And cum again.
Her complex was a few feet away. It was the sister property toMorehouse, the condominiums built for ownership. She lived in The Evermore, the apartments built for short or long term renting.
Bzzzt.
Bzzzt.
Asia slipped my mind as my forehead wrinkled with lines. Bemused by the unknown caller again, I stared at my vibrating phone.
Who the fuck is calling me at this hour?
I turned away from the window and headed for the kitchen. The lone glass on the counter was in my right hand within seconds. I pushed it against the dispenser. Cold, filtered water began to fill the glass.
“Yeah?” I answered.
The call was on the verge of rolling over to voicemail. This time, I didn’t plan to miss it.
“Good morning, Mr. Mayor.”
I felt my eyebrows attempt to center on my face, pulling inward and downward. Not only was the prediction unprovoked, but the voice was unfamiliar.
Bullshit is to follow.
The polls wouldn’t be open for nearly ninety days. I still had an uphill battle. And, nearly every rich, prestigious motherfucker in Berkeley was waiting on my demise. They wanted this boy from the projects to prove his worthiness of their mayoral vote in spite of my credentials and the work I’d put in to get my name on that ballot.
“I’m listening.”
“I’m privy to your extra curricular activities.” The caller chuckled. “Admittedly, I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing but I don’t blame you.”
“Say what the fuck you mean or get the fuck off my line.”
I was prepared to end the call as much as I was prepared to find out who was behind it. Within an hour of my discovery, they’d take their last breath. I was certain because it would be me who squeezed the life out of them.
Ish. Chill.
I reminded myself how far I’d come, but in the same breath I was reminded how far I’d go.
“No need to get your briefs in a bunch. I’ve paid for a little pussy, too. There’s no judgement on my end, but I can’t say that for the voters of Berk–”
“Pussy is the only meal I will never pay for. You have me confused.”
I didn’t wait for a response. I ended the call, hating that I’d answered it despite my apprehension. I tossed my cell on thecounter and sniggered with disgust. The audacious claim made my chest inflate with air.
“Paying for pussy,” I tittered, “Nigga.”
Bzzzt.
Bzzzt.
I snatched the phone from the counter, answering on the second ring.
“Speak.”
“You’ll find something interesting in your email. Goodbye, Mr. Mayor.”
The dull, distorted voice riddled my conscience with uncertainty, confusion, and chaos. I ended the call for the second time. Only this time, I didn’t place my cell on the counter, I opened my mail app, expecting an email from the person adamant to ruin a day that had barely gotten started.
Nothing.
