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“Believe it. My oldest is twenty-three.”
“Daaaaayum. You look mad young, ma. And that body’s right.”
“Of course it is, niggah. Now what you want? And what kinda paper you spendin’ to get it?”
Fuquan’s bad ass comes outside from around the back of the house on his skateboard without wearin’ his helmet. Now usually I’d scream on him, but I’m keepin’ it classy. I sweetly tell him to take his nosey-ass back inside and put on his helmet.
“Awww, man. I’m not gonna hurt myself.”
“Fu, don’t do me, boo. Get yo’ ass in that goddamn house and get that helmet on.”
He looks over at Cash. “Do you live at the zoo?”
I blink.
Cash chuckles. “Nah, lil’ man. Why you ask?”
I hold my breath. Shoot him a look, warnin’ him to keep his fresh mouth shut. But he acts like he don’t see me and says, “ ’Cause you look like a gorilla.”
I snatch my shoe off and throw at him, screamin’, “Boy, what I tell you ’bout ya goddamn mouth?! Get ya black ass in the goddamn house before I fuck you up! You too goddamn grown!”
Fuquan takes off runnin’ ’n laughin’. I hear Isaiah laughin’, too. I swing open the front door, then walk into the house. “Isaiah, I’ma fuck you up. I know you put his black ass up to that shit.”
He starts laughin’. “Unh-uh. He did it on his own. But he do look like a gorilla.”
I bite my tongue from laughin’ too. “Oooh, I’ma fuck y’all up. You know better than to do me like this.”
“Well, he is ugly.”
“See. Now you bein’ messy. I know he is. And he knows he is, too. But you ain’t supposed to remind nobody of how ugly they is. It’s rude and disrespectful. The uglies can see their ugliness on their own. They don’t need you throwin’ it up in their faces. Don’t do that shit again. Now get away from that goddamn window ’fore I bust ya eyeballs out.” I sit the box on the sofa, then walk back outside. I narrow my eyes when I see Fuquan back on his skateboard with his Captain America helmet on. He got the nerve to be grillin’ Cash, like he my damn man.
“Why you here? You tryna do it to my mommy?”
Cash laughs. “Nah, lil’ man. Ya moms cool peoples.”
“Well, you better not try ’n touch her cootie-coo or me and my brothers gonna jump you.”
“Fu, don’t have me punch you in ya goddamn throat. And you better apologize to Mister Cash for bein’ disrespectful.”
He folds his arms, then takes off on his skateboard when I come down the steps after him. I tell him his ass’s gonna be on punishment.
“Yo, it’s all good. Lil’ man’s cool. How old is he?” I tell him eight. That he has a twin brother. “Daaayum, so you stay busy.”
“Somethin’ like that. But they mine. And I don’t regret havin’ ’em.”
He grins, eyein’ me. “That’s wassup. Yo, check this out. You sexy as fuck, ma. I ain’t gonna hold you ’cause I know you prolly got mad shit to do. But I wanna take you out, real shit. And if you ain’t gotta babysitter, it’s all good. I’ll take them too.”
I blink. Ain’t no niggah ever offer to take me and my kids out anywhere. I look around to see where Fuquan is. When I don’t see him in the yard, I say, “Look, boo. I ain’t gonna lie, you ain’t really my type in the face, but I liked how that big juicy dick felt in my hands and you got paper that makes my pussy drool. Now I appreciate you offerin’ to take me and my kids out, but I ain’t no ghetto bitch who lets any ole niggah around her kids like that. I’m classy with my shit, niggah. I gotta feel like I can trust you. I ain’t tryna have no niggah up around my kids who’s gonna be tryna fuck ’em or abuse ’em.”
“Yo, that’s wassup. I can dig it. That’s how you ’posed to be. Trust me, ma. I ain’t into fuckin’ lil kids. I’ma freak, not a pervert, ma. And I ain’t into abusin’ kids. If they outta pocket, I’ll snatch ’em up real quick, but that’s about it.”
“Well, I still ain’t lettin’ you around my kids. And I don’t want you comin’ back over here unannounced, or uninvited.”
He grins, noddin’ his head. “You got that, ma.” He digs in his back pocket and pulls out a black leather card holder, then hands me a card outta it. “Check it. Here’s my card. I own a few detail shops throughout da tri-state area. Come through and let me take care of ya whip . . . on me. And anything else you need, I got you.”
I raise a brow. Tilt my head. “Anything?”
“Yeah, anything. I’ma muhfucka who gets shit done, ma. Check for me, and you’ll see for ya’self. I’m out.”
