CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Nigga showin’ up outta da blue…seein’ his face…standin’ in my space…gotta bitch all twisted…nigga wanna make me see…his point’a view…tryna apologize…tryna make amends… bearin’ his soul…offerin’ up his love…tellin’ me shit he’s been dreamin’ of…askin’ me to let ’im love me….
He peeps Zaire sleepin’ in my arms, then blinks. “Whose baby is that?” I tell ’im mine. “Yours?” he asks, lookin’ puzzled. “How old is he?”
“What does it matter? He’s mine. And his name is Zaire.”
“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts?”
“’Cause I’ve been avoidin’ you.”
He tilts his head, starin’ at Zaire, then me. I can tell he’s tryna figure shit out in his head. I let ’im think what he wants. “I thought you weren’t f*ck—” I check his mouth; tell ’im not to curse in front of Zaire. “My bad. I mean, I thought you weren’t gettin’ it in wit’ anyone else. Is it that cat’s out there in Cali?”
I huff. “Geezus, nigga, what’s up wit’ da twenty damn questions? No, it ain’t his. And it ain’t yours. Now why you here?”
He reaches for me. “I came here for you.”
F*ck all this censorin’ shit! I step back. “Well, sorry to bust ya bubble. But, I ain’t here for you so you can bounce back to whereva you came from. Go find ya’self a bitch whose gonna trick ’er money up on ya ass. And run behind ya ass, beggin’ ’n cryin’ ’n shit. And shootin’ ya ass up when she can’t have you.”
“That’s not da kinda woman I want on my arm, or in my life. I want you.”
I shift Zaire from one arm to the otha. His lil’ ass is gettin’ heavy. “Well, you can’t have me. I don’t want da headache. So step.”
I try to shut the door in his face. “Hol’ up…” He puts his hand up and stops the door from shuttin’. “Yo, all I’m askin’ for is fifteen minutes. That’s all.” I glare at ’im. “Kat, look at me, ma. I’m f*cked up here. I haven’t slept or ate in weeks. I ain’t da kinda muhf*cka to ever beg a bit…a woman for shit. But, I’m askin’, beggin’ you, for fifteen minutes; that’s it. Is that too much for a muhf*cka to ask for? Fifteen minutes for you to give me a chance to talk; and you to listen. And when I’m done, if you still ain’t beat, then I’ll bounce; real talk. I’ll walk outta this door and never bother you, again.”
I stare at this muhf*cka; take the nigga in. His eyes are red and swollen. The nigga looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I feel the urge to slap the shit outta ’im for comin’ into a bitch’s life, pushin’ his way into my space. Forcin’ a bitch to feel shit she ain’t tryna feel.
I step back, pull open the door, and let ’im in. “Ten minutes, then you need to leave.” He brushes past me. I shut the door, then tell ’im to give me a minute take the baby upstairs to put ’im in his crib.
When I come back downstairs, he’s sittin’ on the sofa, holdin’ his head in his face. He lifts his head when he hears me. “Kat, listen to me, baby…”
I stand in the middle of the floor, fold my arms. “Nigga, don’t baby me. Hurry up ’n get to da point, so I can go back to doin’ what I was doin’.”
“Yo, why da f*ck you so f*ckin’ mean and evil? What did I ever do to you for you to treat me like shit?”
“You came into my life, disruptin’ my flow, nigga. That’s what you did. You brought drama to my muthaf*ckin’ door, nigga.”
“That wasn’t my intention,” he stands up, walkin’ ova to me. “I’m really sorry ’bout that.”
“Nigga, sorry don’t cut it. A bitch shot ya ass right in front of me. You knew that bitch was a Looney bin graduate and you still was f*ckin’ wit’ da bitch on da sly.”
“Kat, I swear to you. I wasn’t f*ckin’ wit’ that broad. I put that on e’erything I love. Straight lace, baby, I was only talkin’ to ’er ass, tryna keep da peace. Da bitch was talkin’ real reckless, so I tried to defuse da shit.”
I glare at ’im. “So you tellin’ me you was only talkin’ to da bitch on da phone?”
He shifts his eyes, shakin’ his head. “Nah, I saw ’er a few times. But it wasn’t nuthin’.”
“Besides ’er, who da f*ck else was you seein’?”
“Kat, I wasn’t seein’ ’er da way you sayin’ it. I wasn’t seein’ anyone else. I told you, on some real shit, that I was really into you.”
I sigh. “Why couldn’t you step da f*ck off when I was brushin’ ya ass off? Why’d you have’ta keep pressin’ a bitch?”
He touches the side of my face. “’Cause, on some real shit, da first moment I saw you wit’ ya girl walkin’ through da hotel in Arizona, I knew I had’a get at you. I knew you were da kinda woman I could fall for. And that’s on e’eryting. Even when you was playin’ a muhf*cka to da left, that shit only made me wanna get at you more.”
“Then you a damn fool,” I tell ’im, sidesteppin’ ’im. I take a seat on the sofa.
“Nah…that makes me a man who knows what he wants. Da first time we spoke on da phone, and I heard ya sexy-ass voice, I knew what I already felt—that you were da one for me.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“But a muhf*cka knows what he feels. I ain’t ever felt no shit like this for any female before. And that’s some real shit, Kat.”
“And what’s that?”
“Love.”
Love? The word slips from this nigga’s lips wit’out any effort. And I’m shocked. It’s sumthin’ a bitch neva ’pected to hear from ’im. I don’t know why, but I need to be sure I heard ’im the first time. “What did you say?” He doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. Looks me in the eyes ’n repeats the shit. “That’s what I thought you said. Well, you need ta take that shit up wit’ another bitch—”
“Yo, why you keep tryna push me away?”
“I’m not pushin’ you away. I’m tryna give ya ass a chance to bow out gracefully.”
“I’m not lookin’ for an out,” he snaps, “I’m lookin’ for you to open ya heart and let a muhf*cka in so he can love you.”
“How you gonna love me? What da f*ck you know ’bout lovin’ anyone other than ya’self? You’ve neva even been committed to a bitch. So what makes you think a muhf*cka like you can be faithful? How da f*ck you know you even capable of love?”
“’Cause I’m not that muhf*cka I used to be. I knew the first time we rocked them sheets who I wanted in my life. And I know what I feel”—he taps the space over his heart wit’ his fist—“right here.”
“And layin’ up in that hospital bed gave a muhf*cka a buncha time to think. I almost died, Kat. And keepin’ it a hunnid, that shit scared me. I don’t wanna die not knowin’ what it’s like to love someone. I mean really love ’em, feel me?
This muhf*cka is crazy. Would this muhf*cka be sayin’ all this shit if he knew I was a bitch who laid a buncha niggas down wit’out battin’ an eye? Would da nigga be so pressed to love a bitch knowin’ she gets off on shuttin’ a muhf*cka’s lights out?
“I wanna understand you, baby. I wanna stand by you. Be the kinda man in ya dreams. I can be that muhf*cka, Kat; real talk. Let a muhf*cka love you, Kat.”
“Da last muhf*cka I thought loved me was busy lettin’ a bitch who I thought was my friend suck his dick. And da nigga after ’im was caught f*ckin’ my aunt, so—”
“So, that’s their shit. Not mine. I’m not them. I told you, I don’t cheat.”
“And you neva been in a relationship eitha.”
“Yeah, true. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what kinda woman I need in my life to push me to be a better man.
“Yeah, well, you say that shit now. But what happens when ya ass starts gettin’ bored wit’ havin’ only one bitch?”
“That won’t happen,” he says, starin’ at me.
“I don’t trust you, nigga.”
He slowly shakes his head, runs his hands ova his face. “Keep shit gee. Is it me, or ya’self you don’t trust?”
I frown. “Nigga, what’s that ’posed to mean?”
“It means bein’ honest wit’ ya’self ’bout what da f*ck you really feelin’. No frontin’. Step outta da bullshit, and see you for da first time…”
“Frontin’? I don’t gotta front ’bout shit. I’ma real bitch, nigga.”
“Yeah, wit’ e’ery bitch, but you. For once trust what’s in ya heart, not what you think in ya head. You say I don’t know you, but ya wrong, baby. I know you hurt, like I hurt. I know you dream, like I dream. I know you scared of takin’ risks. Of lettin’ someone get close to you. Like me, you been runnin’ all ya life from ya’self.”
I blink, blink again. This muthaf*cka don’t know shit ’bout a bitch like me. I slam my hand up on my hip, point a finga at ’im, stabbin’ it in the air. “Nigga, you don’t know me; you don’t know shit ’bout what I been runnin’ from, so save that psychoanalytical bullshit.”
“Check this out, this ain’t no playground and I’m not here to game you. I know what I want. And I know what I don’t want. You, I want. Them other broads were strictly bitches I wanted p-ssy from.”
I glance ova at the clock. “Aiight, times up. You gotta go.”
“No, not until you listen to me.” What da f*ck?! This nigga must want anotha round of bullets in ’im. “If you wanna run up ’n get ya gun, do you. I already been shot up, so it ain’t nuthin’ else you can to do ’xcept kill a muhufa.”
“Alex, save all that Alley Cat and Daddy Long Stroke bullshit for them dizzy-ass hoes out there. I ain’t interested in nuthin’ you sellin’.”
He lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m here, not as Alley Cat, or Daddy Long Stroke, or any other stage name bitches have given me. I’m here as Alexander, baby. A man flawed…and yes, f*cked up. But underneath all my scars and faults, I’ma man wit’ a big heart, but it’s been empty. And I’ve spent my whole life tryna fill up this big-ass hole wit’ a buncha p-ssy. Yeah, a buncha bitches done tossed me the p-ssy, done let me bust my nuts down in their throats and all ova their faces, and they let me run all through their wallets. But, after e’ery f*ck; after e’ery nut, the only thing it did was make me feel more f*cked up, had me feelin’ lonelier than before, and still empty. What are you so afraid of?”
“I ain’t afraid of shit, nigga.”
Bitch, stop lyin’. You say you a real bitch, then keep da shit a hunnid wit’ da nigga.
“Yo, if you wanna keep livin’ ya life in fear, then do you. But, you gonna miss out on some good shit.”
I huff. “Like what, you?”
“Nah, like freedom.”
I frown. “Nigga, what are you talkin’ ’bout? I am free.”
He shakes his head. “Baby, as long as you keep livin’ in fear, you’ll never be free.”
“I’m neva gone be da kinda bitch you gonna try’n run game on. I’m not da kinda bitch you think you gonna hurt and it be all gravy. No, nigga, I’m da kinda bitch who’ll put a bullet in ya shit. And unlike that bitch, Ramona, I pop niggas and drop niggas, in one shot.” He bucks his eyes. I can tell I done shocked ’im. I walk ova to the door, swingin’ it open. “It’s time for you to bounce.”
“So you really ain’t f*ckin’ wit’ me?” I can tell he’s tryna keep it together. I can hear his voice crackin’.
I shake my head, openin’ the door. “I can’t.”
“Oh, aiight. Then I guess it’s goodbye.”
“I guess so.” We’re standin’ in front of each otha. He’s lookin’ into my eyes. And I’m lookin’ into his. I’ve neva seen this nigga look so broken. “I don’t want you to think I hate you, ’cause I don’t. Keepin’ shit real, I care ’bout you. And I’m sure you have da potential to be a good man, but I can’t chance you draggin’ me into no dumb shit. I have a baby to think ’bout now. And I don’t want drama in my life.”
“So you gotta ’nother nigga in ya life?”
“Alex, da only nigga in my life is that lil’ boy upstairs. That’s da only man I have da energy for right now.” He asks me ’bout the sign outside. Wants to know where I plan on movin’. I tell ’im I don’t know. Even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell ’im anyway. He wants to know if I’m gonna stay in Jersey, or move back to Brooklyn. I shrug. “I seriously doubt it.”
“I feel you. Yo, I thought you said I get three strikes? I should have two left.”
“Gettin’ ya tires slashed in my driveway was strike one. Actin’ funny ’n shit and gettin’ ghost on a bitch was strike two. And not keepin’ shit real wit’ me ’bout that bitch was strike three.”
I walk up on ’im, and do sumthin’ I know I probably shouldn’t. I pull him by his shirt down to me, standin’ up on my tippy-toes. I kiss ’im on the lips. Let the nigga slip his tongue in my mouth. My p-ssy starts to pop as his hands start roamin’ all ova my body.
“I’ve missed you so much. Don’t do this to us, baby. Give me anotha chance.”
F*ck da nigga one more time, ho.
I can’t do this shit wit’ him.
Bitch, puhleeze. You know you wanna ride da nigga’s dick.
I pull away. “I can’t.”
He hangs his head, lookin’ defeated as he walks out. I watch ’im walk to his car, get in, then back out. He’s lookin’ at me, and I’m lookin’ at ’im. I wave to ’im. And he blows the horn. I don’t shut the door ’til I can no longer see his car, then I press my back up against the door, closin’ my eyes and bangin’ my head up against it. Bitch, you know you care ’bout his ass. You should gave da nigga anotha chance.
I can’t take that kinda chance. I can’t let da nigga get all up in my head, then f*ck up my heart.
Ho, get ova ya’self. You know da nigga cares ’bout you. You saw da shit in his eyes.
Call da nigga and tell ’im to come back.
Hell no! I can’t f*ck wit’ ’im.
I take a deep breath, walkin’ up the stairs to get showered and dressed. For some reason, a bitch is feelin’ kinda down. I know, think, in my head, I’m doin’ the right thing, but my heart is tellin’ me sumthin’ different. F*ck, f*ck, f*ck!