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“Well, that’s you,” she said. “I’ma do what I gotta do.”
I shook my head, poppin’ another shrimp in my mouth. “Does Justice know?” I asked, wipin’ my mouth.
“Nah, that nigga don’t know. And he ain’t gonna know. Anyway, he ain’t my muhfuckin’ man. He’s just somebody I’m fuckin’. I’m ’bout to give him his papers, anyway.”
“You’se a real dumb bitch, for real,” I said, rollin’ my eyes. “I can’t fuckin’ believe you. We used to laugh at them bitches, and now you one of ’em.”
“Whatever.”
“So what’s good with you and that other nigga you were fuckin’?” I asked.
“Please,” she said as she reached for the Patrón, “he’s just some side dick. Ain’t nothin’ poppin’ with him and me.” She filled her shot glass, then tossed it back. She set the glass back down on the table and continued. “As long as I can get into the clubs for free with my girls, then the nigga serves his purpose.”
“Girl, you know I understand a bitch tryna do her,” Chanel said, “but I’m with Kat. That shit’s crazy. If shit gets hot, you know that nigga will hang ya ass to dry.”
“It ain’t even like that,” she stated, gettin’ all defensive ’n shit.
I sucked my teeth. “Why, because you fuckin’ him?”
“Yeah, we fuckin’ ’n all. But he ain’t even on it like that. On some real shit, the nigga asked me to do him this solid. He’s diggin’ me, and I’m diggin’ him. Real talk.”
If that wasn’t the dumbest shit I ever heard this bitch say. No nigga who is really feelin’ you, or tryna wife ya, is gonna get ya ass caught up in some shit like pickin’ up and movin’ his packages. Fuck that. He’s gonna try to keep ya ass outta that shit. Get his muhfuckin’ niggas or some trick to handle that shit. I don’t give a fuck what ya say. Now I might carry a nigga’s gun into a club or some shit like that, like I used to do when I was fuckin’ with Naheem, but that extra shit…you can kiss my beautiful round ass!
“Bitch, please,” I said. “Like he’s diggin’ the other six bitches he got runnin’ shit for his ass. Girl, the only thing that muhfucka is diggin’ is ya back out. That nigga don’t give a fuck ’bout you ’cause if he did, he wouldn’t’ve asked ya ass to do no shit like that in the first place. So fuck what ya heard.”
“You don’t know what you talkin’ ’bout.”
“Yeah okay…if you say so. But I know all that nigga is doin’ is usin’ ya silly ass. And you too stuck on stupid to see it.”
Tamia chimed in. “Kat, you always comin’ outta the side of ya neck with shit. Iris is a grown-ass woman, so let her do her. If the nigga is tryna play her, she’ll peep it, and in the end his ass’ll get played ’cause that’s how we do ours.” She lifted her drink toward Iris. “Girl, I’m with you. Get that paper. Just know when to dip out.”
“Exactly,” Iris said, clickin’ her glass with Tamia’s.
“Bitch, fuck that. If we ’posed to be girls, then girls check each other when shit ain’t right. And this shit don’t sit right with me, so, I’m sayin’ somethin’. But at the end of the day, I know the bitch is gonna do what she wants. But that still don’t mean I ain’t gonna call her on it.”
“And you know I appreciate it, but I know what I’m doin’.”
I stared at her ass like she had six heads and a dick hangin’ outta each one of her mouths. “Humph. Yeah, okay. Who is this nigga, anyway?” I asked.
“Don’t worry ’bout that,” Iris replied, suckin’ her teeth. “You don’t need to know all that right now.”
“Aww, shit,” Chanel said. “So now we keepin’ secrets from each other?”
“I’m not keepin’ secrets. I need to keep this on the low for now. But, this bitch here,” she said, flickin’ her thumb in my direction, “tryna put me on blast ’n shit.”
“Because I care ’bout what happens to ya dumb ass.”
“Don’t worry. I got this.”
“Well, I tell ya what, Miss I Got This. When the nigga turns his back on ya ass, you make sure you got enough bail money to get ya dumb ass outta Rikers, and enough money for a lawyer to keep ya ass from bein’ sent up the way, ’cause Tamia’s broke ass ain’t got it to help ya ass since she wanna be on ya team ’n shit.”
“Whatever,” Iris said. “I know you ain’t talkin’, bitch. You the biggest secret keeper up in this piece and ain’t none of us ridin’ ya clit tryna find out how you makin’ ya paper.”
“I ain’t bein’ no nigga’s mule,” I said, frownin’. “That’s what the fuck I’m not doin’.”
“Well, answer me this,” Iris said, takin’ another blunt from Tamia. She took three pulls and passed it to Chanel. When Chanel tried to pull me into the rotation, I told her ass, again, I was good. “Is how you makin’ ya ends legal?”
“Ho, what I do or don’t do has nothin’ to do with ya dumb ass runni
