She was a lawyer for a living, I knew she had to lie on her feet plenty of times. Her thick hips rounded the corner first and she stood on the other side of the counter. Zoya put all his shit in the box and sat it on the stool.
Sigel’s pussy ass remained on the opposite side and stared at her. “How shit been with you?”
She shrugged, picking in her nails. “Busy with work… same stuff. How’s the kids?” I could tell she cared about his kids.
The question had less to do with how he had been doing and more to do with how his kids were. They were in a relationship, and she had gotten to know them. I felt like she should have said fuck his kids.
I’d spit on those little niggas if ever given the chance. My nephew was a kid, and that nigga didn’t give a fuck.
“They ask about you all the time… we miss you, Zoy.”
I snatched the oranges she had neatly stacked in some organization container and squeezed that shit so hard that the juice was sliding down my arms.
This bitch had one more time to focus on him and her, and I was kicking this door down and beaming this orange at the back of his head before I beat the shit out of him with the fridge.
“We both need to move on… there’s your things.” She kept it straight to the point. She knew her man was in here squeezing this orange like a stress ball.
Sigel looked around and then back at her. “You smell that?”
“What?” Zoya looked at him, confused.
“Oranges…it smells like mad oranges.” He continued to sniff the air.
“New scent diffuser.” She thought quick on her feet.
He was satisfied with her answer, as she continued to stare at him. Despite her being disgusted with him, I could hear the nervousness in her voice at first, then she quickly fixed it. After telling him that they both needed to move on, I could hear the confidence reenter her voice. She purposely moved closer to the pantry because I was in striking distance.
I wanted to kill this nigga more than anything. There was always something that prevented that. He had more luck than a fucking fat ass Buddha, because each time it was time for him to meet his maker, the nigga went ghost.
Not even his own people knew where the fuck he was. It all made sense why he dipped in and out. The nigga was playing for the other team, and his own people didn’t know they were gonna be doing time behind him.
Khaos never fucked with that nigga, even when he moved into big homie status. He said it was something about him that he couldn’t rock with. I felt like the nigga was too soft. Who was his peoples?
What block he came up on?
He just appeared in the middle of the hood, and those desperate ass niggas welcomed him without doing their homework. Didn’t even know where the fuck he was from but was calling him bro and making him their kid’s Godfather.
Fucktards.
“Why you moved in the first place?”
Zoya rested against the back counter with her arms folded. “Needed something new.”
“We could have had new. You didn’t want to move in with me… forgot?”
She snorted. “There’s a lot of things we should have never done… like trying to have a kid together or move in.”
His ass looked hurt when those words left her mouth. That nigga was trying to get my baby pregnant. I should have busted his ass like Rodney should have done Jody’s ass.
“You were the one that wanted to have a baby… fuck you acting like I was the one that wanted that? I got enough fucking kids.”
“Yeah, I know.”
It looked like she was disassociating while he was speaking to her. She was looking off to the side, and her responses were on auto pilot. Like her brain already knew what to say while she was zoned out.
“Because you can’t get pregnant, you wanted to break up… how the fuck is that my fault.”
“Not the reason.”
