Friday, December 14, 2007

Mixed Drinks

It was the summer of Tatiana’s 21st birthday. She was caught up in a whirlwind of partying, drinking and making mistakes she wouldn’t allow herself to regret. She couldn’t risk not living her life to the fullest.

It was then on a Saturday night when she and some of her girls headed down to their favorite spot in hopes of having some fun. They were all so innocent, ordering Long Islands and vodka cranberries. Life was a party and they were invited.

Somehow towards the end of the night Tatiana was separated from her friends. She was drunk, and at first didn’t notice him leaning into the bar, peering over at her. He licked his big juicy lips and smiled over at her, like he was up to something. She didn’t catch on, because she was too busy slurping the last drop of vodka cranberry from its rocks glass.

Tatiana set the glass back on the bar trying to signal the bartender, when he scooted closer to her. He laid his eyes on her empty glass and asked her what she was drinking. She managed to communicate a jumbled, vodka cranberry. He placed a twenty-dollar bill on the bar and told the bartender to add a Hennessy to her vodka order. The bartender moved quickly and soon she was once again sipping red liquid through a straw.

She looked over at her mystery man, intrigued now by his smoothness. At 21, a man buying her a drink was like receiving a brand new Cadillac. She flashed him her, “I’m too cute smile,” and stuck out her hand, sloppily introducing herself. For a while, after that, he did all the talking. Asking her basic questions like, “how old was she,” “where was she from” and “if she had a man.”

The DJ made the conversation strenuous, but in between songs she was able to yell out her number for him to punch into his phone. After they finished their drinks, he lead her onto the dance floor so he could get better acquainted with her body. Standing next to him in her stilettos, she still didn’t reach his 6’2 frame.

After a few songs, he stooped down to give her a hug, while whispering, “it was nice meeting you,” in her ear, before walking away. She watched him until he became lost in a crowd of party people. For a moment, in the middle of the crowded dance floor Tatiana was alone. Her thoughts were blurry and her mind wandered. Unable to focus she stumbled in the opposite direction searching for her friends.

She found them all outside on the patio, gossiping about the night. But for the first time she wasn't interested. She told them she needed to go home, because she didn't feel right. She needed to lye down. The girls headed back into the club, but made it no further than the dance floor, when a couple of shots broke out. In unison a blood cry escaped the lips of every woman in the club and the crowd either ducked for cover or started to bail for the front entrance.

The club became a mayhem of people scattering everywhere, fighting for survival. Then through her drunken state, Tatiana spotted the victim. In the middle of the dance floor lay a man, no younger than her. His right cheek was blown away and there was a trickle of blood, like an arrow, leading to her feet.

Suddenly a firm hand grabbed her arm and yanked her in the direction of the front entrance. It was the man she met at the bar. He was covered in blood and pushed through the crowd with a great force dragging her along with him. She was too drunk and confused to fight him. She had no idea where her friends were at this point, they got separated with the rush of the crowd. The man lead her to the back of the parking lot and dis alarmed a truck, telling her to get in...

I know y'all gonna hate me but to be cont...

Sunday, November 18, 2007

Fighting With Tyrell

Toni's eyes popped open and her ears rang as a loud echoing noise pounded in her head. She searched the room trying to recall where she was and what had just happened. The steam from the tub mixed with the orange liquid she had sucked down, had easily put her to sleep. Good thing she had propped her head up on a towel when she first sat down. The alcohol was really taking a toll on her as she began to realize the loud noise was coming from right outside of apartment 2B, her door. Oh shit, she thought leaping out of the tub, stumbling on a trail of clothes that lead to the bedroom. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her.

On her way to the front door she used the white walls of the hallway to guide her, knocking down a couple of picture frames in the process. Toni peeped through the tiny hole in the front door. Two big brown angry eyes stared back. Tyrell never looked so mad. His hands were clenched into two strong fists, and she watched as he paced back and forth like a fire breathing dragon.

Now what? She thought to herself. She hadn't gotten this far in her plans of revenge and the loud noise wasn't helping the alcohol in her system. It was now or never. Through the door Toni boldly belted, "What nigga!?"

"Bitch! You had better open up this door,” Tyrell replied without pause or any hesitation.

Bitch? I know that nigga did not just call me out of my name she thought to herself, helping to further her decision as to whether or not to open the door.

"Fuck you!" she hollered back turning on her heal towards the bedroom. She then heard the slight jingle of keys, and listened as the lock began to be tampered with. Just then it dawned on her that he knew where she hid the spare key, but it was too late to escape into the bedroom.Tyrell barreled heavily through the door nearly knocking her over, slamming the door behind him. He stomped towards her, his footsteps heavy with anticipation, backing her into a corner. His clenched fists were still at his sides.

It was way to late for words or adult conversation. Especially after drinking all that Gin and throwing his clothes out the window. Toni looked into his eyes and her memory flashed back to the last time he had been mad at her, which had been too often lately. These fights had become routine, but she was officially fed up.

In fact just the other night she had caught him on the phone in the other room whispering to some heffa. When she called him on it, he had blown up in her face asking her "why she was always ridin' him on some shit." His eyes had squinted up creating the same crease his face always scrunched into when he was angry. No sooner had the image of his heavy eyes burning holes into her escaped her head than one of his firmly clenched fists landed directly into her right eye.

"Now look what you made me do,” he said.

Toni reached up and covered her eye with the palm of her hand. She knew it was in the process of swelling, but at the same time she went numb and blacked out. Two seconds later Toni found herself naked on the floor. The fall had knocked her towel across the room. Tyrell stood over her and showed no mercy as he began to kick her in the back. Toni’s head spun, and pain started to creep through her body.

"I told you not to fuck with me bitch,” he yelled.

Tyrell grabbed her roughly by both wrists dragging her down the hallway over the pictures that had fallen, dirty clothes and shoes. The aggression Tyrell had as he tossed her on the bed was nothing she had ever experienced before from any man. He found the leftover liquor bottle on the nightstand and took a long hard swig. Only slightly conscious and still tipsy Toni was beginning to fear for her life. She tried to sit up but it was impossible.

“Tyrell,” she mumbled, “What are you going to do to me?”

He smiled and then spat on her carpet as he set the bottle back down. He looked a mess, unshaven his clothes wrinkled like they were a few weeks old in wearing. He strutted over to the radio, turning it to the local hip-hop station and began to nod his head to the beat. Turning it up he began to undress, first his shirt then his jeans fell to the floor in a heap. In her head Toni knew what was going to happen next, but Tyrell had left her pretty fucked up and she lay there helpless, a single tear rolled out of the corner of her eye into the rumpled white sheets. Tyrell smiled and danced over to her.

“Yeah that's right, I came over here to get some of this good pussy,” he said. “This pussy is mine bitch, don't you forget that shit. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”

As he entered Toni she breathed in deep, in pain, before she blacked out again…

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Our Eyes

There is an interest in his eyes
Deep inside those brown pools of wonder
Inviting my attention
I smile

Deep inside those brown pools of wonder
I find comfort
I smile
My imagination runs wild

I find comfort
Lost without intuition
My imagination runs wild
Those eyes take me places

He gazes at me intently
Inviting my attention
He smiles
There is an interest in my eyes.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

I'll Talk to You Later

I rolled off of Jerome, still sweaty and slightly out of breathe. I sat up and looked over at him lying on his back. He was so sexy with his long hair and toned body. His facial expression, however, was looking the exact way I was feeling about the relationship we didn't have.

I began to search through the clothes on the floor. Unable to find anything casual enough to throw on, I headed for the patio in the nude. On my way I grabbed a mixed CD and popped it into the stereo. The music was the only thing to fill the awkward after sex silence, which Jerome and I often shared.

Once outside I lit a cigarette, and thought, “hey at least the sex is good”. I smiled to myself and begin to chuckle as I replayed moments in my head from when we had first started having this affair.

“What’s so funny?” said a deep voice from behind me.

I turned around to find Jerome’s tall dark frame completely clothed in a white dress shirt, dark slacks and a tie that draped open around his neck.

“Nothing,” I replied.

He stood in the doorway leading to the patio staring past me, his eyes focused on the view of the city. I turned back around to face the other way, maybe to see what he was looking at, but I’m sure we saw things differently. Jerome grabbed my hands in his and pulled me close. It felt so good to be in his arms. He lifted me up gently so that we were eye level and I gave him a soft good-bye kiss.

"I'll talk to you later," he said.

He was smiling, but his eyes showed something else, someone distant. Jerome set my bare feet back down on the patio before disappearing back into my bedroom. The only thing I could hear in the background was the front door shut, and the music softly playing.

Jerome and I have been sexing each other up for a few months now, and so when he tells me, "he'll talk to me later", I know that means, the next time he wants to get laid.

“At least he isn't married”, I think to my self and sigh heavily into my cigarette. I let the smoke linger, expressing a feeling of relaxation after having mind blowing sex. I put my cigarette out. Later tonight I would be having dinner with Marcus and Thursday night I had plans with J.J.

My emotions for Jerome would at this moment have to be put on hold…

Monday, July 9, 2007

Mama and Me

I was sixteen when I got knocked up.

A few weeks into my pregnancy, I went out with my friends, drank a fifth of Hennessey to the head and came stumbling home, drunk. I knew my mama was mad, because I had to climb in through the window in the living room. There she was, sitting on the sofa in her nightgown, her glazed eyes drilling holes into my drunken ass.

I tried to play it cool, but all my alcohol started to kick in and I leaned into the sink vomiting uncontrollably. The Hennessey went all over the dishes that already needed washing. That's when mama lost it.

"What, you think you're grown?" she yelled in her high-pitched voice that even had the roaches in our apartment run for cover. "Coming in all hours of the night, puking in my sink!"

"Some little bird told me that you went and got yourself pregnant," she added. "All over town spreading your legs, like a little street hooker!"

She stood up as she spoke, with her hand on her bony hip, rolling her neck real hard. I stood there breathing heavy, the stale taste of stank alcohol still fresh on my breath. The room was spinning, I wanted to lie down, but I knew mama wasn't having it.

"Yeah, you heard me", she repeated. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

"How'd you find out," I slurred.

Why I asked, I don't know, because mama could stay in the house all day and still know everything about everyone in our building. She sat at the window puffing on her Newports, swirling her glass of Brandy, round and round until it was empty. That's all she did ever since daddy died.

People say daddy's death killed her spirit.

Sometimes on the weekends her loud friend Loretta will come over and together they'll sit with their heads so far out the window gossiping and talking dirty. I always pretended not to hear, go back to my friends and then we'd gossip too.

When I was younger, she would take me downtown to buy new shoes for school. One year we found some clear blue jellies that sparkled and I couldn't wait to model them in front of my friends. Mama had let me wear them out of the store and we walked hand in hand giggling like two teenage girls.

I leaned my head back trying to block out mama's words. By now I had slunk down by the cabinets in the kitchen onto the floor. The floor was stained yellow in certain places and it left a trail that lead to the dirty mud colored carpet in our box-like living room. Mama had one tiny love seat pushed up against the wall in the corner. The same tiny seat I lost my virginity on when I was fourteen. Legs spread, I had clenched my fists as I stared up at the ceiling praying mama didn't wake up from her coma in the other room. Later that night I had crept to check on her. She laid still. Her petite body was curled up into an awkward lump and she had a tight hold on her empty glass of Brandy.

I shook the memory from my head and came back to the dimly lit room and all its gloom. Unable to remain standing, mama had sunk into the love seat, on her back now, she continued to stick sharp words into my head full of hate and disgust. I looked over at her and rolled my eyes.

"She has a lot of room to talk", I thought to myself. How many nights had I come home to find her laying in her own puddle of vomit, and had to clean up after her before any outside eyes could place their judgment.

I stood up, clumsily knocking over a stack of magazines and newspapers from the kitchen table. I made my way over to the window, and lit up one of mama's Newports. After a few minutes she too stumbled over to the window. I handed her the cigarette and she puffed, blowing smoke out into the night.


There was a cool breeze that blew in from the window and played with our faces. I went to reach for the pack of cigarettes again, but this time mama gently put her hand on mine and shook her head, no. She placed her other hand on my tummy, and I looked up at her.

"I love you mama," I said.

I was surprised at how easy it was for those words to roll off my tongue and out of my mouth.

"I love you too, baby," she replied and she tossed the last of the cigarette out the window into the darkness…