Thirsty (20 page)
Authors: Mike Sanders
A few minutes after I’d ended the call with my brother, I heard J.T.’s truck pulling up in the driveway. I hastily put the jewelry back inside the box like I’d found it, then looked into the mirror and wiped my eyes for the
last
time. There would be no more crying, and no more pain for me. I was all cried out.
My reflection had showed that the glow in my eyes had faded to black. Just that quickly, all the admiration I’d had for this man had transformed into straight up
hate
!
When I heard his key enter the lock in the front door I took off his shirt and headed to the bathroom to hop into the shower. I wanted to wash away all of the physical
and
emotional distress I’d accumulated while I’d been sleeping with the enemy!
“That roastbeef. You know you ain’t gonna eat it,” he replied.
Winkie was a recovering crack addict who was only in rehab at the time because he had no choice but to be, considering where he was at. His appetite was humungous as hell because he was making up for all the meals he’d missed while chasing that “glass dick.” He wasn’t letting anything get pass him. I guessed he was trying to get his weight back up.
Looking down at the plastic tray I was holding, I decided that Winkie had been absolutely right; I didn’t want
any
of that shit.
“Here, you can get
all
this shit,” I told him while handing him the small tray.
Watching Winkie devour the meat that looked as if it had hues of green, pink, and blue in it made me realize where I was. I took a look around at all the niggas dressed in orange jumpsuits and flip flops, and it made me heated all over again. I was in the Charlotte Mecklenburg County Jail on some
bullshit
!
Those bitch ass homicide detectives had stepped their game up and ended up playing dirty with a nigga. Since they’d had such a hard time trying to pin bodies on a nigga in the past they’d decided to bring in reinforcements. They enlisted the ATF to try to rope a nigga off.
For the past month, I’d been sleeping on that hard ass slab of steel they called a bunk, having wet dreams and federal nightmares! They wouldn’t give me a bond, stating that I was a “flight risk,” meaning that once out, I’d probably disappear. So I was stuck!
They knew they’d never get me head up, so they decided to come at a nigga sideways by sending a woman at me. The more I thought about Janeka, or better yet “Agent Janice Waters” it made me feel as if molten lava was coursing through my veins. I had slipped with her because I should have followed up on her background. I should have also peeped the warning signs with her that was more than obvious. She had never told me the name of the salon she’d supposedly worked at nor had I even thought that maybe she’d lied about her job with Wells Fargo. That skunk had rocked a nigga all the way to sleep and when I’d finally woke up I was too far gone. Her words still rang in my head like the Liberty Bell.
“
This pussy ain’t heard enough yet.”
I had joked with her about me talking to the pussy, but later I’d found out that I had been doing just that—literally. That broad had been wired up. Never would I have imagined her having a mini-transmitter taped to her fucking crotch area. Technology is a beast!
That fateful day, agents had been posted up all around my crib waiting for her to give the signal:
“My clit’s throbbing.”
As soon as the words had escaped her lips, my house was bombarded with feds!
So, there I was with my voice on tape, confessing to bodies and shit. But the bright side to all of it was the fact that my attorney, Ronnie Dobson, whom was known as the white Johnnie Cochran, was confident that I’d walk. He had said that the way the situation had gone down it had been entrapment. Furthermore, I had said that I’d only told Janice what I thought she wanted to hear because I thought it would lead to a sexual encounter. Niggas run game everyday, telling women what they want to hear just to get the ass. My situation was no different.
I said I’d had the gun, using Agent Waters as a shield because I thought some niggas were trying to rob me. She never once identified herself as an agent so I had assumed she was in on the robbery attempt. All I heard was the sound of my door being smashed, so I was trying to protect myself because I feared for my life. This was my story and I was sticking to it. Truth be told, if I could turn the clock back thirty-one days I would’ve broken that bitch Janice’s neck in six different places!
In the four weeks I’d been off the streets things had gone berserk. Niggas had been stalling on payments of my cheddar and they had also been trying to spin Lil’Joe and Dave as well. Since Ali was dead and niggas thought I’d be gone for forever and a day, I guessed they felt they could try me like that. But little did they know they were sadly mistaken.
That nigga Monk had lost his fucking mind too. I had no idea which one of my niggas he’d caught slipping, but he had followed one of them to my condo and ended up blasting on them while they were all together. Face and Supreme had gotten hit but thankfully their injuries were nothing life threatening. But they were both still laid up in the hospital out of commission for a minute.
It seemed as soon as I’d gotten arrested, the niggas who used to harbor fear for me had suddenly grown some hair on their nuts. But it was all good because I was going to be back out there in no time. All I had to do was just lay it down, stay silent and ride that shit out.
“Los, you wanna play these niggas in spades?” Winkie asked.
I looked around and noticed that everyone had finished eating their so-called lunch and was now scattered out. Some were seated in the small television viewing area and a few were seated at the steel picnicstyle tables playing chess, checkers, or card games. I was bored as hell and didn’t feel like watching television so I decided to take Winkie up on his offer.
As we started towards the table Winkie whispered in my ear, “Watch my fingers, I’ma let you know how many spades I got on every deal, aiight.” I smiled at the fact that it never stopped with that nigga. Even in jail, this nigga was gaming and scheming.
“I got cha,” I told him as we sat at the table with two old school cats. “What we playin’ for?” I asked as I shuffled the cards.
The old school cats looked at one another and the one to my right stated, “Five commissary items a head. That too steep for y’all?”
Evidently he had no idea of who I was so I said, “Fuck that. A hundred dollars a head. I got my man Winkie, so y’all ain’t gotta worry about him.”
I must’ve sounded like I was speaking Chinese or some other foreign language because the old heads looked at me like I was crazy, then they got up, leaving me and Winkie sitting there.
“Nigga you ain’t on the streets no mo’. Niggas ain’t got it like that up in here,” Winkie stated with a hint of attitude because I’d run his “ducks” away. I had fucked up his hustle.
I watched as Winkie left to search for some more vics while I started playing solitary. I sat there and looked down at the orange suit I was wearing and thought
Ain’t no way in the fuck I’m supposed to be sittin’ up in here
.
I started thinking about everything that had happened in the past few months, from my spot getting jacked to Ali getting killed. And to top it off, I’d gotten knocked on some bogus ass shit. I got so frustrated I slung the cards across the table. Niggas looked at me like I was losing my mind. I ignored their stares, got up from the table, and left the cards scattered on the floor. I walked over to the television area and took a seat as the news was just coming on.
The headline was about missing persons and the first face I saw was a real familiar one. The name read Joy Harris and I squinted trying to place the face in my memory bank. I knew I knew her but I just couldn’t put my finger on it.
“I used to fuck that bitch,” one nigga said as he pointed at the girl’s picture.
Another stated, “That broad used to set niggas up. Ain’t no tellin’
what
happened to her ass. I’m willing to bet money they won’t find that bitch alive.”
It was then when I recognized her as Sapphire’s cousin. The news was saying that somebody had snatched her ass. While watching the report about Joy I heard my name being called by the CO. He informed me that I had a visit. I wasn’t expecting anyone so I had no idea who was waiting for me in the visitation room.
It took me fifteen minutes to get ready, and then I was escorted to the visitation area, which consisted of individual booths with one chair, a telephone mounted on the wall, and a thick pane of double-sided glass. On the other side of the glass was an identical booth reserved for the visitors. Once the cuffs were removed I rubbed my aching wrists before taking a seat. I looked across at my visitor through the glass and saw the beautiful woman motion for me to pick up the phone. We both took the phone off the wall at the same time and I spoke first.
“What it do, Mendoza?”
“Carlos,” she nodded, then looked me over, inspecting the jumpsuit. “Nice color. Matches your complexion.”
“Oh, so you got jokes?” We both laughed, and then I asked, “What wind blew you this way?”
“You know I had to come check on my favorite client,” she smiled.
“You sound like a lawyer talkin’ like that,” I smiled back.
“A lawyer? You know I don’t like those crooked muthafuckas.”
“What’s good? What you doin’ down here for real?” I asked my coke connect.
“Just wanted to come and see how you’re doin’, that’s all.”
“You mean you just wanted to see if I was keepin’ my mouth shut, right?”
She nodded slowly while maintaining eye contact, “Papa sent me.”
“I kinda figured that. Tell Papa Mendoza I got this shit whupped. And I don’t appreciate him sending you to check a nigga like this either. How long y’all been knowing me?” My voice was rising a little.
“Simmer down Los. It’s all love, baby,” she stated with a calm voice. “Don’t shoot the messenger, sweetheart,” she teased with a smile. “Besides, I can’t wait for you to get out so we can get back on track, I miss you.” She crossed her thick legs.
“Yeah right, you miss my money. That’s what you miss,” I laughed.
Mendoza and I chatted about my predicament with the female agent until my visiting time was up, twenty minutes after it had begun. As she rose to leave, I watched her fine ass walk away and I was wondering what it would be like to hit that. My dick got hard as I watched her ass swing from side to side through the thick glass. I’d been away from women for a month and it was beginning to take its toll on me. However, I had to check myself because Mendoza and her family were nothing to be fucked with. Besides, chasing a fine bitch was the reason why I was in this situation.
After the visit with my connect I went back to my tiny one-man room and lay back on that hard ass bunk. I thought about how I was going to have to step the game up once good ole Ronnie sprang a nigga out of this shit. I couldn’t believe that broad had come to see me like I had diarrhea at the mouth. If it hadn’t been for her, Face and Preme would have never gone up in that restaurant like that, letting Monk get away. Their method of murder was far more cautious than that, but Mendoza had pressed the issue and they had gotten careless. I needed to get out so I could get my team back on point because it seemed like things were slowly falling apart.
I hit the switch and waited for the room to be filled with light, and then I walked over and looked into the mirror. The first thing I noticed was how inanimate my eyes looked. Ever since I’d found out how much of a snake J.T. really was it seemed as if my entire world had turned morbid. I hated that nigga. I hated him for deceiving me. I also hated him for what he’d turned my life into. Everything about him made my stomach churn. Lately, I’d been trying not to cringe from his touch, but the just mere thought of his hands on me would literally make me sick!
I knew the charade I was playing would soon have to come to an end because I didn’t know how long I could pretend everything was copasetic. But I had to wait until the time was right before I handled my business.
While still looking into my eyes in the mirror I thought back to that day I’d realized what J.T. and his cousins had done. When he had come home that afternoon I was trying my best to act like nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed. But just the sight of his face with that conniving ass smile; that smile that once made me melt, now had me ready to wild out! But I’d managed to hold my composure and I played my role to perfection.
When J.T. returned home I watched while he checked the answering machine and listened to Joy’s message. I had just stepped from the shower and entered the room with one of his towels wrapped around me when I saw him standing by the nightstand, listening to the machine. The volume was still up until he’d heard me enter the room. That was when he turned down the volume. Joy’s voice put him on blast! His back was to me but I was watching the movements in his body language and imagined what type of look was on his face at that moment.
I’d asked, “You okay over there?”
I was seated on the bed drying myself off.
He never turned around. “Yeah, I’m good. Listen, how long you
He was probably wondering if I’d heard the message, but he didn’t ask.
“Not long,” I lied as I lotioned my legs.
“I gotta go upstairs and write up a few contracts. I’ll be down as soon as I’m done.”
He erased the message, walked over and kissed me on the lips, then exited the room. I could hear his footsteps as he ascended the stairs. I looked toward the ceiling where the footsteps had settled and thought about how bad I wanted that nigga dead. But like a good girl, I just grinned and bared it.
After throwing on a pair of shorts and a tank top I let ten minutes pass before I tip-toed up the stairs behind J.T. He was already in his office when I reached the second story of the house so I walked over to the door and listened as he carried on a conversation. Apparently his was on his cell because I hadn’t seen a telephone when I’d gone in there earlier. As I listened, I could only catch bits and pieces of what was being said.
I heard, “Fuck that bitch!…Hell yeah, milk carton material,” then there was laughter. Then I heard, “New ski masks for that one,” and then, “…yeah, I’m runnin’ that right now as we speak.”
I pressed my ear to the door a little harder and heard the faint mechanical sound of what seemed to be paper flipping at a rapid speed. It only took a hot second for me to realize it was the melodious sound of a money counting machine spitting out bills.
I immediately thought about the safe that was hidden inside the room. I knew it had to be open because J.T. had gone up the stairs empty handed and I definitely hadn’t seen a counting machine, let alone any money when I’d been inside. So, I figured he had to have gotten it all from inside the safe. After listening for a few more minutes I heard him address the person on the other end of his phone.
“Red, lemme holla back.”
Then apparently the conversation ended because there was no more talking.
I eased back downstairs to the living room and clicked on the television with the remote as I plopped down on the sofa and thought about what I’d heard J.T. say to his cousin. The mention of ski masks had confirmed everything I’d suspected, but I couldn’t help but to wonder who he had referred to when he’d said
“Fuck that bitch”
I wondered if he was talking about me and if so, did he have plans of trying to harm me, because I knew exactly what
“Milk carton material”
had meant!
A slight sense of fear had crept through me as I sat there and tried to figure out why I’d been so damn gullible. Then I realized that it had been the sex. It was said that, “Good dick will cause a bitch to turn a blind eye to all truths,” and I believed that at that moment because I had actually allowed the dick to cloud my judgment.
The morning after I had learned the truth about J.T., I told him I was going out for a few hours while he was getting ready to leave for work. I told him I needed a relaxer and a professional manicure because it had been so long since I’d had either. I knew J.T. was ready to see the “old Justice” all dollied up again. I knew he wouldn’t have any objections. Besides, those walls were driving a bitch bananas and I was in dire need of some fresh air.
I’d hopped in my Chrysler with hopes of not running into any of Carlos’s associates while out on the town. I pulled out of J.T.’s driveway and drove down the street from his house and parked. I could still see his house from where I was parked and minutes later, I saw J.T. climb into his truck and pull out and head in the opposite direction from which I’d driven.
I followed him and kept at least four cars between us as he made several stops. None of which were at an office nor any trucking companies. This nigga was flossing! He stopped by to pick up Red and they rode around for hours, frequenting pawn shops and gun stores. My brother used to do the same thing after a robbery. He’d try and pawn the jewelry he’d gotten from the stick up.
That first day after tailing him I beat him getting back home and promptly gave myself a store bought relaxer and did my own nails so he wouldn’t have any suspicions. I followed J.T. for three days in a row and each day was just like the day before. The only thing he did was floss. It was then when I knew without a doubt that this man didn’t even have a damn job. His occupation was the same as my brother’s. J.T. was a stick-up kid. It was possible that he’d probably been selling drugs also, but from my observation I saw all the signs of “robbing” being his number one hustle. All of my suspicions had been confirmed. I had
no
doubt as to what J.T. had done.
My mind snapped back to the present when I heard J.T.’s sleepfilled voice call me from the bedroom.
“Justice! Come back to bed, baby.”
I took a deep, frustrated breath and then flushed the toilet as if I’d been taking a tinkle, ran the water in the sink for a few moments while thinking of how bad I wanted to go back in there and pull a Lorena Bobbitt on that muthafucka!
After pulling myself together, I clicked off the bathroom light, re-entered the bedroom and climbed back in bed with this serpent. I was hoping he had fallen back asleep, but as soon as I was beneath the comforter his hands began groping my body and his lips was on my skin. He made me want to vomit. It was amazing as to how someone who used to be able to get me wet without even touching me now repulsed me to no end. I forced myself to reciprocate as the small, steel ball in my tongue clacked away.
He rolled over on top of me, climbed between my legs and spread my thighs so quickly I didn’t even have time to protest as he entered me without protection.
“J.T., wait a min…”
I tried to stop him but it was too late, he was already inside and in full stroke. I couldn’t push his weight off of me and he wasn’t about to stop, so I raised my hips to meet him stroke for stroke and proceeded to grind harder and harder with each passing second, so he’d hurry up and finish and get the hell off of me!
“Yeah, throw that pussy baby!” J.T. commanded, stroking me faster and faster until his body jerked and his dick swelled inside me as he ejaculated. “Damn, baby, that shit was
like that,”
he whispered breathlessly in my ear, then rolled off me and moved back to his side of the bed. He was heaving and panting as if he’d just put in major work when in actuality he had just semi-raped me.
I pulled the comforter back up over my body, rolled over onto my side with my back to him, and stared into the darkness. A lone tear attempted to escape my eye, but I was determined not to cry again. My crying days were over.
A few minutes after J.T. had moved back to his side of the bed I heard his familiar light snore. He slept contently as if everything was lovely.
Only if you knew what I got planned for your ass,
I thought silently as I felt his seed oozing from my vagina.
I can’t take this shit no more.” Tomorrow. It’s gotta happen tomorrow. If I stay in this house with him one more day I’ll lose my damn mind!
The ball in my tongue was still clacking as I lay there, staring into black space.
