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He sniffles and coughs. “Yes.”
I give him a hug. “You don’t ever pull a knife out on your brothers, or your sister, you hear me?” he nods. “If they fuck with you, you beat them with your fists. You save the knives for a motherfucka out in the streets, you understand?”
He nods again. “Yes.”
“Good. Now give me a hug and let’s go.”
I set the alarms, lock the double locks. Then head to the truck. I open the back passenger door and beat Tyquan’s ass for makin’ them late for school. “And if you go up in there and open your mouth, I’ma fuck you up some more. Now put your goddamn seatbelt on. I don’t know why you kids gotta make me get ghetto every fuckin’ mornin’.”
‘ ”Cause you are ghetto,” he says.
“Boy, I’ma ghetto my fist in your mouth if you keep talkin’ shit.”
I slam the passenger door, then hop into the driver’s seat. I start the engine and roll the windows down. Then frown when I realize somethin’s wrong with my truck. It’s drooping low in the back. What in the hell? I get out and check the rear tires and they’re flat. Someone has either slashed ’em or let the air out of ’em.
“Motherfuck!” I snap, grabbin’ my handbag and pullin’ out my cell.
“Mommy, what happened?” Fuquan wants to know.
“Someone flattened my goddamn tires.”
Tyquan laughs. “That’s what you get!”
“Boy, shut your damn mouth before I punch you in it,” I snap, waiting for Vernon’s ass to pick up.
“Yeah?”
“Motherfucka, I know you flattened my tires.”
He laughs. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”
“Laugh all you want, pussy motherfucka. But let’s see how funny you think shit is when I beat your bitch’s ass the next time I see her, okay? Then I’ma take a brick to your head. See you in court, niggah. Now laugh on that.” I disconnect.
“I hope my daddy jumps on yo’ ass,” Tyquan says, kicking the back of my seat.
I swing around in my seat. “I mean it, Ty. Shut your ass up before I reach back there and punch your motherfuckin’ front teeth in. I see why bitches be fuckin’ their kids up and settin’ their asses on fire and doin’ all other kinda crazy shit to ’em. You about to take me there in one hot second. Now kick my seat again and I’ma break your goddamn ankles. Now try me.”
Eleven
“Wassup, Cassandra?” Benji, the six-six, two-hundred-eighty-pound bouncer, says to me as he’s scannin’ me with the wand to make sure I’m not carryin’ heat. It’s Thursday night and The Crack House is about to be swarmin’ with dicks and hoes. And after the damn mornin’ I’ve had with my damn bad-ass kids I need to let it all hang loose. And anything’s likely to pop off up in here tonight. Thursday to Saturday it’s the only time they step up security and charge a twenty-five-dollar coverage charge. Ladies are free before ten. And I like being perched up at the bar facin’ the door to see who’s comin’ and goin’ before it gets packed. “We not gonna have any problems outta you tonight, are we?” His breath smells like hot shit.
I scrunch my nose up. “Niggah, damn. Whose funky ass you been eatin’?”
He frowns, givin’ me a confused look. “What?”
“Your mouth, niggah. Smells like somethin’ crawled up in it and died.”
He ignores me, repeatin’ himself. “Are you gonna be on your bullshit tonight, Cass?”
He’s talkin’ about the little situation that popped off up in here last month when I ended up havin’ to take it to some young ho’s head. This little, young messy, hot-in-the-ass ho jumped up in Dickalina’s face—I know, I know. The shit had nothin’ to do with me. Still, she started poppin’ off at the mouth real greasy; makin’ all kinda threats over some dumb shit that had to do with Knutz’s no-good ass.
“You ugly bitch,” she said in front of her little fan club—an entourage of about six hood rat bitches all in their early twenties. She had the neck-rollin’ and her fingers all up in Dickalina’s face. “Suck a dick and swallow! Knutz don’t want your dumb-ass, anymore. So you need to stop riding the niggah’s dick with your nasty, stretched-out-pussy self. Yeah, he told me how loosey-goosey you are. Knutz don’t even like fuckin’ ya old ass. Why? ’Cause he’s gettin’ all this young, tight pussy; somethin’ you wish you had. Now stay the fuck away from my man, Dickalina. Silly-ass bitch!”
That ho was really goin’ in on Lina like she had snatched herself the million-dollar door prize. And although, it didn’t have shit to do with me, I thought the whole thing was funny. ’Cause I knew, whether it was true or not, that Dickalina’s dumb ass was gonna believe whatever game Knutz spit outta his mouth. And she did; hence why she’s still with the no-good motherfucka.
“What the fuck you laughin’ at, bitch?” Miss Hot-in-the-Ass snapped, givin’ me the evil eye. “You can get it too, with ya ho-ass. Yeah, I know who you are with ya trampy ass.”
Wrong! Now it was obvious that the bitch hadn’t Googled me, or done her homework around here because had she, she woulda known that I am not the one to fuck with. So she had to get schooled. See. Unlike Dickalina, I’m not gonna go back and forth with some ho; especially some live firecracker. Nope. I’ma stomp her fire out real quick. And that’s exactly what I did when I reached over the bar and grabbed that bottle of Ciroc and took it to her damn head. She didn’t know what hit her until she hit the damn floor. I knocked her ass out, then turned around and finished drinking my drink. And I dared
