ejaculation. He wanted to scream for her to stop, but he didn't dare. Dropping the lighter, he sank back onto the pillows. He never saw Juanita's sly smile as she headed for the bathroom to rinse out her mouth.
6
TWO-AND-A-HALF WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE DON'S first hit of the crackpipe. He had spent every last cent of the money he had stolen from his friends. It had taken the connivance of his girlfriend and the space of a little over a month and a half to change him from a friendly, outgoing youth into a paranoid recluse. Juanita was his constant companion. He ventured outside the safe confines of his home only for crack or cigarettes.
Dark circles appeared under his eyes from lack of sleep; his weight dropped off by the pounds. His diet consisted of candy bars, Cheetos, and chicken wings. Don's once unblemished face was now pockmarked with pimples and blackheads.
For a time his friends still tried to kick it with him, but they found him distant. They were unaware that his growing crack habit was responsible for his aloofness. He began to borrow money from them and never repaid it. Dre, his best friend since third grade, knew that Don was going through a thang, but he didn't suspect that his troubles stemmed from drug abuse. Not one to abandon a friend, Dre tried for a while to tolerate Don's moodiness, but even he began to fade out of the picture.
Rhonda had no idea of what was going on with her little brother. She blamed Juanita for all of her brother's recent changes. All she knew was that before Juanita started coming around her brother seemed normal. Rhonda hated the hold Juanita seemed to have over Don—she couldn't stand the girl. It was exasperating to see that young tramp leading her brother around by the nose.
One Saturday morning when Juanita walked to the store to buy a couple of loose cigarettes, Rhonda decided to try and talk to her brother about his girlfriend. She knocked on his door.
“Who that?” Don asked as he duffed the pipe he was cleaning under his pillow.
“It's Rhonda,” she said sweetly. “I want to holler at you for a minute.”
“What you want?”
“Boy, let me in this damn room.”
“Hold on,” Don said as his eyes swept the room to makesure there wasn't any incriminating paraphernalia laying around. Content that he could stand a light inspection, he walked over to the door and lifted the latch. “Come in, girl.”
Rhonda entered the room, noticing a strange burnt odor, but she didn't know what it was. She looked over at her brother. He had returned to his bed and flopped across it. “You need to let some air in this damn room, boy. It stink in here. I hope that ain't yo feet smelling like mildewed cardboard.”
Don raised his middle finger. “I know you ain't bother me just to tell me that my room stank. You worry about your room and I'll worry about mine. What you want?”
“Look boy, I just came up here to see what's up with my little brother.”
“What you mean what's up with me? Shit.”
“Something's up. You don't kick it with yo buddies no more. No basketball. A couple of weeks ago you couldn't be paid to stay in the house, now it seem like you never leave. You used to attempt to go to school, but a letter came from the school saying that you haven't attended school this semester. I ain't even showed it to Mama yet.”
“She don't care. If it ain't got nothing to do with them fucking cops, a schoolbook, or her faggot-ass man, she don't want to know nothing about it.”
“Mama do care. It's just that for the first time in a long time she got a chance to be happy. She ain't got to be herenursemaiding us. We grown. Well I am anyway, you just think you grown. Laying up with that little hood booger.”
“That's what this about. Juanita. You just don't like her. Well, you ain't got to like her. She's my woman. What yo lonely ass need to do is get you a man so you can stop worrying about what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with. Sound like you jelly of
6
TWO-AND-A-HALF WEEKS HAD PASSED SINCE DON'S first hit of the crackpipe. He had spent every last cent of the money he had stolen from his friends. It had taken the connivance of his girlfriend and the space of a little over a month and a half to change him from a friendly, outgoing youth into a paranoid recluse. Juanita was his constant companion. He ventured outside the safe confines of his home only for crack or cigarettes.
Dark circles appeared under his eyes from lack of sleep; his weight dropped off by the pounds. His diet consisted of candy bars, Cheetos, and chicken wings. Don's once unblemished face was now pockmarked with pimples and blackheads.
For a time his friends still tried to kick it with him, but they found him distant. They were unaware that his growing crack habit was responsible for his aloofness. He began to borrow money from them and never repaid it. Dre, his best friend since third grade, knew that Don was going through a thang, but he didn't suspect that his troubles stemmed from drug abuse. Not one to abandon a friend, Dre tried for a while to tolerate Don's moodiness, but even he began to fade out of the picture.
Rhonda had no idea of what was going on with her little brother. She blamed Juanita for all of her brother's recent changes. All she knew was that before Juanita started coming around her brother seemed normal. Rhonda hated the hold Juanita seemed to have over Don—she couldn't stand the girl. It was exasperating to see that young tramp leading her brother around by the nose.
One Saturday morning when Juanita walked to the store to buy a couple of loose cigarettes, Rhonda decided to try and talk to her brother about his girlfriend. She knocked on his door.
“Who that?” Don asked as he duffed the pipe he was cleaning under his pillow.
“It's Rhonda,” she said sweetly. “I want to holler at you for a minute.”
“What you want?”
“Boy, let me in this damn room.”
“Hold on,” Don said as his eyes swept the room to makesure there wasn't any incriminating paraphernalia laying around. Content that he could stand a light inspection, he walked over to the door and lifted the latch. “Come in, girl.”
Rhonda entered the room, noticing a strange burnt odor, but she didn't know what it was. She looked over at her brother. He had returned to his bed and flopped across it. “You need to let some air in this damn room, boy. It stink in here. I hope that ain't yo feet smelling like mildewed cardboard.”
Don raised his middle finger. “I know you ain't bother me just to tell me that my room stank. You worry about your room and I'll worry about mine. What you want?”
“Look boy, I just came up here to see what's up with my little brother.”
“What you mean what's up with me? Shit.”
“Something's up. You don't kick it with yo buddies no more. No basketball. A couple of weeks ago you couldn't be paid to stay in the house, now it seem like you never leave. You used to attempt to go to school, but a letter came from the school saying that you haven't attended school this semester. I ain't even showed it to Mama yet.”
“She don't care. If it ain't got nothing to do with them fucking cops, a schoolbook, or her faggot-ass man, she don't want to know nothing about it.”
“Mama do care. It's just that for the first time in a long time she got a chance to be happy. She ain't got to be herenursemaiding us. We grown. Well I am anyway, you just think you grown. Laying up with that little hood booger.”
“That's what this about. Juanita. You just don't like her. Well, you ain't got to like her. She's my woman. What yo lonely ass need to do is get you a man so you can stop worrying about what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with. Sound like you jelly of
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