The Streets Keep Calling (2 page)

No sooner than she'd turned around to walk away did the sight of her phat ass cause all the blood in my body to rush to my head, if you know what I mean. Just looking at this bitch's ass damn near made me dizzy. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close again, then whispered in her ear while I pulled her in for another hug. “Why don't you let me tap that for old time's sake? That would be a hell of a welcome home gift.”

“Psssh! Nigga, please! First of all, that shit you just said is corny. Second, you ain't hitting shit because you ain't got shit. I ain't the same little naive girl I used to be when you popped my cherry. Shit done changed. I grew up, you sucka-ass nigga,” Trixy snapped.

I didn't even respond. I just looked at this bitch like she was crazy.

“Yeah, that's right, nigga, you gotta get your weight up before you can even think about hitting this!” she said in response to my confused look.

“Oh, so it's like that?” I said, trying to register what the fuck just happened.

“Damn right it's like that,” Trixy said as she walked away.

I was in silence as I walked through the gates of my grandma's yard. I had to wonder how a nothing-ass bitch like Trixy could diss me. That was my first realization that being at the bottom and staying straight wasn't gonna be easy.

“Now, there's my boy,” my grandma shouted, causing me to divert my mind from Trixy.

I looked toward the house to see Grandma smiling. She rushed from the porch and hugged me tight. It was so good to see her. Throughout my bid, she and Moms were the only ones sending me holiday cards and sparing whatever they had to make sure a nigga had money on the books. That's how you know who your real peoples are.

“Grandma, it's been a long time,” I replied.

“You got that right. I don't ever want to see you behind bars again. You hear me?” My grandma repeated the same phrase she had said to me so many times while I was locked up.

“I hear you now, and heard you every time you came to visit me,” I assured her.

Being locked in a cage for five years, I couldn't do nothing but think about how my life had turned out. At least I could say that one good thing came out of me going to prison: a nigga got saved. I had this prison mate who would drill me every day about the Lord. That nigga talked about religion so much we started calling him Moses. Man, it was Moses who brought me through some of my roughest moments during my bid. It came to a point where I couldn't keep denying that nigga when he would tell me to come to the prison church with him. It took a little while, and a lot of rejections from me, but once he finally got me to start going, I really got into it. The more I learned about Jesus and the Bible, I began to realize that Jesus had a soldier's heart. He was real gangster. What other nigga you know would walk up in the gambling spot, flipping over tables and demanding respect? Only a true gangster would have the balls to do something like that.

Once I was baptized, Moses made me a necklace with a cross as a constant reminder of my newfound love for Christ. I hadn't taken it off since. Matter of fact, the night before I was released I couldn't sleep, so I said a little prayer. I made a personal vow to God that if He would just help me live right and get my family back, then I would stay away from the game and never ever return to prison again.

As I sat and chatted with my grandma, the house phone rang.

“Baby, it's for you.” Ma pointed to me with the phone.

“Who is it?” I inquired, surprised. Hell, I hadn't even been home a whole hour. I wondered who would know that I had hit the bricks already.

“That mixed-breed bitch.” My heart started pounding as I registered what my moms was saying. I didn't know whether to start cursing Maria's ass out for hanging me out to dry while I was locked up and keeping me away from my kids, or to let her know how much I loved and missed her. Truth was, I was mad at her for a couple of years after she cut off all communication with me, but as time passed, I really missed my wife and kids. When it came down to it, I loved the shit outta that bitch. Even with the news about her selling my house, I was still willing to get past all of it just to be with my family again.

“Talk nice to her so she will let you see the kids. It would be nice to see my grandbabies. Maria stopped coming around years ago,” moms whispered as she handed me the phone.

“Hello,” I greeted her.

“Oh, so it is true. The almighty Breeze has been released from prison.”

“You got a motherfucking nerve to be—” I began to shout before being cut off.

“Now, listen up, my soon-to-be ex-husband, I didn't call to get a sermon from you about how you feel. I called to let you know how things are going to be. I want to make a proposal to you,” Maria offered.

“Yeah, I'm listening.” I responded in a low tone because I didn't want her to hang up on me.

“These days, I know you're short on cash, so I'm willing to give you two thousand dollars to sign over your parental rights. My soon-to-be husband and I would like him to have custody of the kids. You and I both know who's been taking care of them all these years,” she said.

My blood was boiling as I listened to her speak. “If you think I'm going to give up my rights—” I screamed before being cut off again.

“You're yelling. That's not something I'm willing to tolerate. Think about it and get back to me.”

“Can I talk to my kids?” I asked calmly.

“No,” Maria responded, and hung the phone up in my ear.

“No, this motherfucking bitch didn't just hang up the fucking phone on me!” I yelled. I checked the caller ID, but Maria had blocked it. I threw the cordless phone across the room. Lucky for Maria, she wasn't in front of me saying that shit. I would have grabbed her by the neck and squeezed every bit of life from her. I wanted to kick the wall in. One thing about Maria, she always knew how to get under my skin.

“Breeze, calm down, baby. You gon' make that little girl send you back to prison. Now I know you have plans to hit the streets celebrating with your friends or something. Why don't you do that? Have yourself a little fun, baby!” Grandma said, trying to lighten up my mood.

“Yeah, you're right, Grandma. I do have plans,” I lied, then I directed my attention to my mother. “Ma, can I hold something until later?”

“Until later? Where you gonna get it from to get it to me later? All I have to give you is twenty, because money is tight around here and we need every dollar. Besides, if you had left some of your money with me instead of that money-hungry bitch, you wouldn't have this problem.” My moms always seemed to find a way to tie Maria into every conversation.

“Chill, Ma, why you always gotta start talking a whole bunch of mess?” I questioned as I reached for the money. I felt like a thirteen-year-old begging his moms for allowance. I couldn't believe this was what my life had come down to. “Ladies, I will be back in a couple of hours.” I kissed them both on the cheek, then I walked out of the house feeling like a bum-ass nigga.

My first thought was to go get some trees, but I knew I'd have to see my parole officer first thing the next morning. I had to settle for liquor instead. With that decided, I headed for the liquor store. While walking I was deep in thought. The conversation I'd just had with Maria kept playing in my head.
I can't believe this bitch tried to get me to sell my kids for two grand.
The thought of that shit pissed me off all over again.

“Breeze!” I heard somebody calling out my name. I was about to turn to see who it was, but then I kept walking when I realized this was the same fucking voice that had dissed me earlier.

“Nigga, I know you hear me calling you!” the voice shouted even louder.

I stopped in my tracks and turned around. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Calm down, hothead! I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier,” Trixy stated.

“Apologize for what? You say what you mean and you mean what you say, right?” I said, not giving much credit to her statement.

“Nah, I ain't mean to do you like that. It's just that niggas that ain't about nothing be coming at me all day saying dumb shit, so snapping off comes second nature to me. You feel me?” she said while she played with her hands and avoided making eye contact with me.

“A'ight shorty, everything good. I'm going down the block.” I attempted to end the conversation.

“Damn, you just got home. You trying to stand on the corner with your niggas already?”

“What? Nah, I ain't on that shit right now. I'm just trying to clear my head right now. I'm headed to the liquor store.”

“For real? Can you bring me back something?” Trixy asked.

“And me too,” a little voice chimed in.

I looked to my right to see a little boy running up to Trixy. “Who's that, Momma?” he asked while pointing at me, then continued, “Is this my daddy or something?” He looked like a little gangster.

“Boy, get your little behind out of here!” Trixy commanded. “You need to stay out of grown folk's business! Didn't I tell you your daddy was in the Navy and that's why he's always gone? Now this here is Mr. Breeze. He is an old friend,” Trixy explained.

“Well, why I ain't never seen you before?” the little runt asked me.

“I probably been in jail your whole life. How old are you, little nigga?” I asked.

“Six!” he said proudly, with his chest out.

“And what's your name?”

“Junior,” he responded with a hint of attitude in his voice.

“A'ight, little man. I'll holla at you.” I watched him as he walked off, heading toward the rec center. Little nigga had a confident swagger that reminded me of a younger me. I quickly shook my head to clear my thoughts, and turned back toward Trixy. “What you drinking?”

“Bacardi rum Bahama Mama the 1.75, liter bottle,” she quoted like she worked for the ABC store or something.

“A'ight, I got you,” I said as I continued to the store.

My thoughts went back to Junior as I walked away. I kind of felt bad for the little dude. I knew Trixy probably had no fucking idea who his daddy really was. The crazy thing was how the little nigga kind of favored me.
Naw, couldn't be. That's all I need is a little soldier I don't know about,
I thought as I got closer to the store.

 

Once in the store I searched for Trixy's liquor. I grabbed it, then grabbed a small bottle of Hennessy and headed to the register.

“Twenty-eight dollars and thirty-two cents,” the cashier stated.

Oh, shit! I ain't got but twenty dollars
, I thought as I looked at the total on the register to confirm what I'd just heard. Embarrassed, I had to tell the cashier lady I only wanted the Bahama Mama. There was no way I could go back to the house without Trixy's drink. Minutes later I was near her crib.

“That was quick,” she yelled as I walked up.

“Here you go. That's a big bottle for such a small lady.” I handed Trixy her bottle.

“So what you get for yourself?” Trixy asked, noticing I was empty-handed.

“Nothing. I'm good,” I lied. I didn't want to tell her how bad I really needed a drink but couldn't afford it.

“Nah, I can't drink alone. I'll be right back.” Trixy disappeared through the barred storm door of her house. Moments later, she returned with a glass filled with ice and another glass filled with ice and a dark liquid. “Here. This is for you.” She handed me the drink.

“What is it?” I asked as I sniffed the glass. My nostrils filled with a familiar scent.

“Hennessy.”

Perfect
, I thought as I took a big gulp. The Hennessy burned my throat all the way to my chest as it went down. It'd been so long since I had some liquor in my system, I could feel the shit coating my stomach and going into my veins. Trixy and I sat on the porch and chatted as we drank. Before I knew it, two hours had passed and we had talked about everything from old times to who's who in the present-day drug game. I was surprised at just how much she knew. It wasn't long after Trixy had taken the last swallow from her bottle that she began to get a little frisky. Somehow I knew it was coming.

“I know you didn't buy yourself anything because you didn't have enough money,” she said in a drunken slur.

“Oh, yeah?” I said, taking another sip of my drink. Nigga was feeling real nice right about now.

“Yeah. If you didn't want anything you wouldn't have drunk all those glasses of Hennessy I brought you. It's cool, though. That's kinda sexy. You left your drink behind and bought mine.” Trixy came really close to me, then whispered in my ear, “Just thinking about that shit turns me on.” I could feel her lips on my ear, and the heat from her breath radiate down my neck.

Although everything in me wanted to grab her, lay her across the porch, rip off her clothes, and fuck the shit out of her, there was no way I was gonna give this girl another chance to diss me. So I looked at her out the corner of my eye, then turned my head like what she did had no effect on me at all.

“Just in case you didn't understand the message behind what I was saying, translation: my pussy is wet. You can't ignore this for long,” Trixy said as she turned around, placed her ass directly in my face, then headed toward the front door.

It took everything in me not to pounce on that ass right away, but I knew I had to play it cool and make her wait a little bit. After about a minute flat, I couldn't hold out any longer and had to give in. Still refusing to run after her, I got up and took another thirty seconds to stroll toward where she was standing. As I got closer, she turned around, and I was immediately hypnotized by her booty. I found myself walking in a trance-like state right behind Trixy and that irresistible ass of hers.

“I thought you would see it my way.” She smiled as she opened the door.