street?”
“Whatever, Jefferson.”
“Yeah, I know.” He wiggled his neck. “‘Whatever.’”
Just the sight of a grown man wiggling his neck like a fagass around-the-way girl made Yuri laugh.
“Oh, you just jolly, huh?” Jeff said. “But tell me this: Is this new niggah fucking your mind? Because I never said you and Drae were sad-ass bitches. I said y’all was some unhappy-ass tramps. Get it straight.” Jeff took a pull off his cigar.
“Go to hell!”
“I just came back!”
“Fuck you.”
“And get infected?!” As soon as he said that, he hated he’d spat it out. Now he knew anything was bound to fly out of her mouth.
“You Uncle-Tom, low-self-esteem-havin’ niggah. Have you forgotten that your rotten-ass dick is the reason I had gonorrhea and chlamydia? Have you slipped up and forgotten that you were off fucking some eighteen-year-old-white-trailer-park-nasty-trash bitch, when you flew her to Aspen and had a skiing accident, where your black-ass balls split completely open causing you to be sterile? Have you forgotten about that five-year-old kid you have with that white bitch? The one and only child you will ever be able to make, cause yo’ stupid ass is sterile now?! Need I remind you that we were supposed to have a baby, but when it became my turn your nuts had been ravaged. You’re useless, Jeff. Get the fuck over it. It was bad enough your dick game was whack but now all you shootin’ is water. Go pay child support or some shit. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
Jeff knew she would come back hard, but this had left him damn near speechless. “Yo’ fat ass must be on drugs.”
“Oh, please, yo’ problem is you’ve kicked dirt on me and now all of a sudden you wanna be all in my chest, like a collapsed lung and shit. But if you know like I know, you’ll stop clouding my airway like you Mr. Fuckin’ Asthma.”
Jeff slid his tie from around his neck. He thought about laughing in her fuckin’ face and then slapping the shit out of her. Finally he knew he wasn’t crazy and all the thoughts running around in his head were a revelation: This bitch had lost her fuckin’ mind. Never, ever since they’d been together had she spoken to him like this, so he was convinced this new attitude was from fucking another niggah. Whispering freaky shit in her ear, playing in her hair, telling her how much he liked her and how bad he wanted to fuck her. Perhaps eating her pussy and sucking her titties like soft cream. Maybe, Jeff continued to think, the man was taller than he was, had broader shoulders, bigger feet, more money and most of all a bigger dick. Suddenly all Jeff could see was Yuri letting this new niggah have her spread-eagle.
Jeff jumped up and shook his head. Just as he decided to get to the root of this situation, Yuri shot him a snide look, headed toward the bathroom and left him standing there with lingering smoke rising from the tip of her cigarette in the ashtray.
Yuri strolled into the master bathroom, took her clothes off, stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind her. She was sick of Jeff’s harassing her about what used to be. Couldn’t he see that yesterday had packed its shit and left?
Yuri turned on the shower radio and to her surprise Davaad Levy, the station’s DJ, was playing an evening mix of Britt’s reggae. Britt had been singing since they were in high school and had had a record deal for close to five years, but only in recent times did his music career take off and get prime-time attention. Now he was on every metropolitan station, sharing airtime with the likes of Sean Paul, Beanie Sigel, Baby Cham and Beenie Man. And no, he wasn’t exactly rich—the fame always came before the fortune—but Yuri didn’t care. At this moment, if she couldn’t have the man she wanted with her, at least she had his music.
As she lathered her body with sour-apple sugar scrub her nipples started to tingle; she wanted badly to rub her fingers across her
“Whatever, Jefferson.”
“Yeah, I know.” He wiggled his neck. “‘Whatever.’”
Just the sight of a grown man wiggling his neck like a fagass around-the-way girl made Yuri laugh.
“Oh, you just jolly, huh?” Jeff said. “But tell me this: Is this new niggah fucking your mind? Because I never said you and Drae were sad-ass bitches. I said y’all was some unhappy-ass tramps. Get it straight.” Jeff took a pull off his cigar.
“Go to hell!”
“I just came back!”
“Fuck you.”
“And get infected?!” As soon as he said that, he hated he’d spat it out. Now he knew anything was bound to fly out of her mouth.
“You Uncle-Tom, low-self-esteem-havin’ niggah. Have you forgotten that your rotten-ass dick is the reason I had gonorrhea and chlamydia? Have you slipped up and forgotten that you were off fucking some eighteen-year-old-white-trailer-park-nasty-trash bitch, when you flew her to Aspen and had a skiing accident, where your black-ass balls split completely open causing you to be sterile? Have you forgotten about that five-year-old kid you have with that white bitch? The one and only child you will ever be able to make, cause yo’ stupid ass is sterile now?! Need I remind you that we were supposed to have a baby, but when it became my turn your nuts had been ravaged. You’re useless, Jeff. Get the fuck over it. It was bad enough your dick game was whack but now all you shootin’ is water. Go pay child support or some shit. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
Jeff knew she would come back hard, but this had left him damn near speechless. “Yo’ fat ass must be on drugs.”
“Oh, please, yo’ problem is you’ve kicked dirt on me and now all of a sudden you wanna be all in my chest, like a collapsed lung and shit. But if you know like I know, you’ll stop clouding my airway like you Mr. Fuckin’ Asthma.”
Jeff slid his tie from around his neck. He thought about laughing in her fuckin’ face and then slapping the shit out of her. Finally he knew he wasn’t crazy and all the thoughts running around in his head were a revelation: This bitch had lost her fuckin’ mind. Never, ever since they’d been together had she spoken to him like this, so he was convinced this new attitude was from fucking another niggah. Whispering freaky shit in her ear, playing in her hair, telling her how much he liked her and how bad he wanted to fuck her. Perhaps eating her pussy and sucking her titties like soft cream. Maybe, Jeff continued to think, the man was taller than he was, had broader shoulders, bigger feet, more money and most of all a bigger dick. Suddenly all Jeff could see was Yuri letting this new niggah have her spread-eagle.
Jeff jumped up and shook his head. Just as he decided to get to the root of this situation, Yuri shot him a snide look, headed toward the bathroom and left him standing there with lingering smoke rising from the tip of her cigarette in the ashtray.
Yuri strolled into the master bathroom, took her clothes off, stepped into the shower and closed the glass door behind her. She was sick of Jeff’s harassing her about what used to be. Couldn’t he see that yesterday had packed its shit and left?
Yuri turned on the shower radio and to her surprise Davaad Levy, the station’s DJ, was playing an evening mix of Britt’s reggae. Britt had been singing since they were in high school and had had a record deal for close to five years, but only in recent times did his music career take off and get prime-time attention. Now he was on every metropolitan station, sharing airtime with the likes of Sean Paul, Beanie Sigel, Baby Cham and Beenie Man. And no, he wasn’t exactly rich—the fame always came before the fortune—but Yuri didn’t care. At this moment, if she couldn’t have the man she wanted with her, at least she had his music.
As she lathered her body with sour-apple sugar scrub her nipples started to tingle; she wanted badly to rub her fingers across her
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