Fool, Stop Trippin' Read online

  It feels so good to hear someone else say that I look like Jazz, I almost missed the comment about my weight.

  “Sammie’s not fat. She’s big boned just like Daddy.”

  “Big boned, my ass. That chile ain’t missed many a meal. Show me to the bathroom, so I can get my wig on straight. I told you not to put that damn top down.” Andrea pulls Mavis out of the room. Mavis was only in the house two minutes and I’m ready to leave. There is no way I am going to sit through three hours of this shit, old folks or not. I can hear Andrea fussing as she leads her down the hall.

  “Sammie, don’t pay her no mind,” Jazz says. “She’s been bitching since I picked her up. She called me lard-ass all the way here, so please don’t get upset or offended by anything she says. She’s old and set in her ways.”

  “Jazz, that’s no excuse for being rude. How would she have felt if I said something about that three-dollar wig she’s wearing?”

  “Three dollars? Dag, Sammie, the taxes on the wig are more than that.”

  “Then she was robbed, but don’t try to change the subject. If this is any indication of what I’m in for, then I’m out. I don’t need this shit at all.”

  “I promise, the other aunts and uncles will be nice. Aunt Leonara will set Mavis straight as soon as she gets here. Have another drink and grab a shrimp while you’re at it.” She pours me another glass and I swallow it all in one gulp. It burns all the way down to my toes, but I feel better. My stomach is too twisted for food, so I pass on the shrimp.

  Andrea returns with Mavis and instinctively I tense up, waiting for some more barbs aimed at me. However, instead of slinging insults, she comes over and gives me a hug.

  “Lean down, chile. I can’t reach you up there.” Unsure of her motives, I lean into her and she gives me a genuine hug with two firm pats on my back.

  “You’re the spitting image of my brother. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

  I look at Andrea, wondering what the hell she said to her in the short amount of time they were gone. She smiles at me and nods her head reassuringly. Mavis is so petite; I could have lifted her up if I’d wanted to.

  “Ma, Uncle Marvin and Aunt Rosa were pulling up when we got here. I guess they went on to the back. We came here first to freshen up.”

  “Umph, ‘we’ my ass,” Mavis mumbles.

  Listening to this little old lady cussing is funny as hell. She just doesn’t look like the type to me. Despite our rocky beginning, now I feel like I am going to like her.

  “It’s nice to meet you too, Ms. Mavis.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to hear none of that ‘Ms.’ shit. I’m your auntie and we is all family up in here. Fix me whatchu been drinking, so as I can go deal with that old bat Rosa.” I can’t move. Mavis switched from hot to cold so fast, it is hard to see where the next punch will come from, but I am thankful it’s not directed at me. Andrea calls to the waiters to fix the drinks as we all move to the backyard.

  Okay, Sammie girl, show time.

  Leah

  “Hey, how about stopping at this one?”

  “Sam’s Town?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been seeing all these billboards that say they have the ‘loosest’ slot machines in town. Let’s give it a try.”

  “Well, do you wanna play or do you want to play?” I look at Craig, confused, but his meaning becomes clear.

  “I wanna play.” We head back to our hotel without another word being said. I am feeling excited and nervous at the same time. We are about to make love for the first time as husband and wife.

  “Hello, room service, can you send up one of your strawberry cheesecakes and two bottles of your best champagne?”

  “Cheesecake and champagne? What are you trying to do to me?”

  “I’m trying to make up for driving you all the way to the third-largest gaming district in the world and not letting you play.”

  “But you said we were gonna play.” I pretend to pout, just as he is pretending to be making up for anything. My heart swells with love. “I’m going to freshen up.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Someone has to wait for room service.”

  “Damn, you got me there, but I’ll be in as soon as they are gone.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Grabbing my toiletry bag, I playfully run toward the bathroom. I am feeling as giddy as a child. Rather than take a quick shower, I run the bathtub, filling it with bubbles made from shampoo. If I were taking the bath alone I would have used my own bubble bath, but I’m not sure how Craig would feel about taking a bath in Victoria’s Secret.

  I twist my hair up off my shoulders into a neat French roll and remove all my jewelry except for my beautiful wedding ring. I admire its reflection in the vanity mirror. It is perfect in both size and shape. Craig catches me as I am practicing how I will show off my ring when we get back to Atlanta.

  “Ahem, what are you doing, my dear wife?” Caught, I spin around to face him. My heated cheeks are evidence of my embarrassment. Normally I am not influenced by material things, but I cannot tear my eyes away from my ring.

  “I can’t help it. This ring is beautiful.”

  “Not as beautiful as you.” He is naked and obviously wants some attention. His gaze travels from my feet to my neck, stopping as he stares in my eyes. Breaking from his tempting hold, I step into the tub. Craig produces two flutes and an iced champagne bucket from behind his back.

  “Are you just going to stand there pointing at me or are you going to play like you promised?”

  “Oh, I’m gonna play, on that you can depend.” He pops the cork and our eyes follow its path as it bounces against the ceiling. My eyes follow Craig’s every move.

  “Am I being selfish?” he asks me.

  “Huh?”

  “Because tonight I don’t want to share you with anyone, not even strangers. I want to be the sole focus of your world, just you and me. So I ask you again, am I being selfish?”

  “Well, if you are, I like it.”

  He steps into the water, never taking his eyes off of me. He offers me my glass as we meet, standing, in the middle of the tub. He nuzzles my neck, resting his chilled glass against my back.

  “That’s cold, Craig.”

  “Ah, but I will warm it right up. Turn around.” I do as he instructs, sloshing water onto the floor. Pulling my back against his chest, he caresses my neck and shoulders. His lips trail a fiery path over my shoulder blades and down my arms. His hands move in a circular motion over my stomach, inching up to my breasts. I wait to feel his touch, pressing my toes against the tub to get closer. He chuckles, breathing in my essence, his arms holding me tighter.

  “You are so beautiful,” he says softly. I close my eyes and remain still allowing his touch to linger. His hot breath and warm kisses heat my blood. I moan in ecstasy. This is how I’d pictured an ideal marriage.

  “Turn around.” I do as he instructs, closing my eyes in anticipation. Icy cold champagne jolts me from my fantasy. The champagne runs down my breast to the tip of my erect nipple. Craig holds his glass beneath it catching each drop. Raising his glass, he smiles in mock salute. I watch as he drains his glass.

  He washes my breast with his tongue, gently kneading it. I moan loudly from deep within. My clitoris clenches, beckoning him to come closer. He pours more champagne on my other breast, but this time he gives the glass to me. My eyes meet his as I drain the glass. It is still very cold and delicious.

  “Is that better?”

  “Much, but if I don’t sit down soon, I’m going to fall down.”

  “Do you think I would let you fall?” I am breathing deeply, sucking in air each time he blows on my erect nipples. I want him to go on forever, but I also want and need more from him. I need to feel his body pressed against mine. I need him to pierce my soul the way he has my heart. My greedy hands try to pull at him, but he is intent on seducing me in his own way.

  “Slow down, boo, we’ve got all night.” He may have all night, but I’m about to bus
t a nut right here and now.

  “Craig, we can take it slow the next time. I need you inside of me now.” He pauses, his eyes search mine, then he quickly turns me around and with one short thrust is inside of me. Pushing deep, I can feel him burrow like a coal miner’s rig, trying to reach my core, the core of my essence. With my palms flat against the wall, I match his pace pound for pound. He’s riding my ass like a jockey riding a wild stallion.

  “Girl, you feel so good. I just want to…I want to…damn, girl…I wanted to take my…I’m coming, baby.”

  I feel him shoot off inside of me as I reach behind and grip his ass, driving him in deeper. I want to hold back, but I can’t any longer.

  “Lawd,” I scream as I come with him, riding the waves of pleasure. We don’t sit in the tub. We plop down, causing more water to run over the sides and for some reason, it is funny as hell. We aren’t drained, we’re whipped. We lay in the water until it’s no longer tolerable and our fingertips begin to wrinkle.

  “If we don’t get out soon, baby, we are going to be sick,” he says.

  “I know, you go first because I am going to need some help.”

  “Oh, it’s like that?”

  “Yeah, you worked me over real good.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “Not on your life. I’m conserving my strength for round two.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Help me out and I’ll show you.” I don’t have to tell him twice. He carries me straight from the tub to our waiting bed. Pulling the covers up to our chins, we play footsie until we both have feeling in our limbs.

  “Ding-ding-ding-ding.”

  “Huh? What’s that?”

  “Round two.”

  “Ahhh.”

  Tarcia

  With more questions than answers, I walk back into the living room. Just that quick, I had forgotten what had started the fight with Lasonji in the first place. Kentee is starting shit and his ass ain’t even here.

  My glare shifts contemptuously between the door and the residue of Kentee’s relationship with that other bitch Leah. I am fuming and I don’t know whether to phone his ass and cuss him out or get a belt and beat the shit out of his rug-rats. What possessed me to say yes in the first fucking place? What possessed him to ask me when he knows damn well how I feel about his children and their mother? All I know is that he better hurry his ass up because I ain’t going to be responsible if they start acting the fool and shit.

  It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when I tried to be nice to his kids, but that was when I thought we were going to be this big old happy family. When he lost the house because he couldn’t afford it and his child support payments, I gave up all pretense of liking them and, to be truly honest, they never liked me anyway.

  Not trusting my raw emotions, I decide the best place for me to be, for me and them, is my room. I figure if I ignore them, maybe they will have sense enough to be quiet and leave me alone until their father comes back. At this point, entertaining them is out of the question.

  “Ya’ll sit here and watch television. Okay?” They don’t even bother to look in my direction and I resist the urge to reach out and touch each one of them. I go in my room, leaving my door slightly ajar so I can hear them if they start to get into anything they shouldn’t be. If I’m lucky, Kentee will be back before the cartoons go off for the morning. I switch on my own television and pick up the book that I had been reading when Kentee knocked on my door.

  The Tribe by Gregory Townes sucks me in from the first page and I am having trouble putting the book down. His vivid descriptions of destructive times that are parallel to events happening in today’s streets have me flipping from fact to fiction. I become lost in the story, experiencing the same terror as the characters of his book.

  I became so absorbed in the book that I apparently drifted off to sleep. A painful spasm jolts me awake and a tightening in my chest is causing my pulse to race. For a moment, I don’t know where I am. It feels like someone has placed a large object on my chest and I can’t move it enough to allow air into my lungs. My vision is blurry, but I attribute that to my sleep-crusted eyes. My main concerns at this moment are catching my breath, and the fire that is burning in my lungs.

  I try to see the clock on my nightstand, but my eyes will not cooperate and the display is not clear. For a brief second, I wonder if I am still dreaming. The pain, however, is convincing me I am not. As I struggle to sit up, my arms feel as if they are encased in cement, but I fight nevertheless. My head pounds as my chin rests on my chest. Finally, my eyes adjust and I notice dancing shadows in the living room through the slightly ajar bedroom door.

  Lasonji must have left the television on. It’s strange that I don’t hear the sound, but I’m still not thinking clearly. My chest is killing me as another coughing spell takes over my body.

  Thinking a glass of water will soothe my parched throat, I stumble to the door. I have no idea how long I had been sleeping, but it is getting dark outside. The acrid smell of smoke greets me when I push open the bedroom door. The sofa is totally engulfed in flames. Sheer panic propels me to the front door. I don’t think of grabbing anything. My only thoughts are of getting out of the house. I stumble and fall just short of the door.

  “What the hell?” The room is filled with smoke, so I cannot make anything out clearly. My eyes are burning as tears stream down my face and into my mouth. I use the end of my T-shirt to cover my nose as best I can. Using my hands, I feel around the floor looking for the object that tripped me up. Behind me, the fire is getting hotter and glass is exploding. I have to get out of here; it is too late to save anything.

  I touch a hand and that’s when I remember the children. Huddled together, they are lying in front of the door. Rising to my feet, I manage to drag Kayla through the doorway into the hall. I don’t stop to check to see if she is breathing. I am acting on pure instinct alone. No longer able to stand, I crawl back into the apartment. The heat is so intense, I feel as if my skin is falling off, but I have to get Malik and Mya out of the apartment.

  My determination to get them out is paramount. For the first time in my life, I am thinking about someone other than myself. I silently pray that the babies are not already dead. Despite my hatred of their mother, they do not deserve to die. Finally, I reach the twins but I don’t have enough strength to pull them out. I am sleepy and my lungs feel as if they are about to explode. The carpet is on fire and the flames are racing toward us.

  “God, please,” is my last thought as I collapse on top of them.

  Sammie

  Fear is not the word I would use to describe how I feel upon entering the backyard for the picnic; terror is more accurate. Despite the reassuring glances from Jazz and Andrea, I feel like I’m walking into a lion’s den wearing raw meat.

  At first, no one notices me, allowing me a glimpse of the family dynamics. For the most part, the siblings are paired up, all talking to be heard. Music is playing softly in the background and waiters are circulating around the yard passing out drinks and snacks. I try to sneak over to a chair under a tree without being spotted but Jazz calls me out.

  “Everybody, this is Sammie, please make her feel welcome.” If she was standing next to me, I would have punched her in the face. I don’t want the spotlight turned on me; I would’ve felt more comfortable if I could have gradually made my way around introducing myself at my own pace. Now, I have no choice but to suck it up, give the princess wave, and pray for a freak accident to take me away. No such luck—Pandora’s box has been opened as they all come over as fast as their legs can carry them to meet me.

  “Well, lookie here, lookie here. Ain’t you just a chip off the old block?” A tall, slightly balding, cocoa-brown man with twinkling eyes steps over to me, arms flung wide, grinning from ear to ear. Confused, I look around, not sure what to do.

  “Don’t just stand there; give your Uncle Maceo a hug.” Without waiting for me to move, he swoops down on me. His arms pr
actically suffocate me as he rocks me back and forth. I don’t even have a chance to raise my arms to hug him back.

  “Maceo, give the chile some room. She don’t want you sweating all over her.”

  “Aw, shucks, Rosa, stop hatin’. This here is my niece.”

  “Boy, she’s all our niece. Now step back so I can see her.” Maceo releases me, but instead of moving away, he stands beside me. He makes me nervous because he is eyeing me like I’m Sunday dinner, instead of a family member.

  “Dag, Rosa, she looks like you used to. About forty or fifty years ago.” He mumbles the last part just loud enough for everyone but Rosa to hear. The other sisters start to laugh.

  “What are ya’ll cackling about?” Rosa demands as she watches her two sisters.

  I could tell she is a real firecracker. I definitely don’t want to get on her bad side.

  “Yeah, you do look like my brother, alright, God rest his soul.” Without another word, she turns around and walks away. I didn’t realize that I had been holding my breath until she is seated. Her eyes never leave mine as introductions are made to the remaining siblings. I’m not comfortable until everyone is off in their own circles again, leaving me alone.

  “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

  “I don’t know, Jazz. I’m still in shock. You didn’t tell me how strong the family resemblance is. It’s like looking into a mirror and seeing the future.”

  “If we’re lucky. I can only hope I look as good as Aunt Rosa when I get her age. She still has all her teeth and she walks five miles a day.”

  “Wow, that’s impressive.”

  “Mavis and Leonara own a beauty shop in Clarkston and a little boutique next door so they keep quite busy too.”

  “Do they still do hair?”

  “Sometimes, if you are one of their favorite customers and it’s a special occasion. They don’t keep up with the latest styles, so they leave that to the operators.”