Even When It's Wrong

by Nicole Jackson

  “And when the fuck was you gonna tell me?”

  She bucked her eyes. “I’m telling you now.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “But we didn’t discuss this. I aint ready for no baby…and you aint, either.”

  “I aint ready?” she pointed at her chest. “Well, excuse the fuck out of me. I could’ve sworn I already had a child, but clearly you forgot that.”

  “I haven’t forgotten shit. I guess you want me to ignore that you and your daughter’s relationship is rocky at best. Yall definitely got some issues to iron out, before you should add another person to the equation. A baby would give you even less patience, and I’m sure one of your kids would get the shorter end of the stick.”

  She scowled. “First of all, Mya is practically grown, and show me a mama who don’t be having it out with their teenage daughters.”

  “Yall be having it out, or you be having it out?” I furrowed my brows.

  “What you trying to say?!” she snapped.

  “You aint got no patience!” I shouted, matching her aggression. “Why the fuck you want to start over with a new baby, when you don’t seem to like…” I had to catch myself, before I’d really hurt her feelings.

  “Omari, why wouldn’t I want to have your first child? Huh? I mean, I love you, and I want to give you a son. Why wouldn’t you want that? I bet our child would be beautiful,” she softened her tone.

  “Look, Meeka, all that shit sounds cool. But not right now. Like you said, I’m young as fuck, and being a family man just aint my focal point. I can’t even bullshit you. Besides, we don’t know if this shit with us is forever. You know?”

  Meeka’s spirit seemed to leave her body, as I crushed her little plans. I wasn’t trying to be her damn baby daddy. She had to be out of her rabid ass mind. She wasn’t gonna push out my first seed, and mistreat it once I was done with her, and she was with the next man. She’d already proven herself misfit, and I wish I would go into a lifetime bond with her, after seeing her for exactly who she is. Nah, I was good, and since I now knew what she was up to, I was gonna stock up on Magnums. No more raw fucking for us.

  “Whatever.” She hopped out of bed. “Fuck you, Omari. I’m about to cook.” She stepped out of the room stark naked. “And you marginate on what we just talked about.” Did she just make up a word? I won’t front. Her body was nice to be damn near forty, but her brain? A lost fucking cause. But her daughter’s mind and body…main!

  Yeah, I know, I know. That was wrong of me. Knowing my mind shouldn’t be going there, I attempted to shake my thoughts.

  “Yeah, whatever,” I grumbled, as I snatched my phone off the nightstand. Five different licks had texted me, along with two lil’ dips. Brea and Lacy were begging for the dick, but Meeka’s greedy ass had drained me, so I shot them both texts, promising that I’d link up later. I then sprung to my feet, and headed to the shower.

  “Ion know why that broad can’t be different,” I murmured. “Every morning she works my fucking nerves.” I swear, sometimes I hate having to talk to Meeka. We never saw eye to eye…because she just wasn’t my type. Her whole way of thinking was fucked up, which told me that this shit wasn’t gonna last long. Maybe it would, if she was more like…Mya.

  The more time I spent around her, the more I could really see her. Honestly, I don’t think I’d ever seen another chick before. I mean, at least not in a sense where I understood them. It had always been physical with me, but that shit wasn’t as satisfying as it used to be. Something indescribable was missing, as I yearned to have an intelligent conversation. Some kind of connection, and I wasn’t so sure if any of that was connected to my dick.

  Once the warm punishing water hit my body, I felt alive, and my dick sprung to life. For some reason, her fat ass entered my mind. I thought about how it bounced unintentionally. I pictured that small waist, twirling, inviting me to slide in that pussy. Before I knew it, my palm was wrapped tightly around my shaft, as I pleasured myself.

  “Mya,” I whispered, before I could catch myself. “Fuck it,” I mumbled. These were my private thoughts, and nobody ever had to know what I was thinking. And here, away from prying eyes, I could have her. Even only if it’s only in my fantasies.

  ******

  “Damn, you got it smelling good in here,” I commented, as I stepped into the kitchen.

  “You already know,” she boasted.

  Meeka stood there in my t-shirt, preparing two baked potatoes. It seemed like she’d gone out and gotten the works, and she had my ass salivating. I could smell some kind of meat cooking in the oven, as I greedily rubbed my hands together.

  “Let me see what you got in here,” I mumbled, while peeking into the oven. I discovered two big stupid ass T-bone steaks. “You doing it up, huh?” I lifted my head. “But why just two?”

  She tossed her weave over her shoulder. “You see how big those steaks are. We’ll be full as fuck. That’s all we need.”

  “Yeah, but what about your daughter, man? She aint getting none?”

  She blinked her eyes rapidly, as if I’d offended her. “Mya will be straight. She can eat some noodles. Better yet, there’s plenty of groceries in there. I’m sure she’ll find something.”

  “But why you just didn’t get her a steak too? Ion get why you make these big ass meals, but only make enough for me and you. That shit is selfish as fuck. Don’t you think?”

  “No, selfish would be to let her starve. It’s clear to see that my child misses no meals, although she could stand to miss plenty.”

  I shook my head, as I listened to her. What was really sad was that she thought that the shit she was saying was cool. Increasingly, her mistreatment of her own daughter made it more difficult for me to stomach her. She was so callus, and I didn’t understand why.

  “Look, man, you really need to do some soul searching, because you out of line.”

  “I’m out of line?” she snarled.

  “Yeah, you out of line.”

  “It’s funny how you can fix your mouth to criticize me, but have no problems with living here rent free, and feeding your face with my fucking food.”

  “And that’s what you not gonna do.” I stepped in her face. “I’m a fucking man, and you gone handle me as such. I don’t need this shit. Fuck your food, and this apartment. I can move around today, and end all this bullshit, because I don’t need you doing me no favors.” I turned to walk away.

  “Omari, wait,” she pleaded, grabbing my hand. “I apologize, baby. Calm down, and let me fix your plate.”

  I shook my head. “I’m good, Meeka. Mya can have my plate.”

  “But I just made this for us,” she attempted to reason.

  “And that’s the problem!” I barked. “You was just in the room trying to get me to get you pregnant, but you won’t even make dinner for your own daughter. You know how that shit looks? How it makes me look at you?”

  “Mya is practically grown, Omari. You can’t compare that to me wanting a new baby.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “She’s almost grown now, but she’s a lil’ girl when it comes to her choosing her own clothes, and shit, right?”

  “That’s different,” she claimed. “And why are you suddenly so interested in matters of Mya?”

  “Mya is relevant because she’s your daughter. It shows your maternal side, and it’s lacking, which tells me that I have no business having a baby with you.”

  She placed her hands in prayer position. “Bae, I’m not trying to have it out with you. I’m really not. So, let me go get dressed, and you can drop me off a work. Okay?”

  “Whatever, man,” I brushed her off.

  I had nothing else to say, as I flopped down on the couch, waiting on her to get dressed. I found myself looking around the apartment. The place I’d chosen to rest my head at, because of the comfortableness it provided. The place that Meeka just so happened to come along with, but wasn’t necessarily needed…or wanted. It was a decent little spot, and the décor was simple. Things were
a bit junky, because Mya was gone to school. She was the only one who’d clean up, and Meeka had no problems leaving dishes for her. I could halfway understand it if she’d actually save the girl some of the food. But she never did.

  Honestly, the more I learned about Meeka, the less I cared for her. She was a high school dropout, working as a security guard. She worked at the hospital with Glenda, and every weekend they partied harder than girls half their ages. And when they weren’t partying they were gambling, swindling away their whole paychecks.

  Meeka didn’t clean up, half-assed paid her bills, and spent most of her free money on her appearance. I was shocked to recently learn that Mya’s daddy paid child support. Every month Meeka collected five hundred dollars, but Mya never saw a dime. Meeka, on the other hand, got her hair and nails done like clockwork, and kept a new fit on her back. All the while, Mya couldn’t even get the necessities. Shit, just the morning before I’d given her the money for a new flat iron, and few other things she needed. And that was another reason I refused to give Meeka one red cent. She didn’t deserve it.

  Still, I had to get my head out the fucking clouds. I was bidding my time, but could potentially get caught up in some permanent shit, fucking with Meeka. So, I decided to put an exit strategy together, because I couldn’t stick around for too much longer. Meeka’s damn negative energy wasn’t about to rub off on me.

  ******

  I grabbed my basketball, ready to head out of the door. I’d been spending so much time trying to get my money right, that I’d given myself no time to relax. The only time I really ever came to the crib was when it was time for Meeka to get off work. I’d drop her ass off at home, and head right back out the door. And even that routine was getting old. She was beginning to bitch more and more about me using her car, and I was tired of hearing her mouth. So, I had plans to get my own car within the coming weeks.

  Keeping it real, I had enough to go buy something cash, but I wanted that new-new. I had my eyes set on either a Mercedes or a Lexus, but I needed somebody to get it in their name. Meeka’s credit wasn’t good enough, and I really didn’t want to be in anything attached to her name, because I was going to eventually dip out on her ass. So, I had really been trying to rack my brain, figuring out how I was gonna make shit happen.

  As soon as I stepped outside, I noticed Mya sitting outside on the steps with Quisha’s brother. He was a year younger than me, and spent all his time trying smash everything moving. Nigga ate, shit, and breathed for bitches, always trying to pull something. As of late, he’d been all in Mya’s face, as she’d been sneaking behind her mama’s back, wearing lil’ bitty shorts outside and shit. Then she must’ve had that good kind of hair, because her shit was silky from a simple flat ironing. She’d pulled the top into a bun, while the back hung freely down her back. Honestly, she looked to have a bit of Arabian in her with her hair like that…but yeah, her and that nigga were too cozy.

  “What’s up?” Quinten spoke, as Mya glanced up at me.

  I gave him a head nod, before focusing on her. “What you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” she answered smartly.

  “Yeah?” I bounced my basketball on the concrete. “Come take a ride with me.”

  “A ride with you?” she frowned. “Where are you going?”

  “Up the street to the park. Come shoot some hoops with me.”

  “How you know if I know how to play?”

  “Come learn,” I frowned, tempted to threaten to tell her mama that she was outside with this nigga.

  As if she could read my mind, she shot to her feet, and I realized how dangerously short her shorts were. I never thought a racer-back t-shirt and spandex multi-colored shorts could be so damn provocative. Quinten seemed to be hypnotized as he keyed in on her booty.

  “Let me go get my tennis shoes,” she announced, as she tipped back into the apartment.

  “On my life, I’ma get that. Mya just don’t know.” Quinten grabbed his dick through his jeans.

  “My nigga, you for real?” I furrowed my brows.

  “What?” he looked up at me confusingly.

  “You talking like I’m finna co-sign your bullshit. I know you’s a pussy hound, but we both know that she aint that kind of girl. So, chill out.”

  He scowled. “Fam, if I aint know no better I’d swear that you want her. Miss me with this step-daddy jib. We the same fucking age, and she is definitely fuckable. Even to you. But she fair game, and I’m on her. Period. Anything else, I aint tryna hear ya.”

  “Say, homie, I think you better watch ya muthafuckin mouth. I don’t know who you think I am, but I’ll light your bitch ass up,” I fumed.

  He stood up. “Like that?”

  “Straight like that, nigga.”

  “You ready?” Mya chimed in, standing next to me. She looked from me to Quinten. “Did I interrupt something?”

  There was a deadly silence, before he decided to say something. “Nah, you didn’t. Hit me up when you come back, Mya.”

  “Okay.” Her eyes wandered around.

  “Come on, man,” I urged, strolling off.

  She was right behind me. “Why was you arguing with that boy?”

  “Fuck him.”

  She shook her head, as she walked ahead of me. Naturally, I studied her walk. She was twisting hard, drawing attention to those thick legs. I peeped that her Adidas were a bit runover. “Man, them shoes is leaning,” I teased.

  She stopped at the Jeep, whirling around with her hands on her hips. “Well, apparently, this is all I fucking got. Anything else?”

  I threw my hands up. “Ay, don’t shoot. I was just fucking with you.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Play with ya mama.”

  I narrowed my eyes as I pulled the driver’s door open. “You always talking about somebody’s mama.”

  “Cause from what I can tell, mamas aint shit,” she claimed, and I couldn’t argue with that.

  Together we both climbed into the Jeep, before peeling off. We both said nothing, as the music played softly in the background. Soon, my cell was ringing, as Brea hit me up. Not wanting to talk, I sent her to voicemail.

  “You aint gotta hide shit from me. I know you fucking over Meeka. So, you can talk to your hoes in peace. Don’t worry. I aint gon tell her ass shit,” she offered.

  I licked my lips. “Say, I’m a grown ass man, so I definitely don’t need your permission to answer my phone.”

  She waved me off. “Yeah, a grown ass man driving his old skool bitch’s car.”

  I gripped the tip of my nose. “Somebody is gonna pop your smart ass in the mouth one of these days.”

  “As long as they know that my hands work too.”

  “Whatever, chump,” I grumbled, as I pulled up to the park, and parked on the side of the street. “Get out,” I told her, before easing out myself.

  She slid out of the SUV, while tugging at her shorts. “Damn, these muthafuckas keep riding up my thighs,” she complained.

  “Have you ever considered that they’re a little too small?”

  “Yeah, just like your brain,” she scoffed.

  “Mya, why you gotta talk so much shit? You should respect your step-daddy,” I grinned, as I bounced the basketball.

  “Oh, yeah,” she switched up to me. “I’ma show you how I treat a fucking step-daddy,” she spat, before shoving me, and snatching the ball out of my grasp.

  “Quit playing!” I chuckled, chasing her through the park.

  “Aint that what the park is for?” she posed, as she ran onto the court, doing a perfect lay-up. “To fuckin play.” She caught the ball, and bounced it on the pavement fancily. I mean, she was dribbling between her legs like a pro, which was a shocker. Shit, for the first few months I’d known her, I’d never seen her move beyond the couch…outside of cleaning up, of course.

  “When did you learn to do all that?” I had to ask.

  “I used to play a bunch of spo
rts a few years back,” she revealed, as she continued to shoot the ball from various positions.

  “Then what happened?”

  “My mama.”

  “What you mean by that?” I pressed.

  She stopped bouncing the ball, focusing on me. “Did you know that my mama was with my daddy, until I was twelve?”

  “Nah, I didn’t,” I frowned. The way Meeka never talked about the nigga, I figured she had the typical story. You know, like the nigga left her while she was pregnant, and had been a deadbeat ever since. I mean, I knew he paid child support, but it was clear that he wasn’t around. In fact, I’d been assuming that he was the reason she acted like that toward her daughter.

  “Well, yeah, my mama and daddy were together, until I was twelve. We lived in a nice house out there in the suburbs. Then my mama left my daddy, because he was cheating. Looking back on it, I think she did it as a scare tactic. You know, hoping he’d get his shit together. And for a minute, he straddled the fence, until he met Tori. Up until then, my daddy would come get me most weekends, and me and my mama’s relationship was pretty healthy. I’d go the beauty shop with her, and we were both well maintained,” she explained.

  “But then Tori came along, and my daddy decided that he wanted to get serious with her. He didn’t care that she was just nineteen, and that me and her didn’t get along. He just slowly but surely stopped coming to get me. His visits stopped completely once she had their first baby. They have three now, and I can’t remember the last time I seen the nigga. Now, I just deal with his mama, but he keeps his distance. And my mama…we were good, until she met Lonnie. See, Lonnie came after my daddy had broken Meeka’s heart, and she jumped in head first with him. So, before I knew it, we’d moved into his house. Everything was fine, until he slid into my room one night, trying to fuck me.”

  “Damn,” I stressed, not knowing what else to say.

  “Right,” she replied gloomily. “But that’s not where it ends. I screamed so loud that my mama busted into the room, catching him red-handed. So, that was the end of that relationship. And we found ourselves in between houses, with us having to leave Lonnie’s house so abruptly. We stayed with my mama’s mama and a few other people. It was then that I started noticing that my mama’s attitude toward me was changing. She was less affectionate, and a lot more dismissive. Still, we were alright…until Mon. Mon eventually tried the same shit that Lonnie had, and again I told my mama. This time she told me that I was lying, until he succeeded in having sex with me. I told the people at school, and they did a criminal investigation, which landed him in jail.