by Wahida Clark
“Jaz, do you hear yourself? You saying Oni planted meth, your favorite pastime, in the back of your car and got a search warrant handed down to us? C’mon, Jaz!”
No this nigga did not! “Faheem. Are you serious? Listen to yourself. Are you saying that you don’t believe me?” I pushed him. “I dare you to say that shit, Faheem. Tell me that shit to my face. I fuckin’ dare you.” Spittle was flying out of my mouth.
“What did I tell you would happen if I ever found out you fuckin’ with that shit again?”
I looked at that nigga like he had two heads.
“Jaz, you not only jeopardizing your freedom, but mine as well. We have a daughter and we have assets. What the fuck are you thinking? Who are you doing this for this time? And why?”
“Doing this for? Hold the fuck up. You don’t believe me? Your wife?”
“Word is bond, Jaz, if you can’t let that shit go, you gotta get the fuck out of here.”
I was so angry I couldn’t form a damn sentence. The tears started streaming down my face. I could not believe that my husband, the love of my life, would believe that I would backslide like that and not tell him. What was that bitch telling him? Better yet, what was she doing to him? Was he seeing her behind my back?
“So what? You fuckin’ ole girl again? Is this what this is about? You want to fight with me so that you could run off and be with your little ex-jump-off, now baby momma? Just admit to that shit Faheem and at least I’ll feel better. Because right now, with you calling me a liar, I am two seconds from telling you to go fuck yourself. And that’s my word.”
“Jaz, this shit ain’t about me. Don’t try to flip the script. This ain’t about her either. This is about you gettin’ busted with that shit and having them muthafuckas all up in our house.”
“This is about her. This shit don’t seem a little suspicious to you? You honestly don’t think she could have anything to do with this?” His silence said it all. I chuckled then said, “You spent all that time in the streets and you can’t peep game when you see it? Stupid ass!”
Faheem turned his back to me and was on his way into the house. I was right on the nigga’s heels. He stopped dead in his tracks when he got to the front door and turned around. “So what’s up? You going to admit it or what? If I don’t get the fuckin’ truth you ain’t coming up in here.”
“There ain’t shit to admit. I told you already that the shit ain’t mine. But I guess she back sucking your dick so good your judgment is all fucked up. You always been a sucka for a bomb blow job.”
He turned and looked at me with squinted eyes. “Or maybe you been sucking my dick so good that my judgment is fucked up.”
I hauled back and tried to slap the shit out of him but he grabbed my wrist. “You know what? Thanks for showing me your true colors. Just like that, you would let any damn thing come between us? When I thought that air couldn’t penetrate what we had. You know what? Fuck it! You want me out? Let me get my shit.” He wouldn’t move. I tried to go around him and he blocked me. “Faheem, let me get my shit,” I gritted.
“You not coming in here until I hear you say it.”
“Say what? I’m not saying shit. The shit was planted. Your ex-jump-off set this whole thing up. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.”
“Then get the fuck off my property.”
I could barely get the words out, I was in such shock. “Your property? Nigga, this is my property just as much as it’s yours. Move out of my way.” He pushed me back and I damn near fell down the steps.
He came at me, “Get off the premises, Jaz. I’m not going to tell you again.”
“Or what, Faheem? You gonna throw me off? Nigga, you betta let me get my clothes.” He pushed me backwards and this time I fell onto the lawn.
“Wait right here. I’ll get your shit,” he said and left me out on the lawn, sitting right on my ass. I sat there stunned. No this nigga did not just throw me on my ass and put me out of my own damn house.
FAHEEM
I couldn’t believe Jaz. She really had me fucked up. I told her ass that after that first time, if she tried her little games again, she would be sure to feel a nigga’s wrath.
I went inside, got her some shit out the closet went outside and damn near threw the shit at her. I dared her to try to come in. When I walked back inside of the house I had to roll something up to try to get my head on straight. It felt right. I hope I just did the right thing. I got up to straighten up the first floor which took me damn near an hour and half. Since I was on a roll I hit the upstairs and knocked that out too. I sat on the living room couch for almost an hour trying to clear my head. Just as I was about to go out into the backyard to get my smoke on again, my cell rang. It was Oni telling me she was on her way with Little Faheem and Kaeerah.
“I should be pulling up in front of your house in about ten minutes.”
I told her I was here and then went and put my weed stash up and waited for them to show. Exactly ten minutes later she was ringing the bell. I opened the door and the kids ran right past me. Oni was out of breath and struggling with Kaeerah’s book bags and Faheem’s football gear. I stepped off the porch and met her. I grabbed some of the equipment allowing her to pass by me and to take the rest of the stuff inside. As she passed, the sun hit the back of her dress in the right spot and I could see right through it. The silhouette of her black lace thong had a brother a little curious … especially in my frame of mind.
ONI
“They ate already, and Faheem definitely needs a shower, and I think they both need to get to bed early. They got to fussing in the car right before we pulled up,” I filled Faheem in as I bent over to place the bags and knee pads on the floor. They had worn me out. I was going through Kaeerah’s bag to find the certificate that she got from completing her ballet lessons. “Kaaerah needs to—” I was caught off guard as Faheem came and stood behind me.
He grabbed onto my hips and said, “And what do you need?” I damn near jumped out of my skin as I turned around.
“Why are you always so jumpy whenever I get close to you?” He backed me up against the wall.
“Because … you are always fuckin’ with my head, Faheem.” I had to let him know that I was on to his little head games.
“Whose fuckin’ with your head? Me or him?” He looked down at his now hard dick.
“Both of y’all,” I managed to say as he slid his hand up the side of my dress. He spun me around and I dutifully placed my hands on the wall. In a matter of seconds he had my dress up over my ass and was admiring my rear view.
“Gotdamn,” he mumbled under his breath as he ran his hand across my ass.
It felt like he was getting ready to take it right there in the hall way. Then we heard the kids running down the steps and he quickly pulled my dress down.
“What y’all doing?” our son yelled out.
“I was getting ready to fix something for your mother.”
“He damn sure was,” I mumbled under my breath.
Then they ran off into the living room. I grabbed my keys and turned around. I had to stroke his dick. And yes, he was still hard as hell. I wanted to suck the life out of him but this time I would be leaving him wanting. Reluctantly, I gave it one more squeeze and said, “I have to get to work.” I headed for the door.
“You won’t be able to get away from me the next time.”
“I hope not,” I said as I walked away wanting to hide the big smile that was threatening to show up on my face. It felt like I was back in.
BROWN DOE
I was very nervous. After two months of physical therapy Nurse Wright dropped me off to where I would be staying until I figured out where I really lived. It was a big boarding house called Happy Hands. I was so frustrated because I couldn’t figure anything out. How was it that I could read and know stuff but not remember my past? Where I lived? Who my family was? Nurse Wright and Dr. Shalala assured me that it would come, to be patient and to take it one day at a time. Nurse Wright p
romised that she would visit me every day and bring me some peach cobbler. At least I had something to look forward to.
TWELVE
TRAE
Being the owner of the club, I was questioned extensively by the LA detectives working Stephon’s case. Fuck them pigs, even if I did know something I wouldn’t tell them shit. I went to Charli’s office to see if I could catch up with her, since none of my calls to her phone was being answered and that turned out to be a dead end. I wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but I knew that his death was directly linked to what Tasha did to her. Since finding out about Stephon’s death, I had only spoken to Tasha one time. And although I tried my best to steer her away from paranoia about the Li family being connected to Stephon’s death that shit was a stalemate, Tasha was no dummy and I knew it. It seemed as though these days I was on a man hunt for everybody. First Tasha, then Marvin and his bullshit, and now Charli. Charli was far from stupid, but that bitch must be stupid-crazy if she thinks I would let her get away with doing anything to my wife. I told myself that if anything happened to Tasha, I would become the Li Organization’s worst fucking nightmare.
I looked up at the church from my rental car and watched people stream in. People from all over had come to pay their respects to Stephon. He would’ve been proud to know that so many had come to see him home. Funerals weren’t my thing. My only reason for being here was to catch a glimpse of my baby, Tasha. She looked regal in her all black going into the church. She has no clue as to how bad I wanted to get out of this car, hug her and then beat her ass. I can’t front, my blood boils at the thought of her being with that nigga. Despite everything that we are going through, I love her within everything that’s in me and I’m never letting her go. While Tasha thinks she’s off playing house with Kyron, in actuality she is just buying me time. I was laying my traps and they both were getting ready to fall right in it. It says that sometimes you have to sacrifice a sheep to catch a wolf. Not to mention that I had other business elsewhere. Marvin was back in Kentucky and I needed to pay him a visit. The limo headed to LAX and I was headed for my destination … Kentucky.
TASHA
California is the state that Stephon adopted as his own. He loved it here. “This is my town,” he would always say, so for that reason my Uncle Bill chose to have Stephon’s funeral here in Cali. How can I describe what I feel right now? I guess numb would be the best word. And fear. I’m afraid for me, for Trae, for my sons. Sitting in the front pew with my family, I couldn’t help staring at the silver casket with Stephon inside it. What crushed me inside was the strong possibility that I was responsible for his death. As tears fell down my cheek, I thought about the intense phone conversation I had a few days before with Trae …
“… You know like I know who killed Stephon!”
“I don’t know anything, Tasha. All this shit has got me feeling like I’m living in the Twilight Zone. You and this nigga Kyron fuckin’, the baby growing in your stomach and us not knowing who the father is, you running off to be with that nigga. And now Stephon getting murked. Oh, and how could I forget … you in a jealous rage, pushing Charli down a flight of stairs. I don’t know much about anything right now.”
“That’s bullshit, Trae, and you know it. Granted, I’ll give you all that other shit you just said, but somebody shooting my fuckin’ cousin fifteen times—you know damn well who’s behind it. Fifteen times made it personal, and you of all people should know that. That was over kill. It sent a message, Trae. And I heard it loud and clear. Charli Li, your little Chinese bitch had Stephon killed.”
“Didn’t I tell you to watch your fuckin’ mouth on the phone? Believe me I’m just as fucked up about Stephon as you are, but we can’t go jumping to conclusions. We don’t know what else Stephon might’ve been into. He could’ve gotten mixed up in some shady shit. You can’t—”
“Too much of a coincidence, don’t you think? I get Stephon to get Ms. China Ho to the club. I push her down some stairs and now he’s dead. C’mon, Trae—this was her—them, all day.
“Listen to what you just said. You got Stephon to get her there. You pushed her down the stairs. You assaulted her at our house that day. You, not Stephon. So why kill him and not you? It ain’t like you or I are hard to find.”
“You just told me to watch my fuckin’ mouth over the phone. Now listen to you!”
I hung up on him mainly because it was the truth.
My uncle taking the podium caught my attention as I tried to become absorbed in his every word and not the conversation I had had with Trae.
TRINA
I stood in the back of the church and watched as family member after family member took to the pulpit and shared memories of my cousin Stephon. Stephon’s father Bill, my mother’s brother, and I never saw eye to eye. So I didn’t fuck with him. I always resented him. When the state took me, Tasha and Kevin into custody and made us a part of the system, he never came to get us or try to get us back. He could’ve took us in, but he didn’t and I couldn’t bring myself to forget or forgive that sin. The situation with my parents being on drugs, my little brother getting killed at the age of nine and the state taking us into custody, that shit would break the average kid. But me, I’ve never been the average kid. By the time I was fourteen, I had done a little of everything. Even murder. Yes. Me, I killed someone. Don’t let the stilettos and blow jobs fool you. Stephon was the one who found out that Turner, an older drug dealer, had killed my brother Antoine over some drugs that my mother smoked. Nobody, not even Tasha knew it, other than Stephon because he was with me the day I found Turner and killed him. And it was that day, Stephon told me he was going to Law School to be a lawyer, in case I was ever charged with Turner’s murder he could defend me. As the memory played back in my mind a sharp pain rippled through my heart as I asked myself where I was when he needed me to defend him?
As the three of us were shuffled from one foster home to the next, Stephon was the only one that kept in touch and did shit for us. And for that, I’m grateful. He always begged me to come to Cali and go into business with him, but I always refused. I told him that I was content with the East Coast dirt, fog and cold winters. For me, it’s all about the bricks. My motto was I’ma live and die a Jersey girl. Plus, I told him that I only fucked with the East Coast niggas, those bird flippin’, Timberland and North Face rockin’ and big dick slingin’ niggas. As Biggie Smalls said, money, clothes and bro’s that’s all a bitch knows. Stephon always laughed me out, said he felt me and from time to time he would throw me a few ends. He was loyal like that. It’s crazy but that all seems like it was centuries ago. And now between him and Tasha I am worn down. But look at me! I live on the West Coast but still gettin’ that East Coast dick. I guess old habits are hard to break.
Looking back on everything I knew that my life was a mess. Our rough life in the system had hardened me and turned me into a money-hungry, balla chaser. But, I am what I am.
As I listened to my sister Tasha tell the world why she’d miss Stephon, my blood boiled because he shouldn’t be dead. He was too young. Just like Antoine. The same uncontrollable rage and hunger for revenge that I felt years ago was back. My cousin was ambushed and executed. And I wanted to know by who and why? But even if I never found out the why, I’d settle for the who, so that I could do exactly what I did for my brother all those years ago. Kill for him.
THIRTEEN
KYRON
At first I thought I lost her by default. The day that Tasha told me she had to go back to California, for some reason, I had a sense of foreboding. I was sure that she’d hook back up with Trae and put an end to our wonderful fuck game leaving me high and dry. I never factored in a death in the family. I had gotten that news from Kendrick. He was teasing me, saying that I was like Jaheim, sitting around and hoping that she’d find her way back to love. I said nigga you got me fucked up. But who would have thought that me, that nigga, would be feenin’ for my man’z wife? I said nigga you got me fucked up. Definitely not me.
But I was and apparently Shorty must’ve been feenin’ for me just as bad. Because as soon as her cousin’s funeral was over, she flew back to New York. Right back to me.
I had Shorty up on the kitchen counter fucking the shit out of her. She made a wisecrack about me busting a nut before she got hers, so we had to play a little game of show and tell. I had to show her that she ain’t got nothing to worry about. And once I got her to come three times, back-to-back, that would tell her that I’m that nigga. Now she can barely hold herself up. You couldn’t tell me shit.
I was deep dick inside of her, had one leg in the crook of my arm, the other one was wrapped around my waist. I wasn’t moving. Her pussy was so wet I could feel her juices sliding on my nuts. I was simply waiting for her to say the word and I was going to finish knocking the bottom out. “You want to go again? What?”
“Unh uh,” she whispered.
Shorty was done. You could stick a fork in her. But it was too bad. I didn’t feel sorry for her. I needed to get mine off so I started workin’ it. She moaned my name and dug her fingernails into my shoulder and back. The name calling shit and fingernail digging only turned me on more. It looked like her eyes rolled back into her head. Even though she was damn near out she was ridin’ my dick real nice and I had to give her props for that. You talkin’ about a chick breakin’ me off, her fuck game was sick. I clearly understood why Trae was going all out on his manhunt for his wife. Shorty started ridin’ me faster. She was getting ready to cum. Her pussy muscles were clamping around my dick and I couldn’t even move my lips to talk. I could only make sounds, that’s how good the pussy was. I grabbed onto the corner of the counter because I couldn’t feel my knees. Shorty was hollering and gettin’ hers off. My superman cape fell to the floor. I couldn’t hold it no longer. It felt as if I released buckets of cum.
