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I let my tears fall unchecked. “I-I—”
He sneers at me. “Save them fucking tears, Markisha. From where I’m standing, you gave up on us the second you spread open your legs and let another man fuck you!”
I cringe. The word fuck…it sounds so dirty when he says it. And it is.
“I don’t believe this shit! I let you play me for a damn fool. I can’t believe I was fool enough to let you make me think I was going crazy. That you fucking around on me was all in my goddamn head. You stood there and lied in my motherfucking face without blinking an eye. And I was too fucking blind to see it. Too damn stupid to believe you’d do this to me, even though my gut told me something wasn’t right.” He stares at me, hard.
I swallow. “Craig, we can work through this. I know we can.”
His eyes go dark as he frowns, shaking his head. “We can’t work through shit. Not now. Whatever problems you felt we were having shoulda been worked on before you fucking cheated on me.” His jaw clenches.
“Craig, please. I can explain…”
“You can explain, what? How I caught your whoring-ass getting fucked from the back by some other motherfucker?! That you’ve been lying to me this whole fucking time?! That you’ve been playing me for some goddamn fool?!”
He stares at my hand. Sees my panties. The evidence of my dirty deeds is gripped tightly in my hand. Fire flashes in his pupils. “Bitch, you can’t explain SHIT to me! The proof is in your damn hand!”
Dick For Hire
“I know one thing. I hope you don’t plan on lying around this house all day. There are three bins of dirty clothes that need to be washed.”
“Aiight, yo. I got it.”
“Mmph. Well, since you don’t got a job. It’s the least you can do.”
“See. Here you go wit’ that slick shit again.”
“I ain’t talking slick. I’m talking facts.”
“Man, fuck outta here wit’ that dumb shit. I ain’t tryna hear that. You act like I ain’t out here lookin’ for work. You think I like sittin’ up in this muhfucka e’eryday?”
“I think you like playing Xbox, that’s what I think. And I don’t know what you’re looking for while I’m at work. But I know what I’m looking at when I run your pockets. Empty-ass pockets.”
“Man, why e’erything always gotta be about money wit’ you? You act like it’s my fault muhfuckas ain’t hirin’ me.”
“Well, maybe they would hire ya black ass if you stopped flopping around in Timbs ‘n’ hoodies, and got that haircut.”
“Man, fuck outta here. I ain’t cuttin’ my dreads.”
“Well, you ain’t gonna be laying up around here, either
. I don’t give a damn how good the dick is. Or how fine you think you are. I’m not gonna keep sucking and fucking a nigga who ain’t holding shit down. Sorry. But I’m not gonna keep supporting no grown-ass man.”
“Yo, Nivia, word is bond. Watch ya fuckin’ mouth, yo. Stop comin’ at me like I’m some lazy, bum-ass nigga, yo. You really comin’ at me crazy right now, like you been holdin’ shit down all along by yourself.”
“Nigga, if you’re sitting ya nasty ass up on my couch in ya drawz playing Xbox and eating cereal all damn day, burning up my electricity, while I’m out busting my ass, then if it acts like a bum-nigga, then it must be a bum-nigga.”
“Oh, word? Is that how you talkin’ now? So all I am to you now is some bum-nigga, huh? I wasn’t hearin’ you talkin’ all that dumb shit when I was out there hustlin’ ‘n’ shit, coppin’ you all them muthafuckin’ Louis bags and red bottoms ‘n’ shit you got stuffed in them fuckin’ closets. You wasn’t poppin’ shit when I dropped twenty-gees to get us this spot or put ya ungrateful ass up in that shiny, big-body whip you got parked out front.”
“Yeah, well, guess what? I wasn’t popping shit because you were bringing money up in here.”
“Yo, what the fuck?! So what you want me to do? Go back to sellin’ drugs? Is that it? I just did four muthafuckin’ years, yo. And I’m still on parole. So what the fuck is you sayin’, huh? I told you I was done wit’ that life. I’m not goin’ back to prison, yo. For you or anyone else. So if that’s the kinda muhfucka you want, then go out ‘n’ get ’im. Because I ain’t tryna be that muhfucka.”
“I didn’t say go out and start selling drugs again, nigga. And I’m not looking for one who does, dumb-ass. I’m looking for you to get a job. And keep one. Or at least act like you’re trying.”
“I am tryin’. Damn! What the fuck you want me to do, yo, huh? Put a gun up to a muhfucka’s head ‘n’ make ’em hire me? These cracker-ass muhfuckas ain’t tryna hire a felon. Period.”
“Nigga, you can get a job if you want to. I told you Wegmans is hiring. Did you go down there and put in the application like I told you to?”
