The California Saga (7 page)

My girl stood in the middle of the floor, a Kool-Aid smile on her face.

Although everything in me said, “Beat that bitch, stomp that whore, whup that trick,” like I was Terrence Howard on
Hustle & Flow
, I used every ounce of strength I had and walked right past her.

“Yeah, that's what you better do—Walk away, you little pussy!”

I stopped in my tracks as my girl's words pierced my ears. “Bitch!” I smacked her, and she fell to the floor. I yelled, “You ain't shit without me!” and proceeded to rip every piece of clothing and jewelry off her. Then I pulled her down the steps, ass naked. “And get the fuck out my house!” I pulled her out the front door and locked it behind me.

Once outside, I hopped in my car, leaving my girl standing in the nude as I pulled off. I sped out of the neighborhood and never looked back. My head was racing as I drove. I didn't know what to think. And the constant ringing of my cell phones was driving me crazy.

I looked at my phone to see who was blowing me up. It was my man Calico. Then it hit me.
Oh shit! I forgot to pay my tab! I know that bitch is tripping too. I did exactly what I told her I wasn't gon' do. Damn!

I busted a U-turn and headed back in the direction of the bar, where I arrived ten minutes later. I jumped out the car and rushed in.

As soon as I walked through the door, I saw Calico holding Ciara, whispering in her ear.
What the fuck y'all doing?
I thought as I walked up to them.

As soon as Calico noticed me, he said, “Touch, get your baby momma, man.”

As I examined the situation before me, I thought to myself,
What the fuck for? It looks like you got her right where you want her, nigga.

“Trayvon, don't need to do shit,” Ciara snapped. “That's why that bitch 'bout to get her ass whupped now . . . because of Trayvon.”

I was wondering how so much shit could happen in one night. For a nigga like me, this was unheard of, and I was close to becoming undone. No one wants to see when that happens. “What the fuck is going on?”

“Man, she tripping on ol' girl,” Calico said.

I looked over at Diana standing at the bar getting some drinks, oblivious to what was going on. I shook my head and pulled out a hundred dollars. “Pay my tab for me, man.” I handed the money to Calico. “And you”—I grabbed Ciara—“let's go.”

Ciara looked over her shoulder first at Calico then gave Diana an evil glare and grabbed my hand and came without hesitation. I wasn't sure what that eye contact with Calico was about, but I was sure gon' find out later. I didn't trust Ciara one bit, but I was more irritated because I didn't want Diana caught up in no bullshit because of me. I knew how Ciara and her girls could get, and I didn't even want Diana caught up in that.

I was drained as hell as I drove all the way to Chesapeake to take Ciara home. I was glad when I got to her crib. I didn't even park, I just pulled up in front and hit the unlock button, a sign for her to get the fuck out.

“Damn, you ain't even gon' come and see your kids,” Ciara spat.

“Don't even come at me like I'm some deadbeat dad. They should be 'sleep anyway.”

“So what?” She yelled as though I was around the block somewhere and not right in her face.

I wouldn't mind seeing my li'l fat rats
, I thought. I swung the car around in a parking spot and hopped out. Then I followed Ciara to her apartment.

As soon as she put the key in the door, I could hear the twins.

“Mommy's home!” they yelled. They ran and hugged Ciara as she stepped through the door. “Hey, Mommy.”

Kennedy was the first to see me. She yelled, “Daddd-dyyyy!” and rushed over and hugged me tight.

I picked her and Reagan both up in my arms and kissed them. “What y'all still doing up?” I said as I sat on the couch.

“Watching this damn Beyoncé DVD,” their aunt said, sounding exhausted. She'd been watching them all day while Ciara ran the streets.

“A'ight, girls, time for bed.” I held my hands out for each of them to grab one. As we walked to their room, Reagan said, “Can you read us a bedtime story?”

“Yep. What y'all want me to read?”

“
Dora
,” they both said in unison.

“
Dora
? Nah, she a punk,” I said to tease the girls. “What about Diego?”

Kennedy said right away, “Daddy, Diego is for boys. We are girls.”

“A'ight, a'ight.
Dora the Explorer
, it is.”

Once I got the girls tucked in and started to read Dora, they fell fast asleep. I looked at the time. It was already 3:00
A.M.
Since I was comfortable, I decided to get in a quick nap.

Three minutes after I closed my eyes, Ciara yelled, “Trayvon! Trayvon, wake up!”

“Yeah?” I wondered what the fuck she wanted.

“Come get in the bed,” she said, grabbing my hand.

I looked at the girls, who were both out for the count. I got up and kissed them on the cheeks then headed to Ciara's room. I pulled off everything, except my boxers, and lay down, and she slid in beside me.

Just as I was dozing off to sleep, I felt a hand glide against my dick. I turned on my back and looked over my right shoulder at Ciara. She was ass naked.

Although my dick was saying yes, my mind was saying fuck no! There was no way I could fuck Ciara. She was already a crazy baby momma. If I fucked her, the bitch would really lose her mind. In her mind, that would mean we were getting back together, and no way in hell was that ever happening.

“Come on, chill with that bullshit, Ciara.”

“So you trying to tell me you gon' lay up in here next to me and not fuck me, Trayvon?”

“Basically.” I rolled back over on my side, putting my back to her.

“Well, then get out.” Ciara shoved me with her foot, forcing me off the bed.

I wasn't up for another argument or fight, so I put my shit on and broke out. There was no way I was going back to my house. I figured my girl had probably called the police and everything, so when I got in the car, I hit Jewel up.

“Hello?” Jewel said in one of those deep-ass sleep voices.

“Damn, you sound like a man. I'm homeless,” I said, knowing she would offer her place.

“Come through, Touch. You know where the key is.” Jewel then hung up the phone.

I looked up at the sky as I drove to her house.
It's gotta be a full moon
, I thought, recalling the crazy night I'd had.

Fifteen minutes later, I was at Jewel's crib, knocked out in her guest bedroom. Finally, I had the opportunity to let my guard down and get some much-needed rest.

 

 

“Damn.” I woke to the smell of bacon and a growling stomach.

I dragged myself out of the bed and into the bathroom. As I stood in front of the toilet to take a piss, I looked down at my hard dick and wished I had some hot, wet, morning pussy to push it in. For a moment, I actually fantasized about ramming my dick up in Jewel. I quickly shook that from my head, flushed the toilet, and washed up before following the smell of bacon into the kitchen.

I walked up on Jewel as she chatted away on the phone. “You made enough for me, yo?”

“You the only reason I'm cooking, nigga,” Jewel responded as she poured the blueberry waffle mix into the waffle maker. “I don't do breakfast.”

“Damn, man! You always got that phone glued to your ear. Ain't you afraid of getting ear cancer or some shit?”

We both laughed at the thought, and I grabbed a seat at the breakfast bar. I listened to Jewel talk on the phone as I waited for her to finish cooking.

I heard her say into the phone, “What? Please don't trip. That is Touch. I told you we were tight. He's like my brother.”

I wondered who the fuck she was talking to. It seemed like we had to go through this same shit with every nigga she fucked with. Every single one of those cats assumed me and Jewel had something other than a friendship.

“Okay, I'll call you later.” Jewel hung up the phone.

“Who was that?” I asked, my face balled-up.

She smirked. “Your crazy-ass friend.”

“Who?” I wondered who the fuck she could be talking about.

“Calico.”

“Calico? Are you serious?” I asked, hoping she was joking.

“Yes, Calico.”

“I just saw this nigga last night. He ain't even say shit about y'all kicking it.”

“Yeah. We were together all day yesterday. We went shopping and everything. Which reminds me, I got the girls something.”

“And that nigga already tripping?”

“Nah, he was saying to call him when I was free,” Jewel said, already making excuses for him, “and he didn't know we were close like that to be spending the night together.”

“Yo, give me the phone and let me call that nigga.” I reached for the house phone.

“Ahh . . . no. Me and him ain't even like that for him to be trying to trip, so don't waste your time.” Jewel grabbed the cordless phone and pushed it out of my reach. “So what the hell happen last night?” she asked as she made my plate.

“To make a long story short, my baby momma fucked with ol' girl again, and the bitch went crazy. When I went home, the bitch had bleached my furs and was burning my money. So I released her from all the shit I bought, which left her naked, and I pitched her dumb ass out my house. I went back to the bar where Ciara was beefing with a chick I was hollering at earlier in the night. So I grabbed her and took her home. My fat rats were awake, so I chilled with them and ended up falling asleep in their bed and shit. Ciara wakes me up and tells me to go get in her bed. Then the bitch wants to fuck. Now you know the worse thing I could possibly do is fuck her, so I refused. Now she starts to trip, so I dip out on her. I thought the other bitch might have called the cops, so thinking the block was hot, I called you for a place to crash, and here I am.”

“Damn, Touch, you had a busy night. You're always gettin' into shit because of your baby mother. Why don't you check her on that crazy shit she be doing?” Jewel asked as she placed my plate in front of me.

“Ain't no talking to that girl, Jewel.”

“Whatever.” Jewel passed me a glass of orange juice. “Deep inside, I think you don't want her to leave you alone. You like the fact that she be going crazy over your ass.”

“Nah, man. I can't stand the drama.”

“So why y'all ain't together anyway? You never really told me the whole story, you know.”

“She fucked up,” I said, trying not to really go into details. “I could never trust that bitch again.”

Jewel really started digging deep into my business and inquired more, just like I knew she would. “What did she do?”

The truth was, that shit Ciara did really fucked me up. And that shit her and Calico was doing the night before was kind of suspect. It took me back to that shit she'd done before. A nigga was hurt and I hated reliving that moment. But I'd never kept anything from Jewel for this long, so I thought I'd come out with it.

“When I was locked up, she started fucking one of my little worker cats, a nigga I put on the corner.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. A li'l nothing-ass nickel-and-dime cat.” I shook my head.

“I can tell that shit really hurt you, Touch.” Jewel stared me in my face, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

“Look, I ain't never lied to you before, and I'm not gon' start now. My baby mother is the only chick I've ever loved,” I said, confessing my feelings for Ciara for the first time, “so you damn straight—that shit fucked me up when I found out she fucked my man. But, you know, it is what it is.”

“I know you still love her, and I know you love your twins, so why don't you just be with her and have one big happy family?” Jewel said it like it was an easy fix.

“Can't do it. I don't go back.”

“Nah. You just got too much pride. You know niggas would clown you.” Jewel's words were painfully true.

“You might be right.”

“I know I am. Just try it. You don't have to dive into it headfirst. Shit, what do you have to lose? I know you ain't trying to get back with ol' girl. She probably ain't even trying to fuck with you like that anymore, anyway. So why not holler at your baby mother?”

I let what Jewel said go in one ear and leave out the other. “We'll see.”

“Well, can we see my truck?” Jewel said, reminding me that I still hadn't brought her truck back to the crib.

“Oh, shit. It's at my mom's house in the garage. We can go get it after breakfast.”

“That's cool. I need to holler at Ma Dukes anyway.”

“Yo, I told you about that shit.”

My mother loved Jewel like she was the daughter she never had. For some reason, they clicked from the first day they'd met. Every time my mother would see or speak to Jewel, the first thing I'd hear was, “I really like her, Trayvon, I really do.”

“Don't hate because Ma loves me!” Jewel cleared the bar then walked into her bedroom. “Momma knows best, baby boy. Momma knows best.”

You might be right
. I reached for a cigarette then massaged my rising dick as I watched the silhouette of Jewel's ass bounce beneath her satin robe.

 

 

A week or so had gone and, for the most part, my life as I knew was pretty quiet. That silence was interrupted by a familiar ringtone. “It's your baby. Pick up. It's your baby. Pick up,” the voice from my cell constantly repeated.

I sat up in the bed and rubbed my eyes as I tried to figure out where my phone was. I finally found it on the dressing table and quickly flipped it open. “Hello?” I said through a cracked voice.

“Hi, Jewel,” Sasha said faintly.

“What's up, Sasha? How are you doing?”

“Not too good. I miss you, Jewel. I'm leaving today, and there was no way I could leave without seeing you.”

“Damn.”

Reality had finally set in. It wasn't until that point that I realized how much Sasha really meant to me. True, she irritated me at times with her constant nagging and the poor decisions she made, but she was still my boobie and I loved her.

“So that's all you have to say?” Sasha asked.

“No. Actually, I don't know what to say. This is all of a sudden.”

“Well, I already did a quick sale on my house, sold my car to a used-car dealer, turned off all my utilities, and broke up with Rick.”

“Well, at least one good thing came out of all this,” I said, referring to her breakup. “So what's next? You just gonna live in Georgia now?”

“I'm gonna stay with my mom, and dance in Atlanta. Hopefully, I'll get my money right and be able to get back on my feet.”

I tried to give some encouraging words. “Sounds like a plan. Sometimes you just gotta start over, in a fresh environment, you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I feel ya. So what do I have to do to get me a baller when I hit the A?”

“Oh, now you want advice from the gold-digging whore,” I said in a joking tone.

“Jewel! You know you're not a whore. I'm sorry for anything I may have said the last time when we spoke. I was angry and jealous about the whole situation.”

“Apology accepted,” I said, with no hesitation.

“I swear, that's why I love you so much. You have the biggest heart in the world!
Muah
!” Sasha kissed the phone.

“Kisses back at you, Boobie.”

“Okay, now to business. Tell me how to get my rich man!” For once Sasha seemed really interested in my advice.

“All right, listen carefully. Matter of fact, you might need to jot this down.” I laughed then continued. “First, you have to look, act, and talk like a top-notch chick. Your persona can't say stripper, groupie, or gold digger. Show that you are pretty and intelligent, not some dumb chick. You should familiarize yourself with upscale places in the area.

“Next, you have to know your target. You have to be able to identify real money, know the difference between dope boy money versus athlete, entertainment, and distinguished money. Don't be fooled by exotic car rentals, fake jewelry, and fake clothes. Men with genuine money are reserved and on the low. They have nothing to prove, and therefore they're not flamboyant, and never seeking attention.

“Once you've identified your man, you have to get his attention. Do this by sending him and his boys a drink. On your first date, pull out your wallet and prepare to pay. Although he will stop you, he will find it very impressive. If things go farther, when you're out shopping, bring him back something significant, like his favorite cologne. When you're spending the night at his house, tidy up a little, and more importantly, get up and go to work in the morning.

“Now this is the part where most women fuck up, so pay close attention. Play your position. I repeat—play your position. Know that you are more than likely not the only female in his life. Nine times out of ten, he has a wife at home, which makes you a mistress. Never compete with the home front. Don't smother him. You will receive monetary support and gifts for the lack of attention. And, last but not least, satisfy your man sexually. Have a huge sexual appetite, learn what turns him on and off, and be prepared to fill his every fantasy. You want to do everything that his wife or the next girl won't do. So if that means threesomes, sucking dick, licking ass or fucking in the ass, be prepared and willing to do it.” I ran down the dos and don'ts like I wrote the manual.

“Damn, it's that serious, huh? I think I got it, though. I'm gonna put it to the test in Atlanta. I'll let you know if it works.”

“It's foolproof, baby,” I assured her. “I promise you, if executed correctly, it will work.”

“Oh, I know. If anybody knows how to get a man or woman, it's you. Hell, you even got the power to get straight bitches.” Sasha somehow managed to turn this conversation around to talk about Shakira.

“Blah, blah, blah, blah,” I sang to cut her off. “I'm not trying to hear that shit. This is your last day here. You supposed to be over here fucking me like you will never get another piece of pussy in life.” I knew that would grab her attention.

“That's why I was calling. I want to spend my last hours with you. Are you going to come get me?”

“Is everything in order?” I asked, to be sure she had mended all her loose ends.

“Yep. They closed on the house today. The family I sold the furniture to came and got the last of it yesterday. I dropped off my truck this morning, and the boys have already made it to Georgia.” Sasha ran down everything to me.

“Okay, I'm on my way.” I hung up the phone, freshened up, and headed out the door. Thirty minutes later, I was in front of her house. Sasha hopped in, and I put the truck in drive to pull off.

“Wait.” Sasha placed her hand on top of mine at the gearshift.

I put the truck back in park. “What's wrong?”

Sasha didn't respond. She just stared at her house.

“Did you forget something?” I asked, confused by her actions.

Again she didn't say anything, but she did shake her head no. I had a feeling that something was really wrong. I gently grabbed her by her chin and turned her toward me. And, just as I'd thought, tears were rolling down her eyes. I didn't say a word. I just grabbed her and hugged her tight. I listened as she cried hysterically.

“This is my house, Jewel,” she said, forcing out the words. “This is all I had left. Now I have nothing, absolutely nothing. No car, no furniture, no home, nothing. All I have is a shitload of dance costumes and heels, and a single suitcase of daily clothes.”

Damn
, I thought to myself,
she doesn't deserve this
. I truly felt bad for her.

“Baby, I wish I could make it all right,” I told her. “Look, before you know it, things will be better. Just go to Atlanta and stack your dough. When you get a little saved up, I'll put it in the right places and make things happen.”

“Okay, baby.” Sasha wiped her tears away, and I pulled off.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized I was really gonna miss Sasha.

The next couple of hours were spent in pure ecstasy. Sasha had made me feel things I'd never felt before and in places I've never felt before. I'd never felt such pleasure in my life. She definitely left her mark.

As she was washing up to prepare to leave, I went through my dresser drawers and my closet and collected things I knew she would like. When she came out the bathroom, I had a number of jeans, dresses, shirts and bags waiting for her.

“Too bad you don't wear my shoe size,” I said as she looked as the things I had laid out for her.

“This is for me?” Sasha said in disbelief.

“Yes. I want you to have them.”

“Your True Religion, Joe's Jeans, and Rock and Republic? They still have tags on them!” Sasha said, still in doubt.

“Baby, it's all yours,” I reassured her.

“Even your Prada bag?”

“Everything on the bed, Boobie.”

“Damn!” Sasha rushed over and kissed me passionately. “I love you so much!”

“I want it back when you come back to VA, though.” I shot her a quick look. “I'm just joking.”

We laughed together.

The trip to the airport and the good-byes were heart-wrenching. I drove home depressed like a little girl who'd just lost her puppy. I turned on the TV and flipped through the channels as my mind wandered. I thought about all the good times and all the bad times we'd shared. I never thought I would miss her as much as I did.

My house phone began to ring, interrupting my reminiscing.

“Hello,” I said without even looking at the caller ID.

A male voice said, “May I speak with Mrs. Burroughs, please?”

“You have the wrong number,” I said and prepared to hang up.

“I believe I have the correct number,” the person said on the other end of the phone.

The voice began to sound familiar to me.

“Who is this?” I asked

“Mr. Burroughs,” he responded.

“Calico?” I said, figuring it could only be him.

“What up? How you gon' be my wifey and not know your last name?”

I snapped, “You never offered to give me your government name. I figured you would tell me when you wanted me to know.”

“Michael Burroughs. You happy?”

“Nah. I need a social security number, permanent address, and the name and phone number of your nearest relative,” I spat back.

“Damn. What am I doing, applying for a line of credit?” Calico laughed.

“I'm just fucking with you. So when am I going to see you? I'm real lonely right now.”

“I'll be there probably in a week or so.”

“What if I can't wait that long?” I said, just to see how he would respond.

“Then I'll come sooner.”

“Yeah, right,” I said, knowing he was just talking shit.

“I'm serious. I'll do whatever makes you happy.”

“Well, in that case, can you make everything right so my girl can come back to Virginia?” I said, really missing Sasha.

“Huh?” Calico was thrown by my request.

“My girl Sasha just left to go to Georgia. She had to move because shit was really fucked-up for her here. So she's going down there for a while to try and get things back in order. She just left, and I already miss her.”

“I'm sorry, baby. I wish I was there to pamper you. You want me to catch a flight tomorrow?”

Calico asked.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but you can't let nobody know I'm coming. Niggas gon' expect this to be a business trip, and my phone gonna be blowing up the entire time. I'll have to hide out at your crib or something, and we won't be able to hang out.”

“First of all, no one sleeps in my bed except rent-paying tenants. And, lastly, what fun would that be if we have to be cramped up in the crib anyway? I'd rather wait.”

“That's cool. We can wait. I was just trying to be there for you. And, for the record, I don't mind paying rent. How much is it?” Calico asked like it was nothing.

“My mortgage”—I put emphasis on the word
mortgage
—“is twelve hundred a month.”

“A'ight, I got you. Do I need to put down a deposit too?” Calico said, cool as a fan.

“I don't know. Maybe I should ask for a deposit, since you refused to supply information to put in a credit application.” I giggled.

“I ain't got no problem putting down a deposit. So when is my move in date?”

“We'll discuss that when the funds have been secured. I accept cash only, Mr. Burroughs.” I spoke to him in a professional tone as though I was a property manager.

“Okay, well, I guess we've got a contracted lease. You can pick your funds up at a Western Union in about an hour.”

“Okay. Bye”

“Gone.” Calico ended the call.

I watched the clock constantly as I counted down the minutes. After about forty-five minutes, I couldn't wait any longer. I hopped in my truck and headed to the grocery store to check on the wire. I filled out the Western Union form and gave the cashier my ID. “Do you know how much?” she asked.

Now my first thought was to say, “Did I put in an amount on the form?” Instead I chose to be nice and replied, “No, I don't.”

The cashier huffed and puffed as she entered the information in the computer. “Do you have the money transfer control number?”

Now this time I just had to respond, “Do you see one on the paper?”

The cashier must have gone with her better judgment and decided to keep any comments after that to herself. She handed me the money order and directed me to sign at the X.

I glanced at the amount. “Three thousand, umph,” I said to no one in particular.

The cashier counted out my money, and I pranced out the store with a big smile on my face.

I called Calico as soon as I reached my truck.

“Okay, it looks like I have a new tenant. When would you like to move in?” I asked as soon as he answered, pretending to be a landlord.

Calico played along. “When will the place be ready?”

“Immediately,” I responded, wanting him to come right away.

Calico laughed at my eagerness.

I figured, since we'd touched the money subject, this would be a good time to talk about exactly what type of business Calico had. Deep inside I already knew the deal, but I wanted to see just how he would carry it. I wanted to know if he was gonna be up front with me or keep playing the “I'ma-businessman” game.