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any other bitch to say another motherfuckin’ word sideways to me, at me, or anywhere around me. They didn’t. They dragged that bitch on up outta here and went on about their business.
I suck my teeth. “Niggah-bitch, how am I supposed to know? Do you see a crystal ball growin’ outta my forehead?”
He laughs. “Yeah aiight. Take ya evil ass on, wit’ ya sexy self. But don’t have me toss ya ass up outta here tonight, Cass.”
“Then make sure you keep them slimy bitches you let up in here in check,” I say over my shoulder.
“I’m dead-ass. You start any shit tonight and your ass is gonna get banned from comin’ up in here. You always wait until the weekends when I’m working to start shit up.”
“Well, it’s Thursday, niggah. The weekend doesn’t start until tomorrow night. Dumb-ass.”
“Yo, you know what the fuck I mean.”
“Whatever, Shit Breath. I do what I do. If a bitch steps outta pocket, you already know I’ma tear this motherfucka up. You should know by now I don’t mind gettin’ arrested, or goin’ to jail. I’ll be bailed out before the ink dries. So save your energy. Just lock nine-one-one on speed dial, and do what you gotta do.”
He shakes his head, wavin’ the dude who was in back of me up to get frisked. A double-chinned chick with bad skin and a fucked-up weave is sittin’ behind the bulletproof glass, eyein’ me. I stop in front of the booth and open up my bag, fishing out a card. I slide it to her. “Sweetie, you need to hit up my girl, Pasha, down at Nappy No More and let her handle that weave. ’Cause that mess you got goin’ on is dead wrong, sugah-boo.” She rolls her eyes, buzzin’ me in. Oh, well. I tried.
As soon as I walk through the door Maino’s “Million Bucks” starts playin’. Whew, every time I hear this shit it makes me wanna lick all over them sexy tats on his body and fuck the skin off his dick. “Aaah, shit . . . ” I snap my fingers and pop my hips through the door.
“Damn, do that shit, ma,” one of the regulars sittin’ at a table not too far from the door yells over the music. “You workin’ that shit, baby.”
“Whew, goddamn! She gotta ass on her,” I hear someone else say. I glance over my shoulder and see that it’s a niggah I ain’t never seen before. From what I can see, he’s a tall, brown-skinned niggah, rockin’ a pair of baggy jeans, a red and white striped button-up with a red fitted on his head and Timbs on his feet.
I spin around and give them a little extra treat, shakin’ it all fast and nasty-like. He’s sittin’ at a table with two other niggahs. They howl and clap, egging me on.
Buddha spots me as I dance. I pretend I don’t see his frontin’ ass. Niggah still hasn’t called me. And all that does is make me wanna get in his boxers even more. He’s sittin’ up at the bar, alone. It’s still kinda early so there are still a lot of seats empty around the bar. Buddha’s eyes roam my body as I dance, stoppin’ every so often to twirl my hips, then booty clap it a bit. Once it gets packed up in here, I’ll turn it up on blast and really work the floor. And by the end of the night I’ll have every motherfucka up in here droolin’. And ready to make it rain up in this bitch. I always do.
As the music fades, I pop my hips over to the bar, sittin’ my Chanel bag—compliments of another one of my young sponsors—up on the bar.
“What’s good, Ms. Simms?” he asks as I saunter over to him. “You lookin’ real good tonight. How you?”
I ease up on the barstool, then lean into him. “I’m good; very good. But you wouldn’t know that ’cause you keep runnin’ from me.”
He laughs. “Nah. I’m not runnin’, ma.”
I roll my eyes. “Niggah, quit. When you gonna stop playin’ games and lick my pussy and eat this ass?”
“Nah, no games, Ms. Simms; real shit. I’m sayin’ . . . you sexy as fuck. But I told you I don’t want no heat from Jah. Even though we ain’t cool like that anymore, me and Jah used to be mad tight, feel me? I mean, if you wasn’t his moms, I’d definitely be wit’ it.”
“No, that’s what I’m tryna do. Feel that dick. And I already told you Jah’mel’s ass is locked up. So what that got to do with you and me? Besides, he ain’t my pussy’s keeper. And what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
He nods his head. “True, true. But you know muhfuckas stay runnin’ they mouths.”
“Well, they can’t run their mouths unless a muhfucka’s givin’ them somethin’ to tell.
He grins. “True.”
“Whatever, muhfucka,” I say, playfully mushin’ him in the side of his head. “You actin’ like you’re scared of pussy.”
“Nah, never that.”
“Well, then you’re scared of all of this pussy?
“Oh, damn. You think?”
“Niggah, I know.”
“Yeah, aiight. I already told you what it was. What you drinkin’ tonight?”
