Graveyard Love

by T. C. Littles

  On the center of the bed, Tiff was sprawled out in one of my tee shirts going wild with a dildo. My eyes popped open, my dick got hard, and the coke settling in my bloodstream gave me an instant euphoric feeling. The lethal combination had me ready to fuck. I devoured Tiff like I hadn’t just busted a massive nut with Jakia.

  I plowed into my ex feeling like a true pimp with each thrust. Her pussy felt hella good, and she was taking my meat like a pro. I went for so long that I dried her up. Flipping Tiff over ’cause I was still urging to go, I tapped her lips with my mushroom thick tip, then felt her swallow my dick whole. Licking, slurping, then gagging, I held her jaws still and let my load off into her throat while my high came down simultaneously.

  “Where yo’ slick ass been at anyway?” Coming up from the face-to-dick position, Tiff couldn’t wait to swallow my nut so she could start a round of questioning. “I ain’t heard from you since I rented that van. I started to report it stolen.” She rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t play with me about the police, Tiff. That shit ain’t never gonna be funny.” I made my point clear. “You know me, Rock, and Kia had to lie low until shit died down with ole boy from the casino,” I replied, agitated.

  “Uh-huh, nigga, whatever. I’m not stupid. You’ve been somewhere exotic and cake baking with that bitch,” she backhanded me in the chest. “I’m the one who helped y’all pull that heist off, for real. If it weren’t for me putting that room in my name in the first place, y’all would’ve been fucked. Plus, you didn’t catch me with a dick twisted off up inside of me.” In addition to throwing what she’d helped me out with back up in my face, Tiff was going hard on Jakia like any bitter ex with her hand still off in the cookie jar would.

  “Damn, since when did you start getting so territorial over a nigga? Jealousy ain’t a good look on you, babe,” I chuckled at her.

  “And being a dog is looking real bad on you right about now,” she huffed.

  It was then I knew any chance of getting a runner-up head job was out of the question. Stuffing my now flaccid penis into my boxers, I moved on to get control over the situation. “Aw, chill out and settle down, girl. Why you wanna go and fuck up the good thing we got going on?” I wasn’t trying to beef out with Tiff, but she knew the rules to the game we were playing. I wasn’t about to change my position. Jakia was my main lady, and all other chicks fell in line afterward—Tiffany being first.

  “’Cause I’m tired of getting the short end of the stick, Spade. It ain’t been a solid month of you fuckin’ with that young girl that you haven’t been over here all up in my face. It’s not gonna be too many more times of you shading me for her—trust and believe!”

  “Should I take that as a threat, Tiff? You know I don’t do well with threats.” Up until this point, I was letting Tiffany have her choice of words with me. Out of all the women I dealt with, she’s always had more room to talk recklessly. But first love or not, the yapping was getting played out. Even my wife wasn’t allowed to sass me.

  “Take it how you wanna take it, chief,” she smartly backed up. “But just know that I’m serious about you shading me and mine.” Pulling up her shirt, she exposed a pudgy belly with the words “Hi Daddy” written with blue lipstick across it.

  “Aye, Tiff, what the fuck type shit are you on?”

  “Read it and weep, nigga. The fuck is ya girl gonna say now?”

  “I swear to G—if this is a so-called pregnancy prank you call yo’self pulling, I’ma put one in you.”

  “Say what, now? Since when do I play games? And you putting one in me is the reason I’m gonna be set for life, nigga. Can you say ‘child support’?” Tiff’s ghetto attitude started pouring out in every word that she spoke. “Oh, and don’t sit over there acting like it ain’t yours, by the way.” She had her argument prepared from every angle.

  “How in the fuck do I even know you’re pregnant? We both know how you like to hit niggas over the head and shit. Please don’t have me put my hands on you.” Tiff knew how I got down. She was the preliminary reason for me being a villain. With her, I was only a monster.

  “Would you question that sneak bitch, Jakia?” When I didn’t respond fast enough, Tiff took it to another level. “Fuck all this conversation, Spade. I can show you better than I can tell you. Come on, let’s make a run.”

  I whipped Tiff’s car around the few corners necessary to reach the Family Dollar Store. Jumping out of the passenger seat with the crisp twenty I’d handed her, she disappeared through the doors, then reappeared a few minutes later. With a bottle of water in one hand and a plastic bag containing the detection test, she sat back and guzzled her H2O with a smirk painted on her face.

  Tiffany was all too eager to piss on the stick in front of me. She pulled off her drawers, plopping down on the toilet, all while staring me dead in the face. I watched her rip the package open, pull the purple plastic cap off, and urinate on the absorbent strip. When she was done damn near drenching it, she replaced the top, then tossed it toward me. “It don’t matter how many sticks I pee on, nigga; they all will read ‘pregnant.’ I’ve been missing days on the pole ’cause this seed has got me sick as hell. It’s a shocker I’m not throwing up right now.”

  “Man, Tiff, real talk. You’ve got me royally fucked up. You already know I’m not trying to have no kids. So what cha’ talkin’ about doing?” I wasn’t the type of dude to hint toward an abortion—I gave it to all my girls straight, with no chaser.

  “Wow, okay—So after you send me off to the chopper, will you come back to tamper with my abused coochie? What am I? A garbage disposal?” Tiff was getting emotional, when all along, even before Jakia, I never campaigned to be her baby’s dad.

  “Regardless of how you wanna play the game, your ass better be scheduling an appointment at the scrap house on that,” I pointed my finger toward her stomach, then dusted my hands of the mess. Balling my fists up, I walked toward Tiffany so we could bump noses. She was feistier than Jakia but was still no competition to my weight. “Unless you want me to kick that muthafucka up outta ya!”

  Rocko

  “I swear that nigga has found his match in that one,” I spoke out loud while wiping sweat beads from my forehead. He and Tiff have been going head up for the last forty-five minutes straight; and from the sound of it, she wasn’t about to back down anytime soon. Whatever popped off between them, though, wasn’t my business, so I kept low in her basement getting stone-cold high. I didn’t have time to focus on the drama that Spade loved to dwell in. The deeper we got off into robbing cats, the more bodies I claimed under my belt. Shit was getting crazy. And even though I didn’t mind popping a cat, I detested not having control.

  After I smoked the first blunt down to the nub and rolled another, I broke out one of the laundry bags of product, then dumped the contents onto the floor. Every piece of jewelry, crack, dollar bill, and pistol we robbed from them punks was well worth the blood on my hands; but Spade wilding out had me on another level. The plan was for us to empty the spot and flip the weight into more for us. We’d done just that, but Spade smoking 151s meant his turnup was about to be our downfall.

  Instead of stuffing it all back in the bag and into the stash spot, I took a few stacks for myself, then snuck it out into the van. It was obvious that Spade couldn’t be trusted, so I wasn’t about to let him snort my come-up away. His new addiction wasn’t about to be my downfall. I knew my blood cousin better than his mother even did. We grew up like brothers, but him as a snorter was a stranger in my eyes. As bad as I wanted to be loyal, it was time for me to start separating into my own individuality.

  “Aaah! Rocko! Come get this nigga up off me,” I heard Tiff yelling from two stories up.

  I was hesitant to get into their drama, but she continuously kept yelling, and objects kept smashing into the wall. Because I didn’t want the cops to get called by a nosy neighbor, I sprang up and rushed toward the sound of their voices.

  “I’ma have somebody do yo’ ass in, nigga. Get
up out of my house.”

  “Call who you wanna call. I ain’t leaving till you leaking. I know you snuck me, ho,” Spade shouted.

  When I got to the top of the stairs, I froze, then fell out laughing. “Aye, y’all two are clowning.” As a grown-ass man, I didn’t follow reality shows, but the legendary Joseline and Stevie pregnancy scandal was the funniest gimmick on earth. And here right before my eyes was Tiff waving a piss test. If he knew like I knew, a wrath was coming if she didn’t get her way with that seed she claimed was brewing in her exposed belly.

  “Don’t just stand there laughing,” she tried cutting into me. “Get your damn cousin to chill out or get him up out of my crib.”

  With a front-row seat, I fell back for a moment watching them beef. Tiff might’ve been a rider, but the headache she continuously brought to Spade’s table wasn’t worth it, in my opinion. And from the looks of it, he’d slipped up and fucked himself for at least eighteen years to life. It wasn’t my place to judge, but Tiff was the last type of woman you wanted to breed kids with. He should’ve been back at the room putting some babies up in his wife.

  I tuned back into their argument with Tiff threating to get even with Spade. That was my cue to get both him and me up out of there. “A’ight, cuz, let’s shoot that move up back up the highway. I ain’t with all the threats ya girl spitting.” I kept it real. I’ve never been a fan of Tiffany’s—Spade was well aware of that—so for her to be talking wild had me ready to react.

  “Yeah, gon’ to wifey so you can tell her she’s got a stepson or -daughter on the way,” Tiff giggled, then darted into her bedroom—slamming and locking the door. “Take yo’ ass on, Spade. I’ll be here when you get back,” she screeched from the other side.

  Before Spade could even get a head start running to kick down the door, I grabbed his shirt, shoving him into the wall. “Cuz, quit tripping on ole girl. She ain’t going nowhere by the looks of it, and we need to bounce. Right about now, this right here is a no-fly zone. I ain’t with that bitch making threats that can get me caught up in y’all’s crossfire.”

  I could see the cold glare in his eye in disbelief that I’d yoked him up so quickly, effortlessly, and aggressively—but the act was done.

  “That’s cool. I feel you. I’ll take care of Tiff on my own. But, um, try falling back when it comes to putting yo’ hands on me—real talk,” he grimed me, then straightened his roughed up collar.

  Spade

  Every word coming out of Rocko’s mouth might’ve been legit, yet and still, my eyes couldn’t stop icing him. This nigga must’ve been getting high off the same supply I was while he was alone in the basement to be putting his hands on me—let alone collaring me up against the wall. Between him and Tiff, I was about ready to pop off.

  “Do me a solid and make sure the product is stashed properly. I’ll be out right after I take a leak,” I lied, truly wanting to sneak a hit. After all that’s gone down, I felt I needed a pick-me-up.

  “A’ight, but don’t take a long time. I’m itching to get on the road and ain’t got time for the soap opera that’s titled ‘you and your sidepiece,’” were Rocko’s last words before he flew down the stairs.

  Who in the hell told this fool he was boss? He better be lucky he’s blood, or I would’ve put one up top with his name on it for his ass. My thoughts raced and became more irrational as I laced a blunt for the road. Too much occurred today making me need the Christmas cookie, so the hood called ’em, to mellow me out.

  “Hurry yo’ sneaky ass up out of that room and lock this door, Tiff,” I yelled upstairs, then walked out.

  By the time I got in the passenger seat, she was standing in the front door with a ripped mug set into her face. Rubbing her belly with a look of bitterness, I knew Tiff meant business about having that baby. My messiness was about to catch up in the form of Karma.

  * * *

  Tiff: I’ve been throwing up all day—every day, nigga! Since you’ve been gone, it’s been nothing but eating, sleeping, and vomiting.

  We hadn’t been on the road for ten minutes, and already Tiff was texting me. At first, I swiped past her messages, refusing to read the madness, and then I began putting two and two together, comparing her and Jakia. The same way I’d left Jakia earlier in the room—sick as a dog—was the same way Tiff claimed she’d been for the last few weeks of me being on a hiatus. That had a player like me shook. Buzzing or not, I felt some type of way. Since I had the remaining pregnancy tests in my back pocket, my questions weren’t about to remain unanswered for long.

  “Hey, Rocko, you can’t drive no faster? I know this a grandma van and all, but, damn.” I was over the pleasantries. I’d peeped how he’d cut into me earlier, so it was clear we needed new formed lines and boundaries. Plus, I was burning to get back to the room.

  “You better smoke you some; be cool. I ain’t in the mood to spaz out with you again ’cause you beefing with yo’ bitch,” Rocko put me on blast.

  “Nigga, whatever. You gonna quit coming at me sideways. Save some of that big talking authority for that trick Lezlee. She’s the one that needs to be checked.”

  “You have no idea how the tables are about to turn,” Rocko spoke underneath his breath. “You better believe me when I say—the game is about to change.”

  “Whatever, dude. You ain’t said nothing but a word,” I blew off whatever he called himself trying to say. My own drama was overwhelming enough. I didn’t have time to figure out Rocko’s riddles.

  Jakia

  “Hey, Jakia, get yo’ ass up and pee on this stick!” So caught up in writing Juan, I hadn’t heard Spade come in. I tried sliding the notepad underneath the blanket, but he was too slick for my game. I looked up at him waving a single pregnancy test in my face. First and foremost, where was the rest of the pack? “Hurry up and get yo’ slick ass up and into the bathroom. I ain’t got all night.”

  What else does he have to do—that his dirty ass ain’t already done? Reeking like marijuana, Spade was either tricking cash at the strip club or on his stripper ex-chick Tiff. Either way, I couldn’t figure out how either one of those things had to do with him cutting into me like he was. Did he put two and two together from earlier? Not having a choice but to leave my letter to Juan unattended, I slid out of bed and moved like a turtle toward the bathroom. I was trying to delay him finding out, though I knew that was no longer possible. I pulled my pajama pants and panties down, sat on the toilet, then let a few droplets fall onto the stick purposely holding the rest back. If only this test could come back a false-negative, I’d have more time to figure shit out.

  “Don’t fuckin’ play me slick; piss more!” Spade wasn’t playing the stupid role like I needed him to.

  Two minutes later, Spade was looking over my shoulder as I read the word “positive” on the EPT Digital First Response pregnancy test. My knees were weak, and my eyes began watering instantly. I might’ve been attached to the strong thought of being pregnant, but I was no fool—Spade was about to crush that want.

  “You will pay for trying to keep a secret from me.” He squeezed my shoulder blades tightly. The intensity shot up and down my spine, then settled in the upper discs of my back.

  “I wasn’t trying to keep a secret from you. How could I when I just found out myself?” Yeah, I was lying and playing it dumb—every woman knows her body, plus I’d snuck a test already. And right down to the milky white discharge, I knew a baby was forming inside of me—or a helluva STD.

  “When is the last time yo’ fat ass been on the pad? Come to think of it, I haven’t brought none to this damn room! Don’t think you about to trap me with a baby, Jakia.” Spade was fuming as I moved quickly through the room from any hits he wanted to serve me up with. He was hot on my trail with such little space to maneuver through.

  “Trap you? I thought the vows ‘till death do us part’ meant you were dedicated to being trapped,” I sarcastically spat, not caring about the consequences.

  Whap!

  He sla
pped me across the face. Like a soldier, I took it without dropping a tear, then fell back onto the bed. If he wanted to beat my ass, he could. But from here on out, I’d have a voice. Shocked and appalled by my reaction, from the look on his face you’d think he could read my thoughts.

  “Flip through these yellow pages and find a clinic for me to take yo’ black ass to in the morning. When I’m ready to give you a baby, I’ll let you know.” Kissing my stinging cheek gently, I fought back spitting on him. If he only knew....

  I flipped each page with as much attitude as I could muster up. Looking him boldly in the face, Spade no longer looked like the scary monster I’d been terrified of for the past year. I mocked Vanessa Bell Calloway on Coming to America, knowing it would piss him all the way off. She was the subservient bride-to-be that Akeem never married. Bowing my head in agreement, underneath all this humor was burning pain. “Of course, Spencer . . . You can have whatever you like.”

  “Let’s see how many jokes you have when they’re snatching that bastard up out of ya. Stay put—I’ll be right back.” Spade walked out of the room with a blunt in his hand.

  That’s when the storm of tears I’d been holding back rushed from my eyes. I hated Spencer Spade Johnson with a burning passion. I went from wanting my baby to wanting Spade dead. No further thought on the subject was needed.

  14

  Rocko

  “I’m so tired of spending night after night in this dump, babe.” She leaned up trying to kiss my lips. “Why can’t we take both shares of our money and dip? It can just be you and me.” Lezlee’s pleas were in vain.