In Love with a Thug (8 page)

“You wanna talk?” He moved his head up and down. “About what? What happened yesterday?” He shook his head no. “Your family?” No clue. “Me?” Then it hit bingo. “What about me?” He gave me the face as to say,
it's obvious.
“Bryant?” He made the facial expression to say
I hit the nail on the head.

I began conversing with him using a notepad with me writing things down for him. The nurse came in once or twice to check on him and his vital signs. In between nursing checks I stepped out the room to give Bryant a call.

“Hey, Bry,” I greeted.

“J.J., wassup?”

“Nothing much, missing you.” I smiled. It seemed as if there was a lot of noise in the background. “Where are you?”

“I'm out chillin' with my shawty, you know, doin' what I do,” he said. “Yo, dat shit that you asked me for…,” he said, changing the subject.

“Yeah…”

“I'ma need about three G's to get it for you, aiight. Do you have that?”

“Yeah, I have to go to the bank and get it,” I responded.

“Aiight, you do that and I'ma get at you lata, aiight?”

“Alright, Bryant, but who…” I tried to get out my sentence but before I could the line went dead. I know I needed to pace myself because I was jumping the gun.
Maybe he's just talkin' bout an old friend. I know he's not out with another girl because he wouldn't do that shit to me. Well, what I'll do is calm down and go back in the room and tend to Anthony. He needs my help right now and I'm not gonna worry about no bullshit until later.

During lunch I'll run over to the bank and get the money he needs,
I thought.
Then we're gonna have a lovely time tonight, just me and him getting' our freak on. I'll sit back and let him do what he does to make me comfortable, like he did last night. Man, if it only takes three G's for him to make me feel like he did last night, it is well worth it.

T
he room was dark as I lay in the middle of the bed as the room spun. The tears in my eyes rolled down my cheeks as I thought about my younger years. The beatings, the scalding, and the molestation.
Does my father have any idea of the trauma he put me through?
I loved him, I trusted him.
How could he do this to me? How could God allow this to happen to me?
I was always a good boy growing up. I always got good grades in school.
What in the hell was wrong with me?

I got up and walked into the kitchen for a drink to calm me down. I decided not to get a glass to be classy; instead I went straight for the bottle. Tanqueray straight, that's what I was in the mood for. I went back into the bathroom with swollen eyes and looked into the mirror.

“A poor excuse for a man,” I said to myself as the tears mixed with my snot ran down my face. I banged my fist on the wall.
How did I end up like this? How did I end up like this?
I took another swig of the bottle, then raced into the bedroom to get the cordless phone from its base. The clock read one-thirty and Bryant was not here yet. He met me at four o' clock to get my money and the bastard wasn't here.
I'm tired of calling him; he's not gonna answer his cell phone.
I quickly thought of Rob's phone number and dialed it.

“Hello,” Rob answered, sounding asleep.

“Yeah, Rob, hey it's me, Juan,” I said, trying not to sound like I'd been crying.

“Yeah, Juan, what's up?”

“I need the phone number to your boy, you know the one that you be getting your shit from. I need his number,” I said quietly. I began sniffing continuously.

“Juan, are you okay? It's like one something in the morning. Aren't you coming to work tomorrow?”

“Ah, yeah, I'm coming to work but I need something to calm me down real quick. I need to get me a dime bag real quick,” I lied. Not only was I lying about a dime bag but also I knew that it looked stranger because I didn't smoke.

“Juan, I know you're not getting this for yourself. You don't smoke,” he growled in an angry tone.

“Please, Rob, I am twenty-seven years old. I'm not a baby and I don't need anyone telling me what I do and don't do. Just stay out of my business, please. Now are you gonna give me his number or not?” I was getting annoyed. He sucked his teeth as we sat in silence.

“Alright, girl, you got a pen?” he asked. I quickly grabbed my cell phone.

“Go 'head,” I demanded. I rapidly keyed the telephone number into my phone.

“Got it, I'll talk to you later. Smooches,” I said before the line went dead. I took another sip from the bottle followed by a hard swallow that burned the hell out of my throat. I felt the warmness in my chest and tried to gain composure without falling onto the bed. I dialed the number that Rob had given me.

“Yo,” said someone on the other end of the phone.
Fuuccckk, I didn't even ask Rob his name.
I needed to think quickly and safely.

“Ayo, where da weed at?” I said, changing into my boy's voice.

“Who dis?” he asked. I closed my eyes hoping that I wasn't making a fool of myself. “Who dis?” he asked again.

“Yeah, dis J, from Southwest, where that weed at?” I was feeling the vibe from him. My buzz had already begun and I felt
good
. “My boy Rob put me on to you. Yo, I'm tryna be down.”

“Aiight, shawty, I feel you. Check it. Come check me out in about twenty minutes down at Twenty-seventh and Snyder Avenue.”

“Aiight, cool. You got me? You gon' look out?”

“Yeah, come check me out, kid.”

“Aiight, I'll be there, aiight.”

“Aiight, one.”

I closed my cell phone and ran into the bathroom to dry my face. I looked at myself in the mirror for the last time before running into the bedroom to throw on some clothes.

Stephanie Mills filled the midnight air when I reached the George Platt Memorial Bridge. I sped through Broad Street cutting over to Snyder. Then I slowed down, watching the different hustlers stand on the corners through the darkness. The fiends were out shopping for their next hits as well. I approached a red light when I saw someone standing in front of a closed McDonald's. I pulled over to the side of the curb, wondering if it were wise for me to walk the streets asking for drugs.

I reached for my cell phone, then stepped out the car enabling the alarm.

“Yo, you got that hot shit?” I asked the dude that stood in front of the McDonald's.

“Naw,” he stated, shrugging his shoulders. As the air became brisk I continued to walk the dark and lonely streets until I got Twenty-seventh Street where I would meet Rob's connect for sure. About five guys were posted up on the corner standing on the wall of what seemed to be an old barbershop. I put on my George Jefferson stroll as I started to walk past them. A whiff of weed filled my nostrils as I strutted my stuff.

“You lookin' for something, homie?” asked a dark-skinned guy stepping away from the wall. As I stopped, my heart began racing.

“Yeah, dawg, I'm lookin' for dat
good
shit.” I backed up to where he stood.

“Damn, I'm sayin' how much you tryna spend?” The other guys along the wall just looked.

“I got about two bills on me.”

“Aiight, hold up a minute.” He walked back over to the dudes who stood posted on the wall. All of them went into their pockets and gave the dark-skinned guy a few dice-shaped objects wrapped in saran wrap.

“Aiight, shawty, here you go but check it, my shit don't equal up to two bills but here's what I'ma do for you. I'ma throw in a couple shots of ‘E,' aiight?” I went into my pocket to get my money before he placed everything into my palm.

“E?” I asked with a puzzled look on my face. He looked back at his homies, then at me.

“Yeah, ‘E,' Ecstasy,” he said, now talking with his hands. I still stood there with a look of doubt. I'd heard of the drug Ecstasy and had seen people take it but I'd never actually used it myself. Anthony used to take this shit all the time.

“Okay, cool,” I said, taking the drugs and walking away. Anthony used Ecstasy but I guess it was now my turn to try something new.

After a visit to 7-Eleven for a few Dutches I made a stampede into my apartment. First and foremost I downed two E pills and replaced them with a mist of the
Angel
weed.

I lay in the bed watching an old episode of
Three's Company
where Terri was moving into the crib after she'd stuck that bigass needle into Jack's ass. I always thought that she was the best looking out of the three blondes anyway. Those “E” pills had me feelin' it. My dick was rock-hard and this shit on TV was funny as hell. It was almost four in the morning and I was on my second blunt. I laced it tight, the way Bryant had laced it for me the other night. I got up and walked over to the mirror to admire my beautiful face and body.

For some strange reason my dick would not go down. I remembered the sexy-ass porn tapes I kept under my bed that sure were about to get put to use. I found the one that I liked. Tiger Tyson's fine ass was on the front. A nice Puerto Rican flick was what I needed. I popped the DVD into the player, sat down at the foot of the bed and released my monster from my boxer briefs. I hadn't given myself sex pleasure in a while and from the way these pills made me feel, this time would be very exciting.

I squirted some baby oil in the palms of my hands and thoroughly licked my lips. Tiger Tyson was banging the shit out of some dude's back. I began stroking my manhood back and forth and started to fondle my nipples. I reached over to grab the blunt and took another pull before my explosion. The faster Tiger pumped, the faster I jerked my dude. He was about to bust as I jerked faster and before Tiger had the chance to take off his condom, all the blood had rushed to the head of my penis and exploded onto my stomach.

My body fell back in the middle of the bed where I lay to watch the rest of the video. Before I knew it the DVD was watching me.

 

It was a quarter past twelve when I entered the salon. The music was pumping extremely loud and it seemed as if everyone including the customers had on loud colors. I said my “hellos” to the stylists and about twelve women sitting, waiting for their turn. I walked straight back into my office and closed the door. I sat down in my chair and threw my head down on the desk. I was alone for about five minutes before a knock came at the door.

“Who is it?” I growled, lifting my heavy head from the desk.

“Hmm, can I come in”? Rob said on the other side of the door.

“Come in,” I responded, rolling my eyes up in my head.

“Girl, are you okay? You look like shit,” he said, coming in and closing the door behind him. He came over and sat down in one of the red chairs at my desk.

“Gee, thanks,” I spat sarcastically. “Can I help you with something?”

“Girl, I was just coming to see how you were doing.”

“Don't you have a client in your chair?”

“Actually, I'm done with my client's hair. I also had to
wash
my client's hair too. What's happened to the so-called shampoo girl you hired? She hasn't been here in days.” He was now giving me attitude.

“Look, Rob, for number one, I am the boss and you're the employee so calm your voice. For number two, thanks for checking up on me; and for number three, I don't keep tabs on Ieshia. I don't know where she is,” I said, putting my arms in the air.

“Well, I'm sorry. Did you ever get in touch with Tony last night?”

“No, I never went to see Tony. I made me a cup of hot tea and went to bed,” I lied, putting my head down and closing my eyes.

“Okay, well, I need to ask you for something,” he said, getting up from his chair. I lifted my head to him and moved my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ears.

“What? What's wrong?”

“You made me the manager of Ché Mystic, so I feel like it is in this company's best interest if I make an educated decision,” he stated, firmly standing in the back of the chair and pronouncing his words forcefully. I cuffed my hands on top of my desk.

“Okay, Rob, what is this ‘educated decision' that
you
must make?”

“I think we need to let Jeff go.”

“What do you mean we ‘need to let Jeff go?' You're only saying that because you don't like him,” I spat, coming to Jeff's defense.

“No, Juan, he's stealing,”

“Stealing what?”

“Supplies.”

“Supplies, from me? How do
you
know?” I leaned back in my chair, waiting for his response.

“Well, you said yourself that once we take a job in your shop we cannot do hair on the side, am I correct?” I cuffed my hands over my belly, placing my elbows on the arms of the chair.

“Yes, you're correct.” I nodded.

“Well, Kya and I have been witnessing him stealing
your
supplies at night, and he takes them home to use when doing hair at home.”

I sat and thought about it for a minute before someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” I yelled to whoever stood on the other side.

“Juan, it's Jeff.”

Rob's nostrils flared.

“Can I help you with something, Jeff?”

“Yes, you have a client out here waiting for you.” I motioned for Rob to open the door. There stood Jeff with his hair coming down underneath a net hat. He was wearing a wife beater, capris, and a pair of dirty black-and-white Converses showing off his ashy ankles without socks. Once the door was opened he glanced at Rob and gave him a dirty sneer and then looked to me.

“Juan, you have a client that's out here waiting for you,” he said, fingering behind him to the young girl. The girl made her appearance known by sporting a pair of black ruffled capri pants and a tight wife beater showing off her pregnant belly and a pair of State Property Keds. Her hair was pulled back Boned Snatch. And she wore a pair of dark shades.

“Yes,” I spoke up, letting Jeff get back to his client. The girl walked forward looking a little old for her age. Her voice was very settled yet young-girlish.

“Yes, I had an appointment with you for today.”

“Okay, I'll be out in a minute,” I said as she turned and made her way back to the shop. Rob closed the door behind her.

“So, can I fire the bitch or what?” said Rob, letting the door slam. I got up from my seat and walked over to the mirror that hung next to the painting of Oprah Winfrey. I placed my hair in a ponytail.

“No, I'll do it. First, let me check into it and I'll let you know,” I said, walking past him, opening the door and heading out onto the floor.