8
I slipped out the door and down the stairs. It was late, but D-Waite called and said he was downstairs and I needed to talk to him. I could tell he wasn’t one of those guys who liked to really talk on the phone so I came out to meet him.
“Hey, baby.” He took my hand and smiled down at me.
“You all right?”
“Oh, earlier? Yeah. It was actually a good thing.”
“What happened?” I asked and he gave me that look that said this was off-limits. “Fine. Keep secrets.”
“It’s not a secret. You know what you need to know and nothing more.” He leaned over and kissed me. We were both so busy grinning that neither of us noticed the guy on the bike.
“Damn, boy, you acting straight-up sprung out holding some bitch’s hand.” A guy with his hair in cornrows braided back rode his bike around us in circles.
“Go on, man, and stop playing,” D-Waite joked so I knew that this must be a friend of his.
“What, you gon’ be all rude and shit? No intros?”
“Well I’m thinking since you called my girl a bitch you don’t deserve to meet her.”
“My bad. You know how I get down.”
“Gabby, this is Taj. And Taj, Gabby.”
“Hey, Gabby. What’s up? I ain’t used to seeing my boy holding hands like in some PG movie.”
“Good-bye, Taj.”
“Folks are hanging in the park. Y’all wanna go?”
“Nah. Later, man.”
“We might come,” I threw out there.
“A’ight,” he said before popping a wheelie and rolling away on his bike.
“Oh, we might? That ain’t never gonna happen,” D-Waite scolded me.
“So you can hang out but I can’t?”
“I don’t want you around people like that.”
“People like what?”
“You know what I mean.”
“And what? I’m some fine china who can’t hang out with your friends?”
“You don’t know what they’re like. They can be dangerous.”
“Maybe I’m not who you think I am. You ever heard of Big John Thomson?”
“Hell yeah! Everybody knows Big John. He’s no joke. He recruited the guys I work for. Word is even though he’s incarcerated he’s not out of the game. They say he knows everything that goes down in these streets.”
“Well, he’s my father. So I’m not as precious as you thought.”
“You shitting me?” His eyes were big like saucers.
“No. I’m not shitting you. Big John is the other half of my DNA.”
“Wow! What is he like?” He was almost jumping out of his skin with excitement.
I had to glance away when I answered because I felt the tears stinging my eyes. “I’ve never met him,” I admitted.
“Oh, yeah, you said he wanted nothing to do with you? Baby, I’m sorry.”
“Well I’m not so sure about that,” I said as the hugeness of the revelation hit me in the stomach. I must have looked the way I felt because the next thing I knew D-Waite had his arms around me, comforting me.
“Baby. Talk to me.”
“My mother lied to me. She didn’t even want me to know that he’s my father.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. They were together all during high school and when she was in college they hooked up and she got pregnant. Not even that original.”
“And she never told him?”
“No.”
“So what are you going to do? I mean he’s a huge deal.”
“I want to dedicate my life to putting people like him away. To make the streets safe for kids again.”
“Safe from people like me?” He stared at me.
I leaned in and kissed him. I didn’t have all the answers but the one thing that I had become sure about was that I needed him in my life.
“I will take that as a no.” He laughed, clearly relieved. “Let’s go.” He took my hand and led me down the street.
“So we’re going to the park?”
“No!”
“But where?”
“Just trust me.” He squeezed my hand.
We crossed the street and cut through the park to the other side of Fort Greene. The upwardly mobile side where it had once been mostly Blacks had now gentrified us into the minorities. He stopped and glanced around as if he was afraid we were being followed. Then we moved a few doors up Portland Avenue to a renovated four-story brownstone. We climbed the stairs and he unlocked the door. We ducked into the lobby, then went through another door and up a single flight of stairs. When he opened the door to an apartment, I didn’t know what I was expecting but this wasn’t it. The tastefully furnished one-bedroom apartment could have been on Maddie’s block. It was an advertisement for Pottery Barn and the Apple Store.
“What is this place?”
“It’s mine.” He couldn’t contain the pride in his voice.
“But I thought you lived in the projects.”
“Everybody thinks I do. I have a place there but this is my home.”
“So what? It’s your love shack?”
“Nah, you the only person I’ve ever brought here. But since I’m falling in love with you it can be our love shack,” he joked.
I took a tour around. “I love this place.”
“Me too. That’s why I keep it private. I just don’t want folks up in here.”
“What’s this?” I walked over and picked up a guitar.
“You play?”
“Yeah, and I write songs.”
“So you’re a musician?”
“I guess but . . .” Then he stopped.
“But what?”
“I just do what I do.”
“Can I ask you something?” He nodded, so I continued, “How come since you’re obviously smart and able to pull this off . . .”
“I’m not in college? Or trying to make it as a musician?”
“Yeah.”
“I felt like I had to get out there and hustle for mine. I didn’t grow up with a lot of options and when I finally got some I didn’t trust them. I didn’t have anyone.”
“Well you do now.” I stepped close to him. For a long time we just stood there staring at each other.
“Cool.”
“When I go to college maybe you can move to Boston with me.”
“Boston! And do what?”
“College, music, me.” I planted a deep, wet kiss on him.
“This real?” he questioned me.
“It is for me,” I answered, meaning every word.
“Me too.” And we fell into each other’s arms, kissing and touching as if our bodies couldn’t get close enough. This felt crazy and wonderful and scary but mostly it felt right. I leaned against him, feeling his manhood growing to full size. At least I hoped it was because it was rock hard and huge. He led me over to the couch and laid me down. He kneeled down next to me, lifted up my skirt, and started kissing my stomach, working his way down my body.
“Aaah.” A gasp escaped from my mouth. I felt on fire with a desire I had never had before. This was what all the girls at school were whispering about, the reason they kept hooking up with guys who treated them like shit and never bothered to call them back or acknowledge them in public. Oh, damn I wanted him to show me everything that I had been missing. He took my pants off and let them drop to the floor. His hand lifted the band of my underwear and kept traveling until his fingers starting rubbing against my pubic hair. I started thrashing around, arching my back, lifting my butt cheeks off the couch.
“Wow! You’re wet.” He sighed as his fingers slipped inside of me. I writhed around, dancing on his fingers as they manipulated me until I felt like I was about to pee on myself. I jumped up, pushing him away.
“What?” He looked wounded by my reaction.
“I . . . I don’t . . . I was about to pee on myself,” I confessed, feeling completely humiliated. He burst out laughing, looking almost relieved.
“It’s not funny!” I threw one of the couch pillows at him.
“Oh yes, it is. You’ve never had an orgasm.” He reached out to me; his voice became soft as he enveloped me in his arms. “Gabby, have you ever done this before?” I dropped my face into my hands, avoiding his gaze. “So nobody has ever given you an orgasm?” The shocked expression on my face said it all. Now it was his turn to be surprised.
“You’ve never done it before?” My silence confirmed his question. “Never?” If I had been one shade lighter I would have been a bright shade of red. Luckily the melanin protected me from looking more embarrassed.
“Have you even kissed a guy before?”
“Yes.” I frowned at him. He didn’t have to make it seem so weird. There were guys who tried but I always wanted to wait for the right one. They all seemed so inexperienced and awkward or else like they were watching so much online porn that they were dying to shove you into some role and pretend they cared about your satisfaction.
“But nothing more?”
“No,” I admitted and wanted to melt into the couch.
“Oh, baby.” He kissed me on the neck. “We need to slow this way down.”
“No!” I balked.
“But, Gab, you have no idea what this means.”
“Why does it have to mean anything? You have sex with Mika all the time. What does that mean?”
“It doesn’t mean much but Mika’s different.”
“No, she’s not. She’s a girl you have sex with and I’m a girl you won’t have sex with. Right now I would rather be her than me!” I stood up, putting my clothes back on.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why? If she were here and not me you would fuck her!”
“But sex don’t mean the same thing for her. She’s slept with so many guys I’m just one of many, but you’re a virgin.” His words made it sound like some disease.
“Well I’m sorry I’m not as experienced as your other girls. I’ll go and fuck a bunch of guys and after I’m experienced I’m sure you’ll want to fuck me.” I laced up my sneakers, anxious to get out of there with an ounce of my dignity.
“Is that what you think? That I don’t want you? Girl, you can’t be more wrong. I want you. I want you in a way that I have never wanted anyone in my life.” He smashed his lips against mine; his hunger and need matched mine.