“Owww! What the?—”
“Say it and watch I slap ya again.”
“Ma, what I do?” He held his head while perching the blunt between his lips.
“Out here smokin’ ’round my Goddamn grandbaby! Dat’s what!” Mama snatched the weed from Tulen and tossed it over the side of the railing.
When it landed somewhere in the bushes, Tulen cracked a smile. “Aite, when you set it on fire, I ain’t payin’ fo’ no new landscapin’.”
“Boy, shut up! It rained last night, so the soil and plants are wet. Stop smokin’ in front of him. He’s watchin’ errthang y’all do.” Our mama then looked up at Shit-talker, who was taking a sip from his beer. “As a matter of fact, come on in until it’s time for me to take y’all to the airport, baby.”
She held her hand out, gesturing Tulsaire to come inside. As soon as he was within arm’s reach, she grabbed him to her chest and kissed all over his face before the door slammed shut. Tulsaire was getting a version of our mama that none of us had ever gotten. He was getting the healed her, and she was more loving, caring, mentally sane now that life had turned around financially and she had more security. Tulsaire also had his brother’s mama as a grandmother figure, and his stepfather’s mama, Dana, as one too. My siblings and I had never had grandparents. Our mama’s mama had died long before any of us remembered, and since I hadn’t known my daddy, that side of the family was nonexistent until Shio showed up. According to him, though, I’d lucked up not meeting them niggas.
Tulen pulled another blunt from his pocket and grinned. “Shit-talker?”
“Wazzup, niccah?” He was staggering so much that he had taken a seat at the end of the porch.
“You always talkin’ ’bout dese bitches and shit, but I thought you was married at one point? If you fuckin’ hoes while yo’ wife is barely in the ground, I know you was a dawg when she was alive. You probably broke dat poor lady’s heart.”
“I heard she was fine too. And she drove dat clean-ass Cadillac. It was long as a muthafucka, but it was clean,” Tuden cosigned.
These niggas didn’t have no fucking couth. I still had three hours before Tulsaire and I had to be at the airport, and since I knew my mama wanted more time with her grandchild like she hadn’t had that for the past two days, kicking it with these niggaswas the move. I was going to be on the fucking plane smelling like outside like a motherfucker, but I wasn’t taking my ass back to the mall for more clothes.
Shit-talker slammed his can on the concrete next to him. “Yeah, I fuck dese bitches. I mean, why da fuck not? But ’bout my wife?” He lifted the can and held out his index finger, pointing it at Tulen. He seemed to be everyone’s target today. But shit, that was every day. “’Bout my wife, niccah! I respected heralways.”
“How long was y’all married?” I leaned in, resting my elbows on my knees, somewhat intrigued.
“Thurty-six years, lil’ nigga. We married when I was twenty, and she died four years ago.”
“Damn, dat’s three decades of the same pussy!” Tuden’s stupid ass whistled.
“Dat’s nearly four decades of the BEST pussy. Dey don’t make pussy like Emora Dean’s no more. See, y’all got dat stepped on pussy. The women dese days do too much of dat hookah and Julio shit. All dat hot wings and hibachi bullshit!” He waved his hands dismissively. “Dat shit got da pussy feelin’ different and damn sho’ smellin’ different!” His top lip curled over his nose.
Tulen sucked his teeth. “Nah… Dat’s cuz you be fuckin’ dem old hoes down at da café!”
“Nigga, I done had some mid thurty-year-old pussy. Shit was just as worse.”
“But you nutted doe…” Tuden egged him on.
“Damn right I did, Den! It’s pussy, ain’t it? Give a nigga a hole ina wall, a nigga gon’ stick his dick in and nut as long as it got a skirt on!”
I balled over laughing as Tuden cheesed. “Unc, I’ma have to introduce you to some bad bitches. I guarantee ya… You ain’t fuckin’ da right ones. I’ll bring you sum’n so bad dat ole AmberDean gon’ be rollin’ over in her grave. Stiff-ass wig gon’ wound up stranglin’ her from turnin’ so hard!”
“Y’all stupid as hell.” I cackled some more at these fools. Between my brothers here and my new peoples in Jagoda Bay, all I did was laugh at stupid niggas all day.
“It’s Emora, niccah! And I don’ seent da bitches y’all fuck with. Unc can’t afford dem types. I’ll take a food stamp recipient dat’s happy with a few hundred for a wig, a blunt, and a bottle.”
“I thought chu said the lowest you had fucked with is mid-thirties?” I asked.
“And you think dem broads don’t be havin’ stamps? I got some in their forties dat swipe dat EBT like it’s a black card. But on the real, keep yo’ type away from me. I ain’t buying no Coach bags.”
“While you tryna be funny, Coach done got high as fuck, Shit-talker,” I replied and sat back in the metal chair.
“And how da fuck you know, bruh?”
Everyone was eyeing me, waiting to answer Tuden’s question.
“Cuz I got a niece dat had me in the mall a few weeks ago, coppin’ her some shit.”
