Nobody Can Love You Like Them Roughnecks Do 2

by Shvonne Latrice

  My heart beat out of my chest as I stared the picture down. He’d known this bitch for two seconds, and they were public? Yet he’d had me for years and wouldn’t even walk into a restaurant holding my hand. Infuriated, I went to my story to type a word message saying, I hope you get tested girl, with the teacup emoji at the end. I smirked after adding it to my story and locking my phone.

  Blaise and I finished shopping at Chanel then went to get in her car, loading the bags and buckling the babies up.

  As soon as Blaise got in the driver’s seat, she asked, “Oh my gosh, Priscilla. You typed this, or are you hacked?” She showed me her screen, and the blogs had posted my little message from my story.

  “Nope, not hacked.”

  Blaise cackled with her mouth wide open in shock.

  “Bitch, I didn’t know you had it in you. You don’ caused a frenzy!”

  “Well, I’m tired of being nice.” I shrugged, arms folded. Only about two seconds later, I was crying, and Blaise was pulling me into a hug.

  “Don’t cry, Priscilla. He’s not worth it.”

  “I know he’s not.” I sobbed. “How can he just show her off and hide me? She’s not even that cute.”

  “No, she’s really not, and her body looks like a chicken who’s been given too many hormones.”

  I chuckled through tears slightly, taking a tissue from Blaise to dab my eyes and save my makeup.

  “I guess I’m just confused. He’s not who I thought he was, and I’m still in shock.” I peered out of the window.

  “Priscilla.” Blaise made me look at her. “Men are dumb; it’s their nature. They do stupid things, and a lot of times, it has nothing to do with us; not how we act or how we look. Rafi is not showing her off because he likes her better or because she looks better. I mean, come on. He’s doing this to hurt you, and he’s trying to hurt you because he loves you. But what he doesn’t realize is this isn’t going to make you jealous to the point where you’ll come crawling back. This is only making you see him in a better light. That’s how dumb he is, that he doesn’t see it that way.”

  “True. I forgot how stupid men are. I mean, when Five-Star cheated on you with Tahani, I was confused for a year.”

  We burst into laughter together before holding hands.

  “I think she was too.” We both giggled.

  “I feel stupid for crying, but I’m not crying because I want him. I actually like Will, but I guess I’m sad that we went from Jay Z and Beyoncé to…”

  “Rasheeda and Kirk?” Again, we laughed heartily. “Just kidding. Rasheeda wishes she was you.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Okay, let’s go shopping.” She cranked the car up.

  I could always count on Blaise to make me feel better about things.

  9

  Belly

  A little after 9 p.m.…

  I walked into my house, shaking my head at the boxes stacked up along the wall adjacent to me. I’d be moving soon as fuck, and the shit was a bittersweet feeling.

  I loved living in Inglewood, I always had, but if I wanted to stay alive and continue this boxing shit, I had to get up out. I wasn’t afraid of dying per se; that fear went away a long ass time ago, but I wanted to accomplish shit and see my kid grow up. I would always come back and visit the hood though. I couldn’t not do so.

  “Smells good as fuck.” I rounded the corner after locking the front door, to see Blaise and Island walking out of the kitchen, hand in hand. They both had aprons on, smiling. “What’s this?” I chuckled.

  “My assistant and I made you dinner.”

  “So now that you got a key, this is what you gon’ be doing? Showing up, cooking?” I glided toward Blaise then leaned down to kiss her.

  “Maybe. Is that a problem?”

  “Nah, you should add showing up to suck me off to that list too.”

  “Cortez.” She chuckled as I dropped down to be eye level with Island.

  “’Sup, cutie. I know you cooked all this food and ya mama just stood there, but now she’s trying to take yo’ credit.” I squeezed her small tummy, making her laugh.

  “You’re such a damn hater.” Blaise snickered.

  “Aight. I’m gonna shower, and then I’ll be ready to see what y’all got.”

  I left the dining room/living area to head to the bathroom to clean up. Once I was fresh, I slipped on some boxers, Adidas sweats, a t-shirt, then some socks. As soon as I got back to the dining room, Blaise came from the kitchen holding Island and slipped her in the high chair I bought her for over here. She then gestured for me to sit at the head of the table. A few minutes later, she came back out with two plates, one for me and one for her, then went to get us some drinks along with a small plate for Island.

  “We have to pray first, Cortez.” She took my hand, stopping me from picking my fork up, once she was seated.

  “Damn, this is some fancy ass shit. You could have made me a cheeseburger, baby.” I gazed down at the plate after the prayer.

  “No. I wanted to do something nice for you. So it’s steak, a potato loaded with cheese, sour cream, and shrimp, then lobster tails and asparagus.”

  I stared at her for a minute since she was sitting adjacent to me. I could tell she had no makeup on, because her creamy brown skin was like butter. She had on one of them cheap ass tube dresses from an online boutique, and her hair was hanging down her back messily. I licked my lips at the scent of her soft perfume and her thick lips, as they parted to show her white smile.

  “Baby—”

  “Don’t stare at me like that. It makes me act all shy.” She opened the cloth napkin while wearing a grin.

  “I can’t help it sometimes. My bad. Hood niggas be rejoicing when they get with fine bitches—I mean, fine women.” I leaned over to kiss her neck before we started eating.

  Island had dozed off after making a mess of her food, which was just mashed potatoes topped with shrimp and some chicken fingers. I noticed she fucking loved chicken fingers, so I made sure to keep a big ass freezer bag for when Blaise didn’t want to make them from scratch.

  “Island.” Blaise shook her head, laughing as she adjusted her.

  “We got a drunk and passed out chef in the building.”

  Both Blaise and I cackled at my comment.

  “Did you see that twerking video your girlfriend Cadence posted, wearing that Hood’s Champ t-shirt, and purposely showing your name tatted on her hand?” Blaise focused on her food as she talked.

  “Nah, but I see you did.”

  “Of course. I always get tagged in the comments. Does she hit you up?”

  “Occasionally. And nah, I don’t reply.”

  “Better not. I knew that already. I just think she wants people to believe you guys still mess around.”

  “Not surprised, but I don’t give a fuck. Deep down, she knows that shit ain’t true, so she can post all fucking day.”

  “When we first started, I would have been trying to look through your phone, but I don’t have the urge.”

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled my iPhone out, unlocked it, then went to the conversation thread between me and Cadence. It was full of gray texts for the past two weeks, showing I hadn’t said shit to her. I put it down on the table for Blaise to see.

  “First and last time I’m gon’ show you some shit in my phone.”

  “I told you I didn’t need to see.” She chuckled, covering her mouth since she had food in it.

  “You was low key lying, so I wanted to shut yo’ ass up.”

  “I hadn’t said anything though.”

  “Aight, then I wanted to shut yo’ ass up mentally.” I took my phone back and slipped it down into my pocket.

  “You like the food? It sure seems like it because you’re eating like a nigga on death row.”

  “Fuck you, and yeah, of course I like it.” I was silent for a few seconds then added, “I told you I could do this shit. I like this. It’s better than the club.”

  “Better than the clu
b? Yeah right.” She pinched me before leaning over to me for a kiss.

  “Nah, I’m serious. It is better than being around a bunch of niggas and pigeon-toed thots trying to get chose.”

  “Then yeah, of course playing family with me is better.”

  “Not playing; this is for real.” I looked her in the eyes, and she nodded, giving me a closed mouth smile. “I hope this is dessert.” I rubbed up Blaise’s inner thigh under the table and laughed when she smacked my hand away.

  Some nights later… a little after 1:30 a.m.…

  “For five, please,” Ozzy told the hostess at the restaurant.

  We’d been out celebrating the fact that this nigga Siggy had gotten a gold record with no label or nothing. I admit I thought this whole music shit was a fluke because he’d been wanting to rap for years and never was serious about the shit. But I was proud of the homie; I was proud of any of my niggas that wanted to do better than banging all day.

  “Right this way, gentlemen.” The dark-haired white girl cheesed, grabbing up some menus. The place had an Italian mob vibe with blood-red carpet, wine colored booths, and red walls with pictures of random niggas that I guess were a part of the family.

  “Nigga, you sit far away from me,” I told Rocko’s funky breath ass. He waved me off, sitting next to Cole, who sucked his teeth, making everyone chortle.

  “Are there any drinks I can start you off with before your waiter comes over?” The woman smiled, tossing her hair.

  She wasn’t in usual hostess attire. She had on a shirt that dipped between her perky breasts and a skirt that was so tight I could tell her thong was lace by the waistband print on the back.

  “Couple bottles of Hennessy, then water for me, and some glasses is good,” I answered.

  “Sure thing, Mr. Khalil. I was wondering if maybe I can get your autograph later.” The look in her eyes told me she wanted me to autograph that pussy. Now that that 100-million-dollar deal was front-page news, bitches didn’t know how to act. Had I been broke, she wouldn’t have even looked my way.

  “Bring me a napkin, and I got you.” I stared right back at her, watching her smile fade quickly.

  “Of course. And I’ll return shortly with your drinks.” She damn near ran off.

  “You ain’t have to do her like that. You could have passed her to me. I love white meat.” Siggy opened the menu to browse. Before I could say anything, he lowered it, staring off with a smirk, then waved his hand in a ‘come here’ motion.

  When I turned to look, I saw a group of three bitches stand up and start over, giggling and grinning already.

  “Nigga, what the fuck?” I frowned.

  The females all found places to sit around us, and when one in particular, a Black Latina bitch tried to sit by me, I stopped her. She was able to get Cole to move over though, before squeezing in between us.

  “I’m so excited for your match against Mason. I’m having a party and everything.” She placed her fist under her chin to stare at me, just as that hostess came to deliver our Hennessy.

  “Dope.” I filled my cup with the water and took a sip as the other hoes cozied up to the homies.

  “I’m always so scared when you have fights because I don’t want them to mess up your sexy ass face.”

  “You must be new to my shit. No need to worry about me. Worry about the other nigga.”

  “See, that’s why I like you: cocky, but can back it up.” She turned toward me some more. “What do you plan to do after this? I wanted to chill with you, just me and you.”

  I finished my water then placed the glass down.

  “Aight, so I got a girl, you know I got one, and I’m 100 percent sure you know who the fuck she is. But even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t fuck with you. You thirsty as hell, body is shaped like an Advil bottle, and you knock-eyed as fuck. I wouldn’t want a bitch where I can’t tell if she’s looking straight at the TV or down at my fucking phone. And move, you too damn close.”

  “Oh shit,” Rocko commented through laughter along with everyone else, including her so-called homegirls. Without another word, she shot up from the table and stormed out. Her friends didn’t even follow.

  “Nigga, it’s cock-eyed not knock-eyed.” Siggy shook his head as we all guffawed.

  Shrugging while chuckling, I replied, “Them eyes was knocking too.”

  We continued dinner, and I was chilling since the other females were all up on the homies, leaving me to enjoy my shit. They were actually cool.

  After a couple hours, we left out, and as we started toward the parking lot, Cole asked the girl he had his arm around, “Aye, ya homegirl that Belly flamed, I’ve seen her before. She famous?”

  “Liza? Hell no. I mean, she has a little notoriety because of her baby daddy.” She shrugged.

  “Who is her baby daddy?” Siggy quizzed, taking a breather from kissing the thickest one. Her body was crazy. She had a stomach, but the only niggas that gave a fuck about that were DL muthafuckas or ones about to be the next Caitlyn Jenner. Shit, just lift that roll while I murder the pussy, and I’ll be straight.

  “Her baby daddy is Five-Star,” the other friend replied, making me finally tune in slightly.

  I chuckled to myself, finally catching on as I hit the alarm to unlock my whip. Liza, her iPhone charger body, and that stale ass pussy would have to find another fucking way to make Blaise jealous. But if I caught her ass, I would surely have some homegirls from the hood beat her ass.

  Not trying to toot my own or no shit like that… beep, beep on you niggas, but ever since Blaise and I had been together, before and after the bullshit, I’d noticed a transition in her mood. She seemed happier, always smiling and shit, even when she wasn’t around Island; her baby always had her joyous as fuck.

  Blaise was a beautiful girl, with a sexy ass body, but her heart was what really attracted me to her. I couldn’t really figure out what was different about her ass in the beginning. Yeah, she was hands down one of the most beautiful women I’d seen, but shit, I’d been around a lot of fine ass females and never gave a fuck about their asses. But Blaise, she was real down to Earth. I felt like I could trust her, and… she was nice for lack of a better word. She wasn’t malicious at all, and that was attractive as fuck to me.

  The fact that she was the first female I told about my education and my relationship with my mama said a lot. So there wasn’t shit another bitch could say or do to make me not wanna be with Blaise; it was nearly impossible. I loved her.

  Speaking of my mama, ever since I’d been in what niggas called a serious relationship, I’d thought about her ass a lot. Thinking maybe if someone showed her some sort of appreciation and love, she wouldn’t be so bitter. She’d spent the majority of her life chasing behind a nigga who never truly gave a fuck about anyone before himself. By saying that, I was here at her apartment, planning to see if I could start to make some sort of amends. And shit, maybe like Blaise, once my mama got some kind of treatment, she might change up her attitude.

  “Belly! My nigga!” one of my mom’s crack head neighbors shouted. I gave him a nod but kept my pace, because I didn’t wanna talk to his ass. His breath smelled like rotten fish; plus, I ain’t trust any muthafucka that coughed 365 days a year.

  I adjusted my grip on these fuck ass flowers Blaise convinced me to bring then knocked on my mom’s door. I heard some Marvin Gaye playing, which caught me off guard because she didn’t really listen to music much since my father had disappeared on us.

  “Yes?” She finally came to the door wearing a thick ass robe. Her hair was a bit disheveled, which was odd, because she always kept her shit intact, her clothes too, like she wanted to be ready in case my pops returned, no matter how many years it’d been.

  “I uh, I wanted to talk to you. Open the door.”

  Her eyes dipped down to the flowers in my hand before coming back up to my face.

  “Maybe come back later, baby.”

  Her calling me baby was alarming as fuck, more alarming than everyth
ing else I’d witnessed in the last two minutes. She had to be on drugs, and whomever sold it to her was about to get smoked.

  “Christine, you—”

  “Oh, hey, son.” My dad appeared behind my mother, widening the door and hugging her body. His wide, devious smile made my skin crawl.

  “What the fuck is going on? You back with this nigga?” I hissed.

  “This nigga? You mean your father?” she snapped. When he kissed her neck, she giggled, blushing like the muthafuckin’ fool that she was. “Yes, we’re back together. We’re married, Cortez.”

  “This is a forever thing,” my dad added. “I love your mama.”

  For a few moments, I just stared in confusion before scratching my eyebrow. This had to be a stupid ass dream.

  “A forever thing?” I laughed, finally replying. “How? Nigga, you’ve been gone for almost a damn decade! And when my brother died, you ain’t even call the woman you claim to love! How the fuck is this some forever type shit!”

  “Baby, calm—”

  “Stop fucking calling me yo’ damn baby, aight? I’m only yo’ muthafuckin’ baby until this nigga don’t want you no more or cheats on yo’ ass.”

  “Alright, now you—” My dad put my mom behind him and stepped up, so I stepped up too, towering over him and smirking down into his face. I was much taller and much more solid than my pop’s five-foot-eleven and now somewhat frail frame.

  Cutting his sentence off, I chuckled. “This ain’t what you want, old man. I ain’t sixteen, and I give a fuck about you about as much as I give a fuck about some random muthafucka on the street. So if you enjoy walking, talking, eating, and thinking on your own, back yo’ wrinkled ass up into the house ’fore I rock yo’ shit.”

  My father twisted his mouth, looking up into my eyes with fire in his. My face was calm, collected, and so was my demeanor. Finally, he sucked his teeth, waved me off, and pulled my mama back into the house before slamming the door shut.