From the Streets to the Sheets (25 page)

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I took a quick shower at Chandra’s and slipped on a fresh pair of boxers and a white T-shirt. I always kept a spare set of underclothes in my gym bag, right next to my Glock. Normally, I wouldn’t bother showering at a trick’s house, but I had to meet my boys uptown and I didn’t want to ride all the way back to Brooklyn.

Chandra was stretched out on the couch, wrapped in a lavender bathrobe, staring at me though glassy eyes. I knew that look all too well. See, being a brilliant lover had an up and a downside. The upside was; the woman would always remember you and chances were you could fuck her whenever you felt like it. The downside was, a lot of chicks wanted to try and turn a good fuck into a potential relationship. I knew what was running through Chandra’s mind, and I wasn’t with it.

“You leaving?” she asked, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.

“Yeah,” I said, flatly.

“I was thinking maybe you could spend the night, and I’d hook you up with some breakfast in the morning?”

“Nah, baby. I’m cool. I just need you to lay that bread on me so I can get going.”

Chandra’s face took on a look of disappointment, as if I gave a shit. She got off the couch and headed toward the bedroom. Watching that phat ass move under that silk robe made my dick hard again. Shorty did have some good pussy, but I was straight about my cheese. Pussy would always come. Chandra returned a few moments later and handed me an envelope. I quickly thumbed through the contents and found five crispy hundred-dollar bills.

“The extra hundred is for making me squirt.” She smiled. “I’d heard about it happening, but I’ve never experienced that shit until tonight. Thank you.”

“Not a problem, baby.” I tucked the bills into my inside pocket. My work was done and it was time to head out. Chandra walked me to the door and I could tell by the look on her face she had something else on her mind. I tried to dip off before the situation became awkward, but had no such luck.

“Chocolate, I’d like to see you again,” she finally blurted out.

“Sure, honey. You know my rates, holla at me.”

“No, not like that. I mean, the sex was the bomb, but I like being around you.”

“Chandra, you got a man, shorty. I don’t rock like that.”

She folded her arms and balanced on one hip. “My man didn’t stop you from fucking the hell out of me, did he?”

“One thing ain’t got nothing to do with the other. You paid for a service, and that was that,” I said coolly. “Don’t complicate things, hon.” I could see the hurt all in her eyes, but I had my money and Chandra’s feelings weren’t my concern.

“So, it’s like that, Chocolate?”

“Afraid so, shorty. My show, my way.”

“I shoulda known better. You ain’t nothing but a ho!” she shouted. She was trying to get a rise out of me, but of course I was too cool for that.

“I might be a ho, but being that your money is in my pocket, I guess that makes you a trick, doesn’t it? Give your man a big old kiss for me.”

She shouted a few more crazy insults at my back as I headed for the elevator, but I couldn’t hear shit she said over the roar of my own laughter.

                  •                  •                  •

I steered my Dodge Charger up the Westside Highway, bumping the new Jim Jones CD. I fucked with the Diplomats. Though they weren’t the nicest rappers in the game, I respected their hustle. These kids had come from the same streets I was from and started a movement that was spreading like wildfire. I rested my head in Brooklyn, but I was still a Harlem nigga to the heart.

When I heard Teddy’s “Love TKO” coming from my cell, I knew who it was without looking at the caller ID. “What’s up, boo?” I said into the tiny microphone of my earpiece.

“Hey, baby,” Keita replied in her sultry voice. “I miss you, lover man.”

Keita was my boo. My down-ass chick that I held above all the others. Now, I was a stone-cold dog, but even a dog needed a main bitch. For me, that was Keita. I had met her about a year ago at All Star Weekend in Denver. She was with her girls and I was with my niggaz, but when our eyes met there was no one else in the room. We got to politicking and I found out that she was from the Bronx. We spent the whole weekend together and by the time we got back to New York I had already decided that I was gonna make her my wifey.

“I miss you too, my one and only,” I said, sounding like a real clown-ass nigga. I was a lion at heart, but when it came to Keita, I was a pussycat. As hard as I was, Keita was my only weakness. The bastard in me warned against it, but the heart makes you crazy.

“You still at work?” she asked.

“Nah, baby, I got off early. I’m on my way uptown to meet Benny and them.”

“I’m glad, sweetie. Sometimes I don’t understand you, Dante. You make good money at the car dealership, so why do you continue slaving for UPS at night?”

By now, you’re probably confused, so let me explain it to you. Chocolate is what my niggaz and these tricks call me, but my given name is Dante Burton. The part about me working at a car dealership during the day was true, but I had quit my night job at UPS months ago. I never bothered to tell Keita, because it was a good alibi for the odd hours I kept with my tricks. I’ve found that I could make way more money slinging dick than loading trucks.

“I know, ma, but you know a nigga gotta hustle. How else are we gonna get that big house?”

“Baby, you’re too sweet. I’m lucky to have a man like you,” she said in a most sincere tone. Sometimes I felt bad about misleading Keita, but whenever a bitch broke me off a wad of cash, my conscience flew out the window.

“You know it’s all about us, Keita. What you got going on tonight?”

“Nothing much. Me and my girls might go to Envy.”

“You better not be in there letting them scumbag niggaz grind all up on your ass.” I said seriously. I was very possessive when it came to Keita.

“Boy, stop acting crazy. You know I don’t know how to do nothing but the two-step.” She laughed. I loved to hear Keita laugh. It always reminded me of bells, and all things happy.

“I hear that hot shit. You just remember what the fuck I said.”

“Okay, Daddy,” she sang.

“You want me to pick you up afterward so we can go get something to eat?”

“No,” she said, hurriedly. “I’m the designated driver tonight. Tell you what, though, why don’t you meet me at my place and we can eat each other.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, thinking of her warm mouth on me.

“Okay, so I’ll see you later, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you too, ma.” With a great deal of reluctance, I ended the call. I loved Keita to the point where it sometimes hurt me physically. Damn this thing called love for making me so fucking weak!

My boys thought I was bugging for falling for a chick so quickly, but they didn’t understand. I had been with a lot of bitches in my day, but none of them ever quite measured up. They were always lacking in one area or another, either not being pretty enough, or smart enough. My baby girl was the total package. Keita was five-four, with medium-length black hair that she usually wore in a wrap, and honey-colored skin. Whenever she smiled, you couldn’t help but to smile back. She just had that effect on people.

Keita was an independent woman who got up and went to work every morning, and hardly asked for anything other than my time and affection. She was hood, but she wasn’t ghetto. I could have just as much fun with her at a black-tie affair as I could at a Rucker’s game in the summertime. She could move in either circle. My girl liked to go out and have a good time, but she knew how to conduct herself. Though I was insanely jealous, I never had to worry about her stepping out on me. It just wasn’t her way. Keita’s mother was heavy into the church and had instilled that in all four of her daughters. Hell or high water, my boo was in service every Sunday morning.

Having Keita in my corner made me feel like the luckiest dude on earth. Most of you are probably wondering: If this girl is so special then why the hell do I step out on her? To put it simply, it’s just the nature of my species. Sometimes the thrill of the hunt is even greater than the prize.

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Mochas was our spot. It had been since they opened their doors about four or five years ago. It was a small but cool lounge on Eighth Avenue in Harlem. During the week you could go there for drinks and possibly a comedy show, but on the weekends they brought in the DJ and everybody got their groove on.

It was a Friday night and there was a line of people outside waiting to get in. The bouncers were very picky about who they let in on weekends, and would send your ass home if they thought you weren’t dressed the right way. I gave a bouncer named Freddy dap and proceeded through the glass door. Though I was
technically
properly dressed, the normal rules didn’t apply to me. I was a regular at Mochas. Everyone knew Chocolate.

It was just after one in the morning so the spot was in full swing. There were beautiful women, single and in groups, scattered around the lounge, and thirsty men trying to pump them full of alcohol. I paused by the bar and scanned the crowd for my partners. It didn’t take long for me to spot them; sitting on a love seat near the DJ booth, trying to charm a group of young ladies out of their panties. These niggaz thought they had game, but they knew who the real Don was.

As I made my way across the room all eyes were on me. I nodded to a few of the guys I knew and flashed smiles at some of the bitches I had fucked. A time or two I caught sight of some nameless female that I’d probably slept with but hardly remembered, trying to get my attention, but I acted like I didn’t see them. I didn’t feel like the headache. All I wanted to do was have some drinks with my boys and chill.

I had almost made it over to where my friends were sitting when my path was suddenly blocked. The brazen young thing had yellow skin, and wore her hair in a straight weave. I knew her angelic face, but for the life of me couldn’t remember her name. Her ass was plump, but not large. Just enough to where it looked good. She stared at me with her bright green eyes and waited for me to say something. Since I knew that’s what she wanted, I remained silent.

“You can’t speak, Chocolate?” Ms. Green Eyes asked. The sound of her sweet voice reminded me of a string quartet.

“What’s happening, baby?” I grinned, but was careful not to give her a full smile. Though I would’ve liked nothing more than to take her in the bathroom and slam her pussy, I couldn’t seem too thirsty. I was Chocolate, and like the rest, this bitch would recognize.

“Oh, you on it like that? You can fuck me in a park, and then act like you don’t know a bitch?”

My groin tingled as my mental Rolodex finally placed her.

Shorty’s name was Harmony. I had met her on the side of the New Jersey Turnpike one night on my way back from seeing a trick in Philly. It was pouring raining and her car had broken down on the side of I-95. At first I was gonna keep it moving, but as I passed I caught a glimpse of those eyes and almost caused an accident slamming on the brakes.

She couldn’t thank me enough for coming to her rescue. A quick look under her hood told me that her alternator had conked out. Harmony found herself in a bind, but looking at that ass and those juicy breasts, of course I had the ideal solution. Placing a quick phone call to a guy I knew in Camden, I made arrangements for her car to be towed to his shop to see if he could get it running. The job was going to take at least a couple of hours, so I offered to keep her company.

I took Harmony to a restaurant I knew of located inside the Hotsheet Hotel in Camden, while we waited on my buddy to fix her ride. We made small talk, exchanging information about each other’s backgrounds and places of residence. Harmony was a registered nurse at Mount Sinai Hospital, and like me, a native of Harlem, 118th, if I remembered correctly. She had a quick wit about her and was very well read. It felt good to be able to spar with someone intellectual after having spent most of the day with my not-so-smart trick in Philly. Though we kept the conversation neutral, occasionally making flirtatious remarks, there was an obvious attraction.

After about three drinks I could tell that Harmony was beginning to feel it. It would still be a while before my buddy would be finished with her car, so I suggested that we go for a brisk walk to clear our heads. The rain had stopped, leaving behind a humid night.

I frequently came through the area so I was somewhat familiar with the layout. I led Harmony to an out-of-the-way park that was in walking distance of the hotel. As we strolled up the stone path, Harmony looped her arm in mine. She fronted like her balance was off from the alcohol, but her eyes were hardly glassy enough for her to be that drunk. I already knew what time it was, even if Ms. Harmony didn’t.

Our walk led us to an arrangement of rocks that were off the main trail of the park. The way the rocks were situated, there was a nook that had been protected from the rain. Harmony and I sat there and talked over a blunt of haze.

“So, what kind of name is Chocolate?” she asked, expertly blowing the smoke through her nose.

I shrugged, and said, “It’s a nickname that I got in college. All the girls used to joke about how sweet I was.”

“I’ll just bet.” She smiled, pinching my cheek playfully. “With the rain gone, it’s nice out now,” she remarked, looking up at the clearing sky.

“A night for lovin’,” I replied, tracing my fingers along her arm, barely touching her skin. I felt that telltale shudder run through her and knew that the gauntlet had been laid down. There was a moment when all sound ceased and Harmony and I just stared at each other. She opened her mouth to break the silence, but I hushed her with a finger over her lips. Harmony kissed it softly then began sucking on it. Feeling her warm mouth on my finger I imagined what her lips would feel like on my dick. My vivid imagination caused a small pup tent to rise in my jeans.

“Let me find out about that lovin’,” she said, looking down at the bulge.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” I said, placing her hand on my dick so she could see what a nigga was working with. I thought she’d pull away, but she didn’t. Harmony firmly pressed her hand against my crotch and gave a smile that said she was pleased.