WILD THANGZ by Winston Chapman (An Essence Magazine National Best Seller)

Chapter 16

"Hello? Hello? Hell—lll-oohh?" I answered the phone at a little after 8:00 AM on Tuesday morning.

"Is Brea home?" the ominous man's voice asked.

"Brea don't live here anymore," I said, frustrated while looking at the Caller-I.D. to see that it was yet another call for Brea from a 718-area code.

"Where she live now?!" the mysterious man said, as though it was a demand, in an east- coast accent.

"WHO IS THIS?!" I whipped back.

Click. The phone hung-up, as I scowled at the receiver with a disdained look upon my face.

"Who was that, another call for Brea?" Trina asked.

"Yeah. Sometime this week, we gon' have to get our number changed," I informed Trina.

Over the past four days, we'd gotten so many calls for Brea from men that didn't want to leave their names or a message. Most of them from the same NYC, 718-area code.

"Was it that 718-number, again?" Trina inquired, stirring her cup of coffee.

"Yeah. I'on't know who he is, but Brea must've fucked the shit out of him or something because he wanna get back in touch with her bad!" I laughed to Trina.

"I know!" Trina added, "He sounds like a white boy too!"

"You know, I was thinkin' the same thing, but I didn't say nothing because I wasn't sure if it was that New York accent that was throwin' me off or not," I commented back.

Trina was in the midst of Final Exams Week at Spelman. Other than an extra cup of coffee in the morning, she never showed any signs of stressing about them. That definitely wasn't the case for Brea and I back when we were still in school.

"Tyisha! Hurry up!" I yelled at my sister's slow-poking around in the bathroom.

I had a busy day today and she was going to mess-up my schedule with her teenage-ish overly-concerned prepping in the bathroom.

I had to drop her off at camp, go by Twisted's studio in Stone Mountain to lay down some vocals on a couple of new songs for Brandon that would be submitted for review for the movie soundtrack and still make it to work at R e f l e x by at least 11:45, because I had a Noon-appointment scheduled.

Even after work, I had to go back to the studio for a short rehearsal from 5:00-6:00 PM because Brandon had secured another last-minute gig.

"Tyisha, do you have your key to the apartment?" I asked, sitting in the car in front of the Summer Camp.

"Yes! You asked me that three times already," she responded irritated. "Let me see it," I demanded proof.

"See-eee," she pulled it out of her purse.

"Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure!" I explained my over-zealousness. "I gotta go to the studio tonight until 6 o'clock and Trina's gonna be in class taking Finals. So, you're gonna catch the bus home. Bring yo' ass straight home! I'ma call you to make sure!" I aggressively informed her.

"I know, danggggg! I always come straight home!" she said.

And Tyisha was speaking the truth. Since she'd been staying with us, she'd never failed to come straight home on the bus. I was just nervous because this time, Trina was going to be in class and not already home, expecting her arrival.

As I drove to Twisted's studios, I hated that I had to record vocals so early. I worried about how well my singing would be, because I figured, nobody sounds good in the morning. Partially because of Tyisha's primpin' in the bathroom and our car conversation, I was 20- minutes late when I arrived. And I knew that word would get back to Brandon later in the day about me wasting money by having recording engineers waiting for me.