by K'wan
“That’s sweet of you, Persia, but any chick with me has to be ready to accept the good, the bad, and the ugly. You sure you ready for this?” Chucky asked.
“I’ve never been more sure about anything,” Persia said emotionally. She didn’t know why she felt the need to bare her soul with Chucky, but it felt better to get it out. It was like a weight being lifted off her soul. Persia thought she was having a moment, but it was actually the drugs playing hell with her nervous system.
That was all Chucky needed to hear. He walked over to his jacket and dug in his pockets until he’d gathered all the things he needed. He pulled out what he had left from the crack he’d bought in Washington Heights, some weed, and a cigar, which he laid on the table.
“Is that crack?” Persia asked in shock.
“Crack is for fiends, this is base. There’s a difference,” he lied.
“I’m down for pretty much whatever, but I don’t know about smoking that,” Persia said skeptically.
“That’s not what you said when you were sucking this down in the car and asking for more.”
“You let me smoke free base?” Persia asked in shock.
“I didn’t let you do anything, baby. You invited yourself to that meal, remember? Listen, if all this is too intense for you then maybe I should just take you home. I knew this was a mistake.” He stood.
“Don’t kick me out, Chucky. I wanna stay; I’m just not sure about this. What if I get hooked?” She thought of the broken addicts on the streets of Harlem and wonder if this was how their slow falls to hell started.
“Only weak bitches get hit off toking a little bit. Are you a weak bitch? Because if you are then you’ve got no business with me. I’m a boss, so any broad on my arm has got to be a boss bitch.”
“I can be a boss bitch, Chucky. I know I can. I’m just scared,” she admitted.
Chucky stared at her for a few minutes as if he was weighing it. “For as long as you are with me you’ll never have to fear anything.” He sat back down. “Let me tell you the story of Pleasure, Pain, and Joy,” he said, separating everything. “Pleasure and Pain were a god and goddess.” He started breaking the green buds up on a magazine. “Pleasure”—he motioned toward the weed—“was an easygoing god. All he cared about was sunshine, music, and laughter. He wanted to make the world happy. But Pain”—he pointed to the small broken rocks—“she didn’t care about happiness; she wanted to be worshiped. For years they clashed, with each gaining ground over the other here or there, but neither really winning the war. One day this old dude comes up with an idea.” He produced a cigar. Chucky swiftly cut the cigar down the middle with his fingernail and emptied the contents into the wastebasket. “He proposed a marriage between the god and goddess to bring about balance to an insane world.” He intermingled the crushed crack and weed in the hollow cigar. With the skill of a seasoned blunt roller, he sealed the ends of the cigar and the deal. “And from that union”—he lit the blunt and took several deep drags and exhaled the stink smoke—“was born Joy.” He extended it to her.
Persia accepted the blunt with the delicacy of a thousand-year-old Egyptian scroll. Had you told her that morning that she’d be sitting on her crush’s couch, zoned out of pills, and about to smoke laced weed, Persia would’ve called you a liar, yet there she was. She could hear her mother’s voice in her head warning her about the ills of drugs and fast-talking men, but it was like white noise at that point. She looked at Chucky, sitting there, watching her, looking handsome as ever and thought of how much she wanted to be his. “Just once ain’t gonna kill me,” she whispered to herself before taking a hit.
Persia was in a magical place. The laced weed made her feel like she was dancing on clouds to the music of chirping birds. Through dreamy eyes she watched Chucky standing over here. He looked like the god Pleasure, standing there glowing radiantly. It was at that moment she decided that Chucky was the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on and she would do any and everything to be with him.
“Take your clothes off,” Chucky ordered, and Persia happily did as she was told. He had to take a few minutes to admire her nude form. Persia’s body was perfect.
Persia watched from the bed as Chucky slowly came out of his clothes. He was a handsome physical specimen, with a broad chest, flat stomach, and toned arms. The real treat was when he slipped off his boxers. Chucky was hung like a porn star. She pleaded for him to enter her, but Chucky wouldn’t be rushed. He had waited too long for this moment.
Chucky grabbed her legs and forced them back until her knees touched her shoulders. He looked down at her neatly shaved, fat pussy, and found it already moist and inviting. Without warning, he clamped his mouth over her love box and began pleasuring her.
Persia’s back arched at the feel of Chucky’s mouth on her. It was an unexpected but welcome surprise. The last boy who attempted to go down on her was a complete ogre about it, all lips and teeth, but Chucky had style. He let his tongue slowly inspect every inch of Persia’s womanhood, paying special attention to her clitoris. When Chucky pinched the flap of skin between his lips and began sucking gently, Persia could feel herself cumming over and over.
When he was done tasting her, Chucky flipped her over on her stomach. Persia reached her hand between her legs and started playing with herself in anticipation. Even though Persia was soaking wet, Chucky had trouble entering her. She was tight, which told him she hadn’t been with many men. He worked himself inside her a little at a time until he was able to fit the whole thing, then he paused, savoring her warm walls.
Persia loved the way Chucky felt inside her. His stroke was aggressive, but he wasn’t a brute about it . . . at least not in the beginning. Chucky gradually sped up his pumping, digging inside her a little harder with each stroke. Holding her waist with one hand, he used the other to grab a fistful of her hair and went from stroking to pounding.
“Damn, take it easy, baby,” Persia said over her shoulder. If Chucky heard her, he showed no signs of it. She tried to scoot away, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back.
“This dick is good ain’t it?” Chucky breathed in her ear, while thrusting in and out of her. Persia found herself somewhere between pleasure and pain, as Chucky rode her like a jockey at the Kentucky Derby. When he felt himself about to bust, he pulled out of Persia and pulled her by her hair so that she was kneeling in front of him.
“Wait a minute . . . my hair.” She struggled.
“Just take it, just take it,” Chucky panted, stroking himself feverishly. With a groan he exploded, painting Persia’s face with his seed. When he was empty, he released her hair and allowed her to fall back onto the bed. “Damn, that was good.” He flopped down next to her.
“You didn’t have to get it all in my hair,” Persia complained, trying to wipe the semen out of her hair with a T-shirt she’d found on Chucky’s floor.
“My bad, I was caught in the moment,” he said, still breathing heavily. “Come here.” He pulled her down next to him and tucked her in the crook of his arm so that her face was resting on his chest. “You really impressed me today,” he said, tracing his finger along her side.
“I’m glad, Chucky. All I wanted to do was show you that I could make you happy,” Persia told him.
“And you did a good job of that. I think I can fuck with you, Persia. I mean really fuck with you, but I’m still not sure. How do I know you’re down for me and not just after my money like the rest of these bitches?”
Persia perked her head up and looked at him. “Chucky, I’m not after you for your money. I’ve got my own money. I told you that my father used to run those corners and when he went away, he didn’t leave us broke.”
This got Chucky’s attention. When Face went away to prison and Monk ran the business into the ground, there were more than a few rumors floating; the most popular was that besides the house they lived in, Face hadn’t left Michelle with any money, but now Persia was telling him different. Face had always been a
very smart man and from the kind of money he was clocking in the streets, it was very possible that Persia and her mother could’ve been sitting on a small fortune. It would be the answer to his prayers.
“Tell me more about your father.”
Chucky and Persia lay in bed talking until well into the night, before both of them dropped off to sleep. Sometime around first light, Persia had a nightmare, which startled her awake. Careful not to wake Chucky, she slid out of the bed and went to use the bathroom. On her way back, her eyes landed on the crack and weed that had been left out on the table from the night before.
Persia sat on the table and plucked one of the little rocks between her fingers. She couldn’t believe that the seemingly harmless pebble in her hand had been credited with destroying so many lives. Granted, when she smoked, it had been one of the most intense highs she’d ever felt, but hardly the big bad monster that she had expected it to be. Maybe Chucky was right and only weak-minded people got hooked. She was strong.
Without even realizing she was doing it, Persia had picked up a cigar and began cracking it open. She wasn’t the best blunt roller, but she did a fair job of twisting it. She could feel the lumps along the blunt from the rocks inside, as she held the lighter to it. Persia sat on the couch, smoking the laced weed, and listening for the sounds of cannons and birds chirping.
When Persia woke up, it was dark outside. She was lying on the couch, where she must’ve fallen asleep when she was smoking. She looked at the table for the blunt she’d rolled, but it was gone along with the paraphernalia. She got up and went into the bedroom looking for Chucky, but there was no sign of him.
Persia gathered her clothes and went into the bathroom to take a shower. She was so tired and sore that even washing herself was a task, but it was all worth it. She thought about the magical night she’d had with Chucky and it made her smile. Since she was a little girl and her father had gone away, all she ever dreamed about was having a man like him, a hustler who would do whatever it took to keep his lady laced and take care of his family. She hoped she had found that in Chucky.
After her shower Persia dried off and put her clothes on. Just as she was coming out of the bathroom, Chucky was coming in the front door holding bags of food.
“I see you’re awake,” he said, setting the bags on the table. “I bought you some food because I figured you’d be hungry after last night. I thought I’d put you down after the first round, but you surprised me when we went for two more.”
“Two more?” Persia was confused.
Chucky looked at her. “You mean you don’t remember? I came out here last and found you on the couch smoking. We talked for a while more about your father then we had sex, again and again. You had me calling for my mama by the time you were done with me. If you don’t remember that then you must’ve been more twisted than I thought.”
“I guess I was,” Persia said, trying to put the pieces of the night back together in her mind. There were only vague flashes of her dirty deeds. “What time is it?”
“About six or six-thirty,” Chucky told her, pulling a Styrofoam container full of chicken from one of the bags and setting it to the side.
“The sun will be up soon. Maybe we should head over to the hotel to see if Marty and Sarah are ready to go.”
Chucky looked at her to see if she was joking or serious. “Persia, it isn’t six in the morning, it’s six in the evening. You’ve slept the whole day away.”
“Holy shit,” Persia said nervously. She had been missing for hours and Marty was probably worried sick. She just hoped that her mother hadn’t been trying to reach her or else she was going to be in some serious trouble. “I’ve gotta call Marty, can I use your phone?”
“Sure.” He handed her his cell phone.
Persia dialed the number to Marty’s bedroom and listened while the phone just rang and rang. She was about to hang up when somebody picked up on the other end. “Marty?”
“No, this is Sarah. Persia, where the hell have you been, we’ve been worried sick!” Sarah told her.
“I’m sorry. I got caught up here with Chucky and lost track of time. I’ve been sleeping all day long. Has my mom been looking for me?”
“Yes, her and everyone else in the neighborhood. We tried to feed her excuses all day long, but when she popped up at the house and you weren’t here, shit hit the fan. We had no choice but to tell her that we didn’t know where you were.”
“Jesus, why would you do a stupid thing like that?” Persia asked with an attitude. She knew when she finally got home her mother was going to kill her then ground her until she graduated college.
“What were we supposed to do? You disappeared with some strange dude for an entire day. For all we know he could’ve done something to you.”
“Well, I’m fine, but I had a wild-ass night. Call Marty to the phone so I can give both of you the dirty details at once,” Persia said proudly.
Sarah got quiet.
“Sarah, what’s wrong?” Persia asked.
“Marty doesn’t feel like talking right this second,” Sarah said in a depressed tone.
“What do you mean? Sarah, what’s wrong with Marty?” Persia asked frantically.
“Persia, I can’t really talk about it right now, but something happened. Call me at my house when you get home and I’ll fill you in.”
“All right, I’ll be there in a little while.” She ended the call. “Chucky, I need to go.”
“Okay cool, just have something to eat first.”
“I don’t have time. I’ve got to get back to Long Island City.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Just some bullshit. My mother is tweeking because I stayed out all night and something happened to Marty. I need to go see what’s going on. Can you drop me off at the nearest train station?”
“Nah, my lady don’t take no trains. I’ll drive you there myself,” Chucky told her.
Persia felt good hearing him call her his lady. “So I’m your lady now?”
Chucky stood and hugged her. “Girl, from the way you put it on me last night, I’d kill another nigga for coming anywhere near your pussy. You belong to me now, understand?”
Persia just smiled and nodded. As she and Chucky embraced, her eyes landed to splotches of red on his tan Timberland. “Is that blood on your boot?”
“Nah, I must’ve stepped on a ketchup packet or something when I was in the chicken shack,” he lied. “But forget about my boots; let’s get you home so that your parents don’t worry.”
CHAPTER 25
It was colder than Persia had expected when she came outside, and the skimpy cocktail dress she had one wasn’t helping. She cursed herself for not having the good sense to bring a jacket with her when they’d left Marty’s house, but that was almost twenty-four hours prior and she didn’t know she’d end up needing it.
“You wanna wait here while I go get the car?” Chucky asked, seeing that she was cold.
“No, I’m okay. I just hope you’re not parked too far.”
“I’m just around the corner.” He took her by the hand and led her down the street. As they were passing the bodega on the corner, three girls were coming out. When Chucky saw who it was he sped up, hoping he could make it across the street without being spotted, but he had no such luck.
“Persia!” Ty called, running over to give her friend a hug.
“Hey, Ty.” Persia hugged her back. A few feet behind Ty she saw Meeka and Karen. It was her first time seeing her friends since she and Karen had the argument. “Hey, y’all,” she spoke to Karen and Meeka.
“What’s good, Princess P? You’re rocking the shit out of that dress,” Meeka complimented her.
“Thanks, girl,” Persia said graciously. “Hey, Karen,” she greeted her, trying to be the bigger person.
“A little early in the day for a cocktail dress,” was Karen’s reply.
“I know, but I’ve got on the same clothes from last night, and haven’t been home
to change yet,” Persia told her, hugging Chucky’s arm.
Karen couldn’t hide the hurt on her face. “It’s like that?” she asked Chucky.
“Be easy, Karen,” Chucky said coolly. He didn’t feel like dealing with one of Karen’s scenes, especially not while he was with Persia.
“Karen, leave that shit alone,” Meeka told her.
“Fuck that, Meeka. This nigga and his bitch are playing themselves!” Karen said heatedly.
“Karen, take a walk and I’ll holla at you later,” Chucky told her.
“Oh, you sending me on walks? I ain’t good enough to ride no more?” Karen was working herself up.
“Karen, let’s just go smoke,” Ty said. She smelled the storm coming.
“You got some balls on you, Chucky.” Karen got in his face. “You got me out in the streets covering your dirt, and this saditty bitch lying up in your bed like she’s the queen of Harlem?”
Chucky took a calming breath. “Karen, I ain’t gonna tell you again—”
“Nigga, you can’t tell me shit!” Karen cut him off. “You think you the shit because you’re strutting around with a fake rich girl on your arm, but she ain’t built like me. Let’s see if Persia is still riding with you when you’re asking her to dig your holes and keep your secrets.”
Chucky’s eyes flashed anger. He took two steps toward Karen, intent on knocking her head off, but Meeka stepped between them. Her hand was hanging down at her side, and in it was a box cutter.
“Chucky, you and Karen can argue all you like, but you know I ain’t gonna let you put your hands on her,” Meeka said. It was more of a fact than a threat.
