The ghetto made a lot of fools feel as if they were tough and invincible. Obviously, Roc was a product of that environment, but little did he know, so was I. This suit I had on was misleading, and when the time came for me to really get down with this idiot, I would have no problem doing it. For now, I had to accept the country-club membership that he had given me. But before I could say anything, Chase came into the room and stood next to Roc. She looked up at him.
“Chill, all right? He’s not worth it, and the last thing I want is for you to get kicked out of here. I’m looking forward to having fun; fun that I thought you were interested in having. Right?”
Roc kept his eyes on me, but he backed up to the couch to sit down. Chase sat next to him, leaving very little breathing room in between them. I smiled to myself, knowing that pushing his buttons would be easy. Ole punk-ass nigga let a manipulative woman take his mind off the ass kicking I was supposed to get. That spoke volumes—he was weak.
I snatched the magazine off the table and glanced at the two of them cuddling on the couch. I cleared my throat to get their attention. “Listen. My bad for causing so much confusion, but I must confess that y’all make a real nice couple. Seem to have a lot in common and who knows? Things may work out for the two of you. Good luck with that sista, Roc. Chase seems like a real winner.”
I winked and walked away.
“Hey, Jaylin,” Chase said, halting my steps. I turned around, only to see her backside. She slapped her hand on her ass, shaking a chunk of it as she gripped it. “Kiss. My. Whole, entire ass, okay?”
For the first time, I smiled. “I would, but I can’t get to it because your skirt is in the way.”
To no surprise, Chase pulled up her skirt and I’ll be damned if she didn’t show her pretty ass. It was as pretty and round as I had imagined it to be. And anyone who knew me, they knew I was a man of my word and I loved to be Naughty. I walked over to her and bent down. Soaked my lips with my tongue and placed a delicate kiss on her right ass cheek. She blushed when I stood up, but I turned my attention to Roc, who sat on the couch with shock in his eyes.
“Get control of your girl,” I said to him. “I think she likes me.”
“Man, get on out of here with that shit. And like I said, that sounds like a problem for you, not me. Handle it.”
No doubt, I would. I strutted away, but heard Chase say, “Screw you, Jaylin. You’re not all that, you know?”
Yes, I was. And by now, she knew it.
My life had been going downhill since I let my ex-boyfriend, Kiley, get away. But I had to keep it moving. Therefore, when I was contacted about doing this challenge, I was all for it. I needed some excitement in my life. I got tired of sitting around all day arguing with folks on the phone over stupid stuff that didn’t even matter. My girlfriends were all haters and all they wanted to do was go to the casino, get wasted at the clubs and eat. I was up to two hundred and thirty pounds now, but no one could deny how cute I was. Not even the man in my life. He wasn’t about nothing but selling dope and trying to play hard. He somewhat reminded me of Kiley, but I was a fool if I ever thought I’d find a man to replace him. That man was so good to me and it was funny how I didn’t realize all of that until after we had broken up.
My girlfriend, Portia, dropped me off in front of the Hell House, but it didn’t look like a Hell House to me. I couldn’t wait to get inside to see what was up, so I hurried to remove my bags from the trunk. Portia helped and then she gave me a hug.
“Be safe and write me if you can,” she said. “You did say y’all can’t have no phones, right?”
“That was one of the stupid rules, but I’mma do my best to keep mine on me. If I can’t, then I’ll write to let you know what’s goin’ on.”
“You do that, boo, and don’t hurt nobody up in there.”
“I’ll try not to, but you do know your friend.”
We laughed.
Portia gave me another hug before she got into the car and drove off. I noticed several pieces of Kenneth Cole luggage at the end of the driveway, and I wondered whom they belonged to. Since I had two heavy bags full of stuff, I made my way up the long driveway and to the front door. By the time I got to it, I was out of breath. My jeans were so tight, they made my muffin top boil over my belt. My Black Girls Rock T-shirt was stretched across my 44 Double D’s and the tennis shoes I wore had my toes crammed. It was so hot outside that my sandy-brown Afro was pulled away from my face, allowing the fullness of it to show. I never wore much makeup, only because my entire look was natural and I didn’t need it.
I dropped my bags and reached out to knock on the door. What seemed to be seconds later, the door came open. Standing in the doorway was one of the most nice-looking brothers I had ever laid my eyes on. Actually, he was too cute and his cologne was intoxicating. Looked like he could easily be on the down low, and his tan had his body as caramelized as mine. I always made it my business to steer clear of men that I felt looked better than me and he did. His piercing gray eyes scanned me over, then he shot outside without saying one word.
“Excuse you,” I said as he bumped my shoulder. “Damn.”
I watched as he walked down the driveway to get his luggage. Making sure that he didn’t bump me again, I picked up my bags and carried them into the house. It was beautiful inside, and I was in awe, thinking, How Can I Be Down? I kept it moving down the hallway and into a living room area where I saw a snooty-looking bitch sitting close to dark-and-damn-sure-lovely. Now, this dude was definitely my type, and my love for 50 Cent had finally come to an abrupt end. I didn’t appreciate how close glamour girl was sitting next to him, so I played it cool.
“Hello,” I said, sucking in my stomach and pulling down my shirt to make sure that it covered the wideness of my curvy hips. I was happy about my full figure, no doubt, but I wasn’t sure if brotha-man appreciated healthy women. Maybe not, since the skinny woman next to him seemed to have his attention. So much so, that when I spoke, he only tossed his head back.
“Hi,” the woman next to him said, wiggling her fingers and displaying a fake smile.
“Hello,” I replied again, being fake as well. I dropped my bags on the floor and plopped down on the couch. It felt good to take a load off. “So, what’s the deal here? Am I late?”
“No,” the chick said. “We’re still waiting to see what’s up.” She inched forward and extended her hand. “My name is Chase Jenkins. And you are?”
“I’m Jada Mahoney. It’s a pleasant to meet you.”
“Pleasure,” Chase corrected me. “Not pleasant.”
Oh, no, this bitch didn’t go there. I realized that I was going to have to chop this heifer up like putting meat in a food processor. She smiled and sat back on the couch. All this fakeness was working me.
I looked up and saw Mr. Hollywood walk by with his luggage, but he didn’t say a word to nobody. I wondered what was up with his attitude, but first I had to see what was up with all the dark chocolate sitting next to Chase. He was engrossed in the football game on TV, but I saw him checking me out from the corner of his eye.
“Who playin’?” I asked because I loved to watch football.
Unfortunately, Chase spoke up before he did. “The St. Louis Rams and the Cardinals.”
“I was askin’ him, though.”
He stood and walked toward the kitchen area. “Roc,” he said to me. “And she just told you who was playin’.”
“Okay, Roc, but what the fuck is up with everybody’s attitudes in here? Am I missin’ somethin’?”
“Ain’t nobody got no attitude, ma,” Roc said, opening the refrigerator. He removed two bottled waters and tossed one to me. I caught it. “Just tryin’ to check out the game. Handle yo business with yo bags and then come back to the livin’ room so we can holla.”
Now, he was singing my tune. I was grinning from ear-to-ear and thanked him for the water. Chase told me where I could find the bedroom, so I left to go put my bags in the closet they mentioned. When I opene
d the door to the bedroom, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was small, but was nice and comfy. I looked for my nametag, noticing that it was right beside Roc’s. Chase’s was on the other side of his. I figured the fine dude was inside of the walk-in closet because I heard him talking to someone on the phone.
“Because you be bullshitting, baby, that’s why,” he said to the person over the phone, as I went into the closet. “We’ll deal with that when I come home. Until then, stay up and don’t be over there crying because you miss me.”
He put his phone in his pocket and then he shot a quick glance at me. I thought he was going to speak, but all he did was turn his back and hang more of his clothes.
The closet was humongous. Other luggage was inside, but no other pieces of clothing were hung. I had my stuff crammed into my bags. I decided to straighten my pieces now, so I didn’t have to do it later.
“You almost knocked me down when you rushed outside,” I said, looking at the man’s backside. Nice, but I was so sure another dude was getting it.
He turned around, scanning his eyes over me once again. His gaze was unnerving in a sense, but I looked at him in the same way.
“If an apology is what you’re looking for,” he replied nonchalantly. “You’re not going to get one, especially since you were in the way.”
My brows shot up so fast that my thick eyelashes were about to fall off. Was that his way of calling me fat? I was about to let this arrogant, curly topped-ass fool have it. Men like him made me sick and he needed to take his Harvard degree-carrying tail back to where he came from.
“An apology would be nice, but by the looks of your stuck-up gay ass, I’m sure I won’t get it. The next time you bump me, though, expect some piano playin’ and dirt layin’ to go on. Somebody will be plannin’ your funeral ’cause I’m not the one to mess with, just so you know.”
He narrowed his eyes and he snickered a little, before turning back around. I wanted to punch him in his face; he was so irritating to me. I understood exactly what his look meant. All it said was I’m better than you and you ain’t shit. Some black people killed me with that mess. Act like they ain’t been through nothing and always looking down on other folks. By the time this Hell House mess was over with, he was going to learn to respect me. I would make sure of that.
I moved over to the side of the closet where he was to hang my things. His name-brand clothes were neatly hung and a few shirts were folded on top of the racks. I thought about what he did for a living. Probably sold drugs or had somebody selling for him. I wanted to ask, but a smart response could get spit in his face.
“You’re either Prince or Jaylin,” I assumed. “Probably Prince, since you’re up in here actin’ like the Almighty One.”
“I’m whoever you want me to be. Gay, dead, a prince…take your pick.”
“Ugh. How about an asshole then? Can you be one of those, especially since you’re actin’ like one?”
“I can do that, but first I may have to shove my dick in your mouth to silence that nonsense you’re talking. Then, if I start calling you names that you’re not going to like, your feelings gon’ get hurt. Several words are on the tip of my tongue, so back the fuck up.”
I tightened my fist, knowing that this fool was about to get it if he dissed me. Some men needed to be put in their place, and if I could handle Kiley, I definitely could handle him.
“Say it,” I threatened, inching closer to him with gritted teeth. “I dare you.”
The evil-looking bastard didn’t appreciate my words or that I had moved closer to him. If I swung on him, there wasn’t much room in the closet for me to get him good how I wanted to. So for now, I was thinking about scratching his face and poking those gray, disturbing eyes out with my fingers. He could tell that I was plotting to do something, so he backed up and shot me another stern gaze that was supposed to scare me.
“I don’t know you, and I certainly don’t know what the hell your problem is,” he said. “But let me say this…you have crossed over into territory that you don’t want to be in. If you want to keep getting at me like some kind of gangbanger, I will feel threatened. And if I feel threatened, that means, woman or not, you will find yourself knocked out cold on the fucking floor behind you. From this moment on, you need to think carefully about how you get at me.”
He turned around and started straightening his things again. In no way did I view this fool as a man who would put his hands on a woman or hurt her. He looked too soft and his appearance showed that he was some kind of uppity nerd that would probably run home to tell his mama about me hurting his feelings. I was so annoyed by his sharp tone, by the way he kept looking at me, and because he had bumped my shoulder and still hadn’t apologized for it. Not to mention that he had just threatened me. That was why I couldn’t let this fool get away with what he’d done.
I tapped his shoulder to confront him again, and he swung around with madness visible in his eyes. Without any warning, he reached out his hand and gripped it around my neck. After that, several things happened and my entire body shut down. My breathing halted and my blood felt as if it had stopped flowing. I could not move, and I could barely see from the tears in my eyes clouding my vision. When I tried to turn my neck, he strengthened his grip and that was it for me. I felt hypnotized, and I was now in his command.
“Now that I have your attention,” he said with a slow nod. “And I do have your attention, don’t I?”
I followed suit and slowly nodded because he had added even more pressure to my neck when he squeezed tighter.
“Good. But now that I do have it, I want you to listen up and keep your big mouth shut. Can you do that for me?”
More pressure, so I slowly nodded again.
“I love progress, even when it has to be forced upon those who don’t always know better. You do know better, don’t you?”
I nodded again and all he did was smirk.
“I thought so, but in case you don’t, I want to share a few things with you, just so we don’t get off on the wrong foot while we’re here. My name is Jaylin Rogers and you shall not refer to me as anything else. I’m a straight man, and I do not take bullshit from others too lightly. I will make yo ass pay for fucking with me, and if you feel as though you can’t control yourself when you’re around me, then I suggest that you keep distance between us. Because the next time you interrupt me with your bullshit, the punishment will be nothing like this. What I will do to you will hurt, and the last thing I want to do is go around hurting women. Maybe with my dick, but surely not with my hands.”
At that moment, he snatched his hand back and it seemed that my whole body started functioning again. I could breathe, I could move my mouth and my blood was pumping. Iron Man turned back around, ignoring me again. I opened my mouth wide to suck in air I had lost, and I rubbed my neck, making sure it was still there. I didn’t know if I had been unconscious or not, and it felt like he had done some type of voodoo shit on me. That was so messed up, but I had to let him know that his actions weren’t cool. This time, I didn’t tap his shoulder and I preferred to keep my distance.
“Uh, excuse me, but what in the hell did you just do to me? Please don’t ever put your hands on me again, and if you think that a chokehold is going to silence me, you are sadly mistaken.”
“I swear, some muthafucking hoes prefer to learn things the hard way,” he said, shaking his head, but not turning around. When I looked up and saw another chick waiting to put her things in the closet, I stormed out of it. I was further away from him, so I felt safe talking back and responding to his hoe comment.
“Stupid bastard, the name is Jada!” I shouted from outside of the closet, per his request to keep distance between us. “Oooo, just wait! I got somethin’ for that ass! You gon’ be somewhere leakin’, trust me!”
I marched out of the bedroom, thinking of ways to get him back for what he’d done to me. I also wasn’t sure if coming to this house was the right doggone decision, and the last thing I wanted
to do was fistfight with men. That was something I’d done mostly all my life, and I was sick of it. Maybe my approach toward that idiot was wrong. I did want to start off on the right foot, but after what he’d done, I didn’t know if that was possible.
Brenda Hampton has written more than twenty novels. Her name has graced the Essence magazine bestsellers list, and she was named a favorite female fiction writer in Upscale magazine. Her mystery novel The Dirty Truth was nominated for an African American Literary Award. She is the executive producer of a new reality TV show based out of St. Louis, Missouri, where she resides. Visit her online at BrendaMHampton.com.
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ALSO BY BRENDA HAMPTON
Hell House
Strebor Books
P.O. Box 6505
Largo, MD 20792
http://www.streborbooks.com
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2014 by Brenda Hampton
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means. electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise without the prior written permission of the author. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.
ISBN 978-1-59309-538-3
ISBN 978-1-4767-4618-0 (ebook)
LCCN 2013950649
First Strebor Books trade paperback edition March 2014
Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com
The Roof is on Fire Page 20
