Street Divas
Page 23
He chuckles.
“Uh-huh. Remember how that story ended, Terrell. You know, just because something creeps inside your head doesn’t mean that it’s a good idea,” I tell him.
“Why don’t you like LeShelle?”
I turn up my nose but choose my words carefully. “I never said that I didn’t like the girl.”
“You don’t have to. It’s written all over your face. I’ve been with her for almost five years, and you ain’t warmed up to her yet.”
“Terrell, it ain’t up to me to like her. She ain’t sleeping in my bed.”
“But?”
“But . . . watch yourself. I got a bad feeling about the trouble you’re in this time.”
“I’m gonna be a’ight, Momma. Ain’t I always?”
“You keep playing with the devil and eventually you’re going to lose. That’s a fact.” I reach over the table and take his hand. “About Christopher, baby, take him back. For me.” Terrell eased back in the chair and even attempted to pull his hand from mine, but I hold on to it. “Please?”
“I can’t do that. He’s my son and he belongs with me. I’m gonna raise him up. I’m gonna take care of him.”
“What makes him any different from the fifty-eleven children you got running around the city? Or even the one you got coming with Yo-Yo?”
Terrell groans and rolls his eyes to the back of his head. “Man, Momma Peaches. That whole situation is squashed.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
He sucks in a sharp breath and shakes his head. “Squash as in done. Over with. Hell, I don’t even know if that baby is even mine.”
“Ah. I see. So since Melanie supposedly did you wrong, everybody else is suspect?”
“Pretty much,” he spits. “Shariffa had a nigga on the side. Melanie was sleeping with my number-one enemy—for all I know, the bitch was a Flower from the jump. Why should Yolanda be any damn different?”
“What about you, Mr. Clean? I’ve told you I don’t know how many times that fuckin’ around with these little girls was going to come back and take a chunk out of your hardheaded ass. Now you don’t know whether you’re the damn daddy? Nah. You ain’t squashing shit. You’re gonna man the fuck up and you’re going to take care of Yo-Yo and her child as long as you’re drawing air into your lungs—or you’re going to have to start worrying about me busting a cap in your ass.”
“But, Momma—”
“Don’t ‘Momma Peaches’ me. You knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with that girl—just like you knew what you were getting into when you hooked up with the captain of police’s daughter. Boy, you ain’t the only muthafucka in these streets running game. You will not run all over Yo-Yo. You hear me? I know she’s not the sharpest tool in the toolbox, but I like that girl, and you’re going to do right by her and take care of that baby before it ends up with Children’s Services. You don’t want a relationship, fine. But you’re taking care of that baby. As for all those other bitches, if you want a faithful woman, then you need to be faithful. Not only are you fuckin’ all these bitches, but you’re also putting babies on them and then you just expect them to keep takin’ your bullshit. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Since when? You ain’t never left your man and his ass juggled you and my momma like a fuckin’ pimp.”
I whip my hand across Terrell’s face so fast and hard that it sounds like a gunshot. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
“Momma Peaches, I—”
“GET. THE. FUCK. OUT!”
He holds my gaze for half a second to see that I mean business. “All right,” he says softly, and then stands up.
“And next time you roll your ass over here, knock before you come into my house! I’m gonna start shooting first and asking questions later around here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I watch him as he strolls out of the kitchen. It’s not until I hear the click of the front door that I allow a tear to roll down my face.
33
Yolanda
I’ve never owned a gun before, but I’ve seen enough niggas use these muthafuckas to do what I gotta do. The way I figure it, murking LeShelle’s ass is gonna be a twofer. Justice for Baby Thug and getting my ass back in the game. All I need now is a way to smoke the bitch out, and then this beautiful semiautomatic I got for a couple of Benjamins is going to do the rest.
I know that Pit Bull is having a birthday party at Passions. I could roll over there and see if LeShelle puts in face time. If she does, I can be right there waiting to blast her ass back to the devil.
My smile grows as I take a couple of practice aims at the sixty-inch television screen in my living room. I keep imagining that the news anchor is LeShelle’s big monkey head. “RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT! You’re dead bitch.”
Fuck. What I would give to see her head exploding in front of my eyes. If I could, I’d run up and spit on her ass, too. Shit. I should’ve done this shit a long time ago. Maybe if I’d wised up after LeShelle had pistol-whipped my ass at FabDivas, Baby would still be here with me now.
I suck in a deep breath while regret crashes around inside of me. It shouldn’t have been up to Baby to defend me. This gun right here could’ve easily rock-a-byed LeShelle’s ass with quickness. Once LeShelle is out of the picture, I know Python will come back over here, looking for a shoulder and some ass to bury his troubles away in.
Shaking my head, I realize more than ever my mistake in rolling over to the construction company and making a big fool of myself. I wasn’t expecting Python to come at me sideways. I’m going to fix everything.
I kiss the tip of my gun.
“You’re going to fix all my troubles, aren’t you, baby?” I smile. “Baby. That’s what I’ll call you. My new Baby Thug.”
There is a rattle at the front door, but the chain on it stops my uninvited guest from just strolling into the apartment .
Who in the fuck? I jump straight up from the sofa and clumsily drop my new gat. Thank God the muthafucka isn’t loaded or I would probably have shot my damn foot off.
“Yolanda,” Python barks. “Why the fuck is this chain on the door?”
“Oh, shit.” I glance around the apartment and then try to bend over and pick up my gun, but I’m still sore and stiff from being dragged across concrete, and this big-ass belly isn’t helping matters either. I end up kicking the muthafucka under the sofa. “Here I come!”
“What the fuck are you doing?” he hollers back. “You tryna hide a nigga up in here?”
“What? Don’t be ridiculous!” I rush toward the door, doing this running wobble kind of thing. It’s the best I can do since my whole left side is still sore like a muthafucka. When I get a few feet away, Python throws his shoulder into it and breaks the chain right off.
I stop and stare at his big ass as he strolls into this muthafucka like he owns the fucking place.
“You took too damn long,” he says, walking past me and looking around.
“Sorry,” I say, but then slide on a smile. I rethink my whole program. Maybe I did do right by going out to see him. It got his ass over here. I want to launch into his arms, but clearly that has to wait until he checks out the entire apartment to make sure that I really don’t have some nigga stashed up here somewhere. “Satisfied?” I ask when he makes his way back to the living room.
Python grunts.
I ignore his sour mood and throw my arms around his thick neck and rain kisses all over his face. “I’ve missed you, baby, so much. Muah. Muah. Muah.”
He rolls his eyes, but I can tell that he loves this shit. All niggas love attention—forget what you’ve heard. “All right. All right.”
“You scared me, baby. I would never do no stupid shit like cheat on you. You got to know that. You got my word on that shit.” Before I know it, tears stream down my face. I can’t help it. The stress of the last couple of months hits me all at once.
Python looks at me and my tears and doesn’t say anything.
“Naw. I’m good.”
That fear spreads. Niggas don’t turn down food. “How about a beer?”
“Yeah. A’ight. Cool.” His black gaze settles on me, and I try to tell what he’s thinking, but the muthafucka is blessed with the perfect poker face.
“Okay. Make yourself at home,” I tell him, and then rush off to grab him a beer. While I’m in the kitchen, I pull myself together by taking several deep breaths. The shit doesn’t work. Regardless, I return to the living room with his cold beer and a smile on my face. “Here you go, baby.”
Python made himself comfortable, stretched out in the center of the sofa with his arms spread across the back. His eyes lock onto my bulging belly.
I’ve seen that look before. It’s the same one my other baby daddies got when they were trying to convince themselves that the baby you’re carrying ain’t theirs. Typical bullshit.
“You know we’re getting a blood test, right?” Python says.
“Whatever you want, baby.” I ease down next to him, but it turns into something more like a plop.
“Uh-huh.” He stares at me. “Since you supposedly ain’t fucking nobody else, what have you been doing this last couple of months while I was gone?”
I shrug. “Nothing. I’ve been waiting on you.” I slide against him, as close as I can, and then walk my fingers up his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back home—where you belong.”
His black gaze roams over to my big titties. “Damn. Those muthafuckas have gotten big as shit.”
I cup them up and give them a big squeeze. “You like them?”
“What’s not to like?”
He reaches over and pinches my shit hard. The pain that ripples across my face gives him an instant hard-on. “I’ve missed playing with you,” he says, and then pulls the top of my gown off. My big titties bounce free, and the next thing I know, he’s biting and gnawing on my shit like a starved animal.
Sex with Python has always been a painful event, but tonight it’s even more so because every ounce of my body is either sensitive from the pregnancy or sore from McGriff dragging my ass around. My painful whimpers and sharp breaths just play like music in Python’s ear.
I watch as his dick creeps down the inseam of his jeans. That’s all right. I’m going to handle whatever this muthafucka tosses my way like a damn soldier. I can’t afford not to.
When he rips the rest of the gown off my body, his head pops off my glazed and chewed titties, and he stares at the large scrape marks across the left side of my body, which are black and blue now. Python reaches over and presses a hand against it.
I suck in a sharp breath.
His gaze shifts to my face, and then he presses down again.
I hold my breath, but I can’t do anything about the pain rippling across my face.
Then he surprises me by saying, “Sorry about that. I’ll talk to McGriff about this shit.” He pulls away and stretches back with his beer.
Is that it? He’s not going to touch me now?
To confirm that shit, he sets his beer down and stands up.
I scramble to grab his hands. “Wait. Don’t go!”
He looks down at me.
“I . . . I was hoping that I’d get the chance to show you just how much I’ve missed you.” I tug him back down onto the sofa and waste no time trying to get his dick free of his pants.
“Nah. Nah. I didn’t even come over here for this. I want to let you know that until the blood test—”
“Python, I ain’t been fuckin’ no other niggas since we hooked up. I wouldn’t do that shit. So squash whatever the fuck LeShelle has been spitting in your ear. She just wants your ass to herself—that greedy bitch!” Realizing that I might have crossed a line, I look up at him with pleading eyes. “She don’t know that a powerful nigga like you needs a lot to be satisfied. I’ll cook for you, clean for you, and give you all the babies you want.” I’m hitting all the right notes, because my nigga is smiling as he caresses the side of my face.
“You really care for a nigga, huh?”
I grab his hand and kiss it. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Then show me.” He thrusts his hips forward.
Shit. He doesn’t have to ask my ass twice. I spring that fat monster out of his jeans and start slobbering and choking on his meat the way he fucking likes it.
“Sssssssss.” Python runs his hands through my hair until he grips the back of my head and holds me in place.
After that, my mouth is another pussy to him. He starts pounding against my tonsils like a boxer on a speed bag. When I think I’m getting used to the rhythm and can steal some air, he changes up and holds his shit against my windpipe and grinds his hips.
I can’t breathe, my chest hurts, and I’m starting to black out.
“That’s it, baby. Show your nigga how much you love this shit.”
I resist the temptation to push his hips back.
“That’s it, baby. Sssssssss. You love me?”
Since I can’t speak, I nod my head.
“You’d do anything for me?”
I nod again.
“You’d blast niggas for me?”
Nod.
“Lie for me?”
Nod.
“Die for me?”
Nod.
He laughs and grinds his hips some more. “If I asked you to die choking on this dick, you’d do that shit, baby?”
What?
He laughs again. “I asked you a question, Yo-Yo. You think your ass is better than what I got at home, so answer the muthafuckin’ question. If I fuckin’ choke you out with this dick right now, that’s okay with you?”
Is he fucking for real? My mind scrambles for something, but I’m starting to get a pain in my head and I feel weak. I muster up the courage to nod. As clear as a bell, Baby’s voice comes to me: stupid ho.
Above me, Python’s entire body shakes while he laughs, but at least he releases my head and whips his cock out of my mouth. I collapse onto the floor. The first gust of air is as painful as my scraped-up ass. After a while, my head clears, but I’m panting like a dog with tears rolling down my face.
Python gets down on the floor behind me and delivers a slap on my ass so hard that I cry out. “Get on your knees.”
I almost ask for him to give me a couple more seconds, but I’m supposed to be proving myself worthy to be wifey, so I squash that shit. Trembling and shaking, I get into the doggy-style position.
“Ahhh. Look at this ass,” he praises, and then delivers a second slap. “I’ve fucking missed this muthafucka.”
Slap!
He spreads my ass cheeks. “This fat bitch, here. Sssssss.” Python leans forward and swishes that forked tongue around the rim of my asshole, and I fucking melt like butter.
“Mmmmm,” he moans. He reaches down and jacks his dick while his tongue makes a deep Dumpster dive.
That choking shit floats right out of my mind as Python washes all four walls of my ass, but minutes later when he crams his thick, mushroom-headed cock through that same hole with one stroke, the pain roars back to life.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he groans, stroking and slapping my ass like I fuckin’ owe his ass money.
“You like that, baby?” I ask, my voice raspy as fuck.
“Work it, Yo-Yo.” He holds his hands up in the air while I make my booty clap around his dick. “Yeah, get that shit, girl. Ssssss.”
It’s like old times up in this muthafucka. A few times I get his ass to call out my name, and other times I’m in so much pain that it actually feels good. One thing for sure—we stay at it for hours until there’s cum dripping out my ass, off my back, and out of my hair.
I’m definitely back in the game.
Hours later, I lift my head and see we’ve made it to the b
ed. We’ve jacked it up, and the room smells like musk and pussy, but that’s okay. I put his ass to sleep, too. Smiling, I wiggle my fat ass against his growing hard-on until he starts to wake up.
Python moans and stretches behind me. Without even opening his eyes, he reaches between our bodies and slides his dick back into my ass, lifts my leg high into the air, and strokes for another nut. After he blasts off, he looks around to see where the fuck he is. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know. Late.”
“FUCK!” Python springs out of bed. “I gotta go.”
“Oh,” I moan disappointedly. “Do you have to?”
“Hell, yeah. I don’t want to hear LeShelle’s mouth that I left her with Christopher again.”
“Humph. Since she can’t have babies, the least she can do is babysit from time to time.”
Python’s gaze cuts back over to me.
I fold my arms and keep my funky attitude in place. “What? It’s the truth. I don’t know why you put up with half a woman anyway.”
“That’s the last one. I done told you about staying in your lane. Keep my girl’s name out your mouth.”
“I’m your girl, too.”
“Yeah. But I’m giving her my last name.”
“What?” This nigga didn’t say what I think he said.
He shrugs his big shoulders as if he just told me the weather. “I’m making it official. Before the summer is out, LeShelle is going to be Mrs. Carver. Deal with it.”
34
LeShelle
“Please, please, I’ll be good,” Christopher whines, backing himself into a corner.
I roll my eyes. “Oh, God. Here you go. Stop whining. Ain’t nobody hurting you. Get over here in this bed, boy.”
“I don’t like it when you tie me down in the bed.”
“Did I ask you what the hell you liked?” I yell through gritted teeth. This boy seriously doesn’t know how close I am to bouncing his ass off every wall in this bitch. He’s nothing but a spoiled brat who doesn’t know how good his ass has it up in here. “Get over here, Chris. You won’t like it one bit if I have to chase your ass around this muthafucka.”