The Blackbirds (13 page)

Tingles from her orgasm subsiding, Destiny caught her breath.

Music by Kendrick Lamar jammed from the living room but wasn't louder than the unrighteous copulating on the other side of the door. Eddie and Nancy had outlasted her and Hakeem. They always did, and Destiny was very aroused, was only getting warmed up.

Destiny pulled her locks away from her neck. Leg trembling, she heard Nancy moan like she was coming over and over. She sounded like she was in the next room losing her mind. Destiny took a frustrated breath, flared her nostrils, and opened her envious eyes.

She said, “Hakeem, wake up.”

He shifted, rubbed her bottom, and yawned. “I'm awake, Kismet. Barely awake.”

Her voice was rusty, like a Blues singer. His was postorgasmic, in his refractory stage. Her stage was the opposite. She had had an orgasm but she needed the healing to continue in order to be effective.

But she knew Hakeem's rhythm, knew it would be a while before he could go again.

She had to keep him awake, because once he slept, the fun was done.

She whispered, “Hakeem, baby, you were really hard that time.”

“Yeah. I was a brick.”

“You put it down. That round was profound. You were deeper than Dostoyevsky.”

“Dostoyevsky? Did I just get literary on you?”

“What was it to you?”

“I was a beast like a Klingon. I felt like I was Dr. Spock going through pon farr.”

“You found an angle and it was a crime the way you gave me that sweet punishment.”

She hoped there would be a sequel, maybe a trilogy before the night was over.

It sounded like Eddie was putting down a miniseries. Two seasons. Dramatic moans and whimpers came from the other side of the door, mixed in with Kendrick Lamar jamming “King Kunta” on repeat, the tenth time she'd heard that song since she was in bed with Hakeem.

Destiny's clothing rested on an armless chair near the foot of the bed.

She glanced at her jeans and biker's gear.
DO UNTO OTHERS
stared at her.

Here she was not Destiny. Here she was Kismet Kellogg.

Here was where she felt guilt because here she told her greatest lie.

She wouldn't want Hakeem to lie to her about who he was.

“King Kunta” ended, then started again.

Destiny asked Hakeem, “What does a mechanical engineer at Northrup do, exactly?”

“I research, design, develop, manufacture, and test tools, engines, machines, and other mechanical devices. I'm in one of the broadest engineering disciplines. It's cool for right now.”

“May I ask you another serious question?”

“Sure, Kismet.”

“You always flirt and kiss girls at clubs, then engineer your way into a sister's pants, and manufacture orgasms by eating out said girl the first time you hook up? That's your MO?”

He yawned. “How did I end up getting lucky enough to be with you, Kismet?”

She grinned. “You caught my eye. You caught my eye and my guard went down.”

“I walked in the place, and you stood out. My eyes went right to you. Your locks. That tight T-shirt. Tight jeans and heels, confident and dancing by yourself like the music had taken you to another place, another time, another universe.”

“And you walked over and asked me if I wanted to ride your Big Wheel.”

“You laughed. And when you smiled, damn, your smile was so damn sexy.”

“Making a woman laugh is like a flame to ice. Makes an ice queen melt.”

“Had never seen a woman with a smile as nice as yours.”

“You seemed surprised when we started talking.”

“You're artistic and eloquent. You don't seem like a girl who would be so smart.”

“Thanks. I think. Assumed stupid until proven intelligent is every black woman's crime.”

“That's not what I meant.”

“It's cool. I'm used to being taken for granted based on epidermis, race, and gender.”

“What I meant to say is that you're amazing. You just look so free-spirited, and you know a lot of the free-spirited aren't really motivated to do much. I'm not good with words like you are.”

“Erykah Badu was the deejay.”

“You were standing over to the side jamming your ass off, moving like Missy Elliott.”

“That was my return to hip-hop that night. Badu pulled me back in, had me fired up.”

“You had given it up?”

“I used to love hip-hop and wanted to be a singing rapper so I could pen rebellious songs and get on stage, be like Nina Simone singing ‘Mississippi Goddam' and ‘Strange Fruit.'”

“Really?”

“I fell in love with rap and hip-hop and wanted to run away with both of them.”

“Hip-hop and rap. You say that like you're talking about two dudes.”

“Not fun loving someone who has no love for you. That's a reformatory in and of itself.”

“What do you mean?”

“One night it showed me its true face, its real feelings, and betrayed
me. I snuck away from home. I went to a private affair to partake in hip-hop and rap one night. Took it my young soul. And it laughed behind my back and deceived me. It smiled in my face and did me wrong. It's left a damaged nerve. An open wound across a chasm no sutures can close. But I went to see Badu, let her be my doctor, let her help me get my love for the music back in my blood.”

“What happened in your life that made rap and hip-hop seem that bad?”

“I thought that I was finding my true self. I went to become one with rap and hip-hop, only to find out they were just as fake. It was a bunch of crabs in the barrel and backstabbing assholes. Women were two-faced, betrayed women, and the men were just as bad.”

“What happened, Kismet?”

She almost told him.

She almost stopped being Kismet and became her true self, the infamous Destiny Jones.

Then the music stopped playing.

Without “King Kunta” jamming, Destiny heard Nancy and Eddie moaning and groaning in the next room, the sounds extreme, like a break-in and a murder were in progress.

Hakeem said, “Eddie and Nancy are going at it hard again.”

“They never stop.”

“That's their thing.”

“Do they ever do anything else, like have a conversation, or play a board game?”

“Nope.”

“What did you say her parents do?”

“Her mother is an archeologist; her father is a bigwig at Jet Propulsion Laboratory.”

“All that intelligence, so much potential, and she's attracted to Eddie?”

Hakeem closed his eyes. Destiny channel-surfed until she found a rerun of
The Big Bang Theory
, then turned up the volume, but it didn't compete with the reality of the big banging Eddie was giving Nancy. Aroused, shivers went up and down Destiny's spine.

Destiny growled, sat up, cursed toward the door. “They are killing each other in there.”

“She needs another pillow over her head.”

“That or a plastic bag.”

“Damn, she gets loud.”

Destiny asked, “Why is Eddie saying ‘chug, chug, chug'?”

“He's about to finish and that means for her to get ready to swallow.”

The sexual sounds in the front of the condo wound down, moans and catlike whines, calls to God and Jesus and requests to have it given to her harder, harder, harder, stopped.

Destiny turned the volume back down, whispered, “Wow. That sounded so ridiculous.”

“So, are you mad or jealous?”

“I want us to be alone.”

“You're mad.”

“All I want to hear is our sounds and this bed rocking.”

“And you're jealous.”

“Of what? Of not being able to be with my man and walk around his house naked?”

“Of Nancy and how she's so freaky and uninhibited.”

“I don't care what she does.”

“Eddie says she loves the hell out of anal.”

“Are you gay?”

“Of course not.”

“Then stop asking if you can do me in my booty. When I want backdoor sex, when it interests me, you will be informed. And I was joking about the gay thing, so don't get an attitude, okay?”

“For my birthday at least? Let me take a peek in the basement for my birthday.”

“You plan on making a salad?”

“I just might toss one, if that's what it takes to loosen it up and get you ready.”

She laughed. “In that case, let me think about it. Never had my salad tossed.”

“Really? We need to add that to the list.”

“That intrigues me. You'd do that?”

“For you I would, if you're fresh out of the shower and don't stop to potty.”

“Maybe we should do the whole thing in the shower.”

“Just the tip. Just the tip of the tip. Just the tippity tip of the tip.”

She laughed harder. “Will you stop it?”

She leaned over and kissed him for few seconds.

She wanted more stage time, like Eddie gave Nancy.

More stage time might inspire other orifices to open.

Maybe.

She wasn't sure.

She had a flashback. Hoosegow. Getting her salad tossed for the first time.

Destiny put the television on mute.

The condo was quiet now. No Kendrick Lamar. No Nancy wailing like she was both in heaven and in hell. No Eddie grunting like he was a Neanderthal about to bust a big fat nut.

Destiny went to the door, cracked it open, and felt a rush of the heat Eddie and Nancy had created. Their kinetic energy had raised the temperature at least fifteen degrees. Destiny peeped out only to find Eddie and Nancy weren't done. They were next to the sofa bed, on the floor. Eddie was on his back, pillow underneath his head, feet planted on the carpet with his knees bent. Nancy was on top of Eddie, on her back, her head resting on his bent knees, her back against Eddie's six-pack, legs wide, her sex presented to his face for oral stimulation and gratification. Nancy was biting a pillow to muffle the sounds from receiving superstar oral sex. Her body was rejoicing. Nancy was all of five feet tall. Legs like a soccer player. Full breasts. Her face was sheened in sweat, and her blonde-and-purple hair was unruly, had a just-sexed-into-a-frenzy wildness. Nancy sat up, held on to the edge of the sofa to balance her body, and continued to bless Eddie's face with her sex. She was still chewing the pillow, huffing and puffing as she came. Eddie held her hips, pulled her, gave her tongue, made her grind on his face, on his tongue, on his chin, on anything hard, and she was mutilating the pillow to muffle her orgasmic cries. That girl was on fire, desperate to set free the orgasm
that controlled her. Destiny had seen that in Hoosegow many times, only with two girls. Nancy fell away, panting. Eddie crawled to her, put his cock in her mouth. They were winding down. Either Eddie had never come, or he was ready to come again before he quit. He came and made Nancy come again. Eddie looked toward the bedroom. Destiny made eye contact with him.

Eddie smiled at Destiny's nakedness, nodded with approval of what he saw as he slid his cock in and out of Nancy's mouth, as he tested her gag reflex with his half-hard appendage.

Destiny closed the door, again tingling, her clit throbbing, and went back to the bed.

Destiny squirmed, wanted her nipples sucked. Wanted a tongue inside her.

She heard Eddie. Nancy was sucking him and driving him crazy.

Destiny nudged Hakeem. He didn't respond. She touched herself for a moment.

She touched herself and made her pussy hum, made herself come imagining Hakeem was eating her out the way Eddie had eaten out Nancy, in that superstar sex position.

Destiny sipped the last drops of her bottled water, waited ten more minutes, gave Eddie and Nancy time to get cleaned up and cuddled up. Destiny pulled on Hakeem's yellow Reverse-Flash T-shirt, left the bedroom, and tiptoed through the wafting scent of cologne, perfume, and orgasm. The condo was one keg away from smelling like a two-man frat house.

Nancy and Eddie were nude, cuddled up on the sofa bed in the living room.

Nancy's pink overnight bag was at the foot of the sofa.

She brought her bag only when she planned to spend the night, which meant she had lied to her parents and told them she was staying at one of her girlfriends' houses tonight.

Nancy and Eddie were over so much Hakeem should charge them rent.

That was Nancy's routine, pack her pink bag, cook Eddie a four-course meal, have sex like sex was going out of style, then leave L.A. and
speed back to her Orange County life after a night of debauchery. Nancy and Eddie were in the living room because the second bedroom was an office. Still Destiny wished they would at least buy an air mattress, or just go rent a room at the Snooty Fox or Deano's Motel. Both seemed like places where degenerates went to be degenerates with other degenerates. But Eddie and Nancy were Hakeem's friends. They had been grandfathered into Destiny's relationship with Hakeem. They had been there first.

Nancy raised her head and said, “Hey, Kismet.”

Destiny did a curt wave. “Pardon the intrusion. Going to get water. Want some?”

“I'm so dehydrated and too weak to move. Thanks.”

“Eddie, you want water too? You should be thirsty. Sounded like a donnybrook out here.”

He didn't respond, but the anaconda bobbed twice, which Destiny took to mean no. Destiny went to the kitchen, tasted the baked chicken Nancy had cooked. It was delicious. Same for the herbed bulgur, lentil salad, and steamed veggies. Destiny ate a little protein, then grabbed two bottles of water, handed Nancy one.

Nancy opened hers, took several desperate gulps, wiped her mouth, burped, then said, “Kismet, I searched for your mother all day yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“A family friend needs a good attorney and I looked up Henrietta Kellogg online, but couldn't find her. I put her name in Google, searched Facebook, and looked for her on LinkedIn. Henrietta Kellogg. That's what you said your mother's name is, right? Can you give me her info?”