Kismet

by Raynesha Pittman

  “Give me a chance to prove it to you then.”

  I started my car and drove off.

  Chapter 10

  Ghostly Visions

  The next few days that went by, I either gained a conscience or needed glasses. On my way to lunch with Stephanie, I could have sworn I saw Dre getting on the elevator as I was walking out. I did a double take, but the doors had closed before I could get a better look.

  Then yesterday, as I ran along Venice Beach at 5:00 a.m., I thought I saw him sitting at one of the bus stops watching me. When I started walking that way, the bus pulled up and the look-alike got on. Sade’s birthday was that weekend, so that’s what I chalked up the visuals of Dre to.

  I couldn’t wait to go to Vegas with Big Ant. I was going to celebrate my daughter’s birthday and get revenge at the same time.

  I realized I only saw red since I was back in contact with Keisha and her crew. I had to get them back and prove to these hoes that the tables had turned, and I was the most desirable. I would avenge the way I was treated in the past, get to have sex with one of the men I was interested in back in the day, all the while celebrating my baby’s birthday. If I won anything, it would get placed on her prepaid card to go along with her gift.

  I knew I needed to check the PO Box next week because I was sure the Jeffersons would send pictures. They had sent a letter two months ago saying that they decided to tell Sade they were not her parents, but her godparents. They wanted her to know she had a mother and father out there who loved her and still took care of her, but they were just too far away to see her.

  I woke up at 5:00 a.m. Friday morning to get prepared for my trip with Big Ant. I needed to pick him up without being seen, so I asked him to meet me behind our old elementary school, which was in walking distance from his house. As an extra precaution, I drove my Chrysler, which I hadn’t driven to my old neighborhood so no one knew I owned one. It had been painted too. It was now burnt orange and trimmed in silver with cream interior.

  I had packed two Louis Vuitton travel bags, not knowing what I wanted to wear. Usually when I’m in Las Vegas, I go to the outlets for a little shopping, but I wanted to party this trip.

  The crush I had on Ant was still there, and he had gotten even more handsome. They didn’t call him Big Ant as a cliché like they called fat guys Slim. He had earned his nickname. Big Ant was seven foot one and weighed about 250 pounds. Everything on him was huge—or at least I hoped so.

  When we were younger, he would grip basketballs in each of his huge hands and pretend to throw them at us without ever letting one go. He was a lot of man, even back then. He was a gorgeous big man. He had tight, slanted eyes like mine, but he really had Asian heritage. He was born from an Army brat of the Vietnam War. His mother was half Vietnamese and black.

  He wasn’t bright-skinned, yet he was far from being dark; more like a toffee color. He had his daddy’s big lips and ears that sat to the side of his face like minisatellites, but they didn’t affect him being handsome.

  This may sound weird, but Ant always had this fresh laundry scent, which made me want to smell him. I would push past people to sit next to him just to inhale his fragrance.

  When I made it to the school, he was sitting on the steps that lead to the gym. “Man, sitting up here brought back all kinds of memories. I remember the first day I sat and watched you really hoop. Savannah, you had a shot.”

  I smiled and thanked him. “Ant, we have four hours on this road. Can you roll up so we can stop in about an hour and eat?” He dug in his bag and pulled out two tamales.

  “I already thought about that. You know she came by screaming so I copped us one.”

  I wasn’t trying to be mean, but my mouth was my worst enemy. “I wouldn’t dare eat another bathtub tamale. It can’t be safe. You enjoy tasting Marie and Poncho’s dirty asses, and in an hour, I’ll stop and get me something to eat.”

  There was a look of disappointment on his face. “All right, I’ll taste Marie’s ass, but don’t act like you haven’t tasted her ass before. You used to get paper food stamps from your daddy and buy like eight of them with your fat ass. I see a lot has changed. Your ass is still fat, but now when I say that, I mean your butt and not your body.”

  I was two seconds away from snapping on his ass about bringing up me and food stamps or me being overweight as a child, and then he pointed out my changes—smart man.

  We smoked and talked for two hours before my hunger caught up with me, so we pulled over in Barstow and ate at IHOP. Ant held the door open for me as I walked in. Once he was fully in, three little boys ran up to him and asked for his autograph.

  I laughed because I assumed the kids thought he was an NBA superstar because of his height, weight, and the way he was wearing dark glasses until one of the little boys said, “Mr. Wallace, is it true you’re going to a NBA training camp this year?”

  Ant shook the little boy’s head with his hand and said, “Yes, it’s true. I can’t play college basketball forever, can I, man?”

  The little boy said, “No,” and his father approached and shook Ant’s hand.

  “You gave them hell last month, son.” Ant looked the older white man directly in his face, giving him full eye contact, and thanked him.

  We made it to our table with the entire restaurant watching us. “What was all that about?”

  Come to find out, Mr. Anthony Wallace was a big-time college basketball star at California State University at Berkley. My uncle had said Keisha’s sister, who I still hadn’t managed to see or find out who she was, and I were the only two who made it. He must have meant out of the girls, because everyone seemed to know Anthony Wallace, power forward from Cali.

  “What the hell are you still doing walking around South Central LA like a nobody? I can’t believe you even sleep down there when you’re in town. You don’t have to put up with them lowlifes.”

  He put his index finger over my mouth. “Damn, you talk too much, and you always talking shit. My mama and daughter live there, and that’s where I’m from. Even if I get picked up by a NBA team, I’m doing my mama just like you did your daddy. I’m going to hook her house up, get her a security gate and a nice-ass alarm system. I’m going to keep a little change in my boys’ pockets like Tyrone and Javier, who ain’t never leaving the hood, to keep her extra protected. Now shut up and order you something so we can get ready to party.”

  He was dumb as fuck to think his life would be that easy as a celebrity, but who am I to bust his bubble? He would learn the hard way.

  Once we arrived at the hotel, we showered separately and hit the casino. We started at the crap tables, and then ended up playing blackjack. It was too hot in the daytime to move around, so we decided to gamble at the same hotel we were staying at until sunset.

  Ant was more of a gentleman than I thought. Every chair I sat in, he pulled out, doors I went through, he ran to open, and he paid for every drink I ordered that didn’t come free.

  He suggested we put on our party clothes now so we would not have to go back to the room anytime soon. I didn’t want to be the party pooper, but I was really enjoying myself with him and didn’t want to be separated by the loud environment of the club, so I asked to go sightseeing instead.

  I arranged a two-hour-long limousine ride around the Strip with stops made at our request. I had never had so much fun. Ant made the driver stop where Tupac was shot and made him block traffic on an already busy street while we paid our respects. Ant said a few words of thanks to the deceased rapper with his lighter lit.

  I had passed this area at least eight or nine times, and it never crossed my mind that one of my favorite rappers was shot below my wheels. I hate that “out of sight, out of mind” shit, and I do it all the time. I was crying my eyes out at my high school’s football game when the radio DJ announced he died in the hospital. I played all his songs on repeat and promised to stay a devoted fan. Almost fifteen years later, I had to be reminded by a man five years younger than myself to nev
er forget his legacy.

  We rapped every Tupac song that we could think of. Later, Ant said he had done the same for Biggie in Hollywood. He loved both rappers in different ways and couldn’t place one over the other. He thanked them both for paving the way.

  After we were done rapping our heads off, he asked me to close my eyes. “How can you ask me to close my eyes? I can’t stop smiling and laughing long enough to see out of them now.”

  Throwing his hands up, he said, “Just shut up for once. Damn, your mouth will make you miss out on a lot of shit.” I rolled my eyes, and then closed them.

  He kissed my lips softly four times, and then went into my mouth with his tongue and wrapped it around mine. I felt him dig in his pocket. I could tell he didn’t want the kiss to end, but he needed to find whatever he was looking for in his pocket.

  Ant pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and handed it to the driver. He had won $1,500 on the crap table. “Ay, man, give us one more hour and roll up that window.” He pointed to the tinted window that separated us from the driver, and then continued kissing my lips.

  In between those kisses, he managed to say, “Sorry I turned you down when we were kids. I know I fucked up. Lie back so I can make it up to you.”

  I was down for some freaky shit, but fucking in the backseat of a limo with a driver was a little bit much. “Ant, you must be drunk. I am not fucking you in the back of this limo, and you need to start thinking like a future celebrity. What if he sells this to a tabloid? I could just see it now—NBA superstar fucks childhood friend in the backseat of a limo while holding a memorial for Tupac and Biggie.”

  He covered my mouth with his hand and cut me off. “Na-Na, whatever happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Ain’t that why you brought me here?”

  He continued kissing me, but not before I was able to get out, “Don’t call me Na-Na.”

  After laying me back on the seat, he ate the hell out of my pussy. I watched his ears flap like Dumbo flying away . . . That’s how fast he was moving his head. It felt so good. The only thing killing the mood was that I kept getting stuck to the leather seat.

  I could see the driver watching us more than the road. Something about the driver watching turned me on even more, so I pulled my titties out so he could have something nice to look at. I lay back and let Ant eat my pussy all the way back to the hotel. He didn’t even attempt to fuck me. When the limo stopped, he licked his lips and drank the champagne straight from the bottle.

  It was now a quarter to 10:00 p.m., and even though I had done a lot of drinking, the head he gave me made me hungry.

  “Can we please go eat now?”

  Ant flagged down a cab. “What type of food you want to eat? ’Cause all I’m trying to eat tonight is you.”

  He hadn’t even washed his face. “You are not riding around Las Vegas with my pussy all over your face.”

  He jumped in the cab, then said, “Watch me!”

  I shook my head and said, “Seafood.”

  The cabdriver took us to this nice little crab shack that also served lobsters. The food was great. After we had eaten, we called it a night to rest for Saturday night. I thought Ant would be mad when he saw me headed to the other bedroom and not the one he was already occupying. Instead, he yelled, “I’ll get your ass tomorrow.”

  I couldn’t believe it, but I didn’t wake up until almost two in the afternoon Saturday. When I came out of the bedroom of our two-bedroom suite, Ant was on the floor working out.

  “You know there is a gym here, right?”

  He stopped his crunches. “I was there all morning, sleepyhead. Go back to sleep if you going to start talking shit. As a matter fact, I’m ordering us some room service. You can’t talk with your mouth full.”

  He thought he was so funny, so I ate in silence. I didn’t say anything to him for two hours. It was almost five when I opened my mouth.

  “It’s our last day here, and I want to enjoy it. Can we start drinking now and have a late dinner if we get hungry?” I tried hard to sound ticked off.

  Ant walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out another bottle of champagne. “Let’s do it, baby.” We killed that bottle and ordered two more that had the same fate as the first. I was sloppy drunk and more horny than drunk.

  “So, is that how you do, Ant? Eat a woman’s pussy, then leave her fiending for the dick?” He stood over me.

  “I showed you what my mouth was about. How about giving me a sample of yours?”

  I wasn’t totally out of it, but I remembered that I had set up the video camera in my room in the closet and had it set on zoom facing the bed when we first arrived.

  “I’m going to suck your dick in here right now, but when we done, I want to you to take me in my bedroom and you fuck the shit out of me doggie style. Can you handle that?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I can handle that. Get your drunken ass in the bed now. This liquor got me, and I need to pee. When I get in there, have that ass in the air.”

  My plan seemed to work like clockwork. I went and hit record, and before he made it to the room, I was at the head of the bed with my ass in the air, waiting on him to come and pound me.

  He rested his dick on my back while he opened the condom. At first, I thought it was his hand because it was heavy, but just as I thought . . . Everything on his body was big.

  When he slid his dick inside of me, he cupped both of my breasts in his hands and started pounding me. There weren’t any feelings behind it, either. When I started telling him he was in too deep, he went deeper.

  “Shut yo’ ass up and take this dick. This how you wanted it, didn’t you?”

  I screamed out, “Yes!”

  Ant let my breasts go and gripped a handful of my hair dead in the center of my head and forced me to look in his direction.

  He kissed me while he stroked, which made his dick slide into a less painful position. “Bite my lip, Savannah.”

  I sucked his bottom lip until the majority was in my mouth and bit down on it.

  He pulled his lip away and pushed my face into the pillow and held his hand over my head so I couldn’t lift it up and went deeply all over again.

  I felt the come slide down my legs. “Damn, this pussy good, girl. I knew it was going to be.” Ant tucked his arms under my armpits until his arms wrapped over my shoulders and laid me down backward on his dick.

  I screamed out, “Ant!” because his dick felt like it was piercing my guts.

  “You on top now, baby. Show me how much dick you want in you.”

  I went down on the dick to the halfway point, came back up, and then went down on it again.

  “Savannah, you can take more dick than that.” He moved me off him and flipped me over. This big nigga moved fast. He placed my legs in the air and, with one hand, held both of my feet together and started fucking me slightly sideways. I came again. “I can’t wait ’til you’re my girl so I can take this condom off. That pussy getting wet as hell. I know it’s some killer.”

  He closed his eyes and turned his head up to the ceiling. The grand finale was just seconds away, and I wanted to egg him on. I started moaning louder until it was in full words.

  “Fuck me, Ant, fuck me. Fuck me, make me come, daddy, Ant, fuck me!” It was working like a charm.

  He put his head back down and started looking at me in my eyes. I licked my lips, bit my bottom one, and heard the words I had wanted to hear. “Oh, shit, Savannah, I’m about to nut,” and his river came flowing.

  It was hard as hell to get myself dressed to impress after getting some good dick like that, and I was still drunk. I did my best, though. I put on an all-white, tie-around-the-neck dress that stopped three inches under my butt. I put the stilettos I brought to wear with the dress back in the box and put on my backup all-white pumps. I went over the layers in my hair with my flatiron, applied a little lipstick, and was ready to go.

  There must have been a memo sent out, because Ant walked out of the room in all white too, and boy, was he looking
good. I ran back in the room and used a feminine wipe to absorb the new wetness looking at him brought on. That nigga could dress.

  When I came out of the room, he was posing for me. “You can say it, baby, a nigga look good, don’t I?”

  Not wanting to pump his head up, I replied, “You straight, slightly above average.”

  He took my hand and said, “That’s cool. You can hate. Your pussy already told me what was up.” Then we headed for a night on the town.

  We fell into some club in a new casino on the Strip. It was packed and jumping. The bouncer recognized who he was at the door, let us in free, and then led us to the VIP section. The place was filled with celebrities.

  Surprisingly, he didn’t seem excited when he saw who our company was. Instead, he acted the same way everyone else did.

  I didn’t want to be under him the whole night so after an hour or so, I went to mingle with the non-VIP clubgoers. I danced with about five different men before making my way to the bar. When I looked at the VIP section, Ant was covered with women. I didn’t want to look like a hater, so I got comfortable.

  “What is a pretty thing like you doing sitting at the bar and not dancing with me?”

  The voice was deep, like Barry White’s, and him whispering in my ear sent chills down my spine. Standing in front of me was this heap of black beauty. His aura was of a Greek god or African war hero. If it wasn’t for the flashing lights and his cream-colored suit, I wouldn’t have been able to see him. Brother was black. He smelled of cocoa butter and Blue Magic hair grease. I couldn’t make out his features completely, but he was fine enough to dance with. We danced for three songs straight, which all seemed to be neo-soul songs.

  After the dance, he took me back to where he found me at the bar, took a seat next to me, and bought us both a drink. We talked about our careers and life for almost an hour before Ant came and asked me to dance with him.