“Bye Auntie Tatum,” they said in unison.
Tatum switched her wide hips out of the house and jumped into her Benz truck, racing to Kim’s house. It didn’t matter how much she planned, she could never seem to make it out of her house on time. She applied her lip gloss as she drove, finishing off the final touches of her natural look.
Tatum was flawlessly beautiful. She had the most remarkable clear cocoa skin with long, thick, black hair. She always dressed stylishly and while Sasha always dressed the sexiest, all of the girls gave it to Tatum for her trendsetting fashion. She would put things together that you wouldn’t see on the runway for months. She was good like that.
Like tonight, she wore her faded vintage-looking, ripped jeans with a fresh, tight-fitting Dior tee. Accessories were key to setting her apart. She wore a bunch of pearls stacked around her neck along with her Pandora charm necklace and charm bracelets. Her red and silver Guiseppe sandals finished the outfit before it even got started.
She and Sasha definitely went tit for tat on the shoe game.
“There goes the black bitch,” Sasha sang playfully, referring to Tatum who was now pulling up.
Tatum was still pissed at Chris, but immediately perked up when she saw her girls. She was happy to see them.
“Wassup yellow bitch, brown bitch!”
Tatum greeted Kim and Sasha as she hopped out of the truck and crossed the street to Kim’s house. This little greeting was something the girls had been doing since childhood and when Neli joined the circle, she became the white bitch.
“Where’s the white bitch?”
“In the house still getting dressed,” Sasha responded with slight attitude.
By this time Kim had dressed in her black painted-on catsuit that showed off every angle of her curvy figure.
Neli was still inside trying to perfect her look, attempting her hardest to outshine the crew. Finally she came out dressed in cream-colored booty shorts, a cream and gold halter, and all gold accessories, including Kim’s gold sandals.
“Okaaay, white bitch!” The crew all yelled out and then burst out laughing.
Kim’s nosy neighbor, Ms. Ike, just looked at the girls and rolled her eyes, never tolerant of their young and wild shenanigans. Back in her day, girls didn’t carry themselves in that manner.
“Take your ass in the house! You just mad ’cause ya old ass ain’t going nowhere.” Kim made sure that she was loud enough for her to hear.
“Kim, stop! Y’all ready to go?” Sasha asked anxiously. After all these years she still carried her Southern accent. Her family had originated from Atlanta, Georgia. “Tatum, you driving?” she threw in there.
“Why me?” Tatum asked, rolling her eyes.
“Cuz you got the truck, black bitch,” Neli joked.
They laughed and with that, headed for the chromed-out Escalade.
“Shotgun!” Kim screamed, hopping in the passenger seat as Neli and Sasha slid in the back.
The girls headed for the city bumping the new Beyoncé while every group of guys they passed either in cars beside them, or congregating on street corners, tried to get their attention. Kim turned down the music.
“Yo Tatum, stop over there so I can get some bud.”
Tatum smiled at her crazy friend, and made a left turn, pulling up to the corner where all the local hustlers were posted.
“Kim, hurry up,” Sasha whined, ready to go.
“Sash, shut it up! Anyway, ain’t that ol’ boy?”
“Oh yeah,” chimed Tatum, jokingly, “that is Chauncey, looking all good.”
Tatum was only teasing Sasha with her worrisome self. But when Tatum looked in the rearview to catch Sasha’s reaction, she instead caught Neli with a crazy expression on her face.
She seemed nervous and Tatum wanted to know why.
Kim hopped out of the car and strutted over to Shoty, the dude that always had the quality weed. Kim didn’t know if they called him Shoty because he smoked so much, or because he was always letting off his gun, or maybe it was because his sexy ass liked to give chicks backshots.
Either way Kim was going to find out. Word around town was that Shoty had just came up, and Kim knew he had just copped a new Audi. She was trying to get a piece of that pie. And if you didn’t know it, now ya do: dudes had to pay to lay. That was the way the game went.
Kim felt as if her pussy was simply too good to be free.
“Sasha, run in the store please and get me some Big Red,” Tatum asked, knowing Sasha was dying for a reason to get out of the car and show Chauncey how good she looked. She knew her friend well. Tatum also wanted to ask Neli in private what the look was all about.
“I’ll go,” Neli blurted out, with a little too much excitement.
“No, I got it,” Sasha shot back, noticing Neli’s eagerness and catching Tatum’s hint.
Sasha gave Tatum a smile and stepped out of the car slowly, showing nothing but legs. “God damn.”
“Shit!”
The ghetto praises in the form of grunts and obscenities rang out from the group of thugs outside of the bodega. Sasha glanced over at Chauncey who sat with his door opened and one leg out of his 750Li BMW.
He was still the most lickable just downright sexy, chocolate man she’d ever seen and Sasha still loved him very much.
Chauncey spoke on his cell phone with a serious look on his face and glanced up at Sasha as she walked into the store.
Sasha didn’t catch that glance.
She stared around the store, trying to buy time and not really wanting to walk back out alone. Her confidence had slowly dwindled at the sight of Chauncey. Even his presence alone was that dominant.
“Can I have two packs of Big Red?” she finally asked softly.
She caught the Mexican guy behind the counter staring at her breasts. Go figure . . . Just as she turned to walk out she felt a hand on her shoulder.
She looked up and there were two butt ugly, drunken hooligans invading her personal space.
“Get off of me!” Sasha snapped, pushing them and trying to get by, but they were all up on her and they reeked of weed smoke and alcohol.
“Damn, you pretty as shit. Let me do some things to you, ma,” one of them said, a little too close for comfort.
“Nigga, get the fuck off her! Now, muthafucka!”
Sasha immediately recognized that voice and startled along with her unwelcomed visitors.
That voice was one that spoke with so much authority, reminding her of her daddy. The men eased up immediately and their smiles faded to innocent looks. They obviously had no clue. Everyone else knew that Sasha was Chauncey’s and nobody dared to mess with her. Everyone looked out for her; they knew she was the only woman that he ever loved.
“I can take care of myself,” Sasha spat, storming past him.
“It don’t look like that to me . . . and what the fuck you got on anyway, out here on the Ave with Kim, huh?” Chauncey asked this in a way that demanded an answer.
“I got on what a single girl going to a club to get a nigga would have on,” Sasha responded with confidence, turning on her heels with her hand on her hip and staring him dead in the eye.
But on the inside she was shivering, he was so intimidating.
Chauncey paused for a minute and then a sly smirk grew on his face. He knew he still had her.
“Well be good, kid . . . go find that nigga, alright?”
He smiled, turned to walk away, and got in his car where a female was now sitting in his passenger seat. Sasha could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she hurried back to the truck, and she remained quiet throughout the entire ride.
When they finally arrived at the club everybody was in a completely different mood. Tatum was relaxed and collected, Kim was high as the night sky, Neli was super anxious and thirsty to meet some ballers, and Sasha was in a zone reflecting on her encounter with Chauncey. They got out of the car and the breeze in the summer’s air greeted them, kissing their young and beautiful faces, and introducing them to
the city.
The club was packed, and from the moment they flashed their IDs, Kim’s unnoticeably false, all the guys, even the ones with money who usually played it low-key, were going crazy trying to get the attention of anyone in their circle.
“I definitely need some drinks!” Kim screamed over a Dirty South track. The other three girls headed over by the VIP. Everyone knew the drill. If it was a night like tonight and the VIP was booked, hang out in the area until one of the clowns invited them in there, and then they would totally ignore him and use him for his drinks.
“Tatum, do you know who that was in Chauncey’s car?” Sasha asked, speaking for the first time since they entered the club.
“Get over him, girl,” was Tatum’s blunt and simple answer.
“I am,” Sasha lied with a whine. “But who was it?”
Tatum just rolled her eyes and took the drink that Kim handed her.
“What’s this?” Tatum asked, smelling the concoction.
“Grey Goose and cranberry, courtesy of the lame by the bar with the braids.”
“Who the fuck still wears braids?” Tatum snickered.
The girls all giggled, and then took their drinks, raised them in the air, smiled at the lame, and drank them down.
“Tasha,” Neli discreetly whispered in Sasha’s ear.
“Girl, you drunk already? My name is Sasha.”
“No . . . Tasha is Chauncey’s new girl,” Neli responded, a slight smirk hiding behind her lips.
“Tasha from Eastwick?” Sasha shouted hurt, upset, and surprised all in one. She turned to Tatum with wide eyes. “Tatum, Tasha from Eastwick?”
Tatum shot Neli a look that could’ve killed.
She didn’t understand why Neli felt it necessary to tell Sasha that.
“What about Tasha?” Kim asked, completely gone and already downing her second drink.
“That’s Chauncey’s new girl. What the fuck? It’s only been a week!” Sasha screamed over the loud music, hurt and mad as hell simultaneously.
“That is not Chauncey’s girl and Tasha’s a fucking slut,” Tatum snapped, knowing damn well Chauncey would not even play himself by claiming a low-class hoe like Tasha.
“Tasha’s a fucking hoodrat!” Kim added, as if she wasn’t the same.
“Don’t worry about her, Sash,” Tatum reassured her, ending the discussion as she grabbed Sasha’s hand and pulled her on the dance floor. Jay-Z’s “Excuse Me Miss” was playing and even though it was a classic, it was Sasha’s song. Neli’s self-assured smirk still revealed that she was satisfied with the little havoc she had wreaked into Sasha’s evening. However, it wasn’t long after that the girls were drinking and laughing away the entire conversation. They drank up the bar and danced some more, until their feet were sore and it was time to go.
4:15 A.M.
Everyone started clearing out of the club due to serious overcrowding. All four girls, tired and tipsy, some more than others, stumbled out of the club laughing at some cornball dude who had the audacity to ask for a ride home with them. Tatum handed the valet her stub for the truck, and as she glanced around the crowd, still shaking her head, she caught eyes with the sexiest, most appealing man she’d ever laid eyes on. She quickly looked away, seeming uninterested but really attempting to collect herself.
Just in that second of a glance though, Tatum had seen it all. He was brown-skinned, the color of good coffee, with shoulder-length dreads pulled back. If Tatum had to guess, she would say he was Jamaican. And for some reason, his aura read important.
“Damn, girl, that nigga look like somebody from Shottas!” Kim screamed drunkenly. The other girls swiveled their heads to see but Tatum knew exactly who she was talking about.
“Kim, stop being so damn loud,” Tatum demanded in an irate whisper. Kim snapped back with her garbled drunken slur.
“But the nigga look good as hell, shit. If the nigga look good, Imma say he look good, if he look like the nigga from Shottas, Imma say he look like the muthafuckin’ nigga from Shottas! ”
“He looks crazy, like a killer,” Neli assessed, dismissing the sexy dread. Neli wouldn’t know a real man if he smacked her in the face, Tatum figured.
“Like a Shotta!” Kim repeated.
“Shut up, Kim!” Tatum and Sasha screamed.
“Nah, don’t worry about it . . . shorty, I get it now and then, ya know,” the sexy dread spoke in his deep voice with a slight Jamaican accent.
The girls turned to face him and were speechless. Tatum squeezed together her lower lips. The man was boss status fly, no questions about it. He turned his attention to Tatum.
“Ya know I caught ya eye a second ago and I was wondering if later on I can put something in ya stomach?”
The girls sat there with shocked expressions as Tatum unknowingly dropped her jaw.
“That’s what the fuck I’m talking about.” Kim smiled, biting down on her finger seductively. “I appreciate a nigga that gets to the point.”
He chuckled before answering.
“I was actually talking about food, for ya friend here.”
He turned his attention back to Tatum and stared her dead in the eyes. “And might I say, ya beauty outshines every female out here tonight, no bullshit.” He took a pull of his blunt and simultaneously answered his cell phone. “Excuse me for a minute.”
While he did this, it gave the girls time to check him out in full view. Kim could hardly keep her mouth closed. The man was fine. His Audemars Piguet diamond watch and gold and diamond linked chain were his only accessories to his simple but sexy attire. He rocked a staple black V-neck and jeans, that although were casual, seemed tailored to his frame, with fresh red-bottom sneakers. His dreads were neat but not pretty and his face was chiseled, sexy with a fresh edge up. But damn it was all about those lips—the way he licked them—and those eyes. Those eyes pierced through Tatum’s body and gave her the shivers.
They looked cold but Tatum could see the warmth beneath them.
“I apologize, ladies, I must dismiss myself, but maybe we can take a rain check on that food, Ms. Lady.”
Tatum finally spoke through her mesmer-ization. “I don’t . . . even know you.”
He tittered at her weariness. “It’s just food, sweetheart, not marriage . . . not yet, anyway,” he added with a wink. Tatum couldn’t help but crack a foot-long smile exposing her perfect white teeth, which complemented her dark-brown complexion. He didn’t take his eyes off of her. He wanted her.
“That smile gonna be the death of a man, I promise you. By the way, the name is Respect.”
“But that ain’t what your momma named you,” Tatum shot.
“But it’s what I demand,” he shot back.
This guy didn’t miss a beat, and Tatum thoroughly enjoyed it.
It took a confident, strong brother to even catch Tatum’s attention, and he had it in full.
“Yo Ree!” a man standing next to a white Mercedes-Benz truck called out, and then he pointed to his watch.
Respect simply put his finger up and the man shut up and got in the passenger seat of the truck.
“Well, my name’s Tatum. That’s yours?” Tatum asked with a head nod toward the cocaine-white Benz truck.
“Yeah, why . . . you impressed?” he asked, licking his lips and wondering if that was her type.
Just then Tatum’s own Benz truck rolled up and the valet hopped out and handed her the keys.
“Nah, not really, I got it in black.”
She smirked, playing his game, causing him to crack a smile.
“Respect, Ms. Lady,” he nodded, entranced. “So may I have your phone number to call you up sometime?” he asked ever so politely.
Tatum wanted to straddle him and rip him apart just because he was so damn sexy.
And the fact that she hadn’t had any in a year didn’t hurt either.
“Let me get yours,” she insisted, handing him her phone. He contemplated a minute, not one to usually give out his number, but then he to
ok her phone and punched it in. As he handed her the phone back, their fingers brushed against one another’s and they both looked into each other’s eyes, recognizing the electricity. It was magnetic.
He politely said good night to the ladies and took one final look at Tatum. There was something so pure, so special about her. She had that something that made a nigga want to take care of her even though he recognized her quiet strength immediately. They locked eyes for one final moment and as he turned and walked away, he whispered one final “Respect.”
“Yo Ree, who was that?” his short, fat comrade asked as Ree hopped in the driver’s seat.
“Her name’s Tatum . . . she’s gorgeous, right?”
“Hell yeah, shorty bad as hell. Why you ain’t take her home and smash that? You know how we do these bitches!” Fatso asked as him and Deets, one of Ree’s other soldiers, cracked up laughing.
“Not this one, Fats . . . not this one,” Ree answered, as he relit his blunt and drove off.
When Kim opened her door it was 4:55 A.M. and she couldn’t wait to get to sleep. Every week was the same shit. Partying until she got drunk and fucked up, sometimes she’d go home with somebody, other nights like tonight, she didn’t. It was all so redundant.
She peeled off her catsuit and sat on the edge of her bed in her bra and thong listening to her messages on her cell phone.
“You have three new messages. First message, 12:14 A.M . . . Yo Kim, its L. I’m trying to see you tonight, ma, my girl went out. Hit me. . . . End of message, to delete this message press seven . . . deleted. Next message, 1:12 A.M. . . . Yo Kim its Black, yo I’m horny as hell, ma, I’m thinking ’bout you, them big-ass titties. Call me. . . . End of message . . . deleted. Next message, 1:15 A.M. Hey baby girl, I miss you. End of message.” Kim’s heart stopped, she had to hear it again. “To delete this mes—.” She quickly pressed five. “Message will be saved for seven days.” After playing the message three times, Kim sat on her bed debating whether to call him or not.
His name was Blair. She always found it funny, a black man named Blair, especially since he resembled the actor Blair Underwood and she would always tell him that. He was a corporate brother, into stocks and shit. Fine, paid, a young thirty, smart . . . and married.
Thicker Than Water Page 2
