“I lo—ve y-o—ou,” she stammered.
“I know.”
After fucking the shit out of Camarih and putting her ass to sleep, I showered then went back to the studio.
I meant everything I said to her ass. No muthafuckin way was another nigga about to be fucking my baby mama and the only bitch I’ve ever loved, and live to tell about the shit.
Camarih and I were either gon’ do shit the easy way or the deadly way.
A few days later…
The studio was packed as we listened to Eitan’s new record play back. The shit sounded good as fuck, and finally, a nigga was happy about something he’d recorded other than the track that had gotten onto radio.
“Sound good, cuz.” I slapped hands with him as he sat next to me at the mixer.
Per usual, there were a few hoes outside of the homies, and everybody was drinking a little bit and smoking. Pulling my iPhone out, I checked Camarih’s Instagram to see what her ass had been up to. Yeah, she still lived in my crib, but we didn’t say shit to one another. Had she not been pregnant and had miscarriages in the past, I would be all up in her shit, not giving a fuck about how mad she was about it. But for now, I was gon’ let her ass be.
Shit was crazy because I never even thought nor gave a fuck about Joy when she was pregnant. If the baby came, then yeah, I’d do my part, but my feelings toward Joy’s ass would never fucking change. With Camarih though, the shit was way fucking different. Her having my baby had a nigga feeling some type of way. Had me thinking a little bit more before I did shit, because I wanted to be here for it… and her stupid ass.
“Wacko, you should work with my homegirl.” This one bitch named Kells pointed to some hoe standing next to her. She was thick, light skinned as hell, with some braid like shits in her hair.
“Oh word?” I leaned back in my chair as everyone looked her way.
“Yes. Nala, sing for him.”
Nala stared me down nervously as I waited to hear her sing after turning the music playing down some.
“Fuck you staring at me for? You gon’ blow or what?” I questioned, already irritated. I couldn’t stand shy females, not in life and definitely not in the muthafuckin bedroom.
“Wacko, don’t scare her off.” Rahim laughed.
“If she scared, I ain’t the nigga to work with.”
“Can everyone leave the room? I do better with either one person or a whole crowd, but not just like ten or fifteen people,” Nala finally spoke up. She was a pretty bitch but nothing like Camarih. Maybe I was biased, but no female was as fine as Camarih’s little ugly, pregnant, mean ass.
I nodded for everybody to leave, and once it was just her and I, I said, “This shit better be good. If you got me kicking everybody out for some weak ass vocals, I’m gon’ have the homegirls from the hood beat yo’ ass.”
I was dead ass.
Chuckling as if I were joking, Nala came to stand in front of me and then began singing. I didn’t know the song, but she sounded good as hell.
“When I—”
“That’s enough. Sit down,” I told her, cutting off the ballad she was crooning.
“Did you like it?”
I lit the blunt in my hand and then sat back, eyeing her as I smoked on it.
“You cool. You gon’ need some lessons though.”
“I know. I’m actually taking some now to perfect my craft.”
“Keep doing that. I want you to come back to the studio next week to do a hook for my homie, and depending on how that go, we can move forward. Won’t be no contracts until I feel like you can make me some bread.”
“Sounds fair.” She got quiet. “I’ve always wanted to meet you.”
“For what?”
“Just seen you a lot around South Central but from afar. And I thought you were so fine… I still do.”
“Oh, so you trying to get fucked?”
She was caught off guard, but I lifted my brows to let her know I was serious and awaiting a fucking answer.
“I mean… or more.”
“More?” I laughed. “Nah, it’ll never be more.” I shook my head as I inhaled on the blunt.
She got down on her knees and started to loosen my belt buckle, so I let her. I didn’t know where her mouth had been, so I pulled a condom from my pocket and made her put it on me. Bitch looked excited to be on her knees, preparing to suck me off.
I continued smoking as she got to work, gripping her hair some to guide her a little faster. Her gag reflexes were on zero, so I took advantage, fucking her cute ass face until I was on edge.
Yeah, I only wanted Camarih, but like I told her ass, I wasn’t gon’ stop fucking other hoes just because she wanted me to, while also not wanting to fuck with me either. I wasn’t into that gray area bullshit. Either Camarih was my girl or I was single. She would always be my bitch though at the end of the day.
“You’re so fine.” She spoke when I pulled my dick out of her mouth. Her chin was covered in saliva, my favorite sight.
“Take the condom off and finish it. Don’t use ya mouth, bitch. I don’t know you.” I blew out smoke, watching her jack my shit just before I nutted. She let it hit her face and around her mouth, making me smirk.
Ashing the blunt, I got up and went to clean myself in the new bathroom within the studio room before bringing a wet paper towel and a dry one back for her.
“Thank you.” She wiped her face. “I’m gonna love working with you.” She ran one of her hands up my leg, but I stopped it.
“If I want some head occasionally, I may hit you, but don’t expect shit else. I’m not gon’ be yo’ nigga or none of that shit. We never gon’ be on some us type shit, you got me? Ever.” I saw the sadness in her face, but I truly ain’t give a fuck. “Do you got me?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And if you try to start any bullshit with me and my girl, I’m gon’ slap you the fuck up. If you try to act possessive of a nigga, I’m gon’ slap you the fuck up. If you do anything other than sing on these fucking songs, make me some cash, and suck me off when I want, I’m gon’ slap you the fuck up. And a nigga won’t think twice beforehand.”
“I know. I heard about you.”
“Go tell them niggas to come back in. Then go home and brush ya teeth.”
Nala nodded before giving me a smile and then going to do what the fuck I said.
Camarih
Almost two days later…
I was fuming, seeing that some girl had commented on Tony’s photo saying she’d be at Eitan’s show. He replied to her with ‘thx’ and I was furious, making me text him with a screenshot.
Me: A new hoe?
Mine: I barely know that bitch. All I said was thx…
Me: You never reply now you’re telling bitches thanks. I bet you fucked her.
Mine: Nah I fucked you, and now I’m yo’ baby daddy so you stuck with a nigga FOREVER. You ain’t gon’ never have a man ‘cause I’m gon’ kill him.
Somehow, he knew that would piss me off, so I just locked my phone, shoving it down into my purse.
Rubie and I agreed to meet at the mall so we could look for outfits to wear to the showcase. I was pregnant, but I still wanted to look cute, especially because Tony would be there. I knew I was supposed to be off him, but it would take time. For now, I was still in love and wanted to look sexy when he saw me so he’d be sad about us breaking up.
“I don’t see anything here. All the maternity stuff is ugly and for old granny pregnant women.” I frowned, shoving the dress in my hand back on the rack as Rubie laughed.
“Well, you said you didn’t want to spend a lot. Tony didn’t wanna buy you anything? He makes a nice amount of money from the looks of things.”
“He’s not the flossy type.” I let my eyebrows dip, confused by her statement. Yeah, I’d given her a one-hundred-dollar bill from him, but having one hundred dollars did not mean someone made a nice amount of money.
“No, he’s not.” She looked through some of the dresses for normal people. “
But I can tell from looking at his page and the little things like his jewelry and a few items he wears. You know the flossiest people be the brokest. So since he’s not, it means he got money.”
“Yeah, so true.” I giggled.
Prince always wore the most jewelry, designer brands, and luxury cars he could get his hands on. However, he was spending advance money, money Stallion had given him, expecting it to be paid back once Prince made money from his career.
I never thought anything of it until I mentioned it to Tony, and he explained that when niggas didn’t make enough to cover that advance, they would either never be able to make music again due to being stuck in that contract debt, or they continued to make music but would be virtually broke because any new money made was going right back to that label to pay them back.
He told me a lot of rappers and singers were broke as hell, and most of the stuff they flossed in was rented, borrowed, or on occasions, gifted to them for free.
I smiled, thinking about how smart he was. Oddly as it sounded, it gave me a safe feeling dating a man with that type of intelligence. I guess because it made me trust him. I didn’t have to worry about losing our home out of the blue or the lights getting cut off; I knew Tony would handle business. Still, I was off him and his freaky-deaky sister at the moment.
“Excuse me, beautiful.” A tall man with nice chestnut skin, shiny curls on his head, and wearing Gucci everything approached.
“Yes?” I asked as Rubie and I both stared up at him.
“I don’t mean to bother y’all, but I was wondering if I could get your number.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “I’m Dime. You?”
“Camarih, and no, I don’t think so.” I shook my head, eyes darting around the store to be sure Tony wasn’t around.
“Please? It’s my birthday, and I don’t wanna go home knowing I didn’t get a pretty ass girl’s number.” He smiled, showing his bottom grill, which made me giggle. What a loser.
“Wow.” I huffed.
“Dime you said? You rap, right?” Rubie squinted her eyes while pointing.
“I do. You heard my songs?” He nibbled on his bottom lip.
“I have; they’re pretty good. I ran across them on YouTube.” Rubie nodded.
“Thanks, beautiful.” He put his hands in prayer mode at Rubie. “You heard them?” he asked me.
“No. I’m sorry. But Happy Birthday.”
“Come on. Let me get that number.” He dug through his pocket for his iPhone.
“I can’t.”
“Aight, damn. Well at least come to my party tonight. If you have a good time, then let me get that number.” He handed me a glossy postcard from his back pocket. “It’s gon’ be fun as hell. That’s the least you can do, is let me have a pretty girl at my party. You too.” He nodded to Rubie.
“I will see.” I gave him a closed mouth smile.
He stared me down with a smile before licking his nice lips and shaking his head in awe. I had on one of my off the shoulder maxi dresses that concealed my bump, thankfully. Tony hated them and had now nicknamed them hoe dresses.
“Your man will flip if you go.” Rubie grinned as soon as Dime walked away.
“I don’t have a man anymore.”
“Really? Then let’s go! I need to get out and not have it be associated with work.”
“No, because then Dime’s gonna expect something, and it’s not gonna happen.”
“So. Let him expect all he wants. We can have our fun, then you can tell his ass ‘no thanks’ before we bounce.”
I pondered for a little bit. Yeah, I was gonna go to show Tony he didn’t run shit. I may have been pregnant, and he may have been crazy as hell, but I was about to hit the club and flirt.
“Okay, but I’m gonna need your help, because we have to be strategic.”
“I got you, girl!” Rubie put her arm around me as we laughed.
Later that night…
Tony was at the studio putting in work, or at least that’s where I assumed he was. He was always working, but he could’ve been doing his other job. Because we were broken up, I didn’t know his whereabouts like usual. But hell, I didn’t care. I was just elated that he was out of the house.
I looked myself over in the mirror, loving the nice slinky orange dress I’d gotten from Nordstrom, with my favorite gold sandal stilettos. I found the dress earlier and realized this style of dress hugged me in all the right places, and didn’t hug me in all the right places, aka my stomach. I would be sure to find another in a different color for the showcase.
I let my curly blonde locks hang down and kept my makeup light, but my lipstick bold in red. Once I had on my jewelry, including my gifted Rolex, I checked my phone to see Rubie had texted that she was outside. I quickly left to meet her.
“You smell good!” Rubie pulled off as I buckled up.
“Viktor&Rolf. You look pretty.”
“Thanks. You too.”
Rubie and I jammed to some music until we got to the venue in Hermosa Beach, and I saw it was pretty small. The size from the outside was equal to a single-family home. I could even hear the music bumping as we parked.
Rubie and I walked right up to the front where there were two small white guys as security. I wasn’t used to this, especially after the clubs I’d gone to with Tony. The security was more intact, and the venues were humungous.
“Hello, umm, is this a private event for Dime?” I inquired. I could see past them and it was definitely a small place with booth tables along the sides of the walls.
“It is. It’s thirty dollars for ladies,” one of the men replied.
“Oh well, no thank you.” I turned around.
“Wait. Nah, they’re good.” Dime rushed over, reaching for my hand.
I took it and then grabbed Rubie’s as we walked through to wherever he was leading us.
“My Type” by Saweetie was currently playing, so once we got to the booth that belonged to Dime, Rubie and I began to dance a little bit as we rapped along.
Even though small, it was pretty lit in here, with lights flashing around as people who had to stand danced wildly with one another. Every booth in here was full, and taken too.
As I danced, I felt Dime get behind me, so I promptly moved out of the way. He covered his chest as if he were heartbroken when we made eye contact. I was angry at myself because I was supposed to be in here flirting and everything else, yet it felt wrong.
When the song was over, Rubie and I sat down, and she made us a drink. I held onto mine, not wanting to raise any suspicions.
“I’m happy as hell you came. You look even better than earlier, which I didn’t know was possible.” Dime licked his lips.
“Thank you.” I half smiled.
As he talked, I glanced around, and my heart dropped for a second when I thought I saw Tony.
“You okay?” Dime inquired when I stretched my neck to look deeper, but the figure was gone. That shit was scary.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” I checked once more but just saw a group of random people. “Did you see Tony?” I whispered to Rubie who shook her head ‘no’ as she bounced in her seat to “Press” by Cardi B.
Dime continued talking to me, telling me how pretty I was and begging me for my number. He didn’t pass up the chance to floss on me, telling me how any woman of his would get the world and how I would want for nothing. It was a major turnoff. I hated men who did the most to impress me, especially with money. Not like I wanted Dime, but I might have kept him in my back pocket just in case, had he made a good impression tonight.
“This watch right here cost me eighty thousand. I wanna get you one just like it, but only if you prove to be down for me.” Dime stuck his arm out, letting the diamonds dance. The few hoes over here were drooling, but I just smiled subtly, unfazed.
As I looked up from his watch, and just as Dime touched my bare knee, I locked eyes with Tony.
“Oh shit!” I jumped, heart almost leaping from my chest. His tall ass looked scary as f
uck in an all-black hoodie, the matching cotton sweats, socks, and corduroy slippers like a true hood nigga.
He was across the room, watching me with a menacing look that had my heart thumping loudly in my ears. The club was dark, making it even more eerie.
“Yo, you aight?” Dime looked confused because I’d jumped and screamed, just as Rubie returned from the bathroom.
I was frozen, and when my phone buzzed, I saw Tony had texted me. I was scared to open it, but I did.
Mine: Move.
Grabbing Rubie, I yanked her up out of the booth seat and off to the side just in time.
POP! POP! POP!
“Ahhhh!” everyone in the small club seemed to holler out at the top of their lungs.
The disco ball above Dime’s section collapsed down onto the table, crushing all the bottles and glasses after Tony shot it down. The people in Dime’s booth had crawled up onto the couch in fear, as Rubie and I locked arms off to the side.
“Don’t let me ruin the party. Turn that shit back on!” Tony barked to the deejay who did just that.
“Girl, he is crazy!” Rubie laughed lowly to me.
“Who the fuck invited my girl to this party?” Tony quizzed, gun visible as hell so no one wanted to answer. “Who!” He shot again at the wall, right past Dime’s head, making him scream like a girl as Tony stared him down.
Again, everyone shouted. I glanced at the door, and the faux security had left us all to fend for ourselves. Shoddy asses.
“Look, Wacko, I didn’t know she was your girl. She—ah!”
WHAP!
Before he could finish, Tony had slapped the hell out of Dime, making him screech so loudly I thought it was a girl he’d hit. People were clamoring about in shock; shit, me too, because that slap was vicious. And Dime was too big to be hollering like a thirteen-year-old little girl.
“Fuck you talking ’bout ‘look Wacko’ like you putting me in my fucking place, bitch?” Tony hissed. He thought everything was an insult.
Dime was about just as big as him but had way less gall.
Looking confused after being slapped the shit out of, Dime replied, “My nigga, I ain’t mean it like—”
She Gave Her All to the Hood’s Finest 2 Page 3
