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informative, and entertaining. Check back continuously for updates. In the meantime,
feel free to browse around and even purchase your very own copy of APT 202!
APT 202 is a tour-de-force about Antonio and Keisha who
reside in SE DC and the many twists and turns that capture
their lives over a summer.
It is, essentially, an urban work of fiction whereby CHOICES &
CONSEQUENCES take center stage.
These are the lives of a young breed who are searching for their
own ideals about what it is to be adult and living lives that toe
the line- or in cases- cross them! This is APT 202~ welcome!
reside in SE DC and the many twists and turns that capture
their lives over a summer.
It is, essentially, an urban work of fiction whereby CHOICES &
CONSEQUENCES take center stage.
These are the lives of a young breed who are searching for their
own ideals about what it is to be adult and living lives that toe
the line- or in cases- cross them! This is APT 202~ welcome!
APT 202- an excerpt
“Don’t put your muthafuckin’ finger in my face, Antonio.”
“Or what, Keisha? What the fuck you gon’ do?”
“Nigga, you don’t scare me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Antonio said with his finger still in her face.
“You gon’ get yours nigga.”
“Bitch, you talkin’ stupid.”
“Fuck you! I got yo’ bitch, too. You gon’ end up back at yo’ mama house where I found
yo’ black ass.”
“Who you think pay the rent?” Antonio asked. “Or did you forget?”
“But whose name is on the lease?” Keisha asked walking out of the cluttered room.
Antonio watched her ass in the $300 Rock & Republic jeans he had bought her two
days earlier. He moved the toothpick from the left side of his mouth to the right as
Keisha disappeared into another room of the apartment they shared in southeast D.C.
“And don’t walk away from me while I’m talking,” he barked at her back.
Antonio grabbed the television remote and flipped the channel to his favorite show,
Jeopardy! The 40 ounce bottle of 211 beside the black leather sofa was now warm
as he sucked the piss-colored drink down in one gulp. Jeopardy! was about the only
show he would watch besides The Wire, now in his overfull DVD collection.
“Who is Shakespeare,” he said aloud before the contestants could answer the
question ‘who wrote Romeo and Juliet?’
Antonio grabbed a dime bag from under the seat cushion and pulled a Dutch from his
Crown Holder shirt pocket. He was rolling the grape blunt when Keisha and
Calandra walked in the room.
“That’s exactly what’s wrong with your stupid ass- smoking and drinking all the damn
time,” Keisha said, looking at her hair in the black-framed mirror on the wall.
“Shut up bitch. I know you see Jeopardy! on. Ain’t nobody tryna hear that shit.”
“Wassup Antonio?” Calandra said in that country North Carolina accent D.C. niggas
loved.
“Oh, you speaking today wit yo’ saddity ass?”
“I always speak.”
“Yeah, when you tryna pull off my fuckin’ blunt. Is my nigga Rell still hitting that pussy?”
“Why the fuck you in my business?”
“Because I want you to tell the nigga to holla at me when you see him again. I been
calling his cell and shit but it’s off or something.”
“Well, I ain’t seen Rell since last week and…”
“Bitch, I ain’t asked you all that… Damn! You gon blow my high before I even get
there.”
Keisha and Calandra stood in the middle of the room and continued gossiping and
talking about going shopping for shoes to wear to the club.
“You two got to get the fuck outta here with that shit. Jeopardy! back on from
commercial.”
“Call me when you get that blunt rolled,” Calandra said, following Keisha out the
sliding door onto the balcony.
“Girl, I thought you stopped fucking with Rell sorry ass?” Keisha asked as they stood
outside.
“Keisha,” Calandra looked her dead in her face. “Rell got some good dick.”
“Bitch, you silly.”
“I’m not lying on that nigga. He trifling as hell and I know he's fucking other chicks but
that nigga lay pipe.”
“Ain’t no dick that good,” Keisha said.
“Rell, ain’t fucked you,” Calandra said matter-of-factly.
“Don’t put your muthafuckin’ finger in my face, Antonio.”
“Or what, Keisha? What the fuck you gon’ do?”
“Nigga, you don’t scare me.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Antonio said with his finger still in her face.
“You gon’ get yours nigga.”
“Bitch, you talkin’ stupid.”
“Fuck you! I got yo’ bitch, too. You gon’ end up back at yo’ mama house where I found
yo’ black ass.”
“Who you think pay the rent?” Antonio asked. “Or did you forget?”
“But whose name is on the lease?” Keisha asked walking out of the cluttered room.
Antonio watched her ass in the $300 Rock & Republic jeans he had bought her two
days earlier. He moved the toothpick from the left side of his mouth to the right as
Keisha disappeared into another room of the apartment they shared in southeast D.C.
“And don’t walk away from me while I’m talking,” he barked at her back.
Antonio grabbed the television remote and flipped the channel to his favorite show,
Jeopardy! The 40 ounce bottle of 211 beside the black leather sofa was now warm
as he sucked the piss-colored drink down in one gulp. Jeopardy! was about the only
show he would watch besides The Wire, now in his overfull DVD collection.
“Who is Shakespeare,” he said aloud before the contestants could answer the
question ‘who wrote Romeo and Juliet?’
Antonio grabbed a dime bag from under the seat cushion and pulled a Dutch from his
Crown Holder shirt pocket. He was rolling the grape blunt when Keisha and
Calandra walked in the room.
“That’s exactly what’s wrong with your stupid ass- smoking and drinking all the damn
time,” Keisha said, looking at her hair in the black-framed mirror on the wall.
“Shut up bitch. I know you see Jeopardy! on. Ain’t nobody tryna hear that shit.”
“Wassup Antonio?” Calandra said in that country North Carolina accent D.C. niggas
loved.
“Oh, you speaking today wit yo’ saddity ass?”
“I always speak.”
“Yeah, when you tryna pull off my fuckin’ blunt. Is my nigga Rell still hitting that pussy?”
“Why the fuck you in my business?”
“Because I want you to tell the nigga to holla at me when you see him again. I been
calling his cell and shit but it’s off or something.”
“Well, I ain’t seen Rell since last week and…”
“Bitch, I ain’t asked you all that… Damn! You gon blow my high before I even get
there.”
Keisha and Calandra stood in the middle of the room and continued gossiping and
talking about going shopping for shoes to wear to the club.
“You two got to get the fuck outta here with that shit. Jeopardy! back on from
commercial.”
“Call me when you get that blunt rolled,” Calandra said, following Keisha out the
sliding door onto the balcony.
“Girl, I thought you stopped fucking with Rell sorry ass?” Keisha asked as they stood
outside.
“Keisha,” Calandra looked her dead in her face. “Rell got some good dick.”
“Bitch, you silly.”
“I’m not lying on that nigga. He trifling as hell and I know he's fucking other chicks but
that nigga lay pipe.”
“Ain’t no dick that good,” Keisha said.
“Rell, ain’t fucked you,” Calandra said matter-of-factly.
TASTEMAKER
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