He's Just A Friend
Page 27
Let me call Fancy, Darius thought. I know we just met a few days ago but I need to bust this second nut before my balls erupt. All I really need is a warm pulsating pussy. And since I’m in Oakland, based on proximity, Fancy happens to be option number one.
Lowering his bed, Darius retrieved Fancy’s business card from his nightstand which only contained her first name, e-mail address, and phone number.
Fancy answered on the first ring, “Hello.”
“Hey, Ladycat. What’s up?”
“Who’s this?” Fancy replied.
Yeah, right. Women. Like she didn’t have caller ID. “Darius, you wanna hang for a minute?”
Fancy snapped, “I don’t just hang. You need a destination. Call me back in five.”
“Whateva nigga you talkin’ to on the other line can wait. You’ve got a real man now.”
“Apparently not, because a real man would respect my choice to call back. Hold on.”
“Yeah, she’s no fool,” Darius mumbled, waiting for Fancy to click back over.
“Hey, I apologize. I’ve had a pretty hectic day. I was just finishing up scheduling an interview for a job and earlier I was surfing the employment section.”
“Okay. That’s cool, I guess,” Darius said pretending to be interested. “So when do you start work?”
“Who knows? You know how bad this job market is. I would’ve started at this property management company today if they’d offered a managerial position. Hey, maybe you can give me a job with your company. I’ve got great skills.”
“Well, let me invite you over for a private screening. Who knows? Maybe I’ll cast you in one of my films.”
“Thanks, but I’m not that easy. I don’t do bedside interviews. Besides I already have plans. In fact, I need to start getting ready for my date, but if you’d like, you can take me out this Saturday night and we can talk. Call me tomorrow. Bye, Darius.”
“Talk?” Darius shook his head. “Bye, Ladycat.”
“By the way, I like that nickname. I’ll keep it. Good-bye.”
Ladycat was just like all the rest of the women and Darius knew Fancy wasn’t independent. But she was a fool if she thought Darius would pay her bills and give her money like Byron. Kimberly Stokes was the only pussy Darius ever had or would pay for. Women. Thinking of tricksters, he was still holding the cordless in his hand when his mom’s name popped up on the caller ID.
Reluctantly, Darius answered, “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart. How are you?”
“Depressed,” Darius lied. “Can’t believe my brother is actually dead. But,” Darius sniffled, “I’ll be okay. Eventually. I guess.”
“Oh, honey, I know it’s so sad. When are you coming back to L.A.? Your father and I need to sit and talk with you about finding a job. And you still need to sign off on this check.”
Forcing tears, Darius cried, “I just said I was depressed. I can’t think about anything right now. I need time to myself.”
“Okay, honey. Don’t cry. But Wellington is threatening to—”
Darius cried louder.
“Never mind. It can wait. I’ll deal with Wellington. Just let me know when you can make it back to L.A. Sometime this week or at least before the end of January would be good.”
Sniffling, Darius replied, “Sure, Mom. Whateva you want.”
“Okay, sweetheart. I know you’re sad but you really didn’t know Darryl that well.”
“What?!” Darius yelled, “I don’t believe you! I’m suffering and as usual you’re being selfish.”
“You’ll be all right. I’ve got to go. I love you, sweetie. Call me tomorrow.”
“You sure don’t act like you love me. Bye.” Darius lay the phone beside his thigh. The person his mom truly loved was her husband and anything Wellington said went, even if it was against her only child.
“Fuck ’em!” Darius didn’t need his mom. Or Wellington. Looking up in the mirror, Darius’s dick stood alone, lonely with no playmates, pointing toward the ceiling. Darius had to release his frustration so he picked up the cordless and dialed option number two, Kimberly Stokes.
Darius felt his bed move again. This time the imprint had vanished. Ma Dear was gone. Hopefully his grandmother hadn’t given up on him. Dead or alive, Ma Dear was still the only woman he could trust.
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Copyright © 2003 by Mary B. Morrison
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