that’s a regular black family for you. And we all grew up in the projects.
My mother always told me that I was born to be a model. I don’t argue; I get compliments wherever I go. I got guys wanting to take me away on vacation—Jamaica, Bermuda, Barbados, you name it—all expenses paid. But so far, I’ve always turned ‘em down. I really don’t know why. Maybe it’s the type of men who ask me. I’m not really feeling them like that. And you know if they’re paying to take you to some tropical island, they’re going to want some pussy in return. I’m not at all for fucking a niggah just because he paid for my plane ride so I can lie on a beach in the sun. Don’t get me wrong, I do like to fuck. But I just don’t give my pussy up to any niggah with fat pockets and a cute face. I can be a bitch, but I’m no ho or slut—don’t get it twisted!
I arrive home and quickly jump in the shower, pissed the fuck off. That niggah wasn’t worth my precious time. My friends tell me that I’m very picky, but I have the right to be. I feel that my body is my temple and my time is precious, so a brotha must be about something. He must be honest, funny and smart. And also, one of the most important things of all, he must look good. I want my kids to be cute, so you know the niggah I’m with gotta be attractive. They say it’s what’s inside that matters. Bullshit! I know I don’t want to be waking up every morning looking over at some butt ugly man for the rest of my life, and worrying about what my kids are going to look like when I give birth. Looks have everything to do with a relationship. The first thing that attracts you to someone is their appearance and the way they dress and talk. Then you get to know the personality and attitude, see what they’re about.
My mother, Denise, knocks on my door and then walks into my room to tell me that Jakim is on the phone. I look at the time. It’s eight o’ clock in the morning.
“What he want?” I ask.
“He wants to talk to you.”
Jakim’s my ex-boyfriend. We broke up a month ago. After being together like Barbie and Ken for two years, he started to act like a jerk. I guess he thought he was a mack or something, ‘cause a few bitches wanted to give him some ass. What really made me mad was that he was paying more attention to them than me. I’m sorry, but I’m not the type of girl to play second to any bitch; if I can’t be first, then I won’t be anything. Now he’s calling, trying to seduce and romance me over the phone. Just a week after we broke up, four of his friends tried to talk to me. But of the four, I’m only feeling one of them—Tyrone; he’s definitely a cutie, and he drives a BMW.
“Shana, did I wake you?”
“No. I was gonna call you,” I say being sarcastic.
“You were?” he asks.
“No, stupid. You woke my ass up. What do you want?”
“I wanna talk to you.”
“Jakim, it’s eight in the morning. I ain’t get in the house till five.”
“Where were you?” he asks.
“What? That’s none of your business; we’re no longer together. Remember, you wanted to fuck with them other bitches around the way….”
“But I’m sayin’, though…”
“You’re saying what, Jakim? Just do you and I’ll do me. Look, I’m going back to sleep.” I hang up the phone. A few seconds later the phone rings again. “I’m not here!” I shout out. I know it’s Jakim calling back. He doesn’t like to be hung up on—not that I care. As far as I’m concerned, he can kiss my ass.
I don’t get out of bed till one in the afternoon. Besides Jakim calling me so fuckin’ early in the morning, I had a good sleep.
Like the other women in this house, I get money from men, so I don’t stress employment. You’d be surprised how much cash brothers like Jakim, Tyrone and a few others will hand over when they think they gonna get some ass.
My mom’s on public assistance and sometimes works different jobs here and there. But like me, she gets men to support her wants and needs. They swarm around her, just wanting to taste a piece of the action. My mom has long, gorgeous, silky black hair that hangs down her back—as mine does—and it’s not a weave either. She’s red-boned, pretty and sporting the hell out of a terrific, full-figured body. The only difference between me and my moms is that I’m taller, slimmer and have light brown eyes. My Aunt Tina’s a fuckin’ gold digger. I be hatin’ ‘cause she be doin’ her thang out there.
I walk into the living room and see Danny on the couch watching TV. He’s my mama’s man, five years younger than she is and got it going on. He has neat, well kempt, long dreads, muscular arms and a strong-looking chest—something a female can definitely work with. He’s tall, handsome and has a nicely trimmed beard. He goes to the barber to get his shit shaped up like once a week. He also got money! He drives around in a green Range Rover. They say he’s a big-time drug dealer, but he owns his own barber-shop and a nice little bar on Merrick Boulevard. I be envying my mother sometimes; she got the kind of man I dream about every night. I know he be doing her right in the bedroom, too; I be hearing her through the walls. Shit, Danny makes my pussy wet every time I see him. But I keep my affection and hormones to myself. I mean, he is my mother’s man.
I walk past him as he sits there flipping through the channels with the remote. My robe covers me, but I’m wearing nothing underneath. A part of me wants to jump on this fine man’s lap and fuck the shit out of him. But I just smile and say, “Good morning.”
“What up, Shana?” he replies smiling back at me.
He watches me as I walk toward the kitchen, where my mom is cooking up a late breakfast—scrambled eggs and sausages. I go to the fridge and grab a pitcher of orange juice. I then pour myself a cup.
“Late night last night?” my mother asks.
“My night sucked,” I tell her, leaning against the sink drinking my orange juice.
She’s in her robe, too. I know she just finished getting her groove on with Danny. “So, Aunt Tina left already?” I ask.
“No, that bitch got a date with Michael tonight.”
“Michael? What the hell she doin’ goin’ out with that faggot? What happened to T.J?”
“He got locked up last week.”
“Oh! I know she’s mad.”
My mother nods her head in agreement. “So what’s up with you and Jakim? Y’all getting back together again or what?” she asks.
“No. He had his shot, and he fucked up a good thing. Shit, I’m over that muthafucka now.” Yeah, I curse in front of my mother.
“You know, y’all do look good together,” she says.
“We used to, but now I’ve moved on.” My mother doesn’t say another word to me. She fixes Danny’s plate and serves it to him as he continues watching television. She then snuggles up to her man as he eats his breakfast. That dick must have been real good to her earlier. I grab the two pieces of sausage left on the stove and head back to my room.
I sit in my room and contemplate on where to go
