The Kat Trap Page 10

  Okay, the nigga was fine, but I didn’t give a fuck ’bout that. I didn’t like him. Somethin’ told me he was no fuckin’ good. A bitch like me could peep a no-good muhfucka from a mile away. The only thing I wanted to know is where the fuck she met him and how long she’d been with him. As pretty as my moms is, for some reason she always liked niggas who had issues. Issues gettin’ a job; issues keepin’ a job; issues with drinkin’; issues with cheatin’; issues with gamblin’; issues with child support; issues with the law; issues with keepin’ his hands off women; and the list went on. Issues, issues, issues…that’s all she ever seemed to attract. Her pussy was a wet magnet for fucked-up men. And e’ery one of the niggas she picked up off the streets, she had to carry. Movin’ his ass in, feedin’ him, puttin’ money in his pockets, cleanin’ his ass up. She’d always put a nigga and his dick before me any day. Dumb women like her really made me fuckin’ sick. Moms or not, as bad as I hated to admit it—no matter how hard I’ve tried not to—I had very little respect for her. And I was really startin’ to like her less and less.

  “So tell me. How old is he?” I asked when she came back into the kitchen. “He looks young enough to be ya son. Don’t tell me you robbin’ cradles now.”

  She sucked her teeth. “Shut your mouth. He’s old enough. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Humph. Well, what back alley did you find this stray in, and how long he been sniffin’ around? Better yet, does the nigga work?”

  “That’s none of your gotdamn business. I don’t question who you fuckin’, so don’t you dare go there with me. I’m the mother, not you. And don’t forget it.”

  I took a deep breath, bit down on my bottom lip. Moms or not, I was ready to bring it to her ass. I tilted my head, raised my eyebrow. “Is that so,” I said, smirkin’.

  “What the fuck you mean ‘is that so’? Bitch, don’t get beside ya’self.”

  Bitch?!? I stared her down. “And don’t you come out ya face callin’ me out my name. I mean just how I said it. Take it how you wanna.”

  She stopped flutterin’ her ass ’round, slammin’ her hand on her waist. “Kat, I never put my hands on ya fresh ass, but I’m tellin’ ya right now…keep it up and I’ma beat your ass for everything I didn’t. You hear me?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, whatever.”

  I knew sayin’, “whatever” was gonna crank her up. She hated it. But she started the shit, so it was only a matter of time before it got hectic up in this piece.

  “‘Whatever’ nothin’. I’m a split second off ya ass, Kat. I done warned you. For once, why can’t you just be happy for me, instead of hatin’? You act like you jealous or something.”

  I laughed. “Jealous of what?”

  “Of the fact that I got a man and you don’t. That for once in my life I’m happy. This is why I didn’t tell your ass about him, ’cause it’s always the same bullshit with you.”

  “Are you serious? You sound real delusional. I ain’t jealous of nothin’ you got, especially a man you fuckin’. If havin’ a man is what makes you happy, then good for you.” I laughed at her, which I knew was gonna set shit off more. “You need help, sweetie. Real talk. ’Cause if havin’ a man lay up on you is ya definition of happiness, then you can have it. And hatin’ is the last thing I do, trust. I know ya track record when it comes to men, boo. And it ain’t a good look.”

  “Bitch!” She yanked the knife off the counter and pointed it at me. Yep, this is how she comes at me. “I don’t know where the fuck you get off thinkin’ you can talk to me any way you want. Don’t have me fuck you up in here.”

  Okay, so she never beat my ass growin’ up, but verbally she’d get at me like I was a grown-ass woman, like I was a bitch on the streets. This is the kinda shit that kept me doin’ me. But pullin’ a muthfuckin’ knife out on me was some new shit. And on some real shit, she was really pushin’ my patience. I got up. It was time for me to get the fuck outta there. “I’m out,” I said.

  Her nigga was lampin’ on the sofa with his big-ass feet plopped up on the table and his hands down in his sweats, watchin’ some movie. He looked over at me and grinned. “Aiight, pretty. You be safe out there.”

  I igged him. “Bum-ass nigga,” I mumbled. But obviously not low enough ’cause just as I unbolted the first two locks, she came runnin’ outta the kitchen like a madwoman.

  “And, Kat, don’t bring ya ass back ’round here until you know how to talk to me.”

  “Get real,” I snapped, facin’ her. “You pull a fuckin’ knife on me, and wanna…you know what? Fuck it. I’m out. You ain’t gotta ever worry ’bout me comin’ through this rathole again.”

  “Listen here, I’m ’bout sick of ya nasty-ass attitude, you ungrateful bitch. I mean what I said: Until you can respect me and my man, don’t bring ya snotty, black ass back ’round here. I let ya ass get away with murder growin’ up. I shoulda beat the shit outta ya smart ass a few times, then you wouldn’t be up in here talkin’ outta the side of ya neck at me, like I’m one of them bitches out on the street. That’s what the fuck I shoulda done.”

  Ugh! Here she goes with this ‘I shoulda beat ya ass’ shit again. She sounded like a damn scratched record. And it was gettin’ on my last muthafuckin’ nerve. I finished unlockin’ the rest of the bolts, then swung the door open, but before I walked out, I read her ass. Fuck what ya heard. She had it comin’.

  “No, what ya shoulda been doin’ was bein’ a damn mother instead of chasin’ behind sorry-ass muhfuckas who either used ya or beat ya damn ass. Like the nigga right there,” I said, pointin’ in his direction. “I don’t give a hot flyin’ fuck what you do, ’cause ya right. You a grown-ass woman, and you can fuck who the hell ya want. But you got ya facts twisted. Don’t ever think you’ve been a damn mother, ’cause that’s one thing you’ve never been.”

  “I kept a fuckin’ roof over ya damn head!” she yelled. “And I made sure ya ass had food to eat. You never went hungry. You always had a place to lay your ungrateful-ass head. And when you wanted to take ya ass ’cross the river, I signed the papers and it was my muthafucking money that fronted ya shit, so don’t fucking tell me what I’ve never done for ya selfish ass.”

  Oh, now we on this shit again, I thought. I slammed the door. Yes, we were gonna have it out for once and for goddamn all. I’d held a lotta shit in, and it was time she knew how I felt. Just how fucked up I thought she was. And I already knew if she raised up on me, this would be the one time I’d forget my manners and fight her like a chick from the hood. Keepin’ it real, I wouldn’t really straight-up duke her; she was still my moms. I’d remove my earrings and straight-up windmill her ass. And if her nigga wanted to be all up in the mix, then today was his lucky day. He was ’bout to get an earful. And if she even looked like she was gonna put her hands on me, he’d get to see firsthand how a live bitch rocks. That was my word.

  I started clappin’. “So, what you want, a fuckin’ medal? Yeah, you got my spot for me, but it was with my fuckin’ money, so don’t go there. And, yeah, you kept a roof over my head, but you kept bringin’ crab-ass muhfuckas up in here, too. If they weren’t layin’ up on ya dumb ass, they were beatin’ their dicks droolin’ over me. And from what I can see, ain’t much changed. You still stupid when it comes to a nigga. Like when I told ya ass that ya fuckin’ man was comin’ into my room, you acted like I was makin’ the shit up. You believed that muhfucka over ya own daughter, talkin’ ’bout I was probably shakin’ my ass ’n titties up in his face; that I probably wanted him to fuck me. How the fuck you think that made me feel, huh?”

  She stood there, lookin’ at me like she didn’t know what the fuck I was talkin’ ’bout. “Kat, get the fuck out right now! I mean it. Get…out…before I forget you’re my child and beat you the fuck down like a bitch in the streets.”

  “Bitch,” I yelled. Yeah, I called my own mother a bitch. Oh, fuckin’ well! What little respect I had for her as a mother was deaded the moment she pulled a knife on me. “It’s obvio
us you forgot I was your child the moment you gave birth! So fuck what ya neglectful ass talkin’. You never gave a fuck ’bout me. The only thing you ever cared about was keepin’ ya fat pussy wet, real talk.”

  Her nigga got up from off the sofa and grabbed her before she could run up on me. “Come on, baby, calm down. Don’t.”

  She tried to break free. “No, Jawan. Let me go. This bitch done got too grown, callin’ me a bitch. I don’t know who the fuck she thinks she is. But it’s time I brought her down a notch, and stretched her on her back.”

  “Chill, baby. She’s probably upset ’bout not knowin’ ’bout us gettin’ married.”

  “Nigga,” I snapped, “I don’t give a fuck ’bout you and her gettin’ married! I already know what time it is with ya bum ass. As soon as you run through her money, ya ass’ll be ghost. And she’s too fuckin’ blind to see it.”

  His jaw tightened. “I’ma let that shit slide, outta respect for ya moms.”

  “Nigga, please! You don’t really want it.”

  “Ho, I done told you to get ya ass outta here.”

  “C’mon, baby,” the nigga said, pullin’ her by the arm, tryna keep her from comin’ up on me. “Let it go.”

  I stared at her long and hard. “That nigga must got some real good dick to have you pullin’ fuckin’ knives out on me and talkin’ all reckless n’ shit. But it’s all good.” I opened the door again, lookin’ at her one more time. “As far as I’m concerned, ya ass is dead to me. So when he beats ya ass and fucks up all ya change, you got what the fuck ya ass deserves. And for the record, bitch, the only ho in this room is you. So do you, boo.” She broke away from her nigga, and as she came chargin’ toward me, I slammed the door in her face. As I ran toward the stairwell, all I heard was her yellin’, screamin’ and cursin’ how she and my aunts were gonna fuck me up.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Young and restless…dumb and reckless…A nigga can’t teach a girl to be a woman…can’t teach her ’bout self-love…got ya wonderin’ why she’s runnin’ away…why she’s turned into a hateful bitch…look into my eyes…let me tell you why…while a bitch was lookin’ for love in all the wrong places…a young girl was lookin’ for direction…lookin’ for love in her mother’s eyes…searchin’ for love in her embrace…but a bitch had no time…denied her…deprived her…chasin’ dick was the only thing on her mind…now the young girl is a woman…and looks at her mother’s ass with disdain…and no matter how hard she tries to explain…she has learned…she now realizes…a neglectful bitch will never understand her pain…

  By the time I got back ’cross the water, I had already blazed two blunts and was feelin’ right. But I ain’t gonna front, I felt fucked up for callin’ my moms a bitch ’cause no matter what, she’s still my moms. But how she came at me was real fucked up. Moms or not, I’m not the fuckin’ one. Still, a bitch broke down and called her to apologize.

  “What?” she snapped when she answered her cell. Of course she knew it was me, thanks to caller ID.

  “I’m only callin’ to apologize for callin’ you out ya name. But other than that—”

  “Oh, hell no! Fuck ya apology, you disrespectful little bitch. I’ma bust that ass when I see you. You really fucked up, Kat. I don’t give a fuck what you think I did or didn’t do for you, I’m still ya gotdamn mother. I ain’t never disrespect my mother, and she used to beat my ass with any-and-every-gotdamn-thing she got her hands on…”

  That’s because ya ass was fast ’n hot, I thought, rollin’ my eyes.

  “…But you, I just let your ass run wild. And now you done took it too muthafucking far. Since you think you so gotdamn gangster with yours; since you think you grown enough to talk slick and greasy to me, I promise you, ya ass is gonna see what it’s like to really get it in with a Brooklyn bitch ’cause me and ya aunts—”

  I couldn’t believe this shit. My own mother was on some high school shit, talkin’ like she was gonna have me jumped. For a woman who didn’t drink or get high, the way she acted sometimes made me wonder. This was so over the top for me. The crazy thing was, she really had no idea who I was or how I got down. And I aleady knew in my heart, if they tried it, it would be messy. There was no way I was gonna ever let a bunch of bitches jump me, especially some old ones, family or not.

  All the years she let her niggas disrespect her ass, and not once did she stand up to any of ’em. She’d fight a bitch in the streets before she went upside a muhfucka’s head for puttin’ his hands on her. She’d let him run her nerves down into the fuckin’ ground, stressin’ and wringin’ her hands over a sorry nigga. And not once did she think ’bout, or consider, how that shit was gonna affect me—all that yellin’ and screamin’ and cursin’ and cryin’ and beggin’ and breakin’ shit. Not once did she fuckin’ consider me! All the years she allowed me to do me without structure or restrictions or rules, she didn’t raise me, and she damn sure didn’t show me love. The streets did. Now all of a sudden she wanna be on some tough-girl shit, talkin’ ’bout she’s my mother and deserves to be respected. As far as I was concerned, she was a day late and a dollar too fuckin’ short.

  I lit another L. “Listen,” I said, cuttin’ her off, and takin’ a pull off my blunt. “I ain’t call you for all that. Do what you feel ya gotta do. I’m not pressed. I shouldn’t’ve called you a bitch, but I said it, and I can’t take it back. Nor do I wanna. ’Cause, keepin’ it real, you are a bitch.”

  “I’m your mother!” she yelled.

  “Then get over ya’self and start actin’ like one.”

  “Kat, watch how the fuck you talk to me! I’m not one of them whore-ass bitches you run with.”

  “I can’t tell,” I said back.

  “What?!?” she screamed.

  “You heard me.”

  “Kat, what did I ever do to you for you to be so fucking hateful?”

  Although I wanted to scream on her ass, I kept calm. I figured it didn’t make sense to have both of us yellin’ and screamin’ like two wild bitches. “Okay, so either you really don’t have a clue or this is your version of selective amnesia.” I sighed, pausin’. I let the silence steady my voice and give me time to think before I spoke ’cause a bitch was ready to blast her ass. As I said, I’ve kept a lotta shit in with this woman. Out of respect. Out of some fucked hope that one day we’d have something that resembled a mother-daughter connection. But the older I get, the clearer this picture becomes. We will never, ever, be fuckin’ close, and a bitch is tired of wishin’ and hopin’ for shit that ain’t gonna happen. And I’m fuckin’ done with tryna hold on to somethin’ that ain’t worth holdin’ on to. Yes, I know I’m ’posed to honor and respect my mother no matter what, but dammit…a bitch can only take but so fuckin’ much. And right about now, this bitch had reached her limit.

  “You want the truth, huh, mother? Well, how ’bout I give it straight. You opened up your fuckin’ legs! You chose dick over me. You never had time for me. You treated me fucked up. No, you never beat me; you fuckin’ ignored me. But as far as I’m concerned, that’s worse than if you woulda beat my ass every damn day. Some kinda attention woulda been better than nothin’ at all. No matter how hard I tried to love you, you never wanted to love me back.”

  “What kinda shit is that! Of course I loved you. I gave birth to you. I raised you. I made sacrifices. If that’s not love, then I don’t know what to tell you.”

  I was so fuckin’ done with her. “You sacrificed what? What was it that you really gave up, huh?”

  “My life!” she snapped. “I gave up my fucking dreams.”

  “And that’s my fault? Oh, please. That’s a bunch of shit. The only thing you spent ya life dreamin’ ’bout was some nigga, and how big his dick was. The only thing you gave up was ya pussy. You couldn’t be so bothered to be a fuckin’ mother. But that’s my fault, right? It’s my fault ya ass tricked ya money and life up on dick, yeah, okay. Well, was it my fault ya ass got pregnant? Was it my fault ya ass had a bullshit job and we had to live
paycheck to paycheck? Was it my fault my father fucked a slew of bitches and got locked up on ya ass? Was it my fault the niggas you ran behind tryna love didn’t love you back? Yeah, it’s all my fault that ya ass never wanted nothin’ more than what ya already got. That’s right, Juanita, blame me for your fucked-up, miserable life.”

  “Oh, now you done gone from callin’ me bitch to Juanita. This is the disrespectful shit I’m talkin’ ’bout. If you were in front of me, I’d knock your fucking teeth out.”

  “I seriously doubt I would sit there and let you get that off,” I said, takin’ two hard pulls on my blunt. I needed a drink. I got up from my seat and went downstairs to my bar to pour some Rémy in a glass. I tossed it back, then poured another. “If you didn’t put ya hands on me when I was a kid, what the hell makes you think I’d let you put ya damn hands on me now? But tell me this. When you gonna start actin’ ya age instead of tryna be on some ’round-the-way-chick shit? You can’t compete with me, sweetie. If anyone has ever been jealous, it’s been you,” I said, walkin’ back upstairs, then over to my balcony. I opened it and stepped outside.

  “Kat, I’m tellin’ ya ass right now. Keep disrespectin’ me, okay, and see what happens the next time you bring ya ass to Brooklyn. I’m not gonna tell you no more. You had better start showin’ me some muthafucking respect or you are gonna find ya ass beat the fuck down.”

  “Like I said, you need to act ya age, instead of runnin’ ’round actin’ like you still in ya twenties. You need to really let it go. If you want me to respect you like a mother, then, like I said, try actin’ like one. Then again, you wouldn’t know how to do that since you’ve never tried it. But you right. I don’t respect ya ass. I never have ’cause you never gave me a reason to. Please don’t come at me ’bout no damn respect ’cause at the end of the muthafuckin’ day, if a bitch wants respect, then she gotta know how to give it, real talk.