Games Women Play

by Zaire Crown

  When she got out and closed the door, Tuesday was practically willing him to give chase. She was headed back for the bank entrance because she told him that she had business inside but was purposely taking slow steps to give him time to catch her.

  She watched, disappointed, as the Audi whipped out of its parking space and headed for the exit. She thought she had him on the hook and gave him all the openings he needed, but for whatever reason he just didn’t shoot his shot. Brianna’s words echoed in her mind as she began to wonder if maybe she had lost it.

  But while she slowly headed for the entrance, Tuesday noticed that the Audi wasn’t leaving the lot. It just sat there idling at the outlet with the blinker going and wouldn’t pull out into the street despite traffic being clear.

  She was going through the door when he finally hit reverse and backed all the way up next to her. Tuesday came to meet him when he jumped out. She thought to herself, ’Bout time, muthafucka! but concealed it with a smile.

  “I’m sorry, but I never got your name,” he said, rounding the car to approach her.

  “Tabitha,” she said with a tone that let him know it was an invitation and not just a response.

  He looked around anxiously for a second and Tuesday could see that he was trying to work up the nerve to holla. She thought his shyness was kinda cute but a little out of character for someone who was supposed to be a kingpin.

  “I normally don’t do this, but are you seeing anybody right now?”

  Her lips slowly stretched into a smile. “Why?”

  “I was just thinking that the sundae wasn’t enough to show my appreciation for what you did back there.”

  “And what did you have in mind?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe I could take you to lunch or somethin’?”

  Tuesday nodded. “I would like that.”

  She took his phone and put her number on his call list—not her real number, but the one to the Tabitha Green phone. “Give me a call.”

  “I most certainly will,” he said, accepting his phone back.

  When they parted, Tuesday went into the bank just to play it off and waited for him to leave before she headed back to the Honda. When she got inside, Tuesday looked in the rearview and told herself, “Yeah, bitch, you still the shit!”

  Part one of her plan had gone off without a flaw. Now all she had to do was wait for his call.

  Straight back from Romulus, Tuesday went to the club feeling better than she had in a long time. To her there was nothing more satisfying than seeing a plan come together with perfect timing and execution. Plus the ease with which she put her mark on the hook was enough to shatter any insecurities she had about her looks or age.

  Since she hadn’t eaten yet, she stopped in at Bo’s BBQ for half a slab of short ribs and intended to have the sundae for dessert.

  She was in high spirits but sometimes Tuesday avoided coming in here because seeing Mr. Scott at work was always bittersweet. His shop was pretty much just a hangout for him and his old-school partners to sit around, play dominoes, and talk shit, but Tuesday was bothered that his money wasn’t straight enough for him to retire. She respected the fact that Mr. Scott was still hustling at his age but thought it was sad that he still had to be. When she reached that age, she planned to be somewhere getting waited on and not still waiting on people. These thoughts did fuck with her sometimes, but on this day it wasn’t enough to sour her mood.

  Tuesday came in still wearing her gym clothes and to all the gray-haired players and ex-pimps she was both a fond memory of what they had in their prime and a painful reminder that their time had passed. Mr. Scott got offended when she tried to pay, reminding her of the lifetime pass she had at Bo’s, and Tuesday showed her appreciation with some harmless flirting then gave them a show when she headed for the door by putting on such a scandalous strut in those pink-and-black tights that she could’ve given every old nigga in there a stroke.

  She left out hearing more “Oh my Gods” and “Dear Lords” than you would at a church revival, and even though they were all seniors, she still sucked it up. Today she was getting ego boosts from left and right and didn’t care where they came from.

  When Tuesday stepped into The Bounce, she was so up that she smacked DelRay on his ass. She beamed smiles at everybody then went to the bar to eat her ribs. She devoured bone after meaty bone, not thinking about the food but how well things had gone out in Romulus.

  She couldn’t believe that she’d ever doubted herself, because her entire life she’d had niggas wrapped around her finger. She was sexy-ass Tuesday Knight: the green-eyed cutie with all the booty. All she ever had to do was dangle bait and the marks came running with their lips drooling and wallets open. In Tuesday’s mind she had always been like one of those chicks on X-Men, only her power was to control men’s minds through manipulation and sex appeal. Her eyes, her smile, and the unspoken promise of pussy had always been enough to get what she wanted from niggas. If she even hinted that she might be hungry, they brought food. While shopping, anything her eyes gave a second look to would either be purchased on the spot or presented a few days later as a gift. If she wanted a nigga to come, he came, and if she wanted him to leave, he left. Tuesday had been mind-fucking guys so long that the only thing that excited her more than getting away with it was running across that rare one who was immune to her powers.

  That was exactly what made her fall for A.D. When Tuesday met him she was nineteen years old and physically at her baddest, but while she could make other niggas jump through hoops like trained puppies, A.D. never went for her bullshit. A.D. was the first man to tell her “No!” The first man to be aggressive with her and put Tuesday in her place. The first man who didn’t run behind her like a little boy: the first to actually be a man! Who could dominate her without being abusive. Who with a look could tell her to “sit down and shut the fuck up!” and she’d do it. He was the first nigga who wasn’t so caught up on her looks that he forgot that she was just a girl; not some beautiful goddess who should be given everything on her terms. Niggas had her on such a high pedestal at the time, but A.D. kicked it right out from under her and brought her back down to reality. He didn’t worship her or put Tuesday above him; she was his partner, his friend, and most important, his woman. She thanked God that he put the boundaries and restrictions on her that a man is supposed to put on his woman because if she would’ve never met him, she’d be one of those fucked-up snotty bitches who swore their shit didn’t stink. For this reason A.D. was the first and only man to truly have her heart and was the prototype for any man who might have it in the future.

  She hadn’t seen A.D. in a week and thinking of him like this didn’t darken her mood. She had her mark on the hook and a million-dollar lick in her grasp.

  Methodically gnawing the meat off another rib bone, Tuesday was replaying their last conversation and scripting their next one when Ebony stole her attention.

  “Hey, Boss Lady, we low on Schnapps and ice.”

  Tuesday blinked then nodded dumbly. Usually checking on the liquor levels was the first thing she did, but she had been so distracted that it slipped her mind. “Okay, I’ma get Tushie on it.”

  “Girl, you okay?” Ebony stared at her quizzically. “You looked like you was kinda zoned out there for a while.”

  Tuesday dropped the last bone and sucked the sauce from her fingers. “Naw, I’m just trippin’ on somethin’ that happened earlier today.”

  “Well, girl, from the way you’re smiling, you must’ve found a bag full of money and dicks!”

  Tuesday laughed. “Maybe the first part. I don’t know about the second.” Tuesday didn’t go into details about the lick because while Ebony was cool, she was not part of the team. Tuesday would much rather have somebody like Ebony in the circle than Brianna but she could read people well enough to know who was built for this game and who wasn’t. She had peeped that Ebony wasn’t a long time ago, which was why she ne
ver pulled her in.

  Just then Tushie came in, no longer wearing her disguise and looking like her fly self again. Tuesday pulled her in the office so she could put her up on everything that happened after she left.

  Tushie listened to the whole story while rolling a blunt. “Fo real? He almost let you jus’ get away? What you think made him turn around at da last minute?”

  “I don’t know,” Tuesday said, choking off the kush. “He just seemed real shy and kinda scared.”

  “I know you checked ’em out real good when y’all was in tha car together. What he look like up close?”

  “Uh, he straight,” Tuesday said, shrugging her shoulders to downplay it.

  “Bitch, c’mon?” Tushie pressed as she took back the weed. “Iz he fuckable or whut?”

  The voice in her head screamed Hell, yeah! but all that came out her mouth was: “I could if I had to. I done had to do way worse.”

  Tushie bobbed her head, blowing smoke out her nose, because that was part of the game. Just like she and Baby Doll stressed to Brianna, sometimes you had to let an ugly nigga or a weak one get down. If you were able to open a mark up with your looks, swag, and game, cool; but more often than not, it took some pussy to seal the deal.

  Tushie passed the blunt back to her. “So how long you thank he gone wait to call?”

  Tuesday thumped off the ash before she took another hit. “I know the nigga feelin’ me but he ain’t gone wanna come off too eager either, so he gone wait long enough to look like he ain’t pressed, but not so long that I forget about his ass. He gone hit me up in about three days.”

  “I hope it’s sooner den dat cuz from the way you said Dres was talkin’, we might not even have three days.”

  Tuesday nodded to agree. “We damn sure pressed for time.”

  They sat there for a while smoking and talking about the lick a bit longer when Tushie suddenly broke out: “Oh yeah, bitch, you ain’t say nuthin’ ’bout kickin’ me in my ass!”

  Tuesday laughed. “I had to make it look real.”

  Tushie snatched her blunt back. “Put yo feet on me again, bitch, and next time it’s gone be real!”

  Chapter Nine

  For a week Tuesday was in a holding pattern waiting for her mark to call.

  While the plan couldn’t go forward until he did, the girls were still keeping tabs on him around the clock to see if he made any moves out of the ordinary, or if the feds snatched him up. He never deviated from his schedule.

  During that time Face came through with the modified M11’s, a little late, but with all the extras he promised. She kept them in a drop-safe that was hidden in the bedroom closet of her condo. Tuesday had no intention of passing them out until it was time to go on the mission, but with the way Brianna and Doll were acting, she considered not giving either of them one at all.

  Meanwhile business as usual went on at The Bounce where the girls danced a whole lot for a little bit in tips.

  With every day that passed without the phone ringing, the girls lost more hope. It was beginning to look as if all that talk about a seven-figure lick was just a short-lived fantasy. Brianna and Doll were the most vocal, implying that Tuesday had lost whatever magic she’d once possessed. Tuesday assured them that he was going to call: explaining that he was just slow-playing it so he wouldn’t look too desperate.

  Secretly Tuesday was trying to sell this to herself as much as the skeptical members of her team. Her confidence wasn’t exactly through the roof right now with just ending a relationship she’d been in for most of her life. At thirty-seven she still had niggas twenty years younger trying to holla, and while she was a lot more seasoned as far as her game, Tuesday knew she wasn’t the same bitch she was at twenty. She wasn’t feeling herself as much as she was the day she gave out her number. Times like this she really felt her age.

  That was the main reason why this come-up was so important to her because she couldn’t do this shit much longer and didn’t want to. She had told Tushie more than once that if she still had to do this at forty, she’d rather let a .40-cal bust in her mouth before she sucked off another mark. Tushie would always laugh at this, but Tuesday was not joking.

  Six days had passed since that little stunt at the Dairy Queen and the friends had spent that morning out at Somerset Mall. They had gone shopping then hit Hooter’s for some wings, but despite doing two of Tuesday’s favorite things, Tushie noticed that her girl had been usually quiet during most of it.

  They were in Tushie’s H2 and headed back to the city when she finally turned down the Lil Wayne they had pounding for a little heart to heart. “Gurl, iz you straight?”

  Tuesday was staring out the passenger window looking dejected. “Yeah, I’m good. Why you ask that?”

  “Cuz you ain’t said three words to me all day and tha whole time we been out you been actin’ like you got somethin’ stuck up yo ass.” She paused thoughtfully, then added, “Or maybe the real problem is that you ain’t had nuthin’ stuck up yo ass!”

  Tuesday never looked at her. “Bitch, fuck you!”

  She tried to play her off by cranking the music back up, but Tushie brought it right back down to a whisper. “I’m serious, TK. I know you still down on this A.D. thang and shit moving slow wit ol’ boy, but not gettin’ no dick ain’t helpin’, either. You need a boy-toy! A young nigga ’bout twenty years old who don’t know how ta do shit but fuck and play X-Box.”

  “I can get dick whenever I want!” Tuesday shot back. “I just got my mind on this mission right now.”

  “Look, I done been round you long enough to know you can get it from any nigga you want. The problem is you only want it from the one nigga who you can’t get it from.”

  Tuesday didn’t have a response for that because she was right. Since A.D. had been away, Tuesday had a few casual flings with niggas—and a few females—but it had been a long time since she’d even tried to meet a guy who wasn’t a potential mark.

  “Look, as soon as we take care of this piece of business I promise to turn into a real slut. I’m a let fifty niggas line up and just have a field day with me.”

  Tushie smiled because that was the closest Tuesday had come to making a joke all day. “I’m just tellin’ you what I know, TK. When you meet somebody new dat you really feelin’, tha shit improve yo attitude.” She looked over at her girl beaming a really big fake smile.

  It took a second for Tuesday to catch on. “Bitch, you didn’t?”

  Tushie bobbed her head. The smile was genuine now. “’Bout a week and a half ago. His name De’Lano. He ’bout six foot two, big-ass Jay Z lips. Da nigga is FINE!”

  That made Tuesday finally shift away from the window until she was facing her. “How did y’all meet?”

  Tushie checked the traffic in her mirrors before she merged into another lane. “Well, I’m comin’ out tha market over thurr by my house and I run right into tha nigga, damn near runs his ass over wit my cart. Tha nigga holla’ed—you know, in a respectful way—and it was just somethin’ ’bout him I was feelin’ so I took his number.”

  Tuesday’s expression became serious. “Is he doing something? You want us to take a look at ’em?”

  Tushie frowned. “Naw, bitch! I told you I was feelin’ ’em fa real.”

  “How many times you done seen him since y’all met?”

  “Every day,” Tushie said with a sly smirk as if she were embarrassed. “Last night we hit up Joe Muer down at the Renaissance. Dey lobster was tha shit!”

  Tuesday gave her an accusing glare. “You fucked him, didn’t you?”

  She shook her head. “Oh, trust me, he definitely coulda got it already, but naw, we ain’t did nuthin’ yet. He ain’t like dat. I mean I know he want it, but it ain’t like he pressed, you know. Dis nigga like a real gentleman. He know I work at a club and dat I used ta dance and he ain’t trippin’ on none of it.”

  Tuesday could tell by the look in her eye that Tushie thought this nigga was special. She was happy for her because she kn
ew how hard it was to find a quality man. They both had the Pretty Girl Curse: The right ones were too intimidated by their looks or assumed they already had a man, while the wrong ones either came at them disrespectfully or saw them as toys to be played with until they weren’t fun anymore.

  It was even harder for Tushie. Having a body like that made most niggas view her as purely a sexual object. Any man in a relationship with her would have to understand that, no matter how she presented herself, Tushie would always get whispers, stares, and “God Damns!” when she was out and about. It took a strong, secure nigga to deal with his woman getting that much attention, and unfortunately they were in short supply.

  Tuesday thought it was out of character for her girl to keep this new nigga a secret when they usually talked about everything. “I mean I’m happy you met somebody that you really digging, but why wouldn’t you tell me about him?”

  Tushie sighed. This was the question she knew was coming but wasn’t looking forward to.

  She explained: “I jus met somebody at da same time you jus’ lost somebody. I know you took dat shit wit A.D. real hard—harder den you lettin’ on. I ain’t want it to be like I’m throwin’ my little situation up in yo face.”

  Tuesday understood but figured that her friend should’ve known that she would never be so petty as to be jealous of her happiness. If anything, being able to share in it would’ve been more helpful for Tuesday during this painful time.

  “So when do I get to meet this De’Lano nigga?”

  “Whoa, bitch, slow down, it’s only been ten days. I gotta get ’em used to all my crazy before I introduce ’em to yours.”

  Tuesday laughed and she realized it was her first one all day.

  Tushie continued. “Besides, I ain’t gone stamp ’em certified until I take ’em fo a test drive. I gotta whole lot to deal wit back thurr and if he can’t handle tha ride, we ain’t gone make it.”

  Smiling, Tuesday said, “So what you sayin’ is if he don’t last long, y’all ain’t gone last long.”