I thought I was going to have a stroke. I grabbed her hips, raised her to me, and kissed her for what felt like three days. I could taste the long night on her busted lip, like crumbs of bitter and sweet dried blood, raw, like heaven.
4.
I laid her on my mattress, took her cap off, kissed the cut on her forehead, and worked my way down the length of her body, stopping at her breasts. I then lost myself between her legs. Next thing I knew, I was lying naked, drained and dreary, with my hands locked beneath my head, hoping she’d never leave.
She got up and grabbed her shorts.
“This can’t ever happen again,” she said as she dressed.
I didn’t understand. But then again, it made perfect sense. “Yes,” I said. “You sure run hot and cold though, Miss Teena.”
“Whatever. And stop fucking calling me Miss Teena, you sound like a fucking retard.”
“Did you like it?” I asked.
“What just happened here was a mercy fuck, and a fuck you to my poor excuse of a man,” she said, sidestepping the question.
“Are you sure this is one-and-done? ’Cause I’m pretty sure you enjoyed it. I know I did, but I’m betting you enjoyed it too.”
“Red!” Teena yelled. She turned to me, her face softening. She whispered, “Shut the fuck up, okay?”
I knew then I’d see her again, so I shut the fuck up.
She left and I felt hungry. I still had a few hours to kill before my shift, so I figured I’d get a pizza pie, eat a few slices now, and save the rest for later. I chose not to wash up. I wanted to keep Teena on me.
5.
I grabbed a slice of pizza from Paisan, and walked back, taking Dwight. As I turned onto 9th, I could see the flashing lights of the Berkeley PD, three squad cars strong, right in front of my building. I picked up the pace imagining the worst possible scenario — Teena’s man murdered her and dumped her in my apartment. I thought maybe I should have taken that shower after all. But it wasn’t Teena the cops were trying to resuscitate. It was her friend slumped over on the sidewalk, some nasty shit coming out the side of her mouth. She was being questioned and slapped around by a couple of police officers. I could hear the sirens of the ambulance on its way.
There were a lot of curious people about. I looked around for Teena, but she was ghost, and rightly so.
As I passed the cops and the girl, I said, “Never a dull moment, huh, fellas?”
“What did you say?” asked one of the officers.
I kept walking.
“Hey!” came another voice. When I turned to look, two cops were headed toward me. “My partner asked you a question. We heard you say something and we’d like you to repeat it. Can you do that for us?”
The focus of the crowd shifted.
“I said, Never a dull moment, huh?”
The cops looked at each other. They’d done this before.
“You just moved in, right? Apartment 5?”
I didn’t answer.
“Is this one of Greg’s?” asked the smaller cop.
“Yeah. I’d say two, three days, if even,” answered the other. Then, directing his attention toward me again, “You were out here yesterday.”
“That true?” asked his partner.
I said nothing. I felt like spitting in their fucking faces.
“What’s the matter? Nothing smart to say?” said the taller cop.
“Can I be excused, Dad? I’d like to eat my pizza before it gets cold, and I need to get ready for work.” As I scanned the crowd, I noticed a few people holding up their phones. This was not good.
“A workingman,” he said, like he was impressed.
“Thanks for your help, sir! You know how to get ahold of us if you have any more information. G’night,” said the smaller cop loud enough for everyone around to hear.
Motherfucker. I wanted death to take them both right then and there.
6.
I opened the door to my apartment and the disheveled sheets on my bed and the lingering scent of Teena had an intoxicating effect on me. I closed my eyes until it passed. I hadn’t even made it to the kitchen when I heard the knock. I was hoping it was Teena, but the knock itself told me otherwise. I opened the door anyway.
“What up, jailbird?” said the man I assumed was her man. “Mind if I come in?”
He didn’t wait for my response; he just moved around me and entered. He had two long braids in his very blond hair, and a few gold teeth scattered in deliberate locations in his mouth. His jeans were hanging low enough to show red basketball shorts. I was surprised by how white he was. I mean, I know the hood has all types and poverty and hustle can be colorblind, but this cat epitomized the definition of caricature. I just wasn’t expecting it. I figured it would take him all of two hours inside to get with his Aryan brothers.
He walked straight into the kitchen and sat on the counter. “Damn, dude. It smells like you just got freaky up in here. Was she good?”
“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” I didn’t want to give anything away.
“Yeah, motherfucker, you know me, just not officially.”
I waited for him to say he knew about Teena and me. I clenched my teeth and stopped myself from clenching my fists. I could see the butt of his Glock 9 protruding from his waistband.
“I’m the one who told you to keep walkin’ yesterday. Remember?”
Between the cops and now this piece of shit, I wanted so badly to beat him into oblivion and dump his body at Aquatic Park.
“Yo, you better stop lookin’ at me like that, jailbird. I didn’t come here to hurt you, but you keep givin’ me those dirty looks like you wanna do me harm, I will sure enough end you right here, right now. You feel me?”
I wasn’t feeling him at all. “What do you want?” I asked.
“I want to know what you and the po-po talked about out there. I saw you was chattin’ ’em up.”
“What business is that of yours? I don’t even know you, and I couldn’t give less of a fuck.”
He hopped off the kitchen counter and tried staring me down, pushing his chest out. I didn’t budge.
Through my window I noticed Teena walking out into the parking lot. She lit up a cigarette. She was checking us out and I suddenly felt brave.
“Whatever you’re going to do, I suggest you do it quick. I’m fucking hungry and really need to get ready for work.”
He grinned. “I know you just got out and shit, and you don’t really know how things work around here, so I’ma fill you in. My name’s KJ. I live upstairs in 15. I’ma talk straight and keep it a hundred: this ain’t the joint, my brother. Out here you will get done in a motherfuckin’ heartbeat and it’ll be a few days before your body’s found, if they find it. I got too much shit goin’ on up in here, shit that can’t be compromised, you feel me? So when you, or anyone else around here, be talkin’ to the cops, it gets me a little nervous. And when I get nervous...” He touched his pistol for effect. “So, I’ma ask you one more time, nice-like. What were you talkin’ to the cops about?” And now he pulled the Glock from his jeans and held it in his right hand.
“Hey, baby! What you doin’ in there with that ex-con, baby? He fuckin’ with you?”
“Mind your business, Teena. Go upstairs.”