Wifey Status Read online

  Without further delay, I got out of the car and hurried into my apartment. I quickly undressed and jumped into the shower. The water felt so damn good on my tired body. After a thorough wash in Oil of Olay body wash, I felt like a brand-new woman. I got out of the tub and grabbed a towel, but before I could wrap up, I caught a glimpse of my body. I rubbed my hands across my 38DD breasts. I wondered what his hands would feel like over them. I hadn’t been with a man in over a year. I was well overdue for some good loving.

  I put on a Victoria’s Secret boy shorts set, made me some hot chocolate, and got into bed. Picking up the remote, I thought maybe I could catch an episode of Forensic Files on Court TV.

  Alijah Jackson

  It wasn’t no coincidence when I rolled up in the salon. I had my eyes set on one of the stylists up in there. A week ago, while riding down Nine Mile Road, I peeped shorty. She was standing outside. The first thing that caught my eyes was her phat ass. I had to make a U-turn to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me, and sure enough, it was there in front of me. She was a little cutie too. I scoped her out from head to toe. She was a bad bitch from what I could see. I wanted to pull over and holla at her, but I was riding dirty, and I couldn’t risk getting torn off in the name of a chick. I watched as she walked back inside, where I assumed she worked ’cause she had the little apron on.

  A few days went by, and I couldn’t get this chick off my mind. I rolled over to Fairfield Projects to rap with my homeboy, Saleem. He’s a Muslim cat from Harlem. He moved to Virginia a few years ago and was doing pretty well for himself. He had Fairfield Projects on lock with heroin and coke.

  If anyone could tell me what I needed to know, it’d be him. He was standing outside when I pulled up.

  “Whaddup, son,” I greeted him as I pulled up beside him.

  “Peace, my brotha,” he said, stretching his hand out. We exchanged daps.

  “Good, get in; lemme rap wit’ you real quick.”

  He got in without hesitation.

  “Yo, B, let’s get sump’n to grub on. I’m famished.”

  “Dats what it is then,” he agreed.

  As I made my way uptown, we didn’t converse much; we were both lost in our own thoughts.

  Saleem has always amazed me with his laid-back demeanor, but underneath, I knew he was capable of doing some serious damage.

  As we entered the restaurant, I walked toward the back to holla at my boy Country, the owner. I then went back out front and placed my order. Saleem already placed his order, which was always seafood. I respect the brotha didn’t eat no meat, but, shit, I sure love me some meat. I ordered a large rice and peas and oxtail. The order was on the house, so we got our food and left.

  * * *

  As we headed back to the East End, we discussed a little business. We both had the same plan to take over Church Hill, the city’s most profitable drug area. We decided to put our minds together and get shit accomplished.

  “Yo, Saleem, fuck these country-ass muthafuckas. We goin’ try talkin’ to the nigga in charge, at least try to work sump’n out. You feel me?”

  “Brotha, that sound good, but we might have to strong-arm the spots and be ready fo’ war,” Saleem bragged.

  “B, I’m ready fo’ whatever.”

  “Alijah, this is a new ball game. Keep in mind you are not on your turf. Be careful, my brotha. Trust no one and always go with yo’ first instinct.” He placed his arm on my shoulder and then continued to rap.

  “You’re like a brotha to me. I would hate for anything to happen to you. Don’t fall victim to the game,” he said, and then removed his hand.

  “Word, I feel what you sayin’, son, but you kno’ me; I’m on top of my game.”

  He didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his head toward the street. I turned on his block to drop him off. Dang! I almost forgot my reason for the visit.

  “Yo, B, I need a favor too.”

  “Spit it out.”

  “There’s this shorty that I’m diggin’,” I said.

  He looked over at me. “She must be special.”

  “Nah, at least not yet. I’m tryin’a figure out who she is.”

  I gave him the lowdown about the other day. He kept smilin’ and noddin’ his head.

  “Yo, son, I need to find out what clown she fucks wit’. Not that it matter ’cause I’ma take her from duke,” I bragged.

  “I understand. Give me a few hours. I gotcha!”

  “A’ight. One.”

  He got out of my ride, and I pulled off.

  * * *

  Within hours, I got the news I was eagerly waiting on.

  “Speak to me, son.”

  “I got the info you want.”

  I listened attentively to everything that holmes was spitting, and when he was finished, I closed the phone with a big Kool-Aid smile on my face. I was happy that I was alone. I could sit back and relax. I needed a plan, a way to get at li’l mama.

  I never had problem getting at a bitch before, but this time was different. I shook the feeling and got up. I was gonna just walk up in there. I was that nigga she would soon realize.

  I purposely waited until all the customers and workers left from outta there. I walked in and was thrown off that she wasn’t on point of her surroundings. I sat in my ride for ’bout an hour scoping the scene out before I entered the salon.

  I gave her a bullshit-ass story that I needed my hair braided, which was half true. She must’ve believed the crap that I was dishing out.

  “We’re closed. You need to make an appointment,” she said.

  I came close to saying, “Fuck this shit,” but being the nigga that I was, I let her know I wanted it done. I got so close to her I could smell the apple candy on her breath, which gave an instant erection. She had a look on her face that expressed that she was feeling some type of way, so I took a step back.

  After going back and forth, she finally gave in but decided to tax a nigga. She must didn’t know money ain’t a thing. If she played her cards right, she won’t have to worry ’bout no money in the future.

  She was sexy as hell when she pouted her full set of lips out. I asked her name just to break the silence. She answered in a fucked-up tone, but I wasn’t stunting that. I already knew her name.

  When she finished my hair, I was impressed with her work. I was gon’ make her my personal stylist and bitch soon, I thought without a doubt.

  “Good lookin’ out, ma, I’m out.” I walked out before she could respond. Putting my swagger on, I walked toward my brand-new truck. Then I glanced ova my shoulder and saw her peeping through the blinds. As I drove off, I smiled to myself and uttered, “Gotcha!”

  Chapter Three

  Sierra Rogers

  I woke up in an upbeat mood, the wonders a good night’s sleep could do to a person’s mood. I was feeling myself, so I cut the stereo on, turning to my favorite song on Ray J’s latest CD One Wish. I started to sing right along with him.

  I went into my closet and grabbed a pair of Rocawear jeans and a wife beater. I hate to rush like that, but I had to hurry. My first appointment was Ms. Shirley, and God knew, I wasn’t trying to hear her mouth about me being late again.

  I got dressed in no time and checked myself out in the mirror. I applied some MAC lip gloss as I stepped out into the beautiful spring day.

  Things went smoothly with my two morning appointments. I checked the book to see what was left for the day. It was Wednesday, one of my slower days. This gave some free time to sit back and focus on how to get some info on ole boy. Charley had knowledge of all the major players in the game, and I was pretty sure he was a dope boy. I could’ve asked Jazmine, the nail technician, but hell, nah! That bitch was known as the neighborhood slut bucket. I couldn’t risk her trifling ass snatching him up for herself.

  Charley finally decided to show his face. He gets on my last nerves, behaving like he got it like that, and he shows up whenever he wants to. I’ma bounce on his faggot ass as soon as I saved up enough mone
y to get my own spot.

  “What’s poppin’, Si’,” Charley greeted me.

  “Chillin’,” I replied nonchalantly.

  “Gurl, my bad! I was out with the fellas all night, gettin’ our party on. You know how we do.”

  “Yea, whatever!” I rolled my eyes at him. He saw his excuse wasn’t sitting well with me, so he walked off to greet one of his customers.

  I waited patiently until he was finished; then I walked over to him. “Aye, Charley.”

  “Whaddup, Si’?” he quizzed.

  “I need to know the 4-1-1 on a dude name Alijah.” I explained the whole fiasco that happened between Alijah and myself. I could tell by the expression on his face that he knew who I was talking about.

  “Charley, listen, I’m feelin’ him and need to know who I’m fuckin’ wit’, and most important, is he paid?” I looked at him and bust out laughing, followed by my version of Kanye West’s song, “I ain’t saying I’m a gold digger, but I ain’t messin’ wit’ no broke nigga.”

  Charley looked at me with disgust. “Sierra, money isn’t all to a relationship. You gon’ find a dude that’s gon’ turn yo’ young ass out; then you gon’ be up in here cryin’ the blues,” he warned sarcastically.

  “Listen up, Charley! I ’on’t need no damn speech. Are you gonna find out or not? Save that bullshit for a bitch that cares.” This nigga sure is acting like my daddy, I thought.

  He must’ve sensed the hostility in my voice ’cause he dropped the parental role real fast. “Yo, calm yo’ ass down,” he warned. “I know of dude,” he added.

  I turned my full attention to him, not knowing what to expect. He started to spill the beans on ole boy.

  “He’s a Jamaican dude from up top. He moved down here ’bout a year ago. He’s in charge of his crew . . .”

  I took in everything he was saying, and when he was finished, I felt satisfied.

  “Thank you, boo boo.” I started to walk back to my stall when Charley grabbed my arm with a tight grip.

  “Sierra, be careful. Word on the street, that nigga ain’t nothin’ nice to fuck wit’. You know how them foreigners gets down.”

  I snatched my arm away. “Thanks fo’ the advice. And I’m nothin’ nice to fuck wit’.” I gave him a devilish grin and then sashayed off.

  As I relaxed and waited on my next client to arrive, I could not help but wonder if God finally answered my prayer. I was proud of all the things I had accomplished, but my real plan was to find me a big-timer, get married, have a couple of kids, and move somewhere up in the hills.

  * * *

  I was shocked when Alijah showed up at my job. A visit from him was the last thing I expected, but I was thrilled. I noticed as he walked in, he became the focus of everyone’s attention, which was filled with the neighborhood skeezers.

  He asked me out for lunch, and I turned him down. I decided to play hard to get. I wasn’t hungry anyway, and if he was really feeling me, he’d keep trying. He left with an attitude, but not before giving me his number.

  Wow! He looked even better in the daytime. He had to be about six foot seven, dark, smooth skin with thick eyelashes, and a model build.

  * * *

  I decided to leave early. Charley had an attitude, but the last time I checked, I was grown as hell. I headed down Mechanicsville Turnpike, with no exact destination in mind. I just needed to clear my head. I was fortunate to have a ride—a 2004 Ford Taurus. I had to go through some bullshit just to get the car, but it paid off, though. Fair exchange wasn’t no robbery. The dude, Tone, that owned the used car lot, sold it to me for the low-low in exchange for me going out with him. I ended up fucking him, which was a disaster because his dick was the size of a six-year-old little boy’s. I wasn’t tripping, but at least I had something to show for it.

  * * *

  Days went by, and I still hadn’t heard from Alijah since the day I fronted on him. I must’ve lost out. I was tempted to dial his number but decided not to. I knew I was playing a dangerous game, but I had to test him. If he really wanted me, he wouldn’t give up that easy.

  My mood at work was fucked up too. I hadn’t really said much to anyone except my clients. I thought about cancelling all my appointments for the week but decided against it. In reality, I needed the money. I was tired of living in the projects. The rent was cheap, and I was saving my money up. My goal was to open my own boutique. Charley wasn’t going to keep pimping me. I wanted to be my own boss.

  The day went by very slowly. I could’ve stayed home, I thought. Unfortunately, I didn’t make that much. As usual, I was the last one to leave up outta there. It was still early. Spring was finally here, and the weather was beautiful. I wasn’t trying to go home and sit in that boring-ass apartment. Sometimes I wish I had a roommate, a dog, or even a cat. I decided to hit the mall up and get me the new Jordans that had just dropped the day before.

  I got the sneakers and headed on home. It was getting dark outside. I parked and checked my pocketbook for my .22. I nicknamed her Betty. I didn’t go nowhere without her. I had seen my share of robberies and murders taking place after dark. I wasn’t ready to fall victim to any of it.

  I didn’t get a chance to step in the door when my phone started to ring. I dropped the shoe box on the floor and dug into my pocketbook. I had too much junk up in there.

  “Hello,” I answered without looking at the caller ID.

  It was Alijah. I could tell by his sultry voice.

  I wanted to jump up and down, but instead, I held my composure. I was tired of beating around the bush, so I confessed and told him I was feeling him. I was ready to make him my man. We decided to hang out, so without hesitation, I gave him my address.

  I didn’t know what he had planned for the night. I decided to wear a black Ecko red strapless dress and Rocawear strap-up slippers to match. I tried to keep it simple. I had just got my hair braided in micros, so I pinned it up in a bun. I put a pair of cubic zirconia studs in my ear. Who knew what was going to happen, so I sprayed all over with Curve fragrance. There’s an old saying, “Stiff dicks have no conscience.”

  My nerves were torn up. I kept pacing back and forth until I heard a knock on the door. I popped the door opened. I knew he was a stranger to my hood, and the niggas around there don’t like to have others snooping around. I wouldn’t know how to deal with it if anything was to happen to him while he was coming to see me.

  Damn, this dude look good as hell, I thought. I wanted to pull him in and tongue him down. I caught him staring with his mouth wide open. I cleared my throat to let him know I was still standing there. He gave me a seductive look and licked his juicy lips just like LL Cool J would’ve done. I was pretty sure that my drawers were flooding with pussy juice by then. I didn’t have time to check.

  I closed the door and headed toward his car. While we were walking, I sensed uneasiness. I turned my head and saw exactly what the problem was. Li’l Tony and his flunkies were posted up. I put my arm around Alijah’s waist so he could loosen up a little. We got to the car without any drama kicking off.

  * * *

  He took me to a Caribbean restaurant on the South Side. As we entered, I realized it was more elegant than the places that I had been to before. The setting was romantic. The only light that illuminated the dining room was that of scented candles.

  The service was on point too. Alijah ordered curry goat and rice and beans. I decided to stick with the bird. I wasn’t into eating all that crazy-ass food they be eating. Fifteen minutes later, we were grubbing as if we were starving. Any other time, I’d be shy to eat around a dude, but not him. I felt at ease, like I had known him for a lifetime.

  I really enjoyed our first date. A thug with a romantic side, I thought as I lay back in the car seat. I looked over at him. He seemed like his attention was focused elsewhere. I knew if I wanted him to be my man, I’d have to step my game up. I’d been with a lot of dudes before him, but Alijah was different; he’s a take-control type of dude. I would have to play
my cards right.

  Without even thinking about it, I reached over and grabbed his crotch. I looked at him to see his reaction. He seemed shocked! It was at that very second, I wondered if I made a mistake, but it was too late to get all scared, though. I was at the point of no return.

  “Whaddup, ma?” he asked with a confused look on his face.

  I didn’t answer him. Instead, I gave him that “I wanna fuck you” look. I started to rub on his dick. I felt it rise up like self-rising flour in a frying pan. My pussy was paying full attention too. My clit was throbbing in my Victoria’s Secret thong. I pulled his zipper open and released his cock. In front of me was the biggest, most beautiful cock that I had ever laid eyes on. I slowly reached over and licked the tip of it. I tried to be as gentle as I could. I had to keep in mind that he was behind the wheel.

  I would’ve done anything to see the look on his face, but I was too busy trying to give his dick the attention that it yearned for. I tried to devour the dick, but I felt like I was about to throw up. Damn, it was huge, but being the pro I was, I started to deep throat it as if my life depended on it to survive.

  I figured he couldn’t concentrate ’cause he pulled over. In no time, his hands were between my legs. I was feeling hot and horny; my pussy was on fire. I just wanted to jump all over him. Plain and simple, I just wanted to fuck, but not yet. This was just a teaser to let him know what was in store for him if he played his position.

  His dick got extra hard, so I knew he was about to bust. When I eased up off him, his energy juice gushed out. I wanted to open my mouth and secure every last drop but decided not to. I didn’t want to come off as no slut. I came right along with him. I felt the sticky substance on my dress since my thong couldn’t hold all my pussy juice.

  I watched as he wiped himself off, then hand me some Kleenex. I put it between my legs and patted my cat down. When we were done, he pulled off and continued on as if nothing happened. I would have given anything to find out what was going on in his head. I hoped he wouldn’t look at me differently. I usually didn’t get down like that, but I saw something that I wanted, and I was going to get mines by any means necessary.