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I hand ’im the blunt. He shifts his body, raises up on his forearm, and takes it from me. I watch ’im pull it up to his thick lips, and puff. He looks at me. He strokes my hair, then rubs the side of my face. “Look, ma, I don’t know what it is ’bout you, but a muhfucka’s really diggin’ you.” I raise my brow. “What?”
I shake my head.
“Yo, you think I’m bullshittin’, don’t you?”
“I think you’ll say whateva you think I wanna hear at da moment.” I take the blunt from ’im.
“Nah,” he leans in, kisses me on the lips, then stares me in the eyes. “True story, baby. You gotta muhfucka open.”
I blink, blink again. Shake my head. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say shit you don’t mean.”
“I tell you what. You don’t believe me. Let me introduce you to da only woman whose ever meant anything to me. She’ll keep da shit funky and tell you what it is.”
“Oh, really? And who is that?” He takes another pull off’a the blunt, leans ova me, puttin’ it out in the ashtray, then blows weed smoke up at the ceilin’. “Well, muhfucka, who is it?”
He grins. “My moms. E’ery Sunday I have dinner wit’ ’er. I want you to meet ’er. She’s as real as they get, and she’s a good cook. She ain’t gonna front on you.”
I twist my lips up. “And you want me to meet ’er?”
“No doubt.” He gets outta bed. I watch ’im as he walks ova to his pile of clothes. He pulls out his cell. “I’ma put it on speaker so you can hear it for ya’self since you think a muhfucka’s front-in’ on you.” I sit up in bed, proppin’ a pillow up in back’a me. He shakes his dick at me while the phone rings. I roll my eyes. “And when I’m done wit’ this, I want some more’a that pussy, too.”
“Whateva.”
“Oh, you finally decide to call,” a woman says, soundin’ like she gotta taste of the streets in ’er.
He smiles. “You know I was gonna be hittin’ you up, sooner or later.”
“Mmmph, so who you whorin’ wit’ now, and where?”
I give ’im a look, shakin’ my head. “He laughs, starin’ at me. “No one, ma. I’m chillin’.”
“Yeah, right. And I’m goin’ blind.”
“Nah, real talk, ma. I’m good. But there is someone I want you to meet.”
It sounds like she’s chokin’ on sumthin’. “Say, whaaat? You want me to meet who, a woman?”
He laughs. “Yeah, ma.”
“Who is she?”
He looks at me. “This beauty I’m diggin’.” I suck my teeth, rollin’ my eyes up in my head.
“Who?” she asks, soundin’ shocked. He repeats himself. “I thought that’s what I heard you say. Are you alright? Have you banged ya head on something?”
“Yeah, ma, I’m good. And no I ain’t banged my head. Why?”
“Boy, something must be wrong ’cause you ain’t never ca
lled here wantin’ me to meet any of your lil’ girlfriends.”
He keeps his eyes on me. Okay, so the nigga ain’t neva brought any of his hoes ova to meet his moms. I can’t front. I’m caught off guard wit’ this. I’ve neva met any nigga’s moms before. Still, I’m smart enough to know that that shit still don’t mean nuthin’.
“Yo, ma, they weren’t girlfriends.”
