Bleeding Like Me

by Riley Parks

  When the coke was all inhaled, he left the bathroom wordlessly, hearing her shrill voice call after him over the pounding beat of the hip-hop music that was thumping in the club. He planned to fuck on cocaine, but it wasn’t going to be her who he was banging.

  4

  Lyle’s basement was packed with sweaty, drunk revelers by the time Jackson, Tamara, Luke, and Amy rolled up. At twenty-three years old, Jackson felt like a fossil in a crowd that consisted mostly of unaffiliated neighborhood kids who had overpaid for their cups, and the younger generation of DDz. Since Aiden was in charge of recruitment, he was always throwing house parties. Jackson rarely came though, much more interested in chilling with O-Gs rather than the KinderKids, but occasionally he made an exception if he was feeling particularly generous. He knew that his reputation held a certain appeal for guys looking to make a name for themselves in the streets, so his presence was good for the bottom line.

  Most of the air had been sucked out of the space, and what was left reeked of weed, cigarette smoke, stale beer, and body odor. Bodies bobbing to the bumping beat looked like a human wave, undulating with the rhythm, alive with energy.

  “Smells like high school,” Amy stated, sticking out her tongue and cringing.

  “I love it.” Luke grinned, taking in the scene. “Lots of cuties here.”

  “They’re pretty much all jailbait, perv,” his sister tsked, shooting an unimpressed look toward Jackson, who sighed and shook his head in reply.

  “It’s so humid in here,” Tamara groused, raking her perfectly manicured fingernails through her thick black hair, making a show of it. “I literally just went to Janelle for a blowout today, baby. I don’t want it to get poofy.”

  “Ain’t going to be here long,” Jackson promised, draping an arm over her shoulders and giving her a reassuring shake. “Just making an appearance.”

  “I told Kylie we’d be over by eleven,” she reminded him, blue eyes giving fair warning that she wouldn’t be pleased if they were late. “So we need to be.”

  “Heard you the first twenty times you told me, Tams,” he replied with pursed lips, removing his arm as quickly as he’d put it there.

  It wasn’t that he didn’t try with Tamara. He did. He’d spent years trying, but he could never make himself fall in love with her, want her, or be attracted to her. She was a woman after all, and he’d known early on that women didn’t do it for him.

  When he was growing up, he remembered chilling with his brothers and viewing porn where a girl got fucked. They all made a big deal about her tits and pussy, but he’d never understood the appeal. Watching a man take cock was much more exciting to him. Like most adolescent boys, he’d jerked off like a fiend, always discovering new ways to please himself. His hand on his dick never felt like enough. He experimented with his fingers first, learning how to stretch himself by mimicking the men on his screen. He relished the feeling of being breached. Craving more, he moved on to dildos and butt plugs before venturing out for the real thing.

  He lost his virginity when he was thirteen to some whore the O-Gs gifted him with after a bunch of recruits had been jumped in. They were all sitting around in Isaiah’s living room, smoking weed and drinking beer, when three skanky girls were brought in. They were already naked, rolling on E or some other cocktail of drugs the bangers had gotten them high on. One of the older guys had tossed condoms to the kids, and Jackson remembered watching as the rest of the new members dropped trou to slide them on. The sight of the women didn’t do it for him, but the visual of all the ready cocks helped him get it up and preserve his pride. He fucked girls after that, but never found it as satisfying as fucking himself.

  In his later teen years, he started to hit up Humboldt Park. It was on the West Side, a safe distance from his hood and his life. There was still some level of risk involved, but the more he got fucked by guys there, the more he knew he needed it and decided that it was safe enough. He was never with the same guy twice. There seemed to be a never-ending rotation of new cocks, and Jackson didn’t see any reason to get too connected to one. Besides, it was around that time he’d found himself in a relationship, and that was taking up a shit ton of his energy.

  Tamara was a neighborhood girl who was used to getting what she wanted, and she’d made it abundantly clear that Jackson was it. At first, he’d tried to resist her advances, but he quickly realized the more he turned her away, the more suspicious his boys were becoming. They all wanted Tammy and found it unfathomable that he wouldn’t, so he pretended he did.

  Early on he discovered that if he got drunk or high enough, he could fuck her more convincingly. He learned how to give her orgasms and fake his own. After they were together for about a year, she began pouting that he never went down on her. He’d told her flat out he didn’t do that shit, and if she wanted it done she’d have to go ahead and find herself a dude who did. She never asked for it again. As time passed, they had less and less sex. Jackson was always coming up with excuses and Tammy always accepted them. Six years later, she mostly gave him head and he fucked her if he got wasted enough to not see straight. He knew she deserved better, but like so many other girls in their neighborhood, she didn’t realize it.

  He kept her happy enough, always making sure she had money to get her nails done, waxing, blowouts, facials, new shoes, purses, jewelry and whatever the fuck else she decided she needed at the time. Bankrolling Tamara was more expensive than the rent he paid for the apartment they lived in with Amy.

  Jackson often found himself wishing that Tam would cheat on him or give him some legit reason to get rid of her, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew Jackson’s influence on the streets and what doing wrong by him would mean for her. Though he would happily pack her fucking bags if she found somebody else, his boys wouldn’t do the same. He thought about ending it with her often, but figured there was no fucking point, since he’d probably end up having to fuck around with another girl to maintain his cred.

  “You never come around my girls and I want you to know that it’s important to me,” Tamara whined, deliberately interlocking her slim fingers with Jackson’s when she saw a few of the younger girls eyeing him down. “Want me to gouge your fucking eyeballs out, you dollar store bitches?” Tammy snapped, drawing a laugh from Amy and a look of horror from the girls who quickly turned away.

  Jackson didn’t say anything. He was painfully used to Tammy’s jealous outbursts. He knew he got a fair amount of attention from the chicks, but his girlfriend’s temper shined a spotlight on it.

  “That’s right, you better not look at my man,” Tammy sneered, calming down as she turned to Jackson and gave him a sweet kiss on his cheek. “Can’t take you anywhere. Get the girls too riled up.”

  “Why do you get so fucking pressed by sluts? Hmm?” Jackson questioned, licking his lips. “Told you that you don’t got to worry about any other girl.” Technically it was the truth. He hated to lie.

  “Just hate hungry hoes,” she replied.

  “I fucking love them,” Luke chimed in, giving his brother a wink. “Speaking of hungry, what’s up, cuz?” he shouted as Aiden approached with a stack of red Solo cups in his hands.

  “I’m going to ignore that ‘cause I’m in a good mood.” Aiden lifted his chin at Jackson.

  “This shit got anything to do with it?” Jackson questioned, taking the new chain that was hanging around Aiden’s neck between his fingers. It was seemed to be about twice the weight as Jackson’s and had him wondering how his friend was able to afford it. Aiden had a few customers he sold powder to, but even if he’d moved all the product Jackson had given him, it wouldn’t cover the cost of his new piece. “You sell all the eight balls?”

  “Nah, Jack, I got a little side hustle goin’ on.”

  “That right?” Jackson raised his eyebrows with curiosity. “Why don’t you tell me about it?” He turned to Tammy. “We got some business to discuss, take care of Amy and I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

  “I can take ca
re of myself,” Amy snarked with an eye roll.

  “Well then fuck me for giving a shit,” Jackson huffed, throwing his hands up as if he wasn’t sure why he tried to be nice in the first place.

  “No later than ten forty-five,” Tammy warned.

  “You don’t give me terms or curfews, Tams,” Jackson snarled, ice dripping from his voice. “If I’m not done, fuck off yourself to Kylie’s.”

  Tammy looked like she was going to protest, but his face had turned to stone, and she knew she better not start shit. Instead, she allowed herself to get led to the keg by Amy, while Jackson, Luke, and Aiden went out to the front porch.

  It was 10:55 when Tammy emerged from the house. “You ready to go?” She crossed her arms over her ample chest.

  “Not going to make it tonight. Got some shit to handle,” Jackson replied coolly.

  “Are you serious right now?” she hissed. “I gave it ‘til the last possible minute, Jack. Now I’m going to be late.”

  “Didn’t fucking tell you to stay,” he reminded her, taking a drag from his cigarette and exhaling, focusing on the way the smoke billowed in the air rather than his girlfriend’s eyes.

  “Asshole,” she muttered, making her way down the steep porch steps in her five-inch heels.

  “If I had pussy like that, I’d run after her everywhere she went,” Aiden mused, taking a swig of his beer.

  “Yeah and that’s why you don’t got pussy like that,” Jackson poked with a tilt of his head and a smirk.

  “That’s the trick, huh? Be a dickhead?”

  “It’s always worked for Jack. Been a dickhead since the day he was born. Swear this motherfucker came out of Mom’s vag telling her to go make him a fucking sandwich,” Luke joked, dodging the beer can that his brother had lobbed at his head. “What kinda shit do we got to take care of anyway?” he questioned.

  “Eh, it’s on me,” Jackson replied, staying as nonchalant as possible. “You don’t got to worry about it.”

  “Don’t need us to get your back?” Aiden asked.

  Jackson shook his head. “Nah. Don’t need any backup.”

  He was planning to back it up all on his own.

  5

  When Evan told Luis he got what they needed and was going to meet up with a fuck buddy, his new friend threw him the peace sign, and seemed more than happy to roll solo at The Drexel surrounded by beautiful women.

  Evan made his way down the bustling North Side block that was filled with Chicago’s elite, club kids, and the rest of the late-night set: different groups of people, all seeking the same magic that could only be found in a perfect moment, one that defined the evening and created a memory that would dance through their minds for years to come. Evan knew the feeling they were chasing. He felt it when he got lost in a painting. It had been so long since he’d been able to sweep acrylic across a canvas, and he couldn’t help but smile knowing that the activities of the night had enabled him to have a paintbrush in his hand soon.

  Luis had informed him earlier that they’d most likely be able to use the credit card for twenty-one days. That was how long it took before the typical victim got their bill and realized there was fraudulent spending. In Luis’s experience, the rich ones sometimes didn’t even notice when they received their statement. They simply paid it, not concerned that it was higher than usual. Luis’s eyes lit up when he told Evan he’d once used a card for nineteen months before it was cancelled. The crew still talked about it as it grew to legendary status among the gang. Luis filled Evan in on all the tips and tricks, everything from how to purchase the goods to where to have them shipped. It all seemed surprisingly easy and Evan chided himself for not thinking of it on his own.

  As he rode the bus to the West Side, he was more invigorated than he’d been in years. He wasn’t sure if it was the Fire pulsing through his body, his belly being full, the fact that he had his own bedroom, or access to a credit card. Whatever, or all the above, he felt invincible. He stared out the window at the city lights blurring by, thinking that the city looked as alive as he was.

  He rarely took it all in and acknowledged that though his life was mostly shit, he was surrounded by immense beauty; he just had to recognize it. Throwing his head back and laughing wildly at his flowery thoughts, he drew perplexed looks from fellow passengers. He couldn’t help but grin when he realized it was definitely the coke. Everything was more magnificent when there were snowstorms in summer.

  “You’ve never seen somebody happy?” he asked the woman in the seat next to him.

  She nodded, surveying the bus as if she was looking for another place to sit.

  “I’m in love,” Evan confessed, licking his lips and leaning in closer to her with cocaine, Klown Killerz, his bedroom, and food fueling his sociability.

  “Congratulations,” she muttered, scooting as far to the edge of the seat as she could get without falling off. He pondered if she would’ve been as scared years ago, when he was an unassuming freckle-faced kid with puppy dog eyes. Though physically that boy had disappeared, on his best days Evan still felt like him on the inside.

  She hurried to get off at the next stop and he wondered if she had planned to or if his boisterousness had caused her to run. Either way, he was thankful for the extra space.

  He turned so his back was leaning against the window and stretched his legs across the empty seat. It had been a good day. All he needed to make it better was a warm mouth around his cock and then a tight ass to bury it in, preferably belonging to the same person.

  He’d never been to Humboldt Park before, but he heard it had a pretty good scene. When he was unaffiliated, he could get away with going to the gay spots on the South Side, but now that he was with the KKz, he had to be more careful. He disembarked and walked the short distance to the big rock where guys supposedly met. Sitting down on a bench, he pulled out a cigarette he had bummed off Luis and watched as a couple of queens made a connection and disappeared into the wooded area a few feet behind the boulder. He let the filter rest between his lips as he leaned back to stare up at the moon. It was a waxing crescent that barely glowed against the black expanse of the sky, making the already poorly lit park even darker.

  He peered down at a man who took a seat on the bench next to him. They sat quietly, Evan’s head still thrown back and the guy smoking his cigarette as if he hadn’t just propositioned him.

  “Nice night,” Evan threw out as if he was telling the moon rather than the guy beside him.

  “Are you looking to chitchat or are you trying to fuck?” When Evan finally dropped his head, he noticed that the guy was peering at him with raised eyebrows. They stared for a moment, and without a doubt, a spark arced between them.

  “Depends what you’re into I guess,” Evan replied, noticing that the man had a perfectly plump pout. He wanted to see what those lips looked like wrapped around his cock. “I’m not going to bend over.”

  “Wouldn’t want you to,” the guy replied with a sniff, blue eyes dropping to momentarily study the grass before returning to Evan’s.

  “That right?” he questioned, moderately surprised. Mr. Ready To Hook Up seemed to be tough as fuck, with his sleeve tattoos and muscular biceps that were perfectly displayed in his gray sleeveless shirt. Evan knew it was a stereotype that men who exclusively took cock were soft, but in his experience, more often than not, they had been. He’d fucked a variety of guys, and there was always some negotiating between him and a dude who was versatile. This hot motherfucker was clearly a power bottom, a fact that had Evan’s cock standing up to take notice.

  “Need me to spell it out for you, Daywalker?” he huffed, eyebrows raised in challenge.

  Evan shook his head and self-consciously ran his fingers through his red hair. “So you want to go—” he began.

  The guy interrupted by saying, “Show me what you got.”

  Without wasting another second, Evan tossed his cigarette to the ground and unzipped the fly of his jeans, arching his back enough to shimmy them, a
long with his boxer briefs, down his thighs so his hard cock could spring out. Instinctively, he moved a hand down to the shaft and started to pump it.

  Blue eyes observed every stroke as full lips smacked subconsciously. “Yeah, I want to fuck,” the guy stated, seemingly impressed by what Evan was working with. Wordlessly, the hot-as-shit motherfucker stood up and started walking, leaving Evan scrambling to get his pants up so he could follow.

  The guy strode like he owned the park, the ground, the city, demonstrating more swagger than one person had the right to have. He was the same height as Evan, but somehow his presence made him appear even taller than six feet.

  When they reached the edge of the wooded area, and obscured from view by a thick tree trunk, Hot Shit demanded that Evan take his “fucking shirt off.” He complied, unbuttoning the maroon collared shirt and tossing it to the ground, slightly puzzled when the guy kicked it rather aggressively through the dirt. Evan gave a mental shrug then yanked off his wife-beater and tugged down his jeans, pleased to see the guy taking off his own pants and dropping to his knees.

  The guy sucked dick like he was made for it, working Evan fervently until he felt like he was going to tumble over the edge, and then slowing it down to lap him up. Evan held back the moans that were desperate to escape his mouth, leaving only the sound of slurping to fill the air.

  He watched as the man with the talented tongue reached beside him to pull a lube packet out of his wallet, which was in the pocket of his discarded pants.

  “Holy shit,” Evan breathed, tilting his head to the side so he could take in how the man was prepping himself as he gave him head. He was impressed by the skill level and efficiency. It was clear Hot Shit was well practiced in the art of park fucking, and Evan regretted not venturing over to the West Side years ago.