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“Alright. Takari, I’m going to have Brooklyn give you my number. We need to hang out,” she said and gave us both a quick hug before she walked off.
“You ain’t gotta call her ass for shit,” I quickly spoke as we walked down the stairs of the church and headed to the parking lot.
She laughed at what I said and then looked at me, cocking he
r head to the side.
“Why can’t I call her? Y’all have two kids together, so I’m pretty sure she knows you better than anybody. I have to make sure that this is the real Za’Kai that you’ve been showing me and not just an act. I have a few questions that I’m sure she can answer for me,” she said, and all I could do was shake my head.
“Why it matter to you if this the real Za’Kai or not? Once you find out that piece of information, then what? If I’m this good guy that I’ve been showing you for months now, where do we go from there? Because the last time I checked, you were married,” I let her know.
She nodded, and I could tell that she was thinking about it for a few seconds.
“Like you said, we’re just friends,” she responded, and now it was my turn to laugh.
“Not even trying to sound cocky or no shit like that, but look at me, shorty. Do I look like the type of nigga that you would just be friends with? If my shorty was out parading a nigga around who looked half of what I look like, it would be a problem. Same shit with you. You fine, and I’m pretty sure you know that. You not the type of woman that I’ll call my friend. You the type of woman where I’d be like, that’s my wife or some shit like that. We can’t be friends, and you know that,” I let her know.
Only reason why I referred to her as my friend to Breshay is that it was the only term that I could think of at the time. Fuck was I supposed to say?
“We can be friends. We have a lot of things in common,” she stubbornly said.
“Then what happens when you want to fuck me? I’m curious to know the answer to that question,” I said.
“Then we fuck! Za’Kai, we’re grown!” she said and rolled her eyes.
I didn’t think shorty was getting my point. I should have been in my car right now on my way to my grandma’s crib to get some of that food that she had been throwing down on since late last night, yet, here I was, having a little dispute with another man’s fine ass wife.
Takari wasn’t standing that far away from me, so I pulled her into me by her waist, keeping my hands there and staring down at her. She was beautiful this afternoon. I’d seen her dressed three different ways, and that was in her casual clothes, her lounge clothes, and that sexy ass body suit that she wore a few weeks back when we were at the club. I’d never seen her dress it up like this, though. She was in a black dress that fit her body a little snug, but it was appropriate since it came to her knees. A pair of black and gold YSL heels were on her feet, and she wore her long hair out, parted down the middle. Not even on no homo shit, but I could tell that she was wearing a little bit of make-up, which enhanced her beauty just a little bit more.
“Shorty, you fuck me once, you going to want to fuck me twice, then a third time, and so on. I don’t have the type of dick that’s only fuckable for that one time. I put this shit inside you, and you’re liable to get down on your knees and ask me to marry you! My shit will have you telling me that you want to have my kids, and then what? You married, shorty, and I’m a stingy ass nigga. I got to know that a woman belongs to me without any loose ends along the way.
“I’m a single man who is co-parenting with my baby mama, so I have no loose ends, but you do. If your pussy is as good as your looks, I’m liable to kill your husband because I’m not going to share shit with that man. You don’t want that nigga’s blood on your hands, so be careful what you asking for. I’m hungry, though. Do you have to get back home to your kids, or you have some free time on your hands and can ride with me over to my grandma’s crib? That’s where the repast is, and a few people supposed to slide through. Don’t worry, it won’t be to the point that it’s overwhelming or no shit like that,” I let her know, and she nodded.
See how quickly I was able to just flip the script and drop the conversation? I wasn’t about to be standing out there going back and forth with Takari about shit because in the end, all fingers will point back to me and say that no matter how you put it, I’m right. Fucking around with her right now wasn’t good for either of us because my black ass would end up in jail. She assured me that she would head over with me to my grandmother’s crib, and I helped her inside her car then I walked over to my whip and led the way.
On some real shit, I was happy that Takari showed face at the funeral today. I’d been in a funk ever since I found out about my ole boy passing, but when she came around, she had the ability to slightly take me out of that funk. I was pretty sure that this was what my ole boy would want, though. I’d been smoking so much weed and tossing so many shots back to back just to be able to cope, and I knew that wasn’t the way he would want me to behave.
We finally pulled up to the projects, and luckily, we were able to find parking spots right next to each other. I waited for her to get out of the car, and like a man who was a professional body guard for a living, I allowed her to walk ahead of me while I took in everything around her just to make sure she was safe. I kept talking that “no friends” bullshit, yet, here I was, effortlessly doing shit like I was her nigga. Standing outside the door of my grandmother’s house, I could already hear the loud talking that was going on inside. The majority of my grandmother’s friends were inside the house along with a few other people who I knew of from around the way.
“Just the woman I wanted to see. I was hoping that my grandson was going to bring you by,” my grandma said when she walked into the living room where Takari and I were standing.
She’d already changed out of the dress that she’d worn to the funeral, and now she was in her lounge clothes with an apron wrapped around her body. When she saw Takari, it was as if I didn’t even exist because she quickly grabbed Takari’s hand and took her away from me as she walked with her into the kitchen. I already knew that she was going to pick her brain about any and everything, and all I could do was laugh while shaking my head.
“Now, that’s the type of woman that you bring home, youngin’,” I heard a very familiar voice call out from behind me.
I laughed because I already knew who that voice belonged to without having to turn around and see. It was my father’s best friend, Buck. Buck was like an uncle to me, and we had kept in touch over the years, even with him moving to Alabama when I was about ten years old or so. Buck wasn’t a hustler like my father, but that didn’t stop the two of them from being so close to the point that they were like brothers.
“Chill out, old man. It’s not even like that,” I let him know, as I walked closer to him so the two of us could give each other a brotherly hug.
“Step outside with me for a few minutes and tell me what it’s like,” he said.
I knew it was going to be more to it than him wanting to know about Takari, so I quickly agreed and led the way outside. There were two crates outside my grandmother’s door, and we both took a seat. I watched Buck as he pulled out a pack of Backwoods from the dress pants that he was wearing along with a little baggie of weed. I laughed to myself because even in his fifties, this man still smoked just as much weed as he did when I was a little boy. I didn’t know what his diet consisted of, but I prayed that I looked half as good as he did when I was his age. His ass didn’t have any wrinkles on his face, he wasn’t walking like he was in any type of pain, and he still looked like he could get in the middle of the road and race up and down the street with me like he used to do when I was a little boy.
Although Buck and I talked here and there over the years, it was nice to see him in the flesh. Out of all the so-called friends that my ole boy supposedly had when he was a free man, Buck was the only one who would come and visit him at least twice a year, and just like me, he made sure that his books were always filled.
“Ain’t that your nigga right there?” Buck asked, directing me to what he was talking about with his head.
I looked down the stairwell, where I had the perfect view of everyone outside just hanging out, and I realized that he was pointing toward Marco. All I could do was shake my head. I had assumed that the nigga didn’t come to the funeral because he was busy or some shit like that. From the looks of things, the nigga had more than enough time on his hands as he stood posted up with his back against the wall, more than likely waiting for a fiend to walk up so he could serve them.
