The Price of Pussy

CHAPTER 1

Arrika! Arrika! Ms. Neta yelled from the kitchen for her daughter to come.

Dang, Ma! You don’t have to scream my name for the world to hear. Arrika spoke as she entered the kitchen of their big ass mansion.

Ms. Neta was sitting at the table painting her nails as the fan blew and the Isley Brothers played on the radio. Ms. Neta’s daughters were dimes and some change, and for sure they all were following in the footsteps of their mother. Arrika was the oldest at twenty-six. Then came Marshalee at twenty-four. Craig, their brother, was twenty-three, and the youngest was Beatra at nineteen years of age. Ms. Neta had four kids in all and three baby daddies that had long scratch. Fa’sho they was ballin’. Ms. Neta knew how to work her na-na, and she always taught her daughters to have targets in their right eye, because love didn’t pay child support, house notes, nor car notes. Men used to say that Ms. Neta’s pussy tasted as if it was cut from a honeycomb because it was sweet when they went down. She didn’t have children because it just happened, or because she had wanted them; she had them because they came with a price tag.

Ms. Neta told Arrika that Florida State had called and told her that they were worried about her because she hadn’t been showing up for school. What’s up, bitch! You went off and fell in love or something? You think love gone last longer than that psychology degree? Girl, you better stop playing and get that degree for safe keeping, just to have something to fall back on. Time goes by fast baby, and you don’t want to find yourself depending on a man at the end of the road. Because I’mma tell you what, at the end of that road, everyone must do like Jesus and carry their own cross.

Momma, why do you always compare things to Jesus? Arrika asked.

Because He’s the truth; through Him all things will come and all things will go. Don’t you ever forget that.

Momma, don’t trip. I’mma finish this last semester. I’ll take Sunday and catch up on the three days I missed. Arrika walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.

Ms. Neta said, Still haven’t told me why you haven’t been showing up.

I’m trying to get that nigga Diamond to buy me a hair salon, Arrika replied.

For what? Ms. Neta asked. You can’t even do your own shit.

Arrika giggled and said, What that mean? You could only drive one car, but you got two Lexus in the garage and a Benz in the driveway. Plus, Arrika continued, I’mma have my girl Stacey run it. She’s been going through it with James. He’s getting tired of coming home with ponytails laying everywhere and the house smelling like perm kits. So I’mma try to work my magic and get this business up and running. She has her license, so she could just pay me for the equipment and the rent every month.

I know that’s right, girl, Ms. Neta responded. Get your money, baby! Well, Ma. I gotta go. I’m trying to beat traffic.

Be careful, Boo.

Alright, Arrika shouted, as she walked out of the side door.

It was in the middle of the month of June in Tampa, Florida where the heat was lightin’ fire to shit that wasn’t out representing the right way.

Amber was Marshalee’s bestfriend. She was a bad ass white girl, with hips and ass like a sistah. You would have thought that she was Black by the sound of her voice. Amber had a slur in her voice that was natural for her race. Amber was popular in the Black community. Amber’s daddy was told to be some type of high power attorney who only dealt with multi-millionaires. He owned his own firm that her mother was also a part of. Amber loved Marshalee like a real sister. They went to the same school. Amber felt that private schools and Catholic schools were too slow and far too strict for her fast life. So, she enrolled into an all-African American school.

Amber understood exactly where she wanted to be in life. Her mother enrolled her into South Hamalton Jr. High, in hopes of scaring her rich innocent child into a more promising school that would ensure her a further education. But unfortunately, that didn’t happen, because Amber knew how to hold her own in the Black community. Amber being well liked by the Black community didn’t hurt her presence at all. Amber dated a dude by the name of Demarcus. He was a cold trick for that ass. Demarcus was a young D- Boy. Demarcus was sprung on the pussy, and Amber knew it. Demarcus pulled up on Amber while she was hollering at some other dude about his ride. Demarcus immediately lost his head. He hopped out of his 2019 Mercedes, dropped and flashed on Amber.

As Demarcus approached Amber, she greeted him with, Hi, baby!!

Bitch, you ain’t satisfied with what you got? What the fuck you all up in another nigga’s face for? Bitch, I should beat your ass purple.

Marshalee was sitting in the passenger seat of her mom’s 750 BMW when she heard Demarcus get off on her girl. SMACK!! Marshalee quickly hopped out and took off her heels. Amber held her red face in disbelief with her mouth open. A tear rolled down her cheek. Demarcus grabbed Amber by the hair and began to guide her towards the Mercedes. Just before he reached to open the passenger door, Marshalee sent 150 volts of electric shock to his ass with the stun gun she had bought out of LouLou’s sex shop. Demarcus fell to the ground. Marshalee grabbed her friend Amber by her wrist and pulled her towards her mother’s Benz. Marshalee picked up her heels that she had taken off and opened the passenger door for her friend. Then, Marshalee walked quickly to the driver’s side of the Benz, pulled out of the parking lot and drove away from the scene. Demarcus lay on the pavement ferociously shaking. Marshalee stopped at the light on Temple. She examined Amber’s right cheek.

You’re alright, Marshalee said. You just have a little bruising and coloring on your face.

Amber spoke and said, Thank you, girl. I didn’t know what to do when he hit me. My men never hit me before, no man for that matter.

Marshalee said, Don’t you ever let a man put his hands on you, because then he gonna keep doing it and doing it until you eventually become ugly as his soul. The light turned green, and Marshalee continued to drive down Temple.

Where you get that thang at? Amber asked. Marshalee took the stun gun off her lap and handed it to Amber.

Here, make sure you charge it every night whether you use it or not. Press that red button.

Amber pressed the red button, and the electricity went across the teeth of the stun gun. When you use it, make sure you place it on the skin, and light his ass up. Never leave home without it. Use it whenever you feel that your life is in any type of danger.

Thanks, girl, Amber responded. Amber placed the safeguard over the gun and tucked it in her purse. Let’s go get something to eat, Amber suggested.

What do you have in mind? asked Marshalee.

Rally’s! Amber responded. So, Marshalee turned on Sepulveda Blvd and made her way to Annex Ave. She parked in the driveway of the Rally’s fast food restaurant, and they walked in. Marshalee and Amber turned heads immediately. Amber said, Girrrl, I smell money somewhere. Amber made her way to the register and ordered two number 3’s supersized.

A guy leaned on the counter aside of her and spoke while looking at the menu that hovered over the workers and said, I’m no genius or palm reader. But, it seems you have a man that don’t know how to treat a diamond. Then, he looked down at his bracelet that had the brightest yellow diamonds Amber had ever seen. With his left index finger, he brushed the bracelet that sat peacefully on his right wrist. He shifted his eyes from the menu to his bracelet while saying, Diamonds are a very unique jewel. In order to know their worth, you must first be willing to dig deep for them. Because how could you love something or someone you haven’t worked hard to get?

Amber then spoke saying, Do you approach every woman with your ‘diamond’ story?

Naw. Then, he looked directly into Amber’s eyes and said, Around here you barely find flawless pieces such as yourself.

Amber smiled and said, If you don’t stop!!

What’s your name? he asked.

My name is Kisha, Amber responded.

He started to laugh and said, Man, you don’t look like no Kisha. The employee behind the counter walked up and sat Jah’s order on the counter. Jah looked in the bag, then told the gentleman behind the counter, Thank you, sir. His manners made Amber blush.

Then, Amber asked, Are you gonna keep your name a secret? Or, are you going to be so kind to properly introduce yourself?

My name is Jah. He extended his hand out to Amber. Jah was Amber’s complete opposite; Jah was dark skinned, 6'3, 210 pounds, and well-groomed, with long French braids extending past his broad chest. Amber was 5'5, 130 pounds, beautiful and assertive. As Amber placed her hand in the palm of Jah’s, she almost came to a climax when she felt how soft and smooth his hand was. The first thing that popped in her head was, This man has never worked a day in his life. The guy behind the counter interrupted Amber’s and Jah’s short moment with the two supersized combos that Amber had ordered. Amber paid for her and Marshalee’s meal. Marshalee had gone to the lady’s room right before Jah had begun to speak to Amber.

When Marshalee returned, she asked, Amber, you ready? Jah smiled at Amber and said, Now that name fits you. Amber began to giggle while saying, I was going to tell you.

Jah said, I’m glad you didn’t, because that tells me a lot about you as a person. Well, y’all enjoy y’all self and take care.

Ok, you too, Amber said softly. When Jah headed toward the door, everyone in the restaurant jumped up with their food and followed suit. After Jah exited with his entourage, the only people that remained in the restaurant were Amber, Marshalee, and two older couples.

Marshalee said, DAM!! Who that nigga be?

The young man behind the counter responded to Marshalee. That’s Mr. Jah Stevenson. He’s the owner of this place and many more. He has his hands in a lot of shit. He’s young, smart and just a real good guy overall.

So, he own this place? Amber asked.

Yep, the guy behind the counter responded.

Then, why did he pay for his order? Amber asked aloud out of curiosity.

He always pays for his order. He’s not the type to boast about what he has, and you’ll never know he was so kind until you’ve spoken to him. I guess, Amber said nonchalantly.

The guy behind the counter then added: And just in case you want to know, he’s here every Thursday around this time.

Amber grabbed her and Marshalee’s meals off the counter and told the guy behind the counter, Thanks and no, I didn’t want to know. But thanks anyway.

CHAPTER 2

No one was home besides Ms. Neta when Beatra’s boyfriend Carlos knocked on the front door. Carlos was a very handsome young man who stood 6 ft tall at eighteen years old.

Knock, knock, knock, knock!! Who is it? Ms. Neta yelled. Carlos.

Who? Carlos!

Come in! Ms. Neta yelled. Carlos pushed the door open and saw Ms. Neta with a towel wrapped around her body, as she was fresh out of the shower. To be forty-five years old, Ms. Neta most definitely had it going on. She had the body of a young woman; plumped and volumptuous; her stats were 24-42-36.

Iz, Iz, Iz Beatra home? Carlos finally managed to spit the words out of his mouth.

Ms. Neta laughed and mocked the young man with, Na, Na, Na, No, she ain’t home. Carlos had grown a massive errection, and through the Sean Jean sweatpants, it was no secret that Carlos was blessed. Ms. Neta asked, Boy, what you happy for?

Huh? Carlos responded lost. Ms. Neta guided her eyes down toward Carlos’ dick. Carlos looked down at himself, then tried to cover himself by using both his hands to push down his erection.

I’m so sorry, Ms. Neta, Carlos exclaimed. I didn’t know.

Boy, stop crying. It’s alright. Come upstairs and help put this lotion on my back before my skin dry up. Carlos followed Ms. Neta upstairs to her room where Ms. Neta waited for Carlos to enter the room before locking the door. Ms. Neta sat at the mirror of her dresser while moisturizing her arms. Carlos stood in the middle of the room looking around as if he were in a museum. "Carlos, are you gonna