taylorMADE ~ The Misbehaviors of Danté

The evolution of a story ...

taylorMADE, which I'll also put under the favorites section on the right so it'll always be on top, is going to be SGL Café's on-going fiction section, which is how my first ever published short-story,

A Taste for Cherries, began. Plus, I wanna play with characters while getting feedback at the same time. Don't mince words either.

The first in the taylorMADE series will be

... The Misbahaviors of Danté (though I'm liable to change the title any second). Danté is a favorite character of mine because he's me to the second power. I have no idea where the story is going (I never do). But I'll keep working on it, right here, and we'll see how a story can evolve.

When following its development, always start from the beginning ... 'cause things may have changed drastically. I plan to keep it short.

The Misbehaviors of Danté (photos are of my boy Mikey, which I included because he's not fem, not butch ... but just right hot.) I love it when a guy makes me tingle . . .

… yeah, that almost imperceptible tickling beneath the skin of the neck, which fires off nerve-endings intermittently, trailing down your spine before disappearing into steamy nether regions. I first met Tim through the two Louies. That’s what he did that first day. He made me tingle, all over … and grin like a fifth-grader with a secret. I hadn’t seen him in a while, years actually, but as I dodged traffic to reach the corner where he stood, we were almost face to face again. He fidgeted as he watched me approaching, after almost turning the other way when our eyes first touched. A knot twisted in my stomach as my mind recalled the way he looked that August day, how sweet he’d been … and how instantly hooked I became on his little red-headed Latino ass. Yeah . . . I tingled when our palms first touched. Louie number two introduced us with a subtle but smug fanfare—mostly with his eyes—like he was giving me a birthday present he was confident I’d like. I should’ve known right there, but the blood in my brain had dashed off for some reason. Besides that initial tingle … his reddish hair and pale features got caught in my chest and stayed there, hidden, like a virus waiting to spread and kill me on one of those desperate nights. He was young too; I wasn’t exactly sure how young and didn’t wanna ask … plausible deniability and all that. The four of us lounged on thick carpet amongst loose over-sized pillows, shoeless, watching music videos. The room was small, and the flat screen taking up an entire wall made it seem even smaller. Tim sat cross-legged preparing to roll a meticulous blunt … while I lounged next to him asking questions, watching his lips, enjoying his scent, tingling. He’d been shredding the weed on the low marble coffee table by candlelight, painstakingly reducing the pungent herb to an almost powder-like state with just his fingernails. As he told me things, glancing over and smiling occasionally, my eyes kept taking snapshots. His white doo-rag caused his eyebrows to arch a little, and the pale pink cap cocked precariously brought my eyes down to the matching wife-beater. He was just young enough, confident enough, masculine enough … to not just ‘get away’ with that look, but also to master it. I wanted fuck him stupid, right there in front of his boys. Thanks, yo . . . his lips said, and then pursed themselves to sip his Parrot Bay and coke. My eyes trailed over the tangerine stubble which was rode his upper lip, masqueraded as sideburns, and peppered his chin. He winked and smiled—lips shining with coconut rum—and the tingle which raced through my core like a lightning bolt rocked me … visibly. Louie number one slapped him in the head and barked . . . What the fuck!? C’mon … roll the shit already! He was in a foul mood that night, and his raspy voice—like he’d smoked for seventeen of his nineteen years on the planet—lacked its usual trill of excitement and seemed even deeper … but added to the wise-beyond-his-years gangsta mystique. Back in the day, he would’ve rolled like Jesse James no doubt. Despite having that knowledge, I couldn’t say no to him. A’ight, a’ight, calm down, shit, Tim responded, mild indignation coloring his cheeks as he flinched from the attack. The light in the room came from the candles on the coffee table and the TV screen, where R. Kelly was trapped in that damn closet again. The torches out on the deck, which lent citronella to the breeze, powdered his cheek with amber glow. He glanced up at me for a nanosecond and went back to the weed. But in that brief time, even in the dimness, I could see him blush. Yo Danté, why is it always hot as a motherfucka up in here? Louie number two said, rolling off his pillow like he was dying, ultimately crashing into me. I could smell the Big Red he was chewing when he added … Can’t you put the AC on? Sweat trickled off his face, actually, both Louies were sweating heavily. I looked into his dark close-set eyes and my mind flashed to the other night when they’d arrived unexpectedly in the wee hours, high as the Death Star, claiming they were locked out and had nowhere to go. I put number two on the sofa. The next morning, he came out of the shower, steam trailing down the hall behind him, his hair clinging to his sharp features like a drowned rat. With my towel clutched about his waist with one hand, he tipped to my door and pushed it open more. Then stood there, watching me watching him … as number one snored naked beside me. Nah, I said, I like it hot. Yeah, Tim looked up, Hazel eyes glistening, I’m good too. Y’all niggas fuckin’ crazy, yo … it’s like Jamaica ass hot in this bitch. I started to tell him he was free to go somewhere cooler, but thought he might not be gracious enough to leave his boys, at least Tim, behind. He stood and slipped out of his ‘gi-normous’ white tee-shirt—identical to the one Louie number one was wearing like it was the uniform of their generation—partially revealing his pale physique to me for the second time. He rubbed his stomach and stared with that little smirk. As vibrant and as beautiful he was, for some reason, there was something just a little strange and unsettling about him. Louie number one was less of a mystery. We met because he sold drugs, which led to his being my supplier for that and other things which sometimes cost money. It was cool … we had nice little arrangement. Then the other Louie began to pop up with him and three of us would chill. That day in August, Tim showed up too, and I couldn’t stop tingling. Yo, yo, check out this chick in this video. Tim said, This bitch is no joke son.. Carmel complexioned, Rubenesque and very butch, an afro’d presence took over the screen, punching the lyrics through my speakers … and Tim was transfixed. I’d seen her before. The song was called ‘Good Luck’. The group was ‘Basement Jaxx’. The vocal powerhouse destined for greatness was . . . . Lisa Kekaula. Tim said, as if reading my mind. Louie number one nudged his namesake, casting a look of vague disdain on their red-headed compatriot. Then he sprang up and shoved Tim aside … Gimme this shit! Gonna be here ‘til muthafuckin’ New Years waitin’ for your ass to roll. He frontin’ kid. And ain’t like she’d give him none anyway, number two added, displaying the smirk which reminded me of an irritation in my craw with his name on it. The bitch pro’bly hit a pussy better than you, Timmy boy. But oh shit, that’s right, you don’t like pussy do you? Tingles. Tingles all down my damn spine. Tim sprang off the floor. Leaning over number two, fist poised to strike, he said, What I tell you, yo!? Then, in a flurry of movement, he punched Louie in the ribs and any other exposed body part he could catch. I watched the melee, with Louie trying to defend himself against the onslaught. He took the beating with amusement and veiled surprise, then squinted purposefully again, and fired one last pathetic round. You trippin’ kid. Tim sat down and slipped right back into our flow, ‘Basement Jaxx’ isn’t her group though, she’s really the lead singer of . . . . The Bellrays. Tim looked surprised that I knew the group, as if someone twice his age wasn’t supposed to up on the latest music. But I love music, and when I first heard that song, her voice, I felt a connection so strong it was damn near sexual. Damn near. But the growing vibe between me and this young red-headed & freckled Puerto Rican kat, who refused to wear the uniform of his generation, was the real deal. I noticed the way he sometimes watched my lips when I was talking. First, penetrating eye-contact, then lips and then back again. Almost as if he wanted me to see, as if he wanted me to know that it was all good … and was just waiting for me to say the word. The two Louies lit the blunt and were talking, sweaty and conspiratorial, watching us. Tim glanced over at them and stiffened a bit. When he turned his attentions back to me, his gaze no longer tweaked my nipple or stroked my cheek, but flitted about my face as if unsure of itself. I knew right there that he wanted me. But I also knew he was conscious of what his boys thought, worried that they were sitting over in the corner judging his every move. I could see the fear, dancing with the candlelight flickers in his eyes. I leaned closer and asked if he was alright. Wait … Louie number two said … I mean, smoke … don’t you wanna smoke? He handed over the blunt. The clock moved … and the room was cloudy as we all were lounged about, beyond the Death Star because the shit was bangin’, lost in our thoughts, when Tim’s voice in my ear shocked the hell out of me. Whispering directly down my ear canal, he said … Show me your bedroom. Naturally, I tingled, then popped up and took a second to scan the Louies. They appeared to sleeping, number one still with a burning cigarette in his hand … which I snubbed out. But by the slight smirk on number two’s face, I could tell he was hardly asleep. I couldn’t figure him out. Was he testing me or Tim? Either way, we were both about to fail it. I personally planned to fail the fuck out of it … repeatly if I could. C’mon … I whispered … this way.

(( TO BE CONTiNUED ))

Updated 06.31.05