Never imagined I would have to be responsible for so many people living under one roof. Life was so much simpler then. When I was running dolo. For self. Like, I could leave my home on Monday morning and not have to come back until a week later. And my home was fresh too. One bedroom apartment on 7th between Lincoln and Berkeley in Park Slope. When rents in New York were cheaper, and neighborhoods like that had more color. New York was banging too. The club scene was crazy, and I loved the many flavors of women the city had to offer. I finally started making some decent money and the city was my playground. Kniccas was feeling so good we even named our crew the Mack Pack. Sounds corney now, but believe me how we lived up to the name. One of our boys owned a ginormous brownstone in Prospect Heights. It was massive. Eventually his wife convinced him to put it on the market as they, with kids in tow moved to the suburbs of Chicago.
My cousin Fritz, a member of our crew, was overseeing the affairs of the Brownstone. Being that it took almost two years to sell the house and we were young and full of ourselves, we did what any fly 20 something year old dudes dudes with keys to a big house would do, we started throwing parties. House parties in Brooklyn is magic, the right parties though. We’d set up the dj set, pool our monies to cop liquors and beer kegs, made sure the women to men ratio was always in favor of the fairer sex, just cause we didn’t want a hard leg fest resulting in niggas fighting and all damaging the crib, and we’d be set. After a couple of joints, the rep got bigger and eventually we’d have the whole place packed, people spilling out onto the street. Regular 9-5 cats would be building with music industry execs and maybe a handful of street hustlers. And trust also, that at the end of every event, I’d find something soft and warm to hold on to, back at my crib a coupla blocks away, as the sun started to rise.
On my birthday, which falls in July, we decided to go big with a party. Fun was an understatement. Black, Latina, Asian, European, dudes was in heaven with the line-up. I was rocking the timbs with some shorts and the Jordan 23 jersey, red-bandana’d up, even though Chicago had just kilt New York in the playoffs, (Bloods and Crips hadn’t yet invaded NYC). Some of my boys who were correction officers were up in the piece and you know how grimey them cats be. Had me skied the eff up and a nigga don’t even get down like that. Anyways, I’m having a ball, speeding, playing host when I felt a hand touch my calf. I looked down and saw the most beautiful chick I’d ever seen in real life looking up at me. Honey colored, Asian eyes, “Nice legs, I like guys with nice legs.” she said. Heh. I locked in. Pimp talk flying ’cause she started first, plus from that shit that was flowing in my blood system, me being high as a satellite. Her name was Akim. That she was a Cancer too, her birthday being 10 days before mine. Told me her pops was Black, moms was Chinese, that she was straight Brooklyn all her life, even though we never saw each other. Her body was mad athletic, but the bottom was a certified fatty. Thick thin is what she was. So zoned in was I that other than making sure most of the guests were fine, I rarely left her side. Plus, I knew how competitive my dudes were, how hungry the other kniccas in the place was for something as exotic as her. For real, mad water was gathering in my mouth, thinking about how she was gonna get ate up like a plum later that night.
“Time to go, Akim”, one of her girl’s said, as the clock hit 4am. I was like “she’s good, really”. Akim pulled herself slowly from my grip, “gotta go, nice meeting you.” Damn. I spit “Lemme get your number girl, I have to see you again.” “Sorry I cant, you’re cute, and I had fun, but I have a boyfriend.” she replied. Annoyed at the tease, aroused by the challenge, I kept her hemmed up in my corner for like another 30 minutes, talk getting more accurate, more intimate. Doing my best to break her that night, at my party, on my birthday. Her girls getting more impatient, not getting the attention she was. Eventually, we hugged for like a minute, smelling, feeling so fucking good. Taking my number, she broke off and hopped in the whip. Me standing out on Park Place scheming on how I was gonna bag Akim.
The next day, I asked my crew who invited her, who came with her. My brain was sharper now, now that I hadn’t had liquors and what not, so my detective skills was in action. Found out Roslyn invited her. Roslyn was one’a my boys’s from High School’s sister. After waiting two days for Akim to call me, I called Roslyn. Kinda ordered her to order Akim to call me. Told Roslyn I wasn’t effin around either. Felt like the prince with the glass slipper in that fairy tale. But Akim gave me the intial open, she saw me first and caught my attention on purpose. Fuck how I was gonna let that one get away.
She eventually did call me. Playing games even. Like joking about how I was sweating her through Roslyn, tracking her down. Told her she was right too, how I had to sweat that, or be crazy, or gay. Laughter. Good. Learned a long time ago that I could bag she who I made laugh. Even with no dough in the account. Made her laugh some more, until I convinced her to laugh me her telephone number. She did. First down. Tough ass defense though. But now I knew I was in. Being single, I was definitely dating, but wasn’t attached to anyone seriously. Wasn’t even trying to get locked down with Akim either. I just knew though, that I had to have someone that fine in my life though. Ego, attraction, whatever, like I said, I was locked in on her.
We spoke a coupla more times, always ending the convo on how I wanted that, needed that bad, she with the how she loves her boyfriend, how I wasn’t her type, her type being over 6 feet tall and athletic (me being 5’8″ and not trying to play games all day working up sweats and bruises with other men… [ll]). One day though, while at work, I get a call from her telling me how she was in my neighborhood, did I want to go out for lunch. Having just ate, I told her I hadn’t had lunch and was available. I had her ride the elevator up, only because I wanted everyone on the floor to see the caliber of beauty I was working with. Then we walked, from 57th and Broadway to Trump Plaza on 5th Avenue. Found out she worked at some swanky eyeglass shop in the lobby of Trump. Even though she had a degree from Columbia University. My God, the summer dress she had on, looking more delicious than the night I met her. She played aloof, like a fairy flying around my head, I found more pimp talk to spit. Like how she needed a dude like me who was doing real things in the industry in her life, not her boyfriend who was in politics. Like how she moved like a wild cat and I was the one who could tame her, how it was obvious her boyfriend didn’t know what kind of beast he had. She liked it too. Smiled and laughed. Telling me I was “safe” to hang with because I wasn’t her type. Lunch ended way to soon, we hugged again, all the while I’m holding back from sliding my hands up her leg, from kissing her mouth. But damn if she knew where my mind was and loved how she kept me.
We were repping the legendary Melvin Van Peebles at the time. He just shot a short for a German company called “Vroom, Vroom, Vroom”. He even had me play a role in it. He was using the “morph” technology that they had used in “Terminator 2″ as special effects. I say this because I played… a motorcycle… that ended up having sex with the woman that rode me. (I think the movie is available on Netflix). Melvin had just wrapped and was having a screening in Tribeca. I invited Akim to join me. Maybe she’d be that more impressed with me, give her man the boot, or at the least, let me hit. The event was propers, and it was obvious I was running with good company professionally. She looked perfect on my arm too, catching stares not only from other guys that were there, but from women as well. After wards, I dropped a grip dining her at Mr. Chow’s. We sat a couple of tables away from Bette Midler. Akim wasn’t impressed though. Said having grown up eating authentic Chinese, she knew some way cheaper spots deep in Chinatown that would put Chow’s to shame. We ended up back at my place. We talked, we laughed we kissed. But shit, no hit. Her boyfriend, “blah blah blah”. Keeping cool though, I wondered why in the eff she was here with me if she was so cotdamned loyal. She eventualy left, left me with a mean case of the blue balls too, but I got that kiss, got to taste her, feel how tight and soft her body was, how good she smelled. I was getting closer. And it felt like it was coming sooner than later. Another 1st down. And regardless how tough it was, during the course of the game, the defense was weakening.
About Combat Jack
Attorney, author and radio personality Reggie Ossé is an established authority in all things urban entertainment. He is considered the first in today’s new wave of savvy attorneys well versed and nurtured in Urban, Hip Hop and Popular culture. He is the author of “Bling, The Hip Hop Jewelry Book”, a cultural anthropology coffee table book which provides an in depth and entertaining study of man’s fascination with jewelry spanning back to the birth of civilization.
- Web |
- YouTube |
- More Posts (454)
Presented by Theotis Jones 
