In Love with a Thug (5 page)

“Well, what kind of DVDs do you have?” I asked simply to start something. I knew damn well I really didn't want to buy no damn DVDs. I don't even watch TV like that.

“I have
Hustle & Flow
,
Beauty Shop
and a lot others. Come outside and take a look.” He walked over to the door and opened it. I followed as Ieshia rushed in.

“Hey, Juan, where are you going?” she asked, staring at me through her dark shades.

“I'm going outside to see what DVDs he has. I'll be right back.” I went outside and closed the door behind me. The spring air felt mellow as a wash of comfort came over my body. Walking him to his car made me feel at ease as the warm wind blew against my face. We came upon a green Ford Expedition. He popped the back door and opened it to find boxes full of DVDs and CDs.

“See, whatever you want, I got it,” he said, grabbing a handful of DVDs and showing them to me. I looked back at the shop to see Rob and Ieshia gazing through the front window smiling.

“Damn, your peeps staring at me n' shit. Wassup with that? What they think, I'm gonna kidnap you or sumthin'?” he asked, sounding annoyed. I stood there trying not to let him know that I was digging him. “Yo, check it. I don't like the way they keep lookin' at me so here's what I'ma do.” He placed the DVDs back into the box and closed the door. He went around to the passenger's seat and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began to scribble.

“Shit, this pen don't work,” he said, throwing the pen into the street and reaching back into the truck to get another one. I admired his biceps as he flexed his muscles, scrambling around in the console for another pen. After rearranging a few items in the console he found a black pen and began writing on the piece of paper.

“Here, take my cell number and give me a call lata. I'ma come bring the DVDs to you without all those kats around, aiight,” he said, handing me the paper. I grabbed it and stuck it in my back pocket as he ran around to the driver's side and hopped in.

I began walking back to the shop when he called out to me.

“Yo,” he hollered as I turned around to face him, blocking the sun from my eyes with my hand. “Don't forget, shawty,” he said as he winked at me, then turned his system up high, blasting Peedi Crakk's song “Gotta Have It,” and sped off. My heart melted instantly. I stood there for a moment reminiscing about how Darnell used to give me that same feeling. I thought,
he didn't even tell me his name. Does he even know mine? I'm not even gonna call him. I don't want any DVDs really
. I reached down into my back pocket and pull the paper out. Sure it was written B-R-Y-A-N-T. I smiled, thinking of the fact that I had the option of calling him even though I didn't think I would.

 

Tiredness overwhelmed my mind and my body. Today had been a very successful day at Ché Mystic. I had grossed about a thousand dollars alone so I was straight. Not to mention that I still had about $175,000 put aside in the bank for a rainy day.

I relaxed in the recliner that sat in the plush family room of my apartment. I leaned back on the headrest and let my mind run and exhale all the stress that had been brought upon me. My heart felt heavy once again as I continued to lie there and think about the man whom I once loved and who once loved me. I turned to look out the window at the night sky and watched every star twinkle in the distance. I closed my eyes to thank God for His many blessings and to ask Him again why did He have to take Darnell away from me.

My eyes began to water as I let a lonely tear run down my face. I could feel how sad I had become the day he'd left this earth. I felt depressed and not to the point where I needed to kill myself but to where I needed to live in this world alone. Through all my shame and guilt that I carried around with me for letting him die there in that bank alone, I needed something or someone to help me relax and stimulate my mind; not physically but mentally as well. Someone to stimulate me to the point of no return. Maybe I do need to start watching TV more often.

Then I remembered Bryant's phone number was still in my pants pocket. As I continued to sit I thought about how he'd left such an impression on me today. I got the number from my pocket and called him. I let the phone ring at least three times before he picked up.

“Yerp,” he greeted in a deep sexy voice.

“Hello, can I speak with Bryant, please?” I asked in a shaken voice. The nervousness sat so deep down in my soul that my underarms were starting to sweat.

“Who dis?”

“Ah, this is Juan. You came into my salon today. You were talkin' to me about some DVDs that you were selling.”

“Oh yeah, the lil' pretty dude. Wassup?” he asked as I almost swallowed my spit from what he'd said. He labeled me as the “pretty dude.” A smile immediately came across my face.

“Yeah, my name is Juan,” I said.

“Oh, excuse me, Mr. Juan. My bad if I offended you.”

“Oh, no, not at all. You didn't offend me. I was just caught off guard,” I rebutted.

“Caught off guard, huh? Why? 'Cuz I said you was pretty?”

I was speechless.

“Naw. I didn't think you looked at me that way, that's all,” I said with my hands shaking.

“Oh okay, well, I call 'em as I see 'em, that's all.” Once again he brought a smile to my face. “Listen, what are you doing now?”

“Well, right now, I'm not doing anything. Are you coming to my crib to show me the DVDs?”

“Yeah, I can do that. But first I have to get me sumthin' to eat. I'm hungrier than a muthafucka.”

There was dead silence on the phone. I didn't know what to say so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Well, I can make sumthin' to eat and have it ready by the time you get here.”
What am I saying? He gonna think that I'm some type of fag or sumthin'.

“Yeah, that's cool. What are you cooking?”

“I can whip up a pot of spaghetti, if that's cool with you,” I said, still shaking nervously with the phone in my hand.

“Aiight, bet. You must really know how to throw down in the kitchen, huh?” he said, laughing.

“I do aiight. I ain't no Betty Crocker or nuffin' like that,” I responded.

“Aiight, well, do this. Give me ya address and I'll be there in like an hour. I gotta go handle sumthin' real quick.”

I quickly gave him my address and told him to have the lady downstairs buzz me when he arrived. I threw the phone on the couch and rushed into the kitchen to find a pot to boil some water. It wasn't enough time to thaw out the ground beef so I jumped in my car and hurried down the street to the supermarket.
Am I going out of my mind?

I was sitting there in my living room feeling sorry for myself and now I was about to fix a nigga who I don't even know something to eat. What state of mind was I in to be giving him my address and telling him I would cook for him? For all I knew he could be a mass murderer.
Juan, you just need to think. Take a minute and think.

The gun that was placed under my bed some time ago by Darnell was still there if I had any problems. My building was very secure if someone were to come and try to kill me. With all that at hand I figured I should be cool.

While I let the noodles simmer on the stove I quickly jumped in the shower and put on some sweet-smelling oil to have the mood set by the time he arrived. Instead of wearing my usual jeans and fitted shirt I replaced the outfit that I had on earlier with a pair of black Rocawear velour sweats, a wife beater and a pair of Nike sweat socks with matching Nike flip-flops. I put my hair back into a ponytail held by a rubber band instead of a Scrunchie.

Within a half-hour my creation of a meal of spaghetti was done. I turned the radio on and popped in Mariah Carey's new CD and let number two play. As “We Belong Together” filled the air I poured a glass of wine to help relax my anxious mind. I sat down on the couch and listened to the entire CD. I must have dozed off for a minute because the next thing I knew the CD was not playing and the hour that Bryant had told me he'd be here had turned into three.

I looked up at the huge clock that hung on the living room wall and it read a quarter to one in the morning. I palmed my face in my hands thinking how naïve I could have been about this boy. I was acting like a high school girl that has a crush on someone from the football team. The buzz from the speaker on the wall startled me. I got up and walked over and pressed the “talk” button.

“Yes,” I said, letting the button go and waiting for a response.

“Mr. Jiles, a gentleman by the name of Bryant Thompson is here to see you,” responded the Asian female voice on the other end.

“Thanks, Trudy. You can send him up.” After giving her the orders I ran into the bathroom to find the toothbrush and toothpaste to brush away any odors that formulated in my mouth while I was asleep. I brushed heavily and spit out the excess water into the bowl when the doorbell rang. I wiped my mouth and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before heading down the hallway to the door.

I unlocked the door and there Bryant stood wearing the same gear that he'd had on earlier. His eyelids hung low as if he was super high.

“Wassup, shawty,” he said, walking in, taking my hand and balling it up and letting our shoulders touch. “My bad for being late. I'm hungry as shit. Where's the grub?” he asked, walking into my apartment and looking around.

“It's in the kitchen, I have to heat it up,” I answered.

“Damn, this crib is bangin'. You live here by yourself or does your bitch live here too?” He continued to walk throughout the living room while grabbing his crotch.

“Naw, I live alone,” I said, yelling from in the kitchen while turning on the stove.

“Oh, aiight, dat's wassup. Can I sit down?” He pointed to the loveseat.

“Sure, go ahead. Did you bring the DVDs?”

“Shit, I forgot them. They in the car, I'ma get 'em after I eat 'cuz a nigga is starving.”

I fixed him a big plate of spaghetti with the sauce deliciously towering over the noodles. He came to the kitchen table and sat down and we began to eat. I watched his every move as he slurped each noodle in his mouth. This nigga was turning me on.

“Would you like something to drink?” I asked, getting up and opening the refrigerator.

“Sure, what you got?” he asked, lifting his head from his plate and placing his eyes on the way my ass stood out in these sweats.

“What you want?” I asked seductively. He then turned from me and back down to his plate.

“Just grip me a soda,” he said as I reached up to the cabinet to get a glass to pour him some grape soda.

“Ayo, call some bitches,” he said out of nowhere. I was completely caught off guard as I tried to respond the best as I could.

“Who do you want me to call?” I said, sitting back down at the table and eating my food.

“Just call some bitches, do you know any?” he asked almost finishing his food.

“Naw,” I responded.

“How a pretty muthafucka like you don't know any bitches?” He paused for a minute waiting for the answer. I thought quickly.

“All the bitches I know of have boyfriends.”

“Oh aiight.” We both finished our plates. He then got up and ran down to the parking lot to retrieve some DVDs while I loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen.

By the time he came back I was done my duties in the kitchen and was ready to relax on the couch. He came through the door with only one movie in hand.

“Yo, have you seen Tyler Perry's
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
yet?” he asked, walking toward me with the movie.

“Naw, I saw the play but not the movie.”

“Yo, this shit is funny. Here, put it in,” he said, handing me the movie. I got up and walked over to the entertainment center where I placed the DVD in the machine. He sat back on the love seat.

“Yo, you got an ashtray?” He pulled a bag of weed from his pocket along with a Philly Dutch. I went into the kitchen to get an astray from the cabinet. I normally kept them for when Anthony came over because I didn't smoke. I handed him the ashtray as he began to roll himself a fatty.

By the time he lit the Dutch, the movie was just beginning. I watched as Kimberly Elise acted as stupid as she looked when she was being cheated on by that ugly-ass black man. The least Tyler Perry could do is have a cute man to play the part of her husband.

“Here,” he said, handing me the Dutch with swollen cheeks. I didn't know whether I should take it or turn it down. Then I thought of my life and how it never seems like I do much of anything to have fun. I took the Dutch.

I inhaled it and swallowed the smoke like Darnell had taught me. I exhaled, then inhaled again. This time I gave it a long pull. I felt the smoke clouding my mind as I began to cough a bit.

“That shit is good, ain't it?” He reached out for me to pass it back to him. I passed the Dutch as I tried to get my focus back to the movie. Out of the corner of my eyes I noticed him unbuckling his belt. I looked over to him with a confused look.