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“No, niggah. Since you only wanna play daddy when it’s convenient for ya ass, I’ma let you rent ya sons for the weekend. That’s what I’m sayin’. You’re three months behind in your child support. Pay up, or get lost.”
“Fuck! I’ma bring ya monkey-ass the goddamn money when I come pick them up on Friday. Have my muthafuckin’ sons packed and ready. And, first chance I get, I’m takin’ your grimy ass to court for custody, bitch.”
I laugh. “Coon, boom! Eat my ass, niggah. Ya bum ass don’t even wanna work. You’d rather mooch off some dumb bitch instead of gettin’ yo’ lazy ass a job. Niggah puleeze! Ain’t no judge givin’ you my sons. So eat shit and choke, niggah.”
He disconnects. I crack up laughin’, pressin’ my legs together. The niggah got my pussy hot talkin’ all reckless to me like that. I text JT back.
U GOT SUM $$ 4 ME?
Now watch he call, I think settin’ the phone on the step next to me. “Isaiah and Elijah, y’all stop dickin’ around hurry up and finish washin’ that truck.”
“We almost done,” Elijah says, chasin’ Isaiah with the hose around the other side of the truck. I shake my head, watchin’ them laughin’ and splashin’ soap suds everywhere.
My cell rings. It’s JT callin’ like I knew he would. “Yes?”
“Aye, yo, why e’erything gotta be ’bout fuckin’ money?”
“Niggah, ’cause you know the rules. You fuck me, you finance me.”
“Yeah, aiight. What time you gonna be free, yo?”
“I told you I’m not. If my sons’ fahvers come get them, then I might be . . . ” My voice trails off when I hear bells ringin’, soundin’ almost like an ice cream truck, and see some chick ridin’ up on the handlebars of a bike. Well, at first, that’s what I think I see ’til I realize the bitch ain’t sittin’ on handlebars. She’s posted up inside a big-ass wire basket with a black and pink helmet on. I squint. And almost fall out. It’s Dickalina. And Knutz is pedalin’ a Beach Cruiser bike up in my driveway. The bike is spray painted brown and the wheels are painted orange. And it has orange and white tassels hangin’ from the handlebars. And there are cards stickin’ outta the spokes of the wheels. Lil’Kim is playin’ outta a set of tiny speakers that are in the basket with Lina.
Knutz rings the bell again.
I blink.
OhmyGaaawd, I have seen-it-motherfuckin’-all now!
“Look, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah—”
I disconnect.
Knutz pedals on up to me, brakin’. “Hey, girl,” Dickalina says, holdin’ a clutch in her hand. I’m sure somethin’ she done picked up outta Marshalls or T.J. Maxx; her two favorite stores. I turn my nose up.
“Hey,” I say back, placin’ a hand up over my face like a visor, blockin’ the sun. I blink, blink again. This bitch has on a tiny denim mini-dress with no drawers on. And I can see her hairy pussy. And the bitch is wearin’ leopard print kitten heels. I’m too through.
“Ugh, bitch, you are so disgustin’,” I snap as she hops outta the basket. “How you gonna be all up on some bike in that short-ass dress? I can see all up between ya legs. And it ain’t sexy or cute. Ugh. Who keeps a hairy pussy? That is so triflin’.”
Isaiah and Elijah laugh. “Ewww, Miss Lina gotta furcoat on her vajayjay.”
“Don’t let me beat y’alls asses, goddammit,” I snap. “Finish washin’ that goddamn truck, then take yo’ fresh asses in the house and stay outta grown folk conversation. You goddamn kids too damn grown.”
Lina huffs, hoppin’ outta the basket. “Knutz likes it hairy.” She turns to him, pullin’ her helmet off. “Ain’t that right, boo?”
I peep the get-up he has on and wanna scream. The niggah is wearin’ a pair of camouflage carpenter pants and a black blazer over a green tank top. There’s a set of silver dog tags hangin’ around his neck. And wrapped around his waist is a goddamn nylon camouflage fanny pack. A fanny pack! What kinda niggah rocks a fanny pack? I glance down at his feet. He’s wearin’ a pair of crisp white K-Swiss with orange stripes. He has his hair all done up in zig-zag cornrows, too. Oh, this niggah just knows he’s doin’ it up real right.
He grins, liftin’ his black aviator shades up and sittin’ them up on his big-ass head. “Yeah, I love my baby’s kitten furry.”
“Aww, he’s so sweet.” She walks over and kisses him on the lips. I frown.
He eyes me, lickin’ his lips. “Wasssup, Cass?”
“Niggah, don’t speak to me.” I shift my eyes back to Lina. He shakes his head. “And why the hell are you out in them damn shoes?”
She looks down at her feet. “And what da hell’s wrong wit’ my heels? I see you have on da same damn things, but I guess it’s okay ’cause you da shit, huh? Cass, you make me sick wit’ ya hatin’-ass.”
