Booty Call *69 (2 page)

I like to have fun and enjoy life. I’m only nineteen, and I live like a nineteen-year-old partying, meeting guys, admiring the cute ones and
dissin’ the ugly ones, having sex, roaming the streets and being cool. I’ve already graduated high school, and I’m in no rush to go to college. Whatever I own or have, I get it from guys who willingly buy it for me. They offer, I accept. I’m not going to turn nothing down; everything I get goes to good use.

I live with my mother and aunt, who are just as promiscuous and conceited as me; that’s where I get it from. My mother’s only thirty-five and my aunt is only twenty- eight. They’re still young and doing their thing. We all go clubbing and hang out sometimes. Most of the men think we’re all the same age, but when I tell ‘em that one of them is my moms and the other one is my aunt, they freak out. “For real?” they always ask.

I don’t have any sisters or brothers, but I have a shitload of cousins. My grandmother gave birth to seven children. My Aunt Tina is the youngest. She’s the one who lives with us. The oldest is my Uncle Tommy, who’s forty-nine. He lives out in Seattle, Washington. I haven’t seen him in years. I get along with my family overall, even though we often argue and fight and want to sometimes kill each other, but that’s a regular black family for you. And we all grew up in the projects.

My mother always told me that I was born to be a model. I don’t argue; I get compliments wherever I go. I got guys wanting to take me away on vacation—Jamaica, Bermuda, Barbados, you name it—all expenses paid. But so far, I’ve always turned ‘em down. I really don’t know why. Maybe it’s the type of men who ask me. I’m not really feeling them like that. And you know if they’re paying to take you to some tropical island, they’re going to want some pussy in return. I’m not at all for fucking a niggah just because he paid for my plane ride so I can lie on a beach in the sun. Don’t get me wrong, I do like to fuck. But I just don’t give my pussy up to any niggah with
fat pockets and a cute face. I can be a bitch, but I’m no ho or slut—don’t get it twisted!

I arrive home and quickly jump in the shower, pissed the fuck off. That niggah wasn’t worth my precious time. My friends tell me that I’m very picky, but I have the right to be. I feel that my body is my temple and my time is precious, so a brotha must be about something. He must be honest, funny and smart. And also, one of the most important things of all, he must look good. I want my kids to be cute, so you know the niggah I’m with gotta be attractive. They say it’s what’s inside that matters. Bullshit! I know I don’t want to be waking up every morning looking over at some butt ugly man for the rest of my life, and worrying about what my kids are going to look like when I give birth. Looks have everything to do with a relationship. The first thing that attracts you to someone is their appearance and the way they dress and talk. Then you get to know the personality and attitude, see what they’re about.

My mother, Denise, knocks on my door and then walks into my room to tell me that Jakim is on the phone. I look at the time. It’s eight o’ clock in the morning.

“What he want?” I ask.

“He wants to talk to you.”

Jakim’s my ex-boyfriend. We broke up a month ago. After being together like Barbie and Ken for two years, he started to act like a jerk. I guess he thought he was a
mack
or something, ‘cause a few bitches wanted to give him some ass. What really made me mad was that he was paying more attention to them than me. I’m sorry, but I’m not the type of girl to
play second to any bitch; if I can’t be first, then I won’t be anything. Now he’s calling, trying to seduce and romance me over the phone. Just a week after we broke up, four of his friends tried to talk to me. But of the four, I’m only feeling one of them—Tyrone; he’s definitely a cutie, and he drives a BMW.

“Shana, did I wake you?”

“No. I was gonna call you,” I say being sarcastic.

“You were?” he asks.

“No, stupid. You woke my ass up. What do you want?”

“I wanna talk to you.”

“Jakim, it’s eight in the morning. I ain’t get in the house till five.”

“Where were you?” he asks.

“What? That’s none of your business; we’re no longer together. Remember, you wanted to fuck with them other bitches around the way….”

“But I’m sayin’, though…”

“You’re saying what, Jakim? Just do you and I’ll do me. Look, I’m going back to sleep.” I hang up the phone. A few seconds later the phone rings again. “I’m not here!” I shout out. I know it’s Jakim calling back. He doesn’t like to be hung up on—not that I care. As far as I’m concerned, he can kiss my ass.

I don’t get out of bed till one in the afternoon. Besides Jakim calling me so fuckin’ early in the morning, I had a good sleep.

Like the other women in this house, I get money from men, so I don’t stress employment. You’d be surprised how much cash brothers like Jakim, Tyrone and a few others will hand over when they think they gonna get some ass.

My mom’s on public assistance and sometimes works different
jobs here and there. But like me, she gets men to support her wants and needs. They swarm around her, just wanting to taste a piece of the action. My mom has long, gorgeous, silky black hair that hangs down her back—as mine does—and it’s not a weave either. She’s red-boned, pretty and sporting the hell out of a terrific, full-figured body. The only difference between me and my moms is that I’m taller, slimmer and have light brown eyes. My Aunt Tina’s a fuckin’ gold digger. I be hatin’ ‘cause she be doin’ her thang out there.

I walk into the living room and see Danny on the couch watching TV. He’s my mama’s man, five years younger than she is and got it going on. He has neat, well kempt, long dreads, muscular arms and a strong-looking chest—something a female can definitely work with. He’s tall, handsome and has a nicely trimmed beard. He goes to the barber to get his shit shaped up like once a week. He also got money! He drives around in a green Range Rover. They say he’s a big-time drug dealer, but he owns his own barber-shop and a nice little bar on Merrick Boulevard. I be envying my mother sometimes; she got the kind of man I dream about every night. I know he be doing her right in the bedroom, too; I be hearing her through the walls. Shit, Danny makes my pussy wet every time I see him. But I keep my affection and hormones to myself. I mean, he is my mother’s man.

I walk past him as he sits there flipping through the channels with the remote. My robe covers me, but I’m wearing nothing underneath. A part of me wants to jump on this fine man’s lap and fuck the shit out of him. But I just smile and say, “Good morning.”

“What up, Shana?” he replies smiling back at me.

He watches me as I walk toward the kitchen, where my mom is cooking up a late breakfast—scrambled eggs and sausages. I go to the
fridge and grab a pitcher of orange juice. I then pour myself a cup.

“Late night last night?” my mother asks.

“My night sucked,” I tell her, leaning against the sink drinking my orange juice.

She’s in her robe, too. I know she just finished getting her groove on with Danny. “So, Aunt Tina left already?” I ask.

“No, that bitch got a date with Michael tonight.”

“Michael? What the hell she doin’ goin’ out with that faggot? What happened to T.J?”

“He got locked up last week.”

“Oh! I know she’s mad.”

My mother nods her head in agreement. “So what’s up with you and Jakim? Y’all getting back together again or what?” she asks.

“No. He had his shot, and he fucked up a good thing. Shit, I’m over that muthafucka now.” Yeah, I curse in front of my mother.

“You know, y’all do look good together,” she says.

“We used to, but now I’ve moved on.” My mother doesn’t say another word to me. She fixes Danny’s plate and serves it to him as he continues watching television. She then snuggles up to her man as he eats his breakfast. That dick must have been real good to her earlier. I grab the two pieces of sausage left on the stove and head back to my room.

I sit in my room and contemplate on where to go or who to call. I’m not about to stay in the house today. I turn on my stereo and listen to some Mary J. Blige. Soon after, the phone rings and my mother picks up and shouts that it’s for me. I pick up. It’s Sasha.

“What’s up, bitch?!” she hollers.

“Nothin’. What’s up with you?”

“Yo, Shana, you know there’s a party tonight over at that new club on Merrick, right?”

“Word? Who’s poppin’ there tonight?”

“Everybody, you ain’t heard? There’s supposed to be mad cuties rolling through,” Sasha says excitedly. “So you rolling or what?”

“Yeah, I’m rolling. Come pick me up now, though. I ain’t got shit to do for the rest of the day.”

“Aiight, then. I’ll be through there in a half. Be ready, bitch.”

“Bitch, just hurry your ass up…Danny’s here,” I blurt out. She has a crush on him, too.

“Word, what his fine ass up to?”

“You know, chilling with my mom.”

“Damn, your mom is a lucky bitch,” Sasha says. “Look, I gotta go. See you soon.”

I hang up and rush over to my closet to throw on something to wear. I know there’s no reason to rush; Sasha ain’t gon’ be here in no half hour. Shit, I’ll be lucky if she shows in an hour. I jump into the shower and fantasize about having Danny in here with me. I wonder how big his dick is and what he could probably do with it. I get so carried away dreaming about him that I slip my hand inside my pussy and begin to play with myself. Once I get good and started, there’s no reason for me to stop. After my shower and a good nut, I walk to my room and leave my door ajar, just in case Danny walks by. Oh, well, that idea’s a bust; he’s with my mother in her bedroom.

I throw on my tight-fitting, blue Guess jeans, my gray Guess sweater and a gray baseball cap—just something casual for the day. All I’m going to do is hang out with my girls.

It’s going on three, and this bitch, Sasha, still hasn’t come around. She got me sittin’ around watching afternoon talk shows. My mother is still in the bedroom with Danny, which is making me even more impatient.
Shit, I wish this bitch would hurry up,
I say to myself. Soon after, the doorbell rings. I jump off the couch and go answer the door. To my surprise, it’s not Sasha. Jakim decided to stop by—unannounced.

“What’s up, Shana?” he says standing there smiling.

“What the fuck do you want, Jakim?”

“What, I can’t stop by no more?”

“No, you can’t just be stopping by. Why are you here?”

“I just came to see how you were doing,” he says.

“Niggah, I’m doing fine without you. I know what you want, and it ain’t happening. Go get your dick wet with one of your trifling hoes down the street,” I angrily state.

“Shana, it ain’t even like that….”

“Niggah, didn’t I hang up on you just this morning?! Didn’t you get the fucking hint? Bye!” I shout. I try to slam the door in his stupid-looking face, but he blocks it with his foot.

“C’mon, Shana, I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve missed you, baby,” he says with his foot still jammed in between the door.

“Move your foot, Jakim!” He’s still standing there, pleading.
Damn, is my pussy that good to niggahs?
I can’t really get that mad with him, because I know I still love him. He’s my heart, but he needs to know that I should come first in his life. He thought we were going to break up and he’d be able to fuck other bitches. Then when he got done, he’d come running back to me, begging for forgiveness. No! It doesn’t work that way. I got too much respect for myself. I’m not one of these stupid bitches in the street
he can game and have his way with. After being together for two years, he should’ve known better. He should’ve known how I get down. But I guess he wasn’t taking notes.

“Jakim, I ain’t playing with you. Please move your fucking foot!” I continue to shout.

“What’s going on out here?” my mother asks, coming out of her bedroom tying her robe together.

“Fucking Jakim won’t leave the door!” I scream.

“Jakim, respect my daughter’s wishes and leave here,” my mother calmly tells him.

“But I just want to talk to her, Ms. Banks,” Jakim says.

“It’s obvious that she doesn’t want to talk to you right now, so do yourself a favor and come back and speak to her another day. Don’t get her more upset than she already is,” she tells him.

Jakim backs off, removing his foot from the door. He apologizes to my mother for the noise and disturbance he’s caused. He then stares at me and leaves. I stand in the doorway and watch him drive off in his black Nissan Maxima before closing the door. I turn around and see my mother standing there watching me, and watching Jakim leave.

“You still love him,” she says. “I can see it in your eyes.”

“Yeah, right,” I try to deny.

“It’s okay, Shana. We all go through the same problems with men. It’s just knowing when and how to deal with them,” she advises before going back to her bedroom to her own damn man.