In Love with a Thug by Reginald L. Hall Page A

bet. You must really know how to throw down in the kitchen, huh?” he said, laughing.
    â€œI do aiight. I ain’t no Betty Crocker or nuffin’ like that,” I responded.
    â€œAiight, well, do this. Give me ya address and I’ll be there in like an hour. I gotta go handle sumthin’ real quick.”
    I quickly gave him my address and told him to have the lady downstairs buzz me when he arrived. I threw the phone on the couch and rushed into the kitchen to find a pot to boil some water. It wasn’t enough time to thaw out the ground beef so I jumped in my car and hurried down the street to the supermarket. Am I going out of my mind?
    I was sitting there in my living room feeling sorry for myself and now I was about to fix a nigga who I don’t even know something to eat. What state of mind was I in to be giving him my address and telling him I would cook for him? For all I knew he could be a mass murderer. Juan, you just need to think. Take a minute and think.
    The gun that was placed under my bed some time ago by Darnell was still there if I had any problems. My building was very secure if someone were to come and try to kill me. With all that at hand I figured I should be cool.
    While I let the noodles simmer on the stove I quickly jumped in the shower and put on some sweet-smelling oil to have the mood set by the time he arrived. Instead of wearing my usual jeans and fitted shirt I replaced the outfit that I had on earlier with a pair of black Rocawear velour sweats, a wife beater and a pair of Nike sweat socks with matching Nike flip-flops. I put my hair back into a ponytail held by a rubber band instead of a Scrunchie.
    Within a half-hour my creation of a meal of spaghetti was done. I turned the radio on and popped in Mariah Carey’s new CD and let number two play. As “We Belong Together” filled the air I poured a glass of wine to help relax my anxious mind. I sat down on the couch and listened to the entire CD. I must have dozed off for a minute because the next thing I knew the CD was not playing and the hour that Bryant had told me he’d be here had turned into three.
    I looked up at the huge clock that hung on the living room wall and it read a quarter to one in the morning. I palmed my face in my hands thinking how naïve I could have been about this boy. I was acting like a high school girl that has a crush on someone from the football team. The buzz from the speaker on the wall startled me. I got up and walked over and pressed the “talk” button.
    â€œYes,” I said, letting the button go and waiting for a response.
    â€œMr. Jiles, a gentleman by the name of Bryant Thompson is here to see you,” responded the Asian female voice on the other end.
    â€œThanks, Trudy. You can send him up.” After giving her the orders I ran into the bathroom to find the toothbrush and toothpaste to brush away any odors that formulated in my mouth while I was asleep. I brushed heavily and spit out the excess water into the bowl when the doorbell rang. I wiped my mouth and looked at myself in the mirror one last time before heading down the hallway to the door.
    I unlocked the door and there Bryant stood wearing the same gear that he’d had on earlier. His eyelids hung low as if he was super high.
    â€œWassup, shawty,” he said, walking in, taking my hand and balling it up and letting our shoulders touch. “My bad for being late. I’m hungry as shit. Where’s the grub?” he asked, walking into my apartment and looking around.
    â€œIt’s in the kitchen, I have to heat it up,” I answered.
    â€œDamn, this crib is bangin’. You live here by yourself or does your bitch live here too?” He continued to walk throughout the living room while grabbing his crotch.
    â€œNaw, I live alone,” I said, yelling from in the kitchen while turning on the stove.
    â€œOh, aiight, dat’s wassup. Can I sit down?” He