That's Why I Love You

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Marcus

After the party, I went back to doing what I do, which is making music, beats, sounds - creating a musical language. It was nice to be out meeting people in the industry, rubbing arms with niggas I've admired in the business since I started. I loved to see my black brothas and sistahs doing the damn thang - together. And not out here doing some stupid shit, we got enough negative stereotypes that can last a lifetime.

It's time to create some new stereotypes - if this shit needs to be categorized. All I know is my mother did her best to raise a black boy in the city of Chicago; trying not to lose me to the streets. She didn't, I was a good kid. I had my moments though, but on the up and up, I was a good kid. Otherwise my mother would be the black off my ass - she did not play.

Yet it felt good to be out with people at the party that had a lot going for them and they were all there getting to know other people, trying to connect and help each other grow. We ALL in this shit together so we might as well help each other!

I didn't get her name.

She's been on my mind since I left. There were so many motherfuckers in that motherfucking place, I don't even know if Franklin or Monica knew her.

She was fine as hell. Her dreads were cute and she was a redbone, slightly on the yellow side. She looked like she might have some Creole in her blood; her lips were so full. She felt so good. She was a freak.

She blew my mind.

I picked up the phone and called Franklin, he had to know who she was.

"What up boy, what it do?" Franklin answered. I could hear him in the studio working.

"Ah man, I ain't wanna stop you,"

"Nah, nah man, we good. We're taking a break, what up?"

"Dawg," I started and stopped. I instantly thought of her in that room. We fucked in that room.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Yeah, man. My bad, hey got a question dawg,"

"What up nigga shit," he said getting impatient.

"There was a girl at the party," I started. Franklin interrupted.

"Ahhh shit, here you go again,"

"Nah man, listen. There was this girl, fine as hell at the party,"

"A'ight, what's her name?"

"I don't know," I answered. It got quiet on the phone. I could here Franklin get up and leave out the room.

"Fuck you mean, you don't know?" he replied.

"I didn't get her name dawg okay?"

"A'ight well what does she look like?" he asked.

"She was about 5'7" or 5'9", light skinned but almost redbone, you know. Oh and dreads, she got dreads,"

"Nigga," he started. I could hear him taking a puff over the phone. "That's half the females up in there," he finished.

"I know," I said feeling defeated. I don't know why I couldn't stop thinking about her.

"Well what about her,"

"I fucked her," I said openly.

"What?"

"I fucked her," I repeated.

"When?"

"The night of the party," I answered.

"Damn, where?" he said, sounding curious.