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“I know you are,” I tell ’er, squeezin’ ’round ’er waist.
“Kat, you can’t let them take ’im; you gotta step up and take that lil’ baby. He’s so precious and tiny. Ohmiiiigod, you gotta, girl.” I don’t say shit; just break down, sobbin’. She hugs me, rubbin’ my back. “It’s gonna be aiiiight. I know you scared, girl. But I got ya back. We can do this. It’s whateva, ho. You know how we do. You hear me?”
I nod. Hold onto ’er tighter, catchin’ Elise lookin’ ova in our direction. She says sumthin’ to Patrice ’n my grandmother, then walks ova toward us. “This bitch,” I mumble.
Chanel whispers in my ear, “Be nice, Kat. Keep it cute.”
Elise reaches out to console me, but I pull away. I don’t want the bitch touchin’ me. And I ain’t beat to hear what comes outta ’er cunt muncha. I look ova to the left of me and peep Patrice huggin’ my grandmother. The poor thing is all broken up. And so she should be.
“Kat, we’re family. Whateva shit you think we’ve done to you, right now we gotta let that shit go. We gotta work it through. I know you’re hurt. We’re all hurt. But this shit, this bullshit-ass feud, has gotta stop. I lost two sistas, back to back. And now there’s a baby that’s gonna need all of us.”
I blink. Finally look the ho in the face.
“I know you’re angry at ya moms, but she loved you. And she did the best she could wit’ what she had.”
“Please. Get. Away from me.”
The bitch keeps standin’ here. “I know you’re hurtin’ that the two of you couldn’t rebuild ya relationship, but—”
I tilt my head. I catch Chanel’s eye. She raises ’er brow. Gives me a “girl-don’t-do-it look.” Ohmiiiiigod…this dizzy bitch thinks these tears are ’cause I’m grievin’.
“But nuthin’. Me and Juanita neva had a relationship, so there wasn’t one to try ’n repair. Get ya facts straight.”
She clenches ’er teeth. “You know what, Kat, I’m really tryna be civil wit’ ya ass. But, you really pushin’ it. I know you goin’ through a buncha shit so I’m givin’ you a pass.”
&n
bsp; Chanel starts pullin’ me by the arm. “C’mon, girl, keep this shit cute; let’s go.”
For once, I think before I speak. I don’t call ’er a buncha bitches and low-budget hoes like I want. “Elise, be clear. You ain’t givin’ me a pass to shit. So hop, lil’ froggy, and get dropped. ’Cause you can get it just like ya crackhead sista did; trust.”
“Elise, c’mon, girl,” Patrice calls out. “Don’t get into no situations wit’ that crazy-ass chick, not tonight. We need’a get Momma outta here. Don’t worry; she got it comin’ to ’er.”
I snap my neck in ’er direction. “And who’s gonna bring it to me? You? ’Cause I know you ain’t crazy enough to think that this”—I flick my thumb over at Elise—“this chick is gonna serve it.”
Elise turns ’er attention back to me. “Bitch, don’t sleep. As soon as we bury my sista, I’ma see you.”
I eye the bitch. “Oh, really. Well, let me tell you this. You betta keep a ’xtra hole dug ’cause da day you raise up on me will be da day ya mammy will be tossin’ ya ass in it next to ya dead-ass sistas.”
She raises a hand to swing off but I catch it, pushin’ ’er back into the window. “Biiiitch!” she yells, causin’ a bigga scene than necessary. Fuck tryna keep it cute. A bitch is ready bring it to this ho’s head.
“Stop it! Both of you,” my grandmother snaps. “I will not have this. Elise, leave that hateful devil child alone.”
I raise my hands up and pointin’ at ’er like their guns. “Granny, boom,” I say, makin’ poppin’ gestures at the air as if I’ma shoot ’er the fuck up.
She stops in ’er tracks. “Elise, let’s go,” she says. “Esta puta es loco.”
I force myself to laugh. “Yeah, I’ma crazy bitch. And whaaaat? Stay da fuck away from me. All’a you.”
I’m surprised Patrice isn’t tryna set it off. I guess the bitch is too distraught to bring it. Elise says some extra shit still tryna make it pop ’bout not lettin’ me get away wit’ disrespectin’ ’er mother. My grandmother yanks ’er by arm, and the bitch still keeps poppin’ shit.
“You lucky ya grandmother’s here. She saved you from a beat-down. But, bitch, be clear, I’ma jump on that ass so fast you won’t know what da fuck hit you.”
Instead of escalatin’ the shit, I straight spin-off on them bitches. Bottom line, my mind is made up. If the bitch comes at me on any kinda shit, I’ma push ’er fronts all the way to the back, then I’ma be makin’ that call for anotha clean-up crew. And a bitch don’t have’a problem tossin’ Cash’s freak-nasty ass another pair’a panties to make this ho go away—permanently.
LATER THAT NIGHT, ME AND CHANEL ARE SITTIN’ UP AT ’ER SPOT, blazin’ ’n tossin’ back a bottle of Moscato while listenin’ to Eric Roberson. As usual Devine is out grindin’ and Chanel is sittin’ here schemin’ on how she can get ’er creep on. “Do you know if Allstar got any niggas on his squad I might wanna chill wit’?”
I shrug, frownin’. “Bitch, how da fuck I know?”
