by K'wan
Larry was a portly young man, with a belly like a honey jar. He wore his hair in zigzag braids that day, tied off by black rubber bands on the end. Larry and Paul had been friends since grade school, both running in the same circle of troublemakers. While Paul was serving time for credit fraud, Larry had managed to square up and get a job. Though he still sold weed in the hood, loading UPS trucks was his reportable income.
Larry brushed past Paul, giving him a friendly pat on the back. “‘Sup, nigga?”
“Larry, how many times I gotta ask you about not popping up at my spot?” Paul frowned. “For all you know, I might’ve been in here with a bitch.”
“Bullshit.” Larry flopped on the sofa. “That might’ve been a possibility a few months ago, but you ain’t built like that no more.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
Larry pulled a sack of weed from his pocket and a Dutch. “Come on, son. You ain’t gotta front for me. Ever since your ass got with Marlene, you’ve developed a tender dick.”
“Fuck outta here.” Paul dipped a larger brush into a tray of green paint. “I’m still the same old G.”
Larry looked at Paul disbelievingly, crushing some buds up into the now split cigar. “Paul, you know Marlene got you like that.”
“Marlene ain’t got me like nothing, Larry. I can still get outta here and pull any bitch I want.”
“I’m sure you could, my man, but the truth of the matter is, you ain’t got that fire in you no more. Its cool, though, it happens to the best of us. Just not a true player like me.”
“Man, fuck you!” Paul spat.
“The truth is the light, dawg,” Larry responded. “If you got a soft spot for these hos, then you got a soft spot.”
“I ain’t got no love for a bitch, kid. My heart pumps straight ice water.”
“Ice water, my ass. Paul, every time you get with a chick who seems okay, you wife the ho. I know you, kid. Look at Rhonda.”
“Here we go with this shit. Why don’t you leave that alone, Larry?”
“Because it’s a prime example of what I’m talking about. When you got with her, we all told you to hit it and quit it, but you didn’t listen. You catch feelings for her and ended up hit. When she got pregnant, I told you to make her have an abortion, but you wouldn’t listen. She starts kicking that pro-life shit in your ear and you fall for it. Don’t get me wrong, I love P.J. like my own flesh and blood, but you got caught up, man.”
Paul became defensive. “I ain’t trying to hear that shit, man. Rhonda is a bitch and a half, but the kid is innocent. I love my seed and I’m gonna make sure he’s good.”
“And I applaud you for that.” Larry lit the blunt. “But the downside to having a kid with a bitch who ain’t about nothing is you’re bound to her and her bullshit.”
“Man, what Rhonda eats don’t make me shit. She has her life and I have mine. We don’t fuck with each other like that.”
“And that still ain’t stopping her from throwing a monkey wrench in your shit every chance she gets. How many times have you been trying to get your quality time with Marlene and Rhonda blows your phone up?”
“Man, what am I supposed to do, ban her from calling my phone? It could be something with P.J.”
“Paul, you know that chick calls your phone just to piss Marlene off. She’s on the other end of your jack twenty times a day, whether it’s about P.J. or not. She’s just a royal pain in the ass. If you analyze it, you know I’m right.”
“Thank you, Maury. Any more relationship advice?”
“I just call ’em like I see ’em, Paul.”
“Fuck you. What the hell are you doing here anyway?”
“I came by to see my dude.” Larry passed the weed off. “Figured you might like to come out of the dungeon for a while and have some fun.”
“What you trying to get into?”
“Hit a few blocks and see what’s good in the hood. I hear there’s a game at the Kingdome today. You know it’s always bitches out there, kid.”
“Oh, hell yeah!” Paul said excitedly. “Give me a few minutes to wash this paint off and get dressed.”
“That’s my nigga. Make it happen.”
Paul went off into the bathroom to start getting ready, leaving Larry in the living room, smoking. He paced the tiny living area, examining the different works that Paul had on display. Larry always marveled at how talented his friend was. Though he was from a world of ugliness, same as everyone else, he still managed to find some beauty in it. Paul had really thrown himself into his art since P.J. was born. He wanted to provide the life for his son that he had been so long deprived. The job market wasn’t offering him much above minimum wage, so it was vital that he succeed with his artwork. If he could manage to break into the circuit by selling a few paintings, just maybe, P.J. would have a chance.
Larry’s attention was drawn by the ringing phone. He was going to let the machine get it, until Paul called from the back and asked him to pick it up. He took the cordless off the base and looked at the caller ID. When he saw the name on the little screen, he again thought about just not picking up.
“Hello,” Larry said into the receiver.
“Who is this?” the caller asked with much attitude.
“What’s up, Rhonda.”
“Who is this, Larry? What you doing answering Paul’s phone?”
“He’s in the bathroom. Something I can help you with?”
“Nigga, you can’t do nothing for me but put Paul on the phone.”
Larry sighed. “Rhonda, I told you he’s in the bathroom. I’ll have him call you back when he comes out.”
“You know what, Larry? You’re turning into as big a liar as Paul. He’s probably sitting right there, telling you to feed me this story.”
“Rhonda, that’s my word, the nigga is in the bathroom. I ain’t got no kids with you, so I ain’t gotta lie to you.”
“Oh, so you’re admitting that ya boy be lying to me?” she asked suspiciously.
“I didn’t say that, Rhonda … look, I’m not going through this shit with you. Either I can have him call you back, or you can wait on the line until he comes out,” Larry said sarcastically.
“I’ll wait,” she shot back.
Larry looked at the phone and shrugged his shoulders. He placed the phone down on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to raid Paul’s refrigerator.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later, Paul came out of the back wearing denim shorts and a white T-shirt. Larry was lounging on the futon, drinking a Red Stripe and flicking the channels. Paul was used to his friend’s mooching ways, so he didn’t bother to say anything. He glanced at the coffee table and noticed that his phone was on.
He snatched it up and clicked the off button. “Larry, you couldn’t turn the fucking phone off after you used it?”
“I didn’t use it.” Larry took a gulp of his beer. “You had a call.”
“Well, did they leave a message?”
“Nah, Rhonda didn’t leave no message. She was still on the line the last time I checked.”
Paul looked at his friend. Because of Larry’s bullshit, he knew that he’d have to hear Rhonda’s mouth. Before he could press the issue, the phone rang. As soon as he clicked it on, shouting came from the other end.
“You muthafuckas better stop playing with me!” Rhonda barked. “Got a bitch on hold for forever. Y’all be on some bullshit.”
“Rhonda, don’t be calling my house yelling and shit, all right?”
“Fuck you, Paul. If you didn’t want to talk, you should’ve said so. You ain’t gotta have Larry lie for you.”
“Rhonda, what the hell are you talking about? Never mind. What do you want?”
“I was calling to tell you that your son needs some sneakers.”
“Sneakers? Didn’t I give you the money for a pair of sneakers two weeks ago?” he asked.
“I had to go tap into that. These muthafuckas at the welfare fucked up on my food sta
mps, so I had to use cash when I went shopping. We gotta eat, don’t we?”
Paul let out a long sigh. “Rhonda, how many times do I have to tell you about budgeting?”
“Budgeting? Paul, you seem to forget that I got three kids. Welfare don’t hardly give me shit, so I gotta make due with what I got.”
“Rhonda, you get welfare and Social Security. What the fuck do you do with your money?”
“Me and my kids got expenses. You know how much Pooh’s sneakers cost? That little muthafucka is wearing grown man sizes now. Let’s not forget how much it cost to clothe us all. You know I don’t put my kids in no cheap shit.”
“Rhonda, you know this job I got ain’t really paying shit, so the money is tight. When I give you something for P.J., you gotta stretch it.”
“Stretch it?” Rhonda asked nasally. “Shit, you act like you be setting it out like that. That little bit of money you drop off ain’t really nothing. I got three kids.”
“Yeah, and I only have one,” he reminded her.
“Oh, I forgot how you do it. Paul is only concerned about P.J. Fuck the rest of us, huh?”
“Rhonda, don’t make it like I don’t hit you with bread for all of them when I have it. I don’t see you calling none of your other babies’ fathers singing them the same bullshit story.”
“That’s because they ain’t shit. Them niggaz ain’t never do nothing for my kids.”
“So I gotta suffer because they’re fucked up?”
“You know what? Forget it, Paul. You ain’t gotta give me shit. I should’ve listened to my mother and put P.J. on my budget. That way I wouldn’t have to ask nobody for shit. That’s okay, though, I’ll just talk to my worker in the morning.”
“Why you always gotta fuck with me?” Paul asked heatedly. “You know damn well I ain’t letting you make my son no welfare baby. As long as I can get out and work, P.J. ain’t going on no damn welfare. It’ll be just my luck, I’ll finally sell one of my paintings and welfare will want their cut for some shit you put together. It ain’t gonna happen, Rhonda.”
“You ain’t my man, or my daddy, Paul. You can’t tell me what to do. If I put P.J. on, my stamps and cash will go up. Shit, it’s gotta be better than the little bit of change you call yourself dropping on me once a month.”
“You know you’re playing yourself. I take care of P.J. all year-round, and still give your sack-chasing ass money. Give me a fucking break.”
“Oh, I’ll give you a break. If I take P.J. and move away, you won’t have to worry about it. Stop fucking with me, Paul. You already know P.J.’s size, so I ain’t gotta tell you. ’Bye, nigga!”
“You fucking bitch!” Paul screamed into the phone, but the line was already dead.
* * *
Rhonda hung up the phone and enjoyed a devilish giggle. There was something about plucking Paul’s nerves that brought her a sick joy. She tried to act like she was truly over him, but it was a lie. Paul had been the best thing to ever happen to her. He might not have been the most romantic cat, but he took care of home. He always made sure Rhonda and her children didn’t go without, even before P.J. came along. In the end, it was her own laziness and greed that drove him away.
Paul had moved on to greener pastures. He was rebuilding his life, and even had someone new. Rhonda had met her twice, and could honestly say that she couldn’t stand the bitch. She paraded around in her little business suits and pressed hair, making Rhonda want to choke the life from her. It wasn’t that Marlene had ever done anything wrong to her, Rhonda was just hating.
She had tried on several occasions to get back into Paul’s good graces, but always ended up coming up short. She thought it was because of Marlene, but the reality was that Paul was just fed up with Rhonda’s shit. He no longer had the patience for her or her ways.
It didn’t matter to Rhonda, though. He could have his happy life and everything in it. As long as she had P.J., Paul would be bound to her. He might turn her away now, but there would come a day when he would give in to her advances.
A knock on the front door brought Rhonda out of her plotting. Alisha came out of the back room to get it, but Rhonda beat her to it. She opened the door and a dark-skinned kid, wearing a fitted Yankee cap and a white T-shirt, strode in.
“Alisha,” Rhonda said and turned to her daughter. “Take P.J. and Pooh outside. I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Why I gotta take them?” Alisha whined, and was rewarded by an open-hand slap.
“Don’t be asking me no fucking questions. Just do what the fuck I tell you,” Rhonda scolded.
Alisha clutched her face and scampered to the back of the apartment crying. A few minutes later she came out with the two boys in tow. She shot Rhonda a look, but didn’t dare open her mouth.
When the children were out the door, Rhonda turned back to the young man in the cap. “What’s popping, daddy? I missed you.”
The young man just smiled, showing off his tobacco-stained teeth. He sat on the couch and undid his jeans, letting his dick rest against his thigh. He stroked himself with his left hand and beckoned to her with his right. Without hesitation, Rhonda dropped down and blessed him.
* * *
Larry shook his head and relit the blunt. “I don’t know why you even get yourself worked up, man.”
“This bitch is always playing with me, Larry.” Paul tossed the phone on the futon and sat in the computer chair opposite Larry. “I do what I’m supposed to as a parent, and I still get the short end of the stick.”
Larry shrugged and handed Paul the blunt. “That’s your own fault.”
“How do you figure that?” Paul snatched it. “I’m wrong for being a good father?”
“Nah, you the man for that. You wrong for getting crossed up in that in the first place. We tried to tell you about Rhonda, but you didn’t listen. Now you got this bitch in your head, driving you up the wall. You’re doing what you can, kid. Don’t stress it.”
“How can I not stress it, Larry? That’s my seed.”
Larry leaned forward and became serious. “Paul, let’s take the gloves off for a minute. You come home from your bid, and Rhonda’s waiting on you with a bundle of joy. Keep in mind, you had no idea what the fuck she was doing out here unless one of us told you. Even when we did bring certain shit to your attention, you downplayed it. When I told you to make her take a paternity test, you let her talk you out of it.”
“Man, I know that’s my seed.”
Larry raised an eyebrow. “Do you? Paul, I know you and Rhonda had some good times, trust me, I do. You was laying up in her crib, eating good and tapping that ass, but do you really believe you’re the only one that was hitting it?” Seeing anger flash across his friend’s face, Larry softened his approach. “Paul, you know you’re my nigga from now till the end of this, but we all knew Rhonda was scandalous. I’m just keeping it real with you, my dude.”
“Well, you ain’t helping.” Paul huffed, killing the blunt roach. “Man, fuck this depressing-ass shit. Let’s hit the streets and see what’s up with these hos on Twelfth.”
“That’s what I’m talking about. Let’s do the damn thang!”
Paul headed for the front door, followed by Larry. The big man stopped short and walked back to the coffee table. He downed the rest of his beer and followed his friend out the door.
3
Billy sat behind the wheel of her mother’s ’95 Saturn, glancing at her watch periodically. They had been parked in front of Rhonda’s building for almost twenty minutes, but there was still no sign of her. All three of the girls in the car were annoyed, but Reese was the one who voiced it.
“What the fuck is taking this bitch so long?” Reese sucked her slightly crooked teeth.
“You know how slow Rhonda is,” Billy said, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. Of all their crew, she and Yoshi were the prettiest. Billy was statuesque, standing at five foot ten in flats. Her skin fluctuated between honey and reddish brown, depending on the season. B
illy had the look of a model, but sports was where her heart was.
“That’s why I can’t fuck with her. By the time we make it out there, the park is gonna be packed,” she continued, cradling her cell phone to her ear. She had been trying to call Teddy for the last hour and was having no luck, which shouldn’t have surprised her. That coupled with Rhonda having them waiting in front of the building in the heat only added to her aggravation.
“I didn’t think it would matter to you, Reese. It ain’t like you’re going to watch the game,” Billy teased.
“Yeah, Reese is trying to catch a baller,” Jean added.
“Fuck you, Billy. And Jean, you know I don’t really fuck with you like that, so take is easy.”
“Why you getting mad at her?” Billy asked. “She ain’t said nothing that ain’t true. You know you go to the games to check for the niggaz.”
“I can’t even front, it do be some fine niggaz at the Kingdome.” Reese chuckled. “But y’all hos wouldn’t know nothing about it.”
“Oh, so you got jokes now?” Jean sat up. “Ain’t no shame in my game. I don’t mind a stiff dick, but ain’t nothing like a wet pussy.” She rubbed her meaty hands together and looked hungrily at Reese.
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re looking back here for. I’m strictly dickly.” Reese glared at her.
Billy laughed. “Jean, please stop playing with this girl, with her homophobic ass.”
“I ain’t homo nothing. I just don’t play that shit. Y’all keep them kind of games to yourselves.”
“What do you mean, ‘y’ all’?” Billy asked defensively.
“You heard, Billy. You’re damn near as hard as this heifer.” Reese thumbed towards Jean.
“Reese, you need to quit.”
“Quit, my ass. Billy, when is the last time you wore a skirt?”
“I wish you could hear yourself, Reese. So you mean to say that because I wear jeans most of the time, I’m not feminine? You sound like my mother.”
“You need to listen to her.”
“Whatever, bitch. I know who I am, regardless of what anyone says.”
