I pursed my lips, full of skepticism. Still, I followed her outside. There were still several students loitering around the premises, and our bus had indeed left us. Looking over the cars, I wondered what her lil’ boo was going to pull up in.
“There he go,” Nish pointed at an orange Buick sitting on swangas, which were uber-popular rims amongst Blacks and Mexicans in Houston. His music system was vibrating his trunk, causing other girls around to look his way. “Come on, before I have to slap one of these hoes. You see how they watching his car?”
I rolled my eyes again. Clearly, getting other hoes’ attention was the goal, as it was with most dudes with slabs around the city.
Walking behind her, I watched Nisha’s long bundles of weave sway across the top of her ass, as she strutted in her uniform. Her weave was a little old, and had become nappy, but you couldn’t tell her shit. My friend with her average body, and light skin thought so highly of herself…and I envied that.
“Daddy’s waiting on me,” she cooed, as she stepped to the Buick.
The chocolate toned driver gave her a grin, with his fine ass. “You already know. Ham, get in the back, man,” he instructed the dude who’d been riding shotgun.
Ham eased out of the car, and I was impressed. He stood well over six feet, had a medium brown complexion, average build, mouth full of gold, and tattoos galore. His face was cute enough, but it was his overall swagger that had me contemplating giving him some.
“What’s up?” he spoke in a deep manly voice.
“Hey,” I replied.
“Get in, Mya,” Nisha urged, as she eagerly hopped into the front seat.
Ham smirked. “Yeah, get in Mya, with ya cute ass.”
I tried to stop blushing, as I slid into the backseat. Instead of walking around, he entered in after me, causing me to scoot over. With plenty of room left on either side of us, we sat shoulder to shoulder. Smoothly, he eased an arm over my shoulder. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, as Nisha’s lil’ boo pulled away from the curb.
“Mya, how old are you?” he whispered into my ear, while the music continued to play loudly.
“Seventeen.”
“Damn, that’s young,” he grumbled.
I lifted a brow. “How old are you?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah, honestly.”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Damn, you old. I thought I saw you in my grandma’s year book,” I jested.
He chuckled heartily. “You got jokes. I like that.” He licked his lips, as he gave me bedroom eyes. “Have you ever been with a older man?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. Hell, older dudes was all I seemed to attract. Therefore, I’d messed with a twenty-three and twenty-five-year-old, but I’d never told anyone. Hell, my friends thought that I was still a virgin.
“You think you can handle me?” he rubbed my thigh.
Right then, I knew what it was. He was trying to fuck, and although I was no virgin I didn’t give it up that easily. “I don’t know.” I removed his hand off me.
He grinned harder. “That’s what’s up. I gotta work for it?”
I smirked, deciding not to answer him.
“It’s cool. You aint gotta answer that. You gon be my lil’ friend. Watch.”
“Mya,” Nisha glanced back at me, as the driver lowered the music. “We going to your house, right?”
“Yeah, to drop me off.” My eyes wandered around the car, confusingly.
“And we gon chill too.”
I frowned, not liking how she’d put me on the spot. “Who is we?”
“Me, you, Ham, and Twist,” she clarified.
I huffed. “Bitch, you pulling all kinds of tricks out of the bag today. But yeah, I guess it’s cool,” I gave in. I decided to let her make it, but she was gonna get read later. Trust. That bitch knew that my mama worked the second shift, and was never there when I’d get out of school, except when she’d take off like she’d done the day before. So, we’d often hang at my crib, but I’d never let her bring any niggas around. She was lucky that I was feeling Ham, so I was going with the flow.
“Uh, I hope yall got something to eat at your house,” Nisha rubbed her stomach.
“Shit, I’m hungry too,” the dude Twist added, which I found kind of odd. Couldn’t their issue be solved by him simply stopping to grab them something to eat?
Ham shook his head. “Nigga need to stop putting all his money into this fucking car,” he mumbled, and only I heard him. “Say,” he spoke up. “Stop at Jack-in-the-Box. The food’s on me.”
Twist nodded, as he headed straight there. Once we made it, Ham told us that we could all get a combo. Trying to eat healthy, I ordered a grilled chicken sandwich combo with a lemonade. Nisha and her friend were acting like starving savages, as they tore into the food, before we even left the lot.
“Them broke muthafuckas gone fuck around and bite a finger off,” Ham laughed.
“I know, right,” I snickered.
“Hell, yeah,” he tossed a whole French fry into his mouth.
“Ay, yall got any snacks at your crib?” Twist asked me, saying something directly to me for the first time.
“Nope,” I shook my head.
“Shit, you looking like a whole snack to me,” Ham flirted.
I lifted my chin. “You tryin’ to eat?” I asked him, coming off bolder than I actually was. He was making me feel comfortable, so I was saying shit that I usually wouldn’t. And honestly, it had been a while since I’d gotten my rocks off, so I told myself that it wouldn’t be the worst thing if I allowed him to taste a lil’ something.
When we parked in my apartment complex, Nisha and her friend hopped out of the car, before I could. It was obvious at this point that her ass had made plans to lay up at my crib. And I was cool with helping my girl out, but I didn’t like the slick way she went about things. So, I was definitely checking her ass, once we were alone.
“Uh, hand me my bag, so that I can open the door,” I commanded, after sliding out of the car. Nisha was holding onto my bag like it was hers.
“Oh, my bad,” she smiled. “Here.” She handed me my backpack.
“Umm hmm,” I pursed my lips, as I retrieved my keys out of the bag. All the while, all four of us were traveling down the sidewalk, headed to my apartment. Everyone stood behind me, as we approached my front door. After unlocking, I pushed the door open. “I bet it’s hotter than a muthafucka,” I predicted, stepping inside.
“I turned the air on.”
I gasped, as I held my chest. “What are you doing here?”
He scratched his head. “Your mama told me to chill here, while she goes to work.”
I released a frustrated sigh. “She’s unfucking real.”
“Mya, move so we can come in,” Nisha urged, trying to push past me.
I quickly turned around, shoving her back out the door. “Bitch, they gotta go,” I whispered.
“Why?” she frowned up.
“Because,” I gritted my teeth. "My mama left this nigga here, and I’m sure he’ll tell her about these other niggas chilling in her house.”
“Man,” she dragged out. “Tell his old ass to move arou…” she got out, as she peeked over my shoulder. “Oh, shit,” she gasped, after spotting him on our couch. She whipped her head around. “Aye, Twist, yall gotta go. Mya can’t have company, right now.”
“Man, aint this about a bitch?” Twist spewed. “You said that her spot would be cool.”
“And I thought it was, but it aint,” Nisha stressed.
“Fuck it. We can swing by my partner’s spot. Come on.”
She tucked her lips into her mouth. “Umm,” she hesitated. “I’ll get with you tomorrow. We still have homework to do.”
Of course, I lifted a brow, because I hadn’t seen Nish do homework since elementary.
“Niecy, you with that bullshit,” Twist scoffed.
I scowled. “I thought your name was Nisha?”
She rolled her eyes. “Exactl
y.”
“So, yall about to go in the house, after I spent my money on you hoes?” Ham seethed.
My heart skipped a beat, as he disappointed me with his pettiness. I really thought he had potential. “Not you too.” I stomped my feet.
“Not me what?” he questioned confusingly.
“You’s a crumb too. Just as you accused your boy of being.”
“What?” he growled, stepping forward.
“You heard me,” I shot back, quickly stepping into my apartment, and snatching Nisha inside with me. “Now, eat a dick.” I slammed the door in their faces.
“Bitch!” one of them shouted, as they hit the door.
I whirled around to see him smirking. “What yall got going on? I didn’t ruin your plans, huh?”
Nisha stepped out in front of me, posing with her hands on her hips. “What plans?”
He looked her up and down, but didn’t bother saying anything. Boldly, she switched over to the couch, sitting awfully close to him. With nowhere else to sit, I sat on the opposite side of him.
“I remember you,” Nisha narrowed her eyes, as if she’d just realized she’d seen him before. “What’s your name, again?”
He drug a palm over his mouth. “I never said.”
I rolled my eyes, thinking about how crazy my mama had to be. She’d left this young nigga alone in our house, and he was sitting here arrogantly like he was doing us favors by merely speaking to us. “Well, what is your name, since you’re sitting on the couch my daddy’s mama bought,” I spoke up.
He chuckled. “You got a smart mouth, I see. I thought you didn’t have a backbone, judging how this morning went,” he called me out. “But yeah,” he licked his lips. “The name’s Omari.”
“Well, Omari, I gotta not have a backbone, because I got enough restraint not to cuss my mama’s ass out? Is that what you’re telling me?”
For a few seconds, he stared at me, before smiling again. Lifting his hand, he flashed a tightly rolled blunt. “Yall smoke?”
“Hell, yeah,” Nisha interjected. “Light that bitch up.”
He continued to eye me. “What about you? You smoke, Mya?”
I gazed into his light brown eyes, becoming lost. What the hell was he doing dealing with my mama? Hell, even in her prime I doubt she’d pulled any man this beautiful. He was the type that bitches went into withdrawals over, and here he was…sitting on my couch.
“Mya, did you hear me?” he snapped me back to reality.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you smoke?”
“I do…but not usually in my mama’s house.”
He nodded. “Understandable.”
“And my mama usually don’t leave her friends behind, either. So, I definitely wasn’t expecting you to be here.”
“Well, I can’t speak for what she usually does. But she insisted that I chill here, especially since I was still sleepy when she left for work. I told her that I’d at least wait for you to get here, before I’d burn off. You know, so that I wouldn’t leave the door unlocked,” he explained, as he lit the blunt. After taking a few drags, he passed it to me.
I hesitated, because I usually respected my mama’s crib, but I knew that she didn’t get off until eleven at night. Giving in to temptation, I grabbed the blunt, taking some tokes.
“So, wait, you fucking with Ms. Meeka’s old ass?” Nisha sat up in the couch.
“Are you fucking Twist’s old thirty-two-year-old, five kids having, still live with his second baby’s mama ass?”
Nisha didn’t bat an eye, which told me that this information wasn’t new to her. “I have, but what’s your point?”
“You worry about him, and I’ll tend to my business.”
“Yeah, okay,” she grumbled, reaching over, practically snatching the blunt out of my clutches.
“I’m still tripping off that nigga cussing us out. Like nigga, you really in your feelings over buying some damn Jack-in-the-Box?” I thought aloud, hoping to change the subject.
“I mean, that tab was right at thirty dollars for everybody’s food,” Nisha pointed out.
“And?” I frowned. “He offered to buy everybody’s food. Ole boy should’ve bought yall food, anyway, if you ask me.”
“Uh, say, can you pass my blunt back? Got damn,” Omari snarled.
“Here,” she handed his weed back to him. “You wanna talk about niggas, and crumbing, here’s the prime example.”
“What?” Omari scrunched his face.
“Yeah, you about to bite my head off over a damn blunt. Nigga, it aint that serious.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder.
He took another hit off the blunt. “But I don’t recall you putting a penny on this.” he blew smoke from his nostrils. “And I think you too quick to judge when it seemed like you was about to let Twist’s old ass smash here, at somebody else’s house, for free. His homeboy had to feed you and him, so you was issuing out that pussy for borrowed Jack-in-the-Box.”
My eyes involuntarily bucked, as he read Nisha for filth.
“Whatever,” she sprung to her feet. “I’m gone. See you tomorrow, Mya.” She headed right out of the door. “I aint got time for this shit. Nigga got me fucked up,” she grumbled.
He laughed uncontrollably, as she slammed the door behind her. That’s when I knew Mr. Omari was petty…and I liked that. “Your fucking friend is a dumb lil’ bitch.”
“And you’s a messy ass nigga,” I spat. Yeah, I might have liked how he got on Nisha’s ass, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Whew, you got a foul ass mouth. But was whining like a kitten when ya mama was getting in ya ass.”
“Then you should know where I got this mouth from.” I rolled my eyes. “She gives it to me, and I return the favor to everybody else. You aint the exception, nigga.”
“Aye, aye, respect ya elders, lil’ mama,” he teased.
I gave him the side eye. “How old are you?”
He licked his lips. “Twenty-one.”
“Aw, nigga please.” I waved him off. “You aint old enough for me, less along my mama.”
He tucked his lips into his mouth. “Alright. Don’t say nothing when I become your step-daddy.”
“Step-daddy? Boy, bye. My mama must gone fall and bump her damn head. You’ll be my step-daddy? Yeah, picture that shit.”
He stood up, and shrugged me off. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He headed for the door. “Tell ya mama that I’ll be back through later.”
“Tell her ya damn self,” I shot him the bird.
He winked at me, before exiting out the door.
I shook my head in disbelief. My mama had managed to pull this young nigga. It was weird. I mean, she usually had no trouble meeting men, but they were never this young, and she’d never leave them behind when she was gone. This was definitely a first, but I knew something for certain. He’d never last, and in a couple of weeks, he’d be gone, like all the rest.
Chapter 3
Three months later…
Omari
“Fuck a shooter. I’m my own shooter. All this ice, I’m my own jeweler. Six lawyers, and they all Jewish. I’m the star, this is my movie. Pinky ring two fifty on it. Guess it’s safe to say, nigga, I spent your budget on it…” Plies’ voice blasted from the Jeep’s speakers.
I sat behind the wheel of the truck, counting my money. The last few months had been good to me, as I racked in nothing less than $500 a day. Then when you combine that with the fact that I had absolutely no bills, I was winning all across the board.
Meeka had been God sent, allowing me to really get on my feet. Since the first night I’d come to her crib, I’d been there. She moved me right in with no expectations. The only thing required was a dick-down, and that was whenever I felt like giving it to her. For my troubles, I had hot meals daily, a cozy bed to lay in, and a Jeep to ride in, while she worked. A nigga couldn’t ask for more.
“Hey, Omari,” Quisha, our neighbor, spoke as she stood on the sidewalk.
“What’s up?” I asked, as I discreetly folded my wad of cash, before stuffing it into my pocket.
“Let me ask you something.”
I eased out of the ride, pulling up my sagging True Religion jeans. “What’s that?” I questioned.
“A friend wanna know how much you’ll wholesale a hundred tabs for,” she let me know, referring to ecstasy.
“The ones I got right now are the best thang smoking on this side of town, so I’m letting them go for three dollars.”
“Three dollars?” she scrunched her face. “Got damn. You can’t give us the neighbor discount?”
I smiled. “Bye, Quisha.”
“Aw, don’t be like that.” She opened her arms, as I strolled past her.
I wasn’t surprised that she was trying to get something for nothing. That had been her style, since I’d met her when I first moved in. She was always a few dollars short, but somehow managed to keep money to run to the corner store and buy snacks. She was never short with their money, and that’s why she had me fucked up. Nothing in life was free…especially not my drugs.
I gave a few lil’ niggas a head nod, as I made my way to the crib. Once I reached the door, I used my key to get inside.
“We used to kick it up at the park, and now she’s all grown up. Rocking them stilettos, jumping out of that Mercedes truck. Uh, it was Keisha, it was Sonya, it was Tonya…” The Dream’s voice floated from the stereo’s speakers.
The music was loud, and I guess Mya didn’t hear me come in. Cause homegirl was in a zone. She had her eyes closed, singing the song, swaying to the beat in little black boy shorts, and a wife beater. I’d never seen her with so little clothing, and I was convinced that the shit was by design. I had no idea how she was built underneath those saggy ass clothes. Yeah, she was thick…but those proportions…my God! She had the thickest tight thighs I’d ever seen, a big, humongous donkey booty, sharp hips, a tiny, itty bitty waistline, with nice round melons. Her long hair was down, and rather bushy, but that shit was working for her.
Even When It's Wrong Page 3
