Brick (Double Dippin')

by Allison Hobbs

  Brick had paid for two days when he checked in. More money down the drain. He shook his head, thinking about all the money he’d been wasting on hotel rooms. And this time, he’d checked in using his real name. Stupid!

  I should’ve used an alias when I checked into that joint. I gotta bounce; it’s too easy for the cops to find me if I stay there. I’ma shoot through the spot real quick; get my shit and tell shawty, deuces. She seems like a nice girl, and I feel bad for having to run out on her. But I ain’t got no choice. It’s time for us to part ways.

  Speeding to the hotel, Brick zoomed through yellow lights, only tapping lightly on the brakes whenever he approached a stop sign.

  CHAPTER 18

  I can’t keep my mind off the strippers that I wanna get with.

  It’s not the way I planned it. I’m not having a big welcome home party at a strip club with all my homies drinking and getting lap dances.

  Being stuck in this house with Evette is getting on my nerves. Don’t get me wrong; I like that she goes along with all my freakish ideas. She cooks, cleans. I believe she’d even give me a tongue bath, if I let her.

  I shouldn’t complain because I’m treated like a king in this piece. But Evette’s money situation isn’t up-to-par. After she bought me some clothes and gave me pocket money, she’s pretty much tapped out until her next payday.

  In the meantime, a nigga needs to buy weed on a daily basis. I like to chill at the corner bar, and hang out with my new friends—Blake and Munch—a couple of West Philly dudes I met at the barbershop a few days ago.

  Munch is a bulky nigga. He’s built solid—not chiseled like me. Blake is a light-skinned, curly-headed, pretty boy. Lean frame. Blake ain’t nothing but a featherweight, but he thinks he’s God’s gift to women.

  So far, both Blake and Munch have been cool with me, sharing their weed and liquor. But how long can I keep freeloading off these dudes? If Evette wants to keep me interested, she should be figuring out a way to get her money right. She’s gon’ have to step it up, and do better by her man.

  I didn’t tell Blake and Munch too much about my past, but they do know I just got out of the pen. I didn’t tell them I did a long stretch. If I give out that kind of information, they’re liable to start snooping into my past.

  When I admitted I’ve never been to a strip club, they both fell out laughing, thinking it was hilarious.

  It’s not my style to deliberately make myself a laughing stock. There’s a method to my madness. If I confessed about never seeing or touching a stripper, they’d volunteer to take me to a strip club and even treat me to some lap dances.

  So here I am, wearing the new sneakers and new clothes Evette bought me, waiting for Blake to roll up in his Chevy. The whole time I was locked up, I always envisioned myself riding around in a Benz, a Beemer, or an Escalade…something fly and luxurious. But what the fuck. Riding in a Chevy is better than riding the bus.

  Everybody from my old ’hood is frontin’ on me. It’s all good, though. I’ma be up one of these days.

  The car horn honks and I run out of the crib. I lock the door with the set of keys Evette gave me. Shit, I’m liable to put her ass out now that I got my own house keys.

  “Get in the back, Munch,” Blake says when I approach the car. Munch doesn’t hesitate. He gets right out and hops in the back.

  I’m riding shotgun while my man, Blake, is steering with his knees while he rolls up a blunt. Hanging with these niggas, I’ma have to develop a taste for tobacco leaves; they don’t fuck with rolling paper at all.

  Blake passes me the blunt. Power 99 is blasting from the speakers and I’m smoking, enjoying the city sights…feeling nice.

  “Yo, that ain’t your personal; pass that blunt back here,” Munch says from the back.

  “My bad.” I turn to pass the blunt to Munch.

  “Hell, no. Don’t let that nigga put his mouth on my weed,” Blake intervenes.

  Now I’m in a quandary. I’m holding the blunt in mid-air, not knowing what to do.

  “Man, why you always drawlin’?” Munch asks.

  “Hmph! We both know where your mouth been.”

  “The same place your mouth been.”

  I shrug my shoulders and help myself to another puff, figuring I’ll keep on smoking until these niggas come to some kind of conclusion.

  “That’s bullshit. Nigga, I told you last week, I’m not smoking behind you no more.”

  “You smoked behind me last night, so why you frontin’?” Munch argues.

  “I must have been so high that I forgot about my new rules,” Blake suggested.

  “You frontin’ for Kaymar.”

  “I’m not frontin’ for nobody. I’m keeping it one hunnit.”

  Now, I’m high as a kite and curious about what they’re talking about. “What’s wrong with his mouth? Why can’t he smoke some of this shit?”

  “Because this nigga’s nasty.”

  “No, I’m not,” Munch grumbles half-heartedly.

  Blake reaches for the blunt, so I have to give it up. He puffs and turns around and blows a cloud of smoke in Munch’s direction. “Get high off that,” Blake says, laughing.

  “That ain’t even funny,” Munch complains.

  “I’ma tell you what’s not funny,” Blake says in a serious tone. “It’s not funny when people all over Philly know all about your bad habit.”

  I’m wondering if Munch is a heroin addict. And did he get something off a dirty needle? “Yo, somebody needs to tell me something,” I blurt out. “No disrespect, Munch, but I don’t wanna smoke behind you either, if you got that monster!”

  “I ain’t got no HIV.”

  “Oh, okay,” I mutter, feeling relieved.

  “Tell him whatchu got,” Blake prods.

  “I ain’t got nothing!”

  “Yeah, aye. Tell him what you had.”

  “It ain’t his business.”

  “What did he have?” I ask, urgently. These two niggas is crazy. Both of ’em are starting to remind me of the backwoods lunatics you see in horror films.

  “Munch got his name from munching on a whole lot of different pussies—”

  “Say whaaat?” I turn all the way around and gawk at Munch.

  “Not a whole lot of different ones,” Munch says to his defense.

  “Eating three or four strange pussies a day is a whole lot. Nasty ass!”

  “You don’t think it’s nasty when I’m doing it for you.”

  Huh! I look from Munch to Blake, thinking these weirdo niggas are really on that shit! I’m seriously considering bailing out of this car. Fuck the strippers. I’ll check them out on my own dime. I can go to the strip club by myself as soon as Evette gets paid.

  Blake passes me the blunt, but now I’m leery about his and Munch’s homo activities, and I refuse to take it. “Nah, I don’t want no more. I’m good,” I tell him.

  “Man, don’t listen to Munch. He don’t do nothing he don’t wanna do.”

  I lift an eyebrow. “Y’all homos?”

  “Hell, no!” Blake explodes into laughter. “I bring Munch along whenever I need him to handle the foreplay on the bitches I be fucking. That’s how we get down.”

  I’m still confused, but extremely intrigued. “What does Munch do?” I crane my neck and give Munch another questioning look. His expression is rather sheepish, but I also see a trace of pride. Now, I’m finally getting the full picture. Munch is a little slow. Mentally delayed. And I don’t know why Blake is even fucking with the bull, but I don’t roll with niggas that used to ride the little school bus.

  “Munch has a bad pussy-eating habit. He’s addicted. You know what I’m saying?”

  “Nah, whatchu mean?” I respond.

  “I mean, Munch gotta eat pussy all the time. He craves it.”

  I peep Munch again, and that twisted son of a bitch is in the backseat smiling and nodding his head about his nasty addiction.

  “Munch is my man from ever since we were kids. So I look ou
t for him. Every now and then, I run across an extra freaky bitch, and I convince her to let Munch give her some oral before I fuck her. By the time he’s done slurping on that pussy, my dick gon’ slide right in!”

  CHAPTER 19

  Now my interest is piqued. My wheels are spinning. I don’t know how I feel about Munch and Blake’s arrangement, but the idea is stirring something inside me. I decide to ask some more questions. “So what does Munch get out of the arrangement? Does he get sloppy seconds after you smash?”

  Blake frowns and shakes his head. “Munch don’t care about fucking.”

  “While Blake is smashing, I jack off,” Munch volunteers.

  Blake nods his head. “See, I told you, man. Munch and I ain’t into any homo behavior. The problem that I have with Munch is that he done went buck wild with his oral actions. Women all over the city are passing his number around. On the weekends, when the clubs let out, bitches be hitting Munch up like crazy. All of ’em wanting they pussies ate before they call it a night. And Munch don’t even make the bitches come to him. He goes out of his way…hooking up with females in the parking lot of the club they just left. One night he gobbled up three pussies out of one car, and four pussies out of another.”

  “Umph!” I thought I was twisted, but I ain’t never heard of no shit like this.

  “And Munch don’t get nothing out of the deal. He don’t charge the bitches… He don’t even jack his shit off. Just eating one stank pussy after another. After them hoes cum, they drive off and leave him with a hard dick and no satisfaction.”

  Munch is awfully quiet; he’s not defending himself at all. So I feel compelled to ask Munch about his mental status. Once again, I turn and look in the back seat of the car.

  “Yo, I ain’t passing judgment on you, bro’,” I say to Munch. “But why you letting hoes take advantage of you like that?”

  “Ain’t nobody taking advantage of me. I’m satisfying my oral fixation. Simple as that.”

  “Going around eating pussy is crazy, man. You got to be a little slow. You know…half a school bus kind of slow. Are you a lil’ bit retarded?”

  “Ain’t nothing slow about me,” Munch says with an attitude.

  “Munch is an intelligent mufucka,” Blake pipes in. “But he letting his addiction rule his life. Now he done caught a venereal disease in his mouth.” Blake tosses a blameful look at Munch.

  I grimace. Both these niggas are weirdoes.

  “I got treated for that. My mouth is clean as the board of health,” Munch brags.

  “So what! You gotta be careful where you put your mouth, man.”

  Munch rolls his eyes. “Nigga, stop frontin’. Don’t act like you don’t eat pussy.”

  “Yeah, I do. Ain’t nothing wrong with giving oral. But not all the time. Man, all I’m saying is that you need to cut back. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “Aye. I can do that.”

  By the time we get to the strip club, my shit is harder than concrete inside my pants. Here it is, broad daylight outside, yet it’s dimly lit in the strip club, giving it an after midnight kind of vibe. These bitches up in here are running around flaunting naked tits and asses. I ain’t never seen nothing like this before.

  I got a strong sex drive. Truth. You can’t bring me in a place like this and expect me to be satisfied with merely looking.

  “Why they showing tits and asses, but their pussies is all covered up?” I ask Blake.

  “No nudity,” he explains. “Pick the shawty you want to give you a lap dance, and I’ll pay her a lil’ extra to let you rub on her pussy.”

  “Man, I don’t wanna rub nothing. I wanna fuck. And not just one stripper. I wanna fuck all of ’em.” My voice comes out louder than I anticipated.

  “Whoa, my nigga. You sound crazy.”

  “I’m just saying, man…this is like window shopping without no money. It’s real frustrating. I didn’t come out of the crib to get worked up for nothing.”

  Blake nodded in understanding. “Some of these chicks will let you pay to play, but not until they finish their shift. They don’t fuck right here inside the club.”

  I’m getting very aggravated. My dick is bricked and I can’t use it on none of these bitches. This is fucked up!

  A dark-skinned shawty with a nice donk switches past me. “Yo, chocolate ass, come over here and let me wax you,” I blurt, rubbing on my dick. The girl turns her nose up and keeps it moving.

  “Relax, man. Don’t be insulting the strippers. I’ma treat you to a lap dance to calm you down.” He beckons a stripper with a cute little butt. “Give my man a dance,” he tells her. “Treat him extra special, aye?”

  The stripper smiles and positions herself in my lap. As soon as she starts swiveling around, I immediately ejaculate. But she can’t feel the moisture through my jeans. She keeps on working that ass and my Johnson rises to the occasion, again.

  By the time the song is over, I bust twice.

  I go to the bathroom and clean up as best I can with paper towels. When I come out, Munch is getting a lap dance from a white chick and Blake is focused on his cell. Looking down, he’s tapping on the screen and smiling.

  I don’t like the way people act nowadays. Everybody’s always fucking with their cell phones. All this text messaging and shit is getting out of control.

  “So how’d you like your first experience at the strip club?” Blake asks as he puts his phone inside his pocket.

  “It was cool, man. Thanks,” I say as I cut my eye at this chocolate shawty with the extra big ass. I wanna get a dance from her next. I wanna cum on that chocolate ass.

  “Me and Munch are about to be out. You staying here or do you want me to drop you off at your crib,” Blake says.

  “We just got here!” I’m shocked that Blake is ready to bounce. I’ll stay if he lets me hold some money, but I can’t afford lap dances at ten dollars a pop.

  “I know, man, but me and Munch gotta go holla at this chick up in the Northeast.”

  “You’re taking Munch with you?” I frown, recalling what he said about Munch and his nasty ways.

  “Yeah, man. That’s how we do. We cleared up our misunderstanding. Munch is cool. He went solo for a while and he paid the price. That bull knows I look out for him. He got that habit, but I know how to keep him in check. When Munch fucks with who I fuck with, he ain’t gotta worry about picking up any diseases.”

  I nod my head in understanding, but my mind is running a mile a minute. See, I wanna get involved in the freak shit they’re into, but I don’t wanna sound like I’m begging. I could use a nigga like Munch at my crib. But something tells me that Blake isn’t willing to loan Munch out.

  I’ma have to figure out a way to lure Munch over to the crib without Blake finding out.

  CHAPTER 20

  Shawty wasn’t anywhere to be found when Brick got back to the hotel. Good! He could tell that she was growing attached to him. He was on the run now, and the only way to travel was solo. Brick was relieved he didn’t have to see the disappointment on her face when he told her it was time to cut the cord.

  There were only a few items to scoop up; everything else was stuffed inside the duffle bag. From the bathroom counter, he gathered his razors, shaving cream, toothpaste, deodorant, and other odds and ends. Next he surveyed the bedroom to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind.

  On his way out, he spotted a pen and pad that was stamped with the hotel’s logo. Thinking about what to write, he squinted up at the ceiling. He was going to start off with an apology for leaving Anya hanging, but decided to keep the message short and to the point. The crib is paid for. You can stay here ’til checkout time tomorrow. Take care of yourself. Brick

  He tore the sheet of paper off the pad and placed it on top of the remote, which Anya was sure to grab when she returned.

  Stirring outside the door told him that shawty was back. Damn! Brick balled up the note and tossed it in the waste bin. He’d have to deliver the news in person.

 
; Anya broke into a surprised smile when she saw Brick. “Hey! I thought you were at work.”

  She’d taken off the bandana. Her hair was short-cropped and slicked back with gel. Cute. And her face was even prettier than he’d realized. Shawty shouldn’t have any trouble finding a man. Brick hoped she’d raise her standards and get herself a good man—with some balls. Not another punk-ass, wannabe pimp, like Cash Money.

  Feeling guilty, Brick wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Yo, I’m outta here. The room is paid for until tomorrow. Checkout time is eleven. Stay outta trouble.” Brick hefted the heavy duffle bag over his shoulder, and crossed the room.

  “Why are you leaving? I thought you said I could chill with you for a while.”

  “Change of plans.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Brick was instantly annoyed. “I don’t owe you no explanation about nothing. I got problems, and I can’t have you tagging along. You’re a nice girl and everything, but the way I see it, you’re unnecessary baggage.”

  “I know you’re on some kind of mission—trying to touch Smash Hitz.” She shook her head. “That’s the major league. Do you really think you can get close to someone of his stature?”

  Brick frowned in irritation. “You know too much already. I don’t like people in my business. Got me feeling uneasy.” Brick’s face darkened as he stepped toward her. “Take some advice, lil mama, stop running your mouth. Forget you ever met me.”

  “You can trust me, Brick.”

  “I don’t trust anyone.”

  “Last night, I was thinking about my problems and from the little that I know about yours…I think we can help each other.”

  Brick looked at her like she was crazy. “What can you do for me?”

  “I can finance your trip to Miami.”

  Brick gave a humorless laugh. “Yeah, right. You’re one step away from the women’s shelter, but you want me to believe you have enough money to get me to Miami?”