Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang Page 31

  I grunt, handin’ the blunt back to ’er. “Yeah right. That’s not what you said.”

  “Whateva,” she huffs, takin’ a pull. I let the shit go ’cause I don’t care who she wants to fuck. I decide to tell ’er that after today I’m givin’ up blazin’. Well, uh, I’ma try. Shit, today’s my first day sparkin’ in almost two months. I know I can do it. She looks at me, noddin’ like she understands why. “Girl, you gotta do what you gotta do. You know I’m good wit’ it. We still pourin’ though, right?” I tell ’er not as much. Tell ’er that I need to keep my mind right if I wanna do shit right. She smiles. “Whew, no smokin’, no drinkin’ and no fuckin’? Hooker, you gonna be one cranky bitch.”

  I laugh. “Ho, who said anything ’bout no fuckin’?”

  “Well, now that you ain’t fuckin’ wit’ Allstar anymore, there goes ya steady supply’a dick.”

  My cell rings. I pull it outta my bag, lookin’ at the screen. It’s Tone. He’s been hittin’ me up on a regular, and I been kinda diggin’ his convo. Soon as I get back to Cali, I might have’ta ride down on this nigga’s cock. I grin, pressin’ ignore. “Not necessarily, boo; not necessarily.”

  Chanel hurriedly zooms in and outta traffic so we can get to the hospital to get Zaire, then head to Jersey to hit up Short Hills mall to buy up all the hot shit for lil’ boys.

  A WHOLE MONTH FLIES BY WIT’ ME STILL TRYNA FIND MY RHYTHM wit’ havin’ a baby in my life. The shit ain’t easy. This lil’ muhfucka wanna sleep all day and be up all night, playin’. But, he’s so damn cute. So, of course all I do is hold his ass. And he just coos, and drools, and smiles at me. But a bitch is exhausted!

  “Oh nooo, Mister Man. Wake ya lil’ ass up,” I say, unsnappin’ the legs of his sleeper, then changin’ his Pamper. He fusses, but I don’t give’a fuck. I slip the clean pamper underneath ’im, then unfasten the tabs on his Pamper. I make sure to cover his ding-a-ling so he doesn’t piss on me. I had’a learn the hard way when he pissed in my damn face. Oooh, I wanted to slap his face. But, then he smiled at me, and I got all mushy. Damn ’im! “We gotta get bathed,” I tell ’im as if he can understand what the hell I’m sayin’, “then get you ova to the studio so we can flick it up today.” We’re takin’ his first set of pictures today at noon, so he gotta represent. He already has some’a the illest shit out.

  The doorbell rings. I glance at the Spiderman clock on Zaire’s wall, frownin’. It’s 8:24 a.m. “Who da hell is at the door this time’a mornin’, huh, lil’ man?” I ask, scoopin’ ’im up in my arms, then walkin’ into my room to throw on a robe before goin’ downstairs to see who’s at the door. “We got unannounced company, and you know that shit don’t fly, ain’t that right, lil’ man?” He coos as I look through the peephole, shocked. What da fuck this bitch want? It’s Patrice. This ho has neva dared to come up to my doorstep. I didn’t even know the ho knew where I lived. Keep it cute, bitch. Don’t get nasty wit’ this chick. I swing open the door.

  “Can I help you?”

  She stares at the baby, then looks at me. “I was hopin’ we could talk. Can I come in, please?” She’s carryin’ gift bags stuffed wit’ items in both hands.

  Zaire grabs at my ear, tryna pull on the diamond stud in my ear. I grab his lil’ hand. “No, no,” I say to ’im, steppin’ back to let ’er in. “You have ten minutes.”

  “Thanks.” She walks in, and I shut the door behind ’er. I tell ’er to have a seat. Although I ain’t pressed ’bout her tryna get greasy wit’ it up in here, I silently hope Zaire doesn’t have’ta see me swing ’er through a wall. “Here,” she says, handin’ me the bags, “these are for da baby.”

  Bitch, I don’t want ya shit. Baby boy wants for nuthin’, ho. I take ’em from ’er. “Thanks. And his name is Zaire.”

  “I like that.” She looks ’round my place, takin’ a seat. I can tell the bitch’s uncomfortable. Shit, I am, too. It’s awkward as fuck. “Ya spot is beautiful.”

  I sit down on the otha side of ’er give. “Sweetie, I know you ain’t come here for no social call, so let’s not pussy-foot ’round. Get down to da real reason you here.”

  “I came to see my nephew,” she says, starin’ at ’im. “And to bring ’im his gifts. They’re from his grandmotha, me and Elise.”

  I blink, blink again. In my head I hear myself sayin’, “Bitch, puhleeze. Take ya gifts and ram up in ya slutty-stank pussy.” I remind myself that I have a baby in my arms. Remind myself that I said I am tryna change. I swallow back a buncha curse words. “You coulda called, first.” She tells me she’s been callin’ me for the last four weeks, that she’s left a buncha messages, and I haven’t called ’er back. I shrug. “I didn’t wanna talk.”

  Zaire starts gettin’ antsy. I bounce ’im up and down on my knee to calm ’im. She starts talkin’ baby talk to ’im and he grins and coos at ’er. “Can I hold ’im?”

  Bitch, no da fuck you can’t! I hear Chanel’s voice in my head. Ho, it ain’t always ’bout ya selfish ass. I take a deep breath, tell ’er to go wash ’er hands, then reluctantly give ’im to ’er when she returns. She kisses him on his lil’ forehead, then holds ’im up against ’er chest. She starts gettin’ all emotional ’n shit. “Ohmigod, he’s so precious. Kat, we gotta try ’n get ova this shit between us.” I tell ’er not to curse in front of Zaire. She apologizes. “I wanna be in my nephew’s life. And I’d like to be in yours again.”

  “That’ll neva happen,” I say, sittin’ back in my seat.

  She forces a smile. “We used to be like sistas.”

  “Yeah, ’til you dropped ya drawers and fu…screwed my man.”

  “That was a big mistake,” she says, wipin’ tears. She has Zaire facin’ ’er sittin’ on ’er knees, doin’ more baby talk. He starts fussin’ ’n fidgetin’. Bitch, he don’t wanna hear that shit. She tries to walkin’ ’round the room, bouncin’ ’im. That doesn’t work eitha.

  “He’s hungry,” I say, gettin’ up and takin’ ’im from ’er. I tell ’er to follow me into the kitchen so I can warm his bottle. “So why’d you do it?” It’s a question I neva asked ’er before. It’s a question I neva really wanted the answer to. I just cut ’er off and fought ’er e’ery chance I got ’cause I was hurt. She looks at me confused. I grab a burpin’ pad, then hand it to ’er along wit’ Zaire so she can feed ’im. She’s surprised. And so am I. I repeat the question. “Why’d you have’ta sleep wit’ B-Love?”

  “Keepin’ shi…ish real, I was jealous of you. And I was mad that he picked you ova me.”

  “Jealous? For what?”

  “Anywhere we went da niggas always ended up pressin’ you. You always got all da attention.”

  “And so did you.”

  “Yeah, but not da way you did. Niggas saw you as the ultimate catch. Yeah, I was a dime. But they saw you as da fifty-cent piece. I used to really be feelin’ some kinda way when we’d be somewhere and muhfuckas would try’n holla at you—first, then me. Or when we’d be walkin’ into a spot, all eyes would be on you, then me. Sometimes I felt like I had’a compete wit’ you. Even though I know that’s not what it was. It was all in my head. Still, I loved you, but secretly hated you for bein’ so eff’n fly. So when B-Love kinda dismissed me for you, I was feelin’ some kinda way. But then I ran into da nigga a few weeks later and he told me on da sly that he wanted to get at me, too. That he’d run me his dick and lace me wit’ wears and paper and shit, but I’d neva be wifey. I wanted da wifey slot, Kat. But he made it clear that only you’d have that title.”

  I grunt. “Mmmmph. So you let ya jealousy fu…eff up our relationship all ’cause ya schemin’-ass, hot pussy wanted what I had?”

  She nods. “Kat, I was all effed up back then.” And ya slutty-ass probably still is, I think, starin’ at ’er. Zaire has fallen asleep. I get up from my seat, and take ’im from ’er, glancin’ ova at the microwave clock. It reads: 9:27 a.m.

  “Listen, I ’preciate you comin’ through wit’ da gifts, and I ’preciate you keepin’ it real. But
, it’s time for you ta bounce, boo. Zaire and I got things to do today.”

  She gets up from ’er seat. “Yeah, I need to head back to Brooklyn, anyway. Thanks for lettin’ me see Zaire. He’s such a beautiful baby. I’m really surprised you are actually doin’ this.”

  “Doin’ what?”

  “Raisin’ ’im. You neva seemed like da type to wanna be tied down wit’ a baby. And we all know how much you hated ya moms.”

  “True. And at first I wasn’t beat for ’im. But after seein’ ’im and holdin’ ’im in my arms, I had’a change’a heart. Besides, I didn’t want ya’ll asses to get ’im.”

  She shakes ’er head, laughin’. “Of course you didn’t; that’s just you. But, it’s all good. He’s right where he needs to be—wit’ his big sista. I’m glad we had’a chance to talk. I hope we can do it again, soon. I know ya grandmotha and Elise would like to see Zaire, as well.”

  I buck my eyes. “Listen, don’t push it. I let you up in here. But don’t get it twisted. I ain’t beat for no family reunion-type shit. I don’t want nuthin’ to do wit’ ya moms.” Kat, it ain’t always ’bout ya selfish-ass. “Not right now, anyway,” I add, shakin’ Chanel’s voice outta my head, again. “Listen, I don’t like you, Patrice. So we ain’t eva gonna be what we used to be. And I ain’t gonna be fake ’bout it. But, I’m not gonna keep you away from Zaire just because I got issues wit’ you.” I know she saw the FOR SALE sign out on the lawn when she pulled up, so she gotta know I’m bouncin’. But since she ain’t mention nuthin’ ’bout it, I ain’t offerin’ shit. The bitch’ll figure it out soon enough when all’a my numbers are changed, again. And there’s no forwardin’ address.

  She smiles. “That’s all I ask.” She stares at me for a second, then says, “Kat, people can change. We may not eva get close again. But, hopefully, we can work on bein’ civil to each otha.”

  “Sweetie, whateva happens it’s gonna be for da sake of Zaire. That’s it.”

  She leans in to kiss Zaire on the cheek. “Thanks.”

  “Oh, and—da next time you wanna come through, make sure you call, first. Don’t show up at my door ’cause if you do, you won’t get in.”

  “Then you need to answer ya phone.”

  Bitch, puhleeze. I swing open the door. “Goodbye Pa…” I stop in midsentence, surprised at who’s standin’ in front of me, preparin’ to ring the bell.

  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 fuck—” 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.”

  Fuck 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 fucked up here. I haven’t slept or ate in weeks. I ain’t da kinda muhfucka 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 muhfucka 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 muhfucka; 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 fuck you so fuckin’ 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 muthafuckin’ 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 fuckin’ wit’ da bitch on da sly.”

  “Kat, I swear to you. I wasn’t fuckin’ 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 fuck 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 fuck 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 muhfucka 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 muhfucka 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 muhfucka in so he can love you.”

  “How you gonna love me? What da fuck you know ’bout lovin’ anyone other than ya’self? You’ve neva even been committed to a bitch. So what makes you think a muhfucka like you can be faithful? How da fuck you know you even capable of love?”

  “’Cause I’m not that muhfucka 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 muhfucka 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 muhfucka is crazy. Would this muhfucka 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 muhfucka’s lights out?

  “I wanna understand you, baby. I wanna stand by you. Be the kinda man in ya dreams. I can be that muhfucka, Kat; real talk. Let a muhfucka love you, Kat.”

  “Da last muhfucka 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 fuckin’ 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.