Thong on Fire (19 page)

I
HAD BEEN
kicking it hard with Free for a good minute and it was starting to get deep between us. Free treated me like no other man ever had. We had the most intense sexual attraction I’d ever experienced, and he beat my pussy to death on a regular basis.

Free was a hardworking man, and him and his manager had put their heads together and decided to come out with a compilation album of the greatest hits of some of hip hop’s top artists. They planned to call it
Keep It Gangsta
and they were gonna film some clips to go with each track to make a music video.

Some of the scenes they shot in New York and some in Atlanta. The rest they were gonna shoot in Jamaica, and Free asked me if I wanted to go with him. Did I wanna go wasn’t the question! I plugged Marshall’s hole and gave him some bomb-ass top on Sunday afternoon, and a few hours later Free came to get me and I was
so
on that damn airplane!

Jamaica was banging. I was used to being on sets, but most of the time I was there to prance around half-naked while a rapper did his thing. This time I sat up on that set in a huge honcho chair next to Free like I was a big willie for real. Every industry chick who was there wanted to be me, and I walked around feeling myself on account of Free’s celebrity status in the business, and my wifey status with him.

I wasn’t whiny or needy while he was tryna handle his business or nothing, but at the end of each day when the set shut down was when I really came alive. We partied all over Jamaica, and I tried to drink every damn drop of rum they had on the island.

We spent seventeen wild-ass days in Jamaica, and the night before we bounced I got pissy drunk. We were getting lifted at the Half Moon resort in Montego Bay when that strong Jamaican yummy hit me on the sneak tip. Plus, I was high as hell too. One of the cameramen had copped a cigar box full of chronic blunts from a Rasta on the beach and gave me a handful. I took them shits in the women’s bathroom and puffed like a dragon. Those was the best trees I had ever smoked in my life. I felt fine as long as I was shaking my ass, rubbing all over Free on the dance floor and yanking on his dick through his clothes, but the minute I sat my ass down it felt like somebody smashed me over the head with ten bottles of rum.

“Damn,” I muttered, holding my head. Free had gone out front to talk to somebody a few minutes earlier. He had spent the last two days hanging out with some white boy real estate developer looking at property and doing who knew what else. The guy picked Free up in a fresh Jag and I was impressed. I’d wanted to roll with them when they took off, but Free wouldn’t let me, saying he needed to handle some pricey business and that I would love my surprise later on. I didn’t sweat it though, I just stayed back and chilled with the artists on the set and got lifted. He’d been gone from our booth for a good minute when that rum bit me. I got up and stumbled outside, trying to find him. Instead of ending up in front of the hotel, I found myself out back on the beach. It was real muggy out and I took off the red, green, and yellow sarong Free had bought me at a market, and tossed it in the sand. I walked out of my sandals and staggered toward the water in just my black thong and my red halter top.

The waves coming in looked real white and foamy, and I giggled as I ran out to meet them. I jumped with two feet and went splashing into the water, and when the first wave smacked

“Oh, shit,” I said, trying to turn over. The water was up to my chest. I was struggling up on my hands and knees when the next wave slapped me in the ass and wet up my hair and washed sandy water up my nose.

I spit out salty phlegm and coughed and choked, but as the wave went back out I felt my knees sinking deeper into the sand. I looked up and the hotel lights seemed like they were ten miles away. I started reaching toward them, and when the next wave hit me, I fought it, trying to crawl as the water foamed all around me.

I was panicking and gulping as the salty water burned my throat and blinded me. I tried to breathe through my nose and sniffed pure fire. I choked then swallowed and opened my mouth to scream, and that’s when he grabbed me.

“Saucy!” Free had my hands and he was lifting me to my feet. “Stand up! Stop fighting! This shit ain’t even that deep. Just stand up!”

He put his arm around me and half carried me out of the water. Both of us was soaking wet and I was sniffing and spitting out salt and sand and squeezing my eyes closed to make them stop burning.

“I—I was tryna find you,” I gasped drunkenly, spitting out tiny grains of sand. “Where you was at?”

“I told you I had to talk to my man! When I got back in there you were gone. Some cat said he saw you go out to the beach. You lucky I found your ass!”

Walking up a beach was sure a lot harder than walking down one, even if it was short. I took a few steps then stopped to catch my breath and looked at Free, and when I saw all that damn water running outta his jeans I bust out laughing!! That shit was fuuuunnny! His beef and broccoli Timbs was squishing and his green and white Rocawear shirt was stuck to his body.

“What’s so damn funny?”

I grabbed him and pressed my wet body up against him. “You saved my life, Freedom! Baby, you saved my life!”

He pushed me away. “Get the hell off me, Saucy. Your ass is
stupid
drunk.”

I lunged for him again. “But you saved my life, baby! You saaaaaved meeee! I owe you big time, boy! I’ma love your ass forever ’cause you
saved
me!”

He gave me a disgusted look. “Yeah? Well you remember that shit the next time your drunk ass is out there drowning, okay?”

Free played me all the way back to New York.

I kept trying to kick up a conversation with him, but he wasn’t having it. He gave me a funny look when I was ordering some drinks on the plane, then he closed his eyes and pretended like he was sleeping for the rest of the flight. When we landed at JFK and went through customs, he told his driver to put his bags in the limo, and then he flagged down the next waiting taxi for me.

“I’ll check you out, Saucy,” he said as he put me in the cab. He gave the driver a bunch of bills, then turned back to me. “It’s time for me to get back on my grind and you should probably do whatever you do too.”

I couldn’t believe this shit. He was fronting me off like I was one of his groupies.

“What’s wrong, Freedom? Why you acting like that?”

“Acting like what? I’m being me, Shawty. I don’t know who the hell you being.”

“So that’s it?”

All he said was, “I’ll holla,” and then slammed the door.

I rode home cursing his ass out in my head. He let one drunk night mess up what we had going. I wouldn’t have even been out on that damn beach if I hadn’t been looking for him and he needed to know that shit.

I whipped out my cell phone and hit him on speed dial.

Whattup, yo. This ya man Freedom. You got the right nigga at the wrong time. Leave a message. Beep
.

I pressed call end and snapped my phone shut. It was gonna feel funny staying by myself again after kicking it with him for so many weeks, but fuck him. Thanks to Marshall I had my own damn bed to crash in and Freedom wasn’t the only nigga on my thong.

I didn’t know how much he’d given the cab driver, but it had looked like a little bundle and I held out my hand for change when we got to my house.

The cab driver damn sure didn’t wanna hand it over.

“Just take out what’s on the meter,” I told him. “I’ll give you your tip.”

Free must’ve given him sixty dollars ’cause he gave me back a twenty.

“Sorry,” I said as I dragged my bags out by myself. “I ain’t got no change.”

Upstairs my apartment seemed empty and quiet. Other than Sundays, I spent every day of the week with Free, and I was already missing him. I left my bags right by the front door and kicked off my shoes and left them there too. I had meant to check my mail before I came up, but I was busy fighting with my bags.

I stripped out of my clothes on the way to the bathroom and sat on the tub naked. I turned on the water and dropped some bath beads in, then thought about Free and went back in the living room to get my cell phone.

It rang as I was picking it up, and I flipped it open real quick and giggled. “Hey baby,” I purred. “I knew you’d come around.”

“Oh you did, huh?”

I almost dropped the phone. “Marshall!” I screamed.

“Don’t Marshall me, who did you think was coming around?”

“You! Who else? It’s just that I ain’t heard from you in a minute, boo. I thought maybe your wife had you on lockdown.”

He laughed. “Nah, baby, we’re getting a divorce. But you the one who been out there doing the damn thang. You was MIA for our last two Sundays, ya know. You got some time for Papa tonight?”

I yawned. “Oooh, Papa. You know I always got time for you. It’s just that Mami got cramps and she’s tired for real. I don’t have a bit of energy.”

“Oh yeah? Well tonight is your night then. Papa’s gonna come over and take good care of you for a change. I’ll bring you some dinner and a movie, cool? See ya in twenty minutes.”

Shit! I dropped that damn phone on the couch and raced to the door and dragged my suitcases over to the balcony. I opened the door and kicked them out. Then I ran to my linen closet and grabbed a set of clean sheets. In my bedroom, I stripped the dirty sheets off the bed, and threw the clean ones on any old kinda way. Then I ran back into the bathroom and splashed around in the tub, washing my ass like the house was on fire.

I went to brush my teeth and realized my toothbrush was in my bag outside on the balcony. I jetted back out there and dug around in my suitcase until I found it, then ran back into the bathroom and squeezed some toothpaste on the brush, then started scrubbing my teeth real fast. But when I looked into the mirror, I knew I was fucked up for real. On the left side of my neck, right under my ear, was a big-ass hickey. Free had put it on me the morning before, when he freaked me in the shower.

“Goddamn!” I shrieked and snatched the medicine cabinet open looking for my makeup case. But it was in my suitcase. Seconds later I was back on the balcony digging through my other bag. I found the makeup case and patted foundation all over my neck until the redness disappeared.

By now I was sweating and getting funky. I rubbed some deodorant under my arms and pulled my hair back in a ponytail, then ran in my room to find some clothes to throw on.

Marshall showed up faster than I had expected, and the smell coming from the big bag of Chinese food he was carrying turned my stomach.

“You looking good, Saucy,” he told me. He kissed me on the cheek and patted my ass. “I brought some egg foo yung. Why don’t you go fix us a couple of plates while I pop this movie in?”

Egg foo yung? This nigga had a lot of nerve. Yeah, I knew it was technically his joint, but mi casa was not su casa! I took the bag of food in the kitchen and slapped some of his Chinese goo on a plate. I’d disappeared to Jamaica without telling him and I knew Marshall was past due on his sex thang, but the only nigga I wanted to fuck was Free.

I carried the plate into the living room and Marshall was already lounging on the plush sofa with his feet up and the remote in his hand.

“Thanks, baby,” he said as I passed him the food. “You’re not going to eat?”

I shook my head. “I told you I got cramps. I ain’t really hungry.”

“Yeah, I heard that.”

Marshall patted a spot next to him for me to sit down on the soft couch, then dug into his Chinese food.

“What movie did you get?” I asked as we waited for it to come on.

He shrugged. “Some grade B bootleg shit. I heard the actress was hot, though.”

The onscreen action started with the camera zooming in on a headboard slamming against a wall, and the first thing I thought was, “That shit looks too familiar.” But when I realized exactly what I was looking at, I jumped up and yelled, “What the fuck is this?”

On the screen I was straight naked and bent over Marshall’s bed while Free hit it from the back like a maniac. I remembered that night real good. He’d swung by real late and had just caught me coming in from the club. I was buzzed and horny, and we’d tried to tear that damn bed down. My titties was jumping and jiggling and oh, ooh! oh, ooh! was coming out of my mouth as I fucked back at Free, getting crazy with it.

“Marshall! What the fuck is this?!?!”

“Oh, this that kinda shit they call bird business,” Marshall said, winking with a mouthful of food. “That’s when a chicken fucks her stud in another nigga’s bed.”

I glanced at the screen and saw myself crawl up on the mattress, then turn around and deep throat Free’s thick black dick until it disappeared. He grabbed my hair and waxed me up and down his dick as I squeezed his balls and pulled him further down into my neck.

“Nigga…” I gasped, not believing my eyes. “You had a fuckin’
camera
set up in here?”

Marshall laughed. “Oh, hell yeah! I always roll the videotape when I’m rolling with a video ho. I gotta protect my property, ya know?”

I snatched the remote control and stopped the tape.