Page 7 of Krist and Moanie
She was on her knees so fast my reflexes weren’t shit, mainly slowed from all the smoking I had done earlier.
“You good with that?” she asked, eyes going from my dick to my abdomen.
“Do what you finna do, ’cause I need my shit braided and got places to be.” This was nothing new. Shorty always started braiding my hair then wanted to teeter toward getting more. Not only did I not want anything serious at all; I damn sure didn’t want anything with her. How she fucked and sucked the crew then thought I was gonna wife her? Things didn’t roll like that and I damn sure wasn’t about to be the nigga getting serious with the slide. It was bad enough that she kept tryna play that “I want something more” shit with me. Why did it have to be me?
“If I let you suck my dick, don’t be back over here in three days talking about you need more, ’cause on my mama I’ma curse your ass out and have somebody else do my hair.”
She sucked her teeth then nodded. “I hear you.”
“Don’t hear me. Understand me.”
By the time she nodded, or at least tried to, she had a mouth full of dick. Besides the hair braiding shit, her throat was legendary around these parts and she knew it. With Sazzy, it never took too much to get me there because shorty was good at what she did. Shit, she was a fucking pro.
After my load was shot down her throat, she was finally able to focus on the reason I had called her ass here. My hair was already curly as shit; the last thing I needed was for it to be nappy and curly all over my head. I’d worn it in a ponytail for long enough after I took my braids down.
“You going to the party tonight?”
“Yeah, I might slide through.” I sat back in the chair while her heavy hands gripped my scalp.Who was I kidding? I had no intention of sliding through Jonas’s tiny ass apartment to sing happy birthday to him or anybody else. The spot was too hot, always, and the last thing I needed was to get caught up in something.
Not only that, but I promised Big Mama I’d stay outta trouble after I almost caught that gun charge a few months ago. Niggas needed a praying grandmother, even if she was thousands of miles away.
“You don’t never be down to party anymore. What’s up with that?”
I shrugged. “Got better things to be thinking about. None of that other shit is worth it to me.”
She sucked her teeth. That was an indication she didn’t get shit I was saying. Course it went over her head. Most of the things out of my mouth did.
“Well, if you come through, maybe we could chill.”
Now it was my turn to suck my teeth. “What I tell you?”
“That we’re cool and I’m okay with that. We can’t chill like friends unless I got your dick in my mouth?”
I was about to respond, but my phone vibrating in my pocket killed that. She wasn’t slick and I wasn’t born yesterday.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and answered. It was my boy Ben. Shit, when wasn’t it Ben.
“You at the crib?” he asked, sounding like he was out of breath.
“Yeah. Where are you? Sounding like you about to take a seat on the side of the road and pass the fuck out.”
He laughed. “Real fucking funny. I told you I was starting my fitness journey. All that liquor and fast food been fucking with me.”
I didn’t mean to laugh, but I did. Ben was always that nigga getting in on the health shit then giving up on it by the next week. “Yeah aight, you got that though.”
“We sliding by Jonas’s party tonight or our standing dinner?”
I laughed. Ben knew me so fucking well, shit, since his moms used to send plates to us when this was still Douglasville Projects. She looked out for us because she even knew my moms wasn’t shit.
“Shit, we’ll show face, then I’m hitting that standing dinner.”
“You know he be on some bitch shit. All in his feelings when he feel like niggas don’t support him,” Ben commented.
“That’s your boy, I just know his name.”
Ben laughed, which sounded like a big ass cough as well. “You know he still the pissy ass nigga from third grade. Shit, we all are.”
He and I talked for a while longer before hanging up. The entire time Sazzy braided my hair I just looked out the window, seeing everything below. The apartment building was ten stories up, not a skyscraper or anything like that, but just high enough to look down at something. When Patricia, my mother, died, the insurance money wound up in my account. Instead of having a funeral and proper burial for a junkie, I purchased a unit for us, making sure I never had to worry about where Jru and I rested our heads. The rest of what we had was paid for by me banging for most of my teen years. I didn’t do much now, but I could and would handle anything necessary.
