Even When It's Wrong

by Nicole Jackson

  “Bitch, you driving that? Omari letting you use that?” Nisha nosily inquired.

  Before I could respond, a BMW parked right next to me swung it’s door open. Out stepped ole girl from the studio. I didn’t remember her name, but I recognized her face immediately. She’d been the smart-mouth hoe, who was trying to be funny. Admittedly, she was pretty with her light eyes, and fair skin, but her personality made her ugly as fuck.

  I went to pull the driver’s side of the Lexus open, when she started.

  “Uh, are you driving this truck?” she questioned, touching the hood, as if it belonged to her.

  I took a pause, before answering her. “Yeah?”

  Her face turned beet red. “Where the fuck is Omari?”

  I gulped. “Why?”

  Nisha and Jayde stood on the sidelines, laughing their heads off.

  “Because this is my muthafuckin rental, and I wanna know why the fuck you getting in it!” she yelled, drawing attention to us.

  Internally, I was hot. So, this was the bitch Omari had been dealing with. For some reason, I’d imagined some ugly girl he was using. But seeing her shattered everything I’d naively assumed. I was now a thousand percent sure that he was fucking this bitch, and that infuriated me. The only thing on my mind was destruction. Starting with her.

  “Oh okay, this is your rental, but who has the keys?” I asked, attempting to remain calm.

  “And that’s what I wanna know,” she seethed. “Where is he?”

  “That nigga at home. And the last time I checked, he don’t lay his head by your house, so why do you think that somebody owe you a explanation?”

  “This my shit, though!”

  “It’s your shit, but I’m finna get in this muthafucka and drive off in it. So, I ask you how much is it really yours?”

  “Oh, you aint driving nothing,” her nostrils flared, as she stomped around the front of the truck.

  “And you gon stop me?” I arched a brow. “I’d love to see you try.”

  Angrily, she grabbed the door, like she was preventing me from leaving.

  “Bitch!” I reached back, and punched her in the face.

  “Aw shit!” I heard a dude blurt from a distance.

  After catching her balance, she charged at me, yanking my hair. With little effort, I grabbed her ass, placing her in a headlock. Furiously, I pummeled her face. Several people whipped out their cells, filming us. I worked her over, until she gave up.

  “Get her off me!” she cried out.

  “Okay, okay,” some random nigga interrupted, pulling me back. “You got it, mama. That’s enough.”

  I stepped back, touching my hair, making sure that she hadn’t pulled any of it out.

  “Where my phone?” ole girl fumed, as she trampled to the BMW. “I’m calling the police,” she spat, as her nose bled.

  “Nah, lil’ mama, all that aint necessary,” the dude spoke up. “Them laws aint gon do shit, and you just gon make it hot up here for a nigga.”

  “I don’t give a fuck!” she belted, as she retrieved her cell.

  Jayde shook her head. “Bitch, get out of here, before her snitching ass get you in trouble.”

  She aint have to tell me twice, as I hopped into the Lexus. Within seconds, I backed out of the lot, like a bat out of hell. I’d made it one block, when my cell went off.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Where the fuck you at?!” Omari shouted into the phone.

  “I went to the store.”

  “You went to the store?! Well, where the fuck is my keys?”

  I huffed. “I got them.”

  “And why is that, Mya?”

  “Because I drove to the store,” I snapped. “Anything else?”

  “Wait, who the fuck are you talking to?”

  “I’m talking to your ass!” I shouted. “Why didn’t you tell me that that bitch from the studio was getting the rentals for you?”

  “What?” he tried to play crazy.

  “Nigga, you heard me,” I spewed. “I ran into the bitch back at the store. She wanted to know why I was in her truck. Shit got crazy, and I whupped her ass.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. Say that shit again,” he urged.

  “I said that I ran into that hoe at the store. She ran up on me, acting crazy, so I whupped her ass.”

  “Man,” he drawled. “Why would you do that, Mya?”

  “The fuck you mean?! The bitch was talking greasy! But that’s beside the point. What, you defending the hoe?”

  “Defending her for what?”

  “I don’t know, you tell me! She definitely don’t seem like the type to just dry help your ass out. That bitch wanted answers like she’s your fuckin’ gal. So, I know you been fucking her,” I growled, as I pulled back into the complex.

  He sucked his teeth. “I don’t know what the fuck you talking about. Where you at?”

  “I’m pulling up now,” I told him, before realizing that he was already standing in the spot, he’d been parked in.

  He was outside shirtless, wearing basketball shorts and socks. Seeing me, he stepped back, allowing me to park. Before I could turn off the truck, he’d pulled the door open.

  “The fuck is you doing, man?” he frowned. “How you just gon take the truck, while I’m sleep?”

  I snarled. “Nigga, I did that! But forget that shit. What’s going on between you, and that hoe?”

  He bucked his eyes. “Nothing!”

  Knowing he was bullshitting me, I lost it. “Stop lying!” I mushed his head, pushing him back a few feet.

  “Girl, you tripping!” he grabbed my hands.

  “Let me go! With ya bitch ass!”

  He cautiously looked around, before focusing on me. “Chill. You causing a fucking scene. Got all these nosy muthafuckas in my business.”

  Realizing that I was doing too much publicly, I calmed down. Something like me and Omari fighting outside could get back to Meeka, which would be hard to explain away. “Get off me!” I snatched away from him. Thinking about him with ole girl had me raging, as I stomped around him. “I’m done with you.”

  “What?” he pushed the door of the Lexus closed.

  “You heard me,” I grumbled, as I marched onto the sidewalk. “You lied to me, and I aint doing this with you. I’ma just do me, and you can keep doing the bullshit you doing.”

  “Do you?” he followed me down the sidewalk. “The fuck that mean?”

  I shrugged.

  “Hell, nah, you gon tell me what that mean,” he insisted, as we made it back to our apartment building.

  “Exactly what I just said,” I scoffed, copping a seat on the stairs.

  Judging by the mean mug on his face, I was pissing him off, which was what I wanted. Despite the fact that we couldn’t technically say that we were together, he’d get riled up at the mere mentioning of me seeing other people. I liked that, but it also sounded crazy. He wanted me to be loyal, when even on his best behavior he couldn’t give me the same. And that factor was becoming a bigger problem by the day. I was too emotionally attached, which made his interactions with other women impossible to ignore. Which meant that there in that moment I knew that we couldn’t do this forever. No matter how I felt about him.

  Omari

  Mya really knew how to push my buttons. She had been talking reckless, lately, begging me to go off on her ass. Every other day she was throwing tantrums, which had me doing more explaining than I’d done in my entire life. So, outside of hustling I didn’t have time for shit else. After dealing with her, and all that rah-rah them hoes couldn’t get the dick, and barely received conversation.

  Meeka had been threatening to put me out, because I hadn’t fucked her in over a month. She’d been cutting up, trying to go through my phone and shit. I’d caught her red-handed one day, and used that as another excuse not to bless her with the D. Then there was Skyy. She was still fine as fuck to me, and I’d been meaning to give her some time, but I’d been tied up. So now, she’d been bitching, an
d using that rental as a excuse to run me down. On two separate occasions she’d threatened to knock on my door, and tell Meeka everything. Honestly, I knew that her doing that probably wouldn’t change shit between me and Meeka. But Mya…that was a different story. I found myself lying to her, because I cared about her feelings.

  Keeping it real, I knew that I felt something for Mya, as well. Her tears actually affected me, had me coming in earlier than usual, and thinking twice about my actions. But being that accommodating to her had every other relationship suffering. Yet and still, her ass wasn’t satisfied, constantly claiming that she was going to start doing her. And I couldn’t have that.

  “Say, I know you mad, and all. But you better stop playing with me. All this talk of doing you aint gon do shit but have me fucking your world up,” I gritted, glowering down at her.

  She boldly looked up at me. “Omari. Shut up talking to me, and go fuck yourself.”

  Before I could properly cuss her out, my cell vibrated in my pocket. Pulling it out, I saw that it was Skyy calling. Under normal circumstances I would have allowed the voicemail to catch the call, but I needed to know where her head was at.

  “Yeah?” I answered, while keeping my eyes trained on Mya.

  “Why was that lil’ bitch driving my car?!” Skyy screamed.

  “Wait, wait, hold up,” I halted her. “The fuck are you talking about?”

  “Man,” Mya drawled, attempting to stand, but I pushed her back down.

  “Sit down,” I commanded.

  “I’m talking about that lil’ bitch you live around. She was at the store in the truck. That shit is in my name, and she’s going to jail for driving an unauthorized vehicle.”

  I sucked my teeth. “She going to jail? Skyy you losing your fucking mind. You called the police?”

  “Yeah, I did. Them bitches are taking forever to come to this store too.”

  “Oh, I know you losing it. You don’t even know her name to tell them shit, and she had my permission to drive that truck. Shit, I paid for it.”

  “Yeah, you paid for it. But I only approved of you driving it. And then she put her hands on me.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to be patient. “Look, Skyy, man, you tripping. From the beginning I told you that I’d take full responsibility if something happened to your rental. Regardless of who was behind the wheel. And you had no business trying to run up on somebody over the truck. If there was a issue, you should have gave me a call. But getting this laws involved is uncalled for. So, if that’s the route you taking just come get the fucking truck and lose my number. Cause you know that Ion fuck with police.”

  “Omari, I’m not calling the police on you, though,” she attempted to clarify.

  “It don’t matter. You calling them on my people, over some shit you started. That would be no different if you called on her mama, when you know I live with her. I can understand you coming to me over the situation, but you came to her, when she didn’t even know that the truck was in your name.”

  “But I never touched her,” Skyy explained. “I grabbed the door, and she punched me in the face.”

  I shook my head, as I watched Mya. “And that’s fucked up, but look at it like this. You came out of nowhere, trying to stop her from leaving. She didn’t know what was up, Skyy. How else was she supposed to react?”

  “I say she’s fucking you,” Skyy accused for the umpteenth time. “Why are you letting her drive something in my name?”

  “Now you getting to it. You trying to get her jammed up over some bullshit. That aint cool. You worrying about irrelevant shit, and dry getting the laws involved. I can’t fuck with it.”

  For a few seconds Skyy held the phone, before sighing heavily. “Alright, Omari. I’m leaving the scene now, but I really need to talk to you face to face. We need to get some shit understood.”

  “Yeah, alright. Let me handle something, right quick. I’ll hit you in a few.”

  “And what’s a few?” she pressed.

  “In a few, man,” I snapped. “Damn. Now bye.” I ended the call.

  “But you want me to believe that you aint fucking her,” Mya fumed.

  I took a deep breath. “I never said that I don’t finesse the situation. But that don’t mean that I’m fucking her.”

  “You doing more than talking. She wasn’t plexed up just over that truck. She was too mad. The whole way she handled that was about emotions.”

  “But what control do I have over that?”

  She curled her lips. “And that’s gonna be the same question you’ll be asking yourself, when I bring the next nigga around.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Ion even think you believe that.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She folded her arms.

  Before I could address her, my phone was ringing once again. This time it was Meeka. Since I no longer used her Jeep, I was less inclined to pick up her calls, and this day would be no different.

  “You keep doing her like that, she’s gonna put you out,” Mya commented, peeking at my cell’s screen.

  “Then I’d just be put out, huh? Then you could really do you in peace.”

  She tucked his lips into her mouth. “Whatever.”

  “Nah, don’t say whatever. Maybe I need to move out, since aint shit here for me.”

  She shook her head, before grumbling. “You talking crazy.”

  I furrowed my brows. “What’s crazy about that?”

  She avoided eye contact with me. “You saying that there’s nothing here for you.”

  “Oh, so that’s crazy, huh? Well, tell me what is here for me.”

  She rolled her eyes, before focusing on my face. “Me.”

  “You, huh?” I hovered over her. “Well, act like it.” I poked her temple.

  “Move,” she swatted my hand away.

  “Mya, you know you could’ve gave me a ride,” Quisha interrupted, walking up the sidewalk.

  Mya held back a grin. “What you talking about?”

  “Bitch, you know you saw me walking from the bus stop,” Quisha huffed, before lazily leaning on the railing of the stairs.

  “Oh, that was you?” Mya squinted.

  “Hoe, you know that was me,” Quisha pursed her lips.

  “No I didn’t. My bad, girl,” Mya tittered.

  “Whatever. You or Omari better give me something, before I tell.”

  “Tell what?” she asked.

  “I’ma tell Meeka that you fucking her man, bitch,” she playfully shoved Mya’s head.

  “You got me fucked up,” Mya uttered.

  “Yeah, right. I see Omari aint said shit. That nigga know yall aint shit. I be hearing that screaming. From about five to ten it be going down in that apartment. And Meeka ass don’t be nowhere around. Yall gon fuck around and get caught.”

  “Quisha, you love to make up shit. Aint none of that shit going on,” I spoke up.

  “Uh huh, and that wasn’t you asking if somebody was gonna be a good girl, and sit all the way down on your dick yesterday,” she offered sarcastically.

  Damn, those walls were thin, and she was nosy as fuck. “Look, I’m only giving you two grams this time.”

  Quisha smiled. “That’ll do. For now, anyway.”

  Mya shook her head. “And that’s why I aint give you a ride. Your blackmailing ass need to walk. Got him buying you McDonald’s every day. That shit aint healthy.”

  “And fucking ya mama’s man aint, either.” Quisha stuck her tongue out.

  “Girl, fuck you,” Mya yawned, before standing, and taking a long stretch. Her muscle shirt slightly lifted, revealing her flat stomach. Her heart-shaped lower half was fully-displayed in her skin tight pants.

  “Damn, Omari, you must be dicking Meeka down properly,” Quisha chattered.

  “What?” I frowned. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’m saying. For Meeka to be allowing this hoe to wear these snug ass clothes, you gotta be doing something. I thought that Mya couldn’t even wear her panties this
tight.”

  Mya snickered. “Quisha, don’t worry about this, baby.” She grabbed her ass with both hands.

  I chuckled at Quisha’s remarks, as my gaze fell to the ground.

  “What the fuck are you wearing?” I heard someone question. Quickly lifting my head, I found Meeka standing there in her work clothes with a scowl on her face.

  “Mama,” Mya gasped, completely caught off guard.

  “Don’t fucking mama me, you lil’ bitch. The fuck are you wearing?” Meeka stepped in Mya’s face. “And how the fuck did you get it?”

  Mya stepped back a few feet. Meeka inched right back up, and into her face.

  “You better open your mouth, and tell me something. Before I knock the dog shit out of you!”

  I stood back, watching the shit unfold, knowing that everything was about to get out of control. There’d been several times that Meeka clowned, and each time it became increasingly more difficult for me to stay out of it. Shit, the last few times, I’d jumped into their disputes headfirst, causing Meeka to come with the wildest accusations. So, I’d been trying to chill, and let shit ride. But this time…I couldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. But speaking up could open up the door to so much other bullshit, and that wasn’t what I needed or wanted. Still, it was what it was.

  “Meeka, chill out,” I pulled her away from Mya.

  She glared at me. “Omari, please let me handle this. I need to know who is buying these clothes for this hoe.” She pointed at Mya. “She probably out here fucking some grown ass man, and if that’s the case, I’ma put my foot off in her ass!”

  I sucked my teeth. “You tripping, Meeka. That girl aint doing all that.”

  She twisted her neck. “And how you know?”

  “Cause,” I exhaled, deciding that I wasn’t gonna dance around the truth. “I bought the shit for her.”

  “You what?” she growled, stepping to me.

  “Man,” I drawled. “Let’s go discuss this in the house.”

  “No, fuck all that.” She waved her hand. “The fuck you mean that you bought her that shit?!”

  “LET’S GO IN THE FUCKING HOUSE!” I barked, getting frustrated, as all the neighbors slowly stepped outside.