The California Saga (6 page)

 

 

I answered the phone on the final ring, in an attempt not to seem too anxious. “Hello?”

“What's up?” Jewel sang from the other end.

“Nothing much. What's up witchu?” I remembered how drunk she was the previous night. “You feeling all right?”

“Yeah, I'm good. I may have had a slight hangover when I woke up, but I had so much drama this morning, I wouldn't have even noticed,” she said, sounding a bit agitated.

I sensed her stress. “Damn! Sounds like you need to do something nice for the rest of the day to make you forget about your morning.”

Jewel jumped at the opportunity. “Any suggestions?”

“Well, I was going to the outlet to grab a few things. You want to roll?”

“Potomac Mills?” she asked. Her response let me know off the top what type of spending she was interested in. “Nah, Williamsburg.”

“Calico, there aren't any really good stores there. Have you even tried Potomac Mills?”

“Nah,” I said, playing stupid. “Where is it?”

“Up I-95 North, like you going toward DC.”

“That's too far, baby. I'm just trying to shoot there and shoot back.”

Jewel realized she was fighting a losing battle and finally gave in. She gave me her address, and I agreed to pick her up at two o'clock, which gave me time to take care of a few things before we left.

“Hello?” Jewel answered in a sultry tone.

“I'm out front,” I replied, Shawty Lo's “Dey Know” blasting in the background.

“I'm coming out now.”

I watched as Jewel walked toward the car. Her lips seemed extra lip-gloss shiny. She was sexy as hell, dressed in a white stretched tank top that accented her perky breasts, and matching white jeans that were so tight, if she bent over, I could see the print of her pussy lips.

“Hey, Miss Lady.” I greeted her with a hug.
Damn, your ass is phat!
I thought as she sat her perfectly round ass down on the black leather passenger seat of my black drop-top. My dick was getting hard by the minute.

I looked at Jewel's full lips again and started to imagine myself getting my dick sucked, riding down the interstate with the music blasting. I looked her up from head to toe one last time, while pretending to look for a CD.

My peep show was interrupted by her yell and look of disgust. “CD's? Are you serious?”

Confused, I asked, “What? You want to listen to the radio or something?”

“No, boo. iPod,” she replied with that same sassiness she was giving me last night.

“Oh, I forgot who I was dealing with. Sorry, Miss Prima Donna. I don't have an iPod,” I said as I inserted Jay-Z.

“Well, the next time we meet, please have one. So are we still going to the Williamsburg Outlets?” She asked as though I'd changed my mind or something.

“Yeah, I wish we could go further, but I have some business to take care of later on tonight,” I said, a mischievous grin on my face as I checked out her smile.

“All right, what's so funny?”

“Nothing. I'm feeling the wife-beater on you. That's real gangster for a diva like you. All you need is a fresh pair of Air Force One's to match.” I took another look at her.

“For the record, fresh white Prada's, not Nike's. And thank you for the compliment, but honestly, I think I look a little fat.” Jewel grinned back at me.

“What? You're crazy.” I took this as an opportunity to look her over quickly. “You have a killer frame.”

“No, honey. I have one of those borderline frames. I'm one Slim-Fast away from Beyoncé, and one burger away from
America's Next Top Model
contestant, Toc-cara.”

We both laughed.

“Look, let me tell you something about skinny chicks. Don't no man want a skinny chick. For one, no one knows how she got that way. The bitch could be sick. The way I see it, give me a fat bitch. At least I know she healthy,” I said.

We both laughed uncontrollably.

“You enjoy yourself at the bar last night?” I asked, changing the subject as we headed toward 64 West.

“Yes, I did, but I don't do the whole bar scene too often.”

“I know.” I nodded at her.

“How so?”

“Well, it was one of the first things I noticed.

I meet Touch at that spot all the time, and last night was the first time I'd seen you. If you hung out at the bars often, I'm sure I would have seen you there before.”

“Yeah, clubs, bars, and lounges aren't really my thing. All it consists of is guys wishing they could get a second to talk to you, and the girls, you know how that goes, they wish they could get a second to talk to a nice guy. But when he doesn't want to holler at her, she will hate all night on the chick that can accomplish what she can't.”

“Well, I will let you know right now that I've never been turned down,” I said with plenty of confidence.

“Neither have I.”

We both gave each other a smirk.

Just then, Sean Kingston's “Beautiful Girls” started playing on the radio, and Jewel started singing to the lyrics.

She sang like the song was talking about her specifically.

I gave Jewel a playful shove in the head. “You ain't gon' have nobody suicidal.”

“Whatever. We'll see about that.” She rolled her eyes and neck in unison then said to me, “Tell me about yourself.”

“It's not much to tell. My name is Calico, and I'm from Los Angeles, California. My pops was a drug dealer-turned entrepreneur. He had a hot li'l jewelry spot in LA back in the day, but when we had those riots back in ninety-two, he lost everything. For the first time, my father couldn't provide for his family. He tried everything to get back on his feet. Everything, except going to back to the dope game. He'd promised my mother that once he was out, he would never go back to it. Eventually my father could no longer take the pressure of not being able to provide for his family, so he drank himself to death, and my mother slowly but surely picked up the pieces.

“Seeing my mom struggle as a kid really fucked me up, so I decided I was going to be the man of the house. I automatically had respect on the streets because of my father's street cred. After some good deals came through that put real money in my pocket, I stepped up to the plate and took care of the house. Still, my mother has never been the same. I can't tell you the last time I've seen her truly happy.”

“Any brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah, I have an older brother and sister. I'm the baby. I will let you know now, I'm a serious momma's boy. Whatever momma wants, that woman gets.”

“Of course, I understand. So you and Touch are good friends?”

I felt like I was under interrogation as Jewel came at me with question after question. “We're more like business partners, splitting the profits right down the middle.” I then turned the tables on her. “What do you do?”

“Right now, I'm a ghostwriter full-time. Yesterday, I was a medical biller and coder. Tomorrow, I'll be the girl of your dreams, and soon after that, I'll be running that part of the business you have with Touch,” Jewel said without a doubt.

I grinned. “Damn! You got big dreams, shorty.” I knew there was no way in hell she could ever reach any of those dreams she had set for tomorrow and thereafter.

Jewel looked me directly in my eyes and gave me a seductive look. “It's not a dream, baby.” She paused and gently caressed my chin. “It's very, very real.” She ended the statement with a kiss into the air.

I took a swallow in an attempt to break the trance she had just put me in. She watched and gave a slight smile, as though she knew what I was thinking.

“So”—my voice cracked, making me clear my throat—“do you make a lot of money ghostwriting?”

“Yes, you can. It depends on who you write for, and how many jobs you get. The job can be tiring at times, but I enjoy it.”

“Is it hard?” I asked, really intrigued by her profession.

“Not really, but I feel as if my job is never complete. I'm only as good as the last song that I wrote.”

“So why not just be a rapper? I thought everybody wanted to be a rapper.”

“Yeah, when they're like thirteen. Rapping is not for me. I could never get on stage and perform like that. I'm more of a behind-the-scenes type of chick. I'm good without the fame. I already got my share of it. All I want is my check, you feel me?” Jewel chuckled.

“I heard that. You already got your fame, huh? A'ight, Miss Local Celebrity.” I laughed.

Jewel snapped back, “No, baby. I'm a star wherever I go.”

“Damn, girl. One thing about you that I'm gonna have to get used to is that mouth.” I shook my head, wondering if it was really possible for me to get used to it.

“That's me. You have to accept everything about me, smart mouth and all. Take it or leave it. I put it all out there straight, no chaser. Now it's up to you to decide what you want.”

“I'll take it.” I laughed, knowing I could break her little ass down to Reese's Pieces in a matter of days.

Jewel joined in on my laughter. “I know.”

Time passed by quickly as we talked and laughed together, and before I knew it, we were at the Williamsburg Outlet. I parked and opened the door for Jewel.

“What store do you want to start at first?” she asked.

“Lead the way. I'm with you,” I replied with a smile that consisted of a upper blue and white diamond grill.

I followed Jewel as she headed to our first stop, the BCBG store. Next, we hit Michael Kors. Then we hit a few stores for me, like the Timberland store, Cole Haan, Izod, Nike Factory, and Vans. After that, we were back to Jewel's picks, Guess, Coach, Perfume World, and Sunglass World. Knowing that Jewel was watching my every move, I didn't complain the entire time. I never even lifted an eyebrow, no matter how much her total ran up to.

“Before we leave, I want to hit Gymboree and Nautica,” Jewel requested.

“Gymboree? Isn't that a kids' store?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I didn't know you had kids,” I stated.

“I don't.”

With a puzzled look on my face, I began to wonder if Jewel was straight trying to play me for a sucker. I watched as she picked up little girls' clothing, two of each. My first reaction was to cuss her ass out, but I chose to roll with it. I figured at least I could get a fuck out of it, if nothing else. I prepared to pay as we reached the counter.

“Thank you for your generosity, but I got this one.”

Jewel's response surprised me. “So who's it for?” I asked out of curiosity.

“Touch's twin girls.”

“Oh yeah? Y'all tight like that?”

“Yep! Tighter than these jeans I have on.” Jewel laughed.

As I watched her ass bounce with each step, I thought,
Damn! And my nigga ain't never tried to fuck that?

“I want cookies and cream on a waffle cone,” she said like a kid at the ice cream truck as we passed Ben & Jerry's.

“Come on, baby, I know you don't want that junk. I'm in the mood for steak.” I looked at my watch.

“Okay,” she quickly agreed. “Steak is better than ice cream on any day.”

“Unless that day happens to be the day you get your tonsils taken out.” We both laughed.

“So, are we eating here or back near the beach?” Jewel asked as we loaded the bags into the trunk of the car.

“It's up to you.”

“Ummm, the beach. I don't know much about this area, except the outlet stores.”

“Okay.” I took her right hand and kissed it. “Well, let's go get lady Jewel her filet mignon.”

 

 

I spotted my homeboy Calico as soon as I walked through the door of Mo Dean's Jamaican Restaurant and Lounge. “What up, ace.”

“What up, fool.” He gave me a hardy pound and pat on the back. “Yo, I'ma tell you right now, your fucking baby momma in here, nigga, so put the brakes on.”

“I ain't worryin' about her, man,” I said, quickly glancing around the bar. It didn't take long for me to spot her. She sat at a booth on the other side of the place with her partner in crime, Monica, and a couple of their ghetto-fabulous girlfriends. I contemplated on whether or not I should just blow the joint. Knowing her ghetto ass, at first sight of me, she would want to make a scene, and I wasn't the one for drama. Still, I wasn't going to be intimidated by her, nor was I going to let her keep me from getting my drink on.

I grabbed a stool and sat in the corner, out of their sight. The cute waitress with a phat ass wasted no time coming my way. “What can I get for you, Touch?”

I imagined bending her over and pounding that ass from the back. “A back shot,” I said.

“Whatever, nigga! I'll be right back with your Grey Goose on the rocks,” she said then walked off, her booty bouncing each step of the way.

For some reason I felt like she put an extra bounce in there just for me. She knew I would be looking as soon as she walked off. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I took a few pulls.
Damn,
I thought to myself,
I even have to take a smoke to mentally fuck this bitch. That shit is crazy.

When the waitress came back with my drink, I told her, “Thank you, baby. I got you,” letting her know I'd take care of my tab at the end of the night.

“Don't be trying to run out on me,” she said playfully. “You know I'm supposed to hold your credit card.”

“Come on, sweetheart.”

It was a damn shame that I'd been going to that lounge nearly six months and this same waitress had always been there, but I didn't know her name. Me and the niggas always referred to her as the cute waitress with the phat ass.

“How you gon' play me like that? What's your name, ma?”

“Diana,” she said, looking straight in my eyes.

“Okay, Diana, you win. I'll pay for my drinks as we go.” I pulled out a twenty to pay for my drink.

“That's okay,” she said, finally seeing shit my way. She pushed my hand away. “I'll see you at the end of the night.”

Like with every first drink, I threw that shit down my throat in just a couple of swallows, and as soon as my empty glass hit the table, Diana was there.

“Ready for another one?”

“Yeah. Make this one a double shot,” I requested.

“A'ight. I'll be right back.”

Calico came over and grabbed a seat next to me. “You good, nigga?”

“Yeah, I'm straight.”

“Gotdamn, nigga, you gon' make your baby momma force you to stay in the gotdamn corner all night?”

“Hell nah. She ain't forcing me to stay nowhere. I'm chilling, nigga. After a few drinks I'm out anyway.”

“So how shit looking?” Calico wanted to know how quickly the coke he'd given me the day before was moving.

I told him, “Shit right, nigga. Cats loving this white girl. She different from the last one you gave me.”

“A'ight. So when we talking?” Calico asked, referring to the one hundred fifty grand I owed him.

“In a few days I should be straight.”

“Here you go,” Diana said, interrupting our conversation. She winked an eye at Calico.

I noticed the double shot of Grey Goose on the rocks plus two shot glasses filled with liquor. “What's this?” I asked.

“Patrón. Let's take a shot together. It's on me.”

I tried declining the drink the best way I knew how. “I don't do Patrón, ma.”

Calico shook his head from side to side. “Man, go ahead and take the shot, nigga.”

I thought back to the last time I had Patrón. I woke up on the steps of my mom's front porch, and my car was parked in the middle of her front yard. Patrón was definitely not my thing, and Calico knew it. I had to wonder if he was trying to set me up.

Diana folded her arms and gave me a slight pout. “Oh, so you gonna disappoint me like that?”

Calico said to Diana, “Give that man some motivation. A nigga ain't trying to take risks for nothing.” Then he cut his eyes at me to take it from there. He'd set up the bait; now I just needed to catch the fish and reel her in.

I really never needed help bagging a girl, but Calico thought he would lend a hand. I figured

since he had gone through all this trouble, I would at least play along and take the drink, so I played into the setup.

“I'm saying, if I get sick from this shit, who gon' take care of a nigga?”

Diana smiled. “I'll take full responsibility.”

“Let's do it,” I said, feeling Diana was down for whatever.

We tapped glasses and downed the drinks.

“Damn!” The liquor felt like it was burning a path down my throat to my chest. I grabbed my Grey Goose and drank it as a chaser.

As I sipped my vodka, I looked over at Diana, who was whispering in Calico's ear. He didn't seem to be fazed by the tequila shot at all.

Diana diverted her attention back to me, while twirling the end of the braid of my cornrow between her fingers. “You okay, sweetie?”

“I could be better,” I responded to her subtle flirtation.

“Well, can I help?” Diana licked her lips.

I grinned then glanced at Calico to see if he was picking up on the same vibes I was getting from her. He cut a small grin back as an indication that he was. Now that I knew this shit was real and it wasn't just the liquor talking, I fed right into the game she was playing.

“Yeah, but I'ma need you to come with me to do that.” I came on strong, to see if this bitch was really with it and not just talking shit, but she said exactly what I wanted to hear.

“A'ight. I get off in a couple of hours. Hang out and we can leave together.”

As Diana walked away, Calico said, “Damn, Touch! It's like that, nigga?”

“It is what it is, baby.”

We both laughed as I pulled out another cigarette.

I stood up to head to the bathroom and stumbled a bit on my first step.
That Patrón must really be getting to me
, I thought as I passed the booth that my baby mother and her girls sat at. I didn't even look in her direction as I went through the double doors leading to the bathrooms.

Before I could hang a left and go into the men's bathroom, I was stopped by a familiar five-foot-five frame. I didn't say a word as I looked at her voluptuous breasts. My mind was too busy thinking about how nicely my dick would fit between them. Then I looked down to see a small hand massaging it softly. I opened my mouth to tell Diana to chill, but before I could get one word out, my mouth was filled with her tongue. I didn't even resist.

I ain't even the kissing type, especially not with a jump-off, but for some reason I was really feeling that shit this night. I moved my hands all over Diana's plump ass and between her ass cheeks. I couldn't wait to get inside her.

My first thought was to pull her into the men's bathroom and bend her over the sink and bang her out in there, but the real nigga in me just wouldn't let that shit happen. “Save this for later, ma,” I said, and I pulled away from her and headed into the bathroom.

After relieving myself of the liquor I'd consumed, and the blood rush that Diana provoked, I washed my hands and headed out the door. Just like I was stopped going in, I was stopped coming out, but it wasn't as pleasant as the first time.

Ciara, my baby mother, said, “I know you saw me when you came back here.”

Not even you can ruin this night
, I thought, playing it cool with her to prevent argument. “Yeah, but I had to piss.”

“Give me some money, Trayvon,” Ciara said, addressing me by my government name. She felt my pockets to see if I had the usual wad of money in there.

Without protesting I pulled off five twenties, handed them to her, and walked away.

When I arrived back at my table, Calico was sitting there with a couple of chicks. I already had my meal planned for the night, so I chose to sit at the bar rather than disrupt him. Who knows, maybe he was trying to set up a little late-night snack for himself.

I sat at the bar playing the computer game as Diana constantly fed me drinks. Every time she passed by, she would either blow me a kiss, stick her tongue out seductively, or give me some other type of sexual notion. This bitch really had me going.

I pulled out one of my phones to check the time.
One o'clock. One hour to go
, I thought. I sat my phone on the bar beside me and turned my concentration back on my game.

My bothersome baby mother came over again just to annoy me. “Why you sitting over here instead of with your friends? What you looking for—some pussy?”

“Nah. I'm letting Calico get some time in with the hoes.”

“Whatever,” she said then walked off.

There was no way in hell I could tell Ciara what I was doing. That bitch would fuck up anything I had with another female. I never understood why Ciara acted such a damn fool. I hadn't slept with her, finger-fucked her, or even kissed her since I came home from jail nearly three years ago. Again I turned my attention back to my game.

Not even five minutes passed before my cell phone began to ring. I answered my girlfriend's call, “What's up?”

“What the fuck you mean, ‘what's up'? Have you lost your mind, Touch? If you going to be with your baby mother every night, why don't you go live with her?” My girl went on and on.

“What the fuck you talking 'bout?” I asked as calmly as possibly. I looked around the bar to see if maybe my girl was at the lounge and assumed me and my baby mother were there together.

“I just got off the phone with Ciara, Touch. She called me from your other phone.”

I looked around the bar for Ciara as I listened to my girl talk.

“She told me she was calling from your phone tonight to prove that are y'all are together.”

I got a glimpse of Ciara sitting in the booth, looking in my direction, with a stupid-ass I'm guilty smirk on her face. I hung up on my girl as I headed toward the booth.

Once I arrived at the table, Ciara was sitting there with my phone in her hand. She stared me dead in my eyes with a look that said, “Yeah, I did it. So what you gonna do about it?”

I wasn't that nigga that hit chicks, but if pushed, I would set a bitch straight quick. And this night I was just about seconds away from beating the shit out of Ciara. I ain't even bother to entertain her bullshit. I just snatched my phone out of her hand then walked out the club.

Diana and Calico both called out to me as I stormed out the front door. I didn't even pause to see what they wanted. I was fuming inside. I knew if I spent another five seconds in Ciara's presence I would end up at 811, better known as Norfolk City Jail.

I rushed to my crib to try and explain shit to my girl. As soon as I pulled up, I noticed little pieces of burning paper falling out the window. I figured she must be doing that shit chicks do when they get mad, like ripping and burning pictures of us. Normally I didn't make it a practice of explaining shit to a chick, but this time I had no choice.

I rushed to the house and opened the door. The smell of bleach smacked me in the face as soon as I walked through the foyer. Now, I'd heard of people doing a lot of things when they get upset, like exercise, write, go for walk, but this was the first time I'd seen someone go on a cleaning binge then burn pictures. I followed the scent of bleach and burning paper up the stairs to the master bathroom. There I saw my girl sitting at the bathroom window with stacks of my money, pulling off twenty after twenty, setting them on fire, and throwing it out the window.

Without thinking I rushed toward her and grabbed her throat. My first instinct was to set that bitch on fire and throw her ass out the window, but her gasps for air snapped me back to reality.

“Bitch!” I pushed her to the floor and began to gather my money. I grabbed a Gucci duffle and threw my money in there then began to grab some clothes.

Even though this was my house, I wasn't going to stay a second longer; otherwise I was definitely catching a charge tonight.

As I rambled through the closet to pick out a few key pieces of clothing, my girl screamed, “I hate your trifling ass!”

I ain't say shit to her ass as I gathered my things. I just needed to get the fuck out of dodge, and fast.

In five minutes flat, I had my bag packed with enough clothes to last me a week. I glanced around the room one last time before exiting.

My girl lit a blunt and took a pull from it. She said calmly, “Don't forget your shit in the bathroom.”

From the look on that bitch face, I could tell she'd done some real fucked-up shit. I tried to think of the worst possible scenarios as I prepared myself to enter the bathroom.

I walked in and glanced around, but didn't notice anything strange. “What the fuck you talking about?” I asked, anxious to get out of the house.

She shot me a devious smirk. “The bathtub.”

I took a deep breath as I pulled back the shower curtain. I almost fainted when I looked down. Both of my chinchillas that I'd spent twenty thousand dollars on each were in the tub, soaking in bleach. I could feel my blood pressure rise, the more I looked at them. I ripped the shower curtain down, pulling the rod with it, and stormed out the bathroom.