Hittin' the Bricks: An Urban Erotic Tale Page 2

  Eva fought the urge, and as the wind screamed all she could think about was getting someplace dry where she could get herself right. She was a young girl but experience had taught her what would happen to her if she went up in one of the regular drug dens to do her thing. Like a lot of chicks, she might come out of one of those joints either raped or beaten, if she made it out at all. She gripped the small square of foil in her fist and pressed on. She was alone and afraid, jonesing in the night, and moments later she stood staring up at the windows of building 420. She knew people there. Her girl Sherri from junior high lived on the third floor with her crippled grandmother. Eva had come up on the streets with Sherri and a real cool dude named Reem Raw, a true friend who would fight any niggah in the street who so much as looked at either one of them wrong. But Reem had moved up to Harlem, and Sherri…Eva gazed at her friend’s window where a light shone from a bedroom. She saw movement. She took a step toward the building, but then remembered. Sherri was clean now. She’d washed her hands of all the shiesty things she and Eva had done together. Eva moved closer and the curtains fell closed. A shadow retreated from the window and the light went out.

  Friendless, Eva glanced around, searching for a spot. She was tempted to take her chances and run up in a project stairwell and get right real quick, but on a night like this there would be more predatory winos and pipe heads on the stairs than there were people living in the apartments. She would probably go into a nod and come out of it dead.

  A large basketball court was on her right and a parking lot was on her left. Eva thought about breaking into a parked car, but she didn’t have the strength. She didn’t have the time neither.

  Suddenly she thought of something better.

  Drunk Mister James.

  Drunk Nasty-Ass Mister James.

  Clenching her silver package, she scurried along the side of building 420. Her sleeve scraped against the building’s rough brick exterior. She hesitated at the mouth of the ramp that led down to the underground laundrymat and decided to take her chances. Sometimes Drunk Mister James was too lit to lock up on the weekends. Closing time would come and go, and the old man would be off, who the hell knew where, sipping on his cheap wine.

  With her dope safe and dry in her left hand, Eva’s bony fingers skimmed the rain-slick banister as she descended deeper down the ramp. Step by step, terror crept over her. Pitch blackness waited for her at the bottom, and probably a piper and a stray cat or two as well.

  “Oh…my God…please help me,” Eva moaned. Another pain seized her and she almost peed right there. She pressed her knees together, feeling hot and nauseous. Like she needed to shit and throw up at the same time. Determined, she moved deeper down the ramp, the wind kicking her in the ass. If she could just get someplace dry, she would be all right. She didn’t really care about the pain. She lived with pain on the regular. It was the dope sickness that was killing her.

  A sudden surge of vomit splashed at the back of her throat and Eva flung herself down the ramp. Her jones was riding her bad. Desperation wiped away her fear and she was ready to fight. If something bad was waiting to hurt her at the bottom of the ramp then it better be jonesing harder than she was.

  She stepped deeper into the darkness and stood before the closed door. Her hand slipped on the wet knob as she twisted it frantically. She almost couldn’t believe it when the door swung open and she was inside an empty foyer that was as big as her apartment. She was greeted by the smell of bleach and laundry detergent mixed with the moldy aroma of rank old piss. Drunk Mister James was a lazy ass. The Housing Authority paid him to keep the place clean and swept up, but even in the dark Eva knew the walls and pipes were covered with years’ worth of residual lint particles that spewed out of the ancient clothes dryers.

  She walked into the main room holding her hands out in front of her, willing her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The shadows were still as the wind raged outside, and Eva’s eyes darted over the large, spacious room. The project laundry was supposed to be used by the residents only, but Eva had been coming over here by herself since she was eight. She used to envy the project kids as she watched them from the fourth-floor window of her raggedy tenement. They had plenty of heat and hot water over there. And windows that closed all the way in the winter. Eva’s apartment building didn’t have a laundry room or much of anything else, so she would venture across the street and through the tall buildings to use the project laundry that Drunk Mister James ran. Rasheena didn’t even have to make her do it neither. At the age of eight Eva knew it was either cross the street so Drunk Mister James could sneak her in the storage closet and feel her nubby titties to see how big she was getting, or walk around in dirty clothes every day.

  The far left wall was lined with fifteen front-loading washers. At a dollar fifty a pop and ten minutes of lukewarm water, they were just another ghetto rip-off. Three large wooden tables stood in the center of the room. People often fought for folding space on these tables, and Eva’s eyes had adjusted well enough to make out several towels and shirts and other items that had been discarded or left behind by their careless owners.

  On her right were the clothes dryers. Eight of them. They were jumbo. Industrial-sized.

  Eva approached a middle dryer and pulled the metal handle on its large Plexiglas door. She stood trembling and wet as she gazed into the giant blackness. Her sickness rose again, and Eva leaned forward. Pain throbbed in her lower back and there was no room in her head for thought or fear. Every fiber in her being needed this. She climbed into the dryer and settled her small frame between its grooves. The metal was cold against her wet skin. Her teeth chattered as she scooted backward, pushing herself deeper inside.

  Eva sat cross-legged. She uncurled her fist and gazed at her fearsome package, then reached under her shirt and into her dirty bra. She pulled out the plastic baggie containing her works. Excitement surged through her the moment she held it. Her skin was slick with anticipatory sweat despite her rain-drenched clothes. She took off her panties, then removed the belt from her skirt and looped it around her bruised upper thigh. The bulging vein and scabbing track marks in her groin didn’t bother her. Nor did her hunger pangs. Neither did the warm liquid that had begun to seep from between her legs. She took out a spoon and hummed as she flicked her lighter, then cooked and made her preparations. Fast music played in her head and her stomach cramped again. Hard. Eva ignored it and held the thing she feared out in front of her. She flicked the tip with her middle finger. Twice.

  Anticipation had her head spinning. Soon she’d be in a place where there were no beatings, no hunger, and no pain. She withdrew the plunger then pressed it back in slowly. Liquid dribbled from the tip. Wrapping one end of the belt around her hand, Eva bit hard on the other end and jerked her head. Yanking it tight. Drool slid from her mouth and trickled down her chin. She sat there, head bent and gap-legged. Straining against the belt, Eva slapped the crease between her pelvis and her thigh. The sound echoed in the darkness as her body yearned. It was gonna feel sooo good. Her fear was turning into joy, and it was beautiful. The sharp tip glistened silver. She pressed it into her flesh like a pro, piercing a worn vein.

  Pure love shot through her. Her skin was on fire and her nipples tingled. Eva pumped the plunger in and out, sending pleasure waves from her vein straight to her brain. She rode those waves until her mouth went slack. The needle fell from her hand and her chin dropped to her chest. She had no idea how long she stayed like that. Nodding. Emerging briefly from the fog, just long enough to pick at the pus-filled sores on her arms and legs, and then dive back in again. Eva’s lips spread in a half smile. Music was in her head. In her stupor, she danced. She felt happy there. Safe. Eva would have loved to stay in her nod forever, but a pain so bone-grinding and graphic moved through her midsection that it blew her high and sent a scream flying from her lips.

  “Mommy…” she moaned, loosening the belt as a huge gush of water soaked her lower body. Eva was gripped in a tide of pain t
hat arched her back and ripped at the soft area between her vagina and ass. She patted her pussy, horrified as a hard mass bulged right there inside of her.

  What the…? The mass was forcing its way out. Making her push. Eva gripped her thighs and fought with her pelvic muscles. She pushed down three times and screamed into the darkness. Four pushes later it was in her hands and she lay back in the dryer, moaning. She could hear it, but she was too scared to look. Minutes later another wave of agony tore through her. Eva cried out and pushed again, then got freaked out by the hot glob of tissue that just seemed to roll out of her.

  She panicked. Crawling over everything she’d just pushed from her body, Eva jumped out the dryer and staggered over to one of the large folding tables. The back of her skirt was saturated and a trail of fluid splattered the floor behind her.

  Shock tried to paralyze her, but her panic was too great.

  “Oh shit, oh shit…” Eva cried out, her fear-filled words mingling with the small cries coming from the clothes dryer. She grabbed a discarded shirt from the table and pushed it between her legs. Her mind raced. Where in the hell had this thing been hiding? She was too skinny to hide a damn baby! She touched her stomach. It hadn’t even gotten big! Her period? Shit, she shot so much smack she couldn’t tell you the last time she’d had one. She had started her period at thirteen. Jahden had started getting her high and messing with her even before that. Eva held on to the table and took deep breaths, trying hard not to freak out.

  The soft cries were becoming demanding.

  Shut up! The noise was killing her. It sounded like a kitten was in the dryer. The mewing was pitiful and it scared the shit outta Eva and added to her confusion. What if I just leave it there? Ain’t nobody gotta know it was me…

  She crept back over to the clothes dryer. Her heart was jumping around in her chest and her head was spinning. The crying was louder, making her dizzy, like she wanted to black out.

  Run, stupid! Get the fuck outta here! Don’t nobody hafta know!

  Eva peered into the clothes dryer. Arms and legs waved in the air as the baby wriggled, naked on the cold metal. It was a boy. Eva’s hand found the door handle. She pushed against the dryer door…closing it. The baby’s cries grew fainter.

  Seconds later she flung the door open again. Eva reached out for it despite the voices that were screaming out warnings in her head. The baby was slippery in her arms. Soft and small. It was hers.

  Eva wrapped everything in the abandoned towels from the folding table. Drunk Mister James would be opening up at daybreak. Saturday was the busiest day of the week. Plenty of project folks would be lining up to fight over the washing machines, extractors, and dryers.

  Holding tight to her bundle, Eva stumbled weakly back to the folding tables. She had just lifted up her knee when a wave of exhaustion washed over her that was more draining than anything she had ever felt before. Crying, Eva scooted her weary body onto the table. She curled up with her baby cradled against her chest.

  Outside, the rain had stopped but the howling wind still screamed through the project buildings. Eva was bleeding bad and she knew she didn’t have much time. Just for a quick minute… she told herself, holding her baby close. She was weak and her young muscles felt like jelly. I’ma rest just for a minute. In tears, Eva kissed her baby’s forehead and slept.

  “Fuck ’em up, Papi!” Eva’s girlfriend, Alex, screamed as they watched a skinny Puerto Rican cat swirl around on the stage. He was packed out. Dude had titties, cleavage, ass, all that. He wore a purple mini-skirt and a skimpy white tank, and his bronze skin glowed under the stage lights. Holding tight to the glistening gold pole, he spread his pretty legs, arched his spine, and then threw his head south until it almost touched his phatty ass.

  “Pop that thang! Pop it, Papi! You workin’ it, boy!”

  “Sssh!!” Eva elbowed Alex in the ribs. “Why you gotta bust Georgie out like that? If these cats find out what he really is you know what’ll happen to him.”

  Alex was laughing. “Yeah, I know. They’ll take his prissy ass upstairs and beat him until his balls grow back.” She grinned. “Don’t worry about my brother, Eva. All them hormones got him puffed up real nice. Nobody would ever guess he’s got a little sausage hidden between his legs. His booty looks better than mine.”

  They were sitting in the front row of Club King. Eva had moved to Harlem four years ago, and loudmouth Alexandra Mercado was one of her closest friends. Alex looked over to the far wall where the lap dancers peddled their asses, then tapped Eva’s leg furiously, squealing under her breath.

  “Oooooh! Eva! That chick is over there ridin’ that niggah’s dick! They ain’t supposed to be doin no real fuckin’ in this damn club! Somebody’s ass is gonna get fired!”

  Eva looked over where Alex was pointing. Her girl was right. Some long-legged chick was straddling a dude and they was getting their gushy on for real! The look on dude’s face was indescribable. He had the ugly fuck-face going on like a real pro, and it was clear that the girl on his lap had some real good pussy. Eva and Alex watched with their mouths wide open. That chick was dancing in his lap all right. Her little short skirt was up around her waist and she was impaled on his long steel dick while the guy gripped two handfuls of her phat round ass. Every time he lifted her in the air his thick wet rod was visible going in and out of her snatch. The chick had her head thrown back and was bucking on him faster and faster, going after her nut full force like the last damn thing in the world she was worried about was a fuckin’ club job. Dude slammed her down hard a few times and then she fell forward on him, her head lolling over his shoulder. If the club management was gonna fire her then now would have been the time because girlfriend looked fucked totally out!

  Eva shook her head as Alex laughed like crazy. Eva was all for some good hot sex with the right man, but after the trauma she’d suffered at Jahden’s hands, it had taken her a long time to get to that point. Her sexual healing had come along in stages, and there were still times when she felt guilty and self-conscious about her past.

  “I’m ready to go,” she said, standing up. She sucked a cube of ice from her glass of Sprite and crunched it down to liquid. “You checked on your brother, Alex, and he’s looking good. Now can we get the hell outta here?”

  Alex grinned. She was a pretty redhead with a blessed body. Her family lived across the hall from Eva’s aunt Milena, and Alex had dreams of singing and dancing and becoming a big star one day.

  “Where we going next?”

  Eva pretended to think for a second. “How about that new club called Shakez on the Lower East Side?”

  Alex gave her a slick grin as they headed out the door.

  “Oh, I’m on you, heffah! You tryna scope out that guy we saw on 125th Street. The cute one who was selling bootleg CDs, DVDs, incense, musk and polka-dot socks, two pairs for three dollars.”

  “What damn guy?” Eva laughed.

  “Oh, bitch don’t front! The cat who was slobbering all over his damn table when you walked by! The one who had that big-ass camera hanging around his neck and took your picture! The one who told you he was gonna be rapping at Shakez this weekend and gave you those two free VIP laminates. That’s what fuckin’ guy!”

  Eva laughed again. Dude did have his mouth open as he checked her out. She had smiled as he took her picture, then laid some smooth words on him real quick, and by the time she strutted away, not only didn’t he have her number, but Eva had gotten another free laminate out of him for her girl India too.

  Even after four years of healing and nurturing it was still hard for Eva to believe that she looked as good as a lot of men seemed to think she did. She’d escaped from her nightmares in Brooklyn and found a home in Harlem with people who really loved her, but deep inside she was still that beat-down, bony little girl. The little girl who had been so abused that she stayed high, stayed hungry, and stayed hopeless and helpless. Life was different for Eva now. From the moment she arrived in Harlem she had hoped and drea
med for a better future. But old memories were hard to erase, and like always, she found herself checking out her arms self-consciously. The scabbed-over needle marks and extension-cord bruises had long since healed and were fading away. Whereas she used to walk around looking strung out and starved, Eva now had the kind of body that was a show stopper for real. Gone were the nasty sores and the festering boils from track marks in her groin. And gone was the pain and fear that Rasheena and Jahden had inflicted on her when she was too young and too scared to protect herself.

  “Oh, that guy?” Eva asked innocently as she switched her vicious hips past the bouncer and out the door. “Rappers ain’t all they got going at Shakez, Alex. They have talent shows and dance contests too, remember? But yeah, I might check that guy out if ain’t no other fine dudes up in there.”

  “Beeetch!!!” Alex’s happy self was all in her ear. “I know you, Evita! You wanted that guy. You was all up in his incense! Tryna spin his fuckin’ illegal CDs! Shit, I wanted his ass too. Dude was hot!”

  “Well cool ya red tail off. We gotta swing by the building and pick up India first, okay? That’s if Saint’s gonna let her hang out tonight.”

  Alex’s wide smile disappeared at the mention of Saint’s name. He was a cold-blooded drug dealer who’d been wrecking shit all over Harlem for the past two years. He’d started out as a runner and a look-out, then worked his way up to handling trap as a corner boy. It wasn’t long before he was running the local drug game. Alex’s younger brother had gotten robbed and killed in a crack spot last summer, and word on the streets was that Saint and his crew had orchestrated that shit.

  “I hate that Saint mothafucka,” Alex said as they jumped into a taxi and gave the driver directions to their crib. “I don’t know why India don’t just drop his homo thug ass and find a real baller.”

  Eva nodded in agreement, but deep inside she knew exactly why India couldn’t leave Saint. Eva had earned herself a street degree, and she knew some shit didn’t change whether you rested in Brooklyn or Harlem or even in the Bronx. You didn’t just bounce or walk away from a gangster like Saint just like that. You could end up shut the fuck down.