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“On some real shit, she was mad cool. She checks da nigga left ’n right, and was puttin’ ’im out on front street da whole time, draggin’ ’im for filth.” I start laughin’. “Ohmigod, girlfriend was airin’ his drawers all da way out.”
“What was she sayin’?”
Ohhh
hkay…this is my girl and all. But, on some real shit, a bitch ain’t really up for tellin’ ’er too much ’bout this nigga. So I tell ’er just enough to let ’er know the nigga has real doggish ways.
She wets ’er throat, tossin’ back the rest of ’er drink, then refills ’er glass. “I guess you were shocked when she told you all that.”
“Kinda. I mean, not by what she was sayin’ ’cause I already knew da nigga had a buncha whores on his squad.” She sparks an after dinner blunt, takes a pull, then hands it to me. “I wasn’t expectin’ ’er to put ’im on blast in front of me. And da funny thing is, he didn’t try ’n stop ’er. It was like da nigga wanted ’er to spill his dirt.”
“Yeah, that nigga’s diggin’ you, Kat.”
I shrug. “Maybe.”
She rolls ’er eyes up in ’er head. “Bitch, whaddaya mean, maybe? You already know what it is.”
I put the blunt to my lips, thinkin’ back on my convo with his moms while I was in the kitchen helpin’ her wit’ the dishes. Yes, believe it or not, a bitch rolled up ’er sleeves and helped his moms out. For me, that was a first. But it gave me a chance to get to know ’er some.
“Let me tell you something ’bout my son,” she said, eyein’ me. “Alex is my only child. And I know him like I know the back of my hand. That man has never brought any woman to my home to meet me. And believe me, he has been through multiple women. Even when he was a teenager, sneaking them fast-assed girls into my house, he wasn’t tryna have me meet ’em.
“But, for some reason, he wanted me to meet you. Now I don’t know what it is about you, but whatever it is, it has my son open. And, between you and me, I have been prayin’ every day that he’d meet someone he can settle down with. I don’t know enough about you to say if I think you’re the one. But I know enough to know that my son thinks you’re the one good enough for me to meet. So, that says a lot.” She paused, then added, “You seem like you on point. You classy, beautiful and I can tell a feisty one. And that’s what my son needs—someone who won’t put up with any shit. But I’ma tell you like this, don’t fuck him over, or you and I will have to take it to the streets.”
Believe it or not, a bitch was taken aback when she said that. But I kept it cute. The only thing I could do was smile ’cause on some real shit she brought it to me how a real bitch should—straight to the damn point.
“So, all that said, you tryna make it pop wit’ da nigga or what?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m chillin’.”
“You chillin’? Bitch, ya ass need’a man.”
“I don’t need shit. And I definitely don’t need ’im. Not for anything serious; that’s for sure. The nigga is too extra for me.”
“Mmmph, if you say so. Well, have you at least fucked ’im?”
I smirk. “Sumthin’ like that.”
She drops ’er fork in ’er plate. “Ohmiiiigod, you dirty whore. Since when you start holdin’ out on’a bitch? That’s da first thing that shoulda been cumin’ outta ya cock washas. Fuck goin’ to meet his mammy. Spill it. Is the nigga’s stroke game right?”
I laugh. “No comment.”
She sucks ’er teeth, rollin’ ’er eyes. “Well, answer me this. How many times you fuck ’im?”
“Twice,” I tell ’er, liftin’ my glass in toast.
She laughs. “Say no more. Da dick’s good, and you diggin’ his ass.”
I grin. “What makes you say that?”
“’Cause I know ya kind, boo.”
I chuckle. “Oh, bitch, puhleeze. You think you know so damn much.”
“Well, am I wrong?”
“Ho, finish eatin’ ya damn food.”
“Tramp; just what I thought.”
