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She rolls her eyes, wavin’ me on. “Whatever. It ain’t no secret you love it in da ass. Shit da whole bar knows it.”
She starts diggin’ in her bag, then pulls out her phone. “Wait, wait. I want you to see sumthin’.” She starts scrollin’ through her cell, then hands it to me. I’m goddamn sick to my stomach. It’s a picture of her down on her knees holdin’ Knutz’s big-veiny dick with both hands, flickin’ her tongue over the head. And it’s a big ol’ light-skinned dingaling with a plum-sized head.
“See, girl, I ain’t lyin’. See how big my baby’s dick is?”
I frown, shovin’ her cell back at her. “You coon-booga bitch, how the fuck you gonna show me some nasty shit like that?” I reach over and snatch her glass. “Bitch, no more drinks for you.”
She starts laughin’. ‘Oh, Cassie, loosen up.”
“You know what, ho. Poof! I’m iggin’ ya ass for the rest of the night.”
“Cass, you just don’t know how good Knutz makes my body feel. I love me some Knutz, girl.”
“Mmmph. Well, good for you. I’m glad you love Knutz.” I let out a disgusted grunt when I see him walkin’ through the door. “Ugh, speakin’ of his no-good ass, here comes that nutty niggah now.”
She swivels her stool toward the door, then turns back to me grinnin’. “My baby must wanna get a few dances in wit’ me before takin’ me home to get some of this coochie.”
Lisa, one of the weekend bartenders, comes over to serve me. And the dirty, tr
ick-ass ho knows I don’t like her. I can’t stand a phony bitch. And she’s one of ’em. And why this ho can’t take the tips she makes and take her triflin’ ass on down to Nappy No More so Pasha can hook up her raggedy-ass weave is beyond me. How the fuck you gonna have a blonde weave and ya edges and roots are all jacked up? Mmmph.
“What can I get you, Cass?”
I stare at her, then tap Dickalina on the arm. “Lina, tell this bitch she can’t get me shit.”
Lina taps the bar, then says, “Bitch, you can’t get her shit. Wait, why can’t she? I need me another drink.”
“Well, then let her fix you one. But that bitch ain’t fixin’ me shit.”
“Fuck you, Cass,” Lisa says, stompin’ off to serve someone down at the other end of the bar. Bitch, puhleeze. What I look like? Her ass might try to drug me or spit in my damn drink. No, thank you. I’m not givin’ that ho a chance to ever do me in. I’ll wait all night for Big Mike to serve me if need be. Luckily, we didn’t have to wait too long.
Knutz walks over to us, drapin’ his thick arm around Dickalina’s shoulder. He whispers somethin’ in her ear. “Ooh, Knutz, baby,” she coos. “You know I love it when you talk nasty to me. You make me wanna do some thangs to you.”
I roll my eyes up in my head.
He eyes me. “Yo, wassup, Cass?”
I look him up and down. He’s wearin’ afro puffs with the colored rubberbands in his head. And has the nerve to have on a black and white Enyce polo shirt with a pair of Sean John baggy jeans. And a pair of black canvas and leather high-top sneakers on his feet with the Velcro straps and FUBU written on the sides. Mmmph. I can’t. Not with this jailhouse critter.
“Knutz, go kill ya’self, niggah.” I get up from my seat, grabbin’ bag and drink. “Lina, I’m goin’ to the bathroom. Hopefully his ugly ass will be dead when I get back.”
I go into the bathroom, check out how fabulous I look in the mirror, then swing my hips out the door, pullin’ out my cell as it vibrates. I glance at the screen. It’s JT’s goddamn ass. No thank you, niggah, I think, pressin’ IGNORE, then droppin’ the phone back in my bag. Three seconds later, my phone vibrates and I know the niggah is leavin’ me a text. Crazy ass!
Thirty-Six
Ten minutes later, I’m steppin’ outta the ladies room with a fresh coat of lip paint and gloss on my lips, swingin’ my hips when Big Grizzly steps outta the men’s bathroom. Our eyes meet. I grin at ’im.
“Yo, ma, what’s good wit’ you? You sexy as fuck.” I stop. “I was watchin’ how you bounce that ass up ’n down on the dance floor. You was poppin’ that shit like a champ. That shit is real right.”
I grin. “Glad you liked the show, boo.”
“Oh, no doubt, ma. You had my dick goin’ thru it. You definitely gotta niggah feelin’ like gettin’ into sumthin’ nice ’n wet tonight. Fuck what ya heard. You mad sexy wit’ it, too. What’s ya name?”
I eye his ass real easy-like, takin’ him all in. Oooh, he’s uglier than dog shit. But he’s over six-feet tall and smellin’ like expensive cologne and loads of dollars; just how Big Booty likes ’em. But that waist is a bit too extra for me. And judgin’ by the the lump in the front of his Gucci sweats, it looks like the gorilla’s hung like a beach whale. Is he fuckable? Yes, sugah-boo, if the price is right and with the lights out. I glance at the diamond pinky ring, the encrusted diamond watch, and the iced out chain around his thick neck. Oh, it’s definitely possible. Shit, I’ve fucked worse when I was tryna keep a roof over my head.
“It’s Cassandra.”
Oooga Bear licks his lips. “Oh, aiight. That’s wassup.”
