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Yeah, I learned a lesson, aiight. I learned to only fuck wit’ outta-state hoes from now on. I decide to keep that shit to myself. “I had no business bringin’ that drama up in ya spot, Pops.”
“You got that right,” Moms adds. “And you shoulda never put your hands on that girl.”
“And you right,” I agree, sighin’. “But she threw her hands up, first. Then she bit me. So she got what she got. I don’t feel good ’bout it, but it is what it is.”
“Still doesn’t make what you did right. You’re lucky she hasn’t filed complaints on you.”
“Ma, listen. The only thing I regret is that it happened up in Pops’ crib. Other than that, had she kept her hands to herself, I wouldna lumped her up.”
Moms opens her mouth to say sumthin’ else, but Pops reaches over and squeezes her arm. She pulls in her bottom lip. Lets it go, for now. “Tell us about this Ramona gal,” Pops says, changin’ the subject. “Your mother told you she stopped by the house looking for you, right?”
“Yeah, she told me earlier today. There’s really nuthin’ to tell. We kicked it for a minute. I sexed her down. She was too clingy. I dismissed her. That’s it. And now she’s claimin’ to be pregnant. But it’s not mine. Then I learn today that that desperate broad was punchin’ holes in the condoms.” Pops shakes his head. Moms stares at me. “I’m tellin’ ya’ll she’s a real nutcase.”
“And you did nothing to create this mess?” Moms asks, shiftin’ in her seat. I can tell she’s ready to get it started. It’s probably givin’ her flashbacks of that shit wit’ Pops, too.
Yeah, I stuck my dick in the wrong bitch! “The only thing I did was cut off her cum supply. I didn’t make her any promises. And I warned her over and over again to not get caught up in me. But she did. And that’s on her.”
“Son,” Pops says, “I’m not tryna tell you what to do, but you need to slow down. Or you’re gonna end up with a lot more than just a baby on your hands.”
“Well, let’s hope it’s not his,” Moms states.
“It’s not,” I tell ’em both, gettin’ up. I’ve had enough of this wit’ them. I know if I stay any longer, it’s gonna turn into a lecture hall. I glance at my watch. I’ve been here thirty minutes already. “Listen, I gotta get goin’.” I walk over and give Moms a kiss on the cheek, then give Pops a pound and a hug. “Take care of ya’self, old man. I’ll hit you up sometime tomorrow to check in on ya.”
“Aiight, talk to you then.”
“Come by for dinner tomorrow night,” Moms says.
“I can’t,” I tell her, grinnin’. “I’ma be somewere laid up.”
She rolls her eyes. Pops chuckles. They both shake their heads, watchin’ me dip out the door.
33
Damn, I can’t believe it’s December already. And on some real shit, I can’t wait for this year to be fuckin’ over. Man, listen, the last two-and-a-half weeks have been hectic as hell. First, Ramona’s nutty-ass has been callin’ me nonstop and she’s gone back over to Pops, again, supposedly lookin’ for me. After I told the bitch I no longer live there. Then she went to the police and told a muthafuckin’ bold-faced lie, talkin’ ’bout I threatened to throw her over a cliff, if she didn’t get rid of her baby. What kinda shit is that? And them dumb muhfuckas believed her. I wouldna known shit if Pops hadn’t called me tellin’ me I had to go to the police station ’cause they were lookin’ for me. And then when I get there, them bastards talkin’ ’bout I’m bein’ charged wit’ terroristic threats. Terroristic threats? Can you believe that shit?! I told them muthafuckas, “I never threatened that crazy bitch!” But they still charged me wit’ the shit and told me I’d haveta take it up wit’ the judge. So thanks to that delusionl ho, a muhfucka had to be dragged into Union County Municipal Court; all because some bitch got her panties in a bunch ’cause a muhfucka didn’t wanna keep feedin’ her his dick. Do you know how embarrassin’ it is to be all up in court wit’ a buncha muhfuckas and havin’ all of ya business aired out in the open? The shit’s fucked up. Lucky for me—twenty-five hundred dollars later and almost three hours of testimony and cross-examinin’—the shit got dismissed two days ago ’cause the bitch was all over the place wit’ her story.
And then fuckin’ Sherria’s unstable ass was harassin’ me wit’ her bullshit. Between textin’ and callin’ and leavin’ a buncha messages, the bitch wouldn’t let up. Talkin’ ’bout she was gonna keep blowin’ my line up ’til I agreed to see her. That wasn’t gonna happen. I told her raggedy-ass to beat it. Instead, she kept callin’ and talkin’ shit. Threatened to cut off my dick and shred it in a blender. Lucky for me, I kept all of her messages and was able to use ’em in court to get a fuckin’ restrainin’ order against her psycho ass. Fuck what ya heard. A bitch dragged me into court, so I returned the favor and dragged one into court, too. Call it a punk move if you want, but a muhfucka ain’t beat to be changin’ phone numbers ’n shit. If I tell ya ass to stop callin’, then gotdamn it…stop fuckin’ callin’! The last thing I need is another ho tryna jam me up in court wit’ some bullshit-ass lies, so I beat her to it. Got that broad banned from contactin’ me or anyone else in my personal space or comin’ anywhere near me. And there you have it!
I’ma tell you this much: Fuckin’ wit’ unstable hoes like Sh
erria and Ramona is a major headache, which is why you need to fuck ’em ’n dump ’em the first time you see any signs of nuttiness; especially when you know you ain’t tryna wife ’em. Ain’t no need in investin’ a buncha time and energy into a ho you know you ain’t tryna build wit’, feel me? And that’s how I’ma haveta do it from now on, especially when the bitch ain’t comin’ up offa no paper.
I stretch and yawn, gettin’ my naked ass outta bed. I slide my feet into my slippers, go into the bathroom to take a long piss, then go downstairs to crank up the heat in this bitch. “It’s colder than a dead whore’s ass up in here,” I say out loud, pickin’ up my cell to hit Pops up to check in on ’im. We talk for ’bout fifteen minutes, then I call Moms. As usual, she’s tryna beat me in the head ’bout shit I’m not gonna change. I glance outta the window. It looks like it’s gonna snow today.
“I hope you plan on making some changes in your life for the New Year. You can’t keep doing the same old stuff.” I shake my head. She seems to always call me when things aren’t goin’ right. For some reason, I wonder if she knows ’bout all the shit I’ve been through the last week or so wit’ Ramona and Sherria. But if she does, she doesn’t let on. And I’m not gonna offer, not now anyway.
“Why can’t I?”I ask, closin’ the curtain. “It works for me.”
She sighs. “Okay, Mr. It Works For Me, do you. I’m leaving it alone. If you’re not worried, then neither am I.”
I laugh, walkin’ back upstairs to my bedroom. “Yeah right, Ma. How many times have I heard that?”
“I’ve lost count,” she says. “But this time I’m really serious. I’m done. A new year is coming in and I refuse to keep worrying about you. Just like I had to do with your father, I have to accept the fact that you’re not going to change until you get good and ready.”
I sigh. Why she insists on comparin’ me to Pops is beyond me. But I’ma leave it be. “Ma, you know I love you, right.” It’s more a statement than a question. My nice way of changin’ the subject wit’out gettin’ into any extras wit’ her.
“And I love you. Now, what would you like for Christmas?”
I grin, almost forgettin’ it’s the season to be jolly, and for givin’ and receivin’. Not that I’ma be givin’ out anything other than nuts. But a muhfucka’s definitely lookin’ forward to doin’ a buncha receivin’. “I don’t need nuthin’ major, Ma. You know how I do. Besides, I may be outta town for the holidays.” I don’t have any specific travel plans as of yet ’cause it’s still early, but I tell her this, just in case sumthin’ pops off. I ask her what she wants for Christmas as well, knowin’ whatever it is I’ma haveta drop some major paper on it. But she’s worth it. And, yeah, I spend my own shit. She’s the only woman I will dip into my own pockets for. I’m not that fucked up.
