RIPPED & READY (PART 57)

RIPPED & READY (PART LXVII) 

When we walked through the doors of Claim Jumper's, there were several patrons already waiting to be seated.  There was a Mexican family, a Middle Eastern family (Todd cringed a little), and a sistah-girl foursome (uh huh, black women).  They stopped mid-giggles and their eyes focused on D'Andre and Todd.  As they started whispering and pointing, and high-fiving each other, I just knew they were talking about my boys. 

D'Andre was dressed in his usual nylon, warm-up suit attire (this one was an emerald green color -- one of my favorite color's on him).  Todd was dressed in some tight fitting black jeans and an orange polo shirt (uh, huh, against his chocolate skin it literally jumped out at you).  D and Todd were two tall, lean, sexy ass motherfuckas and you know what, they were with me and not them. 

I knew the attention they were getting didn't sway Todd the least bit; however, D was basking in it.  When he winked at them, I just knew that one or more of them would faint.  Well, not really, but you get my drift. 

"Oh, girl, they are fine," the mocha-colored, full figured one said. 

"Uh, hmm," the high-yellow, thick boned one said. 

It tickled the hell out of me.  Good Lord, they didn't have any shame in their admiration of my two escorts.  In my mind I was thinking, yea, bee-atches, they are gorgeous aren't they.  As teenagers they were stunners, but now as grown men, they gave good face, ass, and physique.  D'Andre's posturing and posing didn't bother me at all, because he had been doing it for as long as I could remember. 

Todd wasn't the least bit moved by the attention they were attracting.  He looked over at D, shook his head and said, "Dude, you ain't gonna ever change, are you?" he asked him. 

"What I do, bro?" he said, trying to act all innocent. 

"Nigga, you know what the hell I'm talking about.  Every time a female smiles at you, you go into that player mode," Todd told him, chuckling. 

"Aww, naw, it ain't even like that, Todd," he said.

"D'Andre, who in the hell are you trying to fool, yourself?" I asked him, brushing the side of my body against his, playfully. 

He snickered, never taking his flirtatious eyes of the foursome.

It looked as if one of them were going to start making her way over towards us, but the young, cute, Filipino hostess, with menus under her arms, asked us to follow her. 

Thank God!

Once we were seated, we started shooting the breeze, discussing mischevious capers of the past, and Collin's current situation.  It was at this time that I took the opportunity to bring up Darrius' comment about Tootchie's baby. 

"D'Andre, did you get a chance to hear him when he said that?" I asked, looking over at him. 

"No, that must've happened before I got into the apartment," he said. 

"Oh, well, I'm not sure if it's true or not and, Tootchie was just about to tell me something when you came and told us that the doctor had come into the room," I told him.

"Is that so," he said, looking at the menu, not really paying attention.

"Nigga, can't you put that "got-dayum" menu down for a minute, damn! Put one in front of your face and you zone out," I said, chuckling. 

"What?" he said, obliviously to my comment. 

I rest my case.

"D, man, I'm talking to your ass, nigga," I said, raising my voice a little.

Todd leaned over and popped him upside the head.

"Ouch! Nigga, what the fuck did you do that for?" he asked, rubbing his head. 

"Marco is talking to you," Todd told him.

"Oh, what did you say, bro?" He asked, agitated.

D was one fine man, but he could really annoy you at times -- especially when he turned on that jock-mentality.

I had finally managed to get his attention when my heart sunk.  No the waitress was not going to sit "Waiting To Exhale" in the booth across from us. 

Fuck!

Now, this shifted D'Andre's attention totally. 

The mocha-colored, full figured sistah found her way over to our table and said, "Uh, excuse me, I hope I'm not being too forward, but I have to know what your name is, handsome," she said, addressing D'Andre.

"Oh, no, beautiful, my name is D'Andre, and what is yours?" he asked. 

This little show was ticking me the hell off.  We were here to catch up with Todd, not browse and entertain skank cafe.  After about three minutes (three long minutes), I had had enough.

"D'Andre! Nigga, let Monifah (yea like the singer), find her way back to her table, so you can re-focus on this motherfucker," I told him.

Damn, leave it to him to get the dandruf up and flaking. 

The young lady cut her eyes at me and took the hint.  "Well, hopefully we can exchange numbers before you leave, Mr. D'Andre," she said, ignoring Todd and I. 

"Oh, for sho, lovely lady," he said in that cocky-ass tone he was notorious for. 

By this time I really wanted to limit my conversation with him.  He had just saved my life so I didn't want to go off on him, and right when I had managed to regain my composure, he killed with...

"Marco, you can be such a faggot at times," he said.

Todd leaned his menu forward, and looked out over it in shock. 

I started silently counting...

One

Two

Three

Four...

The scales had just been tipped to 51/50.  This motherfucker has been speaking the language of homophobic a bit too well lately and I was about to tip this fucking table over onto his ass and start to pummeling him with some fucking faggot punches.  

The rage inside of me had been reignited...fuck counting it was time to start kicking some motherfucking ass....