Get Some (9 page)

Tony took real good care of his guns. Flo thought that if he had paid that kind of attention to her they might have been able to work something out. But no, Tony was from that old school of women being in the kitchen and not having opinions. No, all Flo wanted was what Tony had and the way she felt now after all that had just happened, she'd suck a golf ball out of a water hose to get it.

T
rudy rushed home and double-locked her door. Her phone was sirening loudly from the cradle. Her makeup was smeared and some of her braids were dripping with yolk.

“Hello?” she said, snatching up the receiver while rinsing her hair in the sink.

“What happened?” Charles asked fast. “Did Flo see you go by? I saw your car in my rearviews with Ray Ray.”

Trudy didn't tell him what happened with Flo. “You're with Ray Ray? Does he know?” Trudy said low, even though she was alone.

“He doesn't know shit,” Charles whispered back. “But I'm sweating bullets just being with blood. All I know is you wouldn't be talking to me now if Ray Ray knew we switched those damn bags.”

Deep grooves grew across Trudy's forehead. It wouldn't be good if Ray Ray found out he'd been tricked. All Ray Ray had was a couple of hundreds, and newspaper cut down to size.

“What should we do now?” Trudy asked Charles. She was still a little flustered from Flo running to her car. She wanted her money so she could hurry and leave town.

“Meet me at the club. Just sit and act natural. We'll divvy it all up when you get here.”

Trudy didn't like that Charles was in control, but she had to act cool, let him call the shots. He was the one with the money.

Trudy hung up and quickly tossed her things in a satchel. Everything she needed was in that tight little bag. She was leaving tonight. She wouldn't be back. Her plan was to settle with Charles, give Vernita her cut and get on the road tonight, but now she had to go to the club.

“Fuck!” Trudy said to herself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Dee's was the last place she wanted to be. Besides, it was dangerous now. She had just ripped off a drug dealer's money. She didn't want Jimmy to point his flashlight on her.

Trudy pulled a white dress from the back of her closet. She wanted to appear cleaner than water. She rummaged through what she'd already packed in the bag: two dresses, two pairs of pants, three blouses, a few T-shirts, a new pair of shoes, some Nikes and a white pair of socks. She folded the handgun in a black bandana. The gun was the last thing she'd stolen from her mother. When Joan threw Trudy out she'd smuggled her gun. She carefully placed the gun in her purse.

She popped in a Barry White tape to calm her nerves.

Suddenly the telephone rang.

“Whatcha doing listening to that old school stuff, girl?”

It was Jimmy!
Oh shit,
Trudy thought.

“Hey,” Trudy said, trying her best to sound sleepy.

“Don't try to play like you taking a nap, baby. I've been waiting across the street. I saw you pull up. Now open this door and quit playin'.”

Trudy panicked. Jimmy wouldn't just come over here, would he? How long had he been waiting? Why was he here? She walked over to the front window and peeled back the blinds. Jimmy's black SUV was parked right in her driveway.

“Why are you trying to sneak up on a girl?” Trudy said while shoving her satchel under the table with one foot. “Just give me five minutes before you come to the door. I've got to get myself together.”

“I'm not waiting no fucking five minutes, girl. Open this damn door up now,” he commanded.

God damn! Does he know? Why is he here?
Trudy hung up. Her eyes flashed over her apartment. It was a royal mess. She had stuff all over the floor, trying to figure out what to pack. She picked up the little clothes pile on the floor and shoved it on the big clothes pile and carried it to the closet. Trudy pushed all her odd shoes and purses and belts under the bed. She yanked the comforter up and fluffed the two pillows. She took the dishes in the sink and put them all in a large plastic tub. She gathered the various cups and plates from around the TV and next to her bed and then carried the whole thing to the back porch and left it out there on the steps. She took all the brochures about Las Vegas and hid them under the rug.

Act cool, girl,
Trudy told herself in the mirror. The doorbell rang. Trudy's eyes darted quickly around the room again. Everything seemed okay. Then she saw it lying out on the sink. It was her stash. Six thousand eight hundred bucks lay gaping from an open envelope on the sink. She'd skimped and saved, living on one meal a day, hoarding half of each check and surviving on Dee's Parlor singing and tips.

The bell rang again, longer this time. She opened a pack of Kraft macaroni and cheese and dumped the contents in the trash. She tucked back the flap and shoved the envelope inside. “Coming,” she called toward the door.

Trudy zipped her snug dress and slipped some black fuck-me pumps on. Smearing gloss over her trembling lips, she gently opened the door.

Jimmy didn't say a word. He walked briskly inside. His eyes scanned her room and traveled over her body, and his breath was like an overrun horse.

“What are you doing dropping over out the blue like this, boy?” Trudy asked, smiling widely. She tried to keep it light.

“What?” Jimmy said leaning close to her face. Jimmy didn't smile at Trudy at all. “You trying to tell me what to do?”

“Shoot, I just asked you a question.” Trudy threw her thick braids across her shoulder and walked away, but Jimmy grabbed her arm and yanked her back.

Aw, shit!
Trudy thought.
Brotherman knows something. My ass is busted.
Her eyes went to the bag with her gun. But all he did when he pulled her was lean down and kiss her, sucking the length of her neck. “Don't ever keep me waiting outside like that, baby.” He kissed her again, squeezing and rubbing on her body. Suddenly he pulled her away and stared into her eyes. “I don't play that shit, okay?”

“Sorry, I'm just tired. I haven't been able to sleep.” Though she breathed out the faintest sigh of relief, inside she shook like a leaf.

“You have any Courvoisier?” Jimmy asked, skimming her meager liquor cabinet.

All Trudy had was one swallow of Cuervo, a dab of Alizé and a bottle of Merlot for show.

Trudy went in the kitchen and opened the wine. She saw a corner of the Kraft box and shut the cabinet all the way. She kicked her satchel farther under the table.

When she came back, a fat gun lay on the coffee table. Trudy's hand trembled when she handed him the glass. But Jimmy didn't notice. He was peering into his wallet. He spread five hundred dollars on her table.

“Who's that for?”

“You, girl. I take care of my boo.” He took his glass from Trudy and pressed her hand to his lips. “Get your hair done, stock your liquor cabinet—shit, I don't care, baby, but make sure you got some Courvoisier next time. That's the only kind of shit I like.”

Trudy sat down on the couch next to Jimmy. She tried not to look at the gun but couldn't help it. A cold fear started to leak into her body. Her blood warmed her face and her heartbeat sped up. It was just how she felt when she stole. Suddenly she could hear Pearl's voice clear as day: “Ain't nothing ever free in this world, girl. If ever you think you got something for free it just means they ain't figured what to charge your butt yet.”

Trudy tried to shake those thoughts from her mind. She took the money from the coffee table and slipped it inside a book, just in case he decided to take the bills back.

Jimmy downed his wine and pulled Trudy to his lap. He was nibbling her lobe with his teeth when he noticed the black satchel on the floor in the kitchen. He scowled and looked in her face.

“You fixin' to leave?” Jimmy asked, puzzled. He pulled Trudy's chin toward his face.

“Oh, that's my Goodwill,” she lied easily. “Nothing in it but junk. Every time I buy something I give something away. I'm taking it to the second-hand store in the morning.” She hoped he wouldn't look at the contents inside. She figured it was best to change the subject.

Trudy took his drink and put it down on the table. She straddled his legs and bent over his chest and fiercely kissed him on the mouth.

“You bad girl,” Jimmy said, holding her waist. “You know how to treat a man good.”

Trudy was quaking with fear but lifted her dress. Jimmy's wool pants tickled the fresh skin under her thighs. Laying back, Jimmy allowed her to straddle his waist. Trudy usually liked sitting on top of men like this. Right in their laps. Staring down in their faces. It gave her a thrilling feeling of sexual power. But this time was different. She felt vulnerable and open. Like realizing you left the front door unlocked, or hearing a loud noise while taking a shower. But Trudy hid her fear. She learned how to fake it. She concentrated on Jimmy instead.

He was wearing suspenders with a blue oxford shirt. It was stiff like it had just left the cleaners. The tapered cut accentuated his firm, narrow waist. His wide shoulder blades spread for days. He was cut. There was definitely no doubt about that. The man was six-six and so damn big and strong, he looked like car alarms would go off when he walked by.

Trudy started unbuttoning his shirt in slow motion. With her red dagger nails she tugged on each button until the round circle inched out the slit. The blue shirt fell open. His wide chest rose up, revealing his clingy white tank. Those tank tops were all called “wife beaters” now, because every time you saw a cop show and there was a domestic brawl, the man they dragged out always had one on. Trudy yanked up the tank and started rubbing his chest. With one hand she unhooked his belt.

“What's the hurry, baby?” Jimmy asked, smiling. “Relax, take your time. I'm not going anywhere, girl.” Jimmy held her waist, like she was a valuable vase. Something he didn't want to drop. He squeezed her, then unzipped the back of her dress. He unfastened her bra and pulled it out from under each arm and began circling her nipples with his tongue.

Trudy was losing her mind. Her breath beat fast as propellers. Jimmy was doing things that shot all the way up her spine. But damn it! She didn't have time for this now. She wanted to be done. To be out the door. But his tongue seared her flesh. He excited her skin. With her nerves all on edge he was hitting a deep itch. She tried to resist. Her mind struggled to fight it. But in no time she was butter sliding across a hot knife.

“You act like you're starving,” Trudy said with clenched teeth.

“I am,” he said, looking at her hard, then slowly closing both his eyes.

“Why?” she asked, breathing in quick staccato. “Don't you get enough to eat?” Was she crazy? This fool could snap her damn neck. She had to get him out of the apartment.

Jimmy slid a wet finger along the length of cleavage. “Not quality.” His hand explored her whole figure now, feeling her hips and that legendary ass.

“Now, aren't we aggressive,” she said low in his ear. She loosened the belt on his black knife-creased slacks. She unzipped them with her teeth.

“I know,” he said, skillfully flipping her over. “I kind of got that in spades.” He reached up and clicked off the light. “But it looks like ol' Jimmy finally met his match.”

Trudy laughed but a cold fear had lodged in her tonsils. She wanted him gone. She had to do something. If she gave him some maybe he'd at least go to sleep; she could sneak out the back door. She reached for the oil she kept under the couch next to a basket of condoms. Trudy rubbed her hands together until they were both piping hot and then massaged her warm palms across his thick, bench-pressed stomach. Jimmy moaned deep, and his breathing got heavy, the sensation made his massive legs twitch. Trudy ripped open the condom pack with her teeth, rolling it over Jimmy's skin like a new pair of stockings.

Finally, he just couldn't take any more. Jimmy held down both arms and began grinding her skin. Massaging her slow, mixing a warm ghetto roughness that made Trudy purr like a cub. This was good. But got damn, it was dangerous now. And even though his belt buckle dug into her skin, even though she tried hard to stay in control, the whole dam was broke; Trudy could not stop the flow. She began to glide right off of the planet. But her fear was what made the whole feeling exciting. Fear heightened her senses. It ignited desire. She was scared stiff but couldn't stop thrusting her hips. Her body betrayed her. It laughed in her face. His touch made her grunt, made her bite her own wrist. She felt full but still hungry. She felt thirsty yet wet. Her body had turned into one starved, sloppy sponge. She wanted to wipe something up. Though outside she tried to appear as cool as a freezer, inside she raged like a Malibu fire. His thunder, his fierceness was burning her up. He wanted her. All his ripped muscles told her that. His body said he wanted her bad. The fact that he could hurt her made her widen her legs. She knew she was crazy but her lust seized her mind. She dangled somewhere between sizzling bliss and the thought that tonight she might die. The panic grew stronger. It screamed in her veins. Her breathing was so intense the sound drummed in her brain. Did Jimmy know something? Did Jimmy suspect? She teetered on the edge of terror and desire as Jimmy's firm hands clutched the small of her back.

“Gimme that pussy!”

“It's your pussy, daddy!”

Her body kept responding. Her fear fueled her pleasure. When she moaned in his ear it was real this time. Jimmy's body rubbed her stomach in a maddening frenzy, and she met each stroke, arching her back, frantically gasping for breath. Trudy barely could stand it. She wanted him to stop, ease a bit some, but she heard her own voice beg for more. Her low moans had now turned to guttural screams. Her braids slapped against the hard wooden floor. The couch banged and shook the cold stucco wall. And just when she thought she couldn't take any more, just when she thought her pink lungs would explode, Jimmy stopped suddenly. He clicked on the light. He wiped her wild braids out of her sweaty, drenched face.

Jimmy glared down at Trudy with a menacing stare. His forehead was soaking wet.

Oh no!
Trudy thought. What was he doing? Why was he staring at her like this now?
Oh my God, he must know!
Trudy nervously glanced at his gun.