Once I got back in the car, I ignored the person waiting for my spot and rolled up a fat one to drive home to. Busting a fat nut was always better when I was high, and I knew Spice was about to come up off some neck once I surprised her with these gifts.
* * *
“Honey, is that you?” Spice called out when she heard the door open.
“Yeah,” I answered, stepping over the threshold to the aroma of jerk chicken.
Spice could cook like a Caribbean chef, and she did it all the time. Unlike Zaria, she did not complain or keep it simple or the same. There was always a plate of food for me in the microwave when I got home from hustling or cheating.
“Hey,” Spice sang, meeting me in the hallway. “I’m ready just like you said to be.”
“Good girl.” I bent down and kissed her lips, then handed her the jewelry store bag.
I waited on her to open it and thank me with a million kisses and a great big hug. Then I told her she better not be down at the pawn shop again unless she was ready to end what we had going on.
“You have my word on it.” She made a promise that she vowed to keep.
I then took the ring from the bag and gave her my planned-out speech. I’d fine-tuned and critiqued it in the car on the way home and delivered it perfectly. I was not sure if she heard any words, though, ’cause she was too busy unbuckling my pants to get my penis down her throat.
After her stomach was loaded up and my balls were unloaded, we happily loaded up in the truck with her son buckled in the back seat. With my day going good, I should have never planned on making a stop in the hood, especially as a family, like the one that Zaria was dying to have with me.
“Baby, as soon as I pick up my money off the block to sponsor our day out, I’m going to turn my phone off and let Izzi handle business. Are you good with that?” I didn’t care about her answer, but hey, I could put up a front like I cared.
“Yup, honey. I’m good.” She was staring at her ring in a daze, probably thinking about exactly what I told her not to.
Zaria
Izzi and I had a spectacular, unbelievable night. I truly felt like there was a deep connection made between us, but I didn’t know for sure, and I was not about to jump to any conclusion and get my feelings hurt. There’d been enough of that going on.
Though I was sleeping with Izzi, I still had to think smart and question what his motive really was. Was he trying to score with Nardo’s baby momma just for ego’s sake? Was I supposed to be a distraction for his bigger plan? Did he really like me like I thought I liked him? Or hell, was I just caught up in the attention he was giving me, and not really in him? I could not let me being lonely and desperate for Nardo’s loyalty for all of these years fade to dark now that I was fuckin’ his best friend.
Regardless of how many different ways I answered the questions or tried playing out many different scenarios he could have been using me for, I decided to let go of my concerns and enjoy hooking up with him. I deserved a li’l fun, a lot of attention, and some good-ass stroke on a consistent basis. I was down to ride for however long whatever we had going lasted, and it did not have to have a label to keep a life.
Izzi was a distraction from Nardo. When I was with him, I felt so much power and control of my feelings. Izzi was like the medicine for my heartbreak. You know what they say about having another man to get over the ex-man. When I was laid up with Izzi, I was not crying and throwing a pity party for myself. There were not any tears, but me screaming, “Fuck Nardo, his bitches, his lies, and all the drama that came along with him!”
The only part of the date that went berserk and that I still couldn’t wrap my mind around was that I let Izzi raw without a condom. Although the skin-to-skin strokes felt so much better and made the multiple orgasms much more intense, I knew that slip-up was something that couldn’t happen again—let alone continuously happen. It was one thing to get over Nardo with Izzi, or even enjoy the dick so much that I thought a relationship could come from it, but I would walk the plank straight into hell before having two babies by best friends. All things happen for a reason, and I was thankful for my doctor’s appointment I was about to be early for.
Checking in with Cidney’s babysitter to make sure all was well, I was on my merry way to get an exam and the much-needed birth control I was not leaving her office without. I was hoping to get the shot for instant protection so I would not miss a beat in getting some more skin-to-skin strokes from Izzi. As nasty as it sounds, I thought about him while spreading my legs on the stirrups, which made me wetter during the exam.
* * *
I went to the doctor happy because I was going for birth control, but I ended up leaving the office in complete denial and ready to see a psychiatrist for depression.
“No, no, no!” I cried out, slamming my fist onto the steering wheel, drawing attention to myself.
My legs were weak, and my body trembled. Life was nothing but a huge, twisted spiral that only seemed to go in a downward direction for me. I know they say knowledge costs and that karma is a bitch, but I couldn’t keep taking the mighty blows.
Feeling remorse, I dialed Nardo’s number. I was not expecting him to answer, but I was still let down when his voice mail popped on. There could have been an emergency with Cidney and he would not have known, busy ignoring me to prove a point that I was not important. I carefully chose my words when I left him a voice mail, not wanting to set him off and give him another reason to hate me. I then proceeded to follow through with a text message that I was not on no bullshit but really needed to speak with him about something urgently important.
I sat in the parking lot of the clinic for ten minutes, clutching the positive pregnancy test results, waiting on Nardo to call back. The only reason I pulled out of my spot was because the security guard asked me to move for another patient.
My heart was torn in a million pieces, and I was more than confused. On my drive to the doctor, my mind was racing about how Izzi might have felt about me; leaving from the doctor I had new sets of much more serious questions. Like, should I keep this unborn, innocent baby, or should I give it back to God?
My mental state was confused, and going through an emotional pregnancy at this stage in the game would only deteriorate the situation. I was trying desperately to hold on to my sanity. Me and Nardo were beyond the point of reconciliation. Unsure if I was even capable of living my own life for nine months, I grieved. Could I really carry and produce another one of his seeds? I knew there wasn’t a chance for it to be Izzi’s baby because the time didn’t add up.
My phone barely rang one time before I answered it in a fatigued murmur. “Hey, what’s up,” I whined to Nardo. “I’m glad you called me back.”
“What’s the damn emergency, Z? Is Cid okay?” He wasted no time with formalities or putting on a front like he was concerned or cared about me.
“Yeah, she’s good, but we have to talk.”
There was a silence on the phone that made me think he’d hung up on me. Right when I was getting ready to pull the phone from my cheek to check, he cut into me with short patience.
“Well, be quick about whatever it is you’ve gotta say. Just be mindful that I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”
Quick to bite my tongue so I would not snap on him and get hung up on before I was able to get out what I needed to say, I stuck to the game plan of playing it cool.
“I would rather talk to you about it in person.” My voice cracked from me holding back the tears.
Although I usually tried to play tough and like I could stomach all the gut-wrenching blows Nardo delivered, right at this very second, I wanted him to hear in my voice that something was terribly wrong with me on the inside. I wanted him to hear that I was emotional on a whole different level.
“I ain’t even trying to see you, Z.” He harshly rejected my plea without hesitating.
“But—” I went to beg for him to hear me out but was cut off.
“But nothing, Zaria
. I tried playing cordial and cool with you the other day, but you came up out of your bag with some bullshit, like you always do. It is draining dealing with you, and unfortunately, today is not the day. So, if nothing is wrong with Cidney, don’t call this phone back after I hang up on you. As tough as you’ve been acting lately, you shouldn’t be crying any damn way.”
“Oh my God, Nardo. Stop going off and please listen,” I begged, starting to panic because I did not want him to hang up.
I knew from arguing with Nardo over the years and countless times that he would hang up on me and ignore a hundred and one calls of mine effortlessly. He was not one of those dudes who would keep answering to hang up, or even turn his phone off so I’d eventually stop calling or fill his voice mail up. Nardo would mock and antagonize me, in an attempt to break me down and hurt me worse, by letting the phone ring over and over again, just to keep me thinking I had a chance of him answering. Instead of fighting against him leaving, I should be running the other way. But I wasn’t. I was actually more locked in with Nardo than I actually planned this time around.
“Bye, Z—” Nardo got ready to say my name and hang up, but I cut him off.
“I’m pregnant, and it is yours.”
There was an uncomfortable silence on the phone that scared me—right before Nardo cursed me out. “Quit calling me for attention with yo’ lying ass. There’s no reason to think that news is for me. Call yo’ other nigga,” he responded like I was a joke then hung up.
I tried calling back, but his line was going directly to voice mail. That made my blood boil because that was not how he usually rolled.
“For real, Nardo? That’s how you wanna play me?” I growled, mad as hell that I could not get through. I would rather call and get ignored than be immediately shut down. My heart sank each time I was shut down.
Swerving my car over to the curb, I gritted my teeth, hearing my rims scratch against the concrete. I was really tripping and about to tear my shit up unnecessarily, which meant I really needed to take a pause for the cause and breathe. Nardo was usually the one who took my car in for oil changes, repairs, and to even get air in the tires. With us beefing, I would be stranded for sure if something came up wrong with it.
After inhaling and exhaling a few times with my eyes closed, my heart rate did not slow down. I popped my eyes open and said “Fuck!” trying to get a grip. I did not have any of my godbrother’s green goodness to help ease my pain, and I was fed up with Nardo always pushing my back against the wall. I was about to start doing some shoving of my own.
Dumping the contents of my purse out onto the front seat, I fumbled through all the junk in search of the ripped sheet of notebook paper with Spice’s number on it. Almost starting to panic that I had mistakenly thrown it away, I came across it and held it up to sky like it was a hundred-dollar bill. To me, her seven digits were like money. I dialed them with a smile on my face, making sure to press the notorious *67 to make my identity show up as anonymous.
Had it been me seeing an unknown call coming through on my cell phone screen, I would have sent it to my voice mail for screening purposes. Spice’s dumb ass answered, though, in her creepy Jamaican accent that made my skin crawl, and after only three rings. My smile faded as soon as I heard how chipper she was—with my baby daddy and a few other familiar voices in the background.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Hello,” Spice kept trying to get me to respond, though she did not know it was me.
A small part of me felt like Spice did know it was me, however, and that she was rubbing her position in my face. I now know firsthand how Melanie must have felt the day I intentionally answered Nardo’s cell while they were technically still boyfriend and girlfriend—low as hell on the totem pole and replaceable.
I was biting my lip, my leg was shaking uncontrollably, and my stomach was turning up in knots that were so vicious I thought I was about to miscarry. Nardo was doing more than embarrassing me in front of people, and it was stressing me out. I could not understand how we got so detached from one another for me to feel so inferior and low. This man was physically making me sick.
Holding my cell phone as close to my ear as it could go, I was trying to hone in on all the voices in the background in hopes that I would not hear Izzi’s. Him finding out I was carrying another one of Nardo’s babies would definitely put a stop to our creep sessions. I could not reveal the truth to Izzi until I knew this baby’s fate. And I wouldn’t know this baby’s fate until Nardo and I could have a grown-up conversation.
Hanging up the phone, I dropped it into my lap then pulled away from the curb without even checking my mirrors. My carelessness caused nothing but chaos and confusion as a slew of horns sounded off and cars swerved from colliding with me and other cars that were in traffic. My only concern was getting to the trap house. I was not planning on letting my foot up off the gas pedal until I was on Dexter Avenue.
When I finally pulled up on the block, it was like time came to an eerie standstill. Everyone ceased all transactions and gawked with amazement as I stepped out of the car. They might have been shocked to see me, but I was embarrassed to stand in front of them not knowing if Nardo had already said I was trying to trap him with another kid. Still and all, though, I stood with my head up. I had on the “woman beater” shades, of course, mainly because my eyes were bloodshot from the tears, but they did add to my “Negro, I ain’t to be fucked with” look.
Infuriated, I slammed my car door then took notice of Izzi, who was coming out of the spot. Even though he couldn’t see the hurt in my eyes to know that something was seriously wrong, he just shook his head with disappointment. I’d just made love to him, and here I was back chasing Nardo, behaving like he and I didn’t matter at all.
Sorry, Izzi, but I gotta do it!
It took an eternity to reach Renard. He was driving a Black Range Rover. JACK-ME was what the plate read. Whose it was I didn’t know, and trust I didn’t care. Spice, that braid-wearing floozy, sat posted in the passenger’s seat, looking at me as if I were the devil himself.
Ain’t this about a bitch. I mentally came to grips with what I was seeing.
I could see her ugly son tugging at my baby daddy’s arm, probably anxious to get moving. I absorbed the entire atmosphere as my daughter’s father set me on fire with his eyes. Knowing Renard’s two-timing, two-faced, low-down, backstabbing behind would come to Spice’s rescue if I tried to buck with her, my moves had to be carefully planned. Time just was not in my favor, so whatever jumped off from this point on was just fate.
“What the fuck is your purpose for being over here?” He tried clowning me as if our phone conversation had gone in one ear and out the other.
“Don’t play stupid. You know what the hell was just said to you about fifteen minutes ago. You gonna act dumb?” I zoned out, starting to get bouncy and amped up. He was pissing me off, trying to stunt in front of Spice and his petty workers.
“Get the fuck on, Z. I’m warning you,” he vehemently shouted, starting to open the car door as if I felt threatened.
If we scrapped, this would just be a cheap abortion.
“Don’t get out, Nardo. Let’s just go. She ain’t even worth this bullshit. My son is in the ride too, and I don’t want him around this hood garbage,” Spice urged, trying to pull Nardo back in the car, but he was not having it.
“Back up, Spice. Let me handle this.” He brushed her hand off his shoulder.
“Shut up, ho! This don’t have nothing to do with you. This right here . . .” I said, arrogantly pointing at both me and Nardo with my face twisted and my eyes bucked. “This is between me and him, this nothing-ass fool.” I placed my index finger to Nardo’s forehead and pushed. “And as for your son, fuck him too,” I disrespected recklessly. I was on track to make my way around to her side of the truck and smack the chick so me and her could get it in.
The entire neighborhood gathered as Nardo yoked me up quickly by my throat, body-slamming me onto the hood of an abandoned car.
“You ain’t nothing but trouble, Z. You been acting so childish, so bitter, and so petty, like a little piece of trash,” he judged harshly.
“Fuck you, Nardo. Trash, my ass. Was I trash when your dirty dick was all up in me making kids, huh? Was I trash then, nigga?”
He tightened his grip on me. “Naw, Zaria, it’s been fuck you! You’re just easy pussy, that’s all. You’s a good-for-nothing, begging, vindictive slut! I done told you before, and this is the final time. Stay the hell away from my new family. Ain’t shit I can do for ya anymore. Just let me go!” He released his hands from my now sore frame and began straightening his clothes.
“You’re gonna regret you ever messed over me with yo’ punk ass. Trust that. And that’s my word,” was the only thing I had left to say to Cidney’s father. In my book, he was already dead. Every move I made from now on would be constructed to fuck Nardo’s life up for the worse.
Nardo walking away toward Izzi, who was calling his name to get off me the entire time, gave me the window of opportunity I needed. Running up, I pounced in the truck, quickly letting one off in Spice’s jaw. Yanking her by those tacky braids, I rammed her forehead into the dashboard three or four good times. Before I could really beat her ass again, like at Kimmie’s, Nardo was dragging me out of the truck by my ankles. I was kicking and screaming.
“Get up off me, dude! I’m about to take this money-hungry tramp out the game once and for all,” I heard him say to Izzi as he was trying to pull him away from the truck and off me. “Loose me, nigga.” His words were firm.
“Watch yo’ muthafuckin’ mouth, guy, for real. This right here done went on long enough.” Izzi made his presence felt. “Let her go.”
“What?” Nardo redirected his rage, getting into Izzi’s face. “You putting yo’ dick in her or something? Why you so concerned?”
Loyal to His Lies Page 12
