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“Wait a minute, Baby Girl, let me explain. It’s not what you think.”
I put my hand up. “‘Baby Girl’ my ass, nigga…it’s exactly what I think. So save it. You can’t explain shit to me.” Patrice looked at me wide-eyed and sweaty as she tried to hurry up and cover her naked body. “Bitch, I done already seen ya titties floppin’ up and down and ya ass spread open like the Harlem River, so there ain’t no need to rush on my account, ho.” I stared her down. “Yeah, bitch, you finally got what you wanted. I hope the nigga’s dick was worth it. How’d you like that big dick up in ya guts, bitch?” She igged me; just kept puttin’ her clothes on. “You hear me, bitch, how long you been fuckin’ my muthafuckin’ man?”
“Six months,” she replied. B-Love’s mouth dropped open.
“Yo, she’s buggin’. We ain’t—”
“Shut ya lyin’ ass up, nigga! This is between me and this bitch here.”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ ya man, and what?!” she yelled on some real tough-girl shit. “You knew I was diggin’ him, and instead of steppin’ off you, jumped up on his dick, so it’s fair exchange. Now you—”
And before the bitch could finish tryna talk greasy, I charged at her, clawin’ at her and punchin’ up her face. This was no longer ’bout him; I already knew I was gonna handle him later. At that moment, it was ’bout that bitch disrespectin’ me; it was ’bout her crossin’ the line; and it was ’bout me fuckin’ her up to let her know she had crossed the wrong one.
“You triflin’ dirty bitch!” I screamed as I knocked her down, then jumped on her and continued beatin’ her face in. “I’ma fuckin’ kill you, bitch.” She tried to scratch at my face to get me off her, but I was hittin’ her so hard and so fast that she couldn’t get her nails in. “You wanna fuck my man, ho. Fuckin’ trick! You want him, bitch, you can have him!”
B-Love tried to pull me off of her. But I was a wild woman, swingin’ and punchin’ and screamin’ with all my might. “Kat, stop it! Get off her. Come on, baby.” He finally got his arms up under mine and yanked me off of her. My legs were swingin’ wildly, kickin’ her in her head, face, and chest.
“You’se a dead bitch!” Patrice yelled as she scrambled to her feet and tried to come at me. Blood was pourin’ outta her mouth and nose. Her neck and chest became a battleground filled with bruises and long, deep scratches, exposin’ white meat. “I’ma fuck you up for jumpin’ on me, bitch.” I raised both of my legs up and kicked her in her chest, sendin’ her flyin’ backward. She stumbled into the wall.
“Yo, bitch,” B-Love yelled at Patrice while tryna restrain me, “get ya shit and get the fuck out! Let me handle this.”
“Get the fuck off me!” I screamed, tryna kick, bite, and break outta his grip. “Get your muthafuckin’ grimy-ass hands off me, nigga! You fucked my aunt, you fuckin’ snake-ass bastard. And you tryna save her from gettin’ her ass beat. Fuck you, nigga!”
Patrice grabbed the rest of her shit and ran out the door. “This ain’t over, bitch!” I screamed at her. “Trust me. I’ma see you, you dirty ho. And e’erytime I do—be ready to rock, bitch!”
B-Love tried to calm me down, but I wasn’t hearin’ shit he had to say. He held me tight, refusin’ to let me go while I screamed, cried, and called him every name in the fuckin’ book. He kept apologizin’ over and over, kept beggin’ me to forgive him. The damage was done. Slob and spit and snot was e’erywhere. I cried all fuckin’ night. And the nigga thought all my tears were over him. Little did he know, he had awakened a beast that I thought I had buried, a beast that craved blood, a beast that longed for revenge, a beast that would not rest until it was served; and I sobbed all night tryna fight it back. But it was too late. This thing inside of me was alive and hungry and needed to be fed. And I was the bitch to feed it! Fuck love, fuck forgiveness—my mind was made up. The only thing that would soothe its hunger was death.
“…I don’t know why the fuck her dumb ass gotta fuck with someone else’s man. That shit is just fuckin’ crazy to me,” Chanel continued, bringin’ me back to the coversation. “Then she got the nerve to have me out ’n about with her ass last night at Mars 2112 and not say shit to me about havin’ beef with these bitches until after shit popped off outside. Four o’clock in the goddamn morning, and these bitches tryna set it off right there in the middle of Times Square. I’m so over that ho right now. What the fuck I look like, tryna fight them big booga bear bitches in my wears. Had the bitch told me shit was hectic I woulda rocked a pair of jeans and some constructs instead of bein’ out in my two-thousand-dollar Chanel dress and diamond-crusted heels, feel me?”
I sighed, rollin’ my eyes. I hated bitches who knowingly slept with another chick’s man. It’s one thing if a nigga lies to you and gets you all caught up in his shit, and it’s a whole ’nother thing when a ho just don’t give a fuck. Fuck what ya heard. That’s grounds for a serious ghetto-style beat down!
“Humph. Better you than me. I ain’t fuckin’ with Tamia like that anymore. The bitch is too damn reckless, and I ain’t diggin’ it. So, since she wanna be fuckin’ these niggas, knowin’ they got girls ’n shit, then she gets what she gets. Somebody is gonna stretch her ass if she doesn’t slow her roll. I really don’t know what the fuck is wrong with these bitches. Did I tell you her ass is poppin’ E’s?”
“Say what?” she asked, surprised. “Get the fuck outta here, no way!”
“That’s what I hear.”
“Who told you that bullshit?”
“A source that I’m slowly startin’ to believe,” I said. “I almost didn’t wanna believe it, but the way them bitches been movin’ I don’t put shit past either one of ’em now. I meant to confront her ass ’bout it the other night, but I got sidetracked with Iris’s nasty ass.”
“Humph. Girl, I’m done.”
The Kat line started ringin’. I got up and pulled it out of my D & G bag, then checked the number. It was Cash. Don’t ask why I always checked the number, knowin’ damn well he was the only nigga callin’ on that line. I just did outta habit, I guess. I let it go into voicemail.
“…I’ve heard it all,” Chanel continued. “But poppin’ pills, Kat, c’mon…that’s a bit much.”
“Listen, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just sayin’. The next time you talk to her ass, ask her.”
“Oh, trust. I will,” she said, pausin’. “Well, let me go. Divine is on his way over. I swear he gets on my last nerve, but—”
“The nigga takes good care of you.”
“Exactly,” she said, laughin’. “But that’s not what I was gonna say.”
“Well, it’s all you should be sayin’. ’Cause if ya ass keep followin’ behind Tamia and Iris, ya gonna end up losin’ a good thing. So be thankful for what ya got.”
