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“Hey, baby,” he coolly replied, “where you at? I called the shop but Felecia said you left already.”
“Yeah,” I told him, keeping a nice distance between me and the truck. Even though I was ready to go off, I kept my tone even; kept my eye on the truck as it stopped at a home in the Vailsburg section of Newark. “I’m on my way to Livingston Mall. Why?”
“Just askin’. What time you gonna be home?”
I glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. I decided to tell him I wouldn’t be home until after seven. I stopped a few houses down, turned off the engine, and watched this chick get out of my man’s ride—like she owned the shit! She opened the backseat and pulled out several bags. The bitch had been shopping, probably spending his money. “Why? As a matter of fact, where are you?”
“Oh, uh…I’m in Maplewood wit’ Stax.”
“Oh, tell him I said hey. What, ya’ll getting into? Visiting your grandmother?”
“Yeah, she got us painting and moving shit for her.”
“Awww, how cute,” I told him. “That’s real nice of ya’ll. Are you riding with Stax?”
“Nah, I’m driving,” he lied.
“So what time are you gonna be home?”
“Uh, I’m not sure; late most likely.”
“What’s late?”
“Like ’round midnight or so.”
I peeped the house the broad went into, waited a few minutes, then got out of my car. I popped open my truck, pulled out my ice-pick, then started walking toward his truck. Yes, in broad motherfucking daylight, I dropped down low and punched up his tires.
“What are you driving?”
“My truck, why?”
“Oh really? That’s amazing.”
“Why you say that?”
“’Cause motherfucker, I’m standing outside looking at the shit as we speak.” I rattled off the license plate number.
“Say whaaat?”
“You heard me the first time, nigga. I said, how the fuck you driving your truck when I’m outside looking at it? I just finished ice-picking two of your motherfucking tires so you had better hurry up and get your black ass out here right now before I stab up the other two.”
“What the fuck? Say what?!”
I started counting, “Ten, nine, eight…bring your motherfucking ass…seven, six, five…out of that goddamn house…four, three, two…NOW! Or I’m gonna start busting out your motherfucking windows, nigga…one.”
I saw someone looking out an upstairs window, then heard him say, “Oh, shit.” Then I heard scrambling around; someone running down stairs, then the front door flung open. And out came Jasper’s ass, pulling his shirt over his head. His jeans were unbuttoned and his Timbs were unlaced. Clear signs that the nigga had been undressed. His eyes were wide as saucers when he looked down and saw his truck slumped over on one side.
“Motherfucker, you better explain what the fuck you’re doing over here when you’re supposed to be in Maplewood with Stax. And what the fuck was that chick doing driving your truck?”
“Damn, Pasha…what the fuck, yo?”
“Ain’t no Pasha ’what the fuck’ nothing, nigga. I wanna know what the fuck you doing over here and why the fuck you have some bitch driving your shit.”
“I ain’t have no bitch driving my shit. Yo, you buggin’ for real. Why you flatten my tires?”
“Nigga, you’re a motherfucking liar. I know what the fuck I saw. So don’t try ’n switch it up on me. I asked you a motherfucking question, but since you can’t seem to give me a straight answer, I’ll go to the source.” I started walking toward the house. Jasper ran up on me, snatching me by the arm.
“Aye, yo, you buggin’. It’s not what you think for real, yo.”
