AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She looks over at Day’Asia. “Ma, I was gonna ask you if Tina could spend the night.”
I blink. “Ummm, noooooo, she may not. I’m ’bout to go out and I’m not gonna have her hot-pussy self up in here while I’m out. So c’mon, boo. Get ya shit. You comin’ with me.”
“Puhleeeeze, Ma, can she stay?”
“Please, Aunt Cass. I’m locked outta my house. I promise you won’t have any problems outta me.”
“Where’s ya mother at?” She tells me she’s out with Knutz. I roll my eyes. “And where’s Candy?” She shrugs. Says she’s not answerin’ her cell. That she hasn’t seen her all day. I huff, pullin’ out my cell. I scroll through my numbers, then press Dickalina’s. “Ho, where you at?”
“I’m out wit’ my boo.”
“Bitch, I ain’t ask you who you with. I wanna know where you at so I can drop Clitina there.”
“What? Oh, no. You ain’t about to fuck my night up. Me and my man is havin’ a nice romantic dinner down at Joe’s Crab Shack. Why she ain’t home?”
“Bitch, she ain’t home ’cause she’s here at my house and I’m gettin’ ready to go out.”
“Well, why can’t she stay there?”
“Ho, I told you I’m gettin’ ready to go out. What the hell I look like leavin’ two hot pussy hookers up in here? There’ll be in here tryna fuck all through my house. Oh, no, sugah boo. Day’Asia’s hot ass is enough to have to keep up with. I’m not about to be stressin’ over what the hell Clitina’s doin’ too while I’m out.”
“Well, she ain’t got no key. And me and Knutz aint’ gonna be home ’til late.” I tell her not to worry, then disconnect. I make Clitina get her shit, load her ass up in the car, then speed off in my truck toward the Garden State Parkway northbound toward Clifton.
When I get almost to our destination, I lower the radio, turn on the interior lights, then ask, “Clitina, you fuckin’, boo?”
She looks at me. “Ewwww, Aunt Cass, nooo.”
“Girl, don’t ewwww me. Are you ridin’ or suckin’ down on the dingaling?” She says no. But I know the lil’ ho’s lyin’ through her crooked-ass teeth. “Listen. You ain’t gotta lie to me. If you ho-in’ that’s you. But I’ma keep it real with you, sugah-boo. You ain’t movin’ right. The niggahs you toppin’ off and throwin’ the pussy to ain’t respectin’ ya ho, boo. The word on the street is, you, Candy, and Day’Asia are faster than Amtrak. Y’all lettin’ niggahs ride all through ya asses. Now you ain’t gotta say if it’s true or not. Just know, I know you a whore, boo. I can smell ya hot pussy a mile away, but that ain’t my business. Day’Asia’s stank pussy is. But I’ma say this, sugah. You need to cool ya jets and let the smoke settle out ya ass ’cause you sizzlin’ boo. And it ain’t cute. You understand me?”
She nods. “I do. But we ain’t really havin’ sex like that. I mean, we be chillin wit’ dudes, but we ain’t havin’ sex wit’ all of them.” I ask her what they be doin’. She says they drink and smoke with ’em.
“Clitina, boo. I know you half-retarded, but you much smarter than Candy ’cause she’s a full-blown retard. But there’s hope for you, boo. All you gotta do is shut ya legs, keep the dingalings outta ya throat, and get ya goddamn mind right. Instead of bein’ the bitch on fries, or askin’ to take a ho’s order, you can be the bitch givin’ orders. But you gotta wanna do better, boo. Otherwise you ain’t gonna be shit. You ain’t gonna be nothin’ but a ran down, broke-ass ho with dried up cum stains on ya pussy ’n face. Is that what you want for ya’self?” She shrugs. And I feel like smackin’ the shit outta her. “Bitch, what the fuck you shruggin’ for? You ’posed to know, boo. You ’posed to have a damn plan. Fuck for a purpose, not for a wet ass! Geesh. You young bitches got shit backwards.”
I pull into the parkin’ lot of the Crab Shack and feel like tellin’ this dumb bitch to get the fuck outta my truck, but I don’t. I keep it classy and walk her inside. I wait ’til I know she’s found Dickalina, then bounce. I don’t give a fuck about Dickalina screamin’ out my name, cussin’ and yellin’ about fuckin’ up her night and not havin’ room on Knutz’s bike to ride Clitina home. Not my motherfuckin’ problem.
I slip back behind the wheel of my truck, then press the CALL button on the steerin’ wheel. I wait for the voice to come through the speakers. “Wassup, ma?”
“I’m on my way to the club now.”
“Aiight, bet. I’ll be there.”
“Good. And then we gonna go somewhere and fuck real good, boo. My asshole wants another round of that long dingaling.”
He laughs. “I got you, ma.”
“Niggah, you better.”
Thirty-One
Thirty minutes later, I’m finally pullin’ up into the parkin’ lot of The Crack House. I freshen my lips with a coat of peach gloss, then step outta my truck. I’m hot like fire and about to shut the spot down. Can’t tell me shit, sugah-boo.
I see Slick up in the DJ booth, spinnin’ the beats. He winks at me when he sees me walkin’ through the club. I toss a hand up at him. “Amen” by Meeek Mill is playin’. I lightly bounce my way over to the bar ’cause I ain’t tryna sweat up my drawers just yet.
“Bad bitches in the buildin’ . . . Preach, godddammit . . . ” I finger pop it, hoistin’ my hips up on a barstool. “Big Mike,” I yell over the music, wavin’ him over to me. He smiles at me.
“Wassup, Cass, baby?”
“Wet my throat, niggah. What’s on the menu?” He tells me the drink specials are Blue Balls and I’ll Take Ya Man. I ask him what’s in the Blue Balls. He tells me Bombay Sapphire Gin, Blue Curacao and Grenadine. “Let me try that.”
