“Where is Isla?”
“She’s in here, why?” The girl frowned harder. “I thought y’all were broken up, so why you here?”
Who the fuck was she?
“Just tell her I need to talk, aight?”
The girl rolled her eyes, and then stepped back in to close the door. I waited, and then she came back and rocked her head to the left to let me know I could come up. I did so, and once inside, I saw Isla getting her makeup done.
“Can y’all give us like five minutes.” Isla exhaled in an irritated fashion as I sat down on the couch in here. The ladies mumbled some shit, and once gone, Isla turned to me and quizzed, “What?”
“First off, why you take all that damn money out of my account?”
“Your account? That was our account, okay? Ain’t my fault you didn’t move fast enough. But thanks, boo, because my personal checking is healthy.”
I chuckled angrily.
“Isla, only reason I’m letting you keep that shit is because we have a baby coming—” I stopped talking when she burst into laughter, clapping her hands. “Fuck is so funny?”
“You, nigga. We don’t have a baby coming, I have a baby coming.”
“Wait.” I laughed. “You told me that kid was mine, Isla.”
“Yeah, because at the time, I didn’t want you to know. Shit was shaky with me, but now that I’m in a good place, I can be honest. So no, this one isn’t yours, and neither is Michael.” For a moment, we stared at one another, in silence, before she bucked her eyes and rolled her neck. “Was that all?”
“Whose fucking kid is it?”
“Another nigga’s.”
“You lying! You know yo’ muthafuckin’ ass is lying!”
“No, nigga, I’m not! The baby is not yours, okay? He was conceived when you went out of town to New Jersey for a few weeks.”
“How the fuck you even pull this off?”
“I don’t know, Micah, how did I?”
“Isla, how the fuck we even get here? I mean, fuck! We’ve been together for years, since before all this shit! How the fuck we get here?”
Looking off for a couple moments, she shrugged. “I guess what we had lost its spark. I was bored,” she spoke softly as she twiddled her thumbs. She then picked her head up to look me in the eyes. “I guess when you needed structure and guidance you were more fun. I’m young, Micah, and I felt sixty-five years old with you.”
When I say her words felt like knives, I’m talking them big ass ones that could chop a muthafucka’s head off. For a little bit, I just gaped at her in astonishment and confusion.
“You felt sixty-five?” I finally spoke up, frowning. “That don’t even make sense! I’m young too, so how the fuck you feel sixty-five with me?”
“Everything was predictable.” She chuckled, but not in a way that said she found what she was saying to be funny.
“Be honest for once in yo’ fucking life!”
“Like we didn’t do anything adventurous! And then you were too bland … I don’t know! I was just bored, okay! And when I tried to have some fun, you were always breathing down my neck, trying to make me act like some sixty-year-old housewife! And you being in the business gave me access to niggas who I found more intriguing!”
“You a damn lie!”
“What have we done, Micah? All you did was buy me things and keep me in the house! That’s what our relationship was, and anytime I tried to do anything to spruce things up, you shut it down! I couldn’t look too sexy, I couldn’t even club with you, or go on a vacation—”
“Fuck you!” I barked. For some reason, what she was saying had me hot as fuck. And seeing the tears in her eyes let me know she honestly felt this way, which infuriated me further.
“Fuck you, grandpa ass nigga!”
Standing up, I gritted, “You need to run me my damn money!”
“Make me.” She stood up as well, getting in my face even though she was shorter than me.
My eyes bounced over the trailer, and when I spotted her purse, I snatched that shit up. She stood there, letting me rumble through it before I found her wallet. Sifting through it, I found the Wells Fargo card and took it out.
“Nigga, I took my money to another bank. I’m not that dumb.”
Throwing the shit to the floor, I hissed, “Have my fucking money in two days or it’s over for yo’ ass.” I pointed in her face before turning my back and leaving out of the trailer, shoving the door open so hard that it bounced back.
“Yeah, okay,” Isla mumbled.
I darted across the back lot, through the building, and back out to the parking lot on one hundred. Getting into my car, I slammed the door and shouted at the top of my lungs. Right now I was wishing I had never asked Isla that burning question. My stomach turned repeatedly as her words replayed over and fucking over in my mind.
Pulling my phone out, I dialed Ricky, happy as fuck that he was out of the pen now. Qamar was cool, but all he wanted to talk about was Bia, and right now I needed to be the one talking. Plus, getting advice from him would be like going to a rehab center ran by a crackhead.
“Yeah?” Ricky answered.
“Aye, you busy?”
“I’m at the studio listening back to a couple tracks. You can come through here if you want.”
“Aight, on my way.”
Ricky’s studio was in Hollywood, so it was a nice ways away from where I was. I wanted to get some food, but my appetite was barely there after that bullshit just a minute ago. By the time I’d gotten to the studio, my mood had only worsened because during the whole drive over, I kept repeating Isla’s words in my head.
“It looks dope in here with the lights low,” I complimented Ricky’s studio as I dapped him up. The lights were down, but the gold sparkles had a glow in the dark effect.
“I know, right?”
“Hell yeah.” I eyed the studio. “I could definitely fuck with this shit. I’m gon’ have to record in here one time.”
Ricky nodded as he leaned back and flamed up a blunt.
“Fuck you call me for, sounding like a bitch?” He blew out smoke as he looked my way, before turning the music down.
I sat down while chuckling at his ass.
Clearing my throat while wiping my face and sighing, I said, “Aight, so I told you how Isla came and had the police take Michael after showing me proof that he wasn’t mine, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Today, she told me that the baby she’s pregnant with ain’t mine either.”
Ricky began coughing hard on the weed smoke as he sat up.
“Nigga, what?” He turned his lip up in disgust, still choking a little bit. “How the fuck she have two babies on you, muthafucka? What the hell you been doing? Ain’t no fucking way a bitch of mine would be able to pull off some shit like that. Don’t tell me she was hitting it from the back too, my nigga.”
“Fuck you, aight? Shit, I’m wondering the same thing. I don’t wanna believe this new baby ain’t mine, but she sounded convincing as fuck.” I watched him shake his head like a disappointed older brother. “I mean, how the fuck was I supposed to know everything, man? What, I was supposed to keep up with her period or some shit?”
“Yes, muthafucka! Whatever the fuck you gotta do, you do that shit! You think I don’t know when Draylah’s period came and went? And shit, as much as I like to fuck, I had to know.” He inhaled on the blunt and held it in. “Shit, soon as that period was a day late and I knew I hadn’t hit, I would have dug a six-foot hole for that bitch in the backyard.”
I laughed even though, one, I didn’t feel like it, and two, this nigga was dead ass serious. Only Ricky AK would know his woman’s period schedule. I guess you couldn’t pull the wool over this nigga’s eyes unless he was blind. I kept tabs on Isla though, so still, I was perplexed.
“Well maybe if you had have told me that shit, I would have been up on game.” I chuckled. He just shook his head as he toked on the blunt again.
“You gotta know
yo’ pussy, nigga. I know the way my girl’s pussy feels, tastes, and smells like the back of my muthafuckin’ hand. I know just what to do to make her cum in ten seconds or ten minutes. If any of that shit is different, even a little bit, I’m gon’ know some shit ain’t right. And if she’s fucking you and another nigga, trust that the pussy is gon’ be off in some way. You just gotta be familiar with yo’ shit.” He blew the smoke out, as I let his words seep in.
“There’s more though.”
“Bruh.” He shook his head again.
“So I was at the studio, and I asked Kattlyn to come through. While there, her and Flow kind of got into it, and he blurts out the fact that not only did he hit, but he paid for it. He along with a lot of other niggas, if you catch my drift.”
“So why he still alive?” Ricky inhaled on his blunt again, with a serious expression.
“I mean, we got into a fight and shit; I punched his ass.”
“See, that’s yo’ problem, nigga. The fact that, that muthafucka even had the balls to tell you that shit is a red flag. Nigga don’t respect you for shit.”
“He probably couldn’t wait to tell me. He’s a hater ass nigga.”
“Micah, nigga, I bet you the check I’m getting from this performance tomorrow that no nigga Draylah has ever fucked would come tell me some shit like that. Not even Lue, who knows that I know he hit.”
I nodded in agreement.
“Well, it doesn’t matter now because I broke up with her ass. I ain’t got time for that bullshit.” I turned to face the mixer in deep thought.
“I get it, but the nigga disrespected you and at the time, yo’ girl. You should have whooped his muthafuckin’ ass until he was near death at least. I understand you got a soft spot for these females out here, but that shit is starting to spill over into how you come at these niggas too.”
“I ain’t soft, aight?”
“You looking like a fucking sponge cake to me,” he replied, making me laugh, even though I didn’t want to. I definitely wasn’t gon’ mention to him the money Isla stole.
I was silent for a bit, getting myself together before I spoke my next sentence. The shit was still bothering me.
“And can you believe Isla said she basically felt like an old married couple with me?”
Ricky burst into laughter.
“Nigga, I told you to stop only fucking her in the bed. Better start hitting that pussy in public too.”
“Fuck out of here.” I chuckled.
“I’m serious. Draylah gets this dick no matter where we at. If I’m ready to fuck, we gon’ fuck. I don’t give a damn if it’s during Thanksgiving dinner with all my elders at the table. They’d better move that fucking turkey, stuffing, and them coin purses so I can stretch that pussy.”
“Bruh, what the fuck?” I chortled, and he shrugged because we both knew he wasn’t joking.
Chapter Four: Virginia
The next morning …
I polished off my cup of tea, and then put it in the sink before heading to the bathroom. I brushed, flossed, and rinsed with Listerine, and before I could even pat my mouth dry with a paper towel, someone started beating on my front door.
“Open up! Police!” a loud female voice boomed from the other side of the door.
“Okay!” I hollered back, confused as hell on why the damn police was here at my damn condo this early in the morning. “What is going on?” I yanked the door open to see a short white female officer, and a tall Black male officer.
“We’re here to take a Vigo Camacho into custody,” the Black officer replied, hands at his waist.
“For what?” My brows dipped.
“For a hit and run, ma’am. Does he live here? We had a hard time finding out who was responsible, but a witness gave us a license plate recently, and it ran back to this address. Is he here?” the female officer asked. She was a hard-nosed little thing.
“No, no, he’s not here at the moment. We broke up a little bit ago, and I haven’t seen him since,” I lied. I’d allowed Vigo to come back and stay here, but only because I was worried about him. He definitely wasn’t my man anymore though.
“Well if he shows up or if you see him anywhere, please give us a call.” The male officer handed me a card.
“I will.”
The officers turned to walk away, and I stepped outside just to see if my nosey neighbors were watching. They of course were, but I got the shock of my life when I saw Draylah get out of her car with a confused expression.
“Miss Omari, we explained that you didn’t need to come here with us. Mr. Camacho isn’t here anyway,” the female officer explained to Draylah, but her eyes were on me.
“What the hell is going on, Virginia?” Draylah closed her car door and started across the street until she was in front of me.
The officers looked on with a stumped expression, before finally getting into the patrol car and pulling off.
“Draylah, let me explain—”
“You know this muthafucka who hit me?” she grimaced. “Did you know he was the one who hit me?”
“Yes, and yes, but—”
“And you didn’t say shit? This whole time I’ve been telling you how the police were looking for him, and so was my insurance company, and you sat there like a fucking weirdo not saying anything!”
“I know, but I was just conflicted! I didn’t know what to do! Vigo has had some problems, and I didn’t want to add to them just yet. I just didn’t—”
“He ran a red light, Virginia, and almost killed me and my babies. I get that he’s whatever the hell he is to you, but right is right and wrong is wrong.”
“Yes, you’re right, but you have to understand me, Draylah. I care about him, and he’s not in his right mind all the time. He drinks a lot. I’m so sorry, though. I don’t want you to think—”
“I do not care!” Draylah roared so loudly that I jumped back. The anger in her eyes scared the shit out of me. “Do you know what the fuck it was like to think that I was losing another fucking child, because some asshole decided to drink and drive? Huh? No, you fucking don’t! And I’ll tell you another thing, you better hope the police finds that bitch boy before Ricky does, because he’ll be floating down a river if not,” she seethed. “So it’s up to you. Turn his ass in, or deal with him dying.”
“Draylah!” I called after her as she walked off towards her car. “Draylah, I’m so sorry!” I stood there as she peeled down my street then made a left, and I just sighed. “Shit!” I shouted, but felt someone looking at me.
Of course Geraldine’s nosey ass was watering her damn grass. When we made eye contact, she immediately looked away, as if she wasn’t eavesdropping the whole time. Rolling my eyes, I turned and went back in the house to try calling Draylah. She didn’t answer not one of the six times, so I gave up for the time being and went to take a shower.
Once out, I put on my lotion and body oil, then wrapped my towel around my body before opening the bathroom door.
“Ah!” I screamed when I saw a drunk ass Vigo in the doorway, stumbling into the bathroom. “Vigo! Fuck! You stink!”
“Man, move, a nigga gotta pee.” He shoved me out the way lightly, and lifted the toilet seat before relieving himself.
I rushed out and to the bedroom to get dressed, and as I put my heels on, Vigo came in and collapsed on the bed. His mouth was open, letting drool get all on my new silk pillowcases.
“Vigo, the police came here looking for you.”
“For what?”
“Because of that damn hit and run, nigga. They have a warrant out for your arrest. Be happy I told them I hadn’t seen you.”
“Shit, thanks, babe.” He smiled lazily and turned onto his back. “Why you got that sexy shit on for work?”
“This isn’t sexy, Vigo, relax. And we are not together, remember?” I fixed my short hair in the mirror. I was definitely dressing like a bitch in a Las Vegas club, but I couldn’t help that I wanted to give my fine ass boss something to look at.
&
nbsp; I looked over my shoulder at Vigo to see he was knocked out. It wasn’t long before the nigga began calling hogs with his loud ass snoring. After straightening my little jean shorts and making sure my top was off the shoulders like it should be, I stepped into the living room to call the police. I let them know Vigo was here, and once they told me they were on their way, I headed to work.
Today, Frisk had to shoot a music video, and I was gonna be there along with his manager, Xander, just to make sure everything went smoothly. Working for Frisk was much more exciting than working for Wonder’s stupid ass, and I guess it was because he had more shit for me to do.
I parked my car at the warehouse where the video was being shot on green screen, and as I covered my lips in gloss using my rearview mirror, someone knocked on my window scaring the shit out of me.
“What the fuck,” I mumbled with the roll of my eyes when I saw Wonder standing outside of the car. “Yes?” I turned my car on to roll the window down.
“Get out, let me talk to you.”
Exhaling sharply, I grabbed my purse up and got out of the car, hitting the alarm to lock it.
“Talk, Savian.”
“I heard you got a job with Frisk. You know that’s the homie and shit, so that’s what you doing now?”
“What am I doing now, Savian?” I folded my arms and cocked my head. “Working?”
“It better just be work. I bet not find out you fucking this nigga or it’s gon’ be a problem.”
“Excuse me? I can do as I please, nigga. You and I are not together; hell, we never were. Go be with your wife, or find a new hoe to fuck on, because it ain’t gonna be me.” I started off but he grabbed my arm and slammed me into my car.
“I’m not playing with yo’ ass, Virginia!”
“And I’m not playing with you! Get the fuck off me before I call the police on you, fool!”
“Baby, come on. Now that the shit is out, you should be happy, right?”
“Happy? Why would I be happy? It’s not like we can be out in public together, because your image is still important. You still have to appear married, right? Or did that change?” He said nothing; he only smacked his lips and looked off. “Thought so. Excuse me, I have to work.” I switched off, putting a little extra twist in my hips because I wanted him to dread the thought of Frisk seeing all of this.
She Got It Bad for a Heartless Gangsta Page 11
