeast, off of Nineteenth Street and Rhode Island Avenue. I packed up my clothes, took the four hundred dollars that my mom gave me, and got the fuck up out of there for my own spot.

  * * *

  I bet she think I’m homeless now. But I got news for her ass. I got furniture, a big screen TV, a VCR, a telephone line, and food in this motherfucker! Yeah, this nigga living right!

  I get up and walk to my small-ass kitchen to cook some eggs. I’m thinking about Carlette now. That’s fucked up, because I just got some ass last night from that girl, Marquita. And yet I’m still thinking about Carlette’s ass.

  This girl got me sweating her like a bamma!

  My telephone rings. I hope it ain’t Butterman. I’m trying to chill today. Fuck you’n.

  “Hello.”

  “H-i-i-i, Shannnk. It’s Kita. I just wanted t’ say good mornin’ an’ t’ tell you that I had a good time last night.”

  “You had a good time last night?” Hell is she talkin’ ’bout? I’m thinking.

  “Yeah, you know. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

  “Naw, but I’m cookin’ right now. Call me back in a few.”

  “You cook?” she asks me like she’s shocked.

  “Yeah, what da fuck? A nigga gotta eat, right?” Bitch!

  She laughs and shit. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  I’m sorry too. I’m sorry I gave her my damn number!

  “Yeah, well, just call me back later on.”

  “Okay, but umm, where you live at, ’cause Tamisha was gon’ drop me off to come see you.”

  “Huh?” Is this girl crazy? I’m not tellin’ her where I live.

  “I wanna come see you,” she says.

  “Aw’ight, well, look, call me back and we’ll talk about it.”

  I hang up on her before she can say any more dumb shit. The nerve of that bitch, calling me up and asking me where I live, talking about she wants to come see me just because she gave me some free pussy last night! Bitches are out of their fucking minds!

  I sit on my living-room couch and eat a scrambled egg and toast sandwich, watching X-Men. Wolverine is like dat! I bought a couple of his comics.

  After the show goes off, I run down to the lobby and check my mail from yesterday.

  Shit, my cousin sent me a letter!

  I dash back upstairs and read it while sipping on some orange juice.

  Yo, this is Cal.

  I know who da hell it is! Ain’t no other motherfuckas writin’ letters an’ shit. I shake my head and smile. Then I drink some orange juice and start to read it.

  Yo, cuz, those new comics from Milestone, Inc. I was telling you about just came out. I got all of them. They got one called Blood Syndicate, then Icon and Hardware. And yo, them shits sold out in the first week. I can’t wait to graduate now. I’m going straight up to New York. Greenwich Village is where all the artists hang out. I’m telling you, Nell, I’m gonna have my name on something next year, whether it be comic books, paintings, or poetry.

  Oh, yeah, man, Oz is bugging out. I had to beat his ass last night ’cause he came in the house trippin’. He was pressuring Moms to give him some money for that drug shit. It’s fucked up, man. I was reading this article before that, said that people often take their anger out on their loved ones because they know they can still be forgiven. Because you know, if they hurt somebody that don’t love them, then they might end up dead.

  You got that shit right, you’n, ’cause I don’t give a fuck about Julius!

  Yo, clock, you been to the movies lately? Smile. I know you have, Nell, so don’t even front on me. Yo, did you see Hoffa?

  Yeah, that movie was aw’ight. But I wouldn’t see it twice.

  Under Siege?

  Yeah, that flick was cool. It had a lot of action in it.

  Aliens-3?

  The second one was da shit. But this joint spent too much time with them dumb-ass prisoners. That movie was gettin’ borin’, Joe. Dey ain’t even have no fuckin’ weapons!

  Sniper?

  Oh, yeah! Sniper was like dat! That muthafucka was one of those psychological movies. It was slow in’na beginnin’ though.

  Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 3?

  Aw, man, hell no! I ain’t go see that trash. But I checked out Batman Returns. And yo, that joint was a little raw for a superhero movie. I guess I’m too used to watchin’ that soft, Superman-type shit.

  Yeah, I’m just joking about the Ninja Turtles. But that movie Sniper reminded me of you. You see all the trauma they was going through in that movie, man? You don’t wanna go through that shit, Nell. I’m telling you man, you better do like Ice Cube says and “Check yo’self before you wreck yo’self.” Anyway, I ain’t trying to preach to you, but that cold killer life is crazy, Nell. Or should I call you Shank now? Ha-ha-ha. Remember that time we was about to fight because I refused to call you that dumb shit years ago?

  Yo, you was bugging, man. But anyway, I know you ain’t into writing letters or nothing so I’ll just keep you up to date on shit.

  Love, peace ’n hair grease-that’s that Big Daddy Kane shit. He got a new album coming out soon.

  Audi 5000—Boyeeee

  This motherfucker lunchin’! He crazy as hell if he thinks I’m gonna give up all this money to try that poor man’s art shit. I’m making five hundred dollars a week, just to drive around in a 3000 GT and beat down a few niggas every now and then. And fuck it, if I have to kill somebody . . . I got to do what I got to do. It ain’t nothing but a chicken wing, you know what I’m saying? But I mean, I do think about rappin’ every once and a while.

  I’m bored like shit, sitting here watching cartoons. I feel like calling Carlette up but I don’t want to sweat her. As soon as you start really liking a girl, that’s when the bitch starts playing you. All these rappers ain’t talking that shit for nothing. Bitches are slimy! But fuck it, I still feel like calling her up though. I mean, this girl just lets me chill, and she don’t bother me. Like this girl Kita is getting on my nerves already. I can tell she gon’ be a pest. But Carlette is just what a nigga needs to have some peace of mind, you know? Everybody needs peace of mind. That’s why niggas mess around and marry white bitches. They’re tired of arguing and shit with these black women. Marrying white bitches ain’t for me though. I wouldn’t even know what the hell to say to a white girl. But I see how them other niggas feel.

  I call up Carlette any fucking way. “Hey, girl, what’s up? What’chu doin’?”

  “Trigonometry.”

  “Triga-what?” She laughs. “Naw, I’m jus’ jokin’, that’s that geometry-type shit wit’ formulas and all. You could draw angles and shit wit’ rulers. I used t’ like that class in high school.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t. And trig is more formulas than geometry,” she says tiredly.

  She don’t sound too talkative today. Or maybe she upset about me not coming over last night. “Yo, I ended up havin’ to do some other shit last night. Aw’ight?” Aw, man, look at me soundin’ like a bamma! Damn, I can’t even take it back now. See what bitches do to you?

  “Oh, I wasn’t worried about that.”

  “
So what’chu do last night den?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothin’?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, I’m gon’ make it up to you t’day.”

  “Oh, yeah? What time you coming over then?”

  “Like in an hour. So be downstairs for me. Aw’ight?”

  “All right.”

  “Okay, let me get ready.”

  “Aw’ight, bye.”

  See that shit? That’s my kind of girl.

  * * *

  I get down to the Howard Towers Plaza-East and meet Carlette in the lobby. She’s reading this big, black book. She lets me in. The girl at the front desk doesn’t say nothing about no I.D., so we walk right to the elevators.

  “Are you goin’ somewhere?” I ask her. Carlette’s wearing a bright green skirt with white stockings and a T-shirt, as if she’s getting ready to go out.

  “I was.”

  “So what, I’m stoppin’ you now?”

  “No.”

  “So how come you not goin’ no more?” She smiles.

  “Because I have company.”

  “You have company? Who?”

  “You, Darnell.”

  I smile back at her, trying to stay cool. I feel like a damn kid with a new set of army men. This girl is good for a nigga’s ego. I walk into her room and perform my regular routine. I take off my jacket, hat, and Tims then stretch out across her neat bed.

  She kicks off her shoes, props up her two pillows and lays beside me. She’s still reading her book with her knees up and her back against her pillows. And she smells good as hell, like she always does.

  “What’s dat’chu readin’?” I ask her.

  “Elaine Brown and the Black Panther Party.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I lean across her body and pick up the book’s cover jacket from off the floor. “A Taste of Power, huh? Damn, she looks kinda good!”

  “Why, because she’s light-skinned?” Carlette is smiling at me now, like she got me on a tough question or something.

  “Naw, because she has smooth skin, some pretty-ass eyes and she looks clean and healthy. Now! You thought you had me stumblin’, huh?”

  She smirks like she’s been carried.

  I toss the cover back to the floor. “I thought you said you was doin’ trigonometry?” I ask her, teasing.

  “I was, but I’m finished.”

  “No you ain’t. Now, get back and do that damn homework, girl.” I give her a soft push, and she giggles.

  “You sound like my father.”

  “How?”

  “Because he’s always asking me about my homework.”

  “Yeah, but is he cool though?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Would he like a nigga like me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Aw, don’t lie. Ya pop would prob’ly have a heart attack.” I mock how her father would probably be, “Carlette, out of all the young, potential men at Howard University, you get yourself involved with a street person.”

  She laughs like shit. I must have hit her pop right on the nose. But it’s cool. I know I can’t keep no educated bitch like her. I’m just in it while it lasts. And she probably is too.

  “You always make me laugh,” she says, blushing.

  “I’on know why.”

  She sucks her teeth and smiles. “You know why.”

  “No I don’t.” I get up off the bed and walk over to her stereo system where she keeps all of her cassettes and CDs. “Oh, you got Digable Planets’ album, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm,” she mumbles with her face still inside that Elaine Brown book.

  I pick up the CD and read the title. “‘Reachin’ (a new refutation of time and space).’ Oh, shit, you got my nigga 2Pac’s album, too!” I pick up 2Pac’s cassette tape.

  “Yeah, I like him,” she says, all excited. She lifts her head out of the book for him. “That’s why I got his cassette, so I can listen to it in my car.”

  I grin at her. “So would you make love t’ 2Pac?”

  She sucks her teeth and smiles again. “No, Darnell. I don’t know him.”

  “Yeah, aw’ight. I bet if that ma’fucka had a concert at da Cap’ Center, you’d be up in his hotel line.”

  “No, I wouldn’t! But he is supposed to be up here next week though.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where at?”

  “At the Howard University Hip Hop Conference.”

  “So you goin’?”

  “Oh, I’on know. I heard it costs like seventy-five dollars for the weekend.”

  I frown at her. “Seventy-five dollars? Them ma’fuckas is crazy. It must be for rich Howard students only.”

  She shakes her head, grinning. “You know, I don’t know why everybody thinks Howard students are so rich. I mean, it’s a few like that, yeah, but most Howard students are getting financial aid and student loans like at any other school.”

  “So how come they talk so much shit about Howard den?”

  “Because it has an old reputation.”

  “Yeah, I guess so, huh?” I hop back on her bed and wrap my legs around hers. I tug on her hips with my hands while she’s still trying to read.

  “Ain’t it a little too early for this?” she asks me, grinning.

  “No, not if my shit gets hard.”

  She smiles, but she doesn’t laugh. “Do you like that song by Dr. Dre and them? ‘Bitches Ain’t Shit but Hoes and Tricks’?”

  Damn, she tryin’a pull a Joker’s Wild on me! “Naw, I’on listen to it much. Why?”

  She’s still smiling, as if she thinks I’m lying. But I don’t listen to it that much.

  “Do you call girls bitches and hoes?”

  Oh my God! Is she fuckin’ me up or what? “Yo, why you askin’ me somethln’ like that?”

  “Because I know you do. You probably can’t even help it because you’ve been doing it for so long.”

  “So that shit wouldn’t bother you?”

  “No, as long as I wasn’t called no bitch to my face, what can I do about it? But I read before that black men degrade their women because they’re afraid of them.”

  I frown at her. “Afraid of ’em? Afraid of what?”

  She grins, like she knows some shit that I don’t know.

  “Of gettin’ their feelings hurt in a relationship.”

  “So what that got to do wit’ callin’ a girl a bitch?”

  “It’s like, if you call a girl a bitch and you say that you don’t care about her, then you’ll be more prepared, emotionally, to walk away from her if she gets close to hurting you.”

  Damn! That makes good-ass sense. She might be right. “Where you read this at?” I ask her.

  “I don’t really remember where I read it, but that’s just how I think about it. And you know, sometimes you read things and forget the source and you kind of add it to your own thoughts.”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean. I do the same kinda thing wit’ my lyrics, mixin’ and minglin’ different styles.”

  “You can rap?” She looks all surprised.

  “Yeah, a li’l bit,” I tell her, being modest. I think I’m a bad motherfucker!

  “Can you write poetry too?”

  “I’on know. I never tried. But my cousin can write poetry.”

  “Is he a writer?”

  “Oh, Cal is all kinds of shit. That’s my nigga! I just got a letter from him t’day.”

  Carlette finally closes her book and leans closer, up against me. She runs her fingers over my chest, making my shit hard. And I guess we’re about to get into something.

  “Darnell?” she asks me, looking all sexy.

  “What?”

  “Do you call me a bitch when you talk about me?”

  Shit! Yo, she messin’ wit’ me good! You see how bit—I mean girls, get?

  I’m smiling because this shit is crazy. “Yo, why you keep stressin’ dat shit?”

  “I’m just asking. I mean, I’m not gonna be hurt by it.”

  “Yeah right. Why yo
u askin’ then?”

  “I don’t know. I just keep thinking about how girls don’t really ask their boyfriends stuff like that.”

  Boyfriend? Aw, she really tryin’a pull a Joker’s Wild on me now. I say, “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. So I figure if we really ask guys about it, but not in like an angry way, I think guys would really think about it more before they did it.”

  She got that shit right. ’Cause she done messed my head all up!

  I chill with Carlette all fucking day and end up falling asleep listening to that Digable Planets, poetry-type shit. I sit up and listen to Carlette talking to somebody out in the hallway. Then she shuts the door and comes back into the room to watch TV with the lights off.

  “Yo, who was that?”

  “My friend from class.”

  “Do you ever go out wit’ ’im?”

  “No.”

  It’s funny, but in all of the five months that I’ve been fucking with her, we ain’t never went no damn where. And she got a car.

  “Yo, how come you never asked me ta take you out or nothing?”

  She shrugs her shoulders. “Because you never said you wanted to. So I just thought that you were busy.”

  “Busy? Doin’ what?”

  “I’on know, whatever you do all day.”

  She sits on the floor and leans up against the bed. I lean up on my elbow and play with her long, brown hair.

  “So do you go out with other ma’fuckas?”

  “Not motherfuckers, but other guys, yeah.”

  I laugh. “Yeah? And do they come over here?”

  “Sometimes.”

  Oh, shit, it’s happening! I’m getting jealous! I want to ask her if she ever “had sex” with them. But that question ain’t gon’ sound right.

  “We don’t do nothin’ though. And I only let one other guy spend the night, because he was from back home in Ohio, and he was down here for homecoming last year.”

  Good, she read my damn mind. “And he ain’t even touch you?” I ask her, still digging like a cold miner.