“Ai'ight.” Imani sighed.
Ten minutes later Kree was knocking on her door. As Imani opened the door, she could smell the sweet aroma of Kree's Eternity for Men cologne. Although he smelled good, she never expected him to look so sweet—his long braids hanging on his shoulders. At first glance you would think he was a black man, but something about the look in his eyes or the mixture in his skin let everyone know that he was Latin. He stepped into her living room, still dressed from the night's festivities, but his shirt was now thrown over his right shoulder, supported by the tip of his index finger. “Goddamn, you look good as hell.” Kree kissed Imani on the forehead as he glided into the apartment, one hand holding his shirt and the other hand holding the bag with the cheesecake, Cristal, two plastic forks, and two plastic champagne glasses. “You look sweet as hell, too, ma.”
Imani looked down. “Thank you.”
“Don't be looking down when I give you a compliment. I want you to look me in the eyes and be like, That's right, ma'fucker, and don't get it confused.”
“I'm spose to be that bitch, huh?” Imani chuckled slightly. “Damn real.” He handed Imani the bag, and she placed it on the floor. “You got a cute li'l spot,” Kree said, looking around.
“It's ai'ight,” Imani said, unsure.
Kree looked at Imani. “Wassup, ma, why you sounding all down?”
“I'm not down.” She sat down on the couch and took the cheesecake and forks out of the bag.
“Yes you are.” Kree sat down beside her. “The other day you were Ms. Confidence, looking at me like, Yeah, niggah, what? But today you look like somebody stole ya bike and shit. Wassup?”
Imani sucked her teeth. “It's nothing.”
“Talk to me.” Kree turned her face toward him. “I'm a good listener.”
“The night that you brought me home after my mother's wedding, Walik and I had a fight …” Imani told Kree everything, from Shante being pregnant on the prison bus to Walik cussing her out like a dog. She spared no details and Kree didn't make a sound; all he did was listen. “Sometimes I wonder if it's the dick,” Imani said, eating her third slice of cheesecake.
“The dick? Whose dick?” Kree asked, taken aback. “His dick?”
“Yeah. It's like, he was my first, unless you count that other shit, but I was twelve and that was nothing. But I haven't been with anybody but him. I mean, you should've heard him. Get a job, you lazy bitch!”
“You don't work?” Kree asked, surprised.
“No, I don't work. The last job I had I quit. I don't do shit.”
“Take that down, ma. Don't beat up on yourself. You don't have to front for me, I'm cool. I'm saying, though, you have a son, and you're young. You need to think about what you wanna do and do it. Don't ever let no niggah play you like that. And on top of that the chick was talking shit to you? Don't sweat it, ma, all he gon' do is cuss her ass out later.”
“Yeah right.”
“He will, but you wanna know what I'm trippin' off of ?”
“What?”
“That you tellin' me about his dick being good. Fuck that Russian-roulette dick. All you can get from that niggah is infected. Trust me, he don't give a shit about you. You got a baby by him and that's how he treats you? Oh hell no. Ain't no way the sex was that great.”
“It was good. He wasn't no freak or nothing.”
“What you mean, he wasn't no freak?”
“All he wanted to do was fuck, no foreplay, he ain't wanna go down or nothing.”
“He ain't wanna go down? They still make ma'fuckers like that? Come on now, I know you was six o'clockin' his ass.”
Imani laughed. “I am sooo not answering that.”
“Look, ma.” Kree smiled. “I didn't exactly expect you to answer that. It was a statement. Not a question.”
“Oh. Anyway, I don't wanna talk about that anymore.”
“Well, what you wanna talk about?” Kree smiled.
“What's up with the DJing. You got any of your hot-ass CDs that are flying off the streets?”
“How you know about that?” he asked.
“I have my ways.”
“I bet you do. Well, I got a demo that this CD company wants to buy.”
“For real?”
“Yeah, one of those companies that sells the deluxe slow jams on TV. The commercials come on late at night. They offered me a contract to create CDs for them.”
“Well, where's the CD? Let me hear it.”
“Ai'ight, let me run downstairs and get it.”
… … …
KREE WENT DOWNSTAIRS and came back. He noticed that Imani had lit some candles. “Wassup with the candles?” he asked, cutting the CD player on.
“Ambience,” she assured him, “nothing else.”
“It's your show, baby. It's all yours.” Kree popped the CD in and instantly Joe's “All the Things Your Man Won't Do” came on.
“This used to be my song.” Imani smiled, singing along.
“Yo, I'm supposed to be singing this song, not you.”
“Oh, is that so?”
“Uhmm-hmm.” Kree sat next to Imani, held her chin in his hand, and started singing to her.
“You're embarrassing me.”
“Why?” Kree said, moving his face closer to Imani.
“I don't know if I'm ready…”
“For what?”
“To be with somebody else right now.”
“I didn't ask you for all of that.” Kree kissed Imani on the eyelids. She could feel her clit jump. “Kree,” she whined, “maybe we shouldn't …”
“Shhh, let me show you something.” He stood up and sat on the floor. Gently he pulled Imani's hand. “Come here.” Imani sat on the floor next to him, and he started to kiss her soft and slow. He took his tongue and licked the outline of her lips. Then he sucked her lip in and out of his mouth. As he slipped his hand underneath her dress, he soon discovered what he thought were silk panties was actually the wetness of her pussy.
Kree laid Imani down and kissed her from the top of her head to the tip of her clit.
“Kree…,” she moaned.
“Be quiet,” he insisted.
He opened Imani's legs and began to suck on her inner thighs, going from one to the other. Her eyes rolled to the top of her head; she didn't know whether to be nervous or act like an expert. He slid his tongue into her slit and graced her clit with its warm wetness, sucking it slowly and slurping the flowing juices as if it were melting ice cream. Her juices glazed his lips as he ran his tongue from one end of her pussy to the next. Imani placed her hands on top of his head.
“This is what ya man is supposed to do,” he said, softly biting her pussy lips.
Imani had never imagined that having someone go down on you felt like this. She knew that her friends had always bragged about it. And Sabrena had even told a story about getting the bomb head and passing out, but never in a million years did Imani imagine that it felt like this. This was ecstasy. This is what made you dream…dream about being a down chick for life. This is what carried your mind to a place you never knew existed.
Kree licked and sucked until he felt Imani's body start to tense. He knew she was cumin'. And he wanted her to. He needed her to…to cum…so that he could show her sometimes making love was about getting pleased and not always having to be the one to do it.
The music continued to play as Imani came long and hard, screaming Kree's name. She started to get fidgety after she came, wanting him to stop kissing her pussy and instead take his dick out and put it in, but he continued to eat her out and even more aggressively than before. Forcing her, two seconds later, to cum again.
“Kree,” she moaned.
“Yes, baby.”
“I want some dick.”
“You can't handle this.”
“Yeah, please. I want it.”
As Kree undressed Imani he used the soft glow from the candles as his light. Once they were both undressed, he sucked her breasts and then slipped his t
en-inch dick inside. He took both of her legs and threw them over his right shoulder. Imani felt as if she'd been blindsided. She never expected his dick to feel like this. For once she felt as if she were being made love to and not fucked.
Kree moved with expertise, as if he were a pianist, stroking each key with precision. As Imani's pelvic muscles started to contract, Kree flipped her over. “Imani,” he said, breathing heavy.
“Yes.”
“Don't ever—”
“Don't ever what?”
“Talk about another niggah's dick to me.” He turned her to the side, spreading her legs like scissors. “Understand?”
“Kree,” she whined.
He flipped back over; now she lay on her back. “Understand?”
“Yes.” She moaned, “Kree…”
“Yes, baby.”
“I'm cumin'.”
“That's what you spose to do. Now cum on.”
(Starr)
“STARR!” ROXANNE CRIED, “Starr!”
“Come on big girl and do that rodeo show for daddy,” Red said, as he entered their bedroom, interrupting Starr's conversation.
“Hush,” Starr said, giving him the evil eye, “Roxanne on the phone crying. Now Roxanne,” she turned her attention back to the phone, “What's wrong?”
“Jimmy—”
“What about Jimmy?! Where are you?”
“At the hospital.” “She at the hospital,” Starr mumbled to Red. “Why are you at the hospital? What happened?”
“I was—I was—oh I'm embarrassed to say—”
“Just say it,” Starr said as calmly as possible.
“Well you know my arms is little… and I feel like I gotta be a freak to make up for my elbows being next to my ears …” Rox-anne let out a long sigh. Starr could hear her shuddering tears.
“Roxy, please tell me what's wrong?”
“Well …” Roxanne sniffed, “Jimmy was giving me a golden shower and he tumbled on top of me—”
“A golden who?” Starr asked in disbelief.
“A golden shower.”
“Jimmy was giving Roxanne a golden shower,” Starr whispered to Red.
“Oh my lawd Jesus!” Red sucked his teeth, “I knew anybody with they hands that close to their mouth was a freak! Get off the phone with that backwards heifer. Tell her don't be callin' over here startin' no shit. Next thing I know you'll be tryna get me to eat grits out ya ass! Hang up on her right now, Starrla!”
Turning her attention back to Roxanne, Starr could hear her moaning in the background. “Roxanne,” Starr said shaking her finger at Red, “How's Jimmy doing now?”
“Oh, Starr…he's dead!” Roxanne screamed, “He's dead! He had a heart attack and died.”
Starr was in shock as she held the phone in her hand. Not knowing what was wrong, Red became concerned. “Look, Starr,”— Red cleared his throat—“what Jimmy and Roxanne do is one thing, but I just can't bring myself to piss on you. Why don't we try swingin' instead?”
“Hush, Red,” Starr said wiping the tears streaming from her eyes and hearing Roxanne continue to scream on the phone. “It's Jimmy.”
“What about Jimmy?”
“Sit down, Red.”
“I don't wanna sit down, just tell me.”
Starr swallowed hard. “Jimmy passed, Red. Roxanne said he had a heart attack and died.”
Red started to cry as he flopped down on the bed next to Starr, who was trying her best to calm Roxanne down. “Roxanne,” she said, “hang up the phone, baby. We're on our way to the hospital…Let's go, Red.” Starr wiped her tears. “I need you to be strong, we still have to tell Mama Byrd.”
… … …
“MAMA BYRD,” STARR said, as she and Red walked into the living room. Starr was practically holding Red up straight. “I have something to tell you.”
“Can a old ho shit in peace, please,” Mama Bryd said, holding the metal rails on her porta-potty.
“Mama Byrd,” Starr continued, “I don't know if you'll understand this, but I need to tell you something.”
“What is it, baby?” Mama Byrd said seriously, “You can tell me anything.”
“All right, this is hard for me to believe and even harder to say. But Jimmy—Jimmy—he died.”
“Jimmy? My knee-baby-boy Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
“Oh hell to the nawl!” Mama Byrd crouched to her knees.
“It's all right, Mama Bryd,” Starr assured her.
“It ain't all right, 'cause now I got to worry 'bout the pastor's wife tellin' Jimmy that Deacon Jones was really his daddy.”
… … …
AT JIMMY'S FUNERAL Starr tried to comfort Red as best she could. Roxanne couldn't speak. At most, all she could do was rock back and forth, whispering Jimmy's name, over and over again.
“Excuse me.” Mama Byrd tapped Roxanne on the shoulder. “Yo' sleeves too long.”
“Hush up!” Starr said to Mama Byrd. “Hush!”
Starr wiped the tears from her eyes as she walked around for one last look at Jimmy's casket. She stooped and kissed him on the forehead. I'ma miss you, Jimmy, she thought, rubbing his cold hands, I'ma miss you. As Starr walked to the back of the church she couldn't stop thinking about the way her girls had spoken to her on her wedding day. Hell, she couldn't help it if things didn't work out with their fathers. After all, Starr was never one for letting children dictate whom she should and shouldn't be with. Her philosophy was, One day their asses will be grown, and then I'll be stuck with some niggah I don't like.
As soon as Starr got home, she started cooking for the repast and then called her daughters on the phone. “You ain't got to like Red, but you will respect him. Now his baby brother Jimmy died and I expect you to be here. I don't wanna hear nothin' about no get-free parties, about how far you live, or any other nonsense, and since y'all selfish asses didn't show for the funeral, I expect you to be here.
“All I wanna know,” Mama Byrd said, spitting snuff into her spit cup, “is who was that niggah in the casket? It wasn't Red, was it? Now, Jimmy, if he got to go, he got to go. But Red, that niggah owe me some money.”
“Mama Byrd,” Buttah said, fanning her hand, “my man died, my kids' daddy. Jimmy …” Buttah started crying. “Jimmy! Jimmy! Oh, Jimmy!”
“Shut the fuck up!” Mama Byrd frowned. “Goddamn, them wasn't his kids no way.”
“That ain't true!” Buttah screamed. “De-niece and De-nephew are his kids! Jimmy loved me!”
“Who the fuck is De-niece and De-nephew?”
“Mama Byrd, be quiet.” Starr rolled her eyes. She hated that Mama Byrd didn't know any better because then she couldn't tell her off like she wanted to. “I don't know what I'ma do about my Red,” Starr said, sliding the corn bread into the oven. “Red is torn up. I thought he was gon' fall in the casket. He and Roxanne both. Jimmy was their backbone, not to mention the Jam on Its will never be the same.”
“I guess they'll just be Jam now.” Mama Byrd frowned. “Can a bitch get a beer around here?”
“Mama Byrd, Jimmy was your son!” Starr said, upset.
“I knew he looked familiar. Was that my knee-baby Jimmy?”
“Yes.”
Tears filled Mama Byrd's eyes. “You mean my knee-baby-boy Jimmy Jack Daniels Brown?”
“Yes.”
“Oh Lord!” Mama Byrd shot up from her seat. “Jack Daniels! Jack Daniels! Oh why they had to go and take Jack Daniels, that was my knee-baby!”
Roxanne walked slowly into the kitchen as if she were numb. She was wearing a long black dress, with a long veil hanging from a large garden hat that tied in a bow under her chin. She looked like a mourning southern belle. Cutting her eyes at Buttah, she fell to her knees. “My man…My man is gone! Oh Jimmy! Oh Jimmy. Oh Lawd! I can't lose you and Luther at the same time. I can't do it!”
“Luther?” Mama Byrd said, wiping her eyes, “Luther died too? Oh no!” she screamed. “Oh hell no! This house will never be a home! Oh this is too much! Luther!�
� Mama Byrd screamed. “Luther!”
“Jimmy!” Roxanne screamed simultaneously.
“Oh, Jimmy!” “Oh Jesus!” Starr screamed. “Please, my nerves are bad!” First she helped Mama Byrd off the floor, and then she helped Roxanne up. She handed Roxanne a cold compress. “Take that hat off and go lie down, baby…It's all right.” She turned to Mama Byrd, who was still sniffling and calling Luther's name. “Mama Byrd, Luther and Jimmy both in a better place.”
“I need,” Mama Byrd sniffed, “my porta-potty.”
“I'll get it!” Buttah said. “I can't clean up no mo' shit. Please.”
“Why you got to call me out?” Mama Byrd sucked her teeth. “It ain't a secret that my bowels is loose.”
“Ma, do you have any Extra Strength Tylenol?” Monica said, walking into the kitchen. “My back is killing me.” She sat down at the kitchen table, and the smell of the squash, corn, and tomato pudding that sat on the table started to make her feel even worse. This is not going to work.
“I'm glad you're here. Are you feeling okay?” Starr asked Monica. She handed her a glass of water and two Tylenols. Afterward she pressed the back of her hand against Monica's forehead. “You feel a little warm, baby.”
“Hey, Ma,” Celeste and Imani said, walking into the kitchen. They walked over to Starr and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
Afterward Imani kissed Monica on the cheek. “You know you're my favorite sister in the whole world.”
“Get outta here, heifer!” Monica chuckled. “You make me sick. I'ma kill you about the drive-by you did with my nephew the other day.”
“I thought you told me he could come over.”
“Stop lying.”
“My sister loves me so much,” Imani teased, pinching Monica's cheeks.
“Where's Jamal?” Monica said playfully, slapping Imani's hands down.
“In the living room with the twins.”
“Celeste,” Starr said, “has my wedding tape come to your house yet?”
“No, Ma,” Celeste said, “not yet.” As Celeste turned around she frowned at Monica. “Hi,” she said drily.
Monica didn't respond. As far as she was concerned Celeste had already won, and she didn't need the shit thrown in her face anymore. “Can I have some more water, Ma?” Monica asked.
The Ex Factor: A Novel Page 18
