Sparking up the blunt and taking a hit, he said, “Yep, born in raised in Jo Johnson projects ‘til they tore them down. Then I moved on campus and now I’m back out east.”
Campus? Did he mean like a jail campus or college campus? I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he was talking about college.
“What college did you go to?” He had this I really don’t want to have this conversation look on his face.
“I graduated from TSU with a degree in criminology. Naw, I ain’t doing shit with it because I make more money as a criminal than studying them, and let’s leave it at that,” It was a touchy subject, but at least he was educated.
I inhaled the blunt he rolled and instantly realized it was different than the weed he sold me. It was Cali mid-grade.
“Why didn’t you sell me any of this?” He thought it was funny and started laughing.
“I don’t get high on my own supply, got to keep the best for myself. If you are really interested in getting some of this, I might be able to get you an ounce for $200. Ju st let me know.”
The price of weed in the south is almost double the west coast. If I trusted any of those sorry ass guys from my old neighborhood, I would tell them to come down here, set up shop, and make a killing. But, why should I look out for them when they never looked out for me?
Flipping through the channels in hopes to find another good movie, Dre asked me to go back to that new Will Smith movie where everyone turned into zombie-like creatures and he was trying to find a cure for them.
“That movie isn’t free; it costs $4.99. That’s Pay-Per-View and you don’t pay the bill to view anything.” He stood up and handed me a 20 dollar bill. “Let’s watch it. I'm a go grab my Remy out the car since you ain't offered me nothing to drink with your rude, Californian ass. Then you can order it.”
Dre had nerve and I was feeling it, but who invited him to crash my movie/smoke night? “So, I take it you assumed I’m okay with you chilling with me because we smoked a blunt together?” He walked out of the door like I didn’t say anything to him.
I watched him out the window grab a brown bag out of his truck, roll his car windows up, turn the alarm on, and head back up.
There was a delay before he walked back in. Peeping out my peephole, hoping to see him this time, I still wasn’t able to see him. I cracked the door and looked out.
He was outside on the walkway, making phone call after phone call. I could barely hear what he was saying over the TV, so I turned it down.
When I made it back to the door, I caught the end of his walkie-talkie conversation with some guy named Mike. It went like this:
Mike: “So, you ain't going to the club?”
Dre: “Naw, something came up. I'm a get with you tomorrow, though.”
Mike: “This ain't like you; you sure you straight?”
Dre: “I’m good; just make sure you count that money. If he ain't got the whole $1500, the deal is off.”
Mike: “I got you, but what you want me to tell Tasha?”
Dre: “Tell her I got a run to make and I might not make it back to the Ville ‘til the morning.”
Mike: “All right.”
It sounds like he had some business to handle at the club tonight but decided to stay here to watch a movie with me. I wondered who Tasha was.
I went to the kitchen and made us a glass of ice so it wouldn’t look like I was eavesdropping. Then, I grabbed my bottle of white wine and met up with him at the couch.
“To answer your question, yes, I think I’m chilling with you tonight. I don’t feel like the club scene and I ain’t sat back and watched a movie in a minute. If you got somebody coming by, let me know and I’ll bounce.” I shook my head and handed him his glass.
What is he doing to me? I’ve lost my bark and bite since he has been here. I needed to say something. “I didn’t really want to watch a movie alone tonight, so it’s cool you decided to stay.”
What in the hell was that, Savannah? It sounded too sensitive; try again, girl, damn! “Plus, I’ve been wanting to see this movie and been refusing to pay for it, so thanks for the 20 bucks, and it wouldn’t hurt if you rolled up another blunt. I would offer to match you, but my supplier sold me some bullshit.” Now, that’s better, girl. Can’t believe I’m coaching myself on how to handle this man.
I broke down a cigar and handed it to him. While he rolled up, I ordered the movie and went to grab a few pillows from my bed for my back.
I noticed he was watching me. Not in an untrusting way, but as if he was staring at my butt. When I came back, he was smoking and watching the movie.
We sat in silence for about 30 minutes and then the alert on his phone went off. He checked the number then and put it back down. Five minutes or so later, his phone was ringing off the hook.
There must have been 10 calls back to back that he just ignored. Finally, a woman’s voiced chirped through on his walkie-talkie.
“Dre, where are you? Why are you not answering my calls?” He looked at me as if he thought I would say something and then grabbed his phone.
“I told you I had business to handle tonight; what’s up?” The woman wasted no time on her response.
“My mama got the baby so I thought I’d come to the club and surprise you, but Mike said you went somewhere else. Where you at?” He looked at me again.
“I had to run to Kentucky. I’ll see you in the morning.” An unrelieved and disappointed voice said, “Umm hmm, okay,” and hung up.
Before he tried to explain, I looked at him and said, “That ain't none of my business.” He seemed to relax and got back into the movie again.
Who was I fooling? I wanted to know the details of his relationship with the woman on the other end of the phone.
Was that the Tasha his boy Mike spoke of earlier? It didn’t matter to me anyway, but it would be nice if he offered the information.
Not only was I high, but now I was drunk. I had drank the whole 750ml bottle myself and now I had to pee.
I tried to get up and go to the bathroom without him noticing I was intoxicated, but falling back down after standing up didn’t help me hide it at all.
“I got you, Savannah.” Grabbing me by my waist, he asked, “Where you trying to go?”
I pointed to the bathroom. He led me there and then closed the door behind me. I used the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and started washing my hands when the door flew open.
“You ready to get back on the couch?” He was there to help me. “Look, if you don’t mind, I'm a crash on your floor until you sober up some. It was funny as hell when you just fell, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Was he sober? The Remy bottle was empty, too, and we had smoked three blunts within two hours. I almost applauded him for being concerned until he admitted my fall brought him laughter. However, I needed the help and I wasn’t ready for him to leave, anyway. Drunk and all, I was getting some dick from him tonight.
“I have a two bedroom; you can get the guest bedroom, if you like.”
He agreed to sleep in the guest bedroom, but wanted to watch ESPN before calling it a night.
“Damn, the Cavs got put out the playoffs again. LeBron can’t do it by himself.” Is he a LeBron James fan? Okay, I’ve heard enough!
“No, he’s not Kobe.”
That seemed to spark up conversation all over again. We went back and forth over the players’ stats, teammates and coaches. We must have spent an additional hour talking about the league in general and all the changes that have been made over the last 15 years.
He argued me down that Iverson’s crossover was not a carry. I slipped up and told him I played ball and got the call placed on me every time I did it.
“You played? Who did you play for and what position?” I didn’t answer; instead, I sparked up a conversation about Penny Hardaway to throw him off course.
The conversation seemed to sober us up and we decided to smoke one more blunt, which was not a good idea.
&nb
sp; The talk of basketball alone was enough to get me wet but, to add weed to the equation, made it worse. Drunken, I told him how all the basketball talk had turned me on and how I’ve wanted to do nasty things to him since I had met him. I became dominant and informed him that he was giving up the dick whether he liked it or not.
I’ve always had a potty mouth, but tried to contain it around people I didn’t know. But there was something about Dre that made me feel relaxed and comfortable enough to be myself.
I don’t remember all the details of how I let it all out, but I do remember inviting him to sleep in my bed with me if he wanted a sample of those nasty things. I was the aggressor in the beginning, but he soon took the torch from me and put out my flame.
“It’s something about you, too, that got a nigga wanting to see what you’re about; but, I ain’t no petty ass nigga, so I'm a wait ‘til you’re sober to get that sample. I do wanna lay with you tonight. I don’t get no sleep where I stay ‘cause I ain’t comfortable and I’ve been comfortable ‘round you all night. I’m not shooting you down, beautiful; just taking a rain check.”
Did he just turn me down out of respect for me? I’m lost for words. I don’t know if I’m happy or pissed off about it.
I took my shirt and shorts off and got into the bed. He joined me in boxers and a wife beater. He placed my head on his chest and was out like a light.
Chapter 4: So Typical
In the morning, I woke up to an empty bed, but could hear the woman’s voice from last night in my living room.
“So, how long you gon’ be in Texas? Why can’t you send Mike on the run? I’m so tired of you always traveling; I wish you was back in jail. At least you would stay in one damn place, Dre!”
In the sexiest morning voice I’ve ever heard in my life, he said, “Damn, you want a nigga to go to jail, huh? Look, I’ll see you Monday. Kiss my son and tell him Daddy love him. I’m done talking to yo' stupid ass.”
I heard his phone power off and him start walking back to my bedroom. He was still in his boxers and beater when he walked back into the room.
“Good morning,” I said, to let him know I was up. “Good morning, Miss Savannah, did you sleep well?” He asked, while pointing to the wet spot on his t-shirt that I must have made drooling on it.
“I’m sorry; I guess I did.” I was blushing so hard my cheeks started hurting.
“Throw on some sweats and a t-shirt and let’s go have breakfast, beautiful.”
He put on his clothes from last night and went downstairs to his car and came back up with a black duffle bag.
He removed a facecloth and toothbrush and began brushing his teeth. I joined him in the restroom and brushed mine.
Looking at him, I said, “I’m sorry about last night; I didn’t mean to say all that stuff to you.”
Rinsing his mouth out, he said, “I was hoping you did mean it,” with a smile.
I dressed quickly and we headed out the door. I suggested we go in my car since I was more familiar with the area. He agreed, then grabs my car keys and says he is driving. We pulled into Waffle House.
“Dre, I don’t eat here. It doesn’t look safe and it is nowhere near having two stars, yet alone five.”
He shook his head. “You gon’ eat here today.” After five minutes of debating, he won and we walked in and sat on stools.
He ordered for the both of us. Not even five minutes later, our food came. He prayed over it and fed me my first spoon of smothered and covered hash browns. I was shocked at how good they were.
“So, since we slept together, I think it’s time you tell me more about yourself and you can start off with telling me who that woman was that called last night.”
He ate two more bites of his raisin toast and then began talking. He told me it was his son’s mother. They had been dating for two years and his son was now one year old. The love had gone, but he still cared and took care of her as if it never left.
He tried to end it many times but, whenever he does, she cuts him out his son’s life, so he plays the role to see his son.
The heartbreaker for me was that they lived together; he had in-house pussy. He didn’t want his son to grow up without him and applying for full custody wouldn’t be a smart thing to do in his line of work.
He went further to tell me that they met while he was in jail. She had written and visited him for two years before they hooked up. She refused to start a relationship with him behind bars.
Sounds like a smart woman; there is no way I would be faithful to a man that was behind bars. I’m not holding it down while a man is locked up. I would be dating somebody else before his first court date.
After paying the bill, he asked where the nearest grocery store was. I directed him to Kroger and when we walked in, he asked if I liked seafood. I said, “I love it.” He spent $70 on lobster tails and shrimps and then grabbed a few other items.
“So, I take it you will be here for dinner?”
He took my face in his hand and said, “I’m hoping to be here for two dinners and another breakfast.”
My blood started running hot. I had never spent this much time with a man I didn’t know before and all common sense flew out the door. I was enjoying his company and glad he was enjoying mine.
I had only received this type of attention from a man after we had sex. If he was like this now, I know he would be even better after I gave him some of the goods.
We were talking politics when his phone rang. He listened briefly and then yelled, “What the hell you mean? I’m on my way.”
On the ride back to my apartment, he said he had to go handle some business and would be back. I felt like breaking his phone. I pretended to understand, but I really didn’t. I parked my car and carried the bags up as he drove 50 mph out of my complex.
I tried to guess what the other person had said to him on the other end of the phone, but had no clue of what it could have been. When you live the lifestyle he lived, anything was possible.
I wonder if his baby mama made up something to get his attention. Women are good for faking tragedies to gain the attention of men. I’ve seen some good acting, too. The classic, flat tire routine or, my all-time favorite, ‘the baby is sick’ trick.
Dealing with married men and men with baby mamas has allowed me to see it all. Woman will do anything to get a man’s attention, even if it meant using the kids as bait.
I showered and then put out an all-black Baby Phat dress that my secretary, Stephanie, had given me for my birthday. I had never worn the dress because, when I cutoff the sex she requested, we kept everything business from then on out. I couldn’t see myself wearing it and having her think I was still interested in her. Don’t get lost in my words, the sex was good, but that’s all it was to me- nothing but sex.
I laid silver accessories out next to it and a pair of sterling silver earrings I had bought from Macy's. If he were to come back, my hair and makeup would be at its best.
Just in case he wanted that sample tonight, I would wax all the important areas and make sure they are baby powder fresh.
I needed somebody to talk to. I felt like I was going to explode if I didn’t tell somebody about Dre. I don’t do the girl talk thing, but I needed to tell someone what had happened in the last 24 hours, so I called my best friend, Sandy, who I graduated from Georgia Tech with.
Due to her living in France now, we didn’t talk like we used to, but she was the only person who knew the real me.
I gave her the rundown and waited on her opinion. “Savannah, you ain’t never let no man get to you like this; you sure you should let him come back? What if there is more to that baby mama thing that he didn’t let on about? I thought that Jamaican guy was packing enough for you and me both?”
Never ask for someone’s opinion when you know you really don’t want to hear it! “And how is he going to be more comfortable at your house than his own? You sure he ain’t got people looking for him, girl?”
That is so typical of San
dy to turn every thuggish guy she knows into somebody wanted on Cops or The First 48. I loved her because she always spoke her mind, whether your feelings were going to get hurt or not.
“I’m not worried about his baby mama. We are not talking about marriage; I’m just curious if he can really cook and if his sex is as smooth as him. As far as Amir goes, I told him I wasn’t looking for anything but sex every now and then; we are on the same page.”
Kismet (Beyond the Bedroom Series) Page 4
