Four Degrees of Heat

by Rochelle Alers, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, Brenda L. Thomas; Crystal Lacey Winslow

  “Kim, this is my friend Nicoli,” Joy said, introducing us.

  “It’s a pleasure meeting you,” she replied.

  “Thank you. So Joy tells me that you have a hookup at Lord & Taylor.”

  “Well, it’s not ahookup . I have an employee discount and told Joy that she is welcome to use it.”

  “I was hoping that my homegirl could use it, too,” Joy said.

  “Will you excuse me for a moment?” Kim said without responding to the question. She excused herself and rushed over to the sofa, where someone had spilled their drink.

  “She’s not gonna put me down,” I sulked.

  “Yes, she will. Watch,” Joy soothed.

  “I’m ready to leave. I only came for the discount,” I said.

  “Please, Nicoli, we can’t leave yet. Besides, Gangster is gonna be comin’.”

  “Gangster who?” I asked.

  “The rapper.”

  “Get out. You know how long I’ve wanted to meet him.”

  “I know. He should be comin’ soon. That’s Kim’s cousin.”

  “That’s hot. I’m not leavin’ here without his number,” I stated.

  After being at the party for five minutes, I was bored. This was an all-girl affair. They started talking about how bad men were, how they were no-good bastards, and so on. I guess this was some sort of bonding get-together. The kind that I must remind Joy to never take me to.

  “Come to find out that no-good motherfucker was fucking my best friend all along,” someone said. I didn’t catch her name, nor did I care to.

  “Then you must not be doing something right in the bedroom,” I said, and everyone gagged.

  “How do you presume to know what goes down in my bedroom? How do his actions automatically become my fault? Why am I to blame?” the girl retorted.

  “All I’m saying is that my man would never get down like that.”

  Everyone in the room erupted in laughter. Obviously they all belonged to the “My man is a dog” club. So I continued, “You ladies are acting immature. What the fuck is so funny?”

  “No, darling, you’re the one acting immature. How can you vouch for what a man will or won’t do? Everyone knows to ‘never say never.’ Especially when it comes to a man,” some chick stated.

  “Let me reiterate for those who may be having difficulty understanding my point. My man willnever fuck my best friend, associates, or any bitch. Not while we’re together. In fact, my best friend is here with me now. Joy, please let them know how my situation is going down at the moment.”

  Joy stepped up to the plate.

  “Nicoli is tellin’ it like it is. Word up. First off, we don’t fuck each other’s men. That’s a no-no. And her man is so into her right now, it’s crazy, yo. He just copped her the new CL 600. Right after that he come home with a hundred-thousand-dollar Piaget watch. Last week he bought her the Presidential Rolex she’s wearing now. And he cut off all his other bitches for her, and he hasn’t even known her for sixty days, yo,” she bragged.

  The whole room stared at me in amazement. They were all jealous; I could tell such things. Women usually get jealous when materialistic things are involved in any relationship. But I saved the best news for last.

  “My man, Black King, is loving me right now,” I said, letting them feel my fame. I was dating a celebrity.

  “Who’s your man?” A petite, light-skinned sister with dyed red hair and sleepy eyes said.

  “Black King, ya heard,” I said, real gangster-style.

  “Really? Interesting. I’ve been sleeping with Black for over a year now. He just bought me my Rolex as well.”

  The room was silent as she flashed the exact same Rolex watch I had on. Then everyone burst out in laughter. They were laughing so hard, tears were rolling down some of their faces, but through all this I heard nothing. All I did was concentrate on this bitch. I focused on her small frame and weight. I can whip her ass, I thought. How dare this ho try to play me in front of all these chicks? Briefly I wished I had time to tie up my hair and put Vaseline on my face. That’s how we get down for combat in my ’hood. This was going to be an impromptu situation. We glared at each other, then, simultaneously, we both lunged at each other. Our hands locked in each other’s hair, and we both began pulling and scratching at each other’s faces. The crowd moved out the way to give us room to fight.

  “Break it up,” the homeowner said.

  “No. Let them fight,” someone yelled.

  We were going for blood.

  As we fell into the furniture, I could hear lamps crashing to the floor. Occasionally someone would try to intervene and break up the fight, but the agitated crowd would not allow it. They were watching us as intently as a man watches a Mike Tyson fight.

  Though this girl was somewhat smaller than me, she was more skilled in fighting. I knew she had me beat. She was throwing accurate punches that kept catching me in my face and neck. I reached up through the headlock she had me in and dug my nails in her face. She flipped me over, and I came crashing down on the floor with a loud thud, but I managed to pull her with me. She quickly hopped up like a bunny rabbit, but before she could stomp me out, Joy jumped in. Joy whipped on her like she had stolen something. Within seconds Joy pulverized that girl. She was screaming, “Why you gotta jump? Why you gotta jump?”

  “Shut the fuck up,” Joy responded.

  The way Joy beat that girl up, no one in the room wanted to break it up. They were too scared to touch Joy, afraid she might do them the same way.

  “Fuck her up, Joy! Fuck her up!” I kept yelling. I wanted Joy to kill her, I was so mad. Finally, Joy saw the blood she was after. She punched the girl in her nose, and blood squirted everywhere. That was enough.

  We left, or shall I say, were thrown out of the get-together. People were heckling us, calling us “ghetto.”

  The nerve of them.

  As soon as I got to my Mercedes, I called Black.

  “Yo, I just had a fight!”

  “What did I tell you about speaking like that?”

  “Oh, excuse me. I just had a fight.”

  “Why are you out in the street fighting and acting ghetto?” he scolded. There was that word again.

  “She jumped on me,” I lied.

  “Who?”

  “The girl you’re fucking!” I exploded.

  “What girl?” he calmly replied.

  “I don’t know her name.”

  “But you know that I’m fucking her? Nicoli, I got a lot of shit to do. Seventy-five percent of my day is committed to doing shit I don’t want to do to make this money. I don’t have time to sit here and listen to you act adolescent. I’m a grown man. And I thought that I was dealing with a lady. Not some hip-hop ghetto girl out in her ’hood fighting. I’m going to tell you this once. Anybody can fit in your shoes.”

  With that remark he hung up on me. I was devastated. What did it mean? I turned around to Joy, who was waiting intently for me to tell her what he’d said. Briefly, I thought about lying. But lying to my friends was not an option, so I started crying. I wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  “That shit was crazy. That stupid bitch is dumb, yo,” Joy stated.

  “Thanks for having my back, Joy. That little bitch was getting the best of me. I don’t know how I let that happen.”

  “You think she was tellin’ the truth about Black?”

  “I don’t know. I tried to ask him, but he just shut me down. He doesn’t even care that I was just fighting over him.”

  “He cares. And he’s scared right now. He thinks you gonna leave him, so he’s tryin’ to act all cool ’n shit.”

  “He said, ‘Anybody can fit in your shoes.’ What does that mean?” I said while tears continued to stream down my cheeks.

  “I dunno. You shoulda said, ‘A size six Manolo Blahnik? I don’t think so.’ ”

  Joy made me laugh, which felt good, considering I felt like shit. I was humiliated at having been beaten up. And I was d
evastated that Black was seeing this other woman. Plus he was buying her shit. The same shit that he bought me. What was that all about?

  As if Joy had read my mind, she said, “Besides, he can buy a bitch a watch. That ain’t shit compared to what he doin’ for you. You the one livin’ up in his crib. She not. You the one he’s claimin’ as his girl. She not. And you’ve accomplished all of that in three weeks. Puh-leeze. She’s known him forever. I wouldn’t even sweat that.”

  “You’re right,” I agreed. But inside I was fuming.

  Then Joy said, “I’m so fuckin’ mad, though. I was really waitin’ around to speak to Kim about her hookin’ me up with a job in Lord & Taylor.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout gettin’ a job lately. Ever since my money mysteriously disappeared and I had to ask Jason to give it to me again, I started thinkin’ that maybe I should get a job. So I don’t have to keep dependin’ on mutherfuckers. Only I don’t have any experience, and I’m scared as hell to be interviewed, yo.”

  “Let me get this straight. We were there so you could beg for a job?”

  “Well, not beg. But I’m tired of countin’ niggas papah. I want my own shit.”

  “What about Gangster?”

  “Don’t be mad, but I just said that so you wouldn’t break out.”

  As Joy finished her sentence, an uncontrollable rage came upon me, and I lashed out at her.

  “You are the most pathetic person I’ve ever met. You have absolutely no pride. Here this girl was giving you an inch, and your ghetto ass wants a yard. What makes you think Lord & Taylor would hire someone like you? You can’t even speak in complete sentences. Sometimes I’m embarrassed that I’m even friends with you!”

  “Well, I—”

  “Shut up! You’re starting to irritate me.”

  “Yo, take me home,” Joy said. I could tell that her feelings were hurt, but I didn’t care. I was hurting, too. I was hurt about Black.

  “Yo, take me home,” I mimicked. I wanted to make her cry, but she didn’t.

  We sat in silence as I sped back into Brooklyn to drop Joy off. I don’t know what was on her mind, but I was thinking about the confrontation I was going to have with Black. He’d never seen me lose my temper, and I was sure he wouldn’t like me when I was angry.

  Chapter 12

  When I got home that night, Black wasn’t there. It looked like he’d gone out as well. Wet towels were on the floor in the bathroom, and his clothes were thrown all over our bed. I stripped naked, went out on the terrace, and instantly fell asleep.

  Shortly after one in the afternoon, I awoke. Black still wasn’t home. I was furious. I called his cellular telephone, but it went straight into voice mail, which meant he had it off. Then I paged his two-way. Still no response.

  As the sun set, I could hear Black’s keys jiggling in the lock. Quickly, I shut off the television and lights. I was in the living room, and it was pitch black. When he clicked on the lights, I startled him.

  “Hi, baby-girl. Have you eaten yet?” he casually asked.

  “Motherfucker, are you stupid?” I exploded.

  “What?” he asked incredulously.

  “How dare you disrespect me like this?”

  “First off, stop yelling in my home,” he threatened.

  “I’ll yell all the fuck I want!” I challenged.

  “Your behavior is a perfect example of why I don’t date young girls like you. They can’t express themselves without acting immature.”

  I stared at Black for a long moment. Then, nonchalantly, I said, “I don’t think this is working out. I think I’ll take my things and leave. Yeah, how ’bout that.”

  “You’re leaving me?” Black laughed as if I had amused him.

  “That’s what I said,” I called out to him. Then I let him watch as I casually strolled about his apartment, gathering my items.

  When I’d grabbed my last item and was heading out his front door, Black intervened, “Baby-girl, I’m so sorry if I hurt you,” he said and gently kissed me on my mouth. He continued, “Okay. Since you want to know, her name is Tracy. And I was sleeping with her off and on for a year. Even after we got together, I still continued to sleep with her.”

  “You don—”

  “Last night, I went over her house in a rage. When you told me she put her hands on you, I lost it. You are too pretty to be out in these streets fighting. You’re a lady. I told her don’t she ever try and disrespect you again. She pleaded with me to stay, saying she wanted to make love. We slept together, but after that, I ended the relationship.”

  At this point, I really wasn’t looking for an explanation. I wanted him to grovel. I was already over the whole scene. But I decided to play the wounded girlfriend, as I expect he wanted me to be.

  “How could you do this to me?” I whispered, letting my voice crack in between words. Then I put my head down as if I were about to start sobbing.

  Black wrapped his hands around my back and pulled me in close for a bear hug. He started rocking me back and forth, telling me how sorry he was and how he’d never cheat on me again. Then, just as I expected, he shifted the blame.

  “It’s just that I didn’t know if you loved me or my money. You’re out partying all the time. I hardly get to see you. When I want to touch you, you pull away…” He let his voice trail off.

  I really was tickled with this whole scene. First off, when did I ever say that I loved Black? Second, all we ever do is fuck, and I’venever pulled away. He must have me mixed up with the next chick. You know, men do that sometimes. But I remained mute and didn’t say a word. Truthfully, I rather respected his honesty. I mean, after your man comes home from staying out all night and tells you that he’s been fucking, what else can you say?

  “So promise me you’re going to stop running the streets,” Black demanded.

  “Okay,” I replied, less than enthusiastically.

  “I’m serious, Nicoli. You out there running the street plays upon my quiet time.”

  “I understand. I’ll slow down. I promise.”

  After Black finished talking just to entertain himself, he needed to get his fuck on again. He took my hand and led me into the bathroom and turned on the shower. We both got undressed and entered the steaming water.

  The hot water cascaded down my back and massaged my shoulders and the nape of my neck. I let the water drench my hair and face as Black gently licked my earlobes. We started kissing passionately, as if we hadn’t made love in years. Black sucked my nipples and neck, but that was the extent of our foreplay. Black sat down on the stool inside the shower, and I immediately mounted him. I rode Black aggressively as he moaned in pleasure. We were kissing, biting, and licking each other passionately.

  “Yes, Daddy…fuck me…fuck me with your big dick,” I moaned.

  Black pulled out before either of us came. He stood me up and turned me around. Black then inserted his finger into my anus. I was curious—this was something else I wanted to try, but hadn’t found a man brave enough to venture back there. As Black’s fingers darted in and out, I encouraged him by moaning and sticking my ass out. I had my hands on the shower walls for support.

  Black grabbed the lubricant, a bottle of which we had in every crevice of the house, and put it on my anus. Then, as gently as his big dick would allow, he entered me. The sensation was exquisite. I yelled out in pleasure mixed with pain. Our slippery bodies were one as he pumped in and out.

  “You…like…this?” Black moaned. “You like this big dick?”

  “Oh, yes…,” I breathed. “Fuck me harder!”

  “Harder?” he asked as he increased his pace.

  “Harder!” I commanded.

  “Harder!” he said through clenched teeth as he mercilessly rammed his dick in my anus. His strong hands groped my breasts from behind as we both came in unison. It was the most exquisite feeling I’d experienced.

  We both stood still for a long moment, then Black slowly removed h
is penis. He took the washcloth and gently tried to clean me off back there. A small amount of blood was there, and it stung a little. I took this opportunity to act like a baby. I said, “Ouch-ch-ch-ch, Daddy, it hurts…you’re hurting me,” then I pouted a little.

  Black carried me to our bed and tucked me in. He kissed my cheek and snuggled in behind me.

  “I love you,” he said for the second time in our relationship. And for the second time, I said nothing.

  Chapter 13

  Idecided to make up with Joy. She’d been mad at me since the night of the fight. I was long over the argument, and since things were going great in my life, I called her.

  “Hey girl, do you want to go out tonight?”

  “Not really,” she said stubbornly.

  “Okay. Fine,” I said and began to hang up.

  “Wait. Where did you have in mind?” she quickly said.

  “Club Bue.”

  “That sounds cool. Come get me. I’ll be ready.”

  Tonight I decided to look exotic. I wet my red hair and let it air-dry. My hair curled up into a curly Afro. I put on a pair of large hoop earring, red lip gloss, and blue eye shadow to accent my blue eyes. I grabbed a pair of vintage jeans, a pair of cowboy boots, and a tank top. On my wrist I put on several sterling silver bracelets, and I was ready.

  When I arrived to pick up Joy, to my dismay we looked strangely similar. She had on a pair of vintage jeans, a tank top, and square-toed heels. She’d gotten her long hair set into Shirley Temple curls, and she had on a pair of the latest Chanel shades.

  I contemplated on what I could say to make her go back upstairs and change her clothing, but nothing reasonable came to mind.

  “Wassup, playa playaa?” she said, her husky voice sounding unusually high-pitched.

  “Nada. I’m so ready to get my party on.”

  “You and me both.”

  We arrived at Club Bue shortly after one in the morning. It was packed outside as well as inside. In the nearby parking lot was a bevy of luxury cars; Mercedes, Lexus, Bentley, BMW, and Escalade. It took us thirty solid minutes to get in, but once we were inside, the place was bumping all the hottest songs. The DJ was mixing R. Kelly with Jay-Z, and I flew to the dance floor.