So Gone

Rude Boy


Molaysia

After many threats, pleas, and bribes, Devin finally came into the building. My secretary was at her desk as we passed through. She glimpsed over at Devin and smiled.

“Whatchu lookin’ at?” he asked her with tears leaking from his eyes.

“Have some manners, child,” I scolded and snatched him by the arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jones,” I said over my shoulder as we entered my office.

I flopped down on the brown leather office chair behind my computer. A photo of Blunt embracing me in his arms set in a small, white plastic frame on my desk. I looked at the picture and shook my head. This man was really taking me down through there with all of his foolishness.

Little Dennis The Menace sat in a chair directly in front of me. He was breathing heavily and rolling his eyes at me. His expression spoke a mouthful, but it wasn’t like I really cared.

With those thick eyebrows, dark complexion, and other defined features, he was the spitting image of his daddy. With that hard head and rude attitude, he would likely follow in his father's footsteps. He would end up breaking some young girl's heart and having no remorse over doing so.

I picked up the office phone to call Blunt. I hesitated before dialing his number because I suspected that my secretary was a certified ear hustler. I didn’t want my business floating throughout the school. That would've been too embarrassing.

“Devin can you get up and close the door for me, please?” I asked politely.

“Nope,” he growled, mean mugging me.

“Get up and close the door,” I demanded this time.

“I ain’t doing nothing. You can’t tell me what to do, hoe!”

My mouth dropped to the floor! I shot up out of my chair with murderous intentions. My hands were fixed to strangle the life out of him. No, Molaysia! No! my inner voice screamed.

I stalked right pass him and slammed the door shut myself. I sat back down and dialed Blunt’s number praying that I’d get an answer.

On the third ring his deep baritone voice uttered, “Whad’s poppin’, Shawdy?”

“Where are you?” I asked impatiently, crossing my legs to keep from hopping up and putting his foul-mouthed child in a grownup headlock. If he continued to hurl insults, Child Protective Services would be knocking on my door.

“You ain’t cute,” Devin interrupted.

I tapped my fingers on the desk and ignored him. "Blunt, where the hell are you?" I hissed.

“I’m out handling my shit, Baby Girl. What’s up wit’ it?” he replied.

“I need you to come get your son from my job. Chunuchi dropped him off earlier claiming that he got suspended, and she needed to get to work. Your child is very disrespectful and I can’t tolerate his behavior. Come and get him right now.”

“Mo’, why the f*ck are you trippin’?"

"Now!" I repeated.

“Aight, I'm on my way,” he huffed.

"No, Blunt, I don't need for you to be on the way. I need for you to get here, asap."

I ended the call. If Blunt didn’t arrive in thirty minutes, I would develop an alternative plan to have his son removed from my office.





Adding Fire To The Flame


Molaysia

As I sat waiting for Blunt to come get his bae-bae kid, I stared out of the huge glass window beside my desk in deep thought. My nerves were shot and I kept thinking to myself that the sooner the little hard headed boy got out of my office, the better off I would be.

“Is my daddy on his way?” he had the audacity to ask. He propped his foot up on my desk and looked at me with a smirk.

He was really testing my patience. In my profession, I had dealt with many insolent children, but this pint-sized antagonist took the ribbon.

I glanced around the room theatrically. “Are you talking to me?”

“Yep, ain’t nobody else in here.”

I kept my cool.

“Yes, your daddy is on his way to pick you up and I’ll be glad when he gets here.” I let out a long sigh and fumbled with some papers on my desk.

Devin scratched his chin and rubbed the side of his face. “Me too ‘cause I wanna go see my baby sister.”

My eyes shot up from the paperwork. “Uh, I thought your mother had all boys?” I treaded cautiously so that he wouldn't clam up.

“She does, but Daddy’s other girlfriend just had my baby sister.” He leaned over from his chair and grabbed his book bag from the carpeted floor. He unzipped it and started fumbling through it.

“Excuse me. What did you just say, Devin?” I interrogated.

“I said my daddy's other girlfriend just had me a baby sister, and they live right around the corner from my house.”

I sat straight up in my chair, biting down on my lip. “How wonderful. What’s the baby’s mother's name?” I questioned him.

“Luscious,” he proudly sang out swinging his leg from side to side. He pulled out a folder, tore a couple of sheets of paper out of it, and made two paper airplanes.

Is he telling the truth? I asked myself as a paper plane whizzed by my face.

I knew that Devin could out-fib the Devil, but I doubted that a small kid his age could make up such a lie.

As I gazed out of the window, in deep thought, an object struck me between the eyes and fell in my lap. I looked down and saw the second paper airplane. This li’l boy is irritating the hell out of me!

I felt like bee stinging him, Laila Ali style. Instead, I balled the paper airplane up and tossed it in the waste basket beside my desk.

Blunt and Chunuchi had gotten together and made nothing but a mess when Devin was conceived. I’m sure it didn’t take much effort for Blunt to nail her. It seemed that if any man accidentally stepped on her foot; her legs would pop open.

If Chunuchi couldn't keep her legs closed or use some type of protection, the least she could do was teach her children how to behave. Usually, I had the patience of Job. Dealing with high school teenagers contributed to my strength, but I was at wits end with Blunt's seed. One more rude slur, and I would snap like a deranged woman.





When Ya Shit Comes To The Light


Blunt

“Yeah, Shawdy, I’ma get wit’ you later.” I gave my word as I sat up on the edge of Luscious's bed and grabbed my Polo boxers off the floor.

“Noooo, Daddy,” she whined. “You only made me come twice, and you know a bitch ain’t satisfied unless she creams on that dick at least six times.”

Shawdy was a high natured freak who tried to suck and f*ck me dry every time I ran up in her. I knew that she loved the dick, but I wasn’t no lame. Luscious tried to drain a nigga's nuts dry all the time so that I wouldn’t have nothin’ left for Mo’.

“Miss me wit’ da fake whining, Li’l Mama. Cuz it ain’t gon’ work,” I said and headed to the shower butt ass naked wit’ my dick swinging.

Minutes later, Luscious ripped the shower curtain down in a huff. “Every time that sedity bitch calls, you go running to her like she got your ass on a leash.”

“Maybe she does,” I replied while lathering the small bath towel with soap just to f*ck wit’ her.

Mo’ didn’t have me on no leash, but I loved her because she was different from the rats throughout the hood that were all on my dick. Mo’ didn’t sit around and wait on the first of the month to get a check or for a nigga to sponsor her. My baby was the principal of Harper High, and she was independent.

There’s nothin’ more unattractive than a bitch without a job or the determination to find one. That’s what the rats didn’t understand. A nigga didn’t mind helping them get what they wanted, but their asses should’ve been able to get what they needed their goddamn selves.

Luscious didn’t work, but she got some f*ckin’ wit’ because she was somewhat my partner in crime. Li’l Mama was a dymed up red-bone, with an ass that was stupid phat. All the ballers were on her thong. That played right into my hands bein’ that I was a jackboy.

Luscious would set those fools up real sweet, and I would leave ‘em leaking wit’ their dicks in the dirt. Because Lil Mama knew so much on me that could get me a bid wit’ football numbers attached, I had to either keep f*ckin’ wit’ her or body the hoe.

“I swear you be lettin’ that bitch punk you,” Luscious said, tryna get under my skin. I didn't bite tho'.

"Sho’ do,” I agreed and continued soaping my six-one, one hundred and ninety-seven pound frame.

“Well, Ebony is goin’ to need pampers and food. Can you run to the store and handle that before you go put out whateva new fire Miss Sedity needs you to put out?” She rolled her neck hard enough to snap it off.

I hummed Lil Wayne’s tune, ‘Mirror’ featuring Bruno Mars.

“Oh, so you just gonna ignore a bitch?” she asked standing by the shower in her birthday suit.

“Damn, Shawdy. You finally figured it out, huh?” I replied with sarcasm while adding more hot water.

“I hate you! When it comes to your bitch or to Devin, you’re Johnny on the mothaf*ckin’ spot. But when it comes to me and yo’ daughter it’s always wait, wait, mothaf*ckin’ wait.”

“That’s what you get fo’ baby trappin’ a nigga.”

“I didn’t baby trap yo’ black ass; you shoulda pulled out of the p-ssy. Nigga, you didn't have to bust all up in me if you didn't want what comes with it.”

“Nawl, you shouldna slipped the condom off. Then again, I shoulda expected somethin’ slick out of a slick hoe. Anyway, I’m ‘bout to be out.”

I turned the water off, got out of the shower, and grabbed a towel off the towel rack on the wall. Luscious stood there poppin' off at the mouth as I toweled myself dry. She was tryna make me put a foot in that ass, but like we say in the 'A', I wasn't going.

I opened the bathroom’s door and nudged Luscious out. Then, I slammed the door in her mug. She kicked the door, twisted the door handle, and screamed, "Open this mothaf*cka right now!"

I kept right on humming. The more she screamed, the louder I hummed. I tossed my Akoo white tee over my head, stepped into my Akoo jeans, and splashed on some Prada cologne that I kept at her crib. When I opened the door, she was still bumping her gums, not talking about a goddamn thang.

I went into her bedroom to get my Jordans and my cell phone, and then I was out.

“And I’m tired of hiding Ebony from yo’ bitch. You better tell her about us, or I will,” she hurled at my back as I headed out of the door. I stopped in my tracks and spun around.

“And when you do that, I’ma make our daughter motherless,” I promised.

“Are you threatening me, Blunt?” she challenged.

“Real niggas don't make threats; they pull triggers. Don’t forget that.”

I trotted down the stairs, hopped in my whip, and mashed out without giving the shit that Luscious was jabbering about any further thought.