“That’s good,” Cap said. “Shit, the little nigga is still young enough to where he could have a chance. He better just stay out them streets and go get a degree or a trade or some shit from one of them schools over in Chicago, and not have no babies.” There was a moment of silence. “So, nigga, what?” Cap asked, a little confrontational but with a smile. “You came over here to tell me that you got a baby on the way or somethin’? How’s Trina? You done got her pregnant and stuff, ain’t you? You told your mama yet? I talked to that woman the other day and she still crazy as a bat out of hell. You know she needs some grandkids or somethin’ before she go crazier.”
“Naw,” Breon said, shaking his head and laughing. “I ain’t got Trina pregnant. She doin’ good and stuff, actually. Our anniversary is comin’ up and I’m thinkin’ about maybe takin’ her down to Gatlinburg for a couple days.”
“Uh oh,” Cap said, standing up. He looked down at his son, looking over the top of his glasses. “I know what that mean. You gon’ pop the question, ain’t you? Oh God… Little nigga is thinkin’ about gettin’ married. Don’t go it. Don’t do it. Trust me… You don’t wanna become a slave like I did. Trust me, nigga, don’t do it.”
“A slave, Daddy?” Breon asked, laughing and shaking his head. “What you talkin’ bout a slave?”
“Nigga, you know what I mean,” Cap said, walking over to his front door and looking through the window. “You know how everything can be goin’ so good when you datin’, even if you just boyfriend and girlfriend for years. Then, for some reason, soon as women get the ring, everything start changing. They start making demands and shit and actin’ like they own you and you supposed to be where they want you to be and all that.”
“Trina ain’t like that,” Breon said. “You know Trina, Daddy. You know she ain’t like that.”
Cap stepped back out into the middle of the living room floor and looked dead into his son’s eyes. “Nigga, who the fuck you tellin’?” he asked. “Listen to me, nigga. I got married when I was eighteen. Had been datin’ that girl for three years and she was basically what I guess y’all young niggas call a high school sweetheart and stuff. Yeah, the chick was sweet all right. She was sweet on goin’ to the mall and spending up all her money then having the nerve to be shitty with a nigga when I suddenly gotta pay all the bills and shit and ain’t got no money. What had been a three-year relationship turned into a one-year marriage. She sent me running into that courtroom so I could get the hell out of there. I even told her to keep the ring.”
“Daddy, it ain’t gon be like that with Trina,” Breon said. “And plus, you know we already live together.”
“I know,” Cap said. “That’s what your mama was tellin’ me. And y’all still ain’t invited her over to your place, have you? Yeah, she’s shitty about that shit too, just so you know. But don’t tell her that I told you. Good God, please don’t tell her I told you.” Cap paused for a moment. “Then I met your mama. And you saw how that turned out.”
“Yeah, why do Mama gotta be so damn bitchy, Daddy?” Breon asked.
“I don’t know,” Cap said, shaking his head and snickering. “She got that way as she got older. I’m tellin’ you, nigga, don’t do it. Why you wanna get married anyway?”
Breon shrugged his shoulders. “I mean, I love Trina, Daddy,” he answered. “Everything’s been going good for some years now and I really can’t see myself bein’ with no other chick.”
“Nigga, shit can keep goin’ good without you signing your life over to a woman,” Cap said. He then waved his hand in the air. “Whatever, nigga,” he said. “It’s your life. Do what you want and shit, I guess. Don’t say I ain’t warn you, though. And don’t come askin’ me for no lawyer money, ‘cause I ain’t got it.”
Breon looked around at his father’s house—a house he had inherited after his mother’s passing. It was a nice house but obviously had not had much money put into it. “Okay, Daddy,” he said. “You ain’t gotta worry about me comin’ to you and askin’ for no lawyer money. But that ain’t why I came to talk to you.”
“Oh God,” Cap said, shaking his head. He walked toward the kitchen, which was just on the other side of the dining area. “Now the nigga comin’ to me askin’ to help pay for the wedding. I knew I shouldn’t have answered the damn phone. And on a Sunday. That’s never good.”
Breon shook his head. “Naw, Daddy,” he said. “I got some money saved up. That ain’t why I came over here. I wanna ask your advice on something. How do you think I should approach Trina’s father and ask him if it’s coo if I marry his daughter?”
“What you mean how should you approach him?” Cap asked, from the kitchen. He been knelt down inside of the refrigerator. He returned with two cold Coronas and handed one to his son. “Nigga ain’t got no phone or nothin’?” he asked. “Just call the nigga and say you wanna have lunch with him or somethin’ and ask him then. And really, if you wanna know the truth, you should be askin’ him to be payin’ for this shit. Yeah, do that. Ask him before you spend your money, son. Now that I look back, paying for two weddings to women who both had daddies that got off free just don’t make no damn sense. Oh well, it’s over now and I’ve been bled dry.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that, Daddy,” Breon said.
“What you mean?” Cap asked. “She one of these chicks who ain’t got no Daddy or some shit like that? If that’s the case, then you ain’t gotta ask him nothin’. Or, if you still want to, just call the nigga up and talk to him. Do you even know him? I feel like you said something to me once about meeting him or something, but shit, I can’t remember. There is just too much to remember nowadays. Between ISIS, white people actin’ up with Donald Trump’s ole racist ass, and the cost of living going up but not incomes, this world is really going to hell. I don’t even know what to think no more.”
“No, Daddy,” Breon said, starting to think that he might need to take the Corona away from his father. “What I’m sayin’ is that she and her daddy basically had a falling out to where they not talkin’ no more, and I don’t know how I need to go about talkin’ to him. He live up in Minnesota.”
“Minnesota?” Cap asked, gulping his beer. “Nigga, you know how cold it is up there right now? You really thinkin’ about goin’ up there and talkin’ to him right now. Nigga, you crazy. I been up there a couple times and that shit is even fuckin’ colder than Chicago, not to mention all the snow they get up there. Man, you might wanna put this shit off until the spring or something.”
“Naw, Daddy,” Breon said. “I wanna take her down to Gatlinburg for our anniversary, which is right before Christmas, and propose to her then. You know that would be perfect.”
“Yeah, yeah, Mister Romance,” Cap said, snickering as he gulped his beer again. “I understand you, I get it. Man, I mean, just find a way to get in touch with the dude and call him. Maybe the two of you can talk on the phone about it rather than you goin’ up there and shit, but that’s on you. I’mma father, but ain’t got no daughters, so I don’t know what to tell you on that. Well, let me ask you this… You think the nigga like you?”
Breon thought about it for a moment. The few times that he’d met Trina’s father were at his side of the family functions. Sure, he’d had a couple of conversations with the man over the years. However, their talks had never been anything really serious. Furthermore, Trina always seemed to act funny when her father was in the picture. This caused Breon to be a little hesitant to really go into a deep conversation with the man. The last thing he needed was for Trina to be mad at him because she’d felt that he betrayed her in some way, as women loved to think.
“I mean, I guess he do,” Breon said, shrugging his shoulders. “I ain’t never gave him no reason to not like me. The couple times we did meet, he was nice to me and stuff, so I guess we cool. Him and Trina is the ones that’s not cool, because of how his marriage ended with the mother.”
“Uh oh,” Cap said, shaking his head. He was now a little buzzed, even m
ore so than from the beer he’d had when he first got out of bed. “You might wanna stay away from that, boy. Listen to a nigga.” He shook his head again. “She the kinda chick who choose sides and shit, especially for her mama? Son, be careful with that. You sure you wanna marry this chick? I mean, she’s a nice girl, but you can find one that’s a little more agreeable, let’s say.”
Breon laughed and shook his head, seeing that his father’s mind really wasn’t clear. “Yeah, Daddy,” he said. “Yeah, I’m sure. So, you think I should just call the dude. I gotta find a way to get his phone number, though. Ain’t like I got it in my phone or nothin’.”
“Well, I got two ideas on that,” Cap said, rubbing his goatee. “Yeah, two ideas. Is you cool with the mama, boy?”
Breon shrugged. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. “I mean, I know she likes me and stuff. She a nice lady, Daddy.”
“Yeah, they all seem that way,” Cap said. “Well, what I was gon’ say is that you could go to the mama and talk to her about it and see if she got the nigga’s number. If she the kinda woman who can keep her mouth shut, which is rare when it comes to women, then you can ask her what she think about you marryin’ her daughter then get the nigga’s phone number from her. She’ll probably try to say that she ain’t got it. She’d lyin’. If a woman ever tries to squeeze child support out of a nigga, then you know she got his phone number, address, email, or the phone number to his sister or somethin’. Don’t you worry… She can get in touch with that man, somehow. They always do, even if it’s to make his life a living hell.”
Breon nodded, realizing that he hadn’t thought about going through Trina’s mama. That would certainly be easy, since he’d been over to her house plenty or times. And him stopping by to have a “chat” with her would not come across the least bit strange. “Okay, okay,” he said. “Yeah, I could do that.”
“Or, you could do what these chicks do nowadays with every nigga’s phone they come across,” Cap said, his words full of wisdom. “You could go through her phone when she asleep or in the shower or some shit and see if she got her daddy’s phone number saved in there. You know the lock code thing?”
“Yeah, I do,” Breon said. “We don’t keep those kinds of secrets from each other. We got each other’s passwords.”
“Oh God,” Cap said. “Be careful with sharing too much. Little nigga, you brave. At this point in my life, I don’t even wanna share the last of my sandwich with a woman ‘cause she’d just take it all, but that’s another story for another day, I guess. But yeah, those are the two options you got, I guess. You could either talk to the mama or see if she got her daddy’s phone number in her phone.”
Breon spent the next several minutes talking to his father about what was going on with his side of the family. After being thoroughly updated, he decided he better get moving with his day. He needed to make a couple stops, one of which included getting some more Kush as he was down to his last gram. When they finished talking, Cap walked Breon to the door. The two hugged as they said goodbye.
“Let me know how it goes, Son,” Breon said. “But just remember one thing if you don’t remember nothin’ else I tell you: It’s gon’ be all fun and shit going into married, but you will go through hell getting out. Hope it works out for you, I really do. And I ain’t try’na scare you off or nothin’ like that, but this is life. Trust me, nigga. Everything changes after they get that ring. Women be feelin’ like they own a nigga then wondering why they go runnin.”
Breon thought about his father’s words of wisdom as he walked out to his car. Braving the harsh, cold wind, he climbed into his SUV and pulled off as he contemplated how he was going to go about talking to Trina’s father. He knew one thing, though. He was in love with Trina, even if there were moments during the day and night when he lusted for Nikki. He thought about what he would be doing for the rest of his day, and thought that maybe today would be the perfect day to hit Nikki up, especially since Trina would be busy with her family well into the evening.
CHAPTER 8
When Breon left his father’s house, he drove back over into Illinois and stopped at a Family Dollar. He’d been waiting for his weed man, Jerome, to hit him back up and figured that he could go ahead and get the few thing he needed at the apartment. While he walked the aisles of Family Dollar, he couldn’t help but think about Nikki. Since seeing the picture she’d sent to him yesterday when he and Trina were out to eat, he had resisted the urge to look back at the picture. However, while waiting in line to check out, he checked his text messages. What had been an empty moment of just looking through messages quickly changed to Breon looking around then going into his pictures. He looked at Nikki’s ass once more and shook his head, blowing air out of his lips.
After Breon checked out, he sat in his SUV in the parking lot. He didn’t want to get all the way home and see that Jerome hit him back up, especially since Jerome lived closer to where he was at this moment. He chilled in the car until Jerome texted him back about ten minutes later.
Jerome: You still try’na get that smoke?
Breon: Yeah
Jerome: Come thru then. I’m here.
Breon started his car then headed toward Jerome’s neighborhood. While in route, his mind fantasized about what it would be like to give Nikki hard, deep back shots—what it would be like to grip her hips and fuck her senselessly.
No sooner than Breon felt his dick getting hard in his pants, his phone was vibrating. It was Trina calling. He answered. “Wassup, Baby?”
“Hey,” Trina said, sounding rather pleasant. “What you doin’?”
“Shit, on my way over to Jerome’s house to get some smoke,” Breon responded. “I’m out south right now. Just came from my daddy’s house, over in Gary. Was stopping by and having a little visit with him.”
“Oh yeah?” Trina asked. “How is he doin’? Your daddy?”
“Same ole same ole,” Breon responded. “He was tipsy and happy this morning when I got over there. I sat with him and talked for a minute. What you up to?”
“Nothing much at the moment,” Trina responded. “Me, Tamar, and Monique is over at Mama’s house. We actually about to go out to eat. Mama was gonna cook something at first, but then she changed her mind, which is fine with me, ‘cause you know how I feel about my mama’s cooking.”
Breon chuckled. “It’s delicious,” he said, sarcastically. “Simply delicious.”
“Yeah, right,” Trina said, in a way that let Breon know she was on the other end probably rolling her eyes. “If you say so. I’ll make sure to have her cook you somethin’ and I’ll bring it home, just for you.”
“Yeah…” Breon said, smirking. “Right. You make sure you do that.”
Trina quickly went over some of the more entertaining highlights from going to church that morning. She then had to rush off of the phone because they were ready to head out the door and get to a soul food restaurant. “What time you thinkin’ you gon’ be home?” she asked.
Breon looked at the time. “I don’ t know,” he responded. “Probably in a little while. You know how Jerome is. The nigga wanna sell you some weed then smoke it with you and shit and talk on and on. Let’s see how long he holds me today.”
Trina laughed. “Okay,” she said. “Well, I’mma text you in a little bit and let you know when I’m on my way home.”
“Okay,” Breon said.
The two of them ended the call just as Breon was turning into Jerome’s neighborhood. Jerome lived in what many people would call an older housing development. The streets were curvy and the front yards were wide and large. However, as the demographics in the neighborhood had changed over the last decade, it slowly become more brown. And with this, the neighborhood went down in value along with its maintenance.
When Breon pulled up at Jerome’s house, which was a ranch style with a basement that let out on a hill in the back, he called inside. “I’m outside,” he said when Jerome answered the phone.
Jerome told him to come up to th
e front door and that it was already opened. Doing just as he was told, Breon hopped out of his SUV and headed up to the front door. Inside, the smell of strong weed hit him hard. “Damn, nigga,” he said, laughing as he shook Jerome’s hand. “What is you up in here doin’? Using the whole damn house to hot box or some shit like that? Damn, this is a lot of smoke.”
“Nigga, you know how it is,” Jerome said. “Especially on Sunday. Sunday is the Lord’s day and that’s when you really supposed to smoke. I just got up a couple hours ago. Ain’t got nowhere to go, so I figured I’d light a couple blunts up and feel good.”
Breon looked into Jerome’s eyes and knew that he was telling no lie. His eyes were nearly bloodshot red, which was quickly becoming a norm for Jerome. Breon had known Jerome for the last couple years, having met him through Ray when he got into smoking weed himself. Ever since then, Jerome, who was short, dark skinned, and somewhat chubby, always provided Breon with the best quality weed in all of Chicago. To make things even better, the times when they would meet out in a public place, Jerome was rarely late.
“I feel you on that,” Breon said, sitting down on a couch. “So, what’s been up with you lately nigga?”
“Shit, same ole same ole,” Jerome responded. “Fuckin’ big booty bitches every chance I get.” His eyes angled toward his bedroom.
Breon leaned in, over the coffee table that sat between him and Jerome. “You got one here right now?” he asked, speaking softly.
“Hmm, hmm,” Jerome said. “This big ole booty havin’ bitch. Can’t suck dick much, but that ass is fuckin’ ridiculous, nigga. And she stay horny as fuck and wantin’ the dick.”
Breon nodded, looking back toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms and the bathroom. “That’s wassup nigga,” he said, smiling. “I ain’t mad at you.”
“Shit,” Jerome said, realizing that he was about to get lost in conversation. “Let me get that for you and shit before I forget.”
The Wrath of a Side Chick: A Chicago Hood Drama (Side Chick's Wrath Book 1) Page 11
