AllFreeNovel
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“Well, too bad. It is what it is. So get ova it.”
“Nah, fuck that. I don’t have nuthin’ to hide from you. I gave you all my passwords and shit, so you can see for ya’self. What da fuck I gotta lie for? Why da hell would a muhfucka give you access to all of his shit if da nigga wasn’t tryna be on the up ’n up wit’ you? C’mon, Kat, give a muhfucka some credit, damn, yo. Have you checked the shit?”
Mmmm, da nigga gotta point. Still… “Yeah, I checked da shit once,” I admit, steppin’ outta my panties, then walkin’ into the bathroom. I turn the shower on. The same day he gave me the shit I went upstairs and ran all through his shit. Read his messages, emails and the shit on his Blackplanet guestbook. The nigga has thousands of naked-ass hoes up on his shit, throwin’ the pussy at ’im. It was mad extra. I even read notes and emails he sent. But, nuthin’ really popped out to make me think the nigga was tryna be on some playground shit.
“And?”
“And, there wasn’t shit to see.”
“Aiight, then. That should tell you sumthin’.”
“Nigga, that don’t tell me shit. All it says is that day there wasn’t shit to see—that time. That doesn’t mean that next week or week after that that some extra shit ain’t gonna pop off.”
“Yo, then keep checkin’ da shit anytime you want.”
“Nigga, my name ain’t Inspector Gadget. I ain’t da kinda bitch whose gonna keep investigatin’ shit. Only dumb-ass, dick-whipped bitches do that stupid bullshit. I’m good.”
Me and this nigga go back ’n forth for anotha ten minutes wit’ ’im tryna convince me that ain’t shit extra goin’ on on his end. That he’s kept it funky wit’ me from the rip. I wanna believe the nigga, but I know how crafty and slick muhfuckas can be. I start zonin’ out on the nigga ’cause the shit’s startin’ to cramp my asshole. “Look, I ain’t beat for this convo. So you either change it, or hang up,” I tell ’em, puttin’ the phone on speaker. I step into the shower.
“Yo, what…you in da shower?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, word? What you gettin’ ready to get into?” I tell ’im I got business to handle. The fact that I got these child welfare hoes comin’ up to my spot to complete their background investigation ain’t really none’a his concern. Nor is tellin’ ’im that I’m goin’ up to the hospital to sit wit’ a baby that I’ma be raisin’. I get knots in my stomach just thinkin’ ’bout
it. If I decide to keep this nigga in my space, then I’ll eventually tell ’im what’s really good. I know it’s not sumthin’ I’ma be able to keep from ’im. But for now, he only needs to know the basics. Not much. Shit, takin’ on a baby is gonna be mad responsibility. Shit, I don’t even know if I’ma be beat for. So the last thing I need is to be fuckin’ wit’ a nigga who’s gonna come wit’ a buncha distractions. “What time you gonna be done?” I tell ’im not ’til late. Tell ’im I might be stayin’ in Brooklyn. “Wit’ who?”
I suck my teeth. “Damn, nigga, wit’ Chanel.”
“Yeah, aiight, yo.” The nigga gets quiet. “Dig, if you ain’t beat to fuck wit’ a nigga, let me know so I can fall back before a muhfucka’s head gets all fucked up.”
“Nigga, puhleeze. Ya head’s already fucked up. You know you ain’t ready to let go’a this pussy heat.”
“Whatever, yo. Who else you lettin’ hit that?”
I shake my head, steppin’ outta the shower. “No one at da moment. But, trust. That can change at any time. Right now a bitch is chillin’.”
“Yeah, aiight. Let me find out ya biscuit head givin’ out Daddy’s goods.”
I laugh. “Ohhhhhhhmigod, you so fuckin’ ova ya’self.”
“And I’m tryna be all over you, but you wanna be on some ole other shit.”
I walk into my closet, pullin’ out a red long-sleeve Gucci tee and a pair of pencil jeans. “Mmmph; if you say so.” I decide to pick the nigga’s brain to see how he feels ’bout kids. “Would you eva deal wit’ a chick wit’ kids?”
“I don’t know. I’ve fucked chicks wit’ kids, but I ain’t neva wanna wife any of ’em. I’m not sure if I would wanna be dealin’ wit’ a chick wit’ ’em on some exclusive shit unless she doesn’t have a buncha baby daddy issues. A muhfucka ain’t beat for that. Why, you got some kids you ain’t tellin’ me ’bout?”
“Maybe; maybe not.”
“Yeah, aiight.”
“Well, what if I did?”
“Well, hypothetically, if you did. How many you talkin’ ’bout? One, two?”
“One,” I tell ’im, slippin’ a pair of socks on my feet. He tells me one is cool. But since it’s me, two is aiight, too. Then he tells me as fine as I am I could have twenty and he’d still wanna rock wit’ me on some solo-type shit as long as my pussy stayed right.
“Then again, that shit could be wide as an ocean and I’d still wanna wife you. You’d just have’ta let me beat that asshole up e’ery night.”
