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  • Writer's picturethejsingraham

"Trifling" - a JG Short

Ricardo Tynes was six feet of raw energy, that stepped into Amina Jacobs' gallery by chance one afternoon. His timing couldn't be worse.


"Where you at?"

Amina rolled her eyes at this question as she roared through a yellow light on New York Avenue.

"In the car, what does it sound like?" She looked at the display with a scrunched up brow. "The fuck you think?" She whispered under her breath.

Nearing seventh street, a red light gave her the opportunity to glance in the rearview mirror. The twist out she had spent her weekend on came out amazing, all of her co-workers had told her as such...even those that couldn't find the right words to say it.

"But where are you headed though?"

"Oh my gawd! What do you want Hud?"

A horn blared from behind, letting her know that the green light was about to become a thing of the past if she didn't wake up and make her turn. But he tended to have that type of affect on her of late.

Hudson James was the right guy at the right time, for Amina Jacobs when they first ran into each other at a networking event last year. She was on the cusp of getting her life back on track after some negative instances had made themselves a little too comfortable. A failed entrepreneurial venture that drastically depleted her savings, chief among them.

Hudson worked in sales at a high-end boutique hotel in Georgetown. Held a bachelor's and master's degree from Howard and American University, respectively. And he happened to be everything her ex at that time was not.



Gainfully employed.

And bald.

The latter of which she thoroughly enjoyed after growing tired of sharing the mirror and hair care products with the last guy.

Things however took a turn around month four of their fling, when she invited him to a work mixer and he became oddly distant, only to later admit it triggered some commitment issues in him. Despite her best efforts, he could not fully move beyond the matter. And to both of their detriment, neither wanted to dead the situation even though the arguments and petty bickering seemed to increase.

Then she met the guy she was a few blocks away from taking home.

Two weeks ago, Amina was helping a photographer find a set of photos from an exhibit at the art gallery where she worked. As she headed back towards the front, she heard her co-worker Karen laughing, which she was positive she had never heard before in the five years that they had worked together.

Drawing closer, she saw the man's back first. Then his slightly bow legged stance, followed by the tatted script text that ran along the outside of his hand, around his wrist and up his forearm-- disappearing into the bottom of his cuffed shirt sleeve.

Sensing her presence, he turned around and smiled. Karen introduced the customer looking for framing options for a print he inquired about, but it fell on deaf ears.

An aftershock of energy originating between Amina's thighs moved through her in such an odd fashion that it confused her. Causing her brain to try and figure out where and how the earthquake responsible would hit if she felt its origin. Then the facial expression on the burnt caramel colored man changed.

The kind and friendly look on his face, morphed into a look of lust in a silo, that she had never seen or experienced before that day. The kind that made you uncomfortable, because you didn't want strangers to know how it made you feel.

Ricardo Tynes was six feet of raw energy.

From his eyes that were a relaxed and calming, rich, dark brown, that grew wild and alert when excited. To his voice, which was a raspy baritone that drizzled honey over whatever word ended a spoken thought. Even when he cursed.

Especially when he cursed, she thought. There was just something about hearing this man say fuck, that drove her wild. The tone mixed so mercilessly with a faint New York accent to conjure every thought of the worst kind.

In a two week span, Rico as his friends called him, and Amina had seen each other everyday save for weekends. With each occurrence pouring more kerosene on a spark that was begging to catch, and turn into a four-alarm blaze.

Amina crossed through a light and pulled over to the corner.

"So am I going to see you in a few or what?" Hudson's voice said aloud through the car's speakers.

Rico shook his head and grinned as he opened the door to her convertible Jetta and got in.

"Wasshannin' sweetheart?" He coolly slid in her direction, mainly for Hudson's ears. A violently mischievous twinkle in his eye.

The look of surprise she shot him, turned into a devilish grin of its own when she watched him lick his full lips in her direction and lean over the console. His right hand caressed her side, grazing the underside of her breast, before moving down to her waist. He let his thumb ease up the fabric on her blouse and hook both inside of her slacks and panties. Gliding across her flesh from hip to just above where her undoing lied.

Rico had kissed Amina before, even touched and placed his hands on her in ultra-flirty how would you handle me ways. But nothing close to this had been done in public. The entire scene had everyone of her nerves on end and she could tell from his expression that her nipples were putting on a show through the thin fabric..

He kissed her deep yet quiet enough to be masked by the sounds of traffic, as Hudson cursed in the background over the speaker.

"I told you about riding through that part of DC with your top down. I think you like the attention. That's why you do that dumb shit. You know what, I ain't even trying to see you now. Go fuck one of them bammas on the corner."

Rico sat back in the passenger seat and grinned. He pushed the mute button while motioning for her to pull away from the curb.

"Oops, I almost told your boyfriend that I love you."

Amina jabbed him in his side.

"Oops, I almost grabbed your hair last time I saw you."

He was fucking with her now. Echoing two lines from the Rico Love song Trifling, he had put her on to.

In the very short time they had known one another, they both had learned a lot about the other. Through almost unnatural complete honesty, they discovered a refreshing trust that only seemed to further fuel their physical attraction. The latter of which, neither hid.

Amina had never run across a man who communicated as freely and easily as Rico did. From his goals to his wants. His desires to how he felt about any and everything at any given moment.

In kind, Rico had never stumbled across a woman who seemed to possess a natural fire that rivaled his own in everything from her interests, to family to love. The conundrum however, finding such a woman that also seemed to be so fearful of fully opening up.

"Hello? Oh so you ghosting me now?"

Amina had completely forgotten that Rico put the phone on mute.

"Hudson, again, what do you want?"

"I'm trying to see if you are on your way out this way or not?"

"Are you saying you want to see me tonight?" She asked in an almost pleading tone.

"You tell me," he replied.

When Amina clicked the call off, Rico pressed his lips together and nodded his head approvingly.

"I don't want to talk about it." She said, looking at him out of her peripheral.

He laughed.

"I didn't say nothing 'Mina, calm your chocolate ass down."

"You're right, I'm sorry. What's in the bag?" She asked, pointing to the paper bag he had on the floor by his work bag.

"A gift." He pulled the bottle out. "It's a bottle of Basil Garden's Whiskey. I know you said your girl was trying to introduce you to the darker side of the spirits world."

She grinned before stealing a glance at him on their way to 395, headed towards Virginia.

"You remembered that?"

"Yeah, why not? That's not exactly an everyday thing you hear, so…"

They rode on in silence for the next ten minutes as she drove in the direction of the metro lot where he had parked his car.

Amina clearly had her mind wrapped around something and Rico had no intention of interrupting that. He knew her situation and she knew his, and even though he never pressed her for anything more, they had been close on numerous occasions to getting better acquainted in the most naked and perspiration covered ways imaginable.

She rested her hand on his thigh and moved it back and forth slowly.

"Tell me Rico, why that particular brand of whiskey?"

Without looking at her, "because the color looks like my skin. And I figured it would give you something to think about each time it slides down your throat."

She gripped his thigh and swerved out of the lane ever so slightly, before straightening the car back up.

"Damn, is that all?"

"Nah. I figured it would feel as smooth as it would for me to slide inside of you from behind. That way you could take me home, and have a taste whenever you uh, need it."

She let loose a harsh moan. The type of which he had made her aware of that she made on occasion.

"If I told you I was thinking about heading to the nearest hotel instead of to the metro lot, what would you say?"

"I'd say you sound like your boy. And won't just come out and say what you want."

"You really are not going to make this easy are you? Shit! Okay then." She laughed uncomfortably before clearing her throat. "I want you to fuck me Rico. Unless you don't real--..."

"Stop playing and get off at exit 4."

She glanced over at him again, trying to gauge his level of seriousness.

"What about Hudson?"

Rico, unbuckled his belt, unfastened his khakis and pulled down his zipper. Placing her hand inside his boxers.

"He can't come. Now you on the other hand..."

When she glanced in his direction again, she saw the look he gave her when they first met, put on the blinker and headed towards the exit.


"Trifling" - Rico Love (click for audio)

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