Maybe, Maybe Not

7. Mr. Lonely Man

Waking up to not having Jakinda in bed with him was a letdown.

After all the things he did to that woman last night, he was expecting more of the same in the morning. He stretched and stepped out of his bed, still naked as a jaybird. He rubbed his morning wood thinking about all the things that woman did to him.

He wanted more.

He wanted her in every way and he wanted her now. He grabbed his phone from the floor to see if she left him any messages. There was none.

This was depressing. Maybe he hadn't done as good at dicking her down like he thought. The way she was moaning and quivering he knew that was a lie. What was he supposed to do now? He did not have her number unless she called or texted him, so he guessed he had to wait it out.

He showered and dressed, grabbed a bagel to toast, and headed out of the house. He had a barber appointment to get a lining and shave and then get his locs retwisted so even if Jakinda stayed over there wouldn't have been time for fucking.

Still, he hoped she would call and they could hang out more over the weekend. Do something fun around the city before he made it back to his place for a repeat.

"What's up, youngin?" his barber greeted when he walked into Dave's Cuts on West Florissant for his every other week lining. He had to stay fresh and he prided himself on looking good. His locs were retwisted and styled every six or eight weeks, depending on what was needed.

"We good," he replied to him as he took his spot in the chair.

"We were just talking about how you young blood keeps throwing yo dick in any ole hole and then still live in ya mammy's house and expect the lady to stick around." This from Old Joe, been coming to the barber shop ever since he was born. He was sixty-two and the place was that old.

The place was already in third-generation hands. He had only been coming a few years himself, but it was always trash-talking going on from the oldies. Mostly talking about the young generation and how they weren't shit. He just listened and nodded mostly.

Case in point with this conversation.

"Old Joe, now you know all these young cats just sticking and moving. They ain't ready to lay their shoes down and rest," Dave said as he prepared him for his cut throwing the cape around his neck and adjusting it. Dave was not that much older than him at thirty-five, so he did not understand who he was calling a youngin.

"These young girls calling them on that bullshit," Old Joe stated. "They either still living with they momma's or crashing at whatever old lady gonna let them lay their head to rest there."

"Yep!" another older gentleman piped in. "And when he cheats, and they always do, crying about, "But I ain't do nuthin!'"

He was not going to lie, he knew a couple of homeboys like that. His cousin. Him for a little bit after he dropped out of college, sleeping around with any girl that would let him crash at their place. Other guys his age that were still trying to figure it out. He was sure these old men had it all together at his age.

"What do you want us to do, marry up every girl we come by?"

That got a few of the men hype.

"Hell no! Marriage is for suckers."

"Why marry the cow if you're getting the milk for free."

"Why settle down for one when free pussy is everywhere?"

He was not going to listen to these old, unhappy men. He was not about that life. What happened to being respectful to women and treating them like the Queens they were? Especially the Black woman. They were the heart of the nation and the strongest beings on the planet. He came from a Black woman and he respected every Black woman that came his way.