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Every so often I catch Julius cuttin’ his eyes down at the ring blingin’ on my finger, then lockin’ ’em on my titties, rememberin’—I’m sure—the last time I had his dingdong slidin’ in between these juicy cantaloupe-sized boobs. I flip my long weave over my shoulder like I’m the new ho for the next Pantene commercial.
“Miss Simms,” Miss Bitch says, eyein’ me, “as you are aware Mister Reeves has petitioned the court for residential custody of Joshua Simms? And it is my understandin’ that you have agreed to allow the said child to live with his fahver. Is that correct?”
I cut my eyes over at Julius. I feel like cussin’ him out. I bite my tongue. “No, I have not agreed to shit, boo.”
Julius shakes his head, sighin’. “Yo, Cass, stop. Joshua told me you told him he can come live with me so why are you sittin’ here tryna switch it up now?”
My heart aches. I wanna go upside his head so goddamn bad. “Nig . . . Julius, I never wanted you to take my . . . our son. But since you done got all up in his head tryna turn him against me, what was I gonna say, huh? You tryna do me, nig . . . Julius. And I don’t agree to this shit.”
Miss Bitch says, “Missus Simms, Mister Reeves has stated he is willing to allow you to have Joshua every other weekend and alternating holidays.”
I blink. “Bitch, I don’t care what he stated. I’m not an unfit mother and I’m not lettin’ him take my son from me. And I’m not sayin’ shit else until my lawyer gets here.” Of course I don’t really have a lawyer since I ain’t wanna spend my money on one. But if need be, I’ll shut this shit down to go scrape up one.
“Missus Simms, please let’s refrain from profanity and name-calling. This is a civilized arbitration hearing. There’s no need to be hostile.”
“Boo, I ain’t bein’ hostile. Hostile is when I go upside his head, then start tearin’ the courthouse up. Right now I’m lettin’ you know I ain’t interested in givin’ him custody of my son. Now, bitch, what part of that don’t you understand?”
“Our son, Cass, he reminds me as if I don’t know the niggah’a his fahver. “And I’m not tryna take Joshua away from you or turn him against you. I’m tryna give our son a better home environment.”
“Niggah-coon, boom! You talkin’ like I keep a filthy house and keep mice and roaches for pets. Joshua wants for nothin’, boo. And you know it. I don’t neglect him or any of my other kids, so don’t do me.”
“I’m not tryna do you, Cass. I’m tryna do what’s right for our son.”
I hop up from my seat and Miss Bitch jumps as if I’ma leap up on her. “Niggah, I’m not tryna hear it. You and”—I flick my finger over at Miss Bitch—“this bitch can both eat the inside of my asshole. Take this shit to the judge ’cause I ain’t givin’ over my son to you or no-goddamn-body else without a fight. And you know I love a good goddamn fight.”
“Alrighty then,” Miss Bitch says, gettin’ up from her seat. “Mister Reeves, looks like we’ll be bringing this matter before the judge since this is not something that can be handled amicably. Both of you can expect a court notice in the mail within seven to ten days.”
He shakes his head. “I told you she was difficult.”
“Niggah, ain’t shit difficult about me. I’m real easy-breezy and you know it. I ain’t never kept you from havin’ Joshua anytime you want him. I let you have him durin’ the summer months and on any holiday except Christmas mornin’ and Mother’s Day—and don’t look at me like I don’t goddamn know Mother’s Day ain’t no real holiday. You just pissed ’cause you gotta pay child support. You wasn’t even thinkin’ about Joshua ’til I said I was gonna take ya black ass back to court for more money. Now all of a sudden you want him. You work long hours, Julius. How the hell you gonna take care of him, huh?”
Miss Bitch cuts in. “I’m gonna let the two of you take a moment to try and hash this out on your own. Mister Reeves, we’ll be in touch.” She glances over at me. “Missus Simms—”
“Bitch, boom! Don’t say shit to me.”
Julius watches her scurry up outta here. He waits for the door to close. “Damn, Cass. Why you always gotta be so damn ghetto all the time? We in a courthouse, sitting with an officer of the court, and you can’t even control your damn mouth or your nasty-ass attitude.” He shakes his head. “Then you wonder why I want my son outta that house. You’re fuckin’ outta control, Cass.”
I tilt my head. “Niggah, you want outta control. Take my son from me and I’ma show you what outta control looks like, startin’ with this.” I pull out my cell, then press PLAY. The niggah’s face goes blank when he hears his voice. I play a recordin’ from one of our many times fuckin’ up in his police car and him fillin’ my ass up with the barrel of his gun while rammin’ his dick in my pussy.
“Damn, baby . . . you like it when I slide this gun in ya ass, huh? Nice phat, juicy ass. Look how that shit opens up for my gun, Cass . . . . you like ya ass stuffed . . . ?”
“Yessss, goddammit! Do me right, niggah. Oooh, yesss. Fuck me with that gun.”
“Yeah, baby . . . you wanna taste ya ass on my gun?”
I stop the recordin’. “And I have a whole lot others where that came from, niggah. And I got videos and photos, niggah, of you fuckin’ me in ya police car. Or did you forget that shit?”
“Yo, you a fuckin’ dirty bitch, Cass. You’d really try and blackmail me?”
“I don’t do blackmail, boo. I do what I gotta do to keep my son. And if you wanna keep ya job, I suggest you tell Joshua that you’ve changed ya mind. That you think it’s best that things stay the way they are. If not, I promise you. The Mayor, the Commissioner, the Police Chief, the Captain, Facebook, YouTube and every goddamn news channel will get copies of you fuckin’ me down in ya cop car and you lickin’ my ass juice off’a the barrel of ya own gun, boo. You ’posed to be on duty and you fuckin’ me, ha! Nigga-coon, boom! Fuck with me if you want, Julius.”
“Fuckin’ bitch!” he snaps, grabbin’ me by the arm. “You’d really try and fuck my career up?” He twists my shit. “Fuck with my job or my money, Cass, and . . . ”
“And what, niggah? What you gonna do, bitch?”
The muscles in his jaw twitch.
“Get ya motherfuckin’ hand off’a me!”
