Wednesday, December 07, 2005

...Ain't Gold (Part Eleven)

Nicole slammed her front door in disgust. She had just returned home from a devastating date. Something told her not to take this fool's number but she did anyway. She called this Trey character and went out with him. Next time she'd listen to her gut. She regretted the decision as soon as she made it.
Homie had obviously bought her those drinks at the Shadow because he wanted to get something in return. First of all, he offered to pick her up, giving off the illusion that he had a car and was set. Nicole found out the hard way as they caught the train to Le Bar Bat. Once they got there, he sucked down about three or four expensive drinks, danced with two other girls, forgot her name and made a crack about her choice of outfit. But that wasn’t the coup de grace. It came when he ordered food and yet another drink and conveniently forgot to mention he had no cash. Nicole paid for her own food and quietly left that TAN right where he sat.
Nicole closed and locked her door, leaning her head against it. She closed her eyes and slid off her scarf. She hung her purse on the doorknob and reached down to unzip her boots. She put her fet into fuzzy bunny slippers and walked into the kitchen. She grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay from under her sink and pulled a glass out of the cabinet. She stripped out of her clothes and ran a hot bath. Squeezing in the last of her Peach body wash, she stuck her toe in the water, then slid under the bubbles. Reaching for her remote control, she flicked on The Best of Lenny Williams. As his sexy sounds filled her ears, she closed her eyes and tried to get thoughts of her horrible evening out of her mind. She had hoped that after a long day at work, she could be pleasantly surprised by her date with Trey. She had never been so wrong. She rolled her eyes and downed a sip of wine.
Then her thoughts took a wide pivot of their own volition and her mind came to rest on Rich. The bath had warmed her body and heated her long deadened desires. He was so fine, she thought. She remembered vaguely his hand brushing against hers when he opened the door for her at the hotel. It made her shudder, so she raised the glass and took another sip. Nicole had met many men in her time, but none of them had ever made her feel like this before she even knew who they really were. No man’s mere presence had ever moved her. She smiled, sinking her body further under the bubbles.

“What the fuck, Toots! What happened, mama?”
Toots fingers were curled around a bottle of Corona, her long nails touching each other. He could see that her shakiness had long since turned to anger. She had fucked up and in a big way.

“I’m sorry, Rich. We stopped at a red light and they stuck us. They had a fucking gun in my face, Rich. Then they just bounced.”
“Who’s they?”
Toots laid her head back on the sofa. Smash emerged from the bathroom, took one look at Rich and frowned. “My bad, Rich.”
Rich didn’t like the turn this was taking. He felt like Brad Pitt from Se7en. Jeez, Somerset, what’s in the box? He pulled his eyes together, folding his hands on the top of his head. “Who was it?”
Toots and Smash simultaneously said, “Stretch.”
Rich rolled his head back and flopped down on the couch next to Toots. He covered his eyes with a hand and thought hard, truly trying to grasp how pissed he was. Stretch was a common thief. He didn’t work for anything he owned. He stole it. He had gone to jail over it, killed over it and almost died over it, all more than once. Rich though the man was a klepto, for real. He had no hand in the drug game, but he was a problem for everyone who came past him with a trunk full of cash.
“Look, me and Smash lost it so me and Smash go get it.”
He shook his head. “It ain't that simple. Strech steal his mama teeth if he wanted to. And he kill you soon as you breath near that money. Anyway, he gone be expecting us to hit him up for the cash soon as possible. He ain't no dumb ass. I’ll handle it, alright? Damn,” he said, lifting off the couch. Toots swerved out of arms reach. He had hit her before, she wasn't unsure he'd do it again.

“I’ll hit ya’ll back in a day or so. Just lay low till then.”
When Rich got back to his apartment, he was heated. He’d lost thirty-two grand in an hour. He had half a good mind to stick his foot up Toots ass, for real. He could shit thirty grand but that wasn't the point. He was hoping to keep Stretch at bay for as long as possible. he didn't want a war, but if Stretch did, he would give him one.

2005 (c) Jacki Simmons
All rights reserved.


Post a Comment

<< Home

MusixZone Harlem: Diary of a Summer
Listen to this album
Listen : Jim Jones , Harlem: Diary of a Summer
Free Guestmap from Free Guestmap from

Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take and may this song play all the way, through. And if it skip a beat, hit repeat, this the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. If it skip a beat, hit repeat, This the realest shit I ever wrote, this is me. -Juelz Sanatana, This Is Me, What The Game's Been Missing