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He eyes me. “Damn, Cass. Why shit always gotta be about money with you? I’m tryna get some pussy.”
I laugh in his face. “Niggah, it’s always gonna be about money with me. And your deadbeat ass is already two months behind in your payments, so you might wanna make good on what you owe me tonight, or I’ma have you fucked up.”
“See. Here you go threatenin’ me with that shit again. And didn’t you have to do anger management twice already?”
“Threat? Boo-boo, you know I don’t make idle threats. I make promises. And I keep every one of ’em. And no, I ain’t do no goddamn anger management, niggah. I know how to manage my anger just fine. Now where’s my motherfuckin’ money?”
“Damn, cut a niggah some slack. Shit’s hard right now,” he says, reachin’ for me again. This time I let him pull me into him. Hell, the niggah has a nice hard body. “And so is this big-ass dick.” He presses it into me, grabbin’ my ass.
I slap his hands down, narrowin’ my eyes. “Stop with the lies. I know your ass is workin’. D
on’t have me drag you into court for child support.”
He eyes me, raisin’ a brow. “Damn, you’d do me like that when you know I’m already on that shit with my other baby mothers?”
“Your other baby muhvers and your five other chil’ren ain’t no concern of mine. My sons are.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“No, you’re fucked up.”
“Yeah, aiight. Whatever. I wanna see my sons.”
“Oh, now all of a sudden you wanna see your sons. Just a few minutes ago all you cared about was gettin’ that dick handled.”
“Yeah,” he huffs, “until you fucked up the mood with ya bullshit. Now, fuck it. Let me see my sons. And I’m out.”
“Niggah, stand in line. You ain’t seein’ them tonight. Not unless you peelin’ off my money. I shouldn’t have to keep goin’ through this shit with you, Vernon. Your sons don’t live off of air. It takes money to feed and clothe them and to keep a roof over their heads. I shouldn’t have to use my other kid’s child support checks to feed your sons, niggah.”
He sucks his teeth. “Well, no one told ya ass to have a buncha babies.”
I blink. “And no one told you to poke holes in the goddamn condoms, either. But that didn’t stop you, now did it, motherfucka?”
“See. Here you go with the okey doke. If you didn’t wanna be pregnant, then you shoulda had an abortion. But you didn’t. So stop talkin’ all that dumb shit. I ain’t tryna hear all that, Cass. You know like I do you wanted to be knocked up.”
This niggah’s crazy!
“Niggah, get a grip. You punched holes in the goddamn condom, tryna trap a bitch.”
“Yeah, whatever. You still coulda got ya guts scraped out if you didn’t want any more kids. So save that shit. Let me see my sons, Cass.”
I decide to let him think what he wants. I am not in the mood to argue with his nutty ass about this shit again. Not tonight. I glance down at my watch. It’s a little after ten. “Uh, I don’t think so. It’s a school night. And you don’t have my money. So if you wanna see your sons . . . you know, the ones you think I shoulda aborted, then you need to bring your ass around here at a decent hour and come with my goddamn money. Now either hand over my shit so I can ride down on your face real quick. Or get the fuck on and stop wastin’ my time.”
“Aiight, aiight, damn. I’m only fuckin’ with you,” he says, diggin’ in his pocket and pullin’ out a handful of bills. He hands them to me. “Here, this is all I got on me until next week.”
I count out what he’s given me, then count it again. All ones! “What the fuck is this shit?”
He frowns. “What the fuck it look like? It’s money.”
“No, niggah. It’s bullshit. And it looks like you tryna play me. That’s what it looks like to me.”
He huffs, shakin’ his head. “See. This shit right here is why ya ungrateful ass can’t keep a man.”
“Niggah, what the fuck you think thirty-seven motherfuckin’ dollars is gonna do for your sons? Not a goddamn thing!”
He frowns. “Then give the shit back. That’s the problem with you stupid bitches, you ain’t ever satisfied.”
I slap him. “Get the fuck off my property.”
