Booty Call *69 (7 page)

“Don’t be pulling on me,” she spits. We’ve both gotten on each other’s nerves tonight. I can see in her face that she wants to fuck me up for having been such a bitch. But she knows better. “I’ll see if Cell’s ready, bitch!” she says harshly.
Fuck her, too
.

Mr. Too Ugly appears. He’s so embarrassed that he can’t even look at me. I laugh and walk away from him. I go back to the bar, and the bartender slips me another free drink, but this time he also gives me his number written on a napkin. I give him a little smile, and then I crumble it up and drop it to the floor when he turns away.

We finally prepare to leave the club at two-thirty. On the way out, Cell stops and gives everyone he knows dap and chats for a few seconds here and there. He must think he’s the fucking man because he was able to get us in here for free. I have to laugh. We all pile in his truck and leave. Mr. Too Ugly finally got the hint; he doesn’t say a word to me. He doesn’t even look at me. Unable to take it anymore, I look over at him and ask, “Why are you so ugly?” He still doesn’t give me eye contact. Sasha knows she wants to laugh, but she never looks back at me.

“Yo, why you trying to play my man out like that?” Cell asks defending his friend.

“Ain’t nobody trying to play your man out. He played himself out thinking he could get with me,” I reply. It’s on now. I’m about to rank on the both of them. They ruined my night, so now I’m about to ruin theirs. “Look at your man. He would never see my pussy, no matter how hard he tried,” I say laughing.

“You think you’re all that! You ain’t nothing but a stuck-up, stink-ass bitch!” Cell says.

“Niggah, don’t get jealous because you’re not sniffing it, too. I don’t even know why Sasha is with your ugly ass.”

“Shana, chill,” Sasha pleads.

“Bitch,
you
need to chill—or wake up! I’ve seen you date much better looking guys than him. That niggah look like a fucking spider monkey! He tryin’ to be sexy in that tight, banana-looking muscle shirt. How you gonna wear a muscle shirt with a gut big as yours?” I say to Cell.

“Fuck you, bitch!” he shouts.

“Yeah, you wish…don’t get mad when you know I speak the truth.”

Cell quickly makes a short stop at the light; he almost ran it arguing with me. I jerk forward. So does everyone else in the truck. Mr. Too Ugly just sits there in silence. Shit, not only is he ugly, but he lets me dis him in front of his man. If you’re gonna be ugly, at least have heart, be a man and stand up for yourself. I knew he was pussy.

“Yo, Sasha, I’m about to throw that fake bitch out of my car,” Cell warns.

“
Fake bitch
! Niggah, you need not talk, with your tight little dick,” I say, throwing up my small pinky and wiggling it high for him to see.

“What?” he says stunned.

“All that gut and a penis lost somewhere under it,” I add to the insult.

“Fuck y’all bitches!” he says looking directly at Sasha.

I look over at Mr. Too Ugly and see him crying and staring out the window.
This niggah is
pitiful
.

“Take me home, you fat, small-dick, no-pussy-gettin’, stink-ass niggah!” I say to him. Sasha tries to put her two cents in, but Cell curses her out. That leads to an argument. Jimmy remains quiet in the corner.

The ride home is full of insults. Sasha and I are arguing with each other, too, now. The shit gets so crazy, and this punk niggah kicks me out of his truck and tells my ass to walk home. Sasha doesn’t even stand up for a sista; she continues to sit there in the front seat and lets the niggah put me out of his truck. But I don’t stress it. Fuck that bitch!

Two days later, Sasha and I have it out in front of my crib. She comes banging on my door in the early afternoon talking nonsense. She has the nerve to say I disrespected her.
I disrespected her?
I’m pissed. She’s the one who disrespected me. And she knows my standards. She knows the type of guys I prefer and fuck, so how the fuck
she
gonna get mad after hooking me up with some wildebeest? Every day we make fun of niggahs like Jimmy, trashing ‘em and dissin’ ‘em...and she had the nerve to bring one to my front door, talkin’ ‘bout he’s cool. Then she says I embarrassed her in front of Cell. Bitch! Who is Cell supposed to be first of all? He’s nobody—just some fool whose dick she sucked to get into a club.

Next thing I know, she’s up on me screaming and yelling, arms flailing like she wants to take a swing at me. Then I get up in her face, and that sets the beef off right there. I punch the bitch in her face and grip her
firmly by her hair as we wrestle each other to the ground. I continue punching her in the face, and then we scratch and tear at each other. It seems like the whole neighborhood has come out, crowding around us to watch. “Yo, ain’t they best friends?” I hear someone in the crowd ask.

I’m wearing a pair of Sean John jeans and a blue Gap T-shirt. My Nikes are laced up tight, and my hair is swept up in a ponytail; so it’s hard for her to get at it. But her hair is loose, hanging down past her shoulders. I yank it, snapping the bitch’s neck back. Her nose starts to bleed, and I pin her to the ground and hit her some more.

“Stupid bitch!” I scream out. Sasha’s smaller, and I’m stronger, wilder and faster than she is. Nobody attempts to break up the fight until blood is drawn; somebody comes up and grabs me from behind, pulling me off of Sasha. A few niggahs cop a feel on me as we’re broken apart, but I think nothing of it. Now a few people are holding each of us as we threaten and curse at one other.

“You gonna get yours, bitch!” Sasha repeatedly shouts.

“Fuck you!” I reply.

“Get the fuck off me!” she yells. “I’m gonna kill that stupid bitch!” People continue to hold us back, keeping us from tearing into one another. I struggle fiercely, trying to free myself.

“Take her home!” I hear a woman shout. I see a man carrying her off my lawn and into the streets. He drags her down my block as she continues to curse and holler at me. Her car is still parked in front of my house. I hope she leaves it there; I guarantee that her shit will be demolished by tomorrow morning. But, oh well…someone got a hold of her keys and they drive her car down the block to where she’s being dragged away to.

“Stupid bitch!” I scream out one last time before going into my
house mad and heated, slamming my door shut.

I look in the mirror and notice that the bitch scratched me over my right eye. Then I look out my window and see a crowd still standing out front, excited over what just happened. Some are even playing out how it all went down. I close my blinds and go to my room.
Damn, she was my homegirl, one of my best fr
iends. Now we’re against each other over some silliness.

Nighttime comes, and I cry myself to sleep.

It’s been a week since my fight with Sasha. The day after it happened, everyone around the way knew about it. Word spreads around quickly in the hood.

Jakim came by the very next day after it went down. He asked if I was all right, like I was the one who got fucked up. I didn’t flip on him for once, and it was kinda cool to see him. Ten minutes after Jakim stopped by, Tyrone drove up. My heart skipped a beat when I saw his black BMW pull up with Jakim sitting outside on my front porch. I know they’re boys, but how would Jakim have reacted if he knew his man was coming to check me? I just sat there next to him as Tyrone came walking up. This is how it all went down:

“C’mon, niggah, I should charge you for gas,” Tyrone joked. They both walked toward his car. I followed behind them. As Jakim went around to the passenger side, Tyrone gave me a look. He quickly whispered in my ear while Jakim
was
getting in the car. “I’ll be back around tonight. Be here.” He was smooth with his.

And that’s how that went down. Tyrone’s feelings for me have grown even more now. But he knows what it is between us—just sex. We even had a quick talk about it. We agreed that if our feelings got involved, it would fuck up everything. Tyrone continues to see other people. I do the same, but when we’re together, we both get what we want.

There’s a rumor spreading around the neighborhood that Sasha and a few of her girls are planning to retaliate and jump on me. But that’s a rumor I heard a week ago, and there still hasn’t been any action. And I haven’t seen her since our little incident, so I’m not sweating it. I’m just going on with my life.

My girls, Naja and Latish, are planning on going out to Manhattan to check out Club New York. I decide to roll out there with them and get my party on, too. My plans change when Jakim pulls up. He insists that I go out with him tonight. He says he wants to talk to me about something serious. I tell him yeah; I’m really in no mood to travel out to Manhattan anyway.

I remember how sweet he can be when he opens the passenger
door of his car for me and carefully lets me in, shutting the door behind me. I inform him that this isn’t a date; we’re just hanging out together. It doesn’t mean that we’re getting back together. He agrees.

We stop at a Burger King and then he drives out to Coney Island in Brooklyn, where everything is closed down for the winter. He parks the car, and we get out to walk across the boardwalk.

We discuss old times, and I gaze out at the ocean, arms folded across my chest. I try to keep warm as Jakim makes conversation with me. “I’m surprised you’re not cursing me out,” he says.

“No reason to right now.”

“You always had a wicked tongue.”

“That’s because I keeps it real. You should’ve known better—my man or not. You played yourself when you hurt my feelings, Jakim.”

“But I didn’t play
you
out.”

“Two years together and you want to fuck that stink ho down the block from me.”

“Well, I was wrong about that, Shana. You know how we men get; sometimes we think more with our dicks than with our hearts. I know I fucked up with you.”

“Yes, you did.”

He stops walking. “But me and you, we’re cool, right?” he asks.

“Yeah, we’re still cool,” I say smiling.

“That’s all I need to hear,” he replies.

We continue to walk further down the boardwalk. He does most of the talking while I mainly just listen. I gaze out at the ocean again and see the moonlight gleaming over it. I start to reminisce on the days when he and I would do this frequently. Jakim was always so romantic and smooth.
He knew all the hot spots to take a girl to. He knew the right words to say. If we got into an argument, then the very next day he would show up at my door with flowers and candy like it was Valentine’s Day. I would forgive him and we would have make-up sex. If he was running the streets with Tyrone and the rest of his boys, he would always take time out to give me a call. And the thing I liked the most about him was that he never showed off in front of his boys while I was with him; he would always show me affection right in front of them.

They would watch us and hate. They would say he was pussy whipped. But he didn’t care. He even told me “I love you” in front of his friends a few times. Sometimes I wonder whether it was even necessary to break up, but like he said himself, men think with their dicks more than with their hearts. I still think that’s just an excuse.

Jakim takes my hand into his and holds it gently. I don’t resist. It feels like we’re a couple again. I quickly get rid of the feeling and get back to reality. He cheated on me. He hurt me, and now we’re separated. I still need time away from him.

We stay out on the boardwalk for another fifteen minutes before going back to his car. I know Jakim wants this night to turn out to be something more. It’s obvious to me that he wants to be out here as lovers instead of just friends.