Finessed a Dope Boy's Heart Read online

  “What’s going on, girl? You look like you’ve been run over by a tractor-trailer. Are you still having problems sleeping?” she quizzed.

  I took a sip of the hot chocolate and looked over at my friend. “I can’t remember the last time I got a good night’s sleep, and to top it off, this so-called husband of mine didn’t come home last night.”

  “Say what? What you mean he ain’t come home? Was he working?” she shot me a surprised look.

  “No, he was not working. He barely works the night shift, and when I called his phone, it went straight to voicemail.”

  “Tamika, I don’t mean to pry, but do you think Rasheem is screwing around?” She gave me a suspicious look.

  “Hmmm . . . What else can a married man be out doing all night? I know what—fucking and sucking on one of these little trifling-ass young bitches. Girl, he’s been careful so far, but I’ll catch on to him soon enough.”

  “Tamika, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. I mean, these men nowadays are straight-up dogs. Here, this man has a beautiful family and is still trying to fuck it up. Girl, that’s why my ass been using my dildo. I tell you, sometimes it gets lonely. But I refuse to lie up with one of these old, two-timing-ass niggas. But if I were you, I would confront his ass. You know men are good at cheating but bad at hiding it. We women can go out and fuck a whole basketball team. We get home, prepare dinner, wash clothes, clean the house, wash our asses, and fuck your man like your ass wasn’t just sliding down on another man’s dick. These men, soon as a bitch give them a little attention, they start fucking up. They stop coming home on time, and stop doing the shit they’re supposed to do. They think they’re the smartest. But in reality, they are dumb as fuck.”

  She went on a whole tangent, and I had to say that I was grateful for her. Joy, just like her name says, was always a good time. And whether or not she knew it, she brightened up my day, just that quick. The hot cocoa and the conversation warmed my quickly freezing heart. The best part about it was that she was dead serious. And I wished I had the balls to cheat on my husband the way that he was doing me. Give his ass a taste of his own medicine. Maybe then, he would get his act together. But knowing Rasheem, he would just kill my ass and move the bitch that he was fuckin’ into my bed before my body was found. Who was gonna check him? He was that powerful.

  I couldn’t do that to Ky. She wouldn’t go for some random bitch coming in and playing house with her daddy. So she would probably end up out on the streets, and he’d stop paying her tuition. She didn’t deserve that. To be motherless, homeless, and her future cut short because I wanted to get even with her daddy . . . I was better than that. But thinking of Ky made me smile. I knew what she would be with, and I planned to talk to her about it tonight.

  Coming back to my current environment, I saw a smirk cross Joy’s face. I hated when she did that . . . well, when I didn’t want her to. That was something that came with being best friends for decades. She could read me like a book, and I knew that she was gonna be on my ass like white on rice if I didn’t tell her that I was thinking what she thought I was thinking. Regardless of whether I did, though, she was already planning the stealth mission that would catch my husband in his bullshit. With no prenup and fifteen years married, all I needed was proof, and I would be in there like swimwear.

  I knew that I couldn’t hire anyone to do it because all the private investigators were either former cops or had some kinda cop connection, and they all knew Rasheem. He made sure that they did. Hell, even the ex-cons that I worked with knew who my husband was. They never gave me any problems because they didn’t wanna have to face his ass. That was the kinda life I lived. I was pretty much a prisoner in a miserable-ass marriage, and couldn’t do shit about anything because of who my husband was.

  “So, when we getting this shit started?” Joy asked, making me laugh. I loved the way her British accent sounded when she cussed.

  “I don’t know if it’s a good idea—” My phone started ringing, and I couldn’t say that I wasn’t glad. Usually, I hated when our sessions were interrupted by work. But this time, looking at the expression on her face, I was happy for the excuse to put this conversation on pause.

  I excused myself and picked it up. It was the receptionist telling me that my 9:00 a.m. parolee was there.

  “Work calls,” I said, hanging up the phone.

  “We might be finished . . . for now, but we ain’t done,” Joy threatened, motioning her finger back and forth between her and me. Blowing me a kiss, she left, and I grabbed the file in front of me.

  I took a few minutes to read over it carefully. I liked to find out who I was about to come in contact with and what their story was before talking to them.

  “Joanne, please tell Mr. Greene to come in,” I paged the receptionist.

  “OK, Mrs. Blake, gotcha.”

  I left his folder open and sat there waiting. Sipping my hot cocoa, I started to wonder if he’d gotten lost on the way to my office or had made a stop at the bathroom or something. Either way, I was becoming impatient, and this was a bad way to start things off with me. There were two kinds of parolees: the ones who wanted to get their probation over with and didn’t give me any trouble at all, and the ones who wanted to let me know that they weren’t gonna answer to no bitch. I didn’t want to pass judgment before he got in here because I always gave them the benefit of the doubt. But I would’ve been foolish not to pay attention to these kinds of things. They were usually precursors to later, more blatant acts of defiance.

  I heard a knock and tried to give him a clean slate in my mind. Sitting upright, my hands folded over his file on my desk, I made sure that I had on my poker face.

  “Come in, Mr. Greene,” I yelled enough for him to hear.

  A dark-skinned brother walked in. I surveyed him from head to toe. His pants sagged, and his hair wasn’t combed. He just wasn’t making this benefit of the doubt thing easy for me.

  “Good morning, Mr. Greene. I’m Officer Blake. Please, take a seat.”

  “What’s good?” he asked. “My bad about the delay. I had to take a piss.” He added an explanation for the delay in his arrival, but the way he was speaking was too informal for the environment we were in.

  This was his first mistake—well, his third at this point. I wanted to tell his ass we’re not in the hood. That shit might work among his boys, but I wasn’t one of the boys, and it wasn’t working with me. Instead, I took my personal feelings out of the situation and got right down to business.

  “So, you were released on Friday from FCI Beckley. I’ll be your probation officer. First, I need a urine sample from you. Then I’ll make sure you understand the rules and regulations of being on probation. If you violate any of these rules, I will come to get you personally and send you back to prison. Do I make myself clear?” I took a cup out of my drawer and placed it in front of him.

  He stared at me and didn’t respond right away. His lack of response made me meet his eyes to make sure that my meaning was clear. But as I looked him in the eyes, I quickly looked away. Something unexplainable was happening. It was like this convict was burning a hole inside of me. My panties started becoming uncomfortable. Like . . . They were all of a sudden too tight for my ass. I wanted to stick my hand under my skirt so that I could fix them, but I couldn’t. So I crossed my legs, trying to manipulate them into a better position.

  “Officer Blake, can I ask you a question?” he grabbed my attention.

  “Yes, you may.” I continued to avoid eye contact by looking at the computer screen, pretending like I was reading.

  “What is a beautiful woman like you doing in this position? I mean, do you like your job? Locking up people and all that?”

  I smiled and clasped my hands together. Uncrossing my legs, I forgot the reason that I’d crossed them in the first place . . . and crossed them again, expeditiously. “Well, yes, I love what I do. I get to keep criminals off the streets and help those that want to come home and get rehabilitated.
So, now that you brought that up, which category do you fall in?”

  He looked at me and smiled. “I mean, I’ma get me a job and stay outta y’all way. You know what I mean?”

  “Well, I do hope so, ’cause you will find out, I’m not the officer to play around with. Let’s go so you can take this test.”

  I got up, snatched the cup, and walked out the door. He followed me to the bathroom. I stood with the door ajar while he pissed in the cup. My mind kept wandering off, but I managed to get it under control.

  He handed me the cup, which barely had enough urine in it to test. I guess he wasn’t lying about using the bathroom before coming into my office. But that didn’t make sense. He had to know I was gonna test him, so why wouldn’t he hold it? Looking at it, and then at him, he smiled and gave me a shrug as if to say, “I told ya so,” to which I smirked before I could catch myself. Turning on my heels so that he didn’t see all the way through my soul, we walked back into my office.

  Putting the test strip into the cup through the hole in the top, I went over everything with him.

  “Your curfew is at 9:00 p.m., nightly. If there’s going to be any delay, you need to send me a text to this number here.” I pulled one of my business cards from the holder and highlighted it. “You’re expected to find employment and only go to work and home. Seeing that your crime was drug possession with the intent to sell, you are not to be around any drugs of any kind. Are you following me?” I asked to make sure that he understood. When he didn’t respond, again, I looked up into his face, and he hit me with a quick head nod to let me know that he got what I was saying. His eyes were so intense that this time, I sighed involuntarily before looking back down at the paperwork that I was going over with him.

  “Now, you are being paroled to your mother’s house, a Miss Mary Greene, is that correct?”

  Again, no answer. Again, our eyes met. Again, he nodded.

  “OK, good. I can come to check on you at any time, without notice, and if I find anything that conflicts with the terms of your parole, you will be thrown back into jail to serve out the remainder of your sentence.”

  Not waiting for him to respond, I handed him some papers to sign. After he finished, he gave them back to me. I handed him my card with my work cell number highlighted, and when he grabbed it, he held on to it long enough to make me look up at him again before taking the card and putting it into his pocket. I slid him what I called my “Welcome Packet” across the desk to avoid any more physical contact with him. I didn’t think that my panties could take another glance.

  “Okay, Mr. Greene, you’re free to go,” I offered, practically rushing him out of my office. “Keep me posted on the job hunting. In one of those pamphlets are some places that hire felons, and they work with us with new releases. Oh, don’t you forget to call color code each day after 5:00 p.m., to see if your number is called. If it is, you need to report the next day and provide your urine.” I finished up before I stood, ready to send him on his way. He stood up too and stared at me all over. It kind of made me uncomfortable.

  “What does a man like myself have to do to get with a woman like you?” he finally spoke, and the question that he presented made my heart skip a beat and my stomach flutter.

  “First off, I’m a happily married woman,” I deflected. “And second, you’re out of line. I’m an officer, and you’re a criminal. There is no way in hell that we can have anything. Now, go on out of here before I violate you for crossing the line.”

  “Oh shit, and you feisty also. Oh, you should check those panties. They probably in bunches by now.” He smiled and winked at me before walking off.

  I quickly closed the door. The nerve of this punk! What did he know about the Victoria Secret thong that I was wearing? I hurried to my seat and calmed down my nerves. His picture was looking at me in the still-open file. I sat there and stared for a few seconds before I closed it and put it where the rest of the files were.

  The rest of the day went by fast, and I was eager to get out of there. Once I got off the elevator on the first floor, I checked my phone and realized that my husband hadn’t called me all day. So, this nigga didn’t come home and hadn’t called either. I thought about calling him but decided to do it once I reached home. I stopped by the local Publix and grabbed a rotisserie chicken with some greens and mashed potatoes. I had a slight headache and didn’t feel like cooking. The kid and I could eat this for dinner. As for Rasheem, he could eat wherever the fuck he was at or eat shit. I was so angry with him that I could care less about him right now. Next, I stopped by the liquor store and grabbed myself a bottle of D’ussé. I needed something to calm my fucking nerves before I did something I regretted.

  As I pulled up to the house, I spotted Rasheem’s truck in the driveway. That was very strange. He barely made it home for dinner, so why the hell would he be here now? I pulled into the garage and parked.

  I walked up the stairs and into the kitchen. The house was quiet. I put the stuff on the counter, then walked over to the living room and kicked off my shoes. I sat down for a few seconds, but something kept tugging at me. I needed to confront this nigga. I got up and rushed up the stairs.

  I heard the shower running, so I walked over to the bathroom door. His clothes were on the floor. I picked up his shirt and smelled it. It was sweaty but also smelled like perfume. Nothing that I recognized, but I knew it was some cheap-ass shit. It smelled like musk and stale pussy. I then picked up his polo drawers and could see visible come stains on the front. I heard the water cut off, so I hurriedly threw his nasty drawers down and cut the lights off in the room. Then I grabbed the bat that I kept behind the bedroom door and sat on the bed.

  A few minutes later, he walked out of the bathroom, dick hanging and all. Any other time, that shit would’ve turned me on, but knowing that his dick had just been inside some random, trashy-ass bitch, it disgusted me. He was on the phone laughing and talking like he didn’t have a care in the world. I didn’t know if he didn’t expect me to be home, or he just didn’t give a fuck. But I was about to find out. His mouth dropped open as he saw me sitting on the bed.

  “Ummm . . . Let me call you right back,” he whispered in the phone.

  “Hello, husband, don’t hang the phone up. Is that her, the whore that you been with all night?”

  “I’ll call you back.” He hung the phone up and started drying off.

  I stood and hit him across his knees with that damn bat with all my force.

  “Oh, fuck! What the fuck?”

  I turned the light on so that he could look me in the face. “Damn, Mika, what the fuck you do that for?” He lunged toward me.

  “Back the fuck up, nigga!” I hit his ass on the arm.

  “You fucking crazy bitch! I swear, I’ma beat yo’ motherfucking ass!” he yelled as he tried to walk off.

  “I don’t know where the fuck you going, but I told yo’ ass before, I’m not going to be with you if you around here fucking everything. You can pack your shit and get out, for real,” I said as I raised the bat again.

  “Bitch, I done told yo’ crazy ass that I’m not cheating on you. I was working a case all night, that’s all. But, nah, you want to act all crazy and shit. I fucking love you.”

  “Nigga, shut the fuck up. You fucking something, and when I find out, I’m going to demolish yo’ ass!” I yelled as I walked out of the room, leaving his ass there to tend to the bumps and bruises I left on his ass by his damn self.

  I was too fucking heated. I needed someone to talk to, but it was too late to call my girlfriend, Lexi. She was the only one that I could trust with my business. As much as I loved Joy, if I told her, the whole office would know what the hell was happening in my household. She would mean well and want people to see how fucked up a person Rasheem was. But I knew that shit would backfire, and they would see me as weak and dumb as hell for staying with him for as long as I had. I’m sure that some of their asses already knew about the shit that Rasheem was doing, anyway. Hell, so
me of them might be fuckin’ his ass behind my back.

  I sat in the living room awhile to cool off, then went back to my bedroom. Shaking my head, I stomped over, locked my bedroom door, and threw the bat down since Rasheem wasn’t in there. I was mentally tired and drained. Fuck, I had to work in the morning, and there I was acting a fool.

  Half an hour later, Rasheem knocked on the door. Reluctantly, I let him in. “You know that was a business associate, and you acting like a jealous schoolgirl. What is wrong with you, Tamika?” this old, psychotic-ass nigga said.

  I walked over to where his clothes were and grabbed them. “Nigga, you see these? They have a bitch written all over them. Your shirt smells like cheap-ass perfume that I would never wear, and these fucking drawers that I bought have come stains all over them. So, unless it’s a nigga you were with . . . Who’s the bitch?”

  “You’re crazier than I thought,” he chuckled. “You going around checking my dirty drawers. Is this the kind of woman I married? You’re worse than these project bitches—”

  “Rasheem, I don’t give a fuck about what you’re talking about. You’re a fucking married man, and you’re running around here like you single. If you don’t love me, why the fuck don’t you just leave? Get your shit and get out,” I yelled at the top of my lungs.

  He looked at me like he was shocked and took a few steps toward me. “Get out? Hold up. Wait. Did you forget I bought this house? Yeah, you losing your damn mind.”

  “Your house? In case you forgot, we are married. I’m going to call a lawyer tomorrow, and I want you out of my life. I’m not living like this anymore.”

  “You know what? I tried for years to deal with your overbearing ass. The truth is, I love you, but you’re boring, and all you do is nag. You know why I stuck around? ’Cause of Ky’Imani. I wanted my child to have her parents in the same home! But she is damn near grown, and I don’t need to deal with your shit anymore.”

  “Boring? ’Cause I don’t swallow your come or let you have your threesomes? What the fuck I look like eating pussy to please you? Are you willing to suck one of those big, black, ten-inch dicks to please me? Don’t ask me to do some shit that you ain’t willing to do for me.” He lunged toward me and grabbed me by the throat. “You better get your fucking hands off me before I report your ass. Your name will be plastered across the television tonight as a detective that beats his wife.”