Flyy Girl (24 page)

Dave thought to himself for a second. “Yeah, she knows,” he said solemnly.

Patti never did come down to see him during his short visit. Dave would have stayed longer had she come down to see him, but he understood how she felt, and he wasn't ready to give up his freedom yet. He realized that he was being selfish.
But I'm still taking care of
the bills around here,
he told himself. Patti still would not allow another man inside of the house, and Dave's paying of the major bills seemed to serve as his psychological leash on her. As long as Patti continued to live there in his house, Dave figured he could keep tabs on her actions.

Tracy's father left after giving her four hundred dollars for Christmas and promising her brother that Santa Claus would put some big toys under the tree for him.

Tracy thought about her father's comments on good guys versus bad guys, but her mind was made up. She looked in the mirror again and decided that weak-minded niceguys were meant for girls of a slower caliber. She was not attracted to guys who didn't have anything going. It wasn't her fault that they were “slow.”
They should go after th
e
girls who are more their speed,
Tracy thought. Because she was in the big leagues.

Tracy came home from school and noticed Mercedes climbing out of the driver's seat of a blue Honda Prelude. She was driving, nineteen years old and still looking sharp. She wore a long black leather coat against the winter chill.

“Hey, girlfriend,” she called.

“Hi,” Tracy responded, hugging her.

“Damn! You got tall as shit!” Mercedes exclaimed, looking Tracy over. “And look at that
ass
on you, girl. Give me some of that.”

Tracy cringed. “Ill, you sound fruity,” she joked.

Mercedes frowned at her. “Oh, girl, shet up. I don't go that way. Let's go in your house and have some girl talk. It's freezing out here.”

They went inside, and Mercedes took a seat on the couch. She then opened up her coat, revealing a royal blue suede dress laced with gold chains. Tracy counted six of them, which doubled her collection of
chains. Mercedes had a new pair of gigantic gold earrings as well, and her hair was fabulously styled as usual.

“So what's been up, girl?” she asked Tracy.

“Your sister had a boyfriend,” Tracy told her.

“Get out of here,” Mercedes piped. “She did? What dummy would go with her?”

Tracy chuckled. “Some boy named Bruce.”

“How he look?”

“Oh, he's cute, but he was slow.”

“Yeah, he
gots
to be slow to deal with her,” Mercedes commented, taking out a pack of Newports.

“Yup, I liked him at first, but after I seen how stupid he was, that was it,” Tracy added, not saying anything about Mercedes smoking in her house.

Mercedes took her first drag and puff. Then she asked, “So who you been seeing, girlfriend, 'cause I know you gave up them panties by now?”

Tracy answered bashfully but proud, “The only one who got some was this boy named Victor.”

Mercedes' eyes lit up. “Victor Hinson?” she asked excitedly.

“Yeah, how you know?”

Mercedes chuckled through the smoke. “I used to mess wit' his older brother,” she answered. “So little Victor was takin' it to you, hunh?”

Tracy admitted through a smile, “Yeah.”

“Well, did you get anything from him?”

“What 'chew mean by that?”

“I mean, did he give you some gear, some money or
something.
I know you didn't just
give him the pussy
for free, did you?”

Tracy answered, feeling ashamed, as if she should have
known
better, “Oh, well, he just got what he wanted and left.”

“Girl, what did I tell you before?” Mercedes said, seriously. “Do you smoke?” she quizzed.

“No,” Tracy snapped, not caring what Mercedes felt about it. Tracy didn't like cigarettes, and neither of her parents smoked.

Mercedes puffed her cigarette with dark slit eyes, dressed to kill and
sparkling with gold. She tossed out her gold-ringed, cigarette-holding hand and ran down the game from the girl side of things. “I told you, don't give them
nothin'
unless they got something to give you. Now I know Victor is a suave young-boy and all, but you won't get nothin' out of it, 'cause I had his older brother, and I know. They some stingy motherfuckers. Half the time, girls end up buying them shit.

“Now what you do is get a nice-looking nut dude with some money and romance his ass. If you can get somethin' without doing anything with him, then do it. But if you can't, then make sure you play with his mind real good before you do. 'Cause see, a lot of guys are stingy until you give them some pussy. But once you do, they start actin' dumb, all in love and shit.”

Mercedes straightened out a few of the gold rings on her fingers. “But watch out for the hustlers though, 'cause they'll try to hurt you.”

“What about getting pregnant and stuff?” Tracy asked, thinking about what her father had warned.

Mercedes dug into her bag and pulled out a plastic case. “These are birth control pills. You just take one of these every day.” She then wrote a number down on a piece of paper. “You go into this clinic and they'll give you the right dosage for your body and stuff. And it's all confidential,” she added. Mercedes gave Tracy the number. Tracy immediately thought about Bruce, plotting to seduce him.

“Hi, mom,” Mercedes said, as her mother opened the door.

Beth's eyes ballooned. “Where have you been?” she queried, hugging her daughter excitedly. Mercedes had chosen to live on the wrong side of the tracks, but she was still her Mother's first child.

“I've been around, but I've been busy.”

Raheema came out from the kitchen and listened in from the dining room.

“Well, what have you been up to?” Beth asked, stepping back to take a look at Mercedes, whom she had not seen in six months.

“I got a job at Mellon Bank. And right now I'm living with this guy who's in law school.”

“Law school? Well, that's great! Do you plan to get married to him?”

“I mean, we'll have to see what happens. He may not want me after he finishes school. You know how these sorry niggas out here get. But how've you been doing, mom?” Mercedes asked, changing the subject.

“I've been hangin' in there, you know.”

“How's Ms. Patti doin'? I forgot to ask Tracy while I was over there?”

“She's just fine. Everybody's fine,” Beth said. She looked over at her younger daughter and wished the two of them could settle their differences. “Raheema, get on over here and say ‘hi' to your sister, girl.”

Raheema got up, hesitantly, and walked over to them. She had been feeling lonely since Bruce had stopped coming around, and she had been thinking about Mercedes.
She's still my sister,
she told herself.

Mercedes squealed, “Whaaat? My little sister wants to hug me and shit. This
must
be Christmastime!”

Beth was glad the fighting was over.

Mercedes said, “Well, since
we've
made up, then I guess it's okay if I ask about the old man. So how is he doin'?”

“Well, you should wait and see him. I know he's just dying to lay his eyes on you,” Beth suggested.

“I'll tell you what, mom, I'll come back tomorrow and see him. 'Cause tomorrow is Friday, and I still have some things to do,” Mercedes responded, ready to leave back out. She never did stay long. Spending too much time in that house seemed to bring back depressing memories.

Raheema and Beth watched her car as she pulled off.

Raheema asked, “What do you think, mom?”

“She's doing all right, honey.”

“Do you think she's telling the truth about that lawyer guy?”

“Well, it doesn't really matter, honey, as long as she's alive and well.”

Beth closed the door as they walked back inside.

•    •    •

Bruce and Bucky got ready for another party. The local YMCA on Greene Street, off of Chelten Avenue, was being rented out. Bucky took all day, while Bruce was dressed in an hour. They expected to “rack-up,” or in other words, to collect many phone numbers that night.

Bruce wore new, gold-framed Neostyle glasses that cost over a hundred and fifty dollars. He spent money recklessly, but usually it was only on himself. Bucky called him “a stingy muthafucka.”

They were on their way, both wearing expensive black leather bombers. When they had arrived, crowds were packed outside, as they greeted and shook the hands of all the people they knew, while setting up to romance pretty girls.

Girls stared at Bruce, and he felt lucky as they paid their three dollars and walked inside. He moved over to a sexy, big-butted girl and asked her to dance. She looked at him as if she was in love and agreed to it. She then moved in closer to him as the DJ mixed The Boogie Boys' hit rap song, “Fly Girl.”

Bruce smiled. “I guess this means you like me, hunh?”

“I guess it does.”

“What's your name?” he asked.

“Joseline,” the sexy, big-butted girl told him.

“That's a pretty one.”

“I know. But what's yours?”

“Bruce.”

Joseline squeezed his behind as they danced. “You got a girlfriend, Bruce?”

“Not at the moment, but I do want your phone number.” Bruce's private was getting harder and harder.

Joseline whispered, squeezing his behind again, “I'll give it to you, if you promise to give me some.”

She was too aggressive and downright nasty for Bruce's taste. They continued to dance until the DJ mixed in “The Show,” by Slick Rick
and Doug E. Fresh. The place rocked with one of the most popular rap tunes, but they then decided to take a break as Joseline wrote her number down. Bruce left her and went to the other side of the room to get another number, thinking that he was
the shit.

Bruce asked a sharply dressed, dark-skinned girl, “Ay pretty, you wanna dance?” She gave her Gucci bag to her girlfriend and started to dance with him without a word. She kept her distance and did “The Wop.” She then turned around and moved closer to him, as he leaned up against her. Bruce soon turned to avoid it though, tired of having a hard-on.

After a while, Bruce grew weary of dancing. “Ay look, let's go over here so I can talk to you right quick,” he said suddenly. He pointed to some chairs, off to the corner of the large gym. The girl retrieved her Gucci bag from her girlfriends and decided to oblige.

Bruce moved their chairs so that they faced each other. “So, what's your name?”

“Tasha.”

“That's a nice one.”

“Thank you,” she said, smiling.

Bruce asked, “What would you say if I told you I would like to be your boyfriend in the future?”

Tasha hunched her shoulders. “I'on know.”

“Well, my name is Bruce.”

She grinned and extended her hand to his. “Okay.”

Bruce then slowly placed his hand on her knee, while looking around the gym to make sure that Joseline didn't catch him.

He asked Tasha calmly, “Have you ever made love before?”

She lied and said, “Yeah.”

“How old are you?”

Tasha lied again. “Fifteen.” She really was fourteen.

“You got a boyfriend?”

Tasha finally told him the truth. “No.”

Bruce smiled through his gold Neostyle frames. “Well, you gon' think about
me,
right?”

“Yeah,” Tasha said, bashfully, believing that he was cool.

Bruce asked sternly, like he had witnessed Victor do, “So what's your number?”

“Five-four-two—”

“Wait, write it down,” he told her, cutting her off.

Tasha took out a piece of paper from her bag. Bruce supplied her with a pen. She then wrote her number down, and Bruce got up to look for Bucky.

“Look, I'll call you up when I get a chance. Aw'ight?” he told Tasha, strolling away as if he was
the shit.

“You better,” Tasha retorted playfully. She was planning on telling her girlfriends all about him.

While on his search for his friend Bucky, Bruce spotted Carmen.
Oh, shit!
he panicked. His heart began to race. If Carmen was there, then Tracy might be as well. He was not prepared to see her, especially while he was on a roll. Bruce felt inferior when he was around Tracy. Then again, he figured,
This might be the best time to talk to her. She'll
see how many other girls like me.

Before he could even look, a familiar voice husked in his ear, “Hi, Bruce.”

Tracy stepped out in front of him with a straight face, twinkling eyes and shiny gold chains, wearing an orange sweater that hugged her pert breasts. Her legs were slightly opened, suggestively, and Bruce was thinking about
doing it
to her on site. There was no way to get around her. He was shocked, stunned, dazzled and immediately afraid of her. He knew he wasn't
the shit
when up against Tracy. And she was
only
fourteen!

Bruce said, “What's up?” and moved past her nervously. He hastily entered the bathroom like a scattering alley cat and looked into the mirror, stalling for time. He wanted to talk to her, but he could not help feeling goofy and corny around her. Tracy had already told all of her girlfriends that Bruce liked her. The word was out, and he was scared to even look at her.

Walking back out into the party, he spotted Tracy's huddle of friends
waiting for him. Tracy was in the middle, like a football quarterback. Cool and confident boys moved in, asking her to dance, but Tracy turned them all down.

Bruce went over and asked someone else to dance, but he could see Tracy staring at him from his left side. He had a feeling she was waiting for him. He felt like a winner, deciding to keep her guessing; that way he would be in command.