ICEY is an urban erotic tale about a stripper and sex-toy designer, Icey, who falls for a big-time hustler. Things get sticky when her friend, Laila, decides she wants a piece of Icey’s discarded pie. Icey makes a choice that could cost her family and life: using HIV to punish their betrayal. Icey’s plan backfires when Laila begins sleeping with Icey’s brother again.
I have enclosed the first three chapters to ICEY for your review. I hope you find it to be captivating, enthralling, and entertaining. Thanks for your time.
Sincerely,
Tika
Bio
Tika is from Atlanta, GA. Her previous works include Shame! and Chance of Heat. In her free time, she enjoys traveling, shopping, surfing the web and the Green movement. ICEY is her third novel.
Blurb
When Roxanne “Icey” Smith meets Re-Up, a generous hustler, she doesn’t think that falling for him will be so easy. Re-Up’s sexual game gives Icey a reason to leave other men –and the strip club –alone. Dangerous conditions cause Icey to let Re-Up go.
Laila Smith, Icey’s best friend, grew jealous of Icey over the years. She finally finds a good man who doesn’t dog her or go to prison like Icey’s brother, Shawn, did –Re-Up. The satisfaction Laila experiences with Re-Up is worth losing Icey’s friendship.
When Icey discovers that her best friend is messing with the man she loved, she does a shocking act to punish those who betrayed her...for the rest of their lives.
Will Icey’s plot teach Laila and Re-Up not to betray others, or will her plot to scar them come back to haunt her?
Icey makes a dangerous move that could be her last.
ICEY
ICEY, 26, arrogant, shapely stripper, is money hungry with a fan club willing to spend. RE-UP, 32, street hustler turned business owner, craves sex and attention from Icey. Icey and Re-Up have sex on the roadside. LAILA, 26, Icey’s friend, struggles with co-dependency, unemployment, and weight issues. Icey longs for her long-lost father, DANIEL, and incarcerated brother, SHAWN. Re-Up moves in with Icey after a flood. Icey poisons Re-Up with No-Doz –triggering his diabetes. Laila sleeps with her baby daddy and catches the disease Trich. Shawn fights his bunky and thinks of rekindling with Laila, but has a male lover. Icey catches Trich from Laila’s toilet, assuming Re-Up gave it to her –he denies it. Re-Up sexes his secretary, ANNETTE. Icey attends FIT in New York.
Shawn goes home. Laila gets a job and buys a house. Laila and Shawn rekindle during Christmastime. Icey’s man, JEREMY, is killed while with Icey on New Year’s. Icey’s mom, MARY snaps on Shawn before killing her husband, PHILLIP. Shawn recalls Daniel teasing him. Icey starts a sex-toy company. Laila and Re-Up meet –independently plotting on Icey. Shawn visits Icey in NY and has a tryst with her friend, GREGORY. Mary confesses to Icey that she pushed Daniel away. Icey gets a transsexual, MIZZ PEACHEZ to plot against Re-Up for sexing Laila. Mizz Peachez mentors lustful Shawn. Icey releases anger on Shawn. Mizz Peachez has a full-blown AIDS infected girl sex Re-Up raw in a strip club.
Icey warns Shawn not to sex Laila again, but he screws Laila while high on ecstasy. Re-Up is hospitalized for diabetes/AIDS complications. Icey discovers Shawn is on the down low, disowning him. Icey kills Re-Up and mocks Laila’s condition. Icey discovers Shawn sexed infected Laila; Shawn reveals he already had HIV. Mizz Peachez reveals she’s really Daniel.
ICEY
A novel by
Tika Truitt
This book is dedicated to Yolanda Delois Diamond and Tiffani Reonna Thomas,
two of the most loyal people on earth.
I love you.
Chapter 1 –Iceylicious
“Got the body of a goddess, got eyes butter-pecan brown, I see you girl... you know, she coming down from the ceiling, to the floor, yeah...” Re-Up sang along to the words of T-Pain as his favorite stripper, Icey, came down the pole.
Icey’s dewy butter-pecan skin glistened under the dim club lights. She had a rump to make even Trina pull over. It ran in the family: Icey’s mom, aunts and cousins all had curves to die for. Good thing, Icey thought, that I’m stacked and getting money, cause this recession had everybody trippin. Come through Barack!
As Icey gathered her tips into a large cardboard box, Re-Up hollered for her. “What’s happenin Icey? Comin wit me to the Marquis or what?” He showcased the bright 18-karat golds at the bottom of his mouth.
Hell yeah Imma take yo money. “Re-Up! It’s only 1 a.m.; I can still get plenty of cash.”
Re-Up knew all the guys in the club had their eyes on Icey, but he knew that he was the only one who could handle her. She was ice cold, liable to do anyone in quick. It didn’t matter; her creamy taste was so good to him.
“Icey, I got five hunned to stick my tongue in the cock of yo ass!”
Icey turned around to see who might have overheard his comment. “Boy you know you need to quit! Anyone could hear you!”
“I don’t give a shit! It’s the truth. I want some of that Cajun flavor, cuz that ass is hot!”
Icey chuckled, her deep dimples rising up. “Let me get my stuff. Hold on, hot boy.”
As Icey went towards the dressing room, she made sure to swerve her hips in a seductive manner, so Re-Up would have a preview of things to come. She was certain that Re-Up was harder than Brick City. Several minutes later, Icey reappeared wearing the latest Phillip Lim 3.1 dress, which hugged every ample curve of her body. She looked better than Beyoncé on the ubёr sexy “Single Ladies” video.
Re-Up yawned, cupping his mouth with his chocolate hands. He took one look at Icey and was instantly aroused. “Yuh! Damn girl, you killin em,” he complimented.
“Damn right. There’s no other way to do it playboy. That’s why I’m your playgirl.”
I couldn’t have said it better. “Let’s do this.”
Icey followed Re-Up to his titanium-toned Infiniti Q56 SUV, giving him a tight embrace before letting him know that she’d follow. Icey silenced the alarm on her 2008 neon green Dodge Charger, with black racing stripes. As she started the engine, the sounds of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club” filled her vehicle. She sang along with 50. “They like me, I want ‘em to love me like they love ‘Pac...”
Re-Up swerved through the lanes on I-20 as he anticipated the main event with Icey. He was tired from a long day, but never too tired to get blown, especially when it came to a fine piece of candy like Icey. He wasn’t playing with fire, but ice. The bitch was cold, ice cold. Icey could be compared to liquid nitrogen –she could disintegrate a nigga.
While Icey drove with her left hand, she used her right hand to manipulate beneath her dress –touching the thin silk Frederick’s of Hollywood panties. She dipped inside her underwear and touched her wetness. She was so wet that she felt like warm milk was on her pussy. Her thick pussy was hot and ready for the touch. She stuck two fingers inside and hunched as she mashed down on the gas, closing in on Re-Up. Out of control, she pulled along the shoulder of the road.
Re-Up saw Icey pulling over to the side of the road. “What the fuck?” he scoffed, as he deeply inhaled a blueberry blunt. This better be good.
Come on Re-Up; get your ass over here. Icey laughed at the freaky thought that went through her mind. She moved her right leg to the other seat as she straddled the gearshift.
Re-Up stopped his car a few feet in front of Icey and went over to her car. He pulled open her passenger seat door, gasping at what he saw. “Oh shit! Damn you!” His dick immediately went to attention, saluting the performance she did to her car. He pledged allegiance to Icey –fuck America.
Icey moaned louder than Jasmine Cashmere in a three-dick flick, as she rocked on the gearshift. “Come join me.”
“Absolutely.”
Re-Up’s reply reminded Icey of the scene in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, when Brad Pitt accepted the invitation to get laid. “Ooh Re-Up, this ass is so hot and wet! Come taste me!” She ran her tongue across the Chanel gloss on her full pout.
Icey laughed as Re-Up eagerly licked her from clit to ass. She had a politician –a fat asshole. “Ooh, I love the way you lick this ass, Re-Up,” she moaned.
Re-Up began latching on to her asshole –using his lips as a suction cup, driving her insane. She gripped the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white. Icey bounced her ample butt on Re-Up’s tongue –while he moved his head as if he was gargling mouthwash.
“Get it Re-Up! Get it!” Icey screamed as she gushed on the seats.
Icey licked her lips again. She felt better than a junkie did on the first of the month. She made a kissing sound and rolled over.
Re-Up licked his cum-covered lips. “You ready for some of this brick?” He gripped his ten-inch erection.
“What you say? I can’t hear you; you must have something in your mouth.”
Re-Up wiped cum off his face. “Wha—”
“Nigga please. You done fucked up my seats and you think you finna fuck? It’s two stacks now.” She held out her palm –ready to collect.
“Man...what the fuck? Come on Icey!” He licked his sugary-coated lips again.
“Do I look like a man to you? Oh, by the way: I already came.” Icey slid her dress back on while thinking, why are you actin so hard, you know he got that good good.
Re-Up coughed up the money, though his dick was pissed off –but thoughts of eating Icey would help him beat his dick later.
Chapter 2- A Lil Advice
Icey sat on the edge of her Queen Anne bed, flipping through the pages of Cosmopolitan. “Dang, I got to try that sex trick,” she referred to The Tangle, a hot position with both lovers intertwined.
Icey’s best and only friend, Laila, called. “Girl, what’s good?” They both were twenty-five, but Laila had had the body of a chunky teenager ever since they were in high school.
“Girl, I’m reading up on these sex tricks. I got to get my edumication!”
Laila laughed hard. “Maybe you could teach me about those sex tricks.”
“Before you can do tricks, you need a man,” Icey said in her southern drawl.
“Dang Icey.” Laila had had only two boyfriends in her life, whereas Icey had been with half of the ballers in the “A”. Hell, maybe all of them.
“I’m just sayin. Girl, how you gone deny yourself the pleasures of a dick and tongue? Hell, I’d do a thousand sit-ups if that’s what it took to get some dick.”
This was an ongoing conversation between the two; Icey thought that Laila should lose about twenty pounds but Laila wasn’t up for dieting –or working out.
“Icey you got to feel me when I say, if a man can’t accept me for me, then it’s his loss.”
Icey started applying feathered fake lashes. “That’s not you. That’s you trapped in a fat suit. You really not even fat, you just need to lose that tire and those Jell-O arms.”
“Wow, thanks,” Laila responded sarcastically.
Icey exhaled forcefully. “I’m just sayin. You want me to keep it real, don’t you?”
“Yeah girl, but dang. Let me go feed Junior. Talk to you later, bye.”
Icey hated to compare her life to Laila’s, but since high school, so much had changed in her life but remained the same or grew worse for Laila. Laila lived on welfare to take care of her son, while searching for a job. Laila couldn’t shake her ass; even worse, she drove a ’91 Diamante. Not worth mentioning, right?
Damn girl you so sexy, Icey mused. I’m about to turn twenty-six in a few weeks, and it seems I only get better with time. Yeah, You put a nigga and his bitch to shame. Icey’s bodacious curves had the latest Victoria’s Secret lingerie hugging them. “Fall o-nine, here I come.”
Chapter 3 –It Ain’t My Fault
The next morning, Icey stopped by Checkers to grab a bite to eat. A hood chick for real, she’d made it above her ghetto upbringing in the rough Ashby area of Atlanta. Icey and Laila had attended Washington High together. Laila was the one who had graduated first, but Icey was the chick who was “on”. Icey had earned her high school diploma through a correspondence program. They were known as the Smith “sisters” –not because of blood relation, but because they shared the same last name.
Icey didn’t like being called by her government name –Roxanne. The only person who called her Roxanne was her mother. She became “Icey” long before she bought a diamond chain. Before her father, Daniel, disappeared when she was seven, he always let her wear his iced-out gold chain –Icey she was then and now.
Icey bit into her Big Buford burger as she headed down Boulevard towards the expressway. Sipping her banana milkshake, Icey felt content.
At work, Icey put on her sexiest outfit –a red halter-top with a detachable skirt and thong, all were encrusted with crystals. She wore red six-inch platforms to complete the look. Her hair was in deep auburn waves over her shoulder, and her diamond pendant complimented her name.
Some out-of-town guys were in Pin-Ups, really showing love. It felt only right for Icey to cut in while another stripper, Jade wasn’t on her game. Jade sat talking to a man in a business suit while babysitting a glass of Remy.
Icey put her perky titties in the man’s face, smiled coyly and said, “It would be my pleasure to show you what the ‘A’ is about.”
The man, in his late thirties, handed Jade a twenty and said that he’d get with her on the next song. He was aroused at the sight of Icey bending over. The rules were no bending past forty-five degrees and definitely no showing “pink”. Icey ignored these rules and slid a finger between her slit to tease her newest fan.
At the end of the night, the businessman, Ollie, hadn’t budged from his seat. Icey had entertained Ollie throughout the night, her provocative nature keeping him occupied and Jade pissed off. Icey’s garter belt held $750. She had only worked three hours and felt pleased.
Icey walked in the dressing room while Jade talked major trash about her to some of the other girls.
“She still all up on my customer and the club bout to close,” Jade smarted.
Icey checked her. “Hold up bitch. Who you think you talkin bout?”
Jade turned around. “Oh, you finished now?”
A look of disgust filled Icey’s face. “Don’t get no attitude. It ain’t my fault that my customer wasn’t feelin yo polyester clothes and weak ass game.”
“What?” asked Jade as the other girls were exiting.
“You heard me. Bitch don’t try to participate, just continue to hate.”
Jade rolled her large brown eyes.
“You know what, if I had the good sense God gave me, I would beat yo ass. But since I got a date with my client, I’m gone call it a night.” Icey grabbed her suitcase and started to leave the dressing room.
Jade slammed the door as Icey exited the dressing room.
Tired of the bullshit, Icey smashed Jade in the mouth. Jade’s reaction was delayed; she touched her jaw instead of swinging back. Icey took that opportunity to kick Jade in the stomach and hit her a few more times in the face. After beating Jade, Icey changed clothes and left, leaving Jade laid across the filthy floor.
Chapter 4- Get It How You Live
Ollie turned out to be a good addition for Icey’s team. He was from Newark, New Jersey and traveled doing conferences for a software company. Icey had spent the night with him at the Sheraton Buckhead, and then went to Lenox Mall for some mid-week shopping. It was early, so the crowds were light.
Icey spent Ollie’s money in Guess, Express, and Sephora. This made her feel better about the smell of “old man” she was about to wash off. As she was leaving the mall, Re-Up called.
“What’s good Icey?”
“Nothing, just leaving the mall.”
“What mall you at?” he asked.
Icey walked towards the parking lot. “Lenox.”
“What? Girl quit,” he laughed, “I’m getting off da exit now.”
“Oh, okay. So, what you wanna do?”
Re-Up turned onto Peachtree Rd. “Shit, lemme take you shoppin.”
Icey quickly put up her bags and headed back towards the entrance. Re-Up looked his chocolate best, classic, yet fresh in a Lacoste ensemble. Icey smiled at the thought of what he had recently done to her body.
“Damn girl, you lookin good!” Re-Up admired Icey’s ruched purple Bebe dress and matching clutch.
“Thanks, butter lips.” You can lick me anytime.
They shopped for about two hours, eating a late-afternoon lunch at Houston’s. Re-Up was constantly answering his phone –apparently, clients wanted some of his good “drop” work. Re-Up kept telling one person, “I said I’m on the way.” Icey knew it could’ve been a bitch for all she knew.
After lunch, the two parted ways and Icey called up Laila. “What you doin?”
“Nothin. I just sent Junior to my mom’s. I plan on looking for a job today.”
“Where you going? Aren’t you having problems with your ride?”
Laila chuckled. “Yeah. But I’m not driving anywhere –I’m getting on the computer. I just got rid of Junior so I can concentrate. Jobs are all on the internet now.”
“I wouldn’t have thought you were even doing it like that, using the internet? You got a computer now?” Icey questioned.
“I actually just bought one from this commercial I saw on T.V. They deduct the money from my checking account on a payment plan.”
Icey thought that that was stupid of Laila to buy something she couldn’t afford. “Oh. So you gone be paying for that PC for like, the next two years, huh?”
“What? Why you got to act like that?”
“I’m just keeping it real. Why don’t you just save the money up and buy one—saving yourself the extra cost?”
Laila logged onto the computer. “Icey, I need a job now. I can’t wait to save up the money. Anyway, I might spend it.”
“Okay. Whatever. Let me holla at you later.”
Laila went on and handled her business the best way she knew how.
Chapter 5- Still Da Baddest
Sunday morning, Icey woke up and put on her favorite cd, Trina’s Still Da Baddest. Stepping into the shower, she began to think of all the dope boys that would admire her sexy body later on. Just the thought of niggas paying to view her curves got her entire body heated.
Icey stepped out and rubbed on Vitamin-E oil and Very Sexy perfumed lotion. Trina’s raunchy lyrics seeped through the bathroom door.
“Damn Lil Wayne, you fucked up! Leaving a bitch like Trina? Nigga, you gots to be twisted,” Icey said aloud.
Today was all about Icey. She loved men, attention and the like, but she decided to take some “me” time before going to work. Icey never had time to do side projects because she was always at work or at the mall. What Icey really wanted was to work on her designs. She had ambitions to be a sex-toy designer.
Icey sketched a giant furry dick that its user could hold and hunch in the wee hours of the night. Hunching never gets old, shit, I want to hunch now, Icey thought.
Ambition was on her mind, but lust was in Icey’s flesh. She changed the cd to Pretty Ricky’s Late Night Special. “Sip Kool-Aid from out of ya navel, grip that thang like a hand of Play-Doh, butter that thang like a baked potato...” Icey rapped along with Baby Blue on “So Confused”. Confused was the ideal word to describe how she felt at that moment.
“Should I use my hands or my Real Nigga for pleasure?” she referred to her vibrator.
Icey thought that a fake dick was the realest a nigga could be. “Hell, Nigga I’m fucking with you. You don’t cheat, ain’t gonna burn me and you always make me cum,” she said as she pulled out her 11-inch toy. She rubbed her Real Nigga all over her ready pussy as she stumbled to the kitchen. She sat on the barstool, legs wide, holding her balance with one hand on the countertop.
“Ooh, that’s my nigga!” she yelled as she put her Real Nigga where he belonged –in her
hot pussy walls.
Right when Icey began to climax, the phone rang. “Yeah?” she asked.
“Why you sound like dat, Icey? Open da door –I’m comin up da steps,” Re-Up stated, hoisting up the pants of his 8732 jeans.
Icey started to grab her clothes, then thought, fuck it. She opened the door, holding Real Nigga to her mouth.
“Damn Ice! You doin it like that?” Re-Up questioned, dick on hard.
Smiling coyly, she said, “Um-hum. And the name’s Icey, not Ice –don’t forget it.”
Re-Up pushed the door closed and grabbed Icey’s ripe ass. He couldn’t resist the temptation any longer. Re-Up pushed Icey to the carpet and began to do his favorite thing: taste Icey. She was the tastiest bitch from the Westside of Atlanta.
* * *
Before Icey went to work that night, she called Laila to find out how her job search had been going.
“What? Hadn’t nobody called you?” asked Icey.
Laila turned Junior over, so that she could change his diaper. “Nope. I’m not sweating it, it’s a process.”
“Process? Girl, at the rate you’re going, you’ll be lucky if you get an interview, let alone a damn job.”
“Why you got to be so fucking cruel? I swear Icey, if I wasn’t your friend...”
Icey yelled into the phone, “Hello!”
“I’m just saying if I wasn’t your friend, I couldn’t tolerate half the shit you do. But, I shouldn’t have to deal with this shit anyway. Hold on.”
Laila finished changing Junior, put another onesie on him, then laid him on her bed –because he didn’t have a crib. She then gave him a set of plastic keys to play with, while she sat
on the bed watching him.
“I’m back,” Laila sighed.
“I was wondering when you were going to come back, I’ve got to roll.”
“What are you doing tonight, going to dance?” Laila quipped.
After Icey slipped on her diamond pendant, she put on her favorite ring, a one-and-a-half carat LeVian flower in chocolate diamonds. “Yes, but first, I’ve got to call my favorite nigga of the moment, a chocolate wonder who’s always casket ready.”
“What’s his name?”
Icey laughed. “My nigga of the moment, no concern of yours.”
She always acts so secretive. “So, when does Shawn get out?”
Laila question caused Icey to freeze in her tracks. The mention of her brother was almost too much to bear. When Icey was sixteen, he got involved in the petty drug scene and got arrested after robbing two guys who had fucked him over in a drug deal, receiving a mandatory ten-year sentence for Armed Robbery.
Shaking her head back and forth, Icey responded, “In a few months.” I’m not telling her his release date so that she can be at the gate waiting on him. If she wants to know, she’d better use that damn internet!
“Oh. I need to write him.”
“Don’t tell me something you know I don’t want to hear. You and my brother.”
Icey hung up and went in the bathroom to finish preparing for the night. She applied her favorite eyelashes, the ones with rhinestones at the base. As Icey batted her eyes, she laughed. The world ain’t ready for you. Last, but definitely important, she sprayed her hair with oil sheen and put on some Celine Dion Chic perfume –guaranteed to make mouths water. They ain’t ready, but let’s go face them.
Icey turned off most of her lights and left the T.V. blasting reruns of Good Times. Although she lived in the fabulous City Heights condos off of Boulevard Ave., she didn’t leave anything to chance. Potential burglars would assume someone was at home. It was better safe than sorry.
As Icey entered her vehicle, she checked the backseat –a paranoia resulting from several horror movies she’d seen. She admired her reflection in the rear-view mirror as she drove off. Now who’s bad?
Chapter 6 –If You Insist
The house mom, Mizz Peachez, sauntered in –a sassy, sexy transsexual with the smoothest mahogany skin. If Mizz Peachez kept her mouth shut, it’d be hard to tell that she was born a man. Thanks to the latest high-tech drugs and surgical procedures, she looked better than most real women, even if they didn’t admit it. “Ballers all up in here! Damn Icey, you gone kill ‘em tonight!” she belted.
Icey showcased her pearly-whites. “If you insist. I trust your judgment.” Admittedly, Icey felt a warmth and comfort with Mizz Peachez like no other. It’s just something about her/him. I’m so glad she’s got my back.
Mizz Peachez leaned in close and whispered. “Nice job on that trick-hoe Jade, girl! The nerve of her to show her face.”
Icey glanced over at Jade through the corner of her eye to view her bruises. If I was her, I would be out hiding somewhere. I’m so glad my fighting days are pretty much over, unless a hoe wanna test me. She kissed Mizz Peachez on her high cheekbones and put on her stripper gear.
The club was packed, so much that some men had to lean against the walls to get a table dance –minus the tables. Icey scanned the club looking for any of her favorite ballers: Rico, Jeremy, or Re-Up. She spotted Jeremy at a table getting dances from two females she got along with.
Icey swished her shapely hips as she bent down to whisper in Jeremy’s ear. “Whenever you’re ready, come to the VIP.”
Jeremy sat up straight, running a hand across his meticulous Caesar cut. “Yo, I’ll be there. I got that guap in my other pocket just for you. Yo shorties is warming me up.”
After a couple of dances, Jeremy entered the VIP, clutching his gold Gucci belt to keep his Rock & Republic jeans from sagging. It was apparent that Jeremy was sloppy drunk and
ready to go bankrupt by the end of the night.
Icey puckered up her lips and blew Jeremy a kiss. “Glad that you could make it. I almost thought I’d have to knock Sexx and Hottie out.”
“Yo, word? Nah, don’t do that shorty, just drop down and get yo eagle on.”
Once she removed her skimpy yellow bandeau outfit, Icey proceeded to get Jeremy’s money. He kept reaching in his pockets and throwing money at Icey, who didn’t disappoint. Just like the song, she bust that pussy wide open and then she clapped her ass.
“I need you to put that fat shit in my face, yo!”
Icey moved backwards, between Jeremy’s legs. “If you insist.”
Icey gyrated her ass in Jeremy’s face, who pulled out his American Express red business card and slid it between her crack. She reacted by shaking her butt fast, a tip drill for real.
Jeremy pulled his last five-hundred dollars out. “Here shorty. You too much for me, yo,” grabbing his semi-hard dick.
Jeremy sniffed. “I wanted to hit that tonight, but I been on this Columbian white all night.”
“That’s your problem,” she stated.
Jeremy didn’t respond –he only bobbed his head.
The sounds of Lil Wayne filled the VIP area as he rapped about wanting to fuck every girl in the world. I like a longhaired, thick, red bone, open up enough, it’s the filet mingon...
The self-proclaimed “best rapper” flowed his unique and shocking lyrics, helping all the ladies in the club to get paid. Icey didn’t have to shake her ass anymore; she only swayed her hips from side to side, making easy cash.
“Yo, I’m out. Holla at me tomorrow, a’ight?” Jeremy asked.
“If you insist.” That’s my new motto.
* * *
Laila woke up when she heard Junior crying, then glanced at the alarm clock. Damn, it’s three in the morning. I love my son, but dang! I should’ve waited to have kids. It’s hard enough as it is, his check doesn’t pay the bills.
As she cuddled Junior, Laila started crying. She kept thinking about how she wanted him to have his own room, a child’s bed and just plain opportunities. Her son was born into poverty by no fault of his own and unless he had genius or talent, he would likely remain there.
Why do I have to think about depressing stuff all early in the morning like this? she wondered. Aw hell, that’s life.
After a bottle of Similac, Junior fell sound asleep in Laila’s arms. She gently laid him down on the side of her bed that was pressed against the wall. “Goodnight Tremaine Johnson Jr.,” she whispered, “Mama loves you.”
Laila went into the dining area and sat at the bistro table. She figured that Icey was or would be getting off work. Let me see what she’s up to. Laila called Icey, but she didn’t answer, so Laila peered in the refrigerator for a late-night snack. She searched through the leftover Domino’s and China Cafeteria, grabbing a bucket of KFC grilled chicken, her version of health food.
Taking two legs and a thigh out, Laila popped the chicken in the microwave, setting the timer for three minutes. She picked up a pitcher of black-cherry Kool-Aid and poured herself a glass with no ice. She took the chicken out of the microwave and sat at the table, dousing the chicken with Louisiana Hot Sauce.
Laila started eating the chicken and licking her fingers clean. “Ooh wee!” she said, devouring every shred of meat and sucking the bones. I don’t care if I gain another twenty
pounds; I’m going to eat whenever I get dang ready.
Icey called, talking in her bossy tone. “What you wanted?”
“Damn Icey, I was just checking up on you. I swear, ever since you got that Charger—”
Ever since I was born! “N’all boo, I been flexin on these hoes. You mean, ever since I met the nigga wit the Q56. I think I’m fallin!” Icey let her true feelings slip out like a condom full of nut.
Laila rolled her eyes while licking chicken grease off her thumb. I can’t believe it. Icey? Falling for someone? “Be for real Icey. Out of all the dudes you’ve messed with, you mean to tell me that you’ve fallen? Get real.”
Icey gave a long speech about how she truly had found a real nigga that had long, crispy money to spend on her. She kept telling lies about how close they were and how good her niggas ate her pussy, causing her to cum harder than a nun getting laid for the first time. Laila didn’t say much –she couldn’t have if she wanted to because Icey had the conversation going all by herself.
Laila exasperated. “Hey Icey, let me get some sleep. Goodnight.”
“I’m hanging up, but remember what I said. When you get some good head, you gone flip too.”
Whatever, Icey! Laila held her composure to keep from calling Icey the babbling bitch she was.
Chapter 7 –Stormy Weather
What time is it? Icey wondered as she rolled over and looked at her alarm clock, while rubbing her puffy eyes. It’s 5:42 a.m.! I haven’t got a lick of sleep! Between shaking my ass and talking to Laila’s ass, I probably got an hour of zzz’s. Icey flicked on her 60-inch plasma T.V. that faced opposite her cherry wood sleigh bed. She then went into the bathroom to pee.
Icey plopped her round rump on the shiny porcelain, grabbing the latest Sister 2 Sister magazine from the rack. She flipped through the articles and read about Shawntae Harris, “Da Brat”, being incarcerated. It instantly made her think about her brother Shawn, who was also doing time in Georgia, at Rogers State Prison. Note to self: drop Shawn a few lines this weekend, though he act like he can’t pick up the damn phone and call me. Almost ten years had passed, but she still felt super-close to him.
Icey finished her business and went back to her bed to catch a few minutes of “Good Morning America”. “It’s now 6:03 a.m., Monday, September 21st, 2009,” the reporter said. Icey watched twenty minutes of national news and caught the local weather report. For five days straight, it had been raining in North Georgia. Today, the downpour would be heavy all day. Icey popped her Baby Phat gloss moistened lips in frustration. All day it’s gone be raining muthafuck in cats and dogs. Well fuck that, I gots to get me me!
Laying back on the cranberry satin sheets, Icey went back to sleep to catch some rest. She had a strong feeling that it was going to be a long day. As Ice drifted off to sleep, she kept thinking about her developing feelings for Re-Up. Shawn had raised her to be a “boss bitch”, a female player, but Icey’s heart now felt otherwise. In all honesty, Icey didn’t know if she was falling for Re-Up the person, or the tricks he did with his tongue.
“I don’t know. Fuck it,” she mumbled as her eyes closed.
* * *
Icey pulled into the Quik Trip by Six Flags Over Georgia. The rain gushed down to the point that Icey almost decided to cancel her plans with Re-Up. Okay bitch it’s just rain. GO get your man! When Icey arrived at Re-Up’s house, she planned to tell him where she wanted things to go between them. Please don’t let this rain be a bad omen.
As she drove, Re-Up called to see if she was still coming.
“Yes Re-Up, I’m about ten minutes away; I had to stop and get some gas. I’m telling you right now, I won’t be staying too long. I just need to talk to you about something.”
Re-Up walked across the plush Berber carpet in his Polo slippers. “What’s happenin? Tell me what’s happenin wit you.”
Laughing, Icey refused. She loved the gangster manner how Re-Up spoke to her. It was just something arousing about his swagger. Because Re-Up was getting to Icey, she had to play it cool. Going face to face to talk with Re-Up was playing in his court, which didn’t matter, because she had him by the balls.
“Re-Up? Fix me some Henn and Coke; I’ll be there in a few.”
Around 1 p.m., Icey entered the Deer Field Creek subdivision and turned onto Water Oaks Drive. She drove to the 3800 block and parked her car in the driveway of Re-Up’s massive home. Re-Up kept a good cover for his drug dealing through a lawn service and construction company. Currently, his construction company was barely staying afloat –construction was at a standstill in Atlanta and across America.
Icey picked up her plaid Burberry umbrella from the passenger seat and stepped out in coordinating Burberry galoshes. She swiftly trekked to the door. Icey banged the doorknocker, competing with the thundering rain.
“Open up, Re-Up!” Icey screamed at the top of her lungs, ready to escape the nasty weather.
Re-Up opened the door, holding a glass of Henn and Coke as she’d requested.
Icey rushed in and removed her galoshes. She fumbled with the umbrella, causing Re-Up to laugh.
“Drink this. You need it Ice.”
Icey gave him a piercing stare, reminding him not to call her Ice –without saying a word.
“Sor-ry woman. Sexy Icey.” Re-Up handed Icey the drink and brushed his dark rinse Cavalli jeans off. “I spilled some Coke on em. Let me take em off.”
Re-Up removed his jeans and walked his bow-legged self to the laundry room. Icey seductively watched Re-Up on his way down the hall and back. She saw his prominent curvy dick slinging against his navy Ralph Lauren boxers as he came back to her.
Re-Up stood back on his slim legs. “Take that shit off! I wanna get busy.” He crashed on the sectional sofa.
“You better be glad you have the heat turned up.” Icey removed her pumpkin sweater dress and rubbed her hardened nipples. She smiled at him with lust.
“Dats what I’m talkin bout, Icey.”
Icey sauntered into the granite and steel kitchen, opening the huge sub-zero freezer. She picked up an ice tray and walked back into the living room. Re-Up closed his eyes as he tried to imagine what Icey was about to do. Icey removed one of the slender, smooth cubes and inserted it into her heated mouth.
Re-Up watched Icey suck the cube, sliding it in and out of her mouth using her tongue to push it. She placed the ice tray on the black glass coffee table and then straddled her love
interest. Re-Up pitched a tent with his hardness, quicker than Jason raised the machete in Friday the 13th. Icey rotated her hips in a wide circle while she slid her silk g-string to the side.
“Yeah nigga, I’m gone show you what Icey like.” She reached for another ice cube and began to slide it over her alert nipples, then she inserted it in Re-Up’s mouth.
Re-Up sucked on the ice, then turned away from Icey and spit the ice on the floor.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” Icey snapped.
“Look.” He watched Channel 2 in shock as the continued coverage of the rain reported possible flooding in Cobb, Gwinnett and Douglas counties, which meant he was in danger.
Icey whipped her head to view the television. “I’ve got to go!” she exclaimed as she dressed and hurried to her car. She turned the radio to WSB’s 1150 AM station, getting the latest developments with the weather.
Icey drove 12 mph in a 35 mph limit –it was difficult to see farther than a foot ahead, plus she took no chances in facing reckless drivers on the road. She knew statistics showed that she’d die in a car wreck before death from a plane crash. I’ve got to get back home, she reflected. Icey completely ignored the throbbing between her legs and went into survival mode. Re-Up kept calling her phone, but she wouldn’t answer. Icey’s only focus was to concentrate on getting home safely.
Icey mother, Mary, called. “Roxanne, where are you? It’s raining cats and dogs, so you need to go home. Roxanne?”
“Mom, I’m on the way home now.”
Mary peeped out of the blinds, watching the rainstorm. “Where are you coming from anyway? I don’t know why you’re out in the streets.”
Running her hand through her frizzing hair, Icey exhaled. “Mom, I promise you, I am not
jeopardizing myself for anything out here. You taught me better than that, right?”
“Right hon. Let me get off the phone before I get electrocuted.” Mary hung up from Icey and sat by the bedroom window to watch the storm.
Icey exited at Freedom Pkwy./Carter Center on 75/85 North. She drove past the iron Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. sculpture at the corner of Freedom Pkwy. and Boulevard. She sneezed before turning the heat up. I’m glad I live by the freeway. This weather ain’t no hoe!
Entering her plush, modern condo on the 6th floor, Icey removed her galoshes and sat them on the hardwood floor. She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of Hennessey Black, smooth and flavorful cognac to hit where she needed it the most. Icey turned the heat up to 85° F, then removed her dress. She pulled her thick espresso-colored Armani Exchange robe out of the hall closet, enveloping her body in its warmth. This was right on time, she reflected on the impulse purchase she’d made.
As the day wore on, the news reports became increasingly alarming. Flooding had occurred in several areas in and around Atlanta. Icey jumped at the sudden roar of thunder staking its claim on the streets of Atlanta. Icey laughed at her fearfulness –she still propped her feet up on the sofa like she used to as a child. Thoughts of her father began to cloud her mind.
“You want daddy’s chain, is that what’s wrong with you?” asked Daniel as he kneeled down to kiss Icey on the forehead. “My beautiful Roxanne, you’re gonna break some man’s heart one day.”
Daddy, I’m sorry! What did I do to make you leave? I’ll be your innocent little girl again, just come back to me! Icey had drifted asleep, tossing and turning from a dream that had quickly become a nightmare.
Chapter 8 –Moving In
Rriing, rriing! went Icey’s phone for the seventh time that morning. She yawned, snatching the cover off her body. She checked the caller I.D. –it was Re-Up. Icey flung the plush comforter to the floor, snatching the phone off the hook.
“What the fuck, Re-Up!” Icey yelled with fury.
“Listen for a minute, girl, damn!”
I swear, sometimes I think I’m falling for his ass, and other times, it’s like, are you kidding? “What the hell you want?”
“I ain’t trynna intrude on ya masturbation, but I just thought you should know dat I’m homeless. The floods went ten feet high yesterday; all my shit’s fucked up.”
“What?!” Icey exclaimed while walking to the bathroom to get her toothbrush. “Re-Up, it’s eight ‘o’ clock, I just woke up and haven’t even had time to brush my teeth! Let me hit you back once I do my hygiene.”
“Do your thing, but could you open da door? A nigga hungry.”
Icey pulled her Oral-B toothbrush out of its chrome holder, and squeezed some Colgate Total on it. “Let me get this right, you’re at the door? Please be bullshittin’.”
Re-Up rapped on the door to prove that he was serious. Icey finished brushing her teeth and washed her face. She was somewhat nervous about Re-Up seeing her without makeup on. Usually, her face had bronzer shimmered across it, or various false lashes applied. Today, she was in her natural glory for him to see. I hope he likes me in my bare skin. Hell, he better.
Icey whipped open the front door, her robe hanging open, nipples on hard. “Now tell me what the hell you mean about being homeless.”
They sat down at the chrome and glass dinette table, discussing the flood situation which
left Re-Up’s home uninhabitable. The waters were twelve feet high, destroying most of his possessions. The entire Deer Field community was homeless. To top it all, Re-Up was without flood insurance to cover the damages. His five-hundred-thousand dollar drug money investment would soon be a memory.
Icey shook her head. “I just can’t believe this! But, I’m totally here for you.”
“Good, cause I’m movin in,” he stated firmly.
Hold the fuck up! I know this nigga didn’t say he was movin in with me! I like him, but damn! Just what I get for this fallin bullshit. “You are?”
“Yeah. Soon as the water recedes, I’m gone salvage what I can, then come on in like folk. Don’t sweat shit -I got you. How much this condo cost, two-forty?”
“It’s one-seventy left on my mortgage. So, how much are you gone put on it?” Icey made a wish: How about the whole damn thing, for fucking up my groove?
“I got you on everythang.” Re-Up smiled and his gold teeth reflected the sunlight that filtered through the window.
Inside, Icey had a grin from east to west, and laughed with delight. Re-Up had exceeded her expectations to the highest degree. She had something to look forward to –more money. With Re-Up making this his main spot, I won’t have to worry bout a damn thang.
If she only knew...
Chapter 9 –Moving Up
“What can I do for you?” asked the Home Depot salesperson.
Icey looked at the multitude of paints to choose from. There were at lest fifteen shades of white paint: Wedding, eggshell, creamed, rose, morning. Faced with a plethora of choices, Icey picked the color that she really yearned for: Wedding White. Beyond her greedy lust for money and hot sex, she desired security from holy matrimony.
Rubbing her blue agate earrings, Icey said, “I’ll take six gallons of that,” she pointed.
Icey searched for new knobs for her cabinetry and tiles for the bathroom floor. She wanted to put a fresh spin to her already classy condo, picking out home accessories was the perfect way to do so. Once she loaded up her goods, Icey drove to Pier 1 Imports and finished her home shopping. She picked out red glass votives and picture frames for her bedroom.
When Icey arrived at home, she was pleasantly surprised that Re-Up had stocked the fridge and cabinets with food: alfredo, ravioli, macaroni and cheese, cans of vegetables, pork chops, ribs –the whole nine. A sweet smile slid across her face. I beginning to like this.
Re-Up’s SUV was in the parking garage, so Icey assumed he was there. “Hey Re-Up, you cooking or what?”
After there was no response, Icey figured he was playing a hide and seek game with her. She searched through the three bedrooms, one of which was used for design space. She looked in the closets and even under the beds. Re-Up was nowhere to be found. Icey did find two of his guns beneath his side of their bed, including his .45 “Public Defender”. Confused, Icey retrieved her phone. He never goes anywhere without his truck, she ruminated.
“Nigga, where the fuck you at?” Icey snapped into the phone as she stepped onto the
balcony to watch the traffic.
Re-Up chose a box of Magnums, vitamins and a box of printing paper. “Chill Icey, I’m at CVS.”
Her condos had a CVS on the ground floor, so she hoped he was referring to that one. “Which one, downstairs?”
“Yeah. I’ll be up in a minute.”
When Re-Up came in, Icey peeped his black Sean John distressed-leather jacket over a coordinating long-sleeved brick-red shirt and blue jeans. Re-Up would look sexy dressed in a plastic bag –his complexion was that smooth. He informed Icey that after grocery shopping, he’d neglected to pick up a few crucial items, stopping at the convenient CVS connected to City Heights. Icey was appalled at her sudden fit of possessiveness. She had never sweat a man since Shawn had broke things down to her. In his words, niggas are cruel and will crush you as they keep it moving. Icey silently reminded herself not to get too damn excited over flesh and bones.
* * *
Laila sat on her sofa while reading a copy of Glamour magazine and watching Junior as he rocked in his swing. In her downtime from searching for a job, she decided to read up on how to please her man, according to her horoscope, he would arrive in October. Like a true Aquarian, she wanted to shock her future mate with mind-blowing positions from the headboard to the floor.
As Laila laid Junior down and started changing him, Icey called, rambling on about her “new man”. She didn’t give a damn about who Icey had; Laila wanted a man of her own.
Icey smiled confidently. “Girl, this nigga is what’s happenin, ooh, he has me talking like him. I’m telling you, I’ve found the one. He even paid my condo off.”
“Say what, he paid your condo off? Damn Icey, that’s good. Just tell me, does he have a brother?”
“Un-uh. You gone have to fine your own man.” Even if Re-Up did have a brother, Icey wouldn’t dare hook Laila up, unless it would’ve benefited her. Icey continued with, “Bitch, I am so elated!”
Laila attempted to put on Junior’s diaper with one hand. It wasn’t working, so she placed Icey on hold. Junior cooed, his huge teddy bear eyes searching the room. Laila sprinkled some baby powder around his crotch, then rubbed medicated cream on the areas of his body that had eczema. She saw him blink and relaxed.
Laila picked the phone back up. “Girl, Junior looks so peaceful, he’s my pride and joy. Just looking at him makes me realize that I’ve got to get things together.”
Icey cleared her throat. “With my condo paid for and my man moving in, looks like a bitch is moving on up in this mo’fucker.”
“Did you just hear anything I just said?”
“Um-hum. And?” Icey didn’t have a child, so what did she care? Laila was wasting her breath. “Gone and get yo shit together, I’ll holla. Later.”
At times like this, Laila didn’t understand why she even put up with Icey.
Chapter 10 –Mother Knows Best
“Yes mom,” Icey said as she ate kushiyaki chicken and mushroom skewers at Shoya in Doraville, GA.
“Where are you, hon? You haven’t called me in two days.” Mary brushed her long chesnut hair out of her face as she applied Mary Kay blush to her deep mahogany skin. “It’s only fair that I worry about you.”
Icey ate a piece of okra from a skewer and then took a sip of her shochu cocktail. I think Japanese cusine is becoming my new guilty pleasure. “I’m at this Japanese joint in Spaghetti Junction,” she referred to the name for all of the highways that crossed in that area.
“That’s nice, but do they have televisions there? You need to watch the news; Joe Biden is visiting flood victims at the Cobb County civic center today. The estimated damage for the Atlanta and surrounding area is over two-hundred and fifty million dollars. This type of situation hasn’t happened in about a hundred years, since 1919! This is history; Roxanne, go home and watch it.”
Icey tried her best not to yawn at her mom’s speech, attributing it to “teacher’s syndrome”. No matter why, Icey wasn’t in the mood to be lectured. Her period was on and all she wanted to do was eat –and eat.
“Mom, home is half an hour away; I am entitled to a break, right?” She continued sipping her cocktail.
Mary applied her 24K gold lipstick and smacked her lips. “Hmm, I suppose so. Just make sure you stay informed, alright hon?”
“Okay, mom. I’ll do that.” She took two Midol out of her chocolate Barbara Bui weaved bag and swallowed them with a drink of water.
“I’m not done; have you wrote Shawn? I went to see him the other day down in Reidsville. He asked about you, said you were supposed to send him some money. I almost J-Payed him some money, but I didn’t want to overstep you, hon.”
Damn, I’ve been so busy messin with Re-Up that I forgot to write Shawn! “I forgot, but I’ll write him and drop him a money order.”
Icey tried to hang up, but her mom wouldn’t let her. Ever since Mary got married two years before and retired from teaching, she constantly called Icey about something. Icey thought that her mom should be out enjoying married life, but instead, she continuously stressed. Maybe it was because Mary’s husband, Phillip, stayed busy as the CFO for the Equifax credit bureau in Midtown Atlanta.
Icey decided to go ahead and inform her mother that her man had moved in, since she would find out eventually anyway.