Sweat beads on my forehead, the sheets sticking to our bodies, my hands exploring every inch of the naked, muscular body above me. Feeling the deep ridges of his abs, the way the muscles in his back flex with each thrust into my body, and then down to squeeze his tight ass, my hands riding the motion of his hips as he continue to rock into me, the headboard of his bed beating into the wall with the power of his thrusts, his dick reaching spots inside of me that have me shaking with pleasure and seeing stars.
"Bachelor!" I cry out his name, my blunt nails digging into the skin of his shoulders, back arching as he continues his onslaught of pounding thrusts, fucking me earnestly and with fervor, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of another unforgettable orgasm. The room seems to get hotter with each moan, pant and gasp for breath that escapes me, his own deep moans of pleasure in my ear, his lips on my neck, and his hands on my hips and thighs, squeezing me tight as he fucks me.
"Fuck, nigga." Bachelor moans in my ear, and from that alone I smirk, knowing that I can draw these sounds from such a street nigga—having him moaning like a bitch in my ear. I'm the one that keeps him coming back for more, even though he has a reputation for being a 'hit it and quit it' kind of guy, but here we are—in his bed for the second time this week.
"I-I'm close," I stammer out in warning, biting down on my bottom lip, and he moves to kiss my lips, but I turn my head slightly so that he meets my cheek instead. Bachelor knows the rules. This is nothing new.
A few more skilled thrusts and I'm toppling over the edge and into the orgasmic abyss, my vision blurring as my eyes shut, my body spasming, my seed released between our bodies, my legs shaking, and my toes curling as I dig my heels into the small of his back, keeping him buried deep inside.
"Shit, Emory," Bachelor moans my name, his hips rutting against me as he no doubts fills the condom, his hands gripping my thighs impossibly tight—so tight, in fact, that it hurts, but I don't mind. I revel in the pain. I get a rush out of it, and it even makes my dick throb a few more times, my cum cooling rapidly on my abdomen and chest. I think I might even feel a drop or two on my neck. Damn.
"You gon' let me kiss you one of these days." Bachelor says breathlessly, pulling back slightly to look down at me, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his warm brown eyes.
"Well, today ain't that day." I say, pushing him off of me. Bachelor rolls effortlessly onto his back, taking off the condom as I stand up, my legs a little wobbly so I grab the bed post for support as I reach down and pick up my underwear. Only he can make my knees so damn weak. "Besides, I already told you that if we start kissing each other it becomes a thing."
"And fucking doesn't make it a thing?" Bachelor questions, standing up himself and tossing the condom in a small trash can in the corner of the room, and I let my eyes drop over his body. He really is fucking sexy. Tall, dark, muscular in a way that should be sinful, and that dick of his is something to die for, truly. Even better—he knows how to use it.
"No, fucking doesn't." I reply dryly, pulling on my underwear and then grabbing the corner of his sheets to wipe the drying cum off of my stomach. When he gives me a look of mock disgust, I just shrug my shoulders. "You probably need to wash them before you bring another one of your hoes over, anyway. You did wash them before we did what we just did, right?"
"Oh, so you calling yourself a hoe now?" Bachelor asks, completely ignoring my questions as niggas do, and walking around the foot of the bed over to the side that I'm standing on until he's standing toe-to-toe with me, looking down at me. He doesn't deny having other hoes, or even that one of them might be coming over once I leave. I respect him for that. Then again, Bachelor knows I see through the bullshit easily.
"A proud one, boo." I reply, looking up at him. Bachelor towers over me at least five inches, which only makes it harder for me not to climb him like a tree again. I put a hand gently on his muscular chest, letting it drop down to his toned stomach as he licks his lips, and then I push him back. "You're standing on my pants."
Reaching down and picking them up, I hear Bachelor chuckle before he sits back down on the bed. "You always playing hard to get, Em."
"No," I say, buckling my pants before grabbing my shirt, pulling it over my head. "I'm not playing hard to get. I just don't want to get got. Does that make sense?"
"What? You scared of a relationship?" Bachelor asks.
"What are you? My shrink now?" I question with a smile, really not wanting to have this conversation and wanting to avoid it in every way possible. "The only appointments I want to be making with you are dick appointments."
Bachelor kisses his grill-covered teeth, tilting his head to the side slightly as he looks at me. "I'm being serious, Em. Why ya'on wanna be with me?" With that, he reaches for my hand, and I let him take it for a brief moment before I slip my fingers out of his to grab my socks.
"I don't have time for a relationship." I say, my back turned to him as I put on my socks and shoes. "Besides, I have my whole family to take care of. You know that. I don't have time to worry about taking care of a boyfriend, too."
"I can take care of myself, you, and your whole family. You know that." Bachelor says, stepping closer to me again and I take a step back.
"Take care of us with what? Your drug money?" I ask with scoff, whipping around to face him, because it seems like we were really going to do this despite my obvious reservations. "Besides, what makes you think I want a boyfriend who's afraid to be seen in public with me?"
"What?" He questions.
"Don't play dumb." I say, a small smile tugging at my lips as I lace my shoes, I'm going to win this one. "You ain't even out of the closet yet, B. Which is fine. Maybe you don't have it all figured out yet, but that's you."
"What makes you think I care about what these other lame ass niggas think about me?" Bachelor questions, his tone defensive. That defensiveness tells me all I need to know.
"Last week. LaShay's party." I say, and when he still gives me the same confused look, I sigh before clarifying. "Maybe you were too high to remember or something, but I tried to talk to you on multiple occasions that night, even tried to offer you a dance, but you were dodging me all night."
"Ah, nah, see..." Bachelor starts to say, tilting his head to the side, rubbing his hand on his stomach, and doing that thing that niggas do when they trying to come up with a story to tell, but he trails off because he can't even think about the rest of a lie.
"Exactly." I say, grabbing my jacket and my phone, checking to see that I have ten messages from my mother. Oh, shit. "I gotta go."
Bachelor stands up and follows me out of his bedroom to the front door of his apartment, pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he does, and when I'm at the door I turn around and look at him. "Don't think I'm trying to force you out or anything. You take all the time you need. I'm not waiting for you or on you. Now, if it's a relationship that you're looking for, I hear they have plenty of good candidates at church. They're supposedly anointed."
With that, I toy with the golden chain hanging around his neck, pulling him down closer to me to whisper in his ear.
"But if you still wanna play around with me, then you know how to get my attention." With that, I let him go, shooting him a flirty wink before turning on my heel and walking out of the door.
"Em," Bachelor says, walking out behind me, keys jingling in his hand as he shuts and locks his apartment door.
"What are you doing?" I sigh, turning around to look at him again.
"You'on think ima let you walk home in the dark, do you?" Bachelor questions me. "You know niggas been wilding lately, and I'on want nobody putting they hands on you."
"It's not even—" I start to say, but Bachelor puts a finger up to my lips to shush me.
"Nah, I ain't taking no for an answer." Bachelor says, gesturing with his head for me to follow him to his sleek, black Mustang. "Come on."
⫷⫸
It's a fifteen minute walk from Bachelor's apartment to my house, but it's only a seven minute bike ride. Unfortunately, today wasn't a day that I had my bike with me. So, here I am in Bachelor's car, which smells of black ice and high quality weed and Black & Milds for a five minute trip.
It's an abnormally warm night for October, but I appreciate it, I've always liked the warmth over the cold. In high school, I dreamt of going to college in some tropical place, but those dreams didn't exactly pan out. Not after my father was killed by a drunk driver late one night on his way back home from work, and my mother needed all the help she can get in raising my younger siblings and paying the bills. So, here I am, four years after graduation and still dreaming of getting out of this city.
"Whatcha thinking 'bout?" Bachelor questions as he reaches forward and turns the music down, the steady thump of the bass line that had filled the interior of car fading to nothing.
I look over at him to see his eyes already on me, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the console between us, fingers drumming lightly against it as he awaits my answer. For a second, I think about that hand holding mine, but I quickly push it to the back of my mind.
"Nothing." I say, looking at my phone to see that my mother had told me to hurry up and get home. I don't know what's going on, but if it's this urgent than it must be serious. Immediately, the worst case scenario starts to rush through my brain. What if something happened to the twins?
"Nah, I know sumn's up." Bachelor says, turning his eyes back to the road as he rolls through a stop sign and then turns them back to me, dark brown eyes watching me intensely.
"How?" I challenge, crossing my arms across my chest definitely as I raise my eyebrows at him.
"You always get this look in your eyes, like you focusing on something real far away and nothing at all at the same time." Bachelor says. "It's how you look right before you fall asleep, too."
"I fell asleep at your house one time and you think you know everything about me." I say, ignoring the question all together, and trying to remain easy-going even though it seems like Bachelor knows me better than myself. "Why were you watching me sleep anyway, nigga? That's creepy as hell."
Bachelor sucks his teeth as he takes his eyes off of me and puts them back on the road, and I can see his jaw clench, but he doesn't say anything for a while. "You real difficult, y'know that?"
"Yeah, I know. I pride myself on that fact." I say, turning my attention to the open window to look at the rundown houses, the graffiti covered dilapidated buildings, and the people out on the streets. This is my neighborhood, this is where I grew up, and I love it here—but it's no place to be. Poverty-stricken, crime-ridden, and heavily policed, it's the worst part of the city—and it continues to get worse with each passing day.
We pull up outside of my house, and Bachelor puts the car in park. He doesn't look at me, just rubs his bottom lip in thought, eyes trained on the pole of the street light outside of the windshield.
"Thanks for the ride." I say, because I know I've made him mad, as I unbuckle my seatbelt and put my hand on the door handle, looking at him. His jaw is still clenched.
"You welcome." Bachelor says, short and crisp, never taking his eyes off of that wooden pole.
I open the door and get out of the car, closing it and walking up the sidewalk to my house. The cracked stones that were getting covered by growing grass, the fading remnants of the chalk the twins had drawn on them with last weekend, the barred door, and I put my key into the keyhole and twist it. I step inside, turning back to watch as Bachelor finally drives off. He always waits until I'm safely inside.
"Where the hell have you been?" I hear my mother's frantic voice before I see her. I close the door, locking it and twisting the deadbolt into place before I turn to look at her. She's in her work uniform, her hair that is usually pulled into a perfect Afro puff in the back is disheveled and all over her head, and she looks like she's about to pass out from exhaustion and stress at any moment.
"Mom, what's wrong?" I say, waking over to her, but she just breezes by me to search for her purse.
"I've been called back into work." She says quickly, finding her purse on the table in the corner, a stack of bills next to it, and she rifles through it—probably searching for her bus pass. "Something's happened."
Mom works for the richest family in the city, the Tate family, who own half of the city. Mr. Robert Tate is actually the first democratic governor this state has ever had, and now he's on the campaign trail to become a U.S. Senator. Mom works as their help, though she likes to call it their house assistant. Mr. Tate's wife is black, and Mom says she treats her respectfully. She also swears that she does much more than just house cleaning, some secretarial work too. Still, it's weird that she's being called in so late. I wonder what happened.
"Camila and her husband is on their way to pick me up, now." My mother says, her grammar only breaking when she's mad, stressed, or nervous. She's a big believer in speaking correctly, and she's instilled that in the twins and me. "The twins already ate. They supposed to be doing their homework in the bedroom. Put them to bed tonight, and if I'm not back in the morning make sure they're up and ready to catch the bus, okay? I just bought some cereal so they'll have some breakfast to eat."
"Okay," I say. It must be really serious if she's not sure if she'll be back before morning. I want to ask what's happened, but I can tell she's already got a lot on her plate.
"Shit," she curses, looking up at me as she pushes her purse strap up on her shoulder. "You don't have to work tonight do you? I didn't think about that. I guess I can ask Ms. Rose next door to watch the twins if—"
"No, mom. It's okay. I don't have to." I say, which is a lie, but I can tell she really needs me right now. Surely my boss will understand.
"Thank you, baby." My mother says, just as a horn honks outside. "That's Camila. I'll see you layer." She says, opening the door and hurrying out to her coworkers and best friend's husband's car.
I watch from the front door as she gets in and they speed off, and then I close the door and lock it behind me, pulling out my phone to text Candace.
Candace is the owner of the bar that I work at. I shoot her a quick text.
A family emergency.
Can't make it tonight.
Can someone else cover
for me?
I press send, putting the phone in my pocket, and sitting down to fold the load of laundry that my mother had abandoned on the couch when she got called in no doubt.
Just as I start folding a towel, there's a scream from down the hall, and I stand up and make my way to the bedroom that I have to share with the twins. Inside, there's a twin bed pushed against one wall, and another twin bed pushed against the other. The twins share one and I sleep in the other.
I see the two of them on the floor, their backpacks unopened on their bed, and the few toys that they own strewn out across the floor. The two of them are currently playing tug of war with a naked Barbie doll with no hair—a donation that we were able to snag from Goodwill during the holidays.
"I thought you two were supposed to be doing your homework." I say, reaching down and snatching the doll from both of them. Immediately, they start to scream in protest. "Hey, I'll decide who gets to play with the Barbie—"
"Her name is Wanda." Sierra says, pushing some of her curls out of her face as she looks up at me.
"Nuh-uh." Cairo replies indignantly. "Her name is Trevor."
"Trevor is a boy's name!" Sierra protests, and then they start throwing jabs at each other again and I know they're about to fight, so I step between them and steer them towards the bed.
"Whoever finishes their homework first with all of the answers correct," I add for clarity, holding the Barbie up in front of them, "gets to play with Wanda or Trevor or whatever her name is."
They don't seem happy about this, but they unzip their backpacks and pull out their homework anyway. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket, and I toss Wanda or Trevor onto my bed and check the message from Candace. Immediately my heart drops.
Can't. Need you
here tonight. Sorry.
I groan, punching the bridge of my nose and trying to think of a solution. The only one I can come up with, though, is the last thing I ever thought I'd have to do.
⫷⫸
"Okay, so you guys sit right here, don't talk to any strangers, and I'll be right behind the bar if you need me, okay?" I tell the twins as I sit them down in chairs behind the bar, the two of them taking off their backpacks to do their homework. "Finish your homework and I'll get you some ice-cream. Deal?"
"I thought we were gonna play with Trevor." Cairo says.
"Wanda." Sierra corrects bluntly.
"I left her at home. Sorry." I say, really thinking ice cream would win these kids over, but they're tough. "Now, sit here and be good, okay?"
"Okay." They say in unison.
I make my way behind the bar, stepping up to my first patron after washing my hands, and mixing together the drink he's requested. I shoot glances over at the twins, who are counting with their tiny fingers as they do their homework.
"Couldn't hire a sitter?" Nick Brenton, my coworker and only friend, says as he walks behind the bar from the storage room. Nick wipes his mouth just as a woman comes out of the storage room, buckling and zipping his pants, and looking mighty satisfied.
"You confused on what job you working tonight?" I question teasingly, sliding a beer in front of someone, and then wiping down the bar top where no one is sitting.
"Nope. I know what I'm doing." Nick says, popping a piece of gum in his mouth and offering me a piece, before turning to wash his hands. Nick does some prostituting, the only male prostitute on this side of town, and the women absolutely love him. How could you not though? He's wickedly handsome, charming, too. If he weren't straight and we hadn't been best friends since the first grade, I would've let him hit a long time ago. "But I can combine both when the wicked bitch isn't here to know about it."
"Yeah, that wicked bitch is exactly why I have the twins here tonight." I say. "Mom got called into work and Candace couldn't find someone to cover my shift."
"She probably didn't ask if we're being honest." Nick says, getting a refill on a margarita. "You know how she is."
"I know exactly how she is." I say, checking on the twins again, and then sighing. "I can't believe I had to bring them here."
"Definitely not a place for seven year olds, but you do what you gotta do. We all do." Nick says, retying the apron around his waist. "We just trying to get by."
"I know." I say with a sigh. "I just wish it was easier."
Nick puts his hand on my shoulder and gives it a reassuring squeeze. "My granny used to say that people who have it easy don't appreciate the gift of life as much as we do. We can't walk out the door without being scared that we ain't coming back home. Everyday is a gift. We gotta be grateful, even if it's socks on Christmas when we really wanted a new iPod."
"Thanks." I say, because Nick is full of wisdom. He wasn't always that way though, he was very pessimistic before his granny, who raised him since his mother ditched him for drugs and never came back, passed away last year. It hit him hard, and it took him a while to come out of that dark place he was in, but when he did he emerged a new being.
The football game that was on the television flickers off, and the sound of a Breaking News intro grabs everyone's attention—even the twins'.
On screen, the local news anchor appears, and she has that same serious look on her face—but there's a solemn hint to it now.
"Good evening. We interrupt your regularly schedule program with breaking news." The anchor says, a picture appearing beside her face as she speaks directly into camera. I immediately recognize who the picture is of. "Senate hopeful Governor Robert Tate has been shot. The incident occurred a little over an hour ago while the Governor was giving a speech at a campaign rally in Redwood.
"He is now in critical condition in New Hope Hospital. The suspect is still at large. We will keep you updated. Thank you, and back to your—" the anchor stops talking as she signs off, looking down and pressing her finger to the earpiece in her ear, nodding her head before looking back into camera. Another picture appears, of a handsome face with full pink lips—at the bottom of the picture is the word: ARRESTED. "This just in: Governor Tate's son and basketball phenom at Remington University, Beckett Tate, has reportedly been arrested for a DUI. He's currently being held in the Cook County Jail on bail."
"Damn," Nick says, shaking his head. "When it rains it's pours."
Well, mom definitely isn't going to be home before morning.