Brick (Double Dippin') (16 page)

“I know, Mom,” I say irritably. I hate it when she keeps pounding in my head what she did for me. Shit, she’s my mother. Parents are supposed to look out for their kids.

“Mom, just let me hold a hundred,” I ask, reluctantly bringing down the amount of money I want.

“I’m not letting you hold one measly dollar. Boy, what’s wrong with you? You should be trying to pay me back all those thousands of dollars I wasted on your defense.”

“Wasted?” I repeat, offended.

“That’s right. If I had it to do all over, I’d let you sit in jail and pay for what you did to that poor woman.”

“I ain’t do nothing. You heard what my lawyer told the jury. I was a minor… following the lead of an eighteen-year-old adult.”

“Theodore is slow. Everybody in our neighborhood knows you talked him into doing that crime. You’re wicked, Kaymar, and I can’t be bothered with you anymore. I have to make peace with Jesus and you need to do the same.”

“Mom!”

“Don’t call here again, Kaymar. You’re a grown man now and I’m not responsible for you.”

My mother hangs up on me. I stand in disbelief as I listen to the dial tone. Red hot fury shoots through my system. I look around Evette’s outdated kitchen. The wallpaper is decorated with roosters, and that shit is starting to really irk me.

Evette is at work, and therefore out of the reach of my wrath. I have to release my rage on something, so I go on a rampage inside the fucked-up kitchen. I use the receiver of the old-fashioned wall phone to bash a hole in the kitchen wall. In the midst of the act, I convince myself I’m killing roosters. I have to kill something after the callous way that my mom has dissed me.

I hang the phone up and then begin to knock stuff off the counters: the toaster, salt and pepper shakers, napkin holder…all that shit. Then I hurl a teakettle against the canisters, toppling them like bowling pins. I karate kick a dent in the refrigerator. I pull a wooden cabinet door off the hinges; break dishes and glasses. I dump forks and spoons out of the drawer and onto the floor.

After I finish trashing the kitchen, I stumble into the living room, preparing to wreak havoc in here. But I’m stopped by the ringing phone.

Figuring my mother has had a change of heart, I run back to the kitchen. I know she loves me. No mother will allow her son to suffer if she can help it. The phone is lopsided on the wall, and I’m relieved it’s still working. I lift the receiver off the hook.

“Hello!” I say breathlessly.

“Yo, man. What’s good?” It’s Blake on the other end of the phone. I’m very disappointed.

“Whatchu been up to?” he asks.

“Ain’t shit,” I reply with a sigh.

“I’m chillin’ at the crib, watching this flick, but it’s kind of boring…”

Is this nigga for real? Why would he call me to tell me about his boring day? I’m not feeling this shit at all, so my eyes wander around the kitchen. I get a small amount of satisfaction as I observe the damage I’ve done. The calendar on the wall is miraculously in place. I notice the red circle I put around Evette’s next payday. It’s in two days. Yes! I’m somewhat uplifted by the fact I’ll have some money soon.

“Munch is bored, too,” Blake continued.

I should cuss Blake out. This nigga done rang my phone, interfering with my rampage, and he ain’t got nothing to talk about.

“So I called this broad named Tillie to see if she wants to get down with me and Munch. She’s all for it but she wants to bring along one of her girlfriends. Two chicks are too many for me.”

“Say what?” I’m surprised Blake would admit to something like that.

“Me and my girl was at it for hours last night,” he explains. “I can’t fuck two bitches after all the work I put in last night,” Blake says with a chuckle.

“Oh, aye.”

“You interested in taking up some of the slack? Wanna join the party?”

“Do I? You ain’t gotta ask me twice. Where’s the hookup spot? Your crib or Munch’s?”

“See, that’s the problem. Munch’s mom stayed home from work today, so we can’t go over there. And my sister got the exterminator
over here, fumigating the place. That boarder of yours… the chick that stays with you, she won’t be home ’til after five, so I figured we could bring the party to your spot.”

I got Blake and Munch believing that Evette’s a chick renting a room from me. I don’t admit this is her crib or that we’re in a relationship.

“Y’all can party over here. It’s cool with me.” My bad mood is improving. “What time are y’all swinging by?” I ask because I need some time to straighten up the mess I made in the kitchen.

“Half-hour…maybe an hour.”

“Okay. See you when you get here.”

Suddenly, my world has brightened. I’m straightening up the kitchen, sweeping up glass, wiping down shit, and I got the nerve to be whistling as I work.

Forty-five minutes later, Blake and Munch are at the door, carrying two six-packs of beer. The two females they brought are as different as night and day. One girl is pretty enough to be on TV. Her light brown hair is styled in a wrap. Parted down the middle, showing dark roots. She has beautiful brown eyes, real wide and expressive. Her sparkly lip gloss is getting me in the mood for kissing. I could easily romance this chick before I start drilling.

The other one is so butt ugly she looks like a Halloween mask. Her nose is so flat, it’s a wonder she can even breathe. But I shrug it off. Pussy is pussy. I’m prepared to lay pipe in either one of these hoes. It don’t even matter which one. I’ll do both of them, if Blake can’t hold up his end.

“This is Kaymar,” Blake says, introducing me to the females. “Fawn and Tillie.” Both chicks are wearing short skirts, I notice.

“Mmm. Kaymar is hot. Built nice with those muscles. He can get it,” says the flat-nose chick named Tillie. Not only does her
nose look like she’s gone a few rounds in the boxing ring with Floyd Mayweather, but she also has a severe case of acne.

She starts giggling. The ugly chick would be the one to put in first dibs, but what the fuck? Like I said, pussy is pussy.

“We gon’ find out if Kaymar is all talk or if he can really put in some work,” Blake says with a slight edge to his voice. “That nigga is always bragging about his fuck game…we gon’ finally find out.”

I look around a little uneasily. My fuck game has not been up to par lately, but I don’t think it’s my fault I can’t last long. I cum quick because Evette’s pussy is uninspiring.

I notice Munch is sitting on the couch, leaning forward like he’s ready to pounce. He’s not saying anything. He’s quietly sipping beer and licking his lips as he stares at the two girls. He doesn’t appear very happy about our little setup with these chicks. Munch looks hostile and on edge.

“What’s up with Munch?” I ask Blake in a whisper.

“That nigga’s hype. He’s been sniffing glue, getting himself prepared.”

I start to ask why he has to sniff glue, but fuck it. What the hell do I care? I absently rub my dick as I gaze at Fawn. She smiles at me and I no longer want to be a part of this freak scene. Fuck these niggas. I want Fawn all to myself.

My thoughts are distracted by a rustling sound. I jerk my head over to the couch and I’m shocked to see Munch’s face buried in a piece of cloth. When he lifts his head up, he has a fierce look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong with him?” Fawn draws close to Tillie.

“Girl, that’s how he gets. You gon’ love it. Munch has a serious tongue game.”

“I don’t wanna find out. He looks crazy; I changed my mind,”
Fawn states with a frown. Munch has his crazy-eyed focus on her, and she’s trying to get behind her friend, Tillie.

There’s a loud explosion when Munch suddenly kicks the coffee table over and starts crawling around in a circle like a dog chasing his tail. Both Tillie and Fawn are screaming and freaking out. If I had a piece on me, Munch would be one dead mufucka.

I scowl at Blake. “Man, what’s up with your nigga?”

“Yo, Munch. Get a grip. You’re fucking up the party, man!” Blake yells. But Munch acts like he can’t hear him. He’s crawling all crazy, using one hand like it’s a paw or a hoof, scratching on the carpet…looking similar to a bull, preparing to charge.

“Blake, man! Get control of that glue-sniffing asshole.” I’ve had enough of this circus. I want everybody to get the fuck out. Munch is giving me plenty of reason to eighty-six him and all of these nut-asses.

Everyone except Fawn. She can stay; I have plans for us.

“Did you bring the shit?” Blake asks Tillie in a desperate voice.

“Yeah.” Tillie pulls open her big purse and starts digging.

My eyes nearly pop out my head when she pulls out a studded collar with a looped handle. She hands the collar to Blake. In a flash, Blake wrestles with Munch until he somehow gets the collar around Munch’s neck.

B
rick gave Anya the money to rent a motel room. Keeping a low profile, Brick stayed in the car while Anya checked them in, using her identification. Clean but small, the motel located in Lower Bucks County offered few amenities. With his cash on hand running perilously low, Brick could only afford cheap lodging.

It was in Brick’s nature to be a provider, to take care of the people that depended on him. Anya didn’t seem to mind the downgrade. Outside the bedroom, she was easygoing. A sweet girl. Easy to please and easy to get along with.

But she was a beast in bed. Anya’s sex game was off the chain. She was becoming a pleasurable distraction, and Brick couldn’t allow good pussy to take him off his square.

Touching Smash Hitz was going to take a little longer than he’d anticipated. At present, he had to worry about every day survival. If he didn’t earn some income soon, he and Anya would both be tossed out on the streets. And Brick couldn’t let that happen. She was depending on him, and he wouldn’t let her down.

It occurred to him to get a gun and stick up some drug boys, but he couldn’t do that. From his own drug-slinging days, he knew that there was a price to pay when a hustler came up short, and Brick didn’t want to jam up a young bull for a little bit of pocket change. Only ballers that were handling weight made long
paper, and getting to the big boys would take a lot of effort and planning.

Brick didn’t have time for that. He needed a quick come-up, and he could think of only one way to accomplish that.

Anya used most of her time searching for her father, but being in Bucks County was a disadvantage. Right now, she was sitting in the Internet access station in a quick-copy shop near the motel.

While Brick was putting together a money scheme, Anya was pouring through a database of homeless people, hoping to locate her father. Brick couldn’t say that he wished her luck. At least, not at the moment. As skimpy as his pockets were, one more mouth to feed was pushing it.

To make sure he couldn’t be traced by his fingerprints, Brick pulled on a pair of latex gloves. Wearing a sleeveless, hooded sweatshirt, sunglasses, and a ball cap pulled down low, Brick pulled open the door to a small bank that was tucked away behind a strip mall. He’d been casing the place since arriving in Bucks County, and he liked the fact there wasn’t a security guard on the premises.

Robbing mufuckas or hitting ATMs used to be a way of life back when Brick and Misty were in their teens. He believed he’d lost his heart for criminal activities, but in a bold and desperate move, Brick rushed inside the bank. Hand inside his pocket, he gripped his cell phone, giving the impression he was concealing a weapon.

As he rushed toward the teller, stunned customers scattered, creating a clear path for Brick.

Brick grabbed a male customer who was in the middle of a transaction by the back of his collar, and yanked him out of his way. Brick didn’t open his mouth. Silently he pushed a printed note toward the terrified teller. The note clearly stated that Brick had a gun, and he wanted all the cash in her drawer.

Hastily, the shaken teller gave him a bag of money.

Brick exited the bank and made a run for it. No good Samaritans chased him. No cops pursued him. He hopped a fence in the bank’s parking lot, pulled off the hoodie and ditched it, and then sprinted two blocks until he reached his car parked in a residential neighborhood.