gotten stopped at least six times by some dudes trying to get in my ear before I finally made it inside the bathroom.
When I finally made it over to Mona, she was still posted up at the same spot wit’ a bunch of niggas swarming around her, laughing and whatnot. She was clearly lit up and feeling good.
“Girl, where the hell you been?” she screamed over the noise. “My cousin was just here and I wanted to introduce you to him.”
“I was on the floor dancing,” I said, fanning myself to cool off.
“Yeah, I saw you out there dancin’ with some square-type nigga. I was over here laughin’ my ass off, but then it got packed out there and I lost my view of the sideshow.”
I flicked my hand at her. “Chile, please. That bottom-of-the-barrel nigga was getting on my last damn nerve.”
She laughed. “When you didn’t come back right away, I thought dude mighta kidnapped you or somethin’.”
“Oh, please. Not hardly. But I did end up getting held hostage on the dance floor by this fiiiine-ass nigga.”
“Oh, for real?” she asked, grabbing her drink from off the bar.
I watched her as she took a sip of her drink. I swallowed, realizing how dry my throat was. “What’s that you’re drinking?”
“You already know, Thug Passion, baby.” I frowned as she glided her lips down onto the straw, taking a slow sip. I wasn’t really in the mood for Hennessy and Red Alize, but I gladly accepted the concoction when she handed it to me to taste until I was able to get the bartender’s attention to order my own drink. I took a long, deep sip. “Girl, slow down. That shit’ll get you right. Have you stumblin’ home.”
I laughed, standing in front of her, with my back toward the dance floor. “Yeah, you’re right, I better go easy. Let me flag down this waiter,” I told her, handing her glass back to her, “so I can get me a damn drink.”
“Girrrrrrl, all these niggas up in here, you don’t need to be buyin’ no damn drink. Let one of them standin’ ’round gawkin’ at that juicy ass of yours buy it.”
I rolled my eyes, sucking my teeth. When the bartender finally got over to me and I leaned up on the bar to place my order, someone stepped up in back of me, then pressed up against me. I craned my neck to see who the hell was all up on my ass trying to be on some slick shit. It was the sexy, chocolate nigga from the dance floor.
He gave me a crooked grin. “I got you, ma. It’s the least I can do.” I grin back at him. “What’s your pleasure?”
“Surprise me,” I told him, stepping aside so he can place the order. He leaned in and said something to the bartender while I glanced back at Mona, who was looking at me with raised brows, holding her drink in her hand. I turned from the bar. “That’s the nigga I was dancing with,” I stated.
She smirked. “
Just as I was about to say something else to her, he turned toward me and handed me my drink. It was in a hurricane glass garnished with a pineapple slice and two cherries. “Here you go, beautiful.” He flashed me another smile.
“Thanks,” I said, taking the drink. I sipped it, licking my lips. “What is it?”
He leaned in; lips flushed to my ear, and said, “Tap That Ass.” I almost choked. “Yo, you aiight, ma?” I nodded, taking another slow sip. “That’s wassup.” I asked him what was in it, and he told me it was a mixture of Hennessy, Red and Yellow Alize, a splash of cranberry juice topped with soda water.
“It’s good,” I finally stated. “Thanks.”
“So, I see you’ve met my cousin,” Mona said to me, grinning.
“Excuse me?” I asked, not sure I had heard her correctly. “Which cousin?”
“The one you weren’t beat to meet,” she snapped, laughing.
He laughed with her. “Oh, word? It was like that?”
“Yep,” Mona said, still laughing. “I had to practically twist her damn arm to come out. And look. She ended up meeting you, anyway.”
“Yeah, we’ve met already,” he said, grinning at me. “But not officially.”
“Jasper, this is my girl, Pasha. Pasha, meet my sexy-ass cousin, Jasper.”
He extended his warm hand and took mine in his, then pulled me into him and kissed me on the cheek. I almost fainted.
He stepped back. “So…you still not interested?” he asked, eyeing me up and down, slowly licking his bottom lip, then pulling it in.
I eyed him back real sexy-like. “Maybe, maybe not,” I stated, slyly.
He stepped back into my space, stared deep into my eyes. “Check this out, baby. Just like that drink you sippin’ on, I’ma be tappin’ that ass, all in due time. So I hope you ready for a real nigga like me. Enjoy the rest of ya drink. I’ll be back later to get ya digits.”
He leaned over, said something to Mona—who started laughing, then walked off, leaving me standing at the bar with my drink in my hand—dumbfounded. And that’s how it all began.
Crazy thing, that night my feet ached, my shins ached, and my toes were on fire, but none of that shit mattered. I had snagged the finest, sexiest nigga in the room.
EIGHT
“What’s good, baby?” Jasper says into the phone. He is extremely animated, and excited, for…I glance over at the digital clock…7:43 A.M.
“Say what?” I ask, wiping sleep out of the insides of my eyes.
“Yo, you heard me. I said Daddy’s on his way home to beat that pussy up, so get ready.”
I’ve heard him correctly, but it takes me a minute to finally feel the weight of his words. My eyes widen as I snap up in bed. “OhmyGod, when?”
“I’m outta this muhfucka tomorrow, baby.”
“Where are they sending you?” I ask, feeling my nerves unraveling. This is the moment I’ve been longing for. Four long years, I’ve waited. And now, it’s finally coming to an end. I want my man home; need him here, but…for some reason, I am not as excited as I had thought I’d be. Not as prepared as I should be. He tells me he’s being sent to Talbot Hall—an assessment center in Kearney, New Jersey. That he will be there for about sixty days or so before he makes it to a halfway house.
“Then you know what it is. Once I’m done wit’ all that assessment center bullshit, it’s on and poppin’. Ya heard?”
“I can’t wait,” I say, sitting on the edge of the bed. I pull the carpet beneath my feet with my toes.
“Listen, baby, I’ma need you to hit the mall and pick up a few things, then drop them off to me tomorrow, like ’round six or seven, aiight?” Before I can respond, he starts firing off a list of things he wants and needs. Five shirts, five pants, a sweat suit, six pairs of boxers, six white tees, a pair of Timbs, two pair of Nikes…
“Aye, yo, hit me wit’ some Polo and MEK joints, like in a thirty-four waist. But nothin’ too over the top, feel me?”
“I got you. You want the straight-legged or boot cut?”
“Whatever. You know how I do it.”
“Alright. What about the sneakers? You want two pair of Air Force Ones in different colors?”
“Nah, hit me wit’ some Air Max joints, and a pair of AF Ones.”
“What color you want them in?” I ask, deciding to finally get out of bed.
“I don’t care. Whatever color you want. Somethin’ hot, though.”
I laugh. “Neeeegro, who in the hell you trying to get fly for?”
