Hittin' the Bricks: An Urban Erotic Tale

Praise for
Hood

Praise for
Thong on Fire

Winner of the African American
Literary Award for Erotica

Praise for
Candy Licker
#1
Essence
Magazine Bestseller

Praise for
G-Spot
#1
Essence
Magazine Bestseller

Also by Noire

Novels

Hood

Thong on Fire

Baby Brother

(co-written with 50 Cent)

Thug-A-Licious

Candy Licker

G-Spot

Edited by Noire

From the Streets to the Sheets:

Urban Erotic Quickies

This book is dedicated to some of the creative geniuses
who worked their asses off to lift my characters off the
pages and bring them to life on the screen:

Alexandra Merejo

Texas Battle

Ness Bautista

Enrique Almeida

Millie Ruperto

And introducing … Reem Raw!

And to Ken Atchity, Chi- Li Wong, Mark Sullivan,
Adria Lang, Michael Kuciak, and Brian Jaynes for bringing
us together and making the magic happen!

All things good are attributed to the wise Father
above. I give Him thanks for keeping my hopes and
dreams big, and my ego and my head … very small.

Nisaa, Black, and Reem … y all the most righteous
peeps in the universe. Thanks for keeping this urban
erotic train rolling steady down the tracks.

STAY BLACK

NOIRE

The past three years have been crazy busy for me! After writing seven urban erotic tales and editing a hot collection of urban erotic quickies, I was able to do something that for the longest time I had only dreamed about: I wrote a movie!

It was a crazy good experience. I loved working on it from the first word until the last word. All writing is not the same though, and doing big things with a screenplay designed for a film is a whole lot different than writing a sheet- soaking bestselling novel, but it was a challenge I was ready to meet.

Film is a highly visual medium, but even when I'm writing books I can actually “see” my characters as they venture down those grimy back alleys of life. Most readers say my urban erotic tales really grab them and “put them there,” thrusting them into the scene so much that they visualize, experience, and feel the drama, so maybe that's why making the transition from book to film writing was so much fun for me.
But writing a movie was a lot of hard work too, so I studied up and learned the ins and outs from the professional scriptwriters on my management team, and at the end of the day I discovered I was able to express my creativity in visual ways that just aren't possible when your thoughts and ideas are confined to the pages in a book.

This was also my big chance to get some Noire Music Group artists involved in a gully production, and we rolled out the amazing Reem Raw for his first film performance where he not only spit on the mic and worked magic on the stage, but starred as himself in a character role. As a music artist, Reem wrote the lyrics for several songs used in the film, and he also helped actors perfect the art of rapping, while they helped him perfect the art of acting. Everybody was so real and everything came together so tight, that we couldn't have asked for better chemistry and love on the set.

I always knew I'd go hard with my first movie project, but I knew I'd need room to put my own unique thing down on it too. That meant I was gonna require the freedom to switch up and do me in ways that might be different than somebody else might do them. One innovative thing I wanted to do was flip the face of some of my film characters and make them different than the characters in the book. To do this, I took the theme of my urban erotic tale, which is really a common theme across a lot of cities in urban America, and I shifted the lines of neighborhoods and ethnicities to see if the tale would play out the same way across cultural barriers.

Man, the actors and actresses who turned out really put it down on the movie set. They took my story from being a straight-up gully urban erotic tale into a multicultural street film that proved that there are no concrete territorial lines to be drawn when it comes to crime and drama in the hood. Whether
you live in the ghetto or
el barrio,
whether you get down on fried chicken and collard greens or
arroz con pollo,
whether you're Black, Latino, Asian or some other subculture in the multimix of urban America, the street's sagas are all the same, the struggles are all the same, and above all else, the dire and sometimes deadly consequences … are the same.

I know ya feel me. So get tight with ya girl Eva as she struggles to survive on the cold streets of Harlem. Savor this urban erotic cautionary tale that shows you what real life can be like on cruel city streets. Then check out the film
Hittin the Bricks
starring Texas Battle, Alejandra Merejo, Reem Raw, Enrique Almeida, and Ness Bautista, and holla at me and show the film cast some hot gully love for bringing their multicultural flow game to my urban erotic mix.

Look for a code to get a Special Edition pre- release DVD of
Hittin the Bricks
available to loyal readers at the back of this book!

NOIRE

[email protected]

This here ain't no romance
It's an urban erotic tale …
Little Eva's got a monkey
And her body's up for sale
Daughter of the ghetto
Abused by friend and foe
Eva's got a secret
It's gonna cost her don't you know?
A deal went down on Rikers
Of that there is no doubt
Eva was the trade-off
Someone special sold her out
Dreams of fame and big success
Little Eva has no wins
Fiyah does a bid for her
She's gonna suffer for her sins
Lies, deceit, and power
Reign supreme on ghetto streets
It's an everyday struggle
Just to stay up on your feet
Schemes and fiends and playas
Cut deeper than a knife
The next man's thirst for glory
Could cost Eva her life
So this here ain't no romance
We ‘bout to stop and hit the bricks
‘Cause on the streets of Harlem
The good ones take the licks

NOIRE

Have you ever been betrayed by those you love? Violated and abused in the worst kind of way? And no matter how hard you tried to fight your way out of a trick bag, no matter how tall you tried to walk, did the cold streets of life lead you right back to your grimy destiny? Have you ever lived with fear? Crying out in the darkness as it charged through your veins and numbed your spirit in the middle of the night? Did you damn your own soul as you despised your fear, because deep inside you knew you adored it too? You there? You feel me? The boot of life been on your neck before? Suffocating you and holding you down? Well, if you've ever felt the pain of treachery, then walk with me for a minute. Let's hit one of the hottest nightclubs in all of Harlem. A cutthroat joint called Bricks. A place where dissin a shot caller could get a bitch bodied real quick, and wicked fear reigned supreme. Let me go on and break it down for you. My name is Eva Marie Patterson. I fought my fear in a club called Bricks, and this is how my end began …

T
he Brooklyn housing projects were deserted as Eva Patterson took a shortcut through the buildings, trying not to get drenched in the pouring rain. It was unusually cold for early fall, and all she had on was the corduroy skirt and Salvation Army sweater she'd been wearing when Rasheena kicked her out of their tenement apartment, but the temperature was the last thing on her mind as her eyes scanned the crime- ridden buildings in search of a safe place to go.

“Sheena, please …” Their neighbor Iris had butt in on the earlier drama as Rasheena cursed her daughter out like she was a grown woman. Iris had puffed out her
cheeks and held her breath between tokes of weed. “Stunt, stop fuckin’ trippin’. Eva's a good girl. And young as she is, I know you ain't … putting her out in the … street this time of … night.”

It was a Grey Goose night, and Rasheena drunk was somebody altogether different than Rasheena high. The high Rasheena would have been sitting in a corner somewhere. Getting her nod on and leaving Eva the hell alone. The drunk Rasheena had stood over her daughter giving her a grimy look that said Eva could kiss her ass.

“What?!?” Rasheena had turned to Iris. “Fourteen is
grown!
Sheeit … my ass was on the ave gettin’ tricked when I was twelve. Who the fuck took care of me?”

Rasheena slurped a mouthful of Goose straight from the bottle, then chased it with a long swig of cranberry juice and explained. “Look, I. If you lie you steal, and Eva is a thief. A
goddamn
thief. There's two things I ain't ‘bout to watch in my own goddamn house. My duji and my dick! Ya feel me? Eva grown enough to fuck with my man and dabble in my shit? Then she grown enough to let the doorknob hit'er in the ass on the way out!”

“Well
damnnn,”
Iris toked the blunt and muttered under her breath. “Y'all the ones who got her started on that shit in the first place …”

Eva had just sat there crying inside and looking forty instead of fourteen. She
had
tried to dip in Rasheena's stash, but she'd been sick all day and couldn't go out and make no money. Eva hated stealing from her mother. These days she hated taking anything from anybody, but she had a hungry monkey on her back. And Iris had it right. Eva wasn't responsible for putting herself on the gutter path to drug abuse, but neither did she have what it took to get off of it. She hadn't gotten a hit all day,
and just thinking about having to get out on those cold streets was enough to bring her jones down even harder.

“Don't worry I got you,”
Eva's stepfather Jahden put his hand up to his mouth and whispered. He winked and grinned as Eva slunk into the tiny room she'd once shared with her cousin Fuego, whose street- translated name was Fiyah. Eva missed her cousin real bad. But Fiyah's mother had gotten out of rehab a couple of years earlier and he'd gone back to Harlem to live with her. Even with all the grimy things they'd done together Fiyah was down for her through thick and thin, and Eva wished she could have escaped to Harlem with him.

“And don't you take a damn thing outta here that I bought you!” Rasheena screamed from the kitchen. Eva sighed. The only thing she was interested in taking from the room was the most important thing.

Her works.

Jahden grabbed her thin arm as she headed out the front door.

“Hold on, baby. I said I got you.” A mid- level drug dealer, Jahden specialized in pushing smack while most trap boys were busy trading that rock. His hand slid around Eva's narrow shoulders then fell to the small of her back. Eva stiffened as his fingers crept down the lump of her ass and massaged her cheeks. A cold sweat broke out all over her skin.
If my real father was here Jah wouldn't be touching me like this,
she cried inside.
This nasty pervert woulda been bodied by now.
Eva bit her tongue, trying not to throw up. Jahden liked to cold sex her. He would do things to her that Eva's young body just wasn't ready to handle. There was no end to his twisted demands, and earlier in the day he had forced Eva to sit on the floor and watch him fuck Rasheena from the back while Rasheena got in Iris's pussy at the same time.

“Check me out, Eva baby!” he had panted as his ass cheeks gyrated and pumped like a steam engine. Eva shuddered. Her mother was rotating her head in circles and lapping nookie juice like that shit came in thirty- one flavors. Jahden laughed at the look of revulsion on Eva's face, then screamed on her as she closed her eyes and tried to escape the horrible scene playing out in front of her. “Bitch open ya goddamn eyes! You betta be a student and pay attention, dammit!”

Eva had just sat there and cried. She was traumatized and sickened. She wanted to stick a knife in Jahden's neck. The same way he'd stuck a fearsome needle in her neck a year ago and turned her into the scared, humiliated shell she was today.

Although Rasheena had starved her child almost to skin and bones and done things to Eva that even the lowest dog- mother would never consider, Jahden was the real reason her life was so fucked up and Eva hated him for it. Every other day she'd promise herself that she'd kick dope cold turkey before she let him rape her
or
get her high again, but her greatest fear had become her greatest joy, and Eva was helpless.

Rasheena, who had held Eva down the first time Jahden shot her up, and who had then stood by and watched as her boy friend busted her young daughter's cherry, had been acting real jealous. She got mad whenever it looked like Jahden would rather fuck Eva than fuck her, and she put her foot down and demanded that from that day on Eva had to pay for her skag with cold hard gwap just like every other fiend- head customer.

Desperate, young Eva had taken to the streets to earn her drug money the only way she knew how. On her knees and on her back. She'd been beaten by strange men, raped, stabbed, and almost strangled. She had cried out to God for help, begging to know what she had done to deserve such a dark, treacherous life. But as usual, there were no answers for Eva. There
was only more destitution and misery. Only fear and more pain. And right now, standing next to Jahden while he rubbed all over her ass, she was hurting. Real bad. Hurting and scared.

Seeing the disgust on her face Jahden grinned and reached in his shirt pocket. He passed her a tiny foil- wrapped package and squeezed her fingers when she tried to take it.

“I got what you need, baby girl.” He cupped his dick and licked his lips. “See how cool I am? Tonight I'ma let you get it for free.”

Eva burned with rage, but he was right. She feared what he had, but she needed it too. She snatched it greedily and fled.

Downstairs, Eva's nose was runny and her entire body ached. A deep pain gripped her as she was leaving her building, and it wasn't just from anger or from her mother's cruel behavior. Rasheena had once been a top clothing model for a highly successful designer, but these days she was a common needle fiend who put her man, her drink, and her drugs way ahead of her only child. She had also been an extremely beautiful and intelligent black woman who could have gone far in life. Tall and shapely, with skin the color of brown sugar, she had wide eyes, stunning lips, and hips like sweet chocolate milkshakes. Back in the day she used to be known as the finest chick in Brownsville, but a fast life and a series of grimy men had proven more than Rasheena could handle. She'd traded her exotic beauty for one too many heroin trips, and these days she scrambled with the low- life Jahden because he not only paid her rent, but he also kept her head right.

Having a junkie for a mother was bad enough, but the drunken rages Rasheena flew into always cut Eva deep. Juiced, Rasheena would wrap an extension cord around her fist and whip her daughter until Eva's skin split open and she passed out from the pain. Eva's starving body was a canvas of thick,
ugly scars and fresh bruises that she'd picked until they were oozing, infected sores. Her stomach, ass, and back would be so cut open that her wounds bled through and pussed over and glued her undergarments to her skin. Her arms and legs had their fair share of crisscrossed cuts and welts too, but Rasheena had learned to chill on those areas after the school social worker got on her case and told her she'd make sure her black ass got locked up the next time she saw Eva with a fresh belt mark.

It was hard for Eva to admit that she would rather see her mother mainline heroin than guzzle vodka and gin, but that was the way it was with Rasheena. Besides, Eva understood duji. She respected that shit. Liquor was something else though. A smack head could find any old corner and cop a quiet nod, but a drunk usually got loud and abusive. Drunks liked to bully the weak, and that was Rasheena to a tee.

Eva dodged rain puddles and hunched her narrow shoulders against the cold. It was after midnight, and the sixteen- story concrete towers of Howard Houses Projects were a mixture of illumination and darkness. Rain curled Eva's silky hair and drenched her down to her bruised skin. Shivering, she tightened her grip on the tiny package she'd gotten from Jahden, then ducked her head and moved down the walkways as fast as she could.

She was close to building 420 when the same pain she'd felt earlier slammed into her again. This one hurt so bad it snatched her breath and doubled her over in her tracks. She tried to pant quick and deep and get past it, but the agony clawed at her gut and she fell to the wet ground, busting open a partially healed sore on her knee.

“Please, God, “
Eva begged. Her nose was running freely now, and she was totally sick. “God, please help me.” Rainwater
mixed with tears fell into her mouth. Eva was scared. She felt like a train had hit her and she needed to find someplace safe fast. The wind screamed and she clenched her fist tight, holding on to her precious package. She crawled over to a seesaw and rested her cheek on the painted wood. Her knee throbbed and her stomach felt pressurized, like she needed to take a real big shit.

Eva fought the urge, and as the wind screamed all she could think about was getting someplace dry where she could get herself right. She was a young girl but experience had taught her what would happen to her if she went up in one of the regular drug dens to do her thing. Like a lot of chicks, she might come out of one of those joints either raped or beaten, if she made it out at all. She gripped the small square of foil in her fist and pressed on. She was alone and afraid, jonesing in the night, and moments later she stood staring up at the windows of building 420. She knew people there. Her girl Sherri from junior high lived on the third floor with her crippled grandmother. Eva had come up on the streets with Sherri and a real cool dude named Reem Raw, a true friend who would fight any niggah in the street who so much as looked at either one of them wrong. But Reem had moved up to Harlem, and Sherri … Eva gazed at her friend's window where a light shone from a bedroom. She saw movement. She took a step toward the building, but then remembered. Sherri was clean now. She'd washed her hands of all the shiesty things she and Eva had done together. Eva moved closer and the curtains fell closed. A shadow retreated from the window and the light went out.

Friendless, Eva glanced around, searching for a spot. She was tempted to take her chances and run up in a project stairwell and get right real quick, but on a night like this there would be
more predatory winos and pipe heads on the stairs than there were people living in the apartments. She would probably go into a nod and come out of it dead.

A large basketball court was on her right and a parking lot was on her left. Eva thought about breaking into a parked car, but she didn't have the strength. She didn't have the time neither.

Suddenly she thought of something better.

Drunk Mister James.

Drunk Nasty- Ass Mister James.

Clenching her silver package, she scurried along the side of building 420. Her sleeve scraped against the building's rough brick exterior. She hesitated at the mouth of the ramp that led down to the underground laundrymat and decided to take her chances. Sometimes Drunk Mister James was too lit to lock up on the weekends. Closing time would come and go, and the old man would be off, who the hell knew where, sipping on his cheap wine.

With her dope safe and dry in her left hand, Eva's bony fingers skimmed the rain- slick banister as she descended deeper down the ramp. Step by step, terror crept over her. Pitch blackness waited for her at the bottom, and probably a piper and a stray cat or two as well.

“Oh … my God … please help me”
Eva moaned. Another pain seized her and she almost peed right there. She pressed her knees together, feeling hot and nauseous. Like she needed to shit and throw up at the same time. Determined, she moved deeper down the ramp, the wind kicking her in the ass. If she could just get someplace dry she would be all right. She didn't really care about the pain. She lived with pain on the regular. It was the dope sickness that was killing her.

A sudden surge of vomit splashed at the back of her throat and Eva flung herself down the ramp. Her jones was riding her
bad.
Desperation wiped away her fear and she was ready to fight. If something bad was waiting to hurt her at the bottom of the ramp then it better be jonesing harder than she was.