The Condos Behind The Music

I hate working at the goddamn mall. What's more, it's not like I work at a chain store either. I work in a Mom and Pop mall store that sells used cd's and pop culture shit. I think the stuff we sell is cool, and I have no problem with my bosses, but we should be a storefront downtown, not in a goddamned old-school, enclosed mall. Our foot traffic is non-existent.

One December 30th afternoon, during that fallow period between Christmas and New Years', after the return rush had ended, I was flipping through the news on my smartphone behind the counter. There were no customers, and there hadn't been since just before lunch. I was on until 5, at which time I was going to go home and watch a DVD on the new 47" screen I picked up on the ultra-cheap for Christmas ($200!),and reheat the last of my Mom's Christmas leftovers. I didn't have any date prospects for New Years Eve, and I had just decided to rent or buy a bunch of DVD's, and watch them and some Netflix picks all weekend. Sock into my apartment with a bunch of booze, food, and movies. That seemed to be the ticket. You know I was going to put the laptop on the big screen for some porn, too. Being a black man, I loved some good interracial porn, especially if it had super thick white women getting it good from some hung brothers.

That was also on the agenda for New Years'. A good goddamn jack off. K.K. split with me about four months ago, just as fall was starting. She found a new man, who had ends. Being as I've got another two years of school left and couldn't get it done this semester due to lack of funds, the money thing hurt. I liked K.K. quite a bit. She was charming, beautiful, and had a huge ass and thighs that I used to love to shove my black cock between, working her pussy until she coated my cock in her pussy juice, hoarsely panting unintelligible words. She was also working full time, and didn't understand days that I had to study weren't days off for me. So, when I had the laptop on and she would crawl up between my legs and begin to lick my cock through my underwear, she didn't get how I wanted to fuck later, not now, but we would fuck. She just didn't get it, and she would get mad and sulk, and then we wouldn't end up making love. So she met a brother about my age who was making it as a account manager at a bank...pardon me, a SENIOR account manager, pulling down $110 K a year, and promptly forgot about my 40 year old, trying to get an education degree so he can start his life over after a failed rap career ass.

Oh yeah, I didn't tell you...I was a popular indie rapper in my area in the late nineties and early aughts. My crew, the DeciBells, brought that heavy groove with harmony and street lyrics. My boy D-Mann made the beats, I helped dig for samples, rapped and sang and played keys and bass. EasyMac and Esteban the Inquisitor rapped. We got a lot of local and regional love, but couldn't really get the group to break nationally. After two major label releases that landed well outside the top 100, and an ill-advised self financed effort that didn't pay for itself, we ended up in debt, and jobless. Me and EasyMac filed for bankruptcy, Esteban got a job at the post office, and my beautiful brother, the mad genius D-Mann, got a job working for Puff Daddy, and produced like, six top forty hits. There was a little local outcry on the scene, people saying that D coulda helped us out more with all his success, but the truth was, he did. I squandered the gifts that he gave me, and he stopped giving them. We're cool, but I will get no more monetary support from D. I partied way too much, and now I'm paying the price.

Which brings me back to the mall the night before New Years Eve.

I was wishing I could close the store at about 4:30, when a woman walked in, and began to browse the hip hop cd's. She looked to be in her mid thirties but dressed a little younger. Tight jeans over a big ass, knee high boots with heels, with a bright red cotton sweater. Her lips were done in a shiny shade,with a lipliner framing her full lips.Slightly heavy eyeshadow and a boy-short red haircut with a long, streaked part in the front with oversized sunglasses keeping it out of her eyes finished off the look. She looked like a thicker version of a hip-hop video girl, with more tummy and breasts; the cleavage of the Christmas red v-neck was absolutely stunning.

"Y'all got anything by that old school crew, The DeciBells?" Her voice carried the rhythms of a life lived in close proximity to black folks. White folks who grow up in black neighborhoods are some of the most down motherfuckers ever.

I was shocked. "Actually we do," I said, playing it cool about being a DeciBell...which is easier, when most people want to give you crap about being D's practice team.

"They was from here. My uncle went to high school with The Inquisitor. He played some of those joints for me, and I was like, yeah, that shit is lit. I needed to get some for my holidays, since I ain't doing shit. Might as well listen to some good jams."

Wow. She's actually a fan. I decided to just let it ride out though. Talking about the band is not really one of my favorite subjects. I like to avoid it when I can. "Here, i'll show you where it is." I flipped through the D section until I got to the three copies we have of each of our records. "There you go." I turned back towards the counter, and went behind it to make a sale.

A funny look crossed her face, those full, copper-shaded lips twisting in a grimace.

"Hey, fuck you."

She twisted on her heel, and stalked out, her big beautiful ass swaying as she quick stepped out of the entrance.

What the hell just happened?

Saturday the 31st dawned clear and cold, and the shop was only open noon to five. I had gone to the grocery the night before and picked up a steak and some potatoes, and a head of broccoli, a bottle of decent mid-shelf wine, and a bottle of crappy champagne. I had seen my weed man, so I had a half oz. of sticky-icky to smoke, plus I had some sweets left over from Christmas, and a huge bag of potato chips. Along with the four beers I had left from the little party that the store had, I was stocked for my little loneliness party.All I had to do was make it through five hours of numbing boredom, and I could eat, drink, and smoke myself into a much needed, well deserved coma.

At about 2:30, she came in again, this time in a green sweatsuit over a tank top straining at the weight of her boobs, the training pants making an unbroken smooth plane over her large ass cheeks, proving she wore a thong, or nothing, underneath. I wanted to touch her ass, to bring her home with me and cook her steak, and laugh with her, but that was the loneliness talking. This bitch was crazy. She got in line behind a woman buying a used DVD copy of Full House, and took her sunglasses off. Her brown eyes, heavily made up again, looked contrite.

The customer finished her transaction and the crazy woman approached me.

"Look, yo...I'm sorry. I got caught up...you're Fisticuffs, aren't you? The rapper, used to run with Esteban and them? My uncle told me you worked here, I had to see for myself. I love your music."

"Hell of a way to show it. Ask for my shit, then curse me out."

"Look, I'm sorry. I thought you'd be nicer or something. Then I realized you were at your job, and...I'm sorry OK? Please. I want all your discs. My house got flooded last year, I lost all my old discs. Your music got me through some real hard times in my life, know what I'm saying?"

I thought about it. Honestly, it just doesn't matter that much. That part of my life is over. I walked over to the cd's, grabbed the DeciBells albums and gave them to her. "Here you go. Free of charge."

"No," she said

"Yes," I said. "Take them. They should go to where someone will listen to them. Instead of sitting here collecting dust."

"Dag..." she said, in disbelief. "Thank you!"

"Well, Happy New Year to you. You should go in and get ready. I'm sure you've got a full night planned."

"Actually, I don't. I was going to curl the fuck up on my couch. Binge on some How to Get away with Murder. Smoke some get-high. Maybe eat some food."

Her night sounded eerily similar to mine. "Sounds there's a lot of that going around."

"You going out?" She asked

"Nope. I spent my last dollars on food, booze, and weed. I'mma hit the couch and I'm not getting up until Tuesday."

She laughed, and then a mischievous smirk appeared. "You want some company?"

"Don't tell me someone like you is all alone on New Years'."

"Uh, yeah. My ex tried to push up at this Christmas party, but he was trying to pull some shady bullshit, so I said the hell with that. And I'm serious. Getting to spend New Years with Fisticuffs? Sounds like a plan."

"Really? 'Cause folks around here seem to think I'm pretty corny. Feeling like LL's cheesy rat."

She laughed out loud at that. "Shit, at least you got a job. Most of these other motherfuckers out here act like they hard gangsters or dope rappers. I just would like someone to be real, you feel me? You actually have been there. Done that. And came out the other side. Tell you what. How about I come over to your place and we get comfy and find a flick. Toast in the new year with no pressure."

I leapt at the chance for female company.

"Yes,please. I been alone for awhile. It would be nice to hang with someone."

"Now don't get the wrong idea. I ain't some easy ho. I'm just...I'm just lonely, and it would be nice to be with someone tonight, instead of by myself. We know some of the same people, we from the same place."

"I hear that. I been alone for quite a while. Companionship isn't about sex." Although I for sure wouldn't mind seeing how that pussy tastes, I'm gonna settle for the togetherness. It's better than I could have hoped for.

"What time were you thinking?" I asked.

"And, I don't even know your name."

"TaShaunna."

"Really?"

"What?" She said, smiling now, a good one. Full copper lips around large, even teeth that brightened her brown eyes to a coffee like shade. "Sound like a black girl's name? I've gotten it my whole life. My mom thought she was black. My girls call me Shaun. Where do you live? I should be able to be anywhere by eight."

"I'm over in those condominiums on the south side. Only thing that was left after the flame out. Here, let me give you my phone number..."

"I'll give you mine, and you text me." She said.

After the 21st century equivalent of exchanging business cards was over, she scooped up a collection of DMX hits and a used copy of Carole King's "Tapestry", which was surprising ("Fuck you if you don't like it." She said. "It reminds me of my mom.") I actually love music from the seventies, but I still gave her shit for it. She stuck her tongue out at me, smiled with all of her teeth again, and said she'd see me at eight.

As I left the mall that night, I pulled up the mats on my 2001 Acura that thankfully still ran well, and looked for the ten dollar bill that I lost the week before. Since I hadn't been planning on entertaining, and was ass-out of money til payday, getting something to stretch my pantry was going to be difficult. Just as I was wondering about getting something to pawn, my phone gave it's text bleat.

Don't worry about getting me food. I'll bring something over that I can cook.

Me: Cool. I have a steak, if that helps.

TaShaunna: I'll bring a steak then! Potatoes?

Me: Yeah. And I have broccoli.

TaShaunna: I got drinks. We gonna Paaaartaaayy!

Fuck eight o'clock! I'll be there in an hour. Let's cook it up!

Me: Right on! Yup yup!!

An hour? Shit. Mad cleaning needed to be done if a woman was coming over.

I drove home like a madman, hit the garage door opener and pulled in. My place is in an apartment style condo development, and a series of small miracles happened to enable me to keep it after the band exploded. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, laundry and living space. It's not much, but it's mine. I swept through the place like a tornado, throwing clothes into the hamper, sweeping papers and books off of the tables, glad that I had thought to run a load of dishes the night before. After about 30 minutes of frantic cleaning, I grabbed a one piece lounger body suit (another relic from the rap star days, but I didn't have anything else clean.) and ran into the shower, washed, shaved, and dressed in the '70's style, mid-zip front outfit. It had a sleeveless top and boxer brief legs that were tight on my thighs and ass, so I found a pair of black sweats that passed the smell test, and threw those on over. Yanked on my heavy bathrobe, and grabbed the garbage, popped the garage door, and ran it out to the dumpster as my neighbor Carter hustled through the cold to his front door. He waved and shouted "Happy New Year!" as he held the door for two young women, one thick and hippy with a skintight green dress on, the other thin and petite, with a sleek black slacks and blouse hookup on, with reflective aviator sunglasses oddly topping the ensemble. I hurled the trash bag into the dumpster, dropped the recycling in the bin, and scrambled back inside.

Just as I pulled the steak from the fridge to warm up on the counter, my phone made its text noise.

TaShaunna: I'm on my way. Ten minutes.

Me: The spot is clean, and I await your arrival. Bring it!

TaShaunna: I intend to! (Wink emoji)

I pulled out the rest of my meal ingredients, and sat down to wait for her. Turned on a '90's Hip Hop playlist, and vibed out to Craig Mack's "Flava in ya Ear" while I broke up enough green bud to roll a decent sized joint. Gone were the days when I would roll $100 blunts and get so stoned I could barely track my own thoughts. Nowadays, my life requires me to be an active participant, and the weed needs to last longer. Normally, I'd be smoking one hitters, but hey, the prospect of actually hanging out with someone had me a little giddy, and we're partying, so whatever.

Just as I tossed down the bathrobe and picked up a black hoodie sweatshirt, there was a knock on the door. I stepped to the front door and opened it. TaShaunna, carrying a plastic shopping bag and a cooler bag, stepped into the place. After taking her bags, I returned just in time for her to come back into the apartment with a shoulder bag she went back to retrieve.

"Hey," she said "I think I may want to get comfortable before we start cooking. Can I change in your bathroom?"

"For sure," I said, gesturing at my outfit. "I already did."

As she stepped into the bathroom, I took out two large ribeye steaks, two massive deli made heat and eat twice baked potatoes, and four large broccoli crowns from her bags. She had also brought much better champagne than I had, along with a bottle of vodka, red wine, and two different sodas, orange and cranberry juice. And a frozen pie, which I tucked into the freezer.

"You might as well leave it out. It's got to thaw for like two hours." Her voice said behind me.

I turned, and couldn't really get words out. She wasn't wearing lingerie, but she might as well have. Black leggings that were the slightest bit sheer looked sprayed on her thick calves and thighs. The black square-neck tank she wore barely contained her bra less 40+ E-cup tits, and the hemline stopped above her tremendous ass, which looked like J-Lo's ass increased to two and a half times it's size. A short cardigan covered her, but her cleavage was still very prominent and extremely voluptuous. The tights stopped at the ankle, exposing a small expanse of ankle before disappearing into a ballet flat slipper. She looked so goddamn good I was glad I had sweats on. My cock was definitely responding.

"Don't get it twisted," I thought to myself "Get to know her, have a good time, and jack off when she leaves."

"How do you like your steak?" I asked.

"Medium rare, please. We can put those potatoes in the microwave for ten minutes, and get a pot so I can steam this broccoli."

I fetched the big pot for her, and we began to cook our meal, rapping along to the classics, doing silly dance moves, and generally behaving as if we had been a couple for awhile. The domesticity aspect of what we were doing only served to amp up my horniness, and I couldn't be sure,but it looked to me that TaShaunna bent over to fiddle in the lower kitchen cabinet a few times when she didn't need to, especially when I was standing behind her, pressing her big surprisingly firm ass against my now constant bulge.

When our meal was ready, I brought it to the table, we poured some wine, and began to eat. I had lucked out, nailing the steaks, and the whole thing was satisfying.

About halfway through the meal, TaShaunna looked at me and said "Brian?" (My real name. You didn't think my Mama named me Fisticuffs, did you?) " Why did the Decibells break up?"

I suppose I knew this was coming.

I finished chewing, took a sip of wine, and started the whole sordid story.

"Too many women, too many drugs,and not enough sense. Easymac might not ever get his life right. Last time I talked to him, he couldn't keep a job, and said he might have to file for bankruptcy. Again. The second time in ten years. I finish this damn degree I'm working on, I will never work in a mall again."

"I hear that. So glad I don't work retail anymore."

"What do you do?"

"I work at a doctors office. I'm an RN, but I have office experience, too, so I do both. I was glad to get out of minimum wage jobs. My mother pushed me through school, even while my friends were all getting pregnant and fucking up. When I got in the nurse program at Freedom Hill Community College, my mother picked up extra shifts to pay for school. She's a badass.Was."

The self correction hung in the air like rank gas.

"When did you lose her?" I asked softly.

"Three years ago." TaShaunna put her fork down, picked up her napkin and carefully wiped her eyes. "She got some bad infection, beat it, but it messed her up. She had a stroke, and it beat her down. She spent the last year of her life in bed, cursing at Fox News, and screaming about how could they fuck with a good man like President Obama. I love her and miss her every day."

"Dad around?"

"Fuck that asshole. He left us when I was 6, the classic going out for a pack of smokes and never came back. He reconnected with me when I was 17, but he had a whole new family, and he was an asshole to them, too. My half sister is pretty cool, though. He gave me a bunch of crap for acting like a black girl back then. All my good, ride or die girlfriends are black, all of my boyfriends have been black, I get along better with the black doctor at my office than the white or Indian one. I've just always felt at home with black folks."

"See," I said , scraping out the end of my twice baked potato, and pairing it with my last bite of steak. " I always felt comfortable around whites. Going to predominantly white schools, doing a year of college. My Dad was upset when I left school to concentrate on music, but we got to understand each other before he passed away. I really wish he could see me when I graduate. Finishing what I started."

She pushed away from the table and said "Yes! Now that's what I'm talking about in a meal. Let's do something, and stop talking about this depressing shit. I like you, Brian. You wanna watch a movie?"

I finished chewing and said "Of course. I am digging on you as well, Shaun. Is there anything you would prefer?"

"I don't care. Something funny? And we could smoke that joint and laugh some?"

"Coming right up."

She stepped into the restroom while I searched Netflix for a good, raucous comedy. Saying the hell with it, I grabbed my DVD copy of "Harold and Kumar go to White Castle" and threw it on.

"Stoner comedy?" I said, when she returned.

"Sure! This movie makes me laugh everytime!"