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The thing is, Billion never told me to wait for him or anything like that while he did his bid. Shit, he and I weren’t even together when he went in, we weren’t together while he was in, or none of that shit. However, there had been times in the past when we would still fuck, even with us not being together. If the nigga came home and decided to hit it, I wanted him to deep stroke me and tell me that my pussy felt exactly the way he left it.
Chris was cool. He was so fuckin’ fine, and he had money too. Not that I liked him because he had money, because truthfully, I had my own shit, plus Billion made sure that I was straight. But it was a bonus for a nigga to have his own shit and not look for me to take care of them or worry about them trying to keep up. He was the owner of the shop, plus he had another shop out in L.A., and they both were very successful.
Five years ago, when I decided to change my son’s barber, I met Chris. What’s so crazy is that I had always been attracted to dark-skinned men. Billion was probably the reason why I had an attraction for men with a darker complexion because he was like the portrait of a fine ass, dark-skinned, thugged out nigga.
Chris was the complete opposite, though; he had a caramel complexion. Although he was a barber, he had a love for art, and tattoos covered most of his body. Like my son, he had nice, long hair. He often kept his hair in braids like Nipsey Hussle used to wear his. He was skinny like him too, and listen, believe everything you hear about them skinny niggas because them niggas can fuck you crazy, and they have big dicks too! Only thing is, he was three years younger than me, and he just wasn’t Billion.
It wasn’t right for me to be with a dude and wishing that he was someone else, so whatever Chris and I had going on was pretty much over. He wasn’t some lame ass nigga either, so he wasn’t going to just sit around while I played him as a rebound. It was actually Chris who broke things off with me. I came up with some lame ass excuse on why he and I should stop fuckin’ around, so he pretty much gave me my walking papers, letting me know that he didn’t want to be friends or nothing. He still lined up my son’s hair for me, but that was honestly as far as it went.
Since my son had his fresh lineup for his pictures tomorrow, I put his plaits back in his hair yesterday, and he looked so handsome. Lil Bill had long hair just like I did when I was his age. He wanted dreads, but I kept putting it off because I really didn’t know if I wanted him with dreads yet. I told him that I would give him a final answer on his eleventh birthday, which was coming up in a few months. I swear, the time was flying. He was still young, so I knew that if let him have dreads now, I would stay on top of it and make sure he kept them maintained and everything else. It was when he got older that I was worried about.
In Miami, the older niggas walked around with their dreads looking crazy. The whole not getting a re-twist look or even when they had them standing on the top of their heads, looking crazy, was just something that I didn’t want Lil Bill to do when he got older. I was crazy for even thinking like that. For one, who’s to say that my son will even have dreads years from now if I let him get them, and two, how do I even know that he won’t be responsible enough to keep them up?
I remember having long hair like my son and
always wanting to do it in different styles. I learned how to do hair when I was about ten years old. My mama and my aunt owned a hair salon, so I spent a lot of my time in the shop with them. My father was murdered when I was only two years old. I was too young to remember him, but of course, I’ve always seen the pictures of us that we had taken together when I was a little girl.
My father was mixed with Puerto Rican and black. He had dark skin, which is where I’d inherited my skin tone. Looking at pictures of my father, I could honestly say that he looked like he used to be the man, and my mama swore up and down that he was the realest nigga she’s ever met in her life. He was so fly too. All the pictures that I’d seen of him showed that he was such a fly dresser, and he wore his hair in dreads.
My daddy was a hustler. Hustling is what got him murdered. Of course, he was robbed of his jewelry and his money, and then he was killed right in his car. You would think that knowing that my father died because of the street life, I would have never entertained being with Billion back then, but nah… I’ve always been intrigued by his black ass.
Anyway, back to me… I used to have silky, curly hair going down my back, but ladies, I swear to God we will allow these niggas to fuckin’ take us there! These niggas will have us smoking just as many blunts throughout the day as them. Mind you, before I got with my baby daddy, I never smoked. I’d drink some Henny in a second, but I never was a smoker.
I was with Billion when he was heavy in the streets. I liked some of the perks that came with him being in the game. I loved being able to go down to Bal Harbor and pick out anything I wanted, waking up in the morning to stacks of money waiting for me on the dresser to go shopping, and just all around knowing that I was fuckin’ and suckin’ on a fuckin’ boss! I loved when Billion would come in the house at two in the morning, drop that gun on the dresser, and put that dick down on me after a long day of trapping.
Those were the perks, but I swear, this shit came with so many downsides. Half the time, when Billion left, I never even knew if he would make it back to me. I didn’t know if his ass would get picked up by the police or if he would get murdered while he was out. I dealt with that, infidelity, and lack of time. Going on dates and catching a flight out of the country weren’t things that we did because the man was always fuckin’ hustling. I couldn’t even complain because I’d signed up for this shit.
It wasn’t until I got pregnant with our son that I really started complaining. I wanted Billion home with me, giving me foot massages, kissing me on my stomach, and going to the stores with me to pick out baby clothes, but he was never there for any of that. He would just leave the money and tell me to go shopping, but I wanted more. That’s when a lot of the fighting started.
Our son looked so much like his father because I beefed with that man so much while I was pregnant that it was impossible for it to have been any other way. I didn’t know if it was problems that I was battling with myself, but after having Lil Bill, the fighting got worse. My postpartum depression fucked with me bad, and because I felt like Billion wasn’t there to console a bitch, whenever he came around, I was always spazzing.
We used to fight badly. One time, I stabbed his ass up for fuckin’ them hoes on me. I have hopped out of the damn car in the middle of traffic, just to get away from his ass. As bad as he and I used to go at it, and as much as I would scream that I hate you shit, it broke my heart when he had his daughter on me. It fucked with me even more when he was sentenced to five years in prison.
Although Khari was conceived when Billion and I were on one of our breaks, I knew he would have killed me dead if I let another nigga fuck me at that time, and I ended up pregnant. When he had his daughter, that’s when it was pretty much confirmed that he and I were done. Billion and I had a lot of breakups and then plenty of fuckin’ to make up, but that time right there was it.
I’m not even about to act like I didn’t still love Billion because I did. I loved the fuck out of his ass, and if he ever told me he wanted his family back, I would jump at the opportunity to do that. We were young when we got together. Young and really didn’t even know what the fuck we were doing. I was older now, and much wiser, so I felt like if we ever gave it another chance, it could possibly work.
My shit was in order these days, so I knew that shit would turn him on. I did hair when I wanted to come out of retirement, but my primary income came from my hairline. I sold all kinds of luxury hair, specializing in wigs, frontals, closures, bundles, all of that, and my business was doing well. My business was currently run out of my house, but I was in the process of opening my own store. That pretty ass BMW X5 that was parked in my driveway, I didn’t have to fuck and suck for that; I actually paid for that shit in cash on my own.
I was raising a smart little boy on my own, but when Billion was locked up, my mama and aunt both stepped up and helped me out with him. One thing I wasn’t going to do was beg Billion to be with me because I wasn’t desperate, and I knew I could have any nigga I wanted. Still, it would feel good to settle down and have that family thing going on with my child’s father. At the same time, Billion was a man who spoke his mind, so if he wanted me back, I knew that he would have said the shit already.
Truth be told, I didn’t think he wanted to be with Denim or me. Denim was baby mama number two, and to be honest, she wasn’t a threat to me. She didn’t have the history with Billion that I had. For so long, I resented her because I felt like it was because of her that my family broke up, but these days, I guess you can say that I tolerated the bitch. Our kids were siblings, and Lil Bill adored his little sister.
In a way, we somewhat come together when Billion was locked up. Sometimes, she would drop Khari off and let her stay the night with her brother, and at times, I would let my son go over there. When the first day of school came around, birthdays or holidays like Christmas came, I would get things for Khari, and she would do the same for my son. That was it, though; we weren’t friends, and we damn sure didn’t go out for brunch to sip mimosas. We kept it cordial and mature for the sake of the kids.
“I’ll call you back, bae,” I heard Lil Bill say as I put his clothes on the back of his gaming chair.
My head swung in his direction as fast as hell when I heard him use the word, bae.
“Give me that phone,” I said, walking over and snatching the phone out of his hands.
He was laughing like it was funny, as he stood up from the bed. My baby boy was beautiful, and he was going through this little stage now where he liked girls, and the girls liked his ass back. It had to have been the hair on his head. Even right now, his long hair was going down his back in the neat braids that I’d put in for him. Those light brown eyes on his chocolate skin were what had me giving this little boy anything he wanted.
He was in a wife beater and basketball shorts, standing there, looking like his daddy.
“That’s not funny. Who the hell is this girl that you are always on the phone talking to? How old is she? You know what? Don’t even worry about it. I’m going to call her back and ask to speak with her parents. Her parents know that she’s talking on the phone with you?” I asked, rambling off question after question as I went through his drawers, trying to find a pair of clean boxers and some pajamas for after he took his bath.
I was single with one kid, so I often did too much for my son. He hated when I babied him, which is why he moved me out of the way and got his own stuff out to put on after he finished bathing.
