Authors: Mike Sanders
Thirsty (10 page)
a word I’d just said. When he was satisfied that there was no stash
he exited the shed and was headed back toward the house. D.C. was
coming out the back door.
“Yo! You heard what I just said? A muthafuckin’ alarm is goin’ off,
nigga! Fuck dem bitches! We gotta go!” I grabbed Cross’s arm as he
attempted to re-enter the house with fire in his eyes. I managed to pull
him away from the door and gave him a shove, which started his stride
as we all fled from the large house.
When we made it back to the car we peeled out and made it out of
the neighborhood unnoticed. We drove back to Charlotte feeling like
damn fools because we knew we’d just fucked up what should’ve been
a sweet lick. I was behind the wheel once again as Cross rode shotgun
D.C. sat in the back. They were both heated!
As I drove, I was having mixed emotions about what had just
happened. I was angry as hell because we hadn’t come out of the house
with anything but a fuckin’ .25 automatic. But at the same time, I had
a little admiration for how much heart Tandora and To’Wanda had
displayed. We had underestimated those bitches and in return, they
had caught us sleeping!
It was unbeknownst to me to what extreme anybody else would go
to in order to uphold their respect; nevertheless, I could vouch for the
fact that those two girls were indeed willing to die for
theirs.
I had to love that. If one of my niggas would’ve looked closely
enough at me while I was lost in thought about Tan and To’Wanda,
they would have seen a slight smile spread across my lips.
gonna get at me. How’s my Chyna doll doin?” J.T.’s voice was even
sexier over the phone than I remembered it being in person. Since that night I had met J.T. at Nine Three Five I had wanted to
contact him, but I didn’t want to look too desperate or make it seem as
if a sistah was too interested. So I waited a while before calling. Sapphire and I were at my place relaxing and making plans for the
weekend when I’d decided to give J.T. a call. Sapphire was milling
about in my kitchen while I sat on the sofa sipping on an apple
martini, enjoying a nice little buzz. It had been a couple of days since
my brother and his crew had fucked up the robbery in Rock Hill; and
Sapphire was still a little tight because it had been her first time on
a jux and she didn’t get compensated for her services. We were both
regretting the fact that we hadn’t stayed around long enough to clean
out those chicks’ closet. When Monk had told me about all of that
gear we’d missed out on I wanted to kick myself in the ass! However,
unlike Sapphire, I wasn’t that pressed because I already knew
anything
was liable to happen in this game. Just like any other game, you were
bound to take a loss every once in a while.
“You tryna see me?” J.T. asked.
I thought back to the night we’d met and I was remembering how
smooth and sexy his Tyson Beckford looking ass was. How could a
sistah
not
want to see all of that again? Besides, how else would I be able
to get into them pockets if I wasn’t going to get with him? “We can make that happen,” I stated, using my sexiest voice. “What
you gettin’ into tonight?”
“Hopefully
you
. And I meant that in a good way,” he responded,
sure of himself.
Unconsciously, my body began tingling at the mere thought of
J.T. fucking my brains out, but I played it cool and chose my words
carefully.
“Okay, I can see that happening. We can get into
each other
over a
couple of drinks out somewhere.”
I was letting him know that I was only referring to conversation.
Seriously though, I already knew that sooner or later all of that chitchatting would eventually come to an end. Then more than likely we’d
end up somewhere messing somebody’s sheets up. However, I’d told
myself that I wouldn’t get attached to this nigga and I wasn’t going to
let my desire for a climax hinder my quest for cash. So, I’d made up my
mind to just tease him, please him and let Monk
squeeze
him. J.T. said, “That’s a bet. Just let me know when and where.” Just then, Sapphire entered the living room carrying a daiquiri she’d
mixed up. She saw me smiling and glowing like a schoolgirl while
twirling the ice in my glass with my index finger. She sat on the love
seat in front of me and looked at me with inquisitive eyes before silently
mouthing, “Who is that?”
I sucked the liquor off my finger, then raised it and spelled the
letters J.T. in the air. I saw her eyes light up and I knew exactly what
she was thinking. She wanted me to hook her up with the guy who’d
been driving the Hummer the night I met J.T. I sighed and whispered
to her, “Chill. I got choo.”
Damn, I hated match making!
“J.T., my girl wanna know if you got any friends?” I reluctantly
asked.
“Nah, but I got plenty enemies. Why?” J.T. laughed because he
knew what I was getting at.
“Where your boy at? The one who was with you that night we
met?”
“Oh, so you told her he was fine or somethin’, huh?” he teased. “No, I told her
you
were fine and that I didn’t get to see him.” I
lied.
“That was my cousin. Matter of fact, he sittin’ right here.” I heard his cousin ask who wanted to know who he was. Just then,
my other line beeped. I looked down at my phone and saw Carlos’s
number.
Not today,
I thought.
I’d made up my mind to stop messing with Carlos because nothing
prosperous was coming out of sexing him but a good nut. I was tired
of hustlin’ backwards and I knew as long as I continued to see him I’d
never be able to get over him. So, I ignored his call and continued to
kick it with J.T.
J.T. asked, “So, what we doin’? Double-datin’?” He had a hint of
sarcasm in his voice. I could tell the idea wasn’t setting too well with him
and I must admit double dating wasn’t what I had in mind either. I made it seem as if he’d suggested the idea of the double date.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea!”
“Nah, I was just say—”
“You were just saying it was a good suggestion also, right?” I looked
at Sapphire and spoke so that he could hear me. “J.T.’s cousin wanna
meet you.”
I heard J.T. sigh into the phone with a hint of frustration. I told him, “I know the perfect spot.” I paused and waited for any
objections. When he didn’t object I continued, “You know where
Skylar’s café is?”
“You talkin’ about that boring ass jazz club or whatever it’s supposed
to be?” He sounded slightly disappointed because I hadn’t suggested
somewhere else.
“It’s a
spoken word
café, and that’s where me and my girl will be
tonight. If I see you, I see you. If not, I guess we’ll have’ta connect
some other time.” I was being blunt but I definitely didn’t want to run
this nigga off.
J.T. thought about it for a minute, and then gave in.
“Aiight. We’ll be there. What time?”
I told him that Sapphire and I would be there at eleven and would
be staying until closing. He assured me that they would be there, and
we ended our conversation. My plan was already coming together. Sapphire left my condo soon after my conversation with J.T. ended
so she could go and get dressed. We decided to meet at Skylar’s at
ten so that we could get good seats before they got crowded. Both
Sapphire and I enjoyed hearing spoken word artists do their thing on
stage. Seeing it on television on shows like
Lyric Cafè
and other poetry
shows was nothing like being there in the same room with the artists,
feeding off their energy.
It was a little past six when Sapphire had left, so I sat around and
wasted a little time by playing around on the internet before getting
dressed. I went to Amazon.com and ordered a few books I’d heard were
“must reads.” I ordered
Ghetto Resumè, Trust No Man,
and a new joint
Thug Lovin’.
Those were just a few to add to my ever-growing collection. At nine-thirty I left my condo and headed downtown towards
Skylar’s to meet my girl.
Located on South Tryon Street near the downtown area, Skylar’s
was one of Charlotte’s oldest jazz clubs that had been renovated in the
early 2000s and transformed into a poetry café. Wednesday nights,
amateurs took the stage and did their thing. On Saturday and Sunday
nights the more seasoned vets along with a few celebrity artists made
appearances. The club was built like an antique theatre with tables
posted all around the stage so that everyone could get a clear view of the
performer. There were also a few booths just in case someone wanted
a more intimate setting. This Saturday night the club was packed to
capacity. When I pulled up to the entrance valet took the keys to my
Chrysler and I entered the dim café to look for Sapphire. I was hoping
she was already seated at a table.
As soon as I passed the hostess’ station I saw Sapphire seated in a
corner booth sipping on a tall, fruity-looking concoction. She looked
like a chocolate Barbie doll. I could tell she was trying to make an
impression because she was displaying mucho cleavage in a banging ass
dress that I’d never seen her wear before. She spotted me and waved
me over.
“‘Sup bitch?” I spoke as we shared a sisterly embrace. “Daaamn, I
see you are in rare form tonite. Lemme find out,” I teased. I was referring to the new dress.
“Oh, you mean this old thing?” Sapphire mimicked a white woman
as she struck a Tyra Banks pose.
“Yeah,
that
old thing. Gurl, yo’ ass is tryna catch. Just don’t forget
that this shit is only business.” I looked at the expression on her face.
“Lemme find out you really lookin’ for love.” I laughed as I slid into the
booth opposite her and waved for the waitress.
Once the waitress appeared, I ordered an apple martini and got
ready to enjoy a little of the show before J.T. would arrive. It was just
after ten so we had almost an hour to kill. We drank and listened to
several poets do their thing onstage while we waited. A few of the poets
were mediocre and one of them, Sean Ingram from Raleigh, North
Carolina, was good. But when my favorite poet, Shakim, graced the
stage, I was all ears because he always sent me home with something
to think about.
Shakim had been my favorite poet for over a year because he always
spoke about conscious topics, and things you could relate to. He
was a pecan-tan brother with neat, shoulder length salt and pepper
dreadlocks that accented his handsome, hairless face. By his youthful
appearance and gorgeous physique one would never guess him to be in
his mid-forties. The only thing that gave a hint at his age was the specks
of silver that streaked his dreads.
The cafe was dim and cozy with only the smooth sounds of the live
jazz band playing in the background when Shakim graced the stage and
took the mike.
He looked out over the crowd and smiled his signature smile before
asking, “Ladies, how much do you know about men?” He paused, then
asked, “And my men, how much do you know about yourselves?” Shakim grabbed the microphone stand and walked slowly to the
back of the stage and put the stand out of sight so that he would have
room to maneuver.
“This piece is titled ‘Men,’” Shakim stated, then commenced to do
his thing.
“
Men
...we are perceived to be a complex species, but in all actuality,
we are fairly simple creatures with a very simple mission. Although we
spent nine excruciating months trying to escape the womb, we end up
wasting the rest of our lives attempting to get back in.”
I heard a few closed-minded men whistle and nod in agreement as
Shakim continued to pace the stage and make hand gestures, emphasizing his point.
“We intend to accomplish our mission by
any
means necessary. We
even spit enough game to maim the lame and we prey on weak-ass
minds. Women find…it hard to resist us, though they try to no avail.
Egos swell—pride resides and we sometimes experience a chemical
imbalance that hinders our thought process when it comes to trying
to be monogamous. We cheat and they flee. Then we chase with haste,
without realizing it’s
their
time we waste!”
At this point I heard my sistahs agreeing and shouting “Amens.” I raised my drink as if to salute him and commented, “You go, wit’
yo’ bad self!”
He continued, “If we knew how to treat them, maybe we could
keep them. But we don’t, so we won’t. We tend to use, abuse, and disilluse them while regarding them as mere puppets on a string. Realizing
all too late that out of all things God ever created, the
woman
is the
most precious and the most beautiful thing! Instead of encouraging our
Queens to succeed, we’d rather encourage them to bend their knees
and
suck seed
.”
Shakim paused to allow his last verse to sink into the minds of
the crowd. I was yearning to hear more because the resonance of his
smooth voice along with his conscious words had me feeling like he
was making love to my mind.
“
Men
...a strange breed we are! The undisputed champion in the
battle of the sexes. At least that’s what our guess is. We love to make
love, but we hate to truly love! We make up excuses and alibis to avoid
long-term closeness. Yet, we want our women to be devoted. We even overprotect and outright overshadow our women with possessiveness
and mind-blowing, controlling behavior. Why?”
He looked out over the hushed crowd, and then continued without
waiting for a response because he knew no one in the audience could
answer his question.
“I’ll tell you why! Because it is our primal instinct to assume we own
whom we bed. A way of thinking that’s
so
sad! But this assumption was
derived from our caveman ancestors whom led us to believe women
enjoy being clubbed over the dome and enjoys getting drug home. We
even practice the
club
and
drag
technique to this very day, only in a
more modern way.
“Instead of utilizing the club, we beat our women over the head
with manipulative, deceitful, misleading nouns and verbs. Phrases so
slick, women forget that they’re merely just words. We still drag them
also, though maybe not always in a physical way. We break them down
emotionally
, tear by tear, day after day!”
When Shakim spit this verse, me and every woman in the crowd
was moved by those words. He was verbalizing what we’d been silently
thinking for years.
“
Men
…Women can’t live with us and they definitely can’t live
without us. They doubt us; they love us, and they hate us all in the
same breath. Giving so much of themselves ‘til there’s nothing left!” Shakim stopped pacing the stage and stood in one spot for the first
time since he’d taken the mike.
He continued, “I know us Y and X chromosomes must share this
universe, so we should try to meet one another halfway. But which
one is going to be first? Which one of us is gonna take that first giant
step towards this thing we call
trust
? Hell, knowing me and my species
and how stubborn we are, I’m more than certain it won’t be
us
. Why?
Simple…’cause we’re men!”
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause as Shakim replaced the
mike stand and gave the host a brotherly hug while bumping shoulders
before gracefully exiting.
I was thinking,
Any man who is that in touch with his inner-self has
gotta be a bad mutha!
“Damn, that was deep. That shit was
so
true,” Sapphire commented
while looking around at the faces of the men throughout the room and