I’m just sayin. I ain’t too pun-chew-al. If you want punctuality, you need tah pick a nigga up. That’s all I’m sayin’, and a nigga be ready.” Victor said to Keyana.
“Okay, I’ll pick you up then. Eight o’clock. Okay?” She said in her sweetest voice.
“That’s what I’m talkin bout. I’m on time when a mah fucka pick me up but I ain’t too punk-chew-al when I gotstah do the drivin thing. You talkin bout. ‘Don’t be late Victor. Be there.’ Well shit if you want to run things then pick a mah fucka up and show him round town. We be on your time now.”
“Okay, babay. See you tomorrow at eight.”
“Bet,” Victor rang off.
*******************
Here he was, waitin on a mah fucka. Out on the damn doorsteps in front of his apartment, freezin his damn nuts off. This bitch tryin to make a damn point or some shit. He didn’t give two damns! If she wasn’t in front of his place when the minute hand struck four. She could kiss his black ass goodnight! He fired up a Bali Hai, a smooth clove cigarette. Smokin to keep his mind off the chill. Takin in his environment. Waitin like only a nigga could do. Doin it the way it should be done, in a mah fuckin cool ass way. Noddin his head in a only the hood would know at a mah fucka, a nod that says to one and all, "I’m just waitin for a mah fucka nigga, peace out. " And they see the demeanor, like only street niggas know, that mah fuckah legit, lets roll out, be cool my nigga, he got a nod back at the various mah fuckas that rolled pass, always mah fuckas speaking back at the mah fucka in a friendly nod respectfully reciprocated. Tops had always said about him, “Mah fuckas be askin bout you bo-ah!” Tops had said after taking a long hit off the Jay while holding it in and talkin at the same time.
“Fuck that,” as he received the peace pipe, “I don’t bother no mah fucka. I ain’t got no enemies. And if they perceive me as their enemy, they have the problem, I don’t. I don’t fuck with no one unless fucked unto!”
Tops lost most of the weed smoke that was in his lungs by the crazy mah fucka and his damn language. Mah fuckah funny as hell using the type of language and being able to jones like his ass did.
“Nah, mah fuckah. I’m talkin ‘bout in a good way. Dawg! Your name is solid round this mah fuckah. Mah fuckahs be like, damn, where your boy Vick at man. He coo as hell! You remember I told you I knew we were gonna be friends for a lifetime when your ass jumped in that fight when those five niggas was gonna jump me?” Tops asked smilin and reminiscing about this mah fuckah sittin next to him, mellowin out with. His nigga if he never got any bigger. Vick was a solid mah fuckah. He smiled when people knew Vick was his best friend, his road dog,
“Yeah,” Victor said to him, back there with Tops remembering the same event. “Me thinks we would have gotten our asses kicked. But I would made at least two remember never to cross path with this crazy mah fuckah again. “ Laugin at his comment. Because he would have. Shit Angie had taught him a thing or two in jiu-jitsu. He would volunteer to be her partner and he would go over to her house, and she and her father would have a gui for him and the both of them taught Victor how to rumble. He couldn’t touch Angie in that category. She would have him tapping out in no time. He definitely would have gotten at least two maybe all of them once they started hearing bones crackin and a mah fuckah lookin like they been shot. Sheeit. Ain’t nothin like that. A sound you know a mah fuckah fucked up.
“Mah fuckah be likin you that’s all I’m sayin. Thanks for being a true friend man, on the real.”
“No problems my nigga. You know how we roll!” As he stuck his left hand out for a pound and stuck the right one out to pass the bud. Tops gave his friend pound with his right hand and took the jay with his left.
“Right on, man,” Tops said to his man Vick, as they watched Jay Jay, Judge Judy, lambastin this trailer park trash white man.
Here he was. Likeable Vick, freezin his nuts off, for a look at that woman one more time. Umm. But shit, principle, was principle. And damnit the clock had struck four. He was takin his black ass back up to his apartment and chill his ass out. Fuck, Keyanna,"... like the key you open the door with," he remebered her sayin upon him askin her name. Nigga women? Always concerned about being different. Like the name says it all. But this black bitch! Shit, ain’t no woman worth the nut cold he was gettin. Not even the way she was lookin. Fuck this! He thunked his butt. And turned and wouldn’t you know it, black Land Rover pullin up the parking lot. She smiled this sweet smile. While she pulled up where he was and opened the door from the inside and pushed it open to let him in. “Need a ride?” Keyana had said seductively as she licked her top lip slowly, playfully.
Victor was not amused in the least. He stepped up to the side of the SUV and said to her.
“I’m takin my black ass up to my apartment. I’m done for the night. You have a better one lady,” as he shut the door and went up to his apartment. Went into the bathroom. Stripped. Took a lukewarm, then hot shower. To relax himself and warm himself. He got out and dried off very thoroughly. Almost exaggerating the movements, like a mime. Trying to make this action and everyone after, definite, to take his mind off of his frustrations. People always playing games he was saying in his mind. Trying to make some kind of sense to it. He lotioned well. Then he put on deodorant, Grey Flannel cologne and brushed his hair, eyebrows and mustache. He had just put on his long sleeve tee and loose warm up pants with no underwear when the phone rang.
“Hello?” Victor answered.
“Can I come up?” Keyana asked in the most sexual voice he had ever heard. Something was underneath that question. Shit, and if it was, he wanted to find out. Would be a fool not to.
“You still down there lady?” he looked at the clock it was a little after nine.
“I knocked on your door for thirty minutes and I’ve been blowin up your cellular and home phone. But you wouldn’t answer either. So, can I come up?” There went that voice again.
“Keyana. Me casa. Su casa. I’ve told you that. You don’t have to ask to come over to my place. As long as you remember what we’ve discussed.
“Good. ’Cause I’m at your door now.” (to be continued...)
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