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“Wassup, Cass? How you?”
I blink, walkin’ through Bloomingdale’s. “What you mean, ‘how you’? Niggah, I’m broke. And I ain’t seen no child support money from you for your daughter—you do know who that is, right?—in almost two goddamn years.”
He sucks his teeth. “Here you go wit’ this shit. Yeah, I know who my daughter is.”
“Well, ain’t that special,” I say, stoppin’ at the perfume counter. “ ’Cause she sure as hell”—I take a whiff of Jimmy Choo, turnin’ my nose up—“don’t know who the fuck you is.” I pick up a bottle of Signorina by Ferrragamo. “She hasn’t heard from you or seen you in almost three years, niggah. She’s sixteen now, niggah-bitch, with big-ass titties bustin’ outta the seams”—I spritz a lil’ on my wrist and sniff—“and a hot-ass pussy that needs constant supervison.” Oooh, this is nice. The bitch behind the counter with the pressed powder caked up on her face shoots me a look. I shoot her one back. “Can I help you, Casper?” She shifts her eyes. “Then stay outta my goddamn mouth . . . ”
“What? I’m not in your mouth. Well, unless you want me to be.”
“Niggah, puhleeze. I wasn’t talkin’ to you. And that lil’ burnt-up dick of yours will never feel the inside of my mouth. So don’t even do me, niggah. So why is you callin’ me?”
“I know I fucked up, Cass. Shit’s been hectic. I’ve been all cased up and I ain’t makin’ money like I used to. But I have a few dollars put up for you. I wanna do right by you and DaNaqueesha.”
I pick up a bottle of Viva La Juicy by Juicy Couture. I sniff. Miss Juicy has always been one of my signature scents, along with Clinique Happy, Dior Me, Dior Me Not, and Gucci Envy. Oooh, this is cute. I decide to buy a bottle of it for Day’Asia.
“Niggah, who the fuck is a DaNaqueeta? The daughter you have with me is Day’Asia. Stupid bitch, how you not gonna know ya own daughter’s name?”
“Damn, I meant Day’Asia. DaNaqueesha—not DaNaqueeta, is my other daughter. I got ’em mixed up. You know I know who my daughter is wit’ you.”
Shit, I ain’t even know the niggah had other kids. Then again, I didn’t give a damn if he
did or not, which is why I never asked. Shit, I was only with his ass for two months before I found out I was pregnant. And it was over between us by the time Day’Asia was three weeks old.
“Mmmhmm. And how old is this lil’ chick?” He tells me she’s thirteen. That she lives in Paterson with her mother. “Mmmph. So you was raw pumpin’ that lil’-ass dick every which way, huh?”
I peep Miss Powder Puff lingerin’ around the counter so she can get an earful. I decide to entertain her nosey ass. “I wish that lil’ piggy-dick of yours wasn’t all burnt up. I’d let you run it in my ass like old times.” I glance over at Miss Powder Puff. “Remember how it used to feel gobbled up inside my asshole?”
Miss Powder Puff blushes.
His voice dips low. “Daaaamn, we used to have some good sex. I still think about all the nasty shit we used to do. Cass, I really shoulda stayed wit’ ya freaky ass.”
When I was with this niggah it was all good for the first four months, then his ass started gettin’ too caught up in the streets, grindin’ ’n hustlin’ and tryna sling that lil’-ass dingaling all around Jersey. Ain’t no way a bitch like me was puttin’ up with that shit. I don’t care how much paper you puttin’ out, I’m not gonna lay around waitin’ for you to bring me home no disease. Oh no. That niggah had to go; especially when he had bitches bangin’ on my door tryna bring it to me. Puhleeze. What the fuck I look like, fightin’ over some niggah with a pencil dick? Them hoes had the wrong one. If I’ma fight some bitch over a niggah, trust, it’s gonna be over one with a horse dick. And even then I still might tell the ho she can have him. Big Booty don’t sweat no niggah, boo. Never have, never will.
I laugh. “Niggah, puhleeze. No, you shouldn’t have. I’m glad ya cheatin’ ass dipped. But I’m not gonna lie, niggah. You did feel good in my ass. But that’s it. I couldn’t suck the dick and I couldn’t feel it in my pussy. Sorry, boo, that lil’ dick of yours bored the shit outta me. I woulda never stayed faithful to ya ass, niggah. So it was best you ran off and fucked that barracuda bitch with them big-ass teeth.”
“Damn, that’s cold.”
“Oh, well,” I say, tellin’ Miss Powder Puff to give me a bottle of Juicy and two bottles of Signorina. “So why is you callin’ me?”
“I wanna see you and Day’Asia.”
“Niggah, you can see Day’Asia if she’s beat for you, but I ain’t on the menu. The only thing I wanna see is some goddamn child support money. Where you stayin’ now, anyway?” He tells me in Philly with some bitch he met on Facebook. This niggah’s pathetic. “Mmmph, what happened to Barracuda?”
He sighs. “I don’t wanna talk about that shit. It ain’t work out.”
I crack up, handin’ Powder Puff two hundred dollars. “See, niggah. I already know what popped off. You let the bitch jail off you for them two years, then when she got out she traded ya ass in for some prison pussy. Some butch-dagger ho with a dick bigger than yours turned her ass out. Oooh, I know that musta tore ya spirits down. A bitch leavin’ you for a ho with a clit bigger than ya dick. Mmmph. A mess, boo.”
I can tell I done got the niggah hot. Oh well. Fuck him! He sucks his teeth. “I see some shit ain’t ever gonna change. You still a bitch.”
“I sure am . . . ” I pause, blinkin’ when Miss Powder Puff places my change down on the counter instead of in my hand. “Look, I gotta go. If you wanna see your daughter call me later tonight, and I’ll let the two of you work it out.”
“Aiight. I’ll—”
I end the call and go off on Casper. “Ho, I handed you two hundred goddamn dollars, you pasty face bitch. And you shoulda put my motherfuckin’ change in my hand. You don’t toss no motherfuckin’ money at me, like I’m ghetto trash.”
She quickly apologizes. “I-I-I didn’t mean to offend you. It was clearly not intentional.”
“Bitch, I am offended. And it’ll be intentional when I snatch that goddamn blonde wig off ya head and beat your face up for tossin’ my money down on the counter. I want my motherfuckin’ change put in my goddamn hand.” By now we have an audience, and I don’t give a fuck. “Bitch, I wanna see a manager, now! You white bitches stay tryna fuck our men, then wanna act like you better than us. I ain’t ya slave or ya housekeeper, ho. And if I was, bitch, I’d be fuckin’ ya goddamn husband and runnin’ his pockets.”
