Control, page 11
“What time you gon’ be done?” her guy asked over the line.
“I’ll call you,” she told him, pushing his imaginary head between her legs with her left hand. She even tossed her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, as if she was in ecstasy.
Dark & Moody watched it all and kept grinning. This bitch here! she told herself.
“Aw’ight, I’ll call you. But let me finish what I’m doing right now. This is how I make my money,” Melody told her guy.
“You could make money over here, too. You know I got you on that. We got plenty of beats,” he responded.
“I know, but I like doing my own thing. I don’t like to assume shit,” Melody countered, while bending over and touching her toes again.
Tasha had an urge to run out in the hallway and grab her erotic ass, while wearing her own spandex. But she restrained herself. Melody didn’t know her like that . . . yet.
Yeah, she gon’ make me get her ass in bed, DM mused as she watched.
“Aw’ight, well, let me get back to work. I’ll see you in a minute,” Mrs. Melody told her guy.
“You mean in a couple of hours, right?” he corrected her.
She grimaced. “Yeah, you know what I mean.”
“Aw’ight, call me when you’re done.”
For her encore, Melody imitated a strong-armed man, stroking her from the back with violent thrusts, as she pumped her hips faster and faster, while holding on to an imaginary woman.
All the while, Dark & Moody continued to watch, shake her head, and grin, while feeling moist and slippery between her own legs.
Once she ended the call, Mrs. Melody walked back into the studio room as if nothing had happened. “Okay, where were we?”
“So, you can turn it on and off just like that, hunh?” Tasha asked with a snap of her fingers. She was amazed at how nonchalant Melody was about her sexuality.
She said, “I tell women all the time, you keep letting them old rules about sex control you, and you’ll end up being miserable, like a million other girls out here. So, if I wanna fuck somebody, then I’m gonna fuck. And I don’t get all bent out of shape about it. Nor do I let anybody tell me that I’m not supposed to feel sexual. Do your titties feel good when you rub ’em?”
Dark & Moody grinned. “Of course.”
“Okay then. It feels good for a reason,” she noted. “Now, that don’t mean you go out and fuck every guy, all day and all night, ’cause we got other shit to do like they do. And you ain’t no open fuckin’ door to give it to just anybody. But once you choose who you choose, stop fucking punishing yourself thinking you gon’ control these guys with your pussy, because you’re not. And all you’re doing is creating a cat and mouse game that’s gon’ come back and bite you in the ass when neither one of you can stop doing it. Then you start feeling all guilty and confused about something that was given to us from God.
“So . . . I just do my thing and keep it moving,” she concluded. “I don’t add all that extra stress to my life. I don’t need it.”
“What about if a guy cheats on you?” Dark & Moody questioned. That was the elephant in the room that ruined relationships for a lot of women. If men could keep their dicks at home, maybe more women would feel better about being submissive instead of complaining.
But Melody’s response to it was a giggle and a shrug. “Hell, I cheat too. I ain’t married. And I never call any of these guys my boyfriend. So, don’t get it confused. But anyway . . . so, you want me to add different comments to the hook that you’re gonna mix in the middle, while the rest of the hook is stacked on the edges?”
DM nodded, “Yeah.” She was impressed again at how Mrs. Melody was able to jump right back into business.
“Aw’ight, I can do that!” she agreed. She started freestyling with an abundance of energy. “My eyes / my thighs / make nature rise on these guys / they vibe / then lie / trying everything to get inside . . .”
Dark & Moody continued to smile, while enjoying every minute of their work, even while thinking of Mrs. Melody as a one-dimension sex fiend.
Well, it is what is, she told herself. I gotta roll with the flow. She’s fucking good at this! And she got me wet now too. But we’ll deal with that at another time. Right now, we got songs to make.
MRS. MELODY
Reflection 18
AFTER A COUPLE OF HOURS OF VIBING TO THE FIRST BEAT, DARK & Moody finished an easy sex song with Mrs. Melody, which was exactly what she didn’t want to do. But the result was a hot record! She had to admit it herself. The song had a contagious swing and thump to it that was sure to get the strip clubs rocking.
“So, what you think?” Mrs. Melody asked, knowing what she already knew.
DM smiled. “It’s nice.”
Melody frowned at her. “Aw, girl, stop trippin’. You know that shit is hot. You can’t even keep your neck straight. We’ll finish your complicated song next time.”
“And when is that gonna be?” Tasha questioned.
“Whenever the fuck it is. It could be tomorrow,” Melody snapped with her foul mouth.
Dark & Moody nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna mix this one down, and we’ll get to the next one whenever we get to it.”
“Cool,” Mrs. Melody perked, while gathering her things to leave.
“So . . . what are you about to do now?” Tasha asked her.
Melody looked at her as if she was crazy. “I’m ’bout to hook up with this guy. The motherfucka been calling me all night? You forgot?”
“That don’t mean you gotta hook up with him,” DM commented.
Mrs. Melody tossed her colorful pocketbook over her right shoulder and stood in the doorway. She said, “Why wouldn’t I?”
Dark & Moody shrugged. “I don’t like it when guys are all pressed like that.”
“Well, you still got a lot to learn then. ’Cause when a motherfucka pressed like that, you can get whatever you want out of him,” Mrs. Melody explained. “And that’s exactly what I plan to do tonight. He gon’ eat this pussy.”
The girl was shameless. Tasha laughed at it.
I wish I could eat your pussy too. And have you eat mine, she thought to herself. Melody had that kind of wicked power over everyone.
“Well, be safe out there,” Dark & Moody told her.
“Oh, I know how to handle myself,” Melody commented. She even pulled out a colorful gun from her carry bag, like a comic-book movie. It was a .25 handgun that looked like a toy. But it wasn’t.
Dark & Moody eyed it and cringed. “What are you doing with that?”
Melody stared at her. “What the hell you think I’m doin’ with it? These guys are crazy out here, especially in the music industry. I ain’t slippin’.”
Tasha shook her head and was baffled. “You’re getting more interesting by the minute,” she confessed. And she liked it! She knew people who sold guns.
Mrs. Melody grinned and slid her gun back into her bag to walk out.
“All right, I’ll talk to you.”
Dark & Moody jumped up from her music station to lead her to the front door.
“I’ll walk you out.”
“You don’t have to. I know where the door is,” Melody told her.
“Yeah, but that’s rude.”
“Not if I’m walking myself out. I don’t need an escort,” Melody argued.
It didn’t matter because Tasha was already walking her to the front door. And Melody could tell that she liked her now. So, she teased her.
“I’ll be safe out there, Mom. Don’t worry.” She even stroked her left arm, gently.
Dark & Moody nodded and smiled again. “All right. Call me if you need to.”
* * *
Mrs. Melody returned to her car with bounce and swagger in every step. She looked up from the apartment complex parking lot toward Tasha’s third-floor window and grinned, knowing what she knew.
“When you . . . got ’em, you got ’em / when you . . . got ’em, you got ’em . . .” She chanted her catchy hook again as she climbed behind the wheel of her car.
Then it was over. She got back on point and returned a call to her guy.
“Yeah, where you at? I’m done now.”
“What happened to calling me back in a minute?” he questioned. It was damn near midnight. He had a point.
Melody paused. What was he trying to say? “You knew what I meant. I told you what I was doing,” she barked at him.
“Yeah . . .” he mumbled. He sounded noncommittal.
Melody read it accordingly. “So . . . what, you ain’t try’na see me now?”
He probably got a hoe with him, she assumed.
“Give me umm . . . a few minutes . . . I’ma call you back,” he told her measuredly.
She nodded, knowing what she knew. “All right.” And she hung up. “Fuck him! He must think I’m stupid!”
Then she thought of calling someone else. “I’on even feel like calling him,” she commented. But she was already pressing his number on her cell phone.
“Hello,” a calm voice answered.
“Hey, umm . . . what are you up to?” Melody asked.
He paused. “I thought you told me you was gon’ pull back?”
Melody backed her car out of the parking space and was still confused about what she wanted to do. Sometimes it’s better to do nothing. Just go on home and enjoy an evening watching television or reading a good book. But that’s not what she wanted to do. She felt restless. So, she pressed the issue.
“I mean, if that’s how you wanna take it. But . . .”
It was up to him. Either he wanted to take advantage of her moment of weakness, or he didn’t.
“I ain’t doin’ nothing. What you wanna do?” he asked her calmly.
I wanna get my pussy ate, Melody thought with a grin.
She was ridiculous. But at least she realized that stating what she was thinking about would have been too forward, especially when calling a man on the rebound. She would have to ease him into her desires in person.
“I mean, it’s whatever,” she answered. She was already driving in his direction.
For whatever the reason, he understood that she was offering him a free pair of her panties after breaking off relations with him a week ago, and he wasn’t going to turn the opportunity down. So, he said, “Aw’ight. I’m at the crib.”
“Meet me at the Waffle House. I’m hungry,” she told him. “I just came out the studio.”
He paused again. The audacity of the girl. “Just order what you need to get and bring it to the house with you. I ain’t going out there. I’m nice and settled.”
Again, it was damn near midnight, and he was not out running the streets of Atlanta. Nevertheless, Mrs. Melody was ready to argue. Waffle House was right around the corner from him. But she stopped herself. Beggars can’t be choosers, and she was definitely begging.
“All right. I’ll call you when I’m pulling up,” she responded with a cooler head.
She ended the call and was filled with trepidation on her drive. Should I do it or not do it? Yet, she continued on her way to the Waffle House that was right around the corner from her destination.
Melody found an open spot in the Waffle House parking lot and pulled in. She then hopped out without her bag with the gun in it. She only needed a twenty-dollar bill to pay for her order, and she considered her northern area of Atlanta to be safer, where she didn’t need to feel overly protective.
She walked in with her twenty-dollar bill in hand and headed straight to the counter.
“Can I get a Texas Cheesesteak melt with a side of hash browns?”
An older Black waitress wrote up the ticket and passed it on to the cooks behind her, while Mrs. Melody paid for her food and took a seat on a stool to wait for it. And as soon as she swung her head to the right, in walked trouble.
Shit! She panicked. Her guy BJ looked her straight in the eyes with a flirty female hanging all over his left arm. Medium brown and handsome with the solid build of a football player, he was shocked to see her sitting there right out in front of him.
“I guess that’s why you didn’t get a chance to call me back, huh?” Melody asked him sarcastically.
In his late twenties with money, BJ’s gold jewelry glittered against his black designer shirt, and was shiny enough to blind you. “We just hanging out,” he responded immediately. He looked ready to shake the woman off his arm too, but she held him tightly with a firm grip and a big body. She was a slightly lighter brown complexion than he was, and she looked like an oversized swimsuit model, the kind of girl who called her extra ass and titties “healthy.”
“Look like you doin’ more than hanging out to me,” Melody quipped, eyeing them both.
The curvy woman’s smile and giggle turned into a frown as she sized up the situation.
She looked BJ in his face and said, “You were supposed to call her back when? While you were with me? Is this the girl you were on the phone with earlier?”
As young people liked to say, the man was straight busted. He felt so exposed that he was ready to do away with both of them. And that’s exactly what he decided to do.
“You know what? Fuck all of this.” He pulled his left arm away and said, “I’m not about to be in the middle of no bullshit. So, y’all do what y’all gon’ do.” And he walked out without the woman he walked in with.
The woman looked around at everyone inside the Waffle House and felt embarrassed. All eyes were on her, including Mrs. Melody’s.
“So what you gon’ call, an Uber?” Melody asked the older, taller, and thicker woman. It was an authentic question, but the timing and reality of the situation made the Waffle House customers laugh.
“Oh, shit! She didn’t!” someone commented.
The curvy woman stared Mrs. Melody down as if she was ready for a fight. But she stopped herself with a raised palm of surrender.
“You know what? I’m not even gonna go there.” She walked back out alone with the intent of calling BJ back to come get her, while Mrs. Melody thought of calling him back herself.
“Matter fact,” she told herself, while still seated on the stool, “he better not get her.” She already assumed what the woman was thinking. She had no choice. BJ had left her there stranded.
“Hello,” BJ answered on the first ring.
“You better not pick that bitch up. Let her catch a ride home,” Melody demanded, spitefully. She had no idea how far the woman lived, nor did she care.
BJ had a nerve to chuckle at it. “You cold, man, you cold,” he commented.
His response made it obvious where his loyalties were.
“You just couldn’t wait for two fucking hours,” Melody snapped at him. “Guys.”
“Ain’t it the truth,” the older waitress responded with a chuckle. “They’re all impatient.” The Texas Cheesesteak melt with hash browns was ready. So, she slid it over the counter.
“Thank you,” Melody told her, grabbing it.
“So, what you want me to do?” BJ asked her over the line.
Mrs. Melody stood up to walk out with her bag of food. “Meet me at the Ritz-Carlton,” she answered out the doorway.
“The Ritz-Carlton? What, you got a room over there already?”
He sounded leery, as if he wasn’t trying to pay for one.
Mrs. Melody read the conflict in his voice. “No, I just want you to meet me there ’cause it’s close by. Then we’ll figure out what we doin’. Just don’t pick that bitch up,” she repeated.
“Yo, I heard you the first time. And she blowin’ up my phone right now.”
Melody climbed into her car and placed her food in the passenger seat. She said, “Of course she is. You got her out here looking stupid.”
“Naw, you got her out here like that,” he argued.
Melody pulled out of the Waffle House parking lot and smirked. “I didn’t bring her ass out here, and I didn’t leave her. You did that.”
She drove right past the curvy woman who was pissed and standing out on the sidewalk, while still trying to call BJ.
“This motherfucker!” she yelled, up the street from the Waffle House.
Mrs. Melody looked the woman off with her new song still in mind. When you . . . got ’em, you got ’em / when you . . . got ’em, you got ’em . . .
Meanwhile, she forgot all about the second man she had called to see that night. Her rebound with him was no longer needed. She didn’t even bother to call him back with a handy excuse.
Instead, she shrugged and mumbled, “Oh, well, you win some, you lose some,” and went on with her business.
* * *
Mrs. Melody pulled up at the front entrance of the Ritz-Carlton in Buckhead, where BJ was already waiting in his car in front of hers. She climbed out to walk up to his driver’s-side window as he stepped out of his car to greet her.
He immediately shook his head and smiled. “This a crazy-ass night, man.”
Melody smiled back at him. “Ain’t it though? So, where we going? Does that chickie know where you live?”
He shook it off. “Naw, I was ready to take her home after getting her something to eat.”
“And then what?”
Melody was already assuming things.
“Then I was gonna call you,” BJ lied to her.
“Yeah, right. You tellin’ me you wasn’t gonna do her tonight? Don’t lie.”
“I told you, we just hangin’ out,” BJ insisted.
While they continued their conversation outside his car, they were oblivious to being watched and listened to by an eavesdropper who stood right out in front of the hotel. The early-thirties Black man with a fully groomed beard jumped on his cell phone to report the incident.
“Ay Gary, it’s Mike.”
“Hey, what’s up, man? What you doin’ tonight?” Gary answered.
“I’m outside the Ritz-Carlton waiting for my lady to come down so we can go out, and I’m standing right in front of that rapper girl you mess with?”
“Who, Mrs. Melody? You sure? She was supposed to be on her way over here. She told me she was going to Waffle House,” Gary informed his friend.
“Oh, yeah? Well, not only is she not getting Waffle House, she’s out here with that promoter BJ you don’t like. I just figured I’d tell you, ’cause that’s a li’l bit much to be messin’ with the same girl.”
