Daddy Long Stroke

The last message makes me bust out laughin’. It’s from Vita, soundin’ skeed the fuck up. “Alley Cat, call me as soon as you get this. Me and Naomi were here drinking and out of nowhere she tells me you tried to sneak in her room while I was at work. I told her she was lying. But she swears by it. I don’t wanna believe her, but she’s never lied to me before. And she really doesn’t have any reason to start now. So call me ’cause I need to know if it’s true.” Hell no, I didn’t try to sneak in her room; I did. And I fucked her down into the mattress. Mighty inter-estin’ the bitch didn’t say shit ’bout gettin’ fucked in Vita’s bed, but she tries to play me out. Delete. She wants the truth; then that’s the fuck what she’s gonna get it.

My cell rings. It’s Vita. Yo, what the fuck?! “Yo?”

“Did you get my message?” she asks, soundin’ tight.

“What message?”

“The one I left ’bout two hours ago.”

I lie. “Nah, I didn’t get it. What was the message?”

“Did you try to sneak in my cousin’s room while I was at work?”

“Yo, you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Aiight, then. No, I didn’t try ’n sneak in ya peoples’ room while you were at work.”

She sighs. “I knew you wouldn’t do me like that. I knew that drunk bitch was lying.”

“Yeah, she definitely was. But did she tell you how she came up in your room when you left for work in a skimpy-ass robe watchin’ a muhfucka playin’ with his dick?”

“She did whaaat?”

I repeat myself. “And then she let me fuck her. Right in ya bed. Instead of her sayin’ no, she asked me why I was fuckin’ a bitch like you. Did she tell you that?”

Silence.

“You want the truth, baby. The truth is ya girl is a slut. The truth is, you told her how good I was servin’ you this dick and she wanted to see for herself. And I bust that ass down. Why you think she was still knocked the fuck out when you came in from work? Why you think she was limpin’?”

“OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod…I don’t believe this shit. You’re lying.”

Silence.

“What the fuck I gotta lie for? Let her show you that lil’ black butterfly she has up over her shaved pussy. Let her show you her pierced clit.”

She starts cryin’. “OhmyGod, why would you hurt me like this?”

“You should be askin’ ya peoples that. She opened up that can of worms tryna snake me. I woulda kept the shit on the low, so you wouldn’t get hurt. But since you came at me wantin’ truth, I’m givin’ it to you. And the truth is, I fucked ya cousin in ya house. Not once, but twice. And both times she wanted it.”

“How could you?”

“Easy. She spread her pussy open, and I slid my dick in it.”

“Of all the bitches to fuck, you had to go and fuck my cousin. The one person I love so deeply.”

“Look, babe, that’s between you and her. You asked for the truth and you got it. She betrayed ya trust.” I see Mike and ’em talkin’ to a group of chicks sittin’ on one of the benches.

“Both of you did. You are so fucked up.”

I sigh. Decide not to rip into her. But the truth of the matter is this dumb little bitch invited a muhfucka she met online into her home, fucked and sucked him, then put her trust in him. The bitch knows nuthin’ ’bout me, but was quick to give up her pussy, her money, the muthafuckin’ keys to her crib, and tellin’ a muhfucka she loves him —in less than four months. “Yeah, you right. I’m fucked up, baby. So you wanna keep fuckin’, or do you wanna dead this shit?”

The ho is still cryin’ and snifflin’. “I don’t know.”

I shake my head. “Yo, I tell you what. Hit me up when you know. ’Cause right now I ain’t beat for all that cryin’ in my ear. I’m out.” I end the call, walkin’ up on Mike ’n ’em. “Ya’ll niggas ready to bounce?”

“Yeah, muhfucka,” Mike says, grinnin’. “We been ready.”

“Then let’s roll, punk,” I say, laughin’.

40

“Yo, fuckin’ ’round wit’ you dumb-ass niggas, we ’bout to miss our flight,” I say, racin’ through the terminal to get to the gate. These niggas decided to go to some party hosted by some industry chick last night in Phoenix and got fucked up. I had to drive us back to the hotel, and we didn’t get up in that bitch ’til almost three in the mornin’. And now we’re tryna catch this plane ’fore we end up bein’ stuck out this bitch. And there’s no way I’m tryna be out here another damn day. Five days wit’ no pussy, and no trees, hell muthafuckin’ no. A muhfucka’s tryna get home. I don’t know why the fuck he made our reservations so early any-damn-way—6:50 in the muthafuckin’ mornin’! And I bet the shit’s packed!

“Yo, shut ya bitchin’ ass up,” Mike says, tryna catch his breath. “We gonna make the damn flight.”

“Whatever, nigga. Punk-ass muhfucka,” I say, laughin’. “That’s why ya outta-shape ass is all outta breath ’n shit.”

“Fuck outta here,” he says, slowin’ down as we get to our gate. “I’m in the best shape of my life. It’s all them damn shots of Henny that got me all fucked up.” He wipes his forehead.

I keep laughin’. “Whatever, yo. I knew I shoulda rolled out wit’ Gee ’n ’em instead of fuckin’ ’round wit’ ya ass.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“This is the final boarding call for all passengers for Continental flight fourteen-thirty-four nonstop to Newark Liberty International Airport,” the attendant announces. We barely make it, handin’ her our tickets. “Enjoy your flight,” she says, smilin’. Mike walks up in front of me while I’m fumblin’ wit’ my shit, tryna keep my iPod and Black Enterprise magazine from fallin’ outta my hand.

As soon as I step on the plane, I shake my head. I can already tell the bitch is packed. Five muthafuckin’ hours packed on a damn plane. I’m glad I got an aisle seat, I think, not payin’ attention to any of the faces in first class. As I’m walkin’ by a seat on my left, I hear, “There goes that fine-ass nigga.”

I look in their direction and grin. “Aye, yo, what’s good?” Chanel hits me wit’ another one of them phoney-ass grins. Her peoples sucks her teeth, turnin’ her head back toward the window. I laugh. “I’ma get at you.”

I hear her say, “Not sittin’ back there in coach, muhfucka.”

When I get to my seat, Gee says, “Damn, nigga, I didn’t think ya’ll was gonna make it.”

“Man, listen,” I say, tryna stuff my carry-on in the overhead compartment. “I didn’t think so either. The muhfuckas at the car rental spot was tryna give us a hard time ’bout some scratch that was already on the shit.” An impatient attendant sees me strugglin’ to get my bag in and comes over to help. She shifts a few things ’round, then gets it in. She slams it shut, walkin’ off. Bitch! I take my seat and buckle up. Twenty minutes later, we’re up in the air. And Mike’s already over in the seat on the right of me wit’ his head pressed up against the window, snorin’. And Gee’s next to me soundin’ like a damn grizzly. I elbow him, then reach over and tap Glenn on his arm. “Yo, shake that nigga.”

I know if I don’t wanna hear that shit the whole flight, no one else does. I put in my earplugs, turn on my iPod, then recline my seat back, closin’ my eyes. I don’t know when I fell off to sleep, but when I woke up, we were an hour from Newark. I look ’round the cabin. Gee and the rest of them niggas are still knocked out, growlin’. Glenn’s mouth is half-open and he is droolin’. I shake my head.

The minute we land, muhfuckas are up scramblin’ tryna gather their shit up. Sounds of cell phones and BlackBerrys bein’ turned on can be heard, includin’ mine. “Yo, ya’ll muhfuckas sounded like a pack of hogs,” I say over to Glenn.

“Man, listen, I was tired as hell. I can’t wait to get home and get up in my bed.”

“Yo, dawg, I’m with you on that,” Mike says. I glance at my watch, standin’ up. It’s almost two-thirty in the