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I laugh. “Nigga, you a real fool, you know that, right? You know damn well you ain’t runnin’ that big ass dick in my ass e’ery damn night.”
“Then we’ll rotate that shit,” he says, laughin’ wit’ me. “One night in ya throat, the next night in ya ass.”
My doorbell rings. It’s showtime, I think, peekin’ outta the bedroom window. I peep the state car in the driveway. Let’s get this shit ova wit’. “Yeah, whateva. Listen, I gotta go. Call me lata.”
“I got you, baby.”
I suck my teeth. “Muhfucka, what I tell you ’bout callin’ me that?”
“Yo, chill out wit’ that dumb shit. I call you what I want. You know you Daddy’s baby.”
“Nigga, suck my ass and daddy on this,” I say, disconnectin’ the call and headin’ down the stairs to greet these state hoes.
Alex sends me a text: Yo, u got my dik hard wit’ that shit.
I text back: Whateva.
I hope these bitches don’t say nuthin’ slick and have me flippin’ da fuck out. I swing the front door open, pastin’ a phony-ass smile up on my grill. “Hi, glad you made it. Come on in.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Shoot ’em up…bang-bang…Glock cocked…ready to pop… muhfucka thought he could run ’n hide…nigga done ran outta time…thought he was gonna get away way wit’ da crime… ain’t got no clout…justice ’bout to be dished out…gonna show ’im what revenge’s ’bout…bum-ass nigga…and it’s a ruthless bitch who’s ’bout ta pull da trigga….
“Yo, pretty baby, wasssup? We found da muhfucka you were lookin’ for. Holla back. Oh, yeah, and a muhfucka’s still waitin’ for you to come through wit’ anotha pair of them panties. A muhfucka’s tryna get his sniff on. Take care of that, pronto.” He laughs into the phone. I delete the shit, rollin’ my eyes. This fat muhfucka, I think, hittin’ ’im back.
“Yo, you get my message?”
I suck my teeth. “Nigga, why else would I be callin’ ya black ass? Geesh, you dumber than you look.”
“Yeah, aiiight. Keep talkin’shit, and get ya fronts knocked, Kat.”
“Cash, listen carefully…” I pause. Wait ’til it gets quiet on the otha end. “You listenin’?”
“Yeah, wassup?”
“Nigga, kiss my ass. That’s wassup. Now, what you got for me?”
He laughs. “Yo, ma, you funny as fuck. You betta be glad a muhfucka fucks wit’ you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now let’s cut da shit. Where’s this bum-ass nigga at?”
“The muhfucka’s been hidin’ out down south in some small-ass country town in North Carolina called Como.”
What da fuck kinda place is that, I think, twistin’ my lips up. Do they even gotta airport? “Where?” he repeats the name. “Mmmph. Corny-ass nigga had to run off to some backward-ass part’a the country. Do you know how he’s livin’? Is he down there wit’ someone?”
“Yeah, he’s there wit’ some chick stayin’ up in one’a them trailer homes.”
Probably some country-coon trash he done bagged on da run. Now I gotta think how I’ma get at this nigga wit’out drawin’ heat to myself. “Listen. I need’a fava.”
“I got you, wassup up?” I tell ’im I need ’im to handle the arrangements. Set up the hotel shit and have my items I need to dust this nigga’s top sent down like old times. I tell ’im I need’a report of how the nigga moves, a list of his comin’s and goin’s.
“You got that. You need anything else? A disposal crew?”
A part of me wants the nigga to be found wit’ his eyes rolled back up in his head and his brains splattered. Then anotha part wants it to look like the nigga done got ghost all together. I decide I want the nigga to disappear, for good.
“Aiight, bet. I’ll have a crew on standby. When you tryna get it in?”
Shit, I gotta go up to da hospital. And I got these ACS and court bitches I gotta deal wit’. I tell ’im to give me a few days to handle some things, then disconnect.
