The California Saga

by Chunichi

  “Kisses back at you, Boobie.”

  “Okay, now to business. Tell me how to get my rich man!” For once Sasha seemed really interested in my advice.

  “All right, listen carefully. Matter of fact, you might need to jot this down.” I laughed then continued. “First, you have to look, act, and talk like a top-notch chick. Your persona can’t say stripper, groupie, or gold digger. Show that you are pretty and intelligent, not some dumb chick. You should familiarize yourself with upscale places in the area.

  “Next, you have to know your target. You have to be able to identify real money, know the difference between dope boy money versus athlete, entertainment, and distinguished money. Don’t be fooled by exotic car rentals, fake jewelry, and fake clothes. Men with genuine money are reserved and on the low. They have nothing to prove, and therefore they’re not flamboyant, and never seeking attention.

  “Once you’ve identified your man, you have to get his attention. Do this by sending him and his boys a drink. On your first date, pull out your wallet and prepare to pay. Although he will stop you, he will find it very impressive. If things go farther, when you’re out shopping, bring him back something significant, like his favorite cologne. When you’re spending the night at his house, tidy up a little, and more importantly, get up and go to work in the morning.

  “Now this is the part where most women fuck up, so pay close attention. Play your position. I repeat—play your position. Know that you are more than likely not the only female in his life. Nine times out of ten, he has a wife at home, which makes you a mistress. Never compete with the home front. Don’t smother him. You will receive monetary support and gifts for the lack of attention. And, last but not least, satisfy your man sexually. Have a huge sexual appetite, learn what turns him on and off, and be prepared to fill his every fantasy. You want to do everything that his wife or the next girl won’t do. So if that means threesomes, sucking dick, licking ass or fucking in the ass, be prepared and willing to do it.” I ran down the dos and don’ts like I wrote the manual.

  “Damn, it’s that serious, huh? I think I got it, though. I’m gonna put it to the test in Atlanta. I’ll let you know if it works.”

  “It’s foolproof, baby,” I assured her. “I promise you, if executed correctly, it will work.”

  “Oh, I know. If anybody knows how to get a man or woman, it’s you. Hell, you even got the power to get straight bitches.” Sasha somehow managed to turn this conversation around to talk about Shakira.

  “Blah, blah, blah, blah,” I sang to cut her off. “I’m not trying to hear that shit. This is your last day here. You supposed to be over here fucking me like you will never get another piece of pussy in life.” I knew that would grab her attention.

  “That’s why I was calling. I want to spend my last hours with you. Are you going to come get me?”

  “Is everything in order?” I asked, to be sure she had mended all her loose ends.

  “Yep. They closed on the house today. The family I sold the furniture to came and got the last of it yesterday. I dropped off my truck this morning, and the boys have already made it to Georgia.” Sasha ran down everything to me.

  “Okay, I’m on my way.” I hung up the phone, freshened up, and headed out the door. Thirty minutes later, I was in front of her house. Sasha hopped in, and I put the truck in drive to pull off.

  “Wait.” Sasha placed her hand on top of mine at the gearshift.

  I put the truck back in park. “What’s wrong?”

  Sasha didn’t respond. She just stared at her house.

  “Did you forget something?” I asked, confused by her actions.

  Again she didn’t say anything, but she did shake her head no. I had a feeling that something was really wrong. I gently grabbed her by her chin and turned her toward me. And, just as I’d thought, tears were rolling down her eyes. I didn’t say a word. I just grabbed her and hugged her tight. I listened as she cried hysterically.

  “This is my house, Jewel,” she said, forcing out the words. “This is all I had left. Now I have nothing, absolutely nothing. No car, no furniture, no home, nothing. All I have is a shitload of dance costumes and heels, and a single suitcase of daily clothes.”

  Damn, I thought to myself, she doesn’t deserve this. I truly felt bad for her.

  “Baby, I wish I could make it all right,” I told her. “Look, before you know it, things will be better. Just go to Atlanta and stack your dough. When you get a little saved up, I’ll put it in the right places and make things happen.”

  “Okay, baby.” Sasha wiped her tears away, and I pulled off.

  It wasn’t until I got home that I realized I was really gonna miss Sasha.

  The next couple of hours were spent in pure ecstasy. Sasha had made me feel things I’d never felt before and in places I’ve never felt before. I’d never felt such pleasure in my life. She definitely left her mark.

  As she was washing up to prepare to leave, I went through my dresser drawers and my closet and collected things I knew she would like. When she came out the bathroom, I had a number of jeans, dresses, shirts and bags waiting for her.

  “Too bad you don’t wear my shoe size,” I said as she looked as the things I had laid out for her.

  “This is for me?” Sasha said in disbelief.

  “Yes. I want you to have them.”

  “Your True Religion, Joe’s Jeans, and Rock and Republic? They still have tags on them!” Sasha said, still in doubt.

  “Baby, it’s all yours,” I reassured her.

  “Even your Prada bag?”

  “Everything on the bed, Boobie.”

  “Damn!” Sasha rushed over and kissed me passionately. “I love you so much!”

  “I want it back when you come back to VA, though.” I shot her a quick look. “I’m just joking.”

  We laughed together.

  The trip to the airport and the good-byes were heart-wrenching. I drove home depressed like a little girl who’d just lost her puppy. I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels as my mind wandered. I thought about all the good times and all the bad times we’d shared. I never thought I would miss her as much as I did.

  My house phone began to ring, interrupting my reminiscing.

  “Hello,” I said without even looking at the caller ID.

  A male voice said, “May I speak with Mrs. Burroughs, please?”

  “You have the wrong number,” I said and prepared to hang up.

  “I believe I have the correct number,” the person said on the other end of the phone.

  The voice began to sound familiar to me.

  “Who is this?” I asked

  “Mr. Burroughs,” he responded.

  “Calico?” I said, figuring it could only be him.

  “What up? How you gon’ be my wifey and not know your last name?”

  I snapped, “You never offered to give me your government name. I figured you would tell me when you wanted me to know.”

  “Michael Burroughs. You happy?”

  “Nah. I need a social security number, permanent address, and the name and phone number of your nearest relative,” I spat back.

  “Damn. What am I doing, applying for a line of credit?” Calico laughed.

  “I’m just fucking with you. So when am I going to see you? I’m real lonely right now.”

  “I’ll be there probably in a week or so.”

  “What if I can’t wait that long?” I said, just to see how he would respond.

  “Then I’ll come sooner.”

  “Yeah, right,” I said, knowing he was just talking shit.

  “I’m serious. I’ll do whatever makes you happy.”

  “Well, in that case, can you make everything right so my girl can come back to Virginia?” I said, really missing Sasha.

  “Huh?” Calico was thrown by my request.

  “My girl Sasha just left to go to Georgia. She had to move because shit was really fucked-up for her here. So she’s going down there for a while
to try and get things back in order. She just left, and I already miss her.”

  “I’m sorry, baby. I wish I was there to pamper you. You want me to catch a flight tomorrow?”

  Calico asked.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah, but you can’t let nobody know I’m coming. Niggas gon’ expect this to be a business trip, and my phone gonna be blowing up the entire time. I’ll have to hide out at your crib or something, and we won’t be able to hang out.”

  “First of all, no one sleeps in my bed except rent-paying tenants. And, lastly, what fun would that be if we have to be cramped up in the crib anyway? I’d rather wait.”

  “That’s cool. We can wait. I was just trying to be there for you. And, for the record, I don’t mind paying rent. How much is it?” Calico asked like it was nothing.

  “My mortgage”—I put emphasis on the word mortgage —“is twelve hundred a month.”

  “A’ight, I got you. Do I need to put down a deposit too?” Calico said, cool as a fan.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should ask for a deposit, since you refused to supply information to put in a credit application.” I giggled.

  “I ain’t got no problem putting down a deposit. So when is my move in date?”

  “We’ll discuss that when the funds have been secured. I accept cash only, Mr. Burroughs.” I spoke to him in a professional tone as though I was a property manager.

  “Okay, well, I guess we’ve got a contracted lease. You can pick your funds up at a Western Union in about an hour.”

  “Okay. Bye”

  “Gone.” Calico ended the call.

  I watched the clock constantly as I counted down the minutes. After about forty-five minutes, I couldn’t wait any longer. I hopped in my truck and headed to the grocery store to check on the wire. I filled out the Western Union form and gave the cashier my ID. “Do you know how much?” she asked.

  Now my first thought was to say, “Did I put in an amount on the form?” Instead I chose to be nice and replied, “No, I don’t.”

  The cashier huffed and puffed as she entered the information in the computer. “Do you have the money transfer control number?”

  Now this time I just had to respond, “Do you see one on the paper?”

  The cashier must have gone with her better judgment and decided to keep any comments after that to herself. She handed me the money order and directed me to sign at the X.

  I glanced at the amount. “Three thousand, umph,” I said to no one in particular.

  The cashier counted out my money, and I pranced out the store with a big smile on my face.

  I called Calico as soon as I reached my truck.

  “Okay, it looks like I have a new tenant. When would you like to move in?” I asked as soon as he answered, pretending to be a landlord.

  Calico played along. “When will the place be ready?”

  “Immediately,” I responded, wanting him to come right away.

  Calico laughed at my eagerness.

  I figured, since we’d touched the money subject, this would be a good time to talk about exactly what type of business Calico had. Deep inside I already knew the deal, but I wanted to see just how he would carry it. I wanted to know if he was gonna be up front with me or keep playing the “I’ma-businessman” game.

  “Do you remember the first time you saw me?”

  “Of course, I do,” he answered confidently.

  I knew he thought I was referring to the bar, so I figured I would use this as an opportunity to get a little deeper in his pockets. “I bet you don’t.”

  “I’m a gambling man, so I’m game. Set your wager.” Calico was enthusiastic about our little competition.

  “Okay. If you win, I’ll give one sexual pleasure of my choice. If I win, you have to take me to Potomac Mills Outlet for a day of shopping.” I said, laying down the rules.

  “That’s cool with me. I just hope you can keep up your end of the bargain,” Calico said as though he knew he was going to win the bet.

  “Okay, so what’s the answer?”

  “It was a Friday,” Calico began to say very carefully. “The day I saw you at the bar with Touch.”

  “Wrong!” I said right away, interrupting him. “So when are we going shopping?”

  “Damn, you ain’t even let me finish.”

  “No need, hon. You are wrong. Now the answer to my question, please.”

  “As soon as I get there,” Calico responded, no longer putting up a fight. “Okay, and I’m holding you to this too.”

  “No problem.”

  “Why you so quick to give money up?” I asked, directing the conversation to where I really wanted it to go.

  “What make you say that?”

  “Well, you took me shopping on our first date. You sent me three grand like it was nothing, and now you just agreed to take me shopping again with no problem. The average dude ain’t coming off no money like that, especially with a chick he’s only known for a couple of days.”

  Calico gave the safest answer he could, but that wasn’t gonna stop me from finding out what I wanted to know. “I feel like I’ve known you for years.”

  “I’m sure, but that doesn’t answer my question. I’ve noticed you’re pretty good at avoiding subjects that you rather not talk about, but in order for this thing we have to go any further, I have to know exactly who I am dealing with.”

  I heard him chuckle on the other end of the phone. “I like you, Jewel, but there are things that I can’t tell you. Not yet anyway. I am good at dodging bullets and questions. It comes with the territory. I do this for a reason, and I shouldn’t have to defend that at all.”

  I listened as Calico talked. I heard what he was selling, but I wasn’t sure if I was buying. Calico had so much game, it was almost impossible to tell when he was lying from when he was being sincere.

  “When you’re in my position, it puts even the ones you care about at risk. That’s why I do my business on the East Coast. When I was working in the area where I lay my head at, shit got too hot. I’m constantly worrying about the safety of my kids and their mothers as well as the rest of my family. Withholding shit from friends and relatives in my line of business keeps niggas breathing for at least another day.”

  I wondered what type of girl he figured I was. “So what are you saying, Calico?”

  “You ain’t ready for all the shit that goes down in my line of work. You ain’t no ‘ride-or-die’ chick. You ain’t that chick that can sit through interrogation and not rat. You’re not that chick that can go deliver a package or hold shit down if I get locked up. I mean, would you even know how to bail a nigga out?”

  Calico’s words cut me deep. If any other nigga would have said this to me, they would have certainly found themselves alone, but his words, however harsh, were true.

  Although I had a gold-digger’s eye and could easily categorize a man based on his wealth, I had never been “a gangster’s girl.” Frankly, because dope-boy money had never been long enough for a bitch like me, but I wasn’t gon’ let this nigga know that. Something about Calico was different from those cats, particularly because he was the nigga giving out the orders and not taking them. But, besides that, I think I was really starting to like him.

  I didn’t want him to know that his words affected me in the least, so I did what any bitch would. I put on a front.

  “You’ve just proven I am good at what I do. Don’t let the image fool you. That’s why I’m never suspect, because even though I know the game inside and out, I look like Miss Corporate America,” I lied.

  “That’s hard to believe, but I’m not the one to call anybody a liar. Trust me, time will tell.”

  “It sure will.”

  “It’s more to it than just standing by your man side though. You gotta always be on point. You can’t be distracted by any nigga that pass you in a shopping center in a drop-top Benz. I bet you know how many karats were in my ear,” Calico said, proving he did know the first time he sa
w me. “You tricked me!” I yelled, shocked that he really remembered that first glance.

  “No, I didn’t. You cut me off. You were too eager. You moved too fast. That could fuck you up in the game. But a real ride-or-die chick would know that, right?” Calico tried to make a point.

  “Whatever! Finish what you were saying.”

  “All I got a chance to say is, it was a Friday, the day I saw you at the bar. If you would have let me finished, I would have continued by saying, you passed me as you chatted away on your cell phone going downtown, probably on your way to the nail shop.”

  “And how do you know I was on my way to the nail shop?”

  “Observation, another skill that comes with the territory.”

  “Okay, okay! Maybe I’m not ‘married to the game,’ but I can be that chick by your side, and I’m not afraid to prove it.”

  “Action speaks louder than words. Don’t talk about it, be about it.”

  On that note I was ready to end the call. “Enough said.”

  Chapter 6

  “Juggling Chicks”

  Touch

  Damn, I ain’t even trying to see this bitch, I thought as I rounded the corner, heading toward my crib. I had been chilling at Ciara’s crib for the last week and a half, so I wouldn’t have to kill a bitch, but since I had run out of clothes, I had to come back. Although I thought it was gonna be hell staying with Ciara, shit turned out all right. We had a few arguments, but all in all, it was cool being around my girls. For a split second, I actually thought about really getting back with her, but that shit flew out the window as soon as it entered my mind.

  “Yes, sir!” I said to myself as I put the car in park and jumped out.

  The house was empty. Everything was in the same order that it was left that night I fought with ol’ girl. Tired of her constant bullshit, I packed her shit and told her to come through for it. She was trying to act different on the phone, being all calm and cute, telling me that she’ll be by in twenty minutes. While I waited, I tried to straighten up.

  When she got to the house, she pleaded with me to forgive her, but like I said once before, I don’t go back. She finally realized my mindset when she found her stuff in two plastic garbage bags. I told her that I had something to do, so we needed to make this quick.