Secrets of a Side Bitch 2 (9 page)

“Bitch.”

I groaned under my breath as I
rode the Red Line to Ninety-Fifth Street. From there, I would take the bus to Riverdale to meet up with Capone at the new spot.

The possibility of getting money should have had me in a happier place, but
it had been nearly a month since the last time I’d seen or talked to Simone. Though she promised that she would take care of things, she was ghost, just like I thought. She wasn’t answering my text messages, and she was straight sending me to voicemail when I called.

I still had a few dollars, but just in case things didn
’t work out with Capone, I needed her to do something. I was in this predicament because of her. I could have been in transitional housing living scott-free for three more years. They would have even helped me find a job.

I liked fucking Gia, but I
especially fucked her to keep a warm roof over my head and hot meals. But no woman wants a guy laying up in her house sucking in her heat and watching her cable without contributing. Luckily, Gia was a down chick that knew my struggles, so she wasn’t judging me. She was just having fun and enjoying the dick.

Because of this conniving bitch,
Simone, I was homeless and broke while she rode clean and ate good. That shit was really starting to piss me off. Even though for months I’d figured that Simone played me, the fact that I’d murdered someone for this bitch and she didn’t even think enough of me to answer the fucking phone was really starting to fuck with me.

During the rest of the train and bus ride
s, I blew up Simone’s cell a couple more times. I started to wonder who I killed. I wondered if she was a nice girl; as innocent as I was in Simone’s ploys. But I had to make myself stop thinking about it because it was literally making me sick with headache and a messed up stomach.

I tried to push those thoughts to the back of my mind as I reached th
e block that the new trap house was on in Riverdale on 147th and Peoria.

Just
like Capone said, his partner’s red Challenger was sitting outside. That motherfucker looked nice. On the phone, Capone told me how he and his boy basically started from nothing and now had two blocks. I only hoped that I could have such luck. But, in the mean time, pocketing three hundred dollars off of every quarter I put in the streets during my shift was good enough for now. I was so hungry for bread that I was willing to do whatever it took to sell water to a fish, so I could easily push one or two quarters a day if the drought in this area was as serious as Capone claimed.

Still in all, no matter the possibility of money that was approaching and no matter the possibility of pussy that was waiting on me when I got to Gia
’s later on that night, thoughts of Simone were still consuming me. I couldn’t shake this eerie feeling that was over me because of her.

I felt stupid.

I felt played.

After ringing the doorbell, a tall dude with locs opened the door. Instantly, I assumed that he was some pretty boy. I had never seen a black person with gray eyes. Instantly, I assumed that I was at the wrong crib.

That is, until he said, “Whad up? You Chance?”

“Yea,” I answered cautiously.

“I’m Omari, bro. C’mon on in.”

As I followed him into the house, I realized that this was the dude Capone was telling me about
; his partner. I looked around the house and was real suspect. It definitely didn’t look like a trap house. As a matter of fact, it was nice as hell and looked like a family was staying there.

I even
peeped a baby’s room.

Something was eerily familiar about the air in that house. It was the smell. For some reason, the smell in that house put me in the mind of something familiar.
But at the time, I had too much shit on my mind to really try to put my finger on it. What I needed to focus on was this money. I pushed everything to the back of my mind, even Simone, and sat at the kitchen table with Omari where Capone was rolling a blunt and telling me the ins and outs of this new operation that would make them richer and me less poor.

After almost a month of fucking with Chance, I had feelings towards him that I hadn’t had towards a man since I was in high school.

As he lay on top of me giving me the best missionary ever, that
’s exactly how I felt; like I was back in high school. I had butterflies in my stomach when I thought about his sexy ass during the day. I reread our text message conversations like a lame.

I had a soft spot in my heart for men that I never had before. I wasn
’t in love or anything, but I was definitely in lust. I liked him. We kicked it well together. I trusted him, when I had never trusted a man in my life. We were real with each other. He was so open with who he was. Any other guy would have lied about being broke, homeless, and carless. His honesty made me feel like I can trust him and trust him with me.

“Argh!
Shit!” Chance began to let out deep moans as his rhythm became faster and more consistent.

He was cumming.

I encouraged him. “C’mon on, baby.”

“Oh shit.”

“That’s it, baby.”

“Aaaaaargh!”
Chance squeezed my waist and put all of his body weight on me as he enjoyed his release. I rubbed his back, my hands drenched in his sweat, as he cursed under his short and heavy breaths.

“Damn, girl,” he said as he rolled over on his back. His dick was now only semi-erect with his nut dangling at the tip of the Magnum.

Through heavy breaths of my own, I asked, “You put the chain on the door?”

He burst out laughing, and even I had to
giggle.

“Hell, I wanna know. I
’m serious.”

“Why? Scared your
boyfriend
is going to come back?”

Again, I was laughing, “Whatever, Chance.”

“You almost got me beat up,” he said poking his lip out.

“Yea right.”

After Rae left that night, I had a lot of explaining to do. Though Chance and I had been real with each other, I had never explained to him that the ex, that I spoke of so frequently, was a woman. He admitted that he noticed the pictures in my bedroom and was just waiting on me to explain.

Even when I thought that stunt Rae pulled would
have scared him away, it hadn’t. He laughed his ass off. He thought it was hilarious that this woman was head over heels for me. He couldn’t fathom the idea of two people of the same sex having such issues. I laughed it off as well, because I knew it would be hard for him to understand.

Eventually, Chance got out of the bed and went towards the
wastebasket. As he removed the condom, he told me, “Yea, I put the chain on, scary ass.”

“Whatever.”

As Chance climbed back into bed and lay next to me, he suddenly got serious.

“Look. I won
’t be around as much anymore.”

“Why? You got a wife you never told me about?”

He kissed my cheek as he spooned with me. “Hell naw. You’re my wife.”
Surprisingly, that didn’t make me flinch. My insides curled up into a girlish smile, and I laughed at the butterflies that flew around in my stomach.

“But real talk though. I hooked up with one of my dudes from high school.
He wants me to serve out of one of his spots. It’s a new spot, so I’ll be putting in a lot of work. But you got me during any free time I have.”

Though he was using a lot of street talk to explain himself, I knew that that meant he was serving. I had no issues with that because, shit, I was
a stripper. I knew the pains of having to get down how you lived to make some money. But I wasn’t ready to deal with the petty issues that came with fucking with a man, so I definitely wasn’t ready to deal with the major issues that came with fucking with a nigga in the dope game.

Yet, the possibilities of having a man with drug money sounded beautiful to my closet.

Drug money; a gift and a curse.

I had been serving for two weeks. It was a new spot, so product moved slowly at first. But Capone and Omari were right about it being a drought. Once the fiends smelled the heroine in the air and the party boys tasted the loud and molly, the block was jumping.

I
was posted on the block like a mailbox. I didn’t care how cold it was; I stood outside all day and at all hours of the night serving every crack head, every street nigga, and every white boy. Capone bounced between the spots collecting money and watching the bitch in the kitchen cutting down bricks like a scientist. She was some white hype by the name of Paula that stayed cooking in that kitchen as long as she was able to cuff an eight ball of heroin in exchange for the work every night.

I barely saw Omari. He stayed
low key. He was a private dude. When I would ask Capone about him, Capone was always mum’s the word. He only said that, after a situation a few months ago, Omari was hush-hush about the details of his personal life.  Only certain people were privy to that information; basically, only Capone.

That was cool with me. I didn
’t have to know anything about Omari. We didn’t have to be cool, and we didn’t have to be friends; as long as he let me get this money.

Finally
the motel was no longer my home. If I wasn’t at the spot, I was at Gia’s crib fucking her brains out.

After serving two
crack heads a couple bags of heroin, I checked my cell for the umpth-teenth time. Every time I checked it and saw that Simone still saw fit to ignore my calls and text messages, I got madder and madder. Despite the twenty-five degree day, my face was hot with rage at the audacity of this bitch. For all she knew, I was living on the streets with not a dollar to my name, and she didn’t even care enough to call and even act like she gave a fuck.

I was just calling her at this point to prove a point. I forced back that
appalling feeling that being played gave me and kept working. Luckily, I didn’t even need that bitch anymore. The way that I was hustling, I was pocketing four to five hundred dollars a day. That weekend, I was copping a used whip. Capone knew a guy selling a 2001 Chevy for two grand. It probably would barely make it to Riverdale, but it was better than that cold ass bus.

All in all
, things were finally looking up.

Erica
’s name continuously flashed on Omari’s cell phone while he was in the shower. My first thought was to answer, but it was better to just ignore her call.

Then, I erased the call from the call log all together.

Fuck that bitch.

After I told Omari what I heard Tre saying at their house that day, he wasn
’t fucking with them anymore. That is exactly what I wanted when I told him that lie. Fuck Tre. I’ll be damned if I have to sit around him and that bitch amongst their happily ever after with him looking down on me.

I continued getting dressed for dinner. I stood
before the full length mirror staring at my new hips and ass as I slipped on a pair of leggings that would look great with the knee high boots that I had just bought from Nordstrom’s. I hated to have to ruin such a perfect body with a baby, but I had to do what I had to do. Fortunately, I had another four or five months before I actually was supposed to look pregnant.

“What you got a taste for, babe?”

Omari caught me off guard as he walked into the bedroom wearing nothing but droplets of water and a towel.

Gawd damn, he was fine. It was amazing how he still managed to stay in the gym while building business with Capone. He was most of the reason why I was also in shape. We often went to the gym t
ogether.

I naturally gravitated towards him. I took the
bottle of Vaseline Gel from the dresser as I walked by. Once in front of Omari, I gently pushed him down on the bed. He smiled bashfully as I laid him down on his stomach and removed the towel.

I dried his body submissively.
Then I took the Vaseline Gel and began to moisturize his skin,

“I
’m craving pizza,” I finally answered. “I’ve been craving pizza like crazy.”

I wanted him to smile and say something sweet about our baby, but he didn
’t. I shook off the regret and continued to rub the oil into his gorgeous dark skin while wondering if this beautiful specimen of man had any idea the lengths I took and was willing to take just to wake up next to him every day.

Dahlia
’s cries broke the love that my hands were making to Omari’s body. Without hesitation, he moved so fast that he nearly knocked me off of the bed. He left out of the room like lightning.

When I once thought it was never possible to be jealous of someone that couldn
’t even wipe their own ass, I was jealous of Dahlia. He was obsessed with that damn girl in the way that I wished he would obsess after me.

Twenty minutes later, Omari and I were fully dressed and waiting for Tiana so that we could go
to dinner. At first, Omari insisted that we bring Dahlia. I convinced him that a loud restaurant was not a good place for a four month old. So, just as I thought he would, he called Tiana over to watch her for a couple of hours.

“Why don
’t you wait for Tiana and then meet me at Beggars? I can stop at the spot real quick in the meantime.”

Like a good little girl, I said okay and waited for Tiana who arrived no more than five minutes after Omari pulled off.

“I’m so sorry,” Tiana apologized as she came through the door looking cute and smelling good.

“Going somewhere?” I looked her up and down with a fake smile as we stood at the front door. My Michael Kors bag was hanging on my
arm and my keys were in my hand.

“No,” she answered. She tried to appear innocent but I saw right through that shit.

“Yea okay,” I said short and dry.

“Is Dahlia sleep?”

“Yea,” I groaned. “For now. But you know her crying ass gone wake up any second now.”

Tiana walked into the house shaking her
head and laughing. “You been so mean since you got knocked up. Is that pregnancy hormones?”

I lingered by the front door until Tiana disappeared into the living room.

“Whatever,” I said with a fake laugh as I peeked down the hall to ensure that she had disappeared into the living room.

Before leaving out of the house, I
double checked the patio door and ADT system.

“I
’m gone, Tiana!”

“Bye, Ms. Simone!”