Fresh on the block w/ Keniko Lawson aka Niko

Niko

2/7/2013

Man it feels good to be home. Everything looks so different. Seems like I've been gone for more than four years.  At the same time, I'm glad it's only been four years. I don't know how much longer I would have lasted in Missouri State Penitentiary. I just knew that when I got popped in that raid back in 1992 that I was going to be looking at no less than 15 years. After all, they did find 100 pounds of weed, 35 pounds of cocaine and almost 30 pounds of heroin at the main stash spot. Just so happens no one was inside the building when the raid jumped off. Everybody was outside barbecuing, dancing, and playing games.  During the summer holidays my family does what most call a community give back by giving food away in the hood. I had just hollered at a junkie and was walking off when I saw dozens of cars coming from every direction with flashing lights and men jumping out with DEA vests all yelling "Get down on the ground, NOW!!". I didn't know what the fuck was going on. I seems like they sent the feds, the highway patrol, the state, city, and county pd, and muthafucka's that was in training for titles as small as traffic cops to bust the block. I was scared as hell too.  I mean, I always knew getting busted was a possibility but so far I had been able to stay under the radar.  Shit, I've been slanging since I was 12.  You could say it is hereditary because my entire family is involved one way or another.  I started off running numbers and dime bags of weed for my grandparents.  That only lasted a few months though. Once they knew I was able to move around without bringing attention to myself I was able to get my own work to move.  In the beginning, I only got a cut off the profit because I was just a runner.  Usually it was $5 for every delivery.  Hell, $5 was a lot at 12 years old. Especially if you are making 20 runs a day.  Who wouldn't be excited about making $100 a day just for riding their bike around the neighborhood.  On the weekends I made as much as $250 since there was no school.  My mama wasn't too excited about it at first but she was struggling trying to raise me and my little sister on government assistance.  She never had extra money to buy things we wanted and everything she did buy was generic.  At 12 years old, it wasn't cool going to school with Wal-Mart or Dollar Store clothes on.  And I was one of the popular kids so I had an image to keep.  According to state and county records, I was suppose to be part of the schools program that assisted needy children.  Once a year, they would take a select bunch of low income kids on a bus trip to PayLess and buy us the grey tennis shoes with the two velcro straps on them and the little mouse on the side called Pac Rats.  Nigga's got jumped at recess for shit like that and they couldn't hang with the cool nigga's at school.  And I'm a cool nigga.  Most of my homies didn't know I was suppose to be on that bus because I never ever got on it.  My pops made sure I kept at least two pair of fresh kicks and the latest gear throughout the school year. He just wasn't too big on making sure my mama had money to handle the other shit.  She called him a sorry bastard for not helping her out more with me and my sister but to me he was a smooth ass pimp.  The females stayed fighting over him.  All of them thought they were his main broad but he told me he was just really good at making them all feel special.  Turns out he just needed them all to hold his product at their crib.  In return, he fucked them real good once or twice a week and gave them a little change here and there to keep them satisfied.  That was all he had to do to have them hypnotized under his spell.  Seeing how he kept the ladies drooling, phat pockets with knots of money, and stayed fresh with cars and minks and the latest fashion made me want to be just like him.  And he was glad to have me as his protege.  He was the one who convinced my G'Pop to let me run numbers.  I remember my G'Pop's words like it was yesterday… "I'mma try you out boy.  See how ya do.  You can't be running ya mouth to ya friends or ya mama about what ya doing.  You get in, count ya money, do ya drop, you get out, and you bring the money back to me.  You have any problems you come get Bull and he'll handle it. If you do good I'll let ya move some big boy shit.  But before I give ya tha first job ya gotta swear to the family pact.  No matter what happens… even if you get popped… you don't tell NOBODY where ya got ya work from. Ya dig?  Us Lawson's ain't no fucking snitches.  The police get paid to figure shit out so let them do their fucking job.  Ya hear me boy?".  I was in a trance and I don't know if it was because I was finally about to get into the family business, the instructions I just got from my own G'Pop to not turn him in if I got caught, or the plaid pants with the silk shirt  and gold chains trapped in his nappy chest hair and the matching afro that had me gone.  Either way, I took my first package and I hadn't looked back to life before that moment until I had my face in the dirt with the cops knee in my back as he secured those silver bracelets around my wrist.  I immediately turned back to that 12 year old innocent little boy and wanted my mama to come and save me.  I was 18 and fresh out of high school headed to the state pen.  I probably should count myself lucky because before I detoured to serve that junkie  I was headed to one of my stash spots to re-up.  Had I re-upped, I would have had damn there 100 grams of crack on me.  It was the Fourth of July and the streets was booming with junkies wanting to get high for Independence Day. I wanted to make sure I was ready.  Since I made the detour they could only charge me with the 10 grams in my pocket.  And because I was only 18 and it was my first offense the prosecutor cut me a deal for five years with a requirement to serve four and probation for one if I had good behavior.  They released me four months earlier than scheduled due to overcrowding since instead of coming home in June as planned I was released February 1st, the day before my mama's birthday.  If I didn't take the plea I was looking at 15 years of my life behind bars.  

I've been home for a week now and I've already had more than a few reality checks but the worst of them all was seeing my baby mama.  Before I went in, I had this bad red bone chick named Tomicka.  She was 5'4 with thick legs, a tight stomach, beautiful thick long black hair, round dark brown eyes and lips that made any man dream of having them wrapped around his dick even if only for one minute.  We had been fucking since I was 16 and she was 15. She had just had my daughter, Kaniya two weeks after we graduated.  I had just gave her the money to get us an apartment two weeks before the raid.  After I got popped, she promised to hold me down with letters and visits and pictures until I finished my bid. We agreed that she would still get the apartment since she had the baby and her mama was an unstable junkie that I didn't want my baby around. I told her I'd have my mama make sure she had what she needed to pay her rent and utilities and take care of the baby until I made it back home.  I was one of the smart hustler's. I flossed a little bit but I always put half of my profit away for a rainy day.  I knew shit wouldn't be good forever and I didn't want to leave my mama or my girl hanging if I was no longer around.  At first the letters came twice a week and I had visits from Tomicka, the baby, and my mama every Saturday morning as promised. After about a year and six months, it was just my daughter and my mama.  When I asked where Tomicka was my mama would say, "she claims she had to work" but I could tell by her expression that she didn't believe that shit.  Honestly, once the letters went from twice a week to once a month and only discussed how much money she needed I didn't believe it either.  Eventually they stopped coming all together.  My mama would tell me that Micka started asking for money on a consistent basis to buy Niya things but after about a year it started to become excessive. She went from $50 up to $200- $300 every other day.  When my mama told her she would pay the bills directly to the billers and buy all of Niya's necessities herself Micka flipped out and disappeared for a few weeks.  One Friday night she showed up with my baby and some bags and told my mama she could raise Niya because she couldn't afford it. Apparently, after a year of cold sheets Tomicka decided she needed somebody new so she started fucking with this up and coming baller named Fred.  She had the nigga in my bed, around my daughter, and riding in the whips that I bought with my money.  I guess she thought the nigga could hold her down until I got home but she was mistaken. Turns out, ole boy liked to use his product more than he liked to sell it.  After about three months of fucking with Micka he had her smoking weed laced with cocaine.  Within six months she was smoking the pipe.  After a year she graduated to heroine and started shooting the shit in her arms.  My mama didn't want to tell me she Micka was turned out but after so long of reading between the lines and getting letters from other females in the hood that wanted me to know how fucked up my baby mama was I had no choice but to accept the fact that the girl I thought I was coming home to was now a junkie just like her own mama.  Instinct is a muthafucka because I almost gave her access to my stash spots and something told me not to.  Still, I didn't think she would get fucked up in the game like that.  That shit hurts me so bad.  The first day I came home she came running to me offering to suck my dick for a rock.  I wanted to throw up.  I knew this girl since she was in grade school, was the first to pop her cherry, had a beautiful daughter buy her, and now she's a crack head.  You could tell she was beautiful at one point but now she looks like the walking dead.  I couldn't even respond to her request.  I just walked away.  At this point my only focus is to raise my daughter and stack this paper.  I have to get me a spot, buy another car, and get my wardrobe together.  My mama copped this Camry with my stash money before I came home so I could move around but I need a bucket to move my work in.  I've been kicking' it with my cousins that are just jumping into the game.  They've been schooling me on the latest females to breach puberty and the undercover crackheads that are new to the scene.  We've been bussin' blocks all day and I keep seeing the same tired ass chicks trying to holla. Most of them are either too young, too old, or too ran through.  Don't no nigga want pussy with high mileage.  Just like a car, it's only good for so long. As soon as we turn the corner onto Murray Lane I see this nice thick red bone with a stroller and a little boy struggling to keep up with her fast paced strut.  You can tell she has major attitude by the way her pony tail is dancing back and forth with each step she takes and how she has her face screwed up.  She was pissed about something but I didn't care.  That shit was a turn on.  She looked a little young but baby girl was fine as hell.  My cousin Rico gave me the scoop on her real quick before I stopped the car.  He told me their birthday is 6 days after his so that means she turns 18 in three months which, in my mind, means she is legal.  And if she's not married yet then she is free game.  I roll down my window, flash my smile with my two gold fangs sparkling and ask her for her number.  She was a little hesitant but she gave it to me anyway with a little pressure and told me she didn't like to be kept waiting before she walked off.  I got the hint and went straight to the hood to drop my cousins off.  They called me all kinds of punk muthafucka's but I didn't get care.  I was headed to the crib for a quick shower and change of clothes so that I could scoop Ms. Lark up for the evening.  I needed a new wifey and today was her lucky day! 

Write Out Loud ~ Scroll Diaries

Introducing Larkin Taylor aka Lark

I can't believe daddy is doing this shit again.  You would think after almost 15 years of the same damn thing a person would get tired.  I mean seriously, my mom left him before I turned 5-years old because he was a whore, he drank too much and he beat her.  His girlfriend left for the same reason as my mom within a year of them being together.  His second wife left him because he acquired a crack addiction, in addition to all the other shit, by the time I was 10 years old.  Every woman in his life has left for one or all of the aforementioned reasons.  In the midst of all that, me and Lil Tony have bounced back and forth between what should have been home and our Aunt Leah's house since 1982.  It was cool staying with her sometimes but most times I just wanted to have a normal life with a normal family.  For those who weren't close to me, it seemed like my life was just like theirs. But for those who were, they knew about all the times my daddy would disappear for days at a time on a crack binge.  He would get dressed for work in the mornings, drop me and Lil Tony off at school (and any of our inherited siblings that may have been staying with us), tell us he loved us and that he'll see us later. It took about three times for me to realize that if he kissed me and hugged me a little longer than normal on a Friday that I probably wouldn't see him until Monday or Tuesday of the next week. I guess that was his way of saying goodbye in case something were to happen to him. It's sad that he loves that damn pipe more than he does his own kids.  He's never even made arrangements for us to stay anywhere or make sure that we were ok before he disappears.  Maybe, because so many people knew what he was doing and stepped up to take us in, he didn't have a need to worry.  Aunt Leah's was our home away from home but I didn't like staying there too often.  She had two daughters but we didn't mesh well. Michelle, the oldest, thought she was Gods gift to the world and had a horrible attitude.  She was only four years older than me yet she made it seem like I was a baby compared to her.  The youngest, Nyla, was just supper spoiled.  She cried about anything that didn't go her way.  My brother already worked my nerves.  I wasn't too excited about having another person irritate me on a continuous basis.  To avoid being submersed in a variety of different attitudes and temperaments, I would ask Aunt Leah if I could hang out or spend the night with my best friend and closest cousin who lived four blocks over.  There were plenty of times that I spent the night with  my cousin Racqui.  Sometimes it would be weeknights and sometimes it would be the whole weekend.  Sometimes she would stay with me but it would only be when my daddy had a "responsible" girlfriend that her mom trusted.  No matter where we were, we always had a blast. We sang along with our cassette players, talked to boys on the phone, watch videos, or wrote letters in our journals while sharing with each other some of our deepest secrets.  I remember we use to sing and do the routine to "Just Kickin". And one of our favorite songs of all time is "Tonight is the night" by DJ Quik. Man those were the days. My girl is gone now. After Brandon passed, it was hard for her to attend the same high school where we all had built so many memories together.  I had to go to her locker for her to get her books because the one she was assigned was one row over from the lockers her and Brandon shared during our Sophomore year.  She would burst out crying every time she walked past anything that reminded her of him.  I think she only lasted the first week of our Junior year before her mom finally agreed to let her move to Decatur.   

After Racqui left I started hanging with the wrong females and ended up getting pregnant at the end of summer prior to our Junior year by a childhood friend who had just joined the military.  I spent my entire junior year as the pregnant 16 year old.  I turned 17 May 7, 1995 and had my baby four days later. He's eight months old now. I'm suppose to marry his father after I graduate this summer but I'm not too sure I want to do that. The thought of being tied to one man for the rest of my life as soon as I graduate seems like some Color Purple-slavery days type of shit. My mom, my Aunt Leah, and a few of my home girls think it's a good idea.  Racqui told me marriage was a huge commitment and suggested I journal about it to help me decide what it is that I really want to do without the opinion of others.  So I've just been using this last year of school to sort through everything.  I feel like I need to stay here until Lil Tony at least turns 16. That's only 4 years from now. After being clean for two years and having a good woman keep him focused on his rehab I thought things would finally be different. I just don't think I can deal with this crack shit any more. Not with me being a mother now. I don't want my baby growing up seeing the same shit I've seen. Like I said, I want a normal family and it's going to be anything but that if I stay here since my daddy is back to his old ways and binging for the weekend with this crackhead friends. This time his ass took my car because his Jag is broke down. I'm super pissed.  Now I have to walk with an eight month old baby and my 12 year old brother to my aunt's house just so that we won't be stuck at home for the weekend.  I would wait for my Aunt Leah to get off work but it's 60 degrees and sunny in February. We don't get days like this in the middle of winter very often. I am not trying to be cooped up in the house until 8pm. It'll be dark then.  So here I am crossing Murray Lane with a stroller and a straggling 12 year old in my dark blue french cuffed jeans covered with my black Ryder boots, accented with an oversized black and grey off the shoulder sweatshirt and matching black ribbed tank top underneath. My hair is pulled back into a cute, high pony tail and I have on my favorite pair of gigantic silver hoops.  If a bitch tell me I ain't cute, I'll gut her like a fish! Nah, I'm just kidding. Seriously though, they better not try it.  I wish Lil Tony would walk a little faster because he is cutting into my day time to get out into the streets by making this 15 minute walk turn into a 30  minute walk. Just as I turn around to yell at him for dragging his feet, I notice a brand new white Toyota Camry pulling up with three dudes in it. I recognize two of them from school but the third one is a new face.  Just so happens, that is the one trying to holla. He's cute, dark skinned, small framed, nice smile and has just enough swag.  He tells me his name is Keniko Lawson but his family calls him Niko for short.  His last name let me know he was related to the guys I went to school with and he was probably in the family business which explained the new car with the temp tag, blaring sound system, and rims.  The Lawson's had the crack, cocaine, and heroin game on lock.  Before I could finish my thoughts, Niko asked me for my number so that he could hit me up later. As I stated, I'm suppose to be getting married to my child's father in less than four months so that I can secure this nice, normal family that I have longed for since I was 5-years old.  I'm suppose to be a housewife married to a military man with the military discounts, nice house, good education for my child, and a comfortable lifestyle. Yes, that is what I want. I have no doubt that is what I want. So why on earth did I just give this man my number and then tell him that I don't like to be kept waiting? Not only am I engaged, not only do I have an eight month old son, not only is the man directly related to the largest drug cartel in the Bootheel and probably a supplier to my daddy's addiction but he's five years my senior.  Yet, something about him intrigues me. Something about him makes me want to see what he has to offer. Racqui may be right…. there is plenty of time for marriage. 

Write Out Loud ~ Scroll Diaries

A Moment with Chase

Chase

2/3/13 Blog Entry

It's been seven months since my baby, Racqui, graduated and moved from Decatur.  She didn't want to leave me but neither of us were prepared to be on our own or to live together.  But I don't think either of us were prepared for the emptiness we would feel once she was 4 1/2 hours away.  I'm use to having her two blocks over or 15 minutes across town. At least then I could figure out a way to get to her when I wanted to see her.  It's been times that I've rode a bike or caught rides from my homeboys just to see her smile. One time, I even talked my homie Lloyd into riding with me on a bike, in the middle of a thunder storm, with trash bags over our heads. It didn't take much to convince him though because he was trying to holla at both of her cousins at the time.  He was on the handle bars and I was pedaling his big ass across Water St over to Stuart. That was some funny shit.  My dude is wild.  I think that's why we click.  Neither one of us is afraid to take chances.  I recall another time I wanted to see Racqui really bad.  I was staying at my sister's house by McArthur and Raqui was about 15 miles across town at her aunt's house. Her aunt was at work until 3am and her grandmother had already did her daily visit to make sure Racqui, Nattie, and Tricie had ate and did their homework. I couldn't get my sister to drive me, none of my homeboy's with cars were answering the phone, and it was like 20 degrees outside. I was not in the mood to walk. Then suddenly I get this bright idea to ride the bike. Yes, again!! I made it there fine even though it took me 45 minutes of fighting icy roads and bone-cutting wind. Once I thawed out, Racqui and I layed in front of the floor model cassette/record player combo listening to the "My Life" album by Mary J. Blige and Intro's self titled album while we talked for a couple of hours. I spent a little time joking and talking to Nattie and Tricie. We kicked it until about 11:30pm, we kissed, and I headed home.  I made it about 5 miles from Racqui's house when I hit an ice patch and slide side-ways on my ass from one side of the street to the other. Talk about pissed. I had just bought this grey Polo sweat suit and these fresh ass blue and grey AirMaxx 95's earlier today and I bust my ass on a patch of dirty snow. Son of a bitch! I was hot. So hot, I took that damn bike and threw it behind the Domino's and walked the rest of the way home cursing to my damn self. I made it home about 1am damn there frozen to death. I called Racqui to tell her what happened and she laughed for about 10 minutes. I didn't mind. I love hearing her laugh. I remember another time I went to her job to see her. She worked at the McDonald's on Eldorado in the drive thru. When she worked on the weekends she wouldn't get off until 12 midnight. I couldn't wait that long. So what do I do? I go through the drive-thru and place an order just to make sure she's at the window so I don't waste a trip to the inside. Of course she recognized my voice but I think she expected me to be in a car. She was too tickled when she saw me roll my happy ass through the drive thru on my bike. As you can see, that was my mode of transportation before I got my box Chevy. Racqui didn't care that I didn't have a car and I didn't care what I had to do to see her. That's my baby. I fell in love with her the first day I saw her walking through the mall with her two cousins. I had never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. She was slim, with mocha brown skin, long pretty hair, beautiful light brown eyes, a cute little nose and she was dressed cute in her little cut-off jean shorts, an orange fitted t-shirt that read "I'm Spoiled!" in navy blue writing, and some navy blue sandals to match. Baby girl looked hot and innocent at the same time. I had to see what was up. So my first instinct was to whistle. I saw her glance over at me and my homeboys and noticed her and the two chicks she was with were giggling but they pushed right past us like they didn't see us. That wasn't normal for a Decatur female. I didn't know how to take that shit. All the females wanted Chase. And the ones that knew they couldn't get next to me hollered at my homeboys just to say we were affiliated. So a female dissing my acknowledgement of her in a public place was both baffling and irritating. I had never seen this girl before and everything about her, including the diss, let me know she was someone I needed to know more about. I had to find out who she was before she left the mall, that's all I knew.  Turns out she was the cousin of one of my classmates at McArthur so I was able to get the digits and the rest is history. She's been my baby for 1 year and 5 months. My first official girlfriend.

When I look back over the last year and a half, I realize how much I really and truly love this girl. She's held me down through some crazy shit. Right after she moved here to go to school I got caught up in a robbery case and had to do a 60 day stint in the county. The fucked up part is I didn't even do the robbery. Someone lied and gave the police my name based on the description of being 5'9", wearing all black, and size 10 1/2 pair of the new Black and Red Jordan releases. They were only able to charge me bc the shoe size matched. But I kept telling the sorry ass detective it wasn't me. Finally DNA testing proved that I was telling the truth. Hell, I wasn't a robber, I'm was a hustler! I'm still a hustler. I've been hustling since I was 13 to help my moms out around the house. Racqui knew that I was a hustler. She knew I was innocent on that robbery shit too. And she held me down throughout the whole ordeal. Yeah, it was only 60 days but she could have easily decided it wasn't worth the wait and started kicking it with one of these lame ass niggas. But she didn't… she remained loyal. Then another time I was hustling on the corner  near Division St in the hood and three punk ass niggas in all black with ski masks jumped me, robbed me, and stole my gold fronts. They knew they couldn't handle me head up so they snuck upon me on my way home. To this day, I think my nigga Lloyd set that shit up. That's why we don't rock like we use to. But my baby Racqui was right there at the hospital and she came to see me at the crib every day until I got better. The best part is I'm not the only one who loves her. All my sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews, cousins, and most importantly my mom love Racqui. The first day she came over they all showed up to see who this girl was I was so excited about. And just like me, they fell in love at first site. I think the thing that's most impressive about Racqui for me is that she's still a virgin. All these tricks around here been fucking since they were 12 and 13. Half of Decatur has ran through them… probably two times. But this one right here is all mines and I'm proud to say that. It's hard as hell though because I want to make love to her so bad. I just want to be sure that it's done right. She said she wouldn't give it up until she found the perfect guy and that it had to be special, not random. I want to make sure that she's comfortable and truly ready before I take her virginity. She keeps pressing me though because are her hot ass cousins are fucking already. We agreed that we would wait until she was 18 since that's when her mother lost her virginity. My baby turned 18 last month and she reminds me every chance she gets.  I keep telling her to wait but I can tell she's starting to get insecure about my loyalty to her. She asked the other day if she could trust me. She's never asked me that before so I figured I needed to come up with a plan. I hit my sister Tae up, gave her the scoop, and ask what should I do. She asked me if I really loved Racqui and I told her, "Without a doubt". She asked me where did I see my relationship with Racqui in five years. I replied, "Married!" without hesitation. She told me marriage was a serious commitment at 18 years old but if I was serious about it she would help me. So I've been hustling for the past three weeks to get my money all the way right. My deadline is Valentines Day. I have a nice surprise planned for Racqui when she comes to visit me next week. I can't wait to see the look on her face. 

A Day in the life of Racqui (1996)- Short Story

It’s 6:15am and at this point I think I have already hit snooze five times. I keep my alarm clock set so that when it goes off I hear Hot 96.3 blaring a banging song to get me going but I’m not feeling this shit today. I’m tired. For one, it’s Monday Morning. For two, I’m still recovering from last night. Almost every Sunday night I go to Skateland, Naptown’s Westside Skating rink, with my girl Jonelle. Adult skate night is always off the chain on Sundays. We get there around 10pm and leave around 1am. We get high off a joint before we go and spend the whole time with me holding on to her pants, her telling me don't make her fall, laughing at other people looking retarded on wheels, and taking breaks in the middle of the skate floor in the seated area where the non-skaters dance. Before heading home, we go post up at the gas station on the corner of 38th and High School Rd to see the cute broke dudes and the female’s trying to catch one or block the next chick from being successful. Every now and again, a baller or two will come through to show off his rimmed up whip or blast his new sound system. That shit doesn't impress me though because my baby, Chase, is all the man I need. Besides his baby blue Chevy Capris with the gold flakes and the gold Dayton's is pissing on all these niggas around here. Add that to the fact that he's fine, can dress his ass off, and loves him some Racqui and my desire for any of these lames niggas around here is non-existent to say the least. Anyway, 38th Street was jumping, as usual, but our homeboy Davion talked us into riding out east. The other spot after the rink was on the east side at the White Castle on 38th and Shadeland. Jonelle and I both knew we had to be at work by 7:30am the next day but our hot asses just had to try and hit the strip. Little did we know, our ride would be cut short when some punk ass dudes decide they want to do a drive by and shoot at a car right next to us. We were both caught off guard but my girl reacted with God speed. She whipped that 4-door black Tracker around the median for a sharp u-turn and got us the hell out of dodge. I didn't know those little jeeps could get up like that! Once we were out of harms way we laughed about it like we did everything else. But on some real shit, I was shook like a muthafucka. With all that excitement and finally making it home at 2:45am getting up to go work at this bank with these fake ass white people, and the one other black bitch that wishes she was white, is not what I'm in the mood for today. I'm gong to drag my ass in though because I need to make this car payment next week. I don't need nothing less than 80 hours for this pay period by Friday.

As I'm brushing my teeth, I look at myself and replay the conversation Jonelle and I had last night on the way to Skateland. Her and Leland, her boyfriend of 2 years, had finally had sex over a month ago. Now that she's done it a half-dozen times she thinks she's a pro. Jonelle was a virgin like me but she knew that this was the person she wanted to give her innocence to. But just last year, my cousin, Nattie had sex for the first time with her boyfriend and now she's pregnant. She got me spooked. Getting pregnant on the first time?? Hell no! I can't deal with having no baby at 18! Fuck that! I graduated a year early so that I could get out on my own and enjoy life, go to college, and make some money. I'm not down with trading all that in for some Pampers and baby milk. Hell to the fuck no! But listening to Nattie and Jonelle describe to me what it's like has my hormones going crazy. My mama always told me that sex was something sacred and special. It should feel magical and special and something I only share with the person who is worthy of my most prized possession. Chase was that guy. That was not something that I had to question. He came into my life when I was battling one of the most difficult situations I have ever had to deal with. Two years ago, at the age of 16, my high school sweetheart was killed in a tragic car accident. I had a crush on him since the 2nd grade and he finally asked me to be his girlfriend February 13, 1994 on the stairwell of Scott Manor Apartments. Brandon was my very best friend. We talked every night on the phone. Sometimes we would be on the phone whispering and taking turns going to sleep until it was time for school the next day. During school he would walk me to each of my classes and after school he would walk me home from the bus stop. He was allowed to come to my house and visit with me either at the kitchen table or in the front yard. My mama didn't play none of that boys in the room type of business. But she wasn't super strict like his parents. Because I was not a Jehovah's Witness, they didn't approve of our relationship. It wasn't until his passing on June 26, 1995 that his mother and father acknowledged me and the love that Brandon and I had for one another. I grieved in seclusion the entire summer. That August my mom decided we would go to Decatur IL to visit her family for the weekend of their city celebration. It was during that weekend that I met Chase. We saw each other at the same time but I had to play it cool. I walked right past him and his friends at the corn dog stand without giving any indication that I had peeped his smooth chocolate skin, pretty white teeth with the golds in his grill, his swag in his overall shorts, one strap down, powder blue t-shirt, and white NC visor flipped upside down on his head. When I came back by he hissed. I guess the thirsty ass chicks in Decatur answer hisses but my mama and great grandma always told me that horns and hisses are for whores so I kept it moving. After following me to the other end of the mall, it turns out he knew my cousin. We met up later at the celebration and exchanged numbers… the rest is history. Chase didn't replace Brandon, but he made me feel safe to love again. I talked my mama into letting me go to school in Decatur so that I could graduate a year early (and be with Chase) and we spent the entire school year with broads and niggas trying to break us up. Every female in town wanted Chase. He was fly, kept money, knew how to dance better than most females, and had a lovable personality. I was the new fish on the market with long hair, mocha skin, a slim waist, and light brown eyes. We were both fly in our own right. Being together was easy. Just like Brandon and I, we talked every day and every night. We stayed on the phone until the wee hours of the morning. He'd get out of school at McArthur and be at Eisenhower in time to walk me home. The females hated that shit. They would walk behind me in the mornings and talk to their homegirl as loud as possible telling her how Chase was at her house last night or they were on the phone or he bought her this. I never responded because I knew that if he wasn't with me we were on the phone… so I had no worries. When he would show up and say hi to them and then kiss me I would eat that shit up. I loved it. The finally gave up. At this point, we've been together for 1 year and 5 months, I turned 18 as of two months ago, and I'm horny. But he keeps telling me we aren't ready. Most niggas I know was trying to take the pussy when I wasn't ready and now that I am ready I can't even give the pussy away to my own boyfriend of almost 2 years no matter how hard I try. I don't want peer pressure to control one of the biggest decisions of my life but according to the stories I'm getting from Jonelle and Nattie, masturbation does no justice in relation to the feeling of having sex for the first time. And supposedly, each time is better than the last. Chase and I gotta sit down and figure this thing out… ASAP!

To be cont...

Write Out Loud ~ Scroll Diaries