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He lets my arm go. “Fuckin’ crazy bitch,” he snaps, swingin’ open the door, then walkin’ out. Just because this niggah’s a cop, bitches think his ass is squeaky clean. Well, here’s a goddamn newsflash for ya asses: Julius Reeves is just as crooked and dirty as his motherfuckin’ lil’ piggy-dicked partner. And he knows I know it better than anyone else. Let him go through with this
custody shit. And I’ma drag his drawers for all to see.
I smile, walkin’ out. I head toward the bank of elevators, decidin’ to go up to the Prosecutor’s Office to have a friendly chat with Lance Jefferson, one of the assistant prosecutors and past sponsors. Maybe I’ll suck his dick for old time’s sake; maybe I won’t. Right now I need to ensure Julius doesn’t get custody of Joshua. By any goddamn means necessary. And if Prosecutor Jefferson can’t help me, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to find me someone who will. After all, I have dirt on his married ass, too.
Nigga, boom-boom! Fuck with me if you want.
Twenty-Four
“Bitch, why you ain’t called me?” Dickalina screams into my ear the minute I answer my cell. This ho is so damn ghetto and loud. It makes no kinda sense. “I ain’t talk to you in three damn days. Don’t get cute, bitch, ’cause you done got ya ass some new silky yak hangin’ down ya back. And I heard you done dyed ya shit blonde. Priscilla’s sister Princess told me she seen’t you comin’ outta ShopRite the other day and you acted like you was too cute to speak.”
“Well, I was. And I am. Shit, what the hell I wanna speak to her for? That ugly bitch looks like shit on a stick. Other than her havin’ the same baby daddy as me . . . and I still don’t see what the fuck he saw in her ass. It must have been one of them late-night, drunk fucks ’cause that bitch’s ass is up on her back and she looks like her pussy stinks, but whatever. That bitch and me don’t have a damn thing in common.” I grunt, shakin’ my head. “I should smack the shit outta her ass next time I see her for runnin’ back reportin’ to you like you my damn man. Tell that bitch I said to eat a dick and mind her goddamn business.”
She laughs. “Girl, whatever. You still ain’t say shit about why you ain’t called me today? Why I gotta always call you?”
“Dickalina, puhleeze, boo. Tell me you done smoked dope today ’cause you talkin’ real retarded right now. I ain’t call you ’cause, bitch, I didn’t feel like talkin’ to ya ass.”
She sucks her teeth. “Then why the fuck you answer the phone, ho?”
“Girl, you know, I’m real with my shit. I rather tell you to ya face, than roll you over into voicemail.”
“OMG, fuck you, Cass. I can’t stand ya ass sometimes. Anyway, you wanna run out for a few drinks tonight?”
I roll my eyes up in my head. “Bitch, are you a drunk?”
“Hell no!”
“Then there’s ya answer. I was just out with ya black ass a few nights ago.” Shit, Lina’s my damn girl, but tonight I just want to get my drink on and chill and not have to hear her complainin’ and whinin’ about havin’ to get home to Knutz’s dumb ass. The niggah tells her she can go out, then texts her half the goddamn night, stressin’ her about when she’s comin’ home. Who the fuck does that shit? A crazy-ass, insecure niggah, that’s who!
My last six baby daddies tried to keep leashes on me like that and all that shit did was piss me off. And eventually dismiss their black asses. Shit, three of my baby daddies sadly thought I was gonna be their personal boxin’ bags ’til I showed them I wasn’t the one to be puttin’ your hands on. I don’t give a fuck if I have to fuck a niggah to sleep real good, first, then slice his ass. You better ask somebody. Baby Daddy Number Two, Darryl, got stabbed.
Then Baby Daddy Number Three, Marcellus, got bit in his face for tryna do me. Still to this day, that niggah’s walkin’ around with my teeth marks stamped on the side of his face. And Baby Daddy Number Four, Mustafa, got hand sanitizer slung in his eyes, then hit in the face with a bat and got his nose broke and his jaw cracked. That niggah couldn’t see, chew, or breathe by the time I finished with his ass.
Anywho . . . back to Dickalina. “Look, girl. Tonight I’m just gonna chill, so I’ll catch up with you later. Right now I need to get up off this phone and get dinner started before all these kids get home.”
“Uh-huh . . . well, if you change your mind, let me know.”
I don’t respond. I simply end the call. I glance up at the clock. It’s almost three o’clock. I pull my hair up into a ponytail, then change into somethin’ more comfortable so I can get dinner started. I don’t give a damn what a bitch says about me, but what you won’t ever say is that my kids don’t have a hot, homecooked meal almost every night, or that they come home to an empty house. Nope. I see my kids off in the mornin’, and I’m here to greet their asses when they walk back through these doors after school. Now what I do at night after their homework is done and they’ve had their baths is my goddamn business. But I always take care of home first.
The twins swing open the door, first. “Mommmmmy!” Fuquan screams as he storms through the house.
“Boy, don’t come in here with all that noise,” I yell out while rinsin’ dishes and stackin’ the dishwasher. “I’m not in the mood!”
He stomps into the kitchen. “That stupid ho makes me sick!”
I crane my neck to look at him. “Boy, what I tell you about callin’ people hoes?”
“Well, she is a ho.”
I dry my hands and turn to face him. “Who?”
“Missus Sweeney,” Tyquan answers as he walks in behind his brother. Mrs. Sweeney is one of the bus aides who sit on their school bus.
“Mind your business, punk,” Fuquan snaps. “She ain’t ask you.”
“Well, I told her anyway, punk!”
I take a deep sigh. “Look, don’t y’all start your shit. Come here and give me a hug,” I say, walkin’ over to them. Tyquan hugs me and gives me a kiss, then goes off to his room. But Fuquan’s temper is flared up so high, he isn’t interested in hugs or kisses. “Boy, give me a damn hug before I floor your ass.” He reluctantly does. I kiss him on the cheek and he wipes it off. I ignore his evil ass. “I still love you, anyway. Now tell me what Missus Sweeney did. And watch what you say ’cause I don’t wanna have to punch you in ya goddamn mouth. You kids’ mouths are too damn fresh.”
