“Shit,” Nikki said, shrugging her shoulders. “You said that you gotta get home to your chick and stuff.” She pretended to open her car door. “I don’t wanna hold you up or nothin’. I’mma prolly go home and see who I can hit up.”
“Hit up for what?” Breon asked, looking at the time. He figured he had a little more time to kill. “I mean, if you don’t mind me askin’.”
Nikki turned back to Breon and smiled. “Shit, just a nigga I can kick it with,” she responded. “Do a little something so I ain’t gotta be bored.”
Breon leaned back and looked up and down the street, chuckling. “Shit, I know what you mean,” he said. He looked into Nikki’s eyes with a sheepish grin. “I don’t know if my chick is even gonna be up for anything when I get home and shit. She’s like that sometimes.”
Nikki leaned over the console and began to unzip Breon’s fly. Once his soft manhood was out and exposed, she took her seatbelt off and lifted herself onto her knees, on the seat. Breon pulled his hand from behind the seat and gripped the back of Nikki’s head as she took his manhood into her mouth and thanked him for being there for her in Wayne’s house.
“Fuck,” Breon said, seeing exactly what the fuss was about back in high school. He turned the radio down so that slurping noises now filled the quiet SUV. “Damn,” Breon said, softly as he leaned his head back. “You can suck dick so good.”
CHAPTER 2
Trina was ready to laugh it up big time with her sister Monique. The two had been so busy lately that they really hadn’t had time to catch up and do what sisters do, which for them was talk about any and everything around them in their daily lives.
“Girl, you look like you done lost some weight, I swear,” Trina said, looking at Monique walk through the door.
Dressed in brown Uggs, white leggings, and a brown sweater, Monique came bouncing through the door. At 5’10, she was by far the tallest out of all her sisters. To add to her height, she was blessed with being a little on the heavy side. Her weight was very proportionate. And she found that men liked a shapely BBW, even if they didn’t want to admit it. She’d just gotten a job downtown that had her doing a bit more walking than she was used to. It showed, as she was losing weight but not her shape.
“Girl, stop,” Monique said, smiling. She leaned down and hugged Trina, who topped out at 5’2. “You know I ain’t try’na lose no weight. That would drive them niggas crazy if I lost all this ass. You would see them droppin’ dead and shit. Trust me, I’mma gain it back. Ain’t been nothin’ but ten pounds, but its ten pounds I need.”
Trina ushered her sister into her and Breon’s apartment. Cleaned up for company, since Trina had sent the text messages out to her two sisters earlier in the day, the smell of spaghetti was in the air. Monique sniffed the air and looked toward the kitchen. “Looks like I might get them ten pounds back tonight,” she joked. “Good… ‘Cause I got this one nigga comin’ over tomorrow that like when I sit this pussy on his face.”
Trina slapped her sister’s shoulder. “Girl, stop with all that,” she said. “You always come around talkin’ nasty and stuff. I don’t know why you gotta be that way.”
“Girl, you stop,” Monique snapped back, waving Trina away. “I don’t know why you just can’t accept that everybody ain’t as wholesome and sweet as you is.”
“Wholesome and sweet?” Trina asked. “That is not how I would describe myself, Monique.”
“Well, it’s good that folk don’t ask you to describe yourself,” Monique said, from the kitchen. “Which cabinet the plates in so I can eat? When Breon gon’ be comin’ home?”
“Girl, you know you remember what I told you in the text messages earlier,” Trina said, walking over into the living room and plopping down onto the white sectional. “I told you that he went over to some friend’s house who was havin’ a comin’ home party for some dude that just got out of prison. Breon said they went to high school with him.”
“Girl, why you not go?” Monique asked. “I mean, I woulda went to somethin’ like that. Meet some folk. Free food. Free heat. Why you ain’t go to that, girl?”
“I guess you playin’ the dumb blonde bitch today,” Trina said. “I see you don’t remember me tellin’ you that I had already told him I was going to have you and Tamar over tonight and was just waiting to see what the weather was gon’ be.”
Monique came walking out of the kitchen with her plate of spaghetti. She made it very clear that she was giving Trina the side eye. “Girl, you gon’ stop talkin’ bout my blonde hair,” Monique said. “Or else we gon’ have to fight. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ bout goin’ and havin’ some red put into it now that you mention it.”
“Girl, boo,” Trina said. “So, anyway, did you bring it?”
Monique was chewing her first fork full of spaghetti. “Trina, what kinda question is that?” she asked. “You know I brought that good shit with me. Have I ever let you down?” Monique could see that Trina was opening her mouth, and she already knew what she was going to say. “And don’t bring up that time over in Indiana ‘cause you know that wasn’t my fault.”
“How the fuck it’s not your fault that you didn’t bring any money and we were going to meet your guy?” Trina said. “Girl, I’m startin’ to worry about you. Somethin’ tells me that you might be puttin’ too much color in your hair and that shit is seeping through your scalp and into your brain.” Trina smacked her lips together, letting her sister know that she’d taken command of the floor. “So, anyway, I’m ready to smoke when you are.”
“We not gon’ wait on Tamar?” Monique asked. “I mean, damn, girl. She is our sister, or have you forgotten?”
Just as Trina was about to respond, there was a knock at the door. “See, I was waitin’ on her,” Trina said as she marched over to the apartment door. Monique continued eating, shaking her head.
Trina opened the door. No sooner than she could say hello to her sister, Tamar came rushing in. At 5’3", Tamar looked the most like Trina. While Trina was known for her luscious, dark ebony skin, Tamar was known for being what people would often call the perfect brown. At about the same weight as Trina, about 130 pounds, Tamar was known for her long legs while Trina was known for her hips and butt. Dressed in a nice black and white Alexander Wang dress, matched with some white six-inch heels, Tamar marched into the apartment and dropped her coat over the counter that looked into the kitchen from the dining area.
“Girl, what is your problem?” Trina asked, closing the door. “You just walk up in here and can’t even speak first?”
Tamar, a struggling fashion designer, put her hand on her forehead and shook her head side to side. “You won’t believe what I just had to do,” she said. “You won’t believe what that nigga Kenny made me just have to do.”
Trina and Monique both sensed that it was something very serious. Tamar was known for her cold, professional demeanor. However, she could get feisty and rowdy when the time called for it. Whatever had happened had clearly been one of those times.
“What? What?” Trina asked. “Girl, what are you talkin’ bout?”
Tamar noticed that Trina had a bottle of wine sitting inside of a bowl with ice on the counter inside of the kitchen, next to the stove. She huffed and puffed as she walked passed Trina and into the kitchen. She came back out with the bottle of wine, popped the cork out with a cork screw, and helped herself to a glass.
“Well, damn,” Trina said. “Have some wine, why don’t you? It’s in the kitchen. Help yourself, please.”
“Thank you, girl,” Tamar said. She downed the entire glass in one gulp. “Thank you so much, I needed that. Y’all not gon’ believe what that nigga Kenny made me have to do.”
“From the sounds of it,” Monique said, sarcastically, “we’ll never hear it to know if we gon’ believe it or not.”
“Girl, shut up,” Tamar said. “Not right now. I just came from this get together, I guess you could call it. I left earlier than I thought so I could run home and get something and
come over here. You not gon’ believe what the fuck I found when I got back to my apartment.”
Monique looked with anticipation, her eyes wide open. Trina looked with contempt. Tamar always had some sort of drama going. Trina had been telling her for the last few years that she should go and try out for one of the Love & Hip Hop franchises. K. Michelle, Rasheeda, and Jocelyn Hernandez would really have some competition. Trina had also told her that if that didn’t work out, she could go knock on R&B Divas’ door and give Lil’ Mo a little run for her money.
“Girl, what?” Trina asked, tired of hanging on.
Tamar put her hand on her hip and shook her head. “Girl, not today,” she said. “Don’t rush me. So, anyway, I get back up to the apartment and just as I’m gettin’ my keys out so I can let myself in, the door opens.” She paused. “And tell me why did this ole ratchet ass chick come walkin’ out, lookin’ at me like she done seen a ghost. The bitch so damn ratchet she had streaked blonde hair, and I mean the shit was so blond she prolly would look bald-headed if she was walking down the street on a really sunny day.”
Monique squinted at Tamar. She looked over into the living room. “Girl, sorry,” Tamar said. “I’m just tellin’ it how it is. And she had this brightest lipstick and these fake fingernails that were so long she looked like she could fight the Wolverine dude off from X-Men.”
Trina glanced over at Monique, as she was always one to wear bright shades of lipstick. Her nails may not have been the longest, but they were certainly noticeable. And she kept them colored and sparkled and bejeweled all day, every day. Monique squinted at Tamar again. Tamar held her hand up and shook her head. “Girl, sorry,” she said. “I’m just tellin’ it like it is.”
Tamar crossed the room and sat down on one of the sections. Trina poured herself a glass of wine and sat down as well. “So,” she said, sipping her wine. “Do Kenny got a side chick?”
“Do he got a side chick?” Tamar asked, feeling that it was a silly question. “The bitch was practically wiping her mouth when she came walkin’ out the door, Trina. You could tell she’d just been in there, suckin’ that nigga’s dick. Hell, I coulda swore I seen some slobber runnin’ down her chin.”
“So, what did you do?” Monique asked.
“What you mean what I do?” Tamar asked. “I asked her what the fuck she was doin’ there and who the fuck she was. She hurried her ass up and got on down them stairs, talking bout she ain’t have time for that bullshit because she had to go to work. She was wearing some old uniform-looking pants now that I think about it. I marched right on past her tacky ass – sorry Monique – and through the front door because disrespect like that just won’t stand. Y’all shoulda seen the look on Kenny’s face when he seen me. The nigga was coming out of the bedroom with this smile on his face, calling the bitch's name, as he was sliding into his drawers.”
Trina put her hand over her mouth, so thankful that her relationship was stable and rather drama free. Tamar, on the other hand, seemed to have this sort of thing happen with every man she dated. No matter what, there would inevitably be some sort of drama in her relationships. “Girl, you lyin’,” Trina said, shaking her head. “You lyin’, girl.”
Tamar threw her hands in the air. When they landed, she slapped her thighs. “If I’m lyin’, I’m dyin’,” she said.
“So what he say?” Trina asked.
“What you mean what he say?” Tamar asked. “He said what any caught man would say. He said some shit about it’s not what it looks like. I guess the nigga thought I was blind ‘cause what it look like to me was he was gettin’ his drawers back on after gettin’ his dick sucked by some thot.”
Monique shook her head. “That’s a shame,” she said, thinking about the different men she had invited over to her place so she could put it on them in a way their wives wouldn’t at home. She was smart about her stuff, however. She always had the men over to her place rather than ever risk being in their place, be it a house or an apartment. Back when she was 20 years old, just a couple of years ago, she had learned her lesson. A married man was having the time of his life, long stroking Monique and her BBW body from the back. His skinny, no-body-having wife came walking in with the worst attitude. The wife then started something that she couldn’t finish. Next day, Monique was arrested at her job for assault and battery.
“Girl, I know you not talkin’,” Tamar said. “Anyway, I ain’t do what you do, Monique.”
“What you mean?” Monique asked with a scrunched up face.
“I ain’t do no stupid shit like fight the chick,” Tamar said. “I got too much class for that.” She put her long, slender legs forward and stretched them as she leaned back and posed. “You wanna know what I did instead? I jumped on that nigga. I jumped on his ass in a way that I could tell he ain’t think it was comin’.”
Trina and Monique laughed. “Girl, stop with the lies,” Trina said. “You could have broken a nail.”
Tamar looked at Trina. “Girl, shut up,” she said, holding her nails up to show them. “You see I ain’t broke no nails yet. I slapped that nigga with my right hand so many times it started to hurt. I mean, I damn near broke my wrist from how hard I was slappin’ his face. So, I went to usin’ my left hand. You know it ain’t as strong as my right, of course, but I gave it my best and went hard, girl. He talkin’ bout he gon’ call the police on me. I looked him in his eyes and told him I wish he would call the police. Lyin’ ass motherfucka.”
“I’m glad I don’t have these kinds of problems,” Trina said, shaking her head.
“Oh, Cinderella, stop with all that,” Tamar said. “You probably just don’t know you got these kinds of problems or whatever shit you just said. You probably don’t even know it. We all have these kinds of problems.”
“No, I don’t,” Trina said. “I’m telling you, it has been getting really serious between me and Breon lately. He always answers the phone when I call or calls me right back. I done met his family and I can tell they really like me, and I like them too. I love his mama. She’s funny as hell. Plus, Breon even told me about messing up some of his relationships in the past because he was messing around. Girl, he try’na be done with all that. You wouldn’t believe some of the games them chicks would play on him, trying to say they was pregnant with his baby and all that kind of stuff.” She chuckled and shook her head.
“And that’s great, Trina,” Tamar said. “I really do think it is. I’m not saying the man don’t love you or nothin’ like that. But don’t think that he won’t take the chance to get serious with some other chick when you not around. You know how these niggas is, they will do whatever it takes to get they dick sucked, as you can see I went home and found out today anyway.” She let out a loud groan. “Anyway, where is Breon at right now anyway?”
Trina explained the homecoming get together again. She noticed the way Monique was looking in her direction, her eyes telling her that she needed to bring up what they’d talked about earlier. Tamar, who was much closer to being thirty years old, looked at her two younger sisters. She noticed the way they were looking at one another and knew that there was something she hadn’t been let in on. Ever since they were young girls, she hated not being let in on something. “What?” Tamar asked, wanting to finish her story but seeing that the conversation had moved on. “What the fuck y’all over there sayin’ with your eyes?”
Monique and Trina looked at each other for a few more seconds before Monique broke the silence. “Looks like Mama and Daddy gon’ be happy real soon,” she said. “Looks like Trina might be gettin’ married soon.”
Tamar’s head jerked to the right and she looked at Trina. Her eyes angled down toward her hands. “Girl, I don’t see no ring,” she said. “What you talkin’ about she might be gettin’ married soon? Trina? Trina?”
“I’ll explain,” Monique said, grabbing the attention. “When I was going into my new job the other day, I saw Breon coming out of the Kay Jewelers at the other end of the mall. He was putting some little
paper in his pocket, but it ain’t like I could see what it was.”
Tamar made a surprised look and looked back to Trina. “Now he gon’ enslave you, huh?” she asked, sarcastically. “Girl, I’m just playin’. Well, that sounds nice I guess.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m just so happy for you.”
“Tamar, don’t even go there,” Trina said. “You know Monique was prolly trippin'.”
“But ain’t you the one who just said that things been gettin’ serious between the two of you, Trina?” Tamar asked. “I coulda swore I just heard you say that.”
“Girl, they are,” Trina said. “But I doubt he goin’ and getting’ a ring.”
“Well,” Tamar said, raising her eyebrows and looking away. “You know Christmas is comin’ up, girl. Right around the corner.”
“And that ain’t all that’s comin’ up,” Monique said.
Trina slapped her thighs and looked across at her sister. “Girl, I swear,” she said. “I ain’t gon’ tell you shit no more. You run your mouth too much. I bet you snapped a picture and put that shit on Facebook.”
Monique pulled her phone out of her pocket as she set her plate down on the coffee table. “Well, since you mention it,” she said. She then shook her head. “Naw, girl. You know I’m playin’. Trina, why don’t you wanna tell your sister?”
“Well,” Trina said, looking at Tamar.
Tamar sensed the hesitation in her sister’s voice. She closed her eyes and looked away. “Nope,” she said. “If you don’t wanna tell me, for whatever reason, but wanna tell the ratchet one – sorry Monique – everything, that’s cool. I can live with that. Okay then.”
“Okay, okay,” Trina said, deciding to just spill it all. “The other day, Breon was talking about us maybe going somewhere for our anniversary.”
“And when is that?” Tamar asked. “Girl, you know with how busy I am and stuff, I ain’t got time to remember that kinda stuff. When is your anniversary anyway?”
“It’s December twentieth,” Trina answered. “It’s the twentieth.”
The Wrath of a Side Chick: A Chicago Hood Drama (Side Chick's Wrath Book 1) Page 3
