The Sheisty Saga

by T. N. Baker

  My conscience was telling me to do the right thing . . . but my hormones were more influential. I started thinking about the way Tucker had been acting toward me lately, how he hung up on me, his conversations were always short now, he practically lived in a hotel, and all of a sudden he postponed our wedding. I stared at The Damager’s card as I thought about Tucker’s behavior. I couldn’t destroy it. The devil was definitely working overtime. Using every ounce of will in me to fight the temptation, I just couldn’t. My body craved him and another round of his sexual pleasure one last time. Only this time, I would do it right. Wouldn’t be no tapes being made.

  I waited for The Damager in the lobby of the motel. I had already paid for the room under the name Lisa Smith. That should explain what type of motel it was: no ID required, check in, do what you gotta do, and check out, no questions asked. When he walked in and spotted me, he smiled as he headed toward me. My heart started to pound as it usually did whenever I was nervous or doing wrong. In this case I was guilty of both. I thought maybe my memory of him would have been a little off, because looks can be deceiving under the influence of alcohol. Thank God, not in his case. This brother was gorgeous, better looking than I remembered.

  “Hi. Kelly, is it?” he said, looking down at me with that Colgate smile of his.

  “Yes,” I said, smiling back at him and wondering why I gave him my sister’s name.

  “You’re beautiful. And by the way, my name is Julius,” he said.

  “Okay, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather call you Damager.”

  Julius, what kind of name is that? I thought. Besides, the name Damager was more suitable for the situation. My being here could cause a lot of damage to my relationship if Tucker ever found out. If you asked me, there was really no need for us to get personal. I just wanted some dick, and then we could forever go our separate ways.

  I told him that I would also prefer no conversation. The less we knew about each other the better, and just so we could keep this on a business basis, I offered him two hundred dollars.

  He looked at me and said, “You can’t be serious. Look, I don’t know much about you and can’t say that I want to, but I do know you’re getting married, and believe me when I tell you that I’m not trying to stop that from happening. Yes, I think you’re attractive, but it is not that serious, so you need to relax with all the do’s and the don’ts, baby girl. I assume we’re both adults, correct?” I nodded.

  “So, let’s handle our business like adults and have a good time. And put your money away. Last time was a service. This time I want to make you feel good for free. Did you read what I wrote on the back of my card?” I nodded again. “So let’s just get our fuck on . . . no strings attached.”

  Round two: It was on and poppin’!

  Chapter 40

  SHANA

  The past weekend’s conjugal visit was definitely what was up. K.C. was so into me. We discussed everything from his release in six days to building our future together, and even one day having some kids. There was no talk about the plan or any other criminal activity. He didn’t even mention my meeting with Smitty. And speaking of that nigga, I was guessing maybe he’d chilled on running back and reporting the recent beatdown of Chasity. Well, at least I hoped he had. I knew he didn’t forget about it, because he enjoyed that shit too much.

  Maybe Smitty was a real nigga and he wouldn’t snitch me out. All I needed was for K.C. to hear that I was pussy-bumping it for a while. He hated gay people. When he was growing up, before his moms died from a drug overdose, she was one of them hard-boy type lesbians, and she was very open about it. Kids used to tease him, making jokes, calling his moms names like she-man, shim, and dyke. So he didn’t want that nowhere around him. He didn’t play that. Smitty couldn’t have said anything about it, ’cause even though I was the only one out there keeping his bread buttered right now, K.C. wouldn’t even care. He’d probably fuck me up first and then tell me to go fuck myself.

  Speaking of dykes, I hadn’t heard from that bitch Chasity since she got knocked the fuck out, and I wanted to keep it like that. I needed for her psycho ass to stay as far away from me as possible, and just to make sure of that, I wouldn’t even be going up in Honey’s anymore. I put these two girls that I’m cool with on to help me out, push my supply and get that li’l side dough outside of shaking they asses.

  Raina and Silk, they was both some thorough-ass Brooklyn chicks. They didn’t take no shit from them females or the niggas up in Honey’s. When I met them we just clicked for some reason. Another thing I liked about them was that weed was their choice of get-high, so there shouldn’t be no shorts, no getting high off the supply-type shit going on, ’cause that was bad for business.

  I told them about the incident I’d had with that crazy bitch Chasity, and they were ready to beat her ass for me just on GP.

  “Now, that’s what’s up, but nah, it’s cool. Don’t even fuck with her,” I told them. I didn’t want to take it to the extreme unless I had to. In a way, shit worked out for the best, ’cause I needed some rest. Besides, my man was coming home.

  Chapter 41

  EPIPHANY

  I was glad Mali was there with me. I told him that I was going through a stressful time. He could tell I’d been crying, and the last thing I needed him to think was that a nigga made me cry, but his company made me feel a lot better. I didn’t want to get into details, but I touched on my situation with C-God and Tanya just a little. Mali said he knew Tanya. Don’t ask me how, but I wouldn’t have been surprised if the bitch had been around the block a few times, you know what I mean?

  He was interested in what I had to say about C, until I asked about their beef. I guess it was too soon for him to trust me again, ’cause after I asked him about that, he told me that shit was cool and he ain’t wanna talk about the nigga no more. Before, he used to tell me everything—well, I won’t say everything, but a lot. Now he was on some hush-hush bullshit, which was cool. I knew I just had to spend a li’l time with him and shit would be all good.

  Instead of talking, we could play a few hands of cards, order Chinese food, and watch Love Jones. I didn’t care how many times I saw that movie, I’d never get tired of it, maybe because I wished so bad that I had a love like Nina and Darius. I think I had love for Mali when we were together. I was not sure. I thought I loved C-God, but please, now that I thought about it, maybe I didn’t know shit about love.

  I got up to go to the bathroom. “You all right? ’Cause your ass is looking kind of thick in them shorts, girl,” Mali questioned.

  “I’m fine. That’s just good living, that’s all.” I laughed.

  “Yeah, I hear that,” he said.

  On my way back from the bathroom, I decided to spice things up a bit. It was only six p.m., and I wasn’t ready for him to leave yet. I was feeling kinda horny and wouldn’t mind giving him a sample of some of this pregnant pussy (and you know what they say: it’s the best). I walked over and stood in front of him, wearing some Spandex boy-cut shorts that hugged my ass nicely, and a tank top. My pussy was dead smack in his face.

  He looked up at me. “What’s up?” He was playing stupid.

  “Don’t you miss this?” I asked.

  “I’m here, right?” he said.

  I sucked my teeth and sat back down on the couch. He wasn’t stroking my ego the way I wanted him to. I knew he wanted me.

  “Yo, you mad?” he asked, puzzled.

  “Should I be?” I answered back sarcastically.

  “Nah, I don’t even know why you trippin’, ’cause you know I missed you. What, you need to hear a nigga say it?” he said, cracking a smile. Mali always had a nice smile to go with that sweet caramel complexion of his.

  His smile made me smile. “Yes.”

  “Okay, cool. Epiphany, I miss the shit out of you . . . and that, too,” he said, pointing toward what was between my legs.

  We both laughed. I moved in closer, kissed his lips, and asked him to stay with me for the rest
of the night.

  Chapter 42

  SHANA

  Smitty called me in the morning with some good news. He said K.C. was being released that evening, but he wasn’t sure what time yet, and he was gonna pick him up.

  “I thought he had to do a few more days. Not that I’m disappointed or anything, but how did he get out of doing those days?” I asked.

  Smitty said somebody K.C. was cool with pulled some strings in the right places and got him released a couple days early.

  “Somebody like who?” I asked. I didn’t trust those C.O. bitches up in them jails, ’cause I heard they be letting the inmates hit it on the low and shit. “And why he ask you to pick him up?”

  “Yo, ’cause we got some shit—we got some matters to discuss. That’s why.” He laughed. “Any further questions, ask ya man when he get there, a’ight?”

  “A’ight, Smitty. Bye.”

  “Hold up. One more thing, Sha, before I go. Let’s just say he did fuck one of them C.O. bitches in jail. Why would you even trip if it got the nigga home early to be with you? You feel what I’m saying?” His grimey-ass started to laugh.

  “Bye, Smitty.” I ain’t even respond to that shit, ’cause four or five days was nothing. Now, years, that was some different shit. Smitty was a’ight, but I could tell that nigga loved some drama.

  When I got off the phone, I took a good look at the crib, and it was a mess. It was a good thing Smitty was picking him up, ’cause I had work to do.

  I put on Ashanti’s CD and got busy. That was the first time I had listened to her whole CD, and it was hot. I must’ve played that song “Baby When You Call I’ll Come Running” like four times in a row. By the time I finished cleaning, it looked like Mr. Clean ran up in that muthafucka. Shit, I surprised myself. That nigga had better come home and appreciate what he had, ’cause he had me running around trying to be all domesticated and shit. I even went out and got a bucket of fried chicken and a Pepsi to feed his ass when he got home. If that ain’t no wifey shit, then what is? I was that nigga’s wife for real.

  “Yo, open up, Sha. Where you at? I know you got a key made for a nigga to get up in this muthafucka,” K.C. yelled through the locked screen door.

  I rushed to the door, opened it, and jumped right up in his arms.

  “What up, nugga?” I said all hard and shit, ’cause I knew that tough talk turned him on.

  He palmed my ass and shoved that wet, fat-ass tongue of his in my mouth. We must’ve swapped spit for about a good two minutes, until Smitty interrupted the flow, opening his mouth with his hating ass, talking ’bout, “Y’all niggas cut all the mushy shit out. Wait ’til a nigga leave. Damn, dawg, it ain’t like you was locked up and wasn’t getting no pussy, ’cause yo, Sha’s ass ain’t miss them conjugals.”

  “Yo, nigga, stop with all the hating. She ain’t supposed to miss none!” K.C. said.

  “Nah, dawg, that’s what’s up. Yo, Sha, what up with that chicken?” Smitty asked midway through what he was saying. “Oh, shit. That’s New York Fried. Yo, man, they got the best chicken; that’s my word.

  “Anyway, as I was saying, Shana’s a good girl, man. Ain’t too many broads out there that’s gonna hold a nigga down. When you on the streets, maybe, but let a nigga get locked up, a bitch’ll be out. Sha, you a’ight with me though, word,” Smitty said with chicken grease all over his lips.

  “Yo, Sha’s my ride or die chick for life. I ain’t never gon’ leave her fucked up. She good, believe that.” K.C. smiled and patted me on the ass.

  “A’ight, y’all, can we talk about something else?” I said. Even though assurance was all good, I didn’t want to be the topic of discussion anymore.

  “Yo, Sha, you got some liquor or something so we can welcome my man home the right way?” Smitty asked.

  Let me find out this nigga was a freeloader, I thought. “Yeah, I got some Henny in the kitchen.”

  “Oh, that what’s up, baby girl. Yo, go hook us up,” K.C. said.

  I went into the kitchen to fix them a drink. I glanced at the time on the microwave. It was only seven o’clock. It’s gonna be a long night, I thought. When I walked back in the living room, I knew it was gon’ be an even longer night, ’cause these niggas done started playing Madden on the PlayStation, and you know how a nigga forget about time when they fucking with that game shit.

  “Ay, yo, Sha, we got 50’s new shit?” asked K.C.

  “Nah,” I said.

  “Yo, how you from south side and you don’t have that nigga’s shit, man?”

  Before I could respond, Smitty paused the game. “Yo, I got a bootleg copy in the car. I’ma go get it.”

  “Yeah, nigga, ’cause I need to hear it. That shit is hot, yo,” K.C. said, getting hyped.

  When Smitty came back inside, he put on 50, sparked some hydro, and we all played puff, puff, pass. I started to relax as my high took effect, and even though I was kinda heated that this nigga Smitty ain’t knew when to take his ass home, eventually it became all good. An hour later and all was high—drinking, smoking, bopping our heads to the music, and of course them niggas was still playing the game.

  Knock knock.

  “Sha, who that?” K.C. asked.

  “Who? What?” I said, not able to hear the door through the loud music.

  “Somebody knocked at your door. You ain’t got no niggas coming over here to check you, ’cause if so, tell them muthafuckas Daddy’s home, word up.”

  I laughed, trying to play it off, ’cause I had no clue who the fuck was at my door. When I looked through the screen, my high was blown.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Chasity asked. Something was up, ’cause this bitch was too calm.

  “Nah, I can’t talk right now. It ain’t a good time,” I said, brushing her off.

  “Just open the door and let me talk to you, Cream.”

  Damn. Now, why the bitch wanna go there? “Yo, you bugging out. Just get the fuck away from my door please.” I just gave it to her bluntly, ’cause she done made me mad calling me by my stripper name.

  Then the devil surfaced, and she started banging and kicking on the thin-ass aluminum door. “You stupid bitch! Don’t make me fuck you up. Open the fucking door. I just wanna talk.”

  K.C. and Smitty came running to the door to see what the chaos was all about. Before I could think of an explanation, Smitty had my back, taking charge of the situation. He pushed me out the way and opened the door.

  “What the fuck did I tell you before, huh? Stop following me, yo, you broke-down bitch. I ain’t feeling you. It ain’t gon’ happen, so beat it, ’cause I’ma fuck around and catch a case for whipping ya ass, yo. I’m telling you. I should fuck you up right now for knocking on my girl’s door and blowing my muthafuckin’ high. Get outta here!” Smitty really got a good look at her this time, and then it dawned on him where he recognized her from. As a matter of fact, he remembered where he knew both of us from—Honey’s.

  Chasity was yelling so much that after a while I couldn’t even understand what the fuck she was saying, and on top of that, she was walking away pretty fast. I guess Smitty’s crazy-ass put that fear in her the last time.

  “Nigga, what up with that? Keep fucking around with them crazy-ass hoes,” K.C. joked.

  “Nah, man, them hoes don’t be crazy until I give ’em the magic stick. That’s when they lose their muthafuckin’ minds,” Smitty said, laughing and giving K.C. a pound.

  “So, how the fuck the bitch know you was here?” K.C. asked, trying to make sense of what just happened.

  “Yo, she gotta be following me.”

  “Nigga, you been here for how long, and she just now coming?” K.C. said.

  “Maybe she spotted my car. How the fuck I’m supposed to know? That bitch a nut,” Smitty said.

  “Yo, nigga, that’s bad business, and the shit still don’t make sense, ’cause if she spotted your car, how the fuck she know to come to this house and to the side door, at that? What the fuck the bitch do—eenie, m
eenie, miny, mo? Come on, dawg. I’ma leave that shit alone, though, ’cause you think a nigga stupid,” K.C. said, becoming annoyed.

  “Yo, man, it’s that hydro making your ass paranoid and shit. That’s all, nigga. Chill the fuck out. It ain’t what you thinking,” Smitty said as he started to laugh, trying to ease K.C.’s mind.

  I laughed along with him, ’cause I couldn’t understand why he was going through all this bullshit just to cover for me. I barely knew his ass. Shit, he could have easily just said, “Yo, your girl was fucking with that bitch, so take that shit up with her.” But he didn’t, and I was glad he didn’t, but why didn’t he?

  “Yo, I’m out, son. I’ma go take care of that thing we talked about earlier,” Smitty said to K.C.

  “A’ight, nigga. Hit me later,” K.C. said.

  “Yo, Shana, come lock up,” he said as he walked to the door.

  I followed behind him, and on his way out the door he turned to me, cracked a devious smirk, and said, “You owe me, nigga. Big time!” And from that, I knew I was in for the bullshit.

  Chapter 43

  KEISHA

  Time sure does fly when you’re having fun, and I was having too much fun. Julius was such a nice guy, and he made me laugh, too. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had to, and oh my God, the sex . . . The sex was so damn good, you better believe we fucked each other like it was our last time—and it was for real this time. I did give him my cell phone number, though, just so we could keep in touch as “friends” because we had a lot in common.

  For my comfort, I inspected the room to make sure there weren’t any hidden video cameras or anything while Julius showered.

  I didn’t shower, because I didn’t want to leave him alone in the room. Not to say I didn’t trust him, but the video tape thing was still a mystery, therefore everyone was still a suspect.