Booty Call *69. Erick S Gray
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it’s like that, boo?”
“Yeah, it’s like that, ugly—leave,” Sasha chimes in.
His two boys laugh, seeing him get dissed. I guess he was trying to impress them or something. He tries to play it off. “Fuck y’all bitches!” he says.
“You wish you could!” I reply.
I know he feels stupid. We drive off laughing. Ee-ill… me and him— never in this fuckin’ lifetime. “Next time, we’re going though the drive-thru,” Sasha says glancing over at me. I can’t argue.
We shop for the rest of the day on Jamaica Avenue. I buy a few outfits, including something to wear for tonight. Sasha buys a pair of fly, three-hundred-dollar, Donna Karan shoes, and they break her pockets. It’s going on seven, and it’s time to leave and get ready for the party Sasha was talking about. The only reason I’m really going is to get my mind off of Jakim. I’m not stressing him like that, but I still have feelings for the man. Sasha drops me off at my front door and promises to pick me up around nine, nine-thirty.
I don’t rush to get dressed. I talk to a few people on the phone, take a shower and do my nails. I’m home alone, so I walk around the house butt naked. It feels good to just let my body breathe every once in a while. I stop and look at myself in the hallway mirror. “Damn, bitch, you got the perfect body,” I say, posing and admiring every aspect of my figure. Noticing the time, I run to my room to get dressed. I already know what outfit to sport tonight—my black leather mini skirt, my slate blue, stretch silk shirt and my open toe heels. I let my hair fall down past my shoulders and comb it out briskly. I put on just the right make-up and spray on some Michael Kors fragrance.
It’s twenty past nine when Sasha comes to pick me up. Latish and Naja are in the car with her. Naja’s already riding shotgun, so I climb into the backseat and greet everybody. I’ve only known Latish for two years, but Naja and I go back to the sixth grade. She’s one of my closest friends. Latish and I had our little feuds back in the day, because she always tried to talk to Jakim when the bitch knew he was my man. She said they just talked, and that it wasn’t intimate. But deep down I know she fucked him; they just aren’t telling. I’ve kept it cool with her so far, and I try not to have any beef wit’ her.
We arrive to the club at a little past ten. There’s already thirty to forty people lined up outside. Sasha parks the car two blocks down, around the corner from the club. We all step out of the car and straighten out our clothes, make-up and hair. I know I’m looking good, so I don’t stress too much.
“Fuck this!” Sasha blurts out.
“What’s wrong, girl?” I ask.
“This fucking line, that what’s wrong.” She steps out of her place in line and heads for the front entrance. “I’ll be right back.”
About ten minutes later, Sasha makes her way back to us. “C’mon, y’all, we’re getting in,” she says.
We all look at each other, thinking, what is this bitch talking about? But we follow her to the front of the club anyway, causing many who are still standing in line to hate and begin to bitch and moan. I hope this bitch don’t embarrass us—we get to the entrance and get sent back to the end of the line—not tonight in front of all of these people. We get to the entrance and to my surprise, we’re easily escorted in by a 6’2”, dark and muscular man. We pay the ten-dollar admission and strut our way into the party. I look at Sasha in amazement. “What did you do? Who hooked you up?” I ask.
“I gave the main bouncer my phone number and promised to suck his dick before I leave tonight,” she says smiling at me.
“You serious?”
“Hells yeah. We got in, didn’t we?” I have no other words for her. She’s definitely bugging the fuck out. I’d rather have waited on line for two hours. But it’s all good. We step into the dimly lit club. The music, the crowd and the scenery is bumping. The deejay has everybody hyped. He plays that new jam by Ja Rule and Ashanti. I glance around the place, checking out the cuties. And I look around for a familiar face, but I don’t see one.
“I’ll be back,” Latish says. She goes straight to the bar. It figures. She always has to get her drink on before she can get her party on.
I’m standing alone, and this chubby niggah walks by and stares me down from head to toe. I hope he doesn’t come my way. The only thing he has going for him is the piece around his neck. It’s kind of fly, and I know it’s real—Cuban links with the phat diamond cross. His stomach sticks out too much, though. But he only checks me for a moment from the corner of his eye and walks away. Thank God.
After about an hour, the place is packed tight like sardines. Drinks are being spilled on people bumping into one another, and a fight breaks out between two guys on account of this. A few punches are thrown and they’re both put out of the club.
I’ve been dancing with this cutie for the past half hour. He gets love, with his hazel eyes and fade. He smells good, too. Too bad I can’t say the same thing for the majority of the niggahs up in here; muthafuckas don’t believe in cologne. But my newfound cutie is cool. He buys me two drinks at the bar and asks for my number afterward, but I don’t give it to him. I tell him I already have a man. He doesn’t take it to heart. He still chills with me for a while.
Latish is now a little tipsy. She’s on her sixth drink, and she’s with some chocolate, fine-looking brotha by the bar. Sasha’s doing it up on the dance floor, grinding and hugging up on a few men. Naja chills with me at the bar.
I need a little break; with each passing minute that goes by, a different guy grabs me, touches me or wants to dance or talk. I tell Naja that I’m going to the bathroom, and she comes along with me. I barely make it there when I feel someone grab at my arm. Now totally fed up, I angrily turn around, only to see Tyrone, Jakim’s best friend. He is a cutie.
“What up, baby girl?” he says smiling and gently takes my hand.
“Oh, what’s up, Tyrone? I ain’t know you was up in here,” I say to him. I can’t help but show my excitement. It’s all over my face.
He’s chilling with three of his friends, all of ‘em looking thugged out, wearing hoodies, jewelry, Timberlands and attitudes. He continues smiling and gives me a hug. “Damn, you look good, Shana,” he says gazing at my outfit.
“You’re not looking bad yourself,” I reply. He’s wearing a blue and gray Sean John sweatshirt, blue denim Rocawear jeans and black Timbs. His braids are freshly done and his diamond earring sparkles brightly. Damn, he is too fine!
“Can I get this dance with you?” he asks.
“Sure,” I say, forgetting about the bathroom and forgetting about my girl, Naja.
We stroll over to the dance floor. It seems as though room is being made especially for us as we pass through the tight crowd. He grabs me and grinds his pelvis against mine. His moves on the dance floor are so smooth and coordinated, like he practices them every day. He knows how to move his feet, hips and shoulders. He has so much rhythm and energy that it’s hard for me to keep up with him. I notice the other ladies on the floor checking him out, too. They’re looking mighty interested as he grinds up on me. I’m getting wet and aroused and I’m starting to feel guilty.
We eventually stop dancing, and he asks me if I want a drink. I say yes, and he escorts me over to the bar. We talk and laugh until Sasha interrupts us. She says hi to Tyrone and gives me this weird look.
She then pulls me a few feet away. “You know you wrong; that’s your ex’s best friend,” she says.
“So!” I reply.
“What do you mean so? Jakim will kill you if he finds out you’re flirting and playing touchy-feely with his boy.”
“Did you forget that we’re no longer together, that I can do whatever the fuck I want?! Besides, I’m just trying to get my itch scratched tonight, and he seems like