Black & Ugly

by Styles, Toy

  "Does a man who goes to a business meeting with his associates avoid eating?"

  "What?"

  "I said, does a man who takes his business associates out to eat avoid eating?"

  "I don't know, nigga. What's your fuckin' point?"

  "My point is that although I'm gonna have fun with Parade, in the end, if she's the one, she's done the moment I get off her."

  "That's all I need to know."

  "Enough said."

  "Hey," Parade says as she gets in the car. "I didn't catch your name."

  "My friends call me Cannon."

  "Cannon?" She pauses. "I like that." T. Styles

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  17

  Sky

  IF ANYTHING CAN BE SAID about Jay, it is that he knows how to please me. He's passionate in the bedroom and his money always flows. I can accept him ignoring me the way that he has lately just as long as when we come together, he makes it worth my while.

  My parents are out of town on business, as usual.

  This is tight because it means we'll have the entire house to ourselves. I cut off all the lights and allow the ambience to flow from the candles. I also ignite some of that sweet smellin' oil from Bath & Body Works throughout the house and to top it all off, I have on my red La Perla undie set with my sexy red stilettos.

  He opens the door and walks right in. I keep it open because he hates knocking on doors and standing in hallways, sayin' something about it gives niggas too much time to rush him. He is wearing a pair of jeans, a plain T-shirt and a jacket. His platinum chain and soft hair are the first things I notice. I tell Jay all the time that he could be a model if he wanted to. He's that 120

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  perfect - something like Ginuwine but a little bit taller.

  I can't help but think about how pretty our babies will be when we have some.

  "Why you got all the lights out?" he asks as he closes the door, locks it and flips the switch on.

  "Because, I'm tryin' to make love to my man. That's why," I say as I kiss him and turn the lights back off.

  "Well, I ain't here for all of that. I'm tired. Plus, I can't stay too long."

  "What you saying, Jay?" I ask, hoping he won't ruin our night before it even starts. "Is everything okay?"

  "If you call my niece gettin' robbed cool, then yeah, okay. But the way I feel right now, I could smash somebody's skull in."

  "Your niece Shannon? Is she okay?"

  "Not really. Whoever the mothafucka was waiting on her in the hallway robbed her and made her suck his dick. I'm tellin' you right now, I betta not find out who that nigga is," he says as he walks in, puts his gun on the table and sits on the couch.

  I know it's wrong to be mad, but I feel like his niece has ruined our night. He does too much for her as far as I'm concerned, and whoever robbed her probably knew it. I know it's selfish, but Jay is my man. She got her own man. Let him worry about her problems.

  He must see the disappointment in my face because he tells me to come and sit on his lap. I flop down and he squeezes me tight. There's something about when a man holds you that makes you feel like you're the T. Styles

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  safest in the whole wide world. Rubbing his hand up and down my thigh makes my pussy wet. If I can just keep his mind on me, maybe he'll forget all about what happened to his niece.

  "I got somethin' for you before I leave," he says as he kisses me softly on my lips.

  "What is it?" I ask, excited by the thought alone.

  What I really want I know he ain't gonna give me, and that's an engagement ring.

  "It's what you always wanted, baby," he continues real smoothly.

  "And that is?" I inquire, trying hard to push the idea that he may actually propose out of my mind.

  He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a wad of money then places five one-thousand-dollar bills on the table. I'd never seen a thousand-dollar bill until a couple of weeks after meeting Jay, the first time he broke me off. Any other time I'd be smilin' from ear to ear, but now the money doesn't excite me. I am starting to believe that all he's doing is paying me off, like I'm his prostitute or something.

  I try to speak but smell the same scent that was on his shirt before. Mad or not, I am gonna say something to him because even if it isn't Parade he is dealing with, it's definitely another woman.

  "Jay! Why you smell like perfume?" His eyes widen, and he begins to smell different parts of his shirt. I know what he's trying to do - buy time - but it ain't gonna work. I'm five seconds from banging him in his face.

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  "Uh ... I don't smell nothin', girl," he answers as he moves me off him. "Every time I come over here, it's some bullshit."

  Pushing me off doesn't do anything but make me angrier. I jump on top of him and grab his shirt. I planned to be on top of him tonight, anyway, but not like this. I know I look like a madwoman trying to fight him in my underwear, but I don't care.

  "Jay! You tell me right now what the fuck is up. I'm tired of your shit. I smelled this same scent the last time we went to the movies. I think you steppin' out on me, so be a man and tell me what's really up."

  "Bitch, you trippin.' I'm gettin' tired of your shit, anyway. All you gonna do is make me cut your ass off," he yells as he stands.

  "Cut me off? Cut me off? Who the fuck you think you talkin' to, Jay? You wish you could cut a bitch like me off."

  "Are you serious?" he asks and starts laughing.

  "You ain't nothin' but a high-class hoe," he says then moves toward the door.

  "Fuck you, Jay. There's plenty of niggas who would want to be with me. I'm telling you right now, if you leave, it's over between us. You won't never taste this sweet pussy again!" I yell as I block him before he reaches the door.

  He walks back toward the couch and I think my threat works, as usual. I know Jay doesn't want to be with nobody but me. He is handsome and all, but I'm far from a slouch. So although he's trying to play it off, T. Styles

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  losing me will hurt a lot. I'm sure of it.

  "I guess you won't be needin' this then, will you?" he asks as he grabs the money off the table. "Tell them punk-ass niggas you fuck wit' to take care of you, bitch. It's ova," he continues as he walks out and slams the door.

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  18

  Daffany

  WAKING UP THIS MORNING FEELS weird. I rise and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up the moment I throw the covers off me. Although my door is closed, I have the strangest feeling that someone is in my room or the apartment. I fall back down on the bed and dive under the covers. I don't move. I can't if I want to. I wait for the light to sneak under my blinds to give me proof that I'm alone.

  An hour later, but still early in the morning, the sun eases me a little. But what is this feeling? Maybe it's the E-pills I be on all the time. I gotta stop this shit sooner or later because it has gotten me in trouble more times than I can count.

  I move toward my bedroom door and open it. Now the feeling is so strong that if somebody is standing right in front of me, I won't be surprised. I walk to the kitchen with my back toward the living room. It feels scary, like the feeling I get only when I watch horror movies alone. It overtakes me.

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  I rinse off a cup and don't lift my head so that my eyes can wander into the dark living room. I'ma start leaving these fucking blinds open more often.

  Eventually, I focus on two things. First, I see the dark figure sitting in my living room on the chair in the corner. My heart is beating so fast that it's preventing me from doing what I need to do - get the fuck out and sav
e my own life. Next, I see the door open slightly every time somebody leaves the building or out of an apartment. My lock is popped. That's how he got in.

  But why is he still here?

  "Get the fuck over here before I blow your fuckin'

  head off." My worst fear is realized.

  I look at him as he demands my attention. I have to face this man. Why the fuck he ain't just take what he wants and leave? Maybe he realized that outside of a thirty-two-inch TV, I really ain't got shit. Maybe he's pissed because I sleep with my door locked and he couldn't get in while the little money I have stays on me. But that don't make any sense 'cuz he coulda broke the bedroom door just like he came into the apartment.

  "Walk over here and sit the fuck down." He is serious, so serious that if I don't comply and I try to run, he'll kill me instantly. I know it.

  I walk toward the farthest chair from him, the one closest to the door, in case I build up enough courage to go for it anyway.

  "I been sittin' in this house all night since you went to sleep. How the fuck can you sleep? How can you lay 126

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  your head down knowin' what the fuck you did to me?"

  I know him. Oh my God, I know him. Why me?

  Why is he here? It's Cliff Shaun, my next-door neighbor. I turn tricks with him sometimes when his wife isn't home. Cliff is nice because sometimes he just wants to talk. And, he'll pay me a hundred and fifty dollars to listen. Sometimes I give him head afterwards, but even that's always quick.

  He's clean and considerate. He never makes me feel like a whore, and I think of him as one of my main customers. So, keeping his business is very important to me. Losing it could possibly mean having a phone or the lights turned off.

  "I don't know what you're talkin' about, Cliff.

  What's goin' on? You're scaring me."

  "I'M SCARIN' YOU? I'M FUCKIN' SCARIN' YOU?

  WHAT ABOUT ME?" he yells as he jumps up. His eyes are red and swollen and he looks like he's been crying all night.

  I'm trembling, shaking so bad that I feel myself getting ready to pee right where I sit. I know if he yells at me again, it will be all over this cloth chair and on my floor.

  "Cliff, please tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help you. Maybe I can help you get out of whatever trouble you're in. Did your wife find out about us? I can tell her it's not true. I don't have no problem with it, Cliff."

  I'm pleading my case, but he looks like a demon T. Styles

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  ready to rip my soul from my body and tear it into pieces.

  "Get dressed, Daffany. Put your fuckin' clothes on," he demands.

  I know you are never supposed to leave with someone when they have a gun. You're supposed to stay right where you are and scream your ass off because if you leave, it's all over anyway. 'Cuz, for real, you will die.

  I wonder if the same thing goes for this scenario since we're in my apartment. Technically nobody's here, and he can easily do whatever he wants and no one would know. My friends won't even come by until twelve or one o'clock.

  "Where are we going, Cliff?" I ask slowly and carefully as to not piss him off any worse.

  "We're goin' to the free clinic. I wanna know if you got it or not. I wanna know if you got the same shit you gave to me, my wife and our unborn child. I wanna know if you are that vicious to do some bullshit like that to me. That's where we're going. I wanna know if you're the reason my fuckin' life will never be the same. So, get fuckin' dressed!" I'm feeling weak. I can't keep my head up. I'm dizzy

  ... I ...

  ~~~~

  I come to and my robe is off but I have on some mismatched pants and shirt. I'm even wearing a pair of tennis shoes I've never worn. I focus as my eyes meet the sun coming through the open blinds. Did I lunch 128

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  out off the E I took last night? Am I still having reac-tions?

  I turn around to look at the door and the same fear that overtook me before I blacked out is back again.

  Then I realize he dressed me and is dead set on taking me out of this apartment. What's scarier is that, although he's probably still here, I feel safer inside than I do out there. My lock is still broken yet taped shut. I guess it's to prevent the door from moving every time somebody goes in or out of an apartment.

  "You up, bitch?" he asks as he walks out of the bathroom. "I took the liberty of going through your shit. I don't see nothin' pertaining to HIV in your apartment. Tell me you got it and we ain't gotta go to no fuckin' clinic. Tell me you got the shit and stop wastin' my mothafuckin' time. Tell me the truth, Daffany!"

  "I don't know what's goin' on. I mean, I'm sorry about your wife and baby and all, but I ain't got no HIV, Cliff."

  "Well, who in the fuck gave it to me then?" he yells as spit escapes his mouth to meet mine. "I thought this was cool. I thought this was real cool, keepin' time the way we did. I felt like you helped save my marriage.

  For real, before you, I ain't wanna touch my wife.

  Maybe I ain't know how to touch her no more. We fought too fuckin' much to wanna do anything with each other, let alone touch," he says, drinking a glass of orange juice he got out my fridge.

  "I found out I had this shit from a routine check-T. Styles

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  up," he explains. He stops and looks at me again. "A routine checkup." He laughs. "Ain't that somethin'?

  Now my fuckin' routine checkups will pertain to checkin' my T-cell count and shit. I figured, after finding out I had it, that maybe it was my punishment for being unfaithful to my wife. But then ..." he continues and starts crying hysterically.

  "But then she got a prenatal checkup and found out she's infected, too. It's fuckin' positive that she has HIV.

  I gave her that shit because I fucked wit' you," he insists.

  "But Cliff, you even said yourself you were seeing somebody else. Uh ... remember?" I say, not knowing if it's a good idea to mention that at this point.

  "But you're a fuckin' whore. Everybody knows that fuckin' whores carry that shit!" he yells. "I didn't get it from nobody else."

  His words hurt worse than the first time I had sex, although they should have bounced off me like a bad check. I am what I am, but I didn't want to have it confirmed by a man who was always kind to me up until this point. That rips my heart apart.

  "I don't want to hear that shit," he continues. "As a matter fact..." he says then pauses and pulls the gun out his pocket. "I don't feel like talkin' no more. Get the fuck up and let's leave. The clinic downtown will tell you right then and there if you're positive or not.

  And if you are, I'ma kill you, the doctor and anybody else in that mothafucka."

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  can't. He's made it clear that the moment I step out that door, I ain't comin' back if he learns what the doctor confirmed months ago. Also, more people could end up dead.

  "Look, I'm not leaving with you. You're not sane.

  Look at how you're acting. You done broke in my fuckin' apartment, went through my shit and now you're telling me I got somethin' I don't know nothin'

  about. And you want me to get in the car with you?

  Now, I'm sorry about Lashonda havin' that shit and I'm really sorry about you havin' it, too, but it ain't me.

  I'm not leaving my apartment." I don't know where that came from. And I certainly don't feel as bold as I sound, but he's holding me at gunpoint and threatening to shoot otha mothafuckas. I can't be down wit' that shit.

  Without saying another word, he grabs me by my neck and steals me. He punches me in my stomach and my face again, two times in the eye. I count twelve blows. I almost don't feel anything anymore. Just drift-ing, something like floating but not quite. Maybe it's for the best
that he kills me. Because if he don't, I'ma still do what I gotta do to make a livin'. I mean, somebody gave me this shit, too. For all I know, it could've been him. He hits me one last time.

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  19

  Parade

  I AM RUNNING LATE 'CUZ my mother makes me go to the store again. "Pick me up some peas, Parade," she says as I accidentally answer my cell phone, thinking it's Cannon.

  She's so jealous she doesn't know what to do. I've been keeping time with Cannon ever since I met him a few days ago. I cut Melvin off, for good, after asking him to give me some money. I spent most of mine on my hair and the rest went to my mother. He had the nerve to tell me no so I decided it was no use being bothered with his short, stubby ass 'cuz outside of giving me a few dollars, he doesn't do much for me.

  Tonight Cannon wants to take me out and meet my mother. I'm nervous, but in a way I want her to see him. I decide against it because I'm afraid she'll embarrass me. But she would fall out if she saw how handsome he is. Model material, baby.

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  good together. That has never happened to me in my life, but I would've been pissed if somebody said that Melvin and I made a nice couple. Yuck!

  I haven't even seen my friends like I used to 'cuz we've been together every day, and anyway, I've seen enough of them bitches to last me a lifetime. Yesterday Cannon pressed me though, saying he wants to get to know everybody who's important to me. No man has ever cared about getting to know my friends and family in the past, but he does.

  I make it back to the building and I'm almost at the apartment door when Markee busts in.

  "Excuse me. Can I talk to you for a minute?" Uuuuggghhh! What does he want? He knows I can't stand to look at him let alone talk to him.

  I reluctantly turn around and say, "What, Markee?