December 4th

Ma always told me, from the moment that I could sit up by myself and probably even before that, that I was born special. Born to be different and that no matter what happened in life, good or bad or ugly, I was to never forget that one fact.
She told me that she had known it from the moment she had laid eyes on me. From the second she had held me in her arms. I was destined for greatness. As sure as night follows day. And for the longest time, I believed her…





“Yo Bitches,”
The tap-tap-tapping of the keyboard ceased as Samuel turned away from the laptop and looked over his shoulder. His expression perfectly mirrored his feelings about his appointed name.
“I thought I told you not to call me that.”
He was reed thin, boasted an afro that spiked out at least six inches in every direction and a bass that made most bitches, sorry ladies, shiver at the knees.
They called him Bitches (his boys, not the bi-*ahem* ladies) because he loved ‘dem bitches. And boy did the bitches love him.
“You still answered didn’t you?” that was Reckless. He had a tendency to break things. That and for getting on Bitches’ nerves. He took pride in it even. Thought it fun.
“Fuck you.” Bitches barked, he wasn’t in the mood to put up with Reckless’ shit. Not then. He had enough on his mind as it was.
“No fuck you, man.” Reckless shot back. “Where…are...the bitches?”
“They’ll be here.” Bitches muttered through gritted teeth though he was wondering the same damn thing.
“Yeah, that’s what you said an hour ago.” Spat Blackberry, not looking up from his, yes you guessed it, blackberry.
“Why don’t you guys leave the poor guy alone?” Carter interjected, coming to Bitches’ rescue. “It’s not his fault they’re not yet here.”
Carter was stretched out on the couch, lightly wagging his feet to Jay-Z’s “Reasonable Doubt”
“Thank you Carter.”
“You’re very welcome Samuel.” Carter answered, stretching out an arm and tapping some ash into the small tray on the coffee table. “You shouldn’t let these guys push you around. If the girls come, they come. And if they don’t…well then they don’t. It’s really not that big a deal.”
Carter uncrossed and re-crossed his legs, taking a hit of that high end variety Ntinda-Kisaasi reefer.
Through, he held it out to Blackberry who was closest to him but who briskly waved it off saying that it would mess up his concentration. He was writing the Great African Novel, you see- on his blackberry.
Shrugging, Carter took another hit then passed it to Reckless who took it gladly.
It was December 4th, Carter’s birthday and the boys, wanting to do something different had all agreed to hire Carter a couple of strippers. Bitches, claiming that he had all the right connects, had set it up for nine. It was now coming to eleven and the boys were clearly getting agitated.
“I told you Bitches would fuck it up.” Reckless exhaled, his voice a mild croak, just managing to avoid a coughing fit.
“I didn’t fuck it up,” Bitches blurted out defensively.
“Then where are they?” Blackberry asked. They were ganging up on him like they always did. And that annoyed the hell out of him.
As if in answer to Blackberry’s question, bitches’ phone, resting next to the laptop suddenly came to life.
“That’s them.” Bitches mouthed, holding up his phone.
He took the call and after a few moments of “Uh-huh’s” and “Okay’s” he hung up, walked out of the room, into the kitchen and out the back door.
Reckless, Blackberry and Carter all exchanged bewildered glances. What the hell was Bitches up to?
After what couldn’t have been more than 45 seconds, Bitches walked back into the room with two pairs of high-heels in toe.
“Gentlemen,” Bitches announced, full with arm gestures, he was obviously relieved that the paid entertainment had finally arrived, “Nicolette and Sabrina. Ladies, Blackberry, Reckless and the birthday boy.”
Reckless scrunched his face into an expression of obvious skepticism. They sure didn’t look like strippers. Sure they were hot in an “I met this girl in church” kind of way but t-shirt and jeans didn’t exactly scream sex siren.
“Hey guys, sorry we’re late.” Said the one who was supposed to be Nicolette, “Sabrina had a surprise DOD meeting.”
“DOD?” Reckless asked.
“Daughters Of Destiny.” Blackberry said finally looking up from his beloved phone. “Watoto church. Don’t ask me how I know something like that. I just do.”
Sabrina lightly blushed.
“Um, is there somewhere where we can change? Obviously we’re not going to do this dressed the way we are.” Still Nicolette, she seemed to be their spokeswoman.
“Yeah,” Carter said, “Bitches show them where.”
Both girls turned to look at Bitches.
“Bitches?” Sabrina asked. “They call you bitches?”
“Yeah, I don’t like it any more than you do, trust me.”
“Are you kidding me?” Sabrina said, “I think its friggin’ awesome. Blackberry, Reckless and Bitches? You guys are crazy.”
“Yeah, I guess we are.” Bitches said indulgently and showed the girls to one of the bedrooms.
He walked back out a couple of moments later, a CD in hand.
“What’s that?” Carter asked.
“Their music,” Bitches answered, “I wonder what’s on it.”
“Stripper music, obviously.” Reckless at it again.
“By the way,” Reckless continued, “How legit are they?”
“What do you mean?” Bitches asked not quite getting the question.
“I mean, do they fuck?”
Reckless put special emphasis on the last word, almost whispering it in reverence.
Bitches’ phone picked the perfect time to ring and he quickly answered it to avoid answering Reckless’ question.
He hung up a moment later.
“Showtime.” He said, stuck the CD into the laptop and pressed play.
Moments later a juggernaut of a hip hop beat came typhooning through the speakers, the door to the bedroom opened and the girls, completely transformed, strut into the room.
It didn’t take long for the guys to admit that the girls were worth every single shilling they were going to pay them. All 300,000 of them.
“Best…birthday…ever.” Carter thought as Nicolette dipped impossibly low and seductively crawled into his lap.
“So what do they call you when it’s not your birthday?” Nicolette asked as she ground against him. She had already dropped her panties and carter swore he could feel her wetness through his jeans.
“God,” Carter answered trying his best to sound unfazed. “But you’re pretty good at what you do so I’m going to let you call me Shawn.”
Nicolette laughed.
“Thanks…Shawn. And just for that I’m going to give you a little than your money’s worth. Happy Birthday.”
And leaning over, Nicolette (which obviously wasn’t her real name as Shawn would later find out) gave him a kiss.