Huey was right though. I’d never been with a White girl before and White people still scared me a little. That’s why I liked kickin’ their asses so much. It helped me get over my fear of windin’ up in their freezer like one of Jeffrey Dahmer’s butt buddies. But this bitch was too fine to let a little thing like getting hacked up and stored away as leftovers scare me off.
I strolled into the pharmacy and cut off any reply Huey may have wanted to make. The snowflake looked up as I walked in and smiled. She was definitely about to get fucked.
“You look like you need a thug in your life.” I said, lowering my already husky voice to a deep rumble as I stepped behind her; purposely leaning close enough to her ear so that my hot breath could be felt on her neck.
I knew that what white girls liked most about black men was our overt sexuality and straightforwardness. At least, that’s what I thought it was they liked about us. It might have just been that datin’ niggas was in fashion.
“Oh yeah? And just what makes you think that?”
“Cause here it is midnight on a Saturday night and instead of being made love to by someone who would kill or die for the treasures between your thighs, you here buying Snapple and shit.”
She laughed.
“Yeah, and what could a thug do for me that any man couldn’t?”
She was laying it on the line and since I had been so bold with her so far and it had been working I decided to play it like a pimp the whole way.
“Well, a player like myself would treat you like you need to be treated. Like a queen or a goddess,” and now for the trump card, “…and a whore.”
She stared at me disbelieving for a second like she was trying to decide if I was for real or not; waiting for me to laugh and say I was only kidding, but I stared back into her eyes like I was perfectly serious and then to further emphasize my point, I slowly looked her over from head to toe like I wanted to tear her apart right there in the store. Finally, she smiled and seemed to make up her mind.
“What’s your name, baby”
“Christina.”
“Where do you live?”
“Me and my mom live right across the street above the bookstore.”
Then, as an after-thought she added:
“My mom won’t be home all weekend.”
She was about seventeen years-old and I knew she thought I was the same age. At fourteen years-old I was already six-feet-two inches tall and had a voice like Barry White. I didn’t have much experience with girls though. The closest thing to real sex I’d ever had at that point was with Yolanda. And every time I looked at a White person I still saw Scratch’s face. Even though I didn’t really believe all that Muslim shit about white people being devils they still sort of creeped me out a little. Still, I wanted to fuck this white bitch bad.
“Give me your address. I’m coming over tonight.”
“Damn, you’re fast! How do I know you ain’t some kind of psycho or something?”
“Well, you don’t. But I give my word that you’ll enjoy anything I do to you.”
“You’re a sick mutherfucker. I like you.”
I couldn’t believe it. How dumb could a woman be? A sister would have cussed me out by now and probably pulled a box cutter on me and tried to slash my face. White girls lived in a whole different world. Violence is so foreign to them that they couldn’t even imagine being beaten up or raped by some niggas they met on South Street. Life to them was all fun and games and as much as I wanted to prove her wrong and turn her world upside down, hurting women wasn’t my thing and I wanted some pussy far more than I wanted to prove a point. I had gotten blowjobs and handjobs from Yolanda, but other than that I was still a virgin and was anxious to change that.
“My friends are waitin’ for me. We got some business to take care of. Let me get that number ’fore I leave and we’ll hook up.”
She wrote her number down along with her address and slipped it to me. When I reached for it she held on.
“Are you really gonna call? Don’t take my number if you ain’t gonna call.”
I reached over and grabbed her by the back of the head pulling her closer until our lips met. I slipped my tongue between her lips and found hers coaxing it out of her mouth where I sucked it like an erect nipple then nibbled her bottom lip. Every hair on my body was standing on end. Despite my macho show of confidence this bitch scared the hell out of me. I was almost afraid she was going to try to suck my brains out of my mouth. I was breathing hard and my heart was thundering in my chest when I slipped her number out or her hand and left.
“Hold up! What’s your name?”
I stuck my head back through the door.
“My name’s Malik. My friends call me Snap.”
“Call me. Okay, Snap?”
I didn’t like the way it sounded in her plain, flat, unaccented voice.
“Uh, just call me Malik.”
I slipped out the door and rejoined Tank and Huey on the sidewalk.
“I don’t believe you kissed that devil,” Huey hissed.
“Fool, I’m gettin’ fucked tonight. I don’t give a fuck what your ass got to say about that shit.” I started strolling off toward Sixth Street.
“Fuck is you goin’, Snap? We goin’ to get some pizza.”
“With what money?”
All the money we’d gotten from that incident in the lot had long been spent.
“Fuck buyin’ some pizza. We just gonna jack some white boys for their shit.”
Huey’s greatest joy in life was victimizing the dominant racial group and I knew that it was no coincidence that his craving for pizza happened to coincide with a young white couple leaving LA Pizza and heading down Fifth Street with an extra-large.
“Come on. Let’s swoop on these mutherfuckers,” Tank whispered excitedly before charging across the street.
The couple had just passed Record Exchange on Fifth and I knew there was an alley in the middle of the next block where we could jump them. My heart wasn’t really into it though. I was too busy thinking about getting my first piece of ass.
The guy was as tall as me but heavier. At six-two I was still only a hundred and sixty pounds whereas the white boy was nearly two-hundred pounds. Tank was much heavier than the white boy though, which made me feel more confident. And Huey, who was still just over five feet, was completely dwarfed by the guy. The girl he was with was a tiny frail looking little thing. No ass, no breasts, five feet tall and barely a hundred pounds. She was blonde with spiked hair, tattoos and earrings up and down both ears, wearing saggy old fashioned clothes that didn’t match and obviously came from a thrift store. On her feet she wore combat boots. I never understood why some girls seemed to go out of their way to make themselves look ridiculous.
By the time they reached the corner we were behind them and they knew it, the way a herd of antelope senses when they are being ringed in by hyenas. They started whispering to each other and peeking back at us. We didn’t care if they knew what was going down. There was nothing they could do to stop it.
Tank left our side and started walking in the street just in case they tried to run. The alley was now just a few yards away. As the couple drew closer to the dark gaping maw between the two buildings they grew more and more tense. They knew that this was where it would happen.
From their left, Tank began to close in on them circling around in front of them and Huey took over his former position in the street. I stayed behind them and just as we reached the alley I grabbed the white boy in a bear hug and started dragging him into an alley.
“Hey! Let me go. Da fuck are you doin’ man? Help! Help!”
“Shut the fuck up.” Tank growled and then leveled him with a right hook. The pizza fell to the floor and was trampled as we scuffled.
The white boy was dazed and thankfully silent as we dragged his limp body into the alley. I thought the girl had run off because I hadn’t heard her scream, but then, when I turned to look for her, I caught a face full of pepper-spray.
