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Chapter 9: Tracy
Word around town was that Charlie had found out that her grimy ass baby daddy wasn’t shit after all. I was a nosey nigga, so seeing shit on social media about Charlie beating another bitch up in the nail salon had me wanting to investigate and find out more shit. The perfect way to get at a woman is when she’s feeling vulnerable because she’s suffering from a broken heart. When I spotted Charlie the other day at the beach, I just knew that she would be so pissed off with that nigga, Quan, that she would be willing to at least hold a decent conversation with my ass, but boy was I wrong.
I wanted that bitch in the worst way, I wasn’t even going to lie. Mainly, I wanted her because she was a bad bitch, and the other reason is that I wanted her to help me set up her bitch ass baby daddy and rob his ass. Originally, the plan was to go through Chantel, but honestly, I didn’t trust that bitch. That hoe was going around trying to pin babies on niggas, so I didn’t know if I really wanted her a part of my team yet. Her greed for money mixed with mine would probably result in the two of us killing each other, and that was a chance I wasn’t willing to take.
I figured it would be easy to get with Charlie now, but the way she damn near ignored my ass led me to believe that she was still very much in love with that nigga. I had all type of plans running through my mind, and I just didn’t know what I wanted to do anymore. I wanted this rapping shit in the beginning because a nigga was trying to get this money. But now, I’m starting to see the bigger picture. Why not just set this nigga up and take him for everything he has? That way, I won’t have to worry about all these fuckin’ problems that these rappers go through nowadays. If that plan doesn’t work out, I’ll kidnap that pretty daughter of theirs and make that nigga pay up if he ever wants to see the little bitch again.
Call me a heartless nigga if you want to, but this is the hand that I was dealt when that nigga acted like he was too good to put me on the money team with him. I wasn’t asking the nigga for a fuckin’ handout or no shit like that, all I wanted from his ass was for him to listen to my CD, and we would be able to go from there. I probably would have been able to respect the nigga a little bit more if he would’ve at least taken the CD from me and then possibly take my number down and if he wasn’t feeling my shit, then he could have given a nigga some constructive criticism.
I can tell that he was the type of nigga who wasn’t going to just hand someone over some shit. In his eyes, he felt like since he had to bust his ass to get to where he is now, then it should be like that for every other aspiring rapper. Looking at myself, in the next five years, I can see myself either dead or in jail if I didn’t get my life together. I kind of felt like it was too late for change because once I made my mind up about something, then that’s what I planned to do. Right now, the plan was to set that nigga up and eat fuckin’ steaks and lobsters off his money that I planned on taking from his bitch ass, and then I was going to fuck his bitch and his jit was going to be calling me daddy.
Quay
“We about to go to the doctor’s office right now and see what the fuck is going on with you. And I swear to God, if you’re pregnant, you’re deading that shit today,” I yelled at her as I walked into the bathroom and saw that she had a positive pregnancy test lying on the bathroom counter.
I couldn’t believe the shit that I was going through right now, and for the first time in a very long time, a nigga was stressing. Since I stopped fuckin’ with Monae, I’ve been pretty much doing some reckless shit. You know, the usual, partying, drinking, smoking, and fuckin’ bad bitches damn near every day of the week. See, the thing is, I was strapping up with these bitches, but I fucked around and ran up in a chick by the name of Paris. See, the thing about Paris, is that Paris wasn’t just some bitch that I started fuckin’. In fact, Paris was a female that I used to mess around with back in the day, but all of that stopped when she moved to Atlanta.
I happened to run into her a couple weeks ago at K.O.D, and she and I have been fuckin’ like rabbits ever since. Paris and I were never necessarily in a relationship back then, more like friends with benefits. We would talk on the phone and shit, fuck, go on dates, but we never really put a title on what we had going on. I had some type of feelings for her, but I didn’t love her. In fact, Monae was the only female I ever loved, besides my mother.
I know society probably gets tired of hearing the same old sad story about a boy growing up, only having his mother there to raise him, but that’s just the hand that I was dealt in life. So, with that being said, I grew up in a household, only having the luxury of being raised by my mother and fuckin’ dreams. If a nigga didn’t have his dreams, he didn’t have shit. The only positive force that I had growing up in a rat infested apartment, located in the slums of Opa-locka, was the fact that I was positive that that shit wouldn’t be my future. So as a boy, Quan and I dreamed, and we dreamed big. We knew one day that he would be the hottest rapper to ever step out of Miami, and I would be there to manage him.
The point I’m trying to make here is that my mother raised me and she did it all by herself. Of course, I was told at an early age that my daddy wasn’t shit and that I better not grow up to be anything like his coward ass when I became a man. Which is why I was so set on about Monae coming out to everybody and letting them know that we were together.
I loved Monae with everything that beats in me, and I was just tired of being a fuckin’ secret. My mother taught me as a child the correct way to treat a woman, which wasn’t hard because the only thing she had to instill in me was to treat women the way I wanted a man to treat her. Which is why I worshiped the ground that Monae walked on. I let that little girl get away with murder, and the fact that I had to walk away from that was causing me to act out of character. Fuckin’ different bitches every day of the week was some shit that Quan’s ass be on, that shit wasn’t up my alley. But I swear heartbreak will make you do some crazy things. Monae has been blowing my phone up nonstop since the day I walked out on her, but I still wasn’t quite ready to fuck with her ass on that level.
“What you mean I have to dead the shit, Quay? If I’m pregnant with your baby, how can you ask me to get an abortion?” Paris asked, looking at me with a sad look on her beautiful face.
Paris was a beautiful girl, but let’s be clear here, she wasn’t fuckin’ with Monae on any type of level. Paris was brown skinned, with a thick frame, a slim waist and a fat ass that I loved to grip when I was hitting it from the back. She stood about 5’5” and she kept her jet black hair in a natural wrap that resting at her shoulders.
Monae was perfect because I had put a good amount of effort into her body. Before I started fuckin’ Monae, she was skinny as hell, but she still had a little bit of ass on her. Then she started learning how to take this dick the way that I wanted her to, and when I put her ass in the gym with me, her body was fuckin’ perfect now, especially that thigh gap that I blessed her with.
“Paris, you already know my situation right now. I’m not in no position to be trying to have no baby with you. Come on, lil mama, we not even together. You deserve better than that,” I said, sounding like a typical nigga trying to get a bitch to get an abortion. Shit, but what I was saying was very much true.
“I bet if that young bitch was pregnant with your baby, you wouldn’t be saying this shit,” she fussed.
I jumped up and wrapped my large hand around her throat.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Paris, and don’t call her no fuckin’ bitch. And you damn right, if Monae comes to me claiming she’s pregnant then I’m cool with that because I know that’s where the fuck I want to be! I’m just not fuckin’ with her ass right now,” I said and shoved her into the wall of her room.
I watched as a few tears slid down her face. I didn’t want to come off as heartless, and I knew I was just taking my frustrations out on her. But her calling Monae a bitch had pushed my buttons a little too far.
“Get dressed and I’ll meet you in the car. We don’t even have to go to the doctor, let’s just go to Walgreens and get an accurate pregnancy test because this cheap little shit that you copped from the dollar store is not going to cut it,” I said and made my way from out of her room.
Outside, I headed to my 2015 BMW X5 truck. I had copped this bad boy when I bought Monae her BMW. I got in my car, let the seat back a little, reached inside the glove compartment on the passenger side and pulled out my stash of weed. When I opened the glove compartment, a pair of red thongs flew to the floor and I smiled, thinking about Monae and the last time I had fucked her in this car. Her thong was still in there because I barely drove this truck, and I guess I never did take it out. I pulled out my weed and stuffed her panties back inside, and then began to roll up.
I had my own little rotation going on when I noticed Paris walking toward the car with a mean scowl on her face. She was dressed in a pair of sweatpants from pink, with the matching sweater and she had a pair of Converse on her feet. She got into the car and I pulled off.
“There’s a slight chance that I might be pregnant, so could you at least respect me enough not to smoke around me,” she said.
I almost slapped the shit out of her ass. I swear this new generation of pregnant women were so damn extra. It’s like, even if you are pregnant, the fact that I’m smoking right now wasn’t going to cause any harm, so I chose to continue smoking my blunt until I felt like I was good and high.
Ten minutes later, we pulled up to a Walgreens and I parked the car, handed Paris a fifty-dollar bill, and told her to go inside and pick up three tests. I stayed in the car and waited for her while bopping my head to Quan’s mixtape. As I was in the car chilling, I noticed another BMW pull up behind me. I prayed to God that it wasn’t Monae, even though I knew it was her. She was the only female in the hood t
o ride her short ass around in a matte black BMW, with 28-inch rims. I knew that she had spotted my car and lord knows that I wanted to drive off, but I was already caught, so it was no use trying to hide. Hopefully, this would be quick and smooth and I wouldn’t have to worry about her running into Paris.
Knock! Knock! Knock! Monae knocked on my car window and I slowly rolled the window down a little bit. I looked down at her, dressed in a pair of ripped booty shorts, with a burgundy tank top and a pair of slides on her feet. I could tell that she was coming from the nail salon because she still had the shit that they put between your toes when they finish painting them, plus Monae always wore shit like this whenever she was about to get her nails or her hair done.
“Why are you sitting in the parking lot of Walgreens looking stupid? And how come I haven’t heard back from your ass?” she asked me.
