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“On e’erything I love,” he tells me.
“Awwww, damn,” I say, pausin’. I’m still tryna absorb what he’s said. “Nigga, you serious?”
“You heard me. I had my other phone line disconnected, shut down my BlackPlanet and Myspace pages, and closed all my porn site accounts.”
“Damn, dude. Sounds like she put that cock clamper down on ya.”
He laughs. “Yeah, I can’t front. My baby shut shit down, son. Gotta nigga thinkin’ ’bout the future ’n shit, something I never did before. Real talk, it’s a wrap, son. A nigga’s done fuckin’ wit’ all that pussy chasin’.”
“Yo, son, you talkin’ ’bout givin’ up a smorgasbord of hot pussy at ya disposal. You sure you wanna walk away from it?”
“Yo, most def. On some real shit, man. I’d be thrashin’ that ass and bustin’ shit down and after I finished nuttin’, I’d still want something more.”
I laugh. “Like what, nigga, more pussy?”
“Nah, my dude,” he says, pausin’. “Well, at first, yeah. I thought that’s what it was. But, once a muhfucka took a hard look at himself and got honest, I realized it wasn’t the pussy I wanted more of. It was more of someone; maybe not that particular someone. But definitely someone I could vibe with, and one day build with, feel me?”
Keepin’ shit real, I couldn’t relate to shit he was sayin’. Not that I didn’t want to, I just wasn’t able to. Wantin’ sumthin’ other than pussy, head and a ho’s paper wasn’t ever anything I gave thought to. Nor has it ever been sumthin’ that consumed me. Fuckin’ a broad, yeah; buildin’ wit’ her ass, nope!
I say, “I hear you. But, yo, man…I’m shocked as hell hearin’ this shit come from outta ya mouth, for real, yo.”
He chuckles. “Man, listen…I’m shocked my damn self. On some real shit, I never thought I’d ever feel
this way ’bout a chick. But, Coletta’s different. She holds a nigga down. She’s loyal, and the best part is, I know she loves a nigga.”
The way he talks, he sounds happy as hell. And on some real shit, I find myself smilin’—happy for my nigga, too. “That’s wassup,” I tell him. “I’m happy for you, man.”
“’Preciate that, playa. Don’t worry, your turns comin’, dawg.”
“Not if I can help it,” I tell ’im. “I like my freedom too much.”
“Yeah, aiight, muhfucka. Talk that shit now. You just haven’t run up on the right one, yet.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, nigga. So what’s next?” I ask, changin’ the subject.
“Actually, that’s the reason I was callin’ you. I’ma ask my girl to marry me on Christmas Eve. And I want you as my best man when we tie the knot.”
My mouth drops open. “Say word, nigga!”
“Word on e’erything I love.”
“Damm,” I say. “You go ghost ’n shit for months, then pop up outta nowhere full of surprises.”
He laughs. ”Whatever, muhfucka. You wit’ me on this or what?”
“No doubt, dawg. I got you.”
“That’s what it is. I knew I could count on you.”
“No doubt. You know how we do.”
“Mos def. Listen, I gotta dip. I’ma hit you up in a couple of weeks.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I say jokin’ly. “Muhfucka, the last time you said that shit, I ain’t hear from ya pussy-whipped ass for almost six months.”
“Don’t be jealous, baby,” he says, laughin’. “You know you still my number one nigga. But I rather be pussy whipped than havta be stuck fuckin’ with ya ugly, black ass.”
“Fuck outta here wit’ that bullshit,” I say, crackin’ up. “Let me borrow ya grandmother for a few days, then let’s see how ugly and black she thinks this dick is.”
