by Derrick Jaxn
I walked on to the dance floor bobbing my head with the music, trying to establish some rhythm and mesh with the scene. I saw some cute chicks eyeing me a few people over to my right. I edged my way over as Racks on Racks by YC had just come on. That was the biggest track of the year so the club was going crazy.
On my way, I accidentally bumped into a girl from the Forget-usphere Layer. She took what she thought was a hint and started dancing on me. Since I didn't initiate the encounter, it wouldn't count against me so I went ahead and started dancing. She so happened to be about a foot shorter, so I had to stoop down low so as not to lose a knee cap when she started thrusting her ass against it. I gained a new appreciation for the work girls put in when they bent down and danced. My quads were on fire.
Once that workout was over and the DJ switched to Rihanna's Birthday Cake track, it calmed down enough for me to get closer to the girls I was originally aiming for.
I made it over to the Flake-osphere and there were two young ladies looking my way. But experience taught me there was an 88% chance that one of them was off limits. The one who was off limits looked anyway to further complicate my decision-making for absolutely no reason at all, but if I was to choose wrongly, I'd be on the first thing smoking towards the blacklist.
To hell with it.
This was a night out on the town, not Jeopardy.
The closest one to me slowly maneuvered her back against my pelvis, and once her friends gave her the nod of approval, it was on.
Even in the dim lights, my hormones had night vision. This sister was decked out from head to toe, a freakum dress she'd been waiting for the right night to wear showing her curves that ran every stop-light between her knees and shoulders.
In her heels, she was a good 5'10 to my 6'6 with Timbs on, just right and a lot more comfortable than my last dance. And she didn't twerk, but she didn't have to.
Once the melodies of Lotus Flower Bomb by Wale filled the room, her eyes closed, her head leaned back on my chest, and her right hand pulled my hand around her waist so I wouldn't leave while her left hand reached behind us to the back of my neck. She was either feeling me, the song, or both.
My penis was stiffening the more she wound her body against it. Not too much, not too little.
Very seductive.
I mentally vacationed to a secluded room with just her and me, the music playing from the sounds we made.
Naked. Without so much as exchanging first names. Just her moans as the ad-libs to the lyrics and my breathing as the cadence.
I wondered what it'd feel like to explore her inside before her out. Guessing her every hot spot and getting it just right on the first try uninhibited by the rules of social correctness and letting nature take over.
From her hip movement, I pieced together a visual of her on top of me, reaching back to grip my testicles and using the other hand to massage her nipple. Me being too selfish to allow her to steal the show, moving my hips deeper into her on every descent of her vagina.
The longer I fantasized, the harder I got and the more her body language told me that she was fantasizing right along with me.
"Oh, HELL no!" a female's voice rang out.
Chapter 13
It Was a One-Night Extravaganza
We both looked up and saw Chantel barreling through the crowd, yanking the girl by her wrist off of me like a protective mother bear.
I stood there, my imprint protruding through my jeans since I didn't have the girl there to shield me, pissed that out of all people coming to rudely awake me from my fantasy, it was Chantel.
The girl I was dancing with looked at the two of us, confused as to what was going on.
"What's your problem?!" I yelled over the music.
"You think you just gon' be up in here grinding up on my home girl like it's all good? You don't want to talk to me after you done fucked me, but you want my friend. Don't you?" In an instant, every girl in their circle had convicted me as the bad guy. No trial. No jury. They were the judge. Chantel, the executioner.
"How was I supposed to know--"
She reached up to try and slap me but my reflexes yanked my head back just in time. Despite me only dodging her attack, you would think I'd balled my fist up and hit her by the crowd's reaction. Everybody tensed up, preparing to defend her. Not me. Her. Yes, the attacker. They wanted to keep the attacker safe.
"Look, Chan, it was just a dance. I don't even know her, and as for me and you, that's a different story, but this ain't the time nor place."
The girl I'd just danced with, chimed in, "You don't talk to her like that!"
As the seconds went by, the attention on us was spreading like malaria around the club. I felt like such a lame, arguing with a group of girls, knowing good and well there was no way for me to win. To outsiders, it just looked like a situation where I'd been rejected and couldn't handle it. Regardless of what the truth was, perception was both reality and damned good entertainment.
I threw my hands up in defeat, then made my way through the crowd trying to get away as fast as I could, looking back and gladly seeing that I wasn't being followed.
Chantel's manic penchant to ruin anything good in my life was becoming a nuisance.
I got in my car--sweaty, horny, frustrated, embarrassed, horny, confused, horny. That was my chance to do something, someone different, and it went up in flames. Speaking of flames, I could really go for a burger.
I didn't too much care for fast food, but McDonald's was the only thing open so it would have to do.
The drive-through line was wrapped around the building, but the lobby wasn't too packed so I pulled in the parking lot and went inside.
The sweat and steam had loosened my shirt off my body, and the stench of weed and Black & Milds still lingered on my clothes. I needed to get my ass home.
I stared at the menu for a few minutes, trying to use process of elimination to choose my order since everything suddenly looked so delicious. I stepped up to the counter. The cashier looked me up and down like I was inconveniencing her, rolled her neck harder than Shanaynay from Martin.
"What'chu want?" she murmured.
Talk about customer service.
"Let me get a...umm...the number two with no mayo, with a large Coke to drink," I said, still finalizing my choices. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a few girls over to my left who were waiting for their food had started looking at me.
"You know what, make that fry a large too."
Their observation became a bit more obvious at the sound of my upgrade. I figured they must've been hungry, but I had no intention of sharing.
"Is that all you want?" the cashier retorted, trying to shut me up so she could go back to her misery in peace.
I didn't oblige. "Actually, no. With that, go ahead and add a ten-piece nugget. Not the combo, just the nuggets. Honey mustard on that one."
The cashier exhaled obnoxiously while the girls beside me were now blatantly looking to get my attention. I glanced over to get a better look. They were both younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen. From their attire it seemed they'd just left the Thot-osphere Layer to get something to eat too.
"So that's a number two, a large fry and large coke. Right?"
"Yes."
The girls giggled, batting their eye lashes.
"And then after dat you want a ten piece, just the nuggets with honey mustard sauce, right?"
"That is correct."
"Yo total is elem-fifty nine," she said, reaching her hand out and scratching her wig with the other.
I handed her a twenty. The Thot-osphere Layer girls eyes widened as I stretched my hand out to the cashier. One of them nudged the other and said, "You better go talk to him, girl," just loud enough where I could hear even though I pretended not to.
The cashier snatched the money from me, took my change out, and threw it in my hand before turning to go and gather the orders. With attitude, of course.
Instead of continuing to glance, I just turned and
looked at the young girls. The one who was getting peer pressured to come talk to me was short with a nice shape, but her tattoo choices took away from it. She had a few names in script across her chest and a snake going up the length of her leg wrapping around to her cookie. It was supposed to be realistic, but it looked a lot like the kind you saw in coloring books except the tattoo artist had colored outside the lines. Another tattoo was done in fifth grade handwriting on her forearm, probably by a family member when she was too young to see a professional.
Her weave was freshly done but her roots weren't, albeit not too obvious. I just had a keen eye for that since Danielle pointed it out every chance she could so I would appreciate her natural do more.
"What's up?" I said, putting my change back in my pocket and nodding to the girls. I didn't have anything better to do while I waited for my food so small talk wouldn't hurt.
"Mmm, nothin'. What's up witchu?" the one who was supposed to come talk to me responded, with an it's-your-move grin. Her fake eyelashes batted over blue-colored contacts. She had a squeaky voice to match her small frame.
"Coolin'," I said, nonchalantly. "Just tryna get somethin' to eat to kill these munchies."
"Oh, so you burn?"
"Nah, I don't smoke, it's just late. Drank a little, but that's about it."
"Yeah, I can see. You must be real healthy and stuff. Yo arms' so big. You can probably pick me up, huh?"
Her girlfriend snickered. She bit her bottom lip, waited for me to respond.
The thought crossed my mind to laugh it off, get my food, and take my ass home. But Auntie told me to try something new. I was down for some fun and struck out at the club earlier so this was better than nothing. Possibly a sign. Besides, she was laying it on thick and I didn't have room to be too choosy.
"Depends if you're old enough."
"I'm nineteen."
"Okay, then it'd depend on the reason."
"What if I just asked you to?"
"I doubt you'd have to ask."
The cashier interrupted, "I saaaaid, order number 259! Yo food is ready."
She nodded over to her home girl to go get their bags so she could finish her little word sparring with me.
"Well, life too short to be waitin' on everybody else. Who knows, I might not never see you again," she said, suggestively.
"Then see me tonight. Tell ya girl, I got you."
She smiled with victory and went back to her friend to discuss it. I looked over at the cashier who was now waiting on me to pick up my food like I wasn't worth wasting her breath to call out my order.
"Yeah, girl, I'mma call you da-morra," she said to her friend as she walked off.
"You know, I don't remember you telling me your name," I said.
"Daneisha-Shantell, but my friends call me Ju-Ju."
I tried sounding out the syllables in her name to see what that was short for. She saw my struggle.
"Oh, it ain't short for nun, that's just what they call me," she said proudly with a smile.
"Um...okay, cool. Ju-ju. If you ready to roll, we can go ahead and go now."
We walked back to my 99 Grand Am. It was rough-looking, barely working, and not working at all in some of its features. But with the extent I'd just dropped my standards, I didn't feel so concerned.
"Oooh, that's my jay-um! Turn it up."
I turned the volume as high as it would go. The radio was still playing club hits, this one, Bands A Make Her Dance and she began popping in the seat like Juicy J was serenading her.
While she popped, she opened up her bag and pulled out her McDouble then reached down into her purse. She rummaged around a few seconds then out came a travel-sized bottle of ranch. I didn't even know they made those.
"Wait, what is that?"
"Oh, my bad. I ain't mean to be rude. You want some?" She reached the bottle out towards me.
"Nah, I'm cool. Is that ranch dressing or am I trippin'?"
"Nah, it's ranch. I keep mine on deck 'cause you neeeeva know. I had some hot sauce, too, but I ran out earlier when I was at the Chipotle."
I turned my head back towards the road without responding and refused to look again. This was about to be a long ass night.
She polished off the burger before we got in my driveway and threw her trash out in the grass. I was about to tell her to pick it up before we got a fine, but at three in the morning, even my own give-a-damn had clocked out.
"Oooh, this is nice. You must got money."
I let her continue in the house while she took herself on a tour.
"Um...not really. But go ahead and make yourself at home. Got drinks in the fridge if you're thirsty."
She continued walking through. "Ooh, you got shower curtains and everything. I used to have shower curtains before Rodney started hanging on them."
"Rodney who? You gotta boyfriend?"
"El oh el." She sounded out the acronym instead of just laughing out loud. "No. Rodney ain't nothin' but six."
She held up her phone with a picture of a kid in a kindergarten graduation robe.
"Oh, okay, How many siblings you got?"
"How many whet?"
"I said, how many siblings. Like your brothers and sisters. You know, siblings."
"Oh, I ain't neva heard it been called that befo'. I got three older brothers."
"That's what's up. Rodney, he's the youngest?"
"Oh nah, Rodney is my son, silly," she chuckled.
I took a hard gulp and sat on the couch.
"Your son? And he's how old?"
"Six. I know, I know. I started young, but it's a'ight. He with his lil' brother at my mama 'nem house right now. Probably bein' bad."
Thinking to myself how afraid I was to ask just how many children she had at nineteen and whether or not I felt like knowing the truth or just shutting up and eating my food, I chose the latter.
I was officially dealing with a real-life hood rat. Like the kind Craig dated in the movie Friday. The positive was that she was easily impressed. Actually, she was just plain easy. She still didn't know my first name and there she was, in my house.
On the other hand, she was a little too easy. Somewhat suspiciously. She didn't give off any bad vibes outside of having absolutely no class, but I'd have to keep an eye on her. She was a little too cognizant of my things.
And sex was now out of the question. Not only was she fertile as hell, but if I slipped up and got her pregnant, my life would practically be over. I could see it now, her getting the child support check and going straight to the grocery store to restock on travel-sized bottles of hot sauce and ranch to go with her fast food. Hell no.
I finished eating my feast of delicious carbs, fat, and sodium then went into the room to settle down. She took her shower, then came back with her weave detached from her head.
Nothing was surprising me anymore, though.
We settled in bed and I purposely played sleep until my play became the real deal.
The next morning, I heard loud claps coming from the living room.
"I swear to GOD!!" clap "If a bitch," clap "ever fuck my baby daddy," clap "while my kid's in da house, she gon' have to see ME!!!" clap
I walked out into the living room to check on the ruckus. "You all right in here?"
She looked pissed and then disarmed upon eye contact, "My bad. Yeah, I'm a'ight. I had to come watch my stories this morning and these ho's just be making me so mad. Oh em geee!!"
I didn't know soap operas aired on the weekend so I stepped over to the couch to see what she was watching.
Should've known. Maury.
On this episode, best friends were confessing to sleeping with their friend's boyfriends and getting pregnant. Nothing new.
I needed to get her out of the house, and quick.
A faint smell had hit me when I walked over to the couch. I looked over to the kitchen and didn't see anything on the stove although it smelled like it.
"You cooking somethin'?"
"Oh nah, that's ju
st my hair."
"I don't see nothing in your hair," I said, examining her scalp.
"No, my other hair. It's in the oven. When it's real dry, it curl better, long as you moisturize it right after. My suh-stah do hair and taught me dat a long time ago."
"Wait, you have hair in my oven?!" I ran over to the oven, yanked it open, and smoke billowed out filled with Dax hair grease and cocoa butter.
"Whet?! You act like you got a better way to do it."
"That's a damn fire hazard, Daneisha. I mean JuJu. I mean whatever your name is."
She sucked her teeth, "First off, it's Daneisha-Shantell. If you gon' say it, say it right. Second off, you doin' too much. It's...jest...hair." She rolled her neck as she stressed the last three words then rolled her eyes to top it all off.
I'd had enough.
"Maybe it's time we go ahead and wrap this up," I said walking to the room.
She had already overstayed her welcome before she even got there but I tried. I really did.
We got in the car so I could drop her off, pretending to ignore her as she called her friend to open up the door on the way back to her house. I think it was her house. Actually, I didn't even care. I just wanted her gone.
Maybe I was getting to be a little high-maintenance. Maybe I was just irritable from all the stress I'd had lately. Or maybe something new just wasn't for me.
Maybe I needed that old thing back.
Chapter 14
Yo Ho Don't Want You No Mo'
"Okay, Momma, you ready?"
"Yes, son. You starting to worry me. Go on, now. Say it."
"I GOT THE JOB!" I yelled into the phone at the top of my lungs.
I was standing on the balcony of my apartment in my boxers after waking up to an email from the recruiter I'd interviewed with a few weeks prior. I guess I did enough to impress him after all.
"Boy, stop yelling in my ear. I'm already old. You want this to be my last announcement I ever get, huh?" she said jokingly.
"Momma, you're not old. Fifty-something-year-olds run marathons and having babies these days."
