( For virtuosity and to provide visuals as you read along, read all .gif illustrated online excerpts starring Yara Shahidi, Chloe Bailey and Halle Bailey )
- EXCERPT DROP 1
- EXCERPT DROP 2
- EXCERPT DROP 3
- EXCERPT DROP 4
- EXCERPT DROP 5
- EXCERPT DROP 6
- EXCERPT DROP 7
- EXCERPT DROP 8
- FINISH THE ENTIRE BOOK (remainder of the book begins at page 290-from where excerpt 8’s drop left off)
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(this entire published book – paperback and ebook for your Kindle, all smartphones and Pads – is on Amazon)
We didn’t talk too much on IM that day, nor did we in the chat room. She weighed heavily on my mind like you wouldn’t believe. She emailed though:
“Lawd…girl you got to be on something
I never knew anyone like you
I don’t even know what to say
I love you though.”
I guess after listening to my conversations on the telephone-she would say something like that. We are from two different worlds, have two different lives, and most certainly were two different species of human beings, because even if I had the resources to see, to know, or to hear things about anybody (whether I loved them or hated them), I probably would decline to take advantage of it (and not even so much as because of scruples); but because of the psychological effects behind it. I can only imagine it turning into about as much a need as we need food, water, or sex-and like for a drug addict to need a fix of the drug that they invited into their lives, body, and mind. I can only imagine how hard a habit that would be to break.
Eventually, doing shit like that can do nothing but take over: you, your mind, and definitely all your time. Sooner than later, that would be proven to me in ways more over than I could have ever assumed would be true for her. And if as if having me wasn’t already the fix she just couldn’t shake, she had an even bigger addiction she was setting her own psyche and heart up for. I didn’t want any trouble. She didn’t even have to worry about my getting angry. All she had to do now, was not push me: her pusher, and I would forever keep her high…
Mother’s Day Sunday, my friend Janine had called and asked if she could come over to my house in the evening to type a 7-page paper she needed to do for school. I told her yes, and we set up a time for her to do so.
Next, she started right in about a situation she had been going through with a guy she’d been dating. She had been telling me that she didn’t like him as much as he liked her, and that he had been pressuring her for sex. She decided she’d ask him for some money to see how he’d feel about her pressuring him for money the way he was pressuring her for sex. Well it turned out that she and the guy had talked it over and decided that they’d continue their friendship but that if he wanted to have sex with her, he’d have to give her something he had plenty of-money.
Eventually, that “fair exchange is no robbery” deal they had going blossomed into a full-on relationship in which she thought would could never be-was. Considering the many improv conversations they would carry on, as well as the jokes in the form of nicknames I would see Janet and her buddies drop down in the room; although I was a bit worried about her having listened to mine and Janine’s conversation on the phone, I still carried on as if she [Janet]wasn’t there [“overhearing”]. I didn’t interrupt my friend to say: “excuse me, uh, be careful what you say because Janet is tapping my telephone conversations.” I just let her carry on. The reality was this: this wasn’t the first time she heard mine and Janine’s conversations.
It’s just that now-I knew we had company.
They were quick with it, as they all were quick witted.
Immediately, when I got off the phone with Janine, I went over to the chat room to see what the verdict was: “2DollaHooka” and “JigglinJanine” rolled down right before my very eyes, I didn’t respond. I just let them carry on their little skit about her until I thought of something to interrupt them with to talk about (other than my poor friend). Instead, I replied to her previous email as if I saw nothing in that room that caught my eye:
Date: Mon, 10 May 03:37am PDT
Subject: Y.O.U (3 or 4 shit, I forget)
I love you too. (smile). Oh! LoL. No, I’m not on nothing, just high or low all day on LIFE..HaHa..It’s always something new (with you). LoL
Although I knew she had my phone tapped, secretly, I made myself an A) and B) promise and rule. I would never:
A) indulge in, or curb my conversations to satisfy or pacify her
B) allow her to scrutinize or ridicule my friends and expect me to talk to her about anything she “overheard” that had anything to do with them, or even me for that matter, even if what she “overheard” hurt her. That was my personal A) and B) promise and rule-no matter what she “overhears.” I simply refused to allow her to “overhear” something that may upset her (or even if it concerned me and in turn-concerned her and she wanted to talk about it) I promised myself that I would not, because she already had too much of this under her control already—shit that I
had no money, power, or resources to undo.
So with me, she wasn’t going to get it all the way around, hell no. Just like I would give her hell about participating with her “character” games, whatever little bit I could control; I was going to control by any means controllable. I can’t fight what I can’t fight. I figured that as long as she would play nice-everything will continue to be just as nice. But no puppeteer games and dangling from strings for me. Ever.
She responded: Girl you are so right *smiles* And I love you too. Talk to you soon baby…
Date: Mon, 10 May 21:42pm PDT
Subject: Re (.)
I don’t know if I should say LoL or smile cause you make me do both, (shit take your pick). HaHa. Just finishing up a couple papers and wanted to check in for you but since you didn’t come in. I’ll be back.
Late that evening, I received a call from Janine on my voicemail stating that her 7-page paper she typed at my house and on my possessed computer did not make it to her disc. She was livid. In the most menacing voice (practically growling) she yelled into my answering service: “ANG-IE, FOR SOME STRANGE REASON, MY PAPER DID NOT MAKE IT TO MY DISC AND I KNOW THE REASON WHY! OOOOHHHH. Make-sure-you-call-me-asap PLEASE!” When I listened to the message from my home phone, I knew Janet was also somewhere in the world listening with me. I took a deep breath and called Janine back and asked her if she saved the paper to my hard drive. She said she didn’t because she only typed it on the disc and kept saving it as she was typing. She yelled: “BUT IT NEVER MADE IT TO THE DAMNED DISC FROM THAT DAMNED COMPUTER OF YOURS! Unfortunately I wasn’t spared the way your lil’ friends spared you honey, MINE was COMPLETELY deleted. If I hadn’t had the paper written down, I would have been shit out of luck and I DID NOT APPRECIATE IT!”
In a calm voice, I tried hard to get her off of the line because of Janet. Janine also told me that she needed to talk to me (in person) as soon as I got a chance because there was more to the story. When I got to her house that night, she informed me that when she had gotten off the phone from leaving the first message on my voicemail (where she was grunting mad), her phone rang twice. The first time, somebody was giggling in the phone at her. The second time, they called right back and just hung up. I knew she wasn’t lying. I knew Janet and Shawn’s moves.
My instincts wouldn’t let me rest. I thought about the time I was over Janine’s house a couple weeks prior to this incident. I had been on her phone. Immediately when I got off the phone, someone called and hung up twice when I was there (and had just gotten off the phone). We both thought that was weird because she had just moved to her apartment, and had only had the phone for about two weeks, which brought something else to my attention: not only did Janet have my telephone tapped, she obviously had Janine’s tapped as well, and probably other people that I had dialed out to, or had dialed in to me.
Immediately I thought about how that nickname: “WhereverUare” would drop down when I would come in the room sometimes. I knew at this point for sure, that Janet obviously meant business about being where ever [I] was. I thought about the 4:10 p.m. call to my girlfriend’s house that day and knew that Janet meant business about being where ever [I] was (when she ran those series of beeps through her phone). In this game of phone tag, my girlfriend, like Janine (and countless others); was most probably “it…”
“Too far-fetched,” I kept telling myself with frown. But why not? No, the question is: Why would she not? This is Janet whose claim to fame is “control,” and she needs to let that be known, no matter what-at all (literal) costs, and by any means available + necessary (to her) Sure, I was rather disturbed about it all, but I figured there was
no use asking her about the paper because I knew she would deny it, ignore it, disconnect me, or bring out “Joanna” and get real Aussie on me. So I left it alone. I figured I would just play it all by ear.
Sure, I was rather disturbed about it all, but I figured there was no use asking her about the paper because I knew she would deny it, ignore it, disconnect me, or bring out “Joanna” and get real Aussie on me. So I left it alone. I figured I would just play it all by ear.
No matter what, and considering how quickly and in real-time they would “overhear” something (and then improv, joke, or clown around about it in the room); I was fighting hard not to react to it. Considering the fact that I couldn’t do anything about it-to react to it would give them more to do and would definitely turn up their fun for them. I knew that if I reacted in that room one time, it would only be a matter of time before they turned the tables on this “overhearing” thing on my own telephone (and then tossing my business across the room for their fun as well).
And well, should that ever happen-all hell is certainly going to break loose and some heads are seriously going to roll…
Because my purpose of telling Janet that I knew what she was doing was not to make her think it was “ok,” but so she could stop feeling like she was fighting phantoms from the frustration of being the only one in the know about exactly why she was always upset with me-not so much for her buddies to have the kind of fun with “overhearing” things they had no business overhearing-to giving them all something to do (in order to make the money Janet was paying them, worth it).
I wrote her with my same “I love you”’s and cheer as if Janine never said a thing me:
Date: Tue 11 May 02:39am PDT
I love you, and don’t you EVER doubt it.
She simply responded: I love YOU!
I wrote back:
Date: Wed, 12 May 03:41am PDT
Subject: Re: (…)
Aw. Don’t be a copycat. I meant it when I sent it. LoL. I’m not gonna say I’m at a loss for words or don’t have anything to say bcz of course I do. It’s just that sometimes u leave me speechless…”*smh*…You never cease to amaze me…I love you like no other…you know exactly what I mean by that huh? Bye Baby.
Soon thereafter, up at my school, my car was broken into near the track that I run on.
For some dumb reason, the passenger’s side back window was broken, and the intruder ripped my CD player out. To add insult to injury, in a little thin leather case, I had $350 stuffed down between the passenger seat and the armrest that the thief took as well. He was kind enough not to take the big bag of CD’s (that had nearly every current CD I owned) inside of it. I was pissed. I called the police from the scene and made the report. When I got home, I called my insurance company to take care of what I needed to do with them.
My mail pickup address location was registered with them (just like I do with any other business that I deal with), but the glass company they appointed for me needed to come to my house to repair the window. When it was time to give my physical address to them, I hesitated. That kind of stressed me out, considering what I was going through with all this phone tapping. My physical address was about the last piece of privacy I hoped I had left (considering the fact that Janet knew everything else about me).
When I got done, I called my father to ask that he help me out with the money I lost.
After that (incident?) when I was online with Janet, she was telling me about how fake I was [expecting me to read her mind again-this time, about something I know for a fact she “overheard”]. And in being considerate of what she knew for a fact I was in the middle of going through; why she would pick this day in particular to fight, knowing I would be in no mood? But I soon found out why. Bait.
Later, when she was getting dressed, she made mention how she was on her way to: “help out a friend in need.” I looked at the quote she wrote at the bottom of the email she sent me (after my incident but right before I logged on). The quote read: “Anyone with money to burn will easily find someone to tend the fire…”
Typically in I.M, we would discuss her quotes (that she would write at the bottom of her most recent email) but this time, I ignored that one-that’s why she called me “fake” (because I didn’t take the bait). I really didn’t feel comfortable responding to the quote, at this particular time. I guess since she knew that I knew she knew I needed money; perhaps I would ask her…(after we discussed the quote).
With this new “overhearing” revelation, that opened up the doors for a lot of good and bad things that could happen-especially if I went against my A) and B) promises and rules.
I knew that if I took the liberty of responding to anything she “overhead,” that was going to put her in a position of a new level of control that could really get bad. So although I was in need, I still had to stand by my A) and B) promises, because she already took too many liberties of opening too many doors where too many things can be run all through.
Besides, I mean think about it. With a mere $350 need, how much do you ask someone with over $200 million dollars for? I was more than sure that with as much as she knew about me, through all that she’d hunted and gathered (“overheard”) she had a guesstimate of about how much I needed anyways-even before this new “overhearing” revelation. So my thinking was: “BITCH. OFFER IT! Don’t force me to be put in your debt twice!”
If she wanted to truly give anything to me (with no strings attached and out of the pureness of her heart), she actually would’ve done that a long time ago, especially considering how she claimed to love me so + considering how long she had been phone tapping me (before I even found out). I’m sure she’s “overheard” a lot more of my money troubles than a mere $350 need and a fucking busted window.
Please. Shit, because I know if I was “Brie cheesed up” and called myself being in love with some chick that I was heavily pursuing; I would’ve wooed her ass from afar, so tough, and with so many surprises; that she would’ve thought she was dreaming. I would’ve put such a spell on that bitch that she would’ve been way too head sprung to think twice about being hesitating to come meet me-especially considering the fact that I had plenty of one thing: “money to burn.” She sure as hell would’ve attended my fire-stretched all the way out.
I was watching her moves and playing chess with her to the tip-top level I could: with only my sense and sensibilities-that was my only power in this. She ruled with the money, power, resources, and influence. But if ever this “F” went down (fight or fail-which would only definitely be over something she forced me to), I had to make sure all my ducks would be in a row and that my sense and sensibilities would be as valuable as her money, power, resources, and influence. I could already tell that she (and her hired help) were not good judges of strategy-especially in considering that one thing she had most to burn: Money.
In the game of strategy, you can’t fall for a girl, then go at her with a knife because your dude was checking her out too, and then flip back to falling for her and expect her to be ok with (still) no solid answers as to why you went at her so hard, but trust that she should trust riding off into the sunset with you by removing herself from safety, when [by way of that same thing you have: money] you can make her disappear if you wanted to.
But if you call yourself being in love with her (and your intentions were anything remotely close to sincere), you would put your money where it’d lead to your mouth: Let it be the first to be seen as the bait to get to you. She wasn’t smart enough a strategist to do that. And as smart and tech-savvy as her friends and digerati were, they weren’t smart enough to help her plan that perfect strategy (especially considering the fact that they knew she was “in love with the girl”).
This setup she’s got going don’t come cheap yet, she (or they) didn’t know how to lay the bait out to whom was most valuable to her (but yet they went through all that to get her to beg). I’m not a fucking beggar. You can’t know what I need, have it, and don’t offer (and we both know that you know). I wouldn’t even let a dude woo me so tackily, and I sure as hell wouldn’t let a broad with a dildo and a good mouth and some short fat fingers do it either-regardless who she is.
But that’s just me-my (sensible) thinking. And she’s not me. So there is another side: her side. And on that other side, knowing her the way that I do, I also know that she was never going to give me anything unless I asked her, because she wants to be in total control every which way she can.
Her need for controlling things was more mental than she could be anything else romantically or strategically. And I do know however, that if she sent anything to me it would not be a little bit of something, it would certainly be an amount to make her feel more comfortable than she already was, with controlling my life and time. The money would have just been the tool she needed to tell me who, what, when, where, why, and how I can and can’t doing anything-and if I broke those “rules” (even my own A) and B) rules) she would feel no way about making her virtual presence known in one ominous way or another that she could afford to undo or ruin (I do know that much about her brand of “romantic strategy”).
So until I asked her for whatever I needed, she was going to sit, watch and know. And me? I settled with being content in knowing that the money she is forking out to keep tabs and tap on me aint cheap-so she’s paying for me one way or another.
I methodically and strategically insisted that she only be in control of and given the truth about what I really did feel for her-that only cost me a lot of time (that I was losing anyways) and a few miles on my head and my heart but I’ve run races on that track before a time or two, so I’ve had enough practice and tons of stamina in that regard…
Probably within that same week, my car’s driver’s side door jammed. It was broken in such a way that I could not shut my driver’s side door. The job to fix it would have to be done by way of a locksmith coming to me. Some locksmiths were too expensive and others couldn’t come until the next couple days. I called my dad over to see if he could come do something about it-enough for me to drive to the locksmith myself. As soon as I got off the phone with him, Jan then called my house back to back-twice-and hung up (just to let me know that it was her-still remotely somewhere: listening, watching, and knowing).
Still, I had my pride, my “A)” and “B)” rules, promises + my sense and sensibilities.
She had her control issues. I kept in mind that, that controlling, possessive, money-clinching, stubborn ass Taurus was certainly not going to give me anything unless I asked her. Truthfully, if I felt like I had any leverage in this entire thing, I probably would have asked her. My friends kept telling me I was stupid for not asking, but they had no idea the extent and intricacies of this thing with her, they only saw the perks and benefits of my simply knowing a superstar that they only knew from a sweet smile on television…having no idea about her other faces and many ways.
I knew better.
Dana believed that my car break in was yet, another one of Janet’s jobs she ordered done just so I would ask her for money. “Why did a thief leave a whole bag of new CD’s-a bag that he could have put the ripped out stolen CD Player inside of? She knows how much you love music and how you ride around listening to music, that’s why he did the damage, took the device, and left the music! She had that done, I just think she did…Sorry babes,” insisted Dana. As much as would have loved to discount that notion, I couldn’t because of all the things this serious woman had done to me this entire year. And before considering Dana’s theory, I was at least was going hand my driver’s side door being broken over to coincidence too, but perhaps the intruder tried to get into my car by way of popping my lock and when that didn’t work out, they just busted the window to get in, instead.
After this episode, Janet and me didn’t talk that much in I.M (again) because she was complaining about getting some kind of connect to her computer fixed (again). She was always up to something (well, Rix was).
Anywho, she wrote me:
“I don’t want to explain it all, but I will be on at work only for a while. I know you know how I feel about this and I’m trying to fix it. *smiles Missing you…
Date: Thursday, May 13 02:55am PDT
Subject: Re: Re (<3)
I understand. (Don’t I always?)…Just promise me you won’t be like you were the last time your connect went down ok? Miss u too. Love u always, I do alright? I really do. (kisses)
Jan’s birthday was around this time, and all this month there had been a picture of her at that birthday party [the one that “Joanna”/Kajira invited me to when she first introduced the Aussie]. The party was given by Janet’s friend named Kris who owned a nightclub somewhere (I assumed Kris was the friend from the Track 7 of Velvet Rope’s Interlude before “Go Deep”).
“Kris” was never one of the friends involved in all this and we never talked about her, so I pretty much figured this Kris was that Kris (and one of her friends I didn’t know).
On the photo, Janet sat in front of a couple of birthday cakes and some wine. She had on a black shirt and was holding a black NY Yankees cap in her hand. Her arm was thrown over top of and across her head while she held on to the baseball cap. She had her lips puckered up as if she was about to burst out laughing (with her sneaky lil’ slick self).
It was funny because you could tell that she posed for the picture, but purposely did not look at the camera-instead, she was slumped down with her head turned to the side and looking at the wall. I laughed because “*Looking at the wall*” was something that she would always say she was doing [if while we were talking dirty] she would say something that embarrassed me, or had me taken aback (which was quite often). So to keep from embarrassing me, she would say: “Ok, *Looking at the
wall.*” Rather than her words on the screen expressing that, the picture reminded me of a live demonstration of how she really looked—”*looking at the wall*” (to keep from making me blush or embarrassing me).
I couldn’t stop laughing because she was so silly like that. Stuff like that used to turn it up ten notches for me with her, because she worked really hard to do the best she could, and to the extent that she could (all things considered)…
The picture itself was set up as a birthday card for everyone in the room to sign upon entry. Me-being special to her; I wanted to make it special for her. So from the May 13 day that it was put up; I would go into the room without signing the card because I wanted to wait to sign it until exactly one minute before the 12 o’clock hour of her birthday: May 16th.
When I entered the room, there was a conversation going on between two of her shit starting friends. They were talking about how obvious it was that I was ignoring the card (because I hadn’t signed it, yet, had been in and out of the room several times). They were talking about how pissed off Janet was that I had not signed it-considering the 2-3 page open letter she had sent down for me to read in the middle of the room while she was under the nickname: “SECRET” when I was in there one day.
The letter was so sweet and it really touched my heart. She said things that she
could not and would not dare send to me in I.M or email-ever. And since it was during a time that she and I could not talk in I.M (due to her “new connection” changes) the effort she put into setting this up really made me feel special-because it was obvious that she was feeling very euphoric and she was happy about the emotional place she was in-happy that she found [me].
As cryptic as it was; her buddies and I all knew what it was about. It made me tear up-I can’t lie, because it was unexpected and very well-thought out.
“SECRET” proceeded to tell the room that she was a hacker that had hacked Janet’s computer and found a love letter that she had written to someone that she was in love with.
“SECRET” revealed the contents of the letter, which stated how madly in love Janet was (with this particular person) and how she never felt that way before. She went on to explain how she loved (this person) emotionally, mentally, physically and spiritually and how she never thought she could love this way in her life and how she wanted the two of them to stay together forever. It was touching and pulled at my heart’s strings like crazy.
The chat room script changed posts about every 15-20 seconds and I only had 15-20 seconds to read the whole page (and there were about 2-3 of them), so I couldn’t ingest every word the way I wanted to (but I got the gist of it).
I was smiling and blushing, because I thought it was so cute. It reminded me again of how human she really was, and how vulnerable and shy she was beneath all the other stuff. Janet did a number on my head because just when I would step out on my heart and feelings for her and instead, rest and rely on my head; she had a way of sensing that-and at that moment in my head’s time, she would lay her heart and feelings on the line. She did that a lot in some way or another. She could do a number on me. I can’t lie. So for the whole three pages, I totally forgot about any terrible thing she had done thus far. I loved her in some new kind of way that I couldn’t explain.
The contents of the letter would have definitely pointed the finger at Janet, and sending it through the chat room was where she obviously felt safest, and I understood, (although I still hadn’t given her any reason not to trust me-despite all the shit they had done up to this very point).
Her child-like ways always did a number on me. Truth be told, the biggest part of me was really a sucker for her. She always needed reassurance that she was special and was the only one in all realms of my romantic life, and she was. My everything was centered around this woman-she was at the core of everything in my life at the time. She was very important to me. Although she had done things that hurt me, and the strange way she entered my life, and the things she was doing was uncouth; I still had some tucked away strange brand of loyalty and feelings for her as if she was my-everything from my best friend, to my significant other half. She just had that way about her. She relied on me and didn’t try to hide that-that was what she felt.
If you did feel any kind of way about her that you ever wished to hide, if she really wanted you—she had a way of pulling it from you and multiplying it to the tenth power. She was the sweetest thing (most times). I cannot deny that-or her. I think the reason that I loved her so much was because I could tell that she was used to getting her way with many-a-people “in 3 hours,” and that would most probably be all you were going to get out of her, from her, or have with her-a “three hour kind of relationship” and “three hour kind of times” with her.
I aint no ‘holla back girl, though. For NOBODY.
Janet knew how to collect pain, and ignore and forget about matters of the heart in a strange kind of way. Not that she was indomitable, but her resilience had more strength than her willingness or the necessity to play or stay. I say that because although her friends and I may have laughed about that “JanetsBaby” nickname and room joke, I know for a die-hard, hardcore fact that I saw her eight months preggers before. I knew the magazine name, the pose, and who stood with her in the picture-all the way down to what she wore, and the month and year I saw the picture. I’m not crazy. I have a memory like an elephant. About the only thing I can’t recollect about it was the page number of the magazine that the picture was in.
And as far as that, [in relation to this, concerning Janet], if somebody can give birth to a whole human being and deny its existence in order to begin and save a career and somehow convince themselves that it’s okay; I think that kind of mind-trickery can play out in any way in that person’s life too. So “love” is no match for somebody like her–somebody with the ability to be resilient and turn away willingly (or out of necessity). It’s a psychology behind that-and a deep one, behind her. And she knew that I knew that. She knew that I knew all that, (and felt that).
Having said that, I could tell that it’s not easy getting this far with her because trust
me, had I let her get at me “in 3-hours” we wouldn’t have ever gotten this far-and I would not have ever gotten a chance to get in her head and get in her heart in this way-ever. Her bed: Yes. But her head: No. So I was special-and I knew it. But then, again…I knew her. And she became special to me in a different way than when I didn’t know her. So I put up with a lot from her.
Anyways, when “SECRET” left, the room was set ablaze by everybody talking and carrying on. While that was going on, “Secret” (in lower case this time), came down and “*sighed*” then asked: “Cinamon, um, do you have my key?”
I responded: “Yes, I have it here with me swept safely under the rug…”
We smiled at each other, because no one would or could even understand…
But back to her crazy ass friends and this birthday card…
Because of Janet’s open confession and heart’s outpour, they rambled on about how inconsiderate I was for ignoring the card, and how Janet had even revealed to them that she had never been loved like the way I loved her and how the best sex she had was with me. I hated that so many people were in our business. I hated that I couldn’t really talk to her and tell her everything about how I really felt.
I hated that they all seemed to have influence over her shame. And when the slightest thing would go wrong, they were right there to remind her trying to make her feel like I didn’t feel for her what she felt for me, and that certainly never was the case. I just felt that because of how we were-so off and on (fighting all the time, her lil’ shit starter’s nose-poking, the phone tapping, and other madness), I had to keep a reserve as well as my cool, simple as that-nothing less than that.
It’s just that Janet came with a lot of red-tape, and because of; I came with a lot of yellow tape that read: Proceed with caution.
I went on and e-signed the birthday card but not without telling her when I had planned on signing it, and explaining that I was not trying to ignore her at all. I assured her that I did love her and how I didn’t appreciate her lil’ shit starters carrying on as if I would play her crazy like that. Although Janet was flattered, she was still a little pissed.
My explanation and reason still did not go over to well. My good hearted intentions always took a left turn when her friends got in the way-always-that never failed. I wrote her later that night (regarding her letter)-hoping that when I signed on, she would be in:
Date: Fri, 14 May 03:02am PDT
Subject: Re: (Re: [<3])
Uhddd…I’m over here pouting –lip poked out and shit…feeling all out on a limb. *tear* (smile) I got up all excited for NOTHING…I love you…
Later that evening I wrote:
Date: Fri, 14 May 16:10pm PDT
I just wanted to say that I KNOW that you KNOW I love you like no other, love nobody like I love you and nobody loves you like I do, now gimme a kiss. Man I’m feeling real crazy right about now. I wish u could hear my voice and see my face man *pointing to myself. I LLLLLOOOOOOVVVVVEEEEE crossing *hands to my chest* YOU-pointing at you. Squinting my eyes and squeezing my lips like I mean BUSINESS!” I love you infinitely, I do. I hope you know that.
That evening in the room, the nicknames: “CONSUMATION” and “CONSUMATED” kept rolling down. I thought it was so cute because she would remind you of a silly little kid who had a crush on you and the only way to express it would be to hit you and run. She was my heart. I knew after the birthday card incident, I was really going to have to make her know what she meant to me because I was so tired of her friends playing me like I would purposely play her as if she didn’t matter. So after that incident (when she and I got back on I.M consistently) every single time we would talk I would say to her: “Who loves you baby?” and her line would be: “NOBODY-like you do,” …and nothing but death could keep us from that much, no matter what.
We didn’t talk that Saturday at all for some reason. I did come into the room, and there were a few people in talking a bunch of nothing. The nickname: “BidnezzHandla” dropped down a couple times but didn’t post anything. I figured that was probably silly Lissa, because that was her kind of language (“Bidnezz,” “2DollaHooka,” “Alotavagina,” “GubmentCheese)” stuff like that. I didn’t say anything, and no one said anything to me either. I just lurked for a little while. No Janet in the room, no Janet in I.M, no Janet in email either. It was weird this time because if she was gone, they would let me know by posting: “*******gone.” This was the very first time in history that nobody said nothing-at all, so I left. I just figured that Janet most probably told them not to say one word to me when I came in while she was gone (she knew they knew how to fuck up our ambiance).
Busta Rhymes and the Flip Mode Squad was coming to my college to perform at a culture fest that was being held on the 15th of May and it was free. He came with Goodie Mob, and a few local rappers had performed as well. It was the bomb. I’ve always loved Busta (since Leaders of the New School and I was mad-obsessed with Goody Mob’s “Soul Food” CD and song at this time, so I had a great time.
It was especially good for my friend Ahoo because it was her birthday and she was having problems with her lover. When they would fight I would giggle at Ahoo and say: “Whooooa Nellie, you and KD Lang are going through the motions again!”
Her lover didn’t have a style like KD Lang; I would just call her “KD Lang” because she was a stud like KD Lang (but she always wore her hat turned to the back). When I would mimic her [lover] it would tickle Ahoo pink, especially when I would say: “Girllll when she cocks that hat to the backkkk, it’s on and poppin!” Ahoo would get a kick out of me making dike jokes about the two of them-so Janet had listened to that a time or two, too…
The very next day, May 16th, I got online at 2:15 p.m. Janet was sooooo excited.
Her turn now-it was her birthday. As soon as I logged onto I.M, she came down:“Angela, I-LOVE-YOU-BEAUTIFUL!”
“Who loves you baby?” I asked. “NOBODY-like you do…” she responded.
“I miss you so much,” she said. “I miss you too beautiful,” I confessed.
We sat there telling each other how much we were smiling like crazy.
We just kept “*giggling”…it was crazy.
I knew it was her birthday, but she was acting like it was mine.
I was still on cloud nine about her open letter-wanting to tell her so bad, but I couldn’t say anything about it in I.M. She said to me: “Angela, I’m turning my hat to the back…my…NY YANKEES cap…” she stressed and capitalized.
“I want you,” she said, in all seriousness with her brow up. Serious in a different kind of way this time—it was very…very… “matter of [definite] fact.”
I smiled and laughed to myself-thinking about my picking at Ahoo about her stud girlfriend turning her hat to the back, while I thought about Janet on the birthday picture holding her NY Yankees cap over top of her head on that birthday party photo. “This girl is so damned slick and clever,” I said to myself while I sat there giggling. She repeated: “I WANT YOU,” she emphasized and italicized in caps-as if she was sitting there darting her index finger into the monitor of her computer screen while biting her bottom lip.
“I WANT YOU,” I responded.
“*W…I’m staring at you from across the room, sitting up on the bed covering myself with a quilt.
Come here, right now. *Signaling you with my finger,” said this maniac.
She began forcing her tongue down my throat with the force of her desire for me-pulling my desire for her from me while taking the breath from my lifeless body. I was so weak. We were kissing wildly. I placed her mouth to my neck so that she could caress me where I liked it. She drove me crazy with it while sinking her teeth into my skin while I was trembling. She was crazy with it today.
Her desire was completely reset and resurged. While the candle was flickering, I lay there and looked up at her while she rolled off my neck at sat up over me then stared down at me. She began rubbing my face while she squint her eyes; looking down into my face like this was the very first time she really looked at me. She was biting her bottom lip and thinking really hard about something. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking but—it was very sexy…very sexy…I was getting so wet.
“You like these don’t you?” she whispered. “Like what?” I whispered back.
“These things,” she guided my hand down to her harness-to touch my thingy.
I was afraid to say “Yes,” so I nodded my head: “Yes.”
I then whispered: “Only sometimes.”
“I’m talking about the real ones” she said-in a slightly bullying tone of voice.
I didn’t respond. “I saw you-real good…You look like the type. Tell me what you like about these things?” she whispered and demanded to know-squinting her eyes and looking at me like she had me cornered, straddled, and locked in—and she did. I took a deep breath and lead her by the thingy up towards my face. She followed my directing. I grabbed it and traced it all over my face-softly until it tickled. I heard her gasp. She took over and began to trace all over my face with it while I rubbed the sides of her waist, hips, and thighs.
I reached up to grab it and placed it upon my lips.
She gasped again as if she could literally feel what I was doing-like the thingy really had nerve endings connected to her body.
I puckered my lips somewhat and thumped the thingy back and forth on my full lips as it bounced back and forth. She was breathing deeply-telling me that I was so wonderful. I opened my mouth, sat up a little bit and devoured the head of it, then took it straight back until her whole crotch met my face. I pushed my face into it hard enough to manipulate her clit.
She screamed out-as if that thingy was hers. It was too mental for her physical. She grabbed the back of my head and wouldn’t let go. I continued to devour and manipulate that harness pressed into her clit, she was cummin’ and screaming like crazy.
Screams of passion was an understatement…
When she came, I pulled the thingy out of my mouth and slid her down to my tummy. I grabbed my breasts and held them together, took one hand and slid the thingy between them.
She got a rhythm going. When she did, I opened my mouth somewhat and let her slide it up and down between my ample breasts as I sucked it while buried between my ample breasts. She kept the rhythm going, as if the thingy was really hers.
“Oh AN-GEL-A!” she yelled out.
She started slurping and grunting like she was getting angry at the thought of me doing this to a real one, but she was aroused her at the same time. It was her fault, she asked me to show her what I’d do with it, so I did-but it began to make her sexually jealous.
“Since you like it on the edge, I’ll take you to the edge!” she yelled-like she had something to prove. She grabbed me mercilessly and led me to the dining room table. She pushed everything off of that table-not caring what broke or busted. Immediately, she went down on me like a mad-woman while I held my legs up for her, throwing my head back and screaming out from the pleasure.
Screams of passion was an understatement…
She grunted out while standing in front of me, then shoved the thingy inside of me, holding it there-grinding-in me until my scream died down to a cry.
Without warning, she swiftly pulled it out of me like she wanted to cut me. She was both angry and aroused. She then slid the head back in and began to push it in and out-listening to the mess she was making, my wetness was driving her crazy. She began to thrust out of control while I was screaming from the pleasure she was bringing me. I reached down to touch her clit, and she threw my hand out of the way this time: insisting on grinding deeper and harder as if she was in a bottomless pit.
“Fuck me like you mean business about it. Fuck me like you mean business about
it…please!” I said to her. I tried hard to take all of it. She kept putting it to me like she never had before: up and down, in and out, round and round, side to side. I loved the way she knew how to fuck and work a strap.
When I came, she told me she still wasn’t going to stop. She went back down on me and sent sparks to my brain. My legs were numb and shaking so badly.
She grabbed me by my hair and threw me to the carpeted floor. I opened my legs and held on to her.
She crawled back up on me, held on to my waist, and slid into me nice and slow while she held her head down in between both of us-listening to the sounds of my tightness and my wetness. It always aroused her to slide into me.
When she would go slow and inside me, she would always concentrate while doing it as if it was getting her off that she could literally feel the thingy dividing my walls-in harmony with my moans. She loved to listen to my overflow below while she stuffed it up inside of me. She fucked me with a kind of perfection and precision so good that I started to cry when I came again-it was awesome. As she slowed it down, she whispered in my ear: “Angela did you think I was gonna stay in you like this without massaging that clit for you at the same time?
Come here!” she demanded. I opened my legs slightly wider and threw my crotch right up to her stubby fingers. She cuffed my crouch with her hands and did a dance on my clit that had me damned near singing opera. I busted on her hands while placing my hands on top of hers and grinding my pussy into her firm cuff and grasp.
I was shaking uncontrollably while she grabbed my neck to take my breath away. She was kissing me slowly and deeply like she wanted my life breathed inside of her body. It was intense. Oh I was loving her…
She kept telling me over and over how much she loved me so hard that she started crying and cummin’ in the seat of that harness. I couldn’t understand what had gotten into her today, she was lit…
She paused a second and came up for air from and posted with all seriousness, in her serious voice, post-climax:
“Angela… I cannot wait to hold onto your sides and fuck the shit out of that red pussy do you hear me? Then I’m gonna smack the shit out of that ass of yours…” she said raunchily. I giggled and blushed.
“I love your red sexy ass,” said this maniac.
“I love your sexy ass too, you fucking maniac,” I replied-embarrassed.
“Oh, I got your maniac,” she challenged seductively-with her brow up.
We “*giggled” again like two sneaky kids, hiding from a world who knew nothing about our secret-our real secret…
Since it was her birthday, she had a busy day ahead of her. But she said she wanted to speak to me so badly that she could not wait. So we talked for a while after our sexsion-then we logged off.
My intuition wouldn’t let it ride. My ears went up so many times during our
conversation. Her enthusiasm was way too fresh and way too “new.” Her behavior was a little more aggressive and textured than ever before. I thought about the words she used like, “your red ass/red” (my skin’s undertone) and “I can’t wait to hold on to your sides” (the obvious curvature of my guitar hips) things like that. Her enthusiasm kind of reminded me of how she first came down on me as QUEENJANET after having a clear picture in her head of what I looked like and who I was (from her remembering me from the night of the concert). Only this time, this particular day—she obviously got a bird’s eye view of me. I was like 99.9% sure.
She knew that I loved BustaRhymes and that I was only in walking distance of seeing him (at a free outdoor concert at that), so there was no chance in hell that I would miss him. All week long, through the morning of the concert on the phone, friends and me were making plans on the: who, what, when, where, and how’s.
I thought about how when I stepped into the room the morning of; I saw “BidnezzHandla” roll down, but I merely assumed it was posted because Janet was away handling some kind of business but that she told them not to bother me-not even to tell me that she was: “ ******gone.”
At first, I thought my notion was too far-fetched, but with this very serious woman, I could never discount anything. What she wants, she gets, and when she wants it. With this woman, the sky is the limit.
I thought about all the boundaries she crossed that brought us together and I thought: “with nothing but time and money on her hands, why would she not take a couple hours out of her day to get a birds-eye-view of the person she was so much in love with, and talking all this shit with. Why not? Why would she not anyway?” I could just imagine her hoping I wasn’t cross-eyed and pizza-faced. I mean-I too, eventually would have done the same thing—just to make sure I was really talking to the person I remembered and recollected.
That made me want to find out how and through what process Busta was chosen to perform at my college, but I was scared to even do the research. I was scared to find out that Janet had something to do with it-almost as scared to dig into the crevices of my mind trying to figure out why he performed for such a short period of time, but definitely sang all the songs that I liked and often played while sitting in my comfortable black Futon chair-listening from my CD Rom.
“BidnezzHandla” is an understatement, but I let that ride as pure coincidence…
She wrote the next day:
I don’t want to explain it all but I will be on while working for a while. I know u know how I feel about this and I am trying to fix it. *smiles* Missing you -J
Date: Mon, 17 May 99 13:53pm PDT
Mad missing you and wanted to talk to you…anyways…I love you…that’s all.
P.S-*Twisting my lips…man, it’s always something new with you…*shakin head back and forth, shoulders up…hands out, looking perplexed…I dunno…still miss u and love u like no other though…but oh well
Don’t frown baby. You know you’re my baby. Miss you and your sweet lovin’
She was going through another one of her “connection changes” (again) around this time, and we
From the next/upcoming chapter excerpt drop:
Of course Janet got her way. For the rest of the June month, we did most of our talking in her room rather than I.M (I guess until her “legal issues” were ironed out).
They weren’t taking any chances-at all. Just like the new “rule” was posted earlier into this (that you could no longer lurk without signing in first-during the time when Janet and Rene’s issues had been made public and it was announced that he would not be returning to the room) her digerati had yet another new “rule”: Everybody could only use three different nicknames (as opposed to the unlimited number you could use before)…
At this point in the game, that chat room was a full-on operation like “New Jack City”’s / Nino Brown’s goons running the motherfucking Carter.
Let Janet control it, wha’en no motherfucker going to take her down. Sure, she liked, loved, and lusted me but she stayed watching and looking at, into and around all things connected to me-just in case-while amid her upcoming case.
They were always up to something. Despite getting her pleasure principles on with me-they were obviously making sure they kept Janet and themselves bulletproof ‘in the event of_____.’
They knew that Rene was a chronic lurker and had seen more than his share of things that may and could be held against Janet (from knowing who was who hidden behind whatever nickname used. He knew everything-like I did-in that regard). So the bait and switch game was a necessary real. They knew I would lurk without signing in too, but for no other reason but to observe (or wait for J). So when
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