Changing Stiles Read online

  “We saw that; we’re talking about Tony,” Tiffany replies, speaking for both of them.

  I frown. I'm not telling them my business in their crowded-ass hair salon. My name and my love life will be in everybody’s mouth. I really don’t have time for the gossiping shit because hoes try you, and I don’t want to have to lay these hands-on none of these tricks.

  “Nothing.”

  They’re acting as if I hadn’t called them last night and explained to them what Tony had the nerve to do. I guess they just wanna hear me say it to their faces. I'm with that, though, because it’s always so much better and more dramatic to tell your man drama in person.

  Tony and I had been dating off and on for over two years. I’ve known him since my freshman year at Howard and had been good friends with him before we’d changed the dynamics of our relationship. The shit we were doing was fine for a minute, but I’m at the point in my life where I’m ready for the long haul and Tony isn’t. For a minute, I thought that Tony would have been the one to change my fast-paced world by slowing me down enough to be content with his love. Dreams of an adolescent. Woke up real quick and all that naive shit went right out the door.

  The past two months have proved to be eye-opening for me. While I professed to be completely ready for the ‘long haul’, there were a few things that could have used my attention a long time ago. Had I truly loved myself, a lot of the things in that relationship would have been different. Don't get me wrong; the shit seemed cool for us at first. I mean, we were both in our senior year of college and neither knew what we wanted, so we were just chilling. That gave me the option of exploring some curiosities about other guys. (In other words, I was fucking with a bunch of other niggas because the one I wanted didn't want me enough to stop me.) The second year after he broke up with me to explore some of his own curiosities, he wanted me back in an exclusive relationship. Loving him as I had, I broke it off with all of my guy friends. So, for the past year and some, Tony had been my world.

  My world. Right. Two months ago, Tony broke up with me and I was a damn wreck. It was only natural that after all that time together I’d want and expect more than him showing up at my place after hours to get some ass. I told him and he didn't seem to agree, so he walked out of my life and left me alone. No one mentioned to him that while he was making exclusive demands of me that the same rules applied to him. Of course, I told him, but some men act like they need their mamas to say it before they’ll believe it. Like I said, I was fucked up.

  Last night, the farewell party of a mutual friend gave us the opportunity to see one another for the first time in over a month. To say the least, dude was affected by my appearance. Although it took him all damn night say something. I did admit to the girls that he looked good.

  “What he say?”

  I don’t want to give them the impression that I am at all happy about it. The man didn’t even speak until the party was over and when he did, the words that came out of his mouth weren’t worth listening to. That muthasucka asked if he could stop by and see me. As if I’d let his dirty dick dip.

  “Nothing that I’ll dwell on. Where’s my brother?” I ask. I can see Nesha’s eyes go blank, confirming what I already know.

  “Next door,” she answers after clearing her throat. I laugh. In all the time she was trying to pump me for my life’s info, this hoe neglected to inform Tiff and I that she and my brother Grayson were once again an item. Lil' Gray let it slip that Daddy had spent the night enough nights for us to put two and two together. That had been weeks ago, and I’m pretty sure from the look on her face that they’re still hooking up.

  “I wanna ask him about the guy I just met.”

  “Oh,” she murmurs, somewhat relieved.

  “He said that they went to school together,” I shrug and bite my bottom lip. “I’m not even going to call him.”

  “Why?”

  “'Cause he said the ‘big girl’ thing. Y’all know that bullshit gets on my last nerve.” Both of them are skinny as hell, but they understand how I feel.

  “Stop being so damn sensitive. He was handsome,” Tiffany advises.

  “You're skinny as hell,” I counter. “You don't get the smart-ass remarks,” I finish.

  “I’m not skinny.” Tiff likes to believe that she is thick, so we let her believe it. “And you’re not the hell big.”

  This is one of the reasons I love my friends. They always try to make me feel better by saying I’m not big. Yet, if they saw some other girl in the street the same size as me, they would categorize her as big. I appreciate it, but it’s not needed. I know I'm thick, and I accept it. But I’ve had to work to get it too thick. And in any case, I wouldn't have the confidence I have if I hadn’t.

  “Riiiiight, Tiff.” I turn to Nesha and ask, “Is Gray staying at my parents’ tonight or is he staying with his dad?” Amusement lingers in my eye.

  Taking a deep breath, she rolls her eyes. “Did he tell you?” There is no question about what she's talking about. The guilt from not telling us is just eating her up.

  I shake my head. “No, your son told me.”

  She looks over at Tiff who smiles and shrugs. “Tim told me.” She touches Nesha’s shoulder gently and asks in that motherly tone of hers, “Are you sure this time?” There had been a lot of bullshit between Nesha and Gray. After years of being together, they'd broken up because Gray had cheated on her.

  He was one of those guys who thought because he had them dollas he could act any way he wanted.

  It ain't that much money in the world.

  “We're taking it slow,” she admits softly. “I'm scared to rush back into it.”

  I could see why. Gray had Nesha playing the wifey role without the ring. I keep trying to tell my brother my best friend is too damn fly to be cheated on. At a couple inches shorter than me, Nesha is light skin with curly hair. She has big, patient brown eyes and a wide smile. There’s always a vulnerable softness to her that I can’t explain because her mouth is razor sharp and she doesn't play any games. She straight up reminds me of Vivian Green, an up and coming neo-soul singer we saw sing with Musiq Soulchild. When she’s unhappy you know it and she doesn’t generally take any bullshit. But she did from my brother. Evidently, something must have changed if she let him back in her bed.

  We talked for a little while longer and joked about nothing. I was able to talk Tiff into twisting my fresh microbraids into a nice style. We made plans to meet each other for the basketball game tonight at Duckery’s schoolyard where we could trip and meet new people.

  My girl, Catrina said she was gonna slide through as long as she didn’t have to worry about possibly bumping into Dave. I don’t think he even came to Philly this weekend. I can’t wait until they get their messy asses together. The last thing I wanted to do was stress about them when I was stressing about my own ass.

  Maybe I'll find somebody new to keep my head in the clouds for a minute. With me trying to lose weight, the Lord knows I could use the distraction.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Carter

  “Shorty gave you her number?” My boah Donte questions when meet him back at the corner.

  Stretching my arms overhead, I playfully nod. “Yup. Of course,” I reply confidently, although I was definitely feeling less confident than my reply. I witnessed the interested glow in her light brown eyes fizzle out in what I can only describe as a possible annoyance, but I couldn't figure it out. We was vibing and then she almost seemed dismissive. I could see flicks of temper, and I have to admit I like it. She may be a challenge. And I haven't felt up for one in the form of a beautiful sista in a minute.

  “I could've pulled her,” Donte claims with a laugh. “Plus, light-skinned dudes played out.”

  I’m brown-skinned, far from being light-skinned, but I guess when it comes to dark-skinned, purple-black dudes, anything lighter than them, you end up being light.

  His dark lips formed a smirk. “She looks bougie as
hell, and her eyes were all on you, boss man,” he admits after a second of consideration.

  For the briefest moment, our eyes met. I don’t think I can explain it. I felt something awaken inside of me. Shit, maybe I'm a little confused by it. I haven't felt an immediate attraction like this in years. Mentally, I’m tucking her. She gonna be mine.

  Already. Simple as that.

  “Way too much woman for you, yougin’,” I let him know, grabbing the water bottle he handed to me.

  Honeydrop had to know she was gonna have all these knuckleheaded block boys on her top the moment those denim-clad hips swished passed them, accompanied with that bright-ass smile. I’m a sucka for a big butt and a smile. Add the long legs, thick thighs, wide hips, flat tummy, and a pretty smile, and I'm kind of gawking. She really had me with her smart-ass reply.

  Alieas… I run the name over in my mind. It had definitely been a pleasure meeting Princess Stiles in adult form. I laugh, remembering how, as ninth-graders, Gray spoke of her with a mixture of big brother annoyance and genuine love for a little sister. I had met her twice before; I know she ain’t remember. Once when Gray and I had done a science project in the ninth and another during the eleventh grade. She couldn't have been more than twelve or thirteen then. The first time, she was a chunky little girl with a cherubim's smile and honey eyes. By the second time I saw her, she'd filled out more, had grown a couple inches taller, her face was more mature, and her eyes were kind of alluring. With the memory of “adult” her engraved in my brain, I decided she had developed into a swan. Not that she'd been an ugly duckling either of those times, but damn, my dick was hard, and I was already spinning fantasies with her as the star.

  In those brief meetings, I could tell that their household centered around her, thus the nickname “princess’ given by Gray.

  Gray. That made me think if he’d be cool with me talking to his little sister. I’m protective as hell when it comes to any of my sisters. Both the older and the younger. None of my friends can holla at them, attempt to hit them up, or just kick it. I guess we'd discuss it if it ever came to that. Until five minutes ago, I wasn't even worried about hooking up with no chicks. Fine and fly or otherwise.

  The princess was definitely fine and fly. I’m probably hyping myself up for nothing. She look like the type that likes bad boys, hood niggas. Dudes like Gray. We don’t necessarily run in the same circles, but we know the same people. Can’t even say we from the same hood because they moved to the county as soon as their pop’s real estate business started popping. Gray was still hanging in North Philly like he needed it for his next breath. Some people’s paths are different; his led him to dealing drugs and jail. I heard he ran his own block of blocks from 15th to 20th Sts. That’s a long reach for someone his age. His dad had put up money for the hair salon and barbershop in hopes of getting him on the straight and narrow. Not sure if that worked out for him. Can't listen to everything you hear on the streets, though. Let some niggas tell it, Gray run a cartel from inside the barbershop. We’ve always been cool and cordial to one another, ran ball a couple times since childhood. Our ideologies differ because while I'm about making money, I'm also about uplifting the community.

  My money clean and so is my conscience. I kick it with his younger cousin Tyree, who is an example of a person who has turned his life around and his homies, but I sum myself up as a good dude. Never had the urge to pollute the earth with any substances. That shit break up black families. I know a handful of men who have no idea who their fathers are or have crackhead mothers, remnants left over from the eighties crack era ones who’ve been raised by their grandmas because neither parent had it together.

  Yea, not my style at all. I grew up in a modest, two-parent household. My dad works for the water department while my mom stayed home. I’m the middle of five children— two older sisters and a younger sister and brother, and we’re close. Like a gang. We don’t play no games when it comes to family. I’m my mom's baby, and my dad’s first son, and they damn sure raised a man. When I look at my babygirl, I know I’m doing something to make the world better for her. My mom always nagging that I need to start dating or looking for a woman to be with on a serious level for Mira. I’m good, so she is good. My dad, like, “You still young, son; have fun.”

  I guess you can say I have trust issues and no patience. None. With good reason. These hoes be scandalous. And my last go around had sidelined me. Princess might be a reason to step back in the game, though.

  “Damn, shorty got you staring off into space,” Donte jokes.

  I throw my head back and chuckle. “Nawl,” I deny. Running my hand over my chin, I consider it. “But she fine, though.”

  “Yea. She definitely cute for a big girl.”

  I shrug, “I know. That’s what I said.” I tap him on the arm and then take a swig from the water bottle, before saying, “Text your boy and let him know I'm docking his pay.” His cousin hadn’t shown up for work. The young boah was on the verge of being fired. I needed reliable workers. I own a small contracting and construction firm. There’s so much remodeling, renovating, and building going on right now. I had to get a piece, and I'm not allowing anyone to slice it up. This was the beginning of modern-day gentrification in Philly with the expansion of all the cities’ universities and surrounding areas. My father always said they was gonna want their neighborhoods back. The jury still out on that, but I don’t mind building it up while holding on to a piece of it because by the time it was over and done, it'd be worth millions. Pulling out the rag I have tucked in my back pocket, I wipe my face. The sun out here burning people to a new color. I poured the rest of the water over my head to cool myself down.

  My crew was gutting a house and for the most part, it was summer and humid as hell, and we ain’t have no damn air.

  Two

  Alieas

  RING… RING… RING… RING…

  Who the hell is calling me?— I look at the digital clock beside my bed, the red numbers blurry as I read them.

  Who the hell is calling me at three a.m.? I’m not answering the damn phone. I just got into this bed, and there is no way I'm reaching my hand out to pick it up. It sounds lazy, I know, but I'm just not going to do it.

  It stops. Yes, I think and then I sink my face deeper into my pillow. I’m tired as shit. All that excitement. Not that I'm a ball fan, but the game was happening. Basically, because I’m a man fan. And the men had it going on. Got me a few numbers so it was eventful.

  RING… I’m going to go crazy.

  RING! Who the hell?

  RING! Oohhh why?

  RING…

  Before I go straight postal the phone stops ringing, and this time, I do reach my hand out of the warmth of my sheets to take it off the hook. I don’t want to talk to anybody; all I want is sleep. And no sooner than I close my eyes to snuggle up, the damn doorbell buzzes. I’m trying to ignore it with all my might, but it just wouldn’t stop.

  Finally, concerned it could be a family matter, I get out of bed, spare a last glance at my comfortable bed. I put on my robe as I head out my bedroom and make my way through the apartment to answer the door before I even think to look out of the peephole. When I open the door to see that Tony is there, I find myself wishing that I’d stayed in the daggone bed and had better security measures. He shouldn’t have been able to get inside the building, to begin with.

  “Can I talk to you?” he asks, attempting to come into my apartment, but I block his entrance.

  “Do you know what time it is?” I yawn. I can stand my ground with him outside the apartment but up close and personal, I’m liable to be a sucka need a moment.

  No backtracking, I coach myself silently as I decide to let him in.

  “I’m sorry that it’s so late but I had to see you. I stopped by earlier but you weren’t here,” he pitifully explains.

  I have to wipe the coal from my eyes, so I could stare at him. I can’t believe that he is actually here. From the looks of him, I can tell what thi
s is about, yet this time, I won’t be falling for any of his stories, I think I’ll find it amusing to listen to what he has to say anyway. I move away from the door and take a seat on the sofa while I wait for him to begin his usual lines of how he needed a break. I can’t see his face so I turn on the lamp.

  “What is it, Tony? You think you can stop by to get some any time you feel like it?” I inquire, irritated that he thinks that he can just treat me any type of way. I’m more annoyed with myself that I had actually allowed him to treat me any old type of way.

  “I was out of line the other night,” he replies as a way of apologizing.

  “Not accepted,” I retort angrily. Tony drags his hands over his face, looking to me as if he’s in agony.

  “I was drunk,” he adds.

  I laugh at the fact that he used that as an excuse. “You must be right now too.”

  He steps forward. “Lieas, I miss you. Last night made me realize that you’re the only woman I want to be with.”

  No, No, and No. I can already see it and there is just no way I’m going to let him drag me back down that emotional road where I’d just been two short months before. Tony wants to think that I haven’t moved on and that he can drop in and out of my life as he pleases.

  Well, he can’t. Not this time; not this girl.

  I shake my head at him. “You should have thought about that before you decided that I wasn’t enough for you.”

  “You know I be trippin’. I was scared.” He huffs and begins to pace. “You wanna get married and start a family and shit. We're still young. I don’t know if I am ready for all that. We should be traveling instead,” he adds, looking down at me, hoping that I’ll believe him.

  I do.

  “We could have been scared together, Tony. Now, it’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late for us, boo. You my woman, always.”

  His words still have the power to make me smile. I can remember when he used to say that to me all the time and back then, I’d believed him because I loved him.