Big Juicy Lips (5 page)

B
ut, the secret had been revealed. Misty had been peering through a dusty basement window; she’d witnessed the obscene act with disgust and fascination.

When Brick came outside, she ridiculed him. Disregarding the humiliation that shone in his wounded eyes, unconcerned that he’d endured Frankie’s wrath to protect her, Misty maliciously hit him with one low blow after another. “How long you been freakin’ with Frankie? I can’t believe you been a homo all this time!” she shouted, gleeful that she’d uncovered a shameful secret.

“I’m not a homo. Frankie made me do it!” Brick shouted.

“It didn’t look that way to me. Your eyes were squeezed up all tight, gripping his head, grinding all on his face. I guess it’s over for me and you. You go with Frankie now. Looks like you done fell in love with Frankie,” she taunted.

“I don’t go with Frankie. I ain’t gay. I still go with you. You know, you’re still my girl,” Brick said in a pleading voice.

“Faggots have jelly babies. You gon’ marry Frankie, if one of y’all ends up pregnant?” Misty asked, and then emitted cackling laughter. She didn’t cease the torrent of cruel insults until Brick was reduced to sobs.

And violence. In a burst of rage, Brick clutched her by the collar, shook her until her teeth rattled. His face was filled with such blazing fury, he was unrecognizable. “I took that fall for you!” he bellowed like a wounded animal. “How you gon’ turn on me, when you the reason why this happened to me?” Brick’s voice boomed, his emotional pain rang out with every word. “I’ll kill your lil’ ass if you ever tell anybody about this.”

Stunned, Misty was briefly silent. Brick had never threatened her before, but he looked and sounded serious. “I’m sorry, Brick,” she said insincerely. “I was just playing. I won’t tell anybody; I promise.”

Brick dried his tears with the back of his hand.

“So, what was up with the blindfold?” Misty asked after Brick had gotten control of his emotions. “You looked crazy, serving dude with a blindfold on,” she said with a chuckle.

Brick sighed. “Leave me alone, Misty. I don’t wanna talk about it, aiight?” Hurt and frustrated, he kicked a stone.

But Misty persisted. “Tell me, Brick, come on,” she cajoled.

“Frankie said a real man won’t let another man look at him while he’s looking out for his health.”

“What!” Misty said in a shrill tone.

“Forget it, Misty. I don’t feel like talking right now. I’ll explain tomorrow. It’s late; I gotta get home. You know how my foster father is. Mr. Rodney’s probably sitting in his chair, waiting with his belt. I know he’s mad as hell. He forgot to whip my ass yesterday. I hope he’s so drunk, he forgot about it. After all this, I can’t deal with two days’ worth of his leather belt.”

Misty never told a soul. It benefited her to keep Brick’s secret. And due to Misty’s spending habits, the two adolescents continued to come up short and Brick continued to pay Frankie back with his strength-yielding, white sap.

Frankie seemed content with the agreement until the day Misty went buck wild at the Gallery Mall and fucked up the money from an entire package.

“White sap ain’t gon’ get it, this time, Lil’ Playa,” Frankie told Brick grimly. Brick, sorting through the pile of laundry inside the wicker basket, searching for the blindfold, looked up at Frankie in bewilderment. “Look at yourself,” Frankie spewed. “You digging through that basket of dirty clothes, all desperate, like a dog looking for a bone. You feenin’ for this bone—” He crudely stroked his privates. “Bad as I want to, I can’t freak with you no more. You done turned sweet, mufucka,” Frankie accused, sounding personally offended.

“No, I’m not. I’m not sweet,” Brick mumbled in protest.

“Yeah, right!” Frankie scrunched his face in disgust. “Check this out…me, myself—I do what I do for health reasons. I gotta keep my strength up,” Frankie explained, poking himself in the chest, “But you—” Frankie shook his head. “I know young bucks don’t handle business right. Figured you were trying to be a man about messing up my cash flow—stepping up and doing the right thing.”

“I do try to do the right thing. That’s why I get down with you, Frankie. I step up to the plate like a man. I give you my white sap to keep you strong. I’m looking out for your health, for real, Frankie.” Brick gulped in fear.

Frankie sneered. “Yeah, that shit you talkin’ sounds all heroic, but somewhere along the line you done developed a bad habit. When I think back—the way you were so willing to give up your white sap…the more I think about it, the more I realize that you was already sweeter than a Fruit Loop before I started taking your strength.”

“Nah, I never got down with a dude before. I had to look out for my girl. Misty’s got a real bad habit. She can’t help herself. She gotta shop.”

“Oh, yeah? Ya girl been stealing my product?”

“No, she don’t smoke crack. She got a shopping habit. I swear, she can’t help it. She gotta shop all the time.”

“Nigga, please. Ain’t no such thing as a damn shopping habit. You probably helping her fuck up that money, just so you can get your dick sucked.” Frankie shook his head. “Here I am, thinking I’m teaching you something beneficial that you could use later on in life, and the whole time, I was dealing with a young homo. Nigga, I ought to whip your ass for lying to me. Now that you done turned completely gay, your white sap can’t help me no more.”

“I’m not gay!”

“Whatever. Tuck your shit back in your pants because I don’t want it. Drinking white sap from a faggot could mess my system up, have me sickly and weak as a little bitch.”

Hurt and confused, Brick lowered his head and slowly adjusted his pants. A few seconds later, Frankie advanced and yanked Brick into a headlock. “You gon’ pay for tricking me into fuckin’ with your sissy ass.”

“I didn’t trick you. I’m not a sissy. I’m straight.” He croaked out the words. Gagging and gasping, he fought to break Frankie’s chokehold, but couldn’t. Though Frankie claimed Brick’s white sap was tainted, had made him weak, he seemed to possess the strength of ten men as he crushed Brick’s face against his bulging bicep.

With his free hand, he dug inside his pocket and whipped out a gleaming knife. Brick went into a wild panic. To no avail, he desperately struggled to pull his head out of Frankie’s steely embrace. As if testing the sharpness of the blade, Frankie punctured the skin on Brick’s chin. Satisfied, he plunged the knife in, twisting it, brutally chipping chinbone as he pushed it in deeper.

Brick bellowed in agony. Frankie pulled the embedded knife upward, viciously tearing through flesh and chipping at bone. In a state of shock, Brick went limp. He didn’t hear the horrible sounds of his cheekbone crunching and cracking. He didn’t feel the hot blood splash out over his arms and clothing as Frankie brutally ripped open his face, zigzagging the knife from his chin all the way up to his hairline.

“Brick!” Misty shouted from the bedroom, her shrill voice bringing Brick back to reality. “How long does it take to wash up? Turn that water off, so I can get some sleep!”

Brick pulled his hand away from the curving scar and turned off the water. Tears blurred his monstrous, mirrored image. Frankie had not only fucked up his face, he’d also succeeded in messing up Brick’s head; distorting his sexual identity.

Frankie had claimed Brick was gay. Brick didn’t know what category he belonged in. Constantly plagued by freaky urges that involved men, Brick decided that although he wasn’t totally straight, he wasn’t totally homosexual either. He could back up that claim, too.

Sure, he allowed men to suck his dick and, yes, he engaged in sexual fantasies that revolved around men, but he had never performed or had been on the receiving end of anal sex with a man. As much as Misty badgered him and had tried to persuade him to give up some head to clients in order to increase their earnings, Brick flat-out refused.

A few years back, she’d bugged him about showing Shane some love; pleading with him to do it for her. She’d badgered him so badly that Brick finally broke down and agreed to it. But when she threw Shane some hints, Shane had frowned up, clearly appalled. After that, it seemed that Shane had gone out of his way to avoid Misty and Brick.

If Shane hadn’t slit his wrists and taken himself out the way he did, Brick was certain that Misty’s determined ass would have figured out a way to convince Shane to let Brick suck his dick. Truth be told, Brick would have done it. Misty was in love with Shane and Shane was his nigga. Shane was the only man that Brick would have even considered blowing.

Brick pondered his sexual orientation for a few more moments and came to the conclusion that neither Misty nor any other woman who’d ever sucked on his jawn could give head as well as a man could.
But that’s just the freak in me. I ain’t no Fruit Loop!

“Brick!” Misty yelled again. “Bring a washcloth so you can wipe out all this slobber you left between my legs.”

“Aiight!” Brick opened the linen closet and sorted through a stack of colorful folded washcloths and selected a pink, fluffy one, which was monogrammed with fancy lettering spelling out Misty’s name.

Lovingly, he ran warm water over the expensive fabric and squeezed a few dollops of Misty’s favorite body gel. He’d clean her coochie slowly, tenderly—the way she liked it—until he lulled his pretty baby to dreamland.

“Here I come, Misty, baby,” Brick said, wearing a ready smile. He was pussywhipped and proud of it. His devotion to Misty’s coochie was evidence that Frankie the Freak had not turned him gay.

T
he day was passing peacefully. No tricks were lined up that evening and Misty had left him with a large quantity of weed—her way of appeasing him while she hijacked their only source of transportation, leaving him housebound for the day.

Misty was on yet another day-long shopping spree. She was on a binge again. Shopping every day, buying up the stores, but she still wasn’t satisfied. Most times, she returned home weighed down by shopping bags that she tossed in the closet without even admiring her purchases.

Sometimes, she mistakenly bought the same item twice. Brick didn’t mind, though. He enjoyed the solitude. Nothing soothed his soul like being able to fall back, undisturbed all day. He loved Misty to death, but having her out of the apartment was heaven. If he didn’t keep her fucked and sucked several times a day, she’d talk his ear off about her latest idea for him to make them more money. Her constant plotting on new ways to market his dick made his head hurt sometimes.

Last night, he’d fucked her extra long and extra hard, using his penis to wear her out and put her to sleep. Just before conking out, she kissed him and dreamily told him she was going to make him an internet porn star. Even in the state just before slumber, Misty was on top of her pimp game, hinting that she’d like to film him in action. He wasn’t even worried about it, though. It didn’t matter how big his dick was or how long he could last, nobody would pay to watch a porn flick with a disfigured star.

Blissfully, Brick watched hours of daytime TV, rented a couple pay-for-view flicks, and rolled one blunt after another, puffing away until his appetite became ravenous.

True, he loathed tricking, but admittedly his thick inches kept him and Misty rolling in enough greenbacks to meet their needs. And his needs were quite basic. Food, weed, and brew on a daily basis plus a pair of sneakers, a pair of Timbs, a new pair of jeans, every now and then. Brick wasn’t into flashy jewelry. In fact, he didn’t wear any type of jewelry; not even a watch. Misty rocked so much bling, Brick was satisfied to bask in the illumination of her shine. Brick smiled. Just standing next to his pretty little Misty was a major come-up in his life.

After all these years, he still felt honored to be in her presence. He didn’t even mind when Misty openly flirted with other dudes.

“What about him?” dudes would ask whenever Misty flirted in Brick’s presence.

“Oh, that’s Brick. He’s my bodyguard,” she’d reply, looking and sounding like an A-list star. On cue, Brick would assume a severe expression and the wide-legged stance of a bodyguard.

Going along with Misty’s public role-playing games always assured him of a night of freaky passion. He had to give her major props. Misty was dat bitch; in and out of bed.

A loud growl from his stomach interrupted his musings. Brick called a local deli and ordered a smorgasbord of greasy food.

When the doorbell rang, Brick rubbed his hands together and delightedly opened the door. The delivery person stood in the doorway, heavily laden with a large pizza and three large paper bags filled with side orders. “Hey, my man. What it is? Yo, cuz, you got here quick as shit. That’s whassup!”

Happily, Brick unburdened the delivery man of the packages.

Overdosing on weed and food and groggy from too much beer, Brick fell asleep on the living room sofa. The blare of the house phone jolted him awake.

“Damn!” he muttered and reached for the handset, a bleary eye focused on the caller ID.
Thomasina Bernard
. “Aw, fuck that!” he growled. He had no rap for Misty’s loud-mouth mom. If Miss Thomasina wanted to speak to her daughter, she’d better hit Misty up on her cell. If Misty didn’t pick up, that meant she didn’t feel like talking to her right now. Just hearing Miss Thomasina’s voice would wreck the remainder of Brick’s peaceful day. Following his better judgment, Brick turned off the ringer and curled back into his spot on the sofa. Two minutes later, the muffled but annoying sound of the telephone emanated from the bedroom.

He sat up and stared at the mute phone in the living room.
What the fuck is up with Miss Thomasina?
Maybe something had happened to Misty! Sudden apprehension caused Brick to lunge for the phone. “Hello!” he said urgently.

“Where the hell is Misty?” Thomasina barked into the phone.

Irritated, Brick blew out a whoosh of air. “She ain’t home.”

“Well, where the hell is she?” Thomasina asked sharply.

“Shopping.” Brick’s emotionless, one-word response was certain to rile Misty’s mom.

“Tell me something I don’t know, genius,” Thomasina snapped. “Misty picked me up after work. She dropped me off at my linedancing class and was supposed to come back and take me shopping after my class.”

Brick screwed up his lips. He didn’t appreciate hearing that Misty’s hateful mom was benefiting off his hustle, too.
I’m not good enough for her daughter but my money’s good enough for her to spend.

He wanted to say something sarcastic, but Misty wouldn’t appreciate him disrespecting her mother. Wisely, Brick decided to suck it up and let it ride. Besides, Miss Thomasina’s taste wasn’t anywhere near as expensive as Misty’s. She couldn’t break the bank.

“I’ve been waiting for an hour and twenty minutes. Where could that girl be?”

Deep in unpleasant thoughts, Brick frowned as he ran a finger over his thick scar. It wasn’t like Misty to leave her mom stranded. If somebody had hurt his pretty baby, he’d shoot a mufucka, strangle him with his bare hands, stomp a nigga to death. Brick shook his head as a succession of murderous thoughts galloped across his mind.

“Are you going to help me come up with a solution or do you plan on breathing in the phone like a moron?” Thomasina said with chilling hostility.

“Uh, I’ll hit her up on her cell and see whassup.”

Thomasina made a long groaning sound. “If I can’t reach her on her cell, what makes you think you can? I told you her cell is turned off,” Thomasina huffed. “Nitwit!”

Brick flinched at being called a nitwit. So far Miss Thomasina had called him out of his name twice in the conversation. He wanted to go off on her, put her in her place, but he kept a civil tongue. “Maybe she turned it back on by now. I’ll check on that for you.” Brick forced his voice to take on a respectful tone.

“No, thank you,” she muttered resentfully. “I’m not waiting another minute for that spiteful heifer. I’m taking a cab. Make sure you tell Misty that she owes me cab fare and a shopping trip.” Thomasina hung up.

Brick flopped back down on the sofa. Something was wrong. He could feel it. Too anxious to go back to sleep, he fired up a blunt and cracked open another can of brew.