The Streets Keep Calling. Chunichi
off comes second nature to me. You feel me?” she said while she played with her hands and avoided making eye contact with me.
“A’ight shorty, everything good. I’m going down the block.” I attempted to end the conversation.
“Damn, you just got home. You trying to stand on the corner with your niggas already?”
“What? Nah, I ain’t on that shit right now. I’m just trying to clear my head right now. I’m headed to the liquor store.”
“For real? Can you bring me back something?” Trixy asked.
“And me too,” a little voice chimed in.
I looked to my right to see a little boy running up to Trixy. “Who’s that, Momma?” he asked while pointing at me, then continued, “Is this my daddy or something?” He looked like a little gangster.
“Boy, get your little behind out of here!” Trixy commanded. “You need to stay out of grown folk’s business! Didn’t I tell you your daddy was in the Navy and that’s why he’s always gone? Now this here is Mr. Breeze. He is an old friend,” Trixy explained.
“Well, why I ain’t never seen you before?” the little runt asked me.
“I probably been in jail your whole life. How old are you, little nigga?” I asked.
“Six!” he said proudly, with his chest out.
“And what’s your name?”
“Junior,” he responded with a hint of attitude in his voice.
“A’ight, little man. I’ll holla at you.” I watched him as he walked off, heading toward the rec center. Little nigga had a confident swagger that reminded me of a younger me. I quickly shook my head to clear my thoughts, and turned back toward Trixy. “What you drinking?”
“Bacardi rum Bahama Mama the 1.75, liter bottle,” she quoted like she worked for the ABC store or something.
“A’ight, I got you,” I said as I continued to the store.
My thoughts went back to Junior as I walked away. I kind of felt bad for the little dude. I knew Trixy probably had no fucking idea who his daddy really was. The crazy thing was how the little nigga kind of favored me. Naw, couldn’t be. That’s all I need is a little soldier I don’t know about, I thought as I got closer to the store.
Once in the store I searched for Trixy’s liquor. I grabbed it, then grabbed a small bottle of Hennessy and headed to the register.
“Twenty-eight dollars and thirty-two cents,” the cashier stated.
Oh, shit! I ain’t got but twenty dollars, I thought as I looked at the total on the register to confirm what I’d just heard. Embarrassed, I had to tell the cashier lady I only wanted the Bahama Mama. There was no way I could go back to the house without Trixy’s drink. Minutes later I was near her crib.
“That was quick,” she yelled as I walked up.
“Here you go. That’s a big bottle for such a small lady.” I handed Trixy her bottle.
“So what you get for yourself?” Trixy asked, noticing I was empty-handed.
“Nothing. I’m good,” I lied. I didn’t want to tell her how bad I really needed a drink but couldn’t afford it.
“Nah, I can’t drink alone. I’ll be right back.” Trixy disappeared through the barred storm door of her house. Moments later, she returned with a glass filled with ice and another glass filled with ice and a dark liquid. “Here. This is for you.” She handed me the drink.
“What is it?” I asked as I sniffed the glass. My nostrils filled with a familiar scent.
“Hennessy.”
Perfect, I thought as I took a big gulp. The Hennessy burned my throat all the way to my chest as it went down. It’d been so long since I had some liquor in my system, I could feel the shit coating my stomach and going into my veins. Trixy and I sat on the porch and chatted as we drank. Before I knew it, two hours had passed and we had talked about everything from old times to who’s who in the present-day drug game. I was surprised at just how much she knew. It wasn’t long after Trixy had taken the last swallow from her bottle that she began to get a little frisky. Somehow I knew it was coming.
“I know you didn’t buy yourself anything because you didn’t have enough money,” she said in a drunken slur.
“Oh, yeah?” I said, taking another sip of my drink. Nigga was feeling real nice right about now.
“Yeah. If you didn’t want anything you wouldn’t have drunk all those glasses of Hennessy I brought you. It’s cool, though. That’s kinda sexy. You left your drink behind and bought mine.” Trixy came really close to me, then whispered in my ear, “Just thinking about that shit turns me on.” I could feel her lips on my ear, and the heat from her breath radiate down my neck.
Although everything in me wanted to grab her, lay her across the porch, rip off her clothes, and fuck the shit out of her, there was no way I was gonna give this girl another chance to diss me. So I looked at her out the corner of my eye, then turned my head like what she did had no effect on me at all.
“Just in case you didn’t understand the message behind what I was saying, translation: my pussy is wet. You can’t ignore this for long,” Trixy said as she turned around, placed her ass directly in my face, then headed toward the front door.
It took everything in me not to pounce on that ass right away, but I knew I had to play it cool and make her wait a little bit. After about a minute flat, I couldn’t hold out any longer and had to give in. Still refusing to run after her, I got up and took another thirty seconds to stroll toward where she was standing. As I got closer, she turned around, and I was immediately hypnotized by her booty. I found myself walking in a trance-like state right behind Trixy and that irresistible ass of hers.
“I thought you would see it my way.” She smiled as she opened the door.
“Where’s your son?” I asked, not wanting to be in the middle of fucking his mom from the back and have him run in on us.
“I sent him to my mom’s crib for the night” Trixy said, then continued, “My place ain’t much, but it will do for right now.” She locked the door after I came in.
“This is cool,” I responded, looking around.
Her crib was decent. Even though Trixy was kind of on the ghetto side, her taste was pretty close to that of my boogie-ass wife, Maria. Her place was set up almost the same way as the living room in my old house. She had a bad-ass cream couch and love seat that fit the room perfectly, and I was really digging the chocolate lounging chair. Not only that, but the bitch had a sixty-inch flat screen that really set it off. I must say, a nigga was impressed.
“I need to go to my bedroom for a minute. Please make yourself at home. I got Heineken chilling in the fridge if you wanna take the buzz off from all that Hennessy,” Trixy offered.
I quickly went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle, hoping that shit really would take the buzz off. A nigga was really feeling drunk. Shortly after I sat down on the couch, music started playing. It was the sound of Trey Songz’s “Neighbors Know My Name.” I knew exactly what was coming next. I hadn’t had any pussy in over five years, and I knew the slightest touch would cause me to bust within seconds. I wasn’t about to take a chance at embarrassment. As a nigga, I already knew what I had to do.
“Trixy, where’s your bathroom?” I yelled down the hall.
“It’s the first door on the left,” she yelled back.
I rushed to the bathroom and gently shut the door. I wasted no time pulling my pants down. I scanned the room quickly, and grabbed the first bottle of lotion I saw sitting on the counter. I poured some Victoria’s Secret Japanese cherry blossom into my palm and started jerking off. Thinking of all those models in the Hustler magazine