Daddy Long Stroke (37 page)

I decide to keep some distance between us and sit in the chair 'cross from her. “Yo, I don't think that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Yo, how you gonna tell me what I think?”

“Well, you act like it. And it pisses me the fuck off that you would even come at me like I was. And it pisses me off even more that I've allowed you to make me feel vulnerable and used and
disrespected. I know I can't be mad at you 'cause you told me what it was wit' you from the gate. And you've shown me time and time again who you really are. But I still chose to fuck with you. So I get what I get 'cause I've allowed it…” She pauses, stares at me, throws her head back, fights back tears.

“I can't keep lying to myself. I love you, nigga. I don't know when it happened. But it did. Even though I knew in my head I shoulda kept it moving; that I shoulda never let you in my head, or my heart, 'cause you're no motherfucking good, I still allowed myself to fall head over heels for you anyway. And it hurts knowing that you don't love me back. It hurts knowing that you aren't capable of loving anyone other than yourself…”

Damn, that's the same shit Cherry hit me wit'.
I shift in my seat. She's right. I don't love
her,
I like her. But that doesn't mean I'm not capable of loving someone other than myself.

“…I've tried to act like you fucking other chicks doesn't bother me, but it does. You're the only nigga I'm fucking. I cut e'eryone else off, still knowing you were gonna be plowing ya dick through a buncha bitches. You get at me when you get at me, and my stupid ass sits around waiting for you to toss me the scraps them other hoes leave behind. I'm not blaming you. I blame myself. But the shit still hurts. You told me, warned me, not to get too caught up in you, but I did any-damn-way. And it's gotten way outta hand. I thought I could handle it, but I can't.

“And right now, I need for you to look me in my face and tell me the fuckin' truth. Not the lie you've turned inside-out to become the reality you've created in your fucked-up head. I want the real T-R-U-T-H. That's the only thing I wanna hear. Can you do that?”

I take a deep breath. I'm really not beat for this shit right now. But I created this shit wit' her, and listenin' to her spill her heart
out to me has a muhfucka feelin' some kinda way. If she wants the truth, then I owe it to her. That's the least I can give her, feel me? “You got that,” I say, leanin' forward in my seat, restin' my elbows on my knees.

“Then tell me this. Is anything that nigga Ron said true? Were you in Atlanta fuckin' some crippled-ass bitch on my dime?”

“Hell, no,” I tell her, frownin'. “She was a mid…uh, I mean, little person.”

She blinks, blinks again. Tilts her head as if she's tryna wrap her mind 'round what I've said. “
A little person,”
she repeats in disbelief, “like in
midget
?”

I nod. “Yeah, sumthin' like that.”

“Wait. Wait one goddamn minute! You fucking dissed me to stick ya dick up in some midget?!” She stares at me in disbelief. “OhmyfuckingGod, pleeeeeeease tell me you're joking. You're actually telling me you fucking looked me in my face and lied about having a dying grandmother, so you could get out to Atlanta to FUCK some goddamn dwarf bitch?!”

I run my hands over my face, then cup the back of my head. “Yeah, I mean, no.” She tilts her head, raises her eyebrow. “Yeah, I lied about my grandmother bein' sick. But chick lied to me. I didn't know she was a half-pint 'til I got there.”

“And that's supposed to make the shit better? Nigga, puhleeze! That's exaaaactly what ya lying, sneaky ass gets,” she says through clenched teeth. “I'm sooooooo fucking pissed right now. OhmyGod, I don't believe this shit. I really hoped what the nigga was talking was a buncha shit.” She stares at me, shakes her head. “You know what? I can't even be mad at you 'cause you were only being who you are. I knew from the jump you were a dog, so I don't know what I was thinking. Niggas like you don't change 'cause you don't ever think what you're doing is wrong. And
because there's bitches like me who'll keep allowing you to do the shit you do, you'll always do what you do. We always want what we can't have. And I know for a fact I will never have you. No one will. 'Cause ya black ass is too goddamn selfish!”

She breaks down and starts that cryin' shit. A part of me wants to tell her to shut the fuck up wit' all that noise; to go wipe her snotty-ass nose; to get the fuck out 'cause I told her so, but… another part of me, is feelin' kinda bad for her. Then again, why the fuck should I? She brought this shit on herself.

I get up from my seat and excuse myself while I go upstairs. A few minutes later, I come back down. She's still crying, but not howlin' like a damn wounded hyena. I hand her five bills. “Yo, here's ya money back.”

Instead of her takin' the shit, she stares at my hand, then fuckin' snaps, jumpin' up swingin' off on a nigga, like she's possessed. “Nigga, I don't give a fuck about that money. You fuckin' tried to be on some slick shit. You think handin' me that paper's gonna change shit?”

“Yo, hol' up,” I say, grabbin' her by the wrists.

“Get the fuck off me!” She yanks her arms, but I gotta tight grip on 'em. “Why the fuck you have to lie to me, huh, nigga? Why the fuck did you have to fucking play me?” She starts tryna kick me. We wrestle a bit 'til I get her in a bear hug. I'm really tryna keep from swingin' her ass into a wall, then straight smashin' her chin, but she's not makin' it easy for me. The whole time I'm wrestlin' wit' her ass, I'm glad Pops ain't here. And I'm hopin' like hell he doesn't walk in on this shit.

“Yo, c'mon, baby, you wildin' out, for real.”

“C'mon, hell, nigga. Don't fucking ‘baby' me. Get ya fucking hands off me!” She starts tryna kick my shins, and stomp down on my feet. The bitch has me shufflin' 'round tryna keep her from diggin' her six-inch heels in me. I swear I don't need this shit right
now. I squeeze her tighter. Flip her ass onto the sofa, knockin' shit over. I pin her down. She's still cursin' and screamin' and tryna wriggle herself free. She's straight beastin'. And I've never seen her like this. Wild and muthafuckin' crazy. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Not until you calm down,” I say, pressin' my forearm into her neck.

“You're…choking…me…”

“Then stop tryna fight me. I don't wanna fight wit' you. I understand you're mad. But I'm not 'bout to apologize for you gettin' all caught up in ya feelin's.”

“Fuck you! Get the fuck off of me!”

“You need to calm down first, for real.” After 'bout ten more minutes of her thrashin' around, she finally stops movin'. I slowly let up on my grip, takin' my forearm from offa her neck. “You calm?”

“Get…off…of…ME.” My gut tells me to keep her ass pinned down a lil' longer, but I don't listen to it. I let her go, and as soon as I do, she jumps up and starts hookin' off. “I hate you, you black motherfucker!” She hits me in the mouth, bustin' my lip. I try to grab her. She swings again. I block her blow. Grab her by the arm, and twist it behind her back. I don't wanna hit her. I swear I don't. But I'm startin' to think I'ma haveta knock her the fuck out, or break her goddamn arm to calm her ass down. I grab her tighter. And this bitch bites my arm. She grinds her teeth into my skin. Now she has me hollerin' and screamin' like a lil' bitch.

“Yo, what the fuck! Owww…get the fuck off…. Fuck!” I try to pry her off of my arm before she bites a chunk of my arm off. And, before I know what's come over me, I punch the bitch in her damn head. One, two, three quick blows to her dome before she finally lets go of my arm. I grab it. She grabs her head. Blood is comin' from my mouth and arm. “Fuck!”

“OhmyGod,” she says, holdin' both sides of her head. “I can't
fucking believe you punched me in my head like that. OhmyfuckingGod, you fucker! I got a big-ass knot in my head.”

This ho put her hands on me,
first
. Then sunk her muthafuckin' fangs in me, busted my lip, and got me comin' outta pocket. “Bitch, you damn straight I lumped ya ass up. What you did wasn't cool, at all. Puttin' ya muthafuckin' hands on me. And right now I feel like hittin' ya ass, again. Dead in the center of your muthafuckin' forehead. So you best get ya shit, and get the fuck out before I break your muthafuckin' jaw.”

I'm pacin' the room, practically foamin' out the mouth. I literally feel myself 'bout to black on her ass. Her eyes bulge. I can tell I'm scarin' her. Good! She's crossed the muthafuckin' line, feel me? I have never put my hands on a broad, but you got the game fucked up, if you think I'ma ever sit back and let a bitch hook off on me and shit's gonna be sweet. I ain't that nigga! And all I know is if she doesn't bounce the fuck up outta here in less than ten seconds, I'ma forget my vow to never put my hands on a female, and beat this bitch the fuck up tonight, word up!

 31 

“What happened to your lip?” Moms asks the minute I step through the door. It's still swollen from that shit wit' Akina the other night. I know Pops already told her how he walked in and found the livin' room all tossed up and Akina lookin' all wild-eyed, yellin' and screamin', runnin' outta the front door, holdin' the side of her head, almost knockin' him over. And there I was standing there with blood dripping from my arm and lip. He straight blacked on me.

“Nigga, I fuckin' told you I didn't want this motherfucking shit up in my house. I warned your black ass some bullshit like this was gonna happen. But you wanted to keep bringing these unstable broads up in here, disrespecting my goddamn house. But I tell you what. You done fucked ya last piece of ass up in here!”

“My bad,” I said, pickin' pillow cushions from off the floor and puttin' them back on the sofa. Yeah, I know it was some weak shit. But what else could I say? He was right. I fucked up. I swear, I never seen dude go off the way he did walkin' up in that piece seein' his coffee table knocked over, the sofa cushions all over, pictures on the wall crooked. E'erything was outta place.

“
My bad?
Nigga, are you fucking crazy? My bad? That's all you gotta…” He stopped in midsentence, opened and closed his right fist. On some real shit, I know he wanted to swing off, but he didn't. And he woulda had a right to. But on some real shit, I don't know if I coulda stood there and let him straight duke me wit'out goin'
in on 'im, Pops or not. He bit his bottom lip, shook his head. “Leave e'eryting where it is. Get your shit…and get the fuck out before I forget you're my son, and fuck you the hell up.”

“It's nuthin',” I tell her, kissin' her on the check. “I got into a lil' scuffle wit' a disgruntled customer.”

She smirks. “Uh-huh, ‘disgruntled customer,' my ass.” She shakes her head. “You don't have to lie to me. You
know
I already know.”

“I know, so why'd you ask?”

“Just to see what you were gonna say. And I heard ya father finally put your ass out, too.”

And leave ya fucking key on the table when you leave 'cause you are no longer welcomed to come in and outta here.
I couldn't be mad at 'im, though. Bottom line, it's his crib. And I disrespected his space.

She shakes her head. “I told him it was only a matter of time before you brought that mess up in there, but he didn't wanna listen to me. The best thing he coulda did was take his house keys from you. He shoulda did it a long time ago. Instead of complaining to me about all that fucking you had going on up in there, he shoulda been talking to you about it. I told him ya ass was too damn old to be still laying up over there,
and
not paying bills. Mmmph. I love you dearly, but ya ass is a magnet for drama. And this is only the beginning. I've tried to warn you to stop fucking over all those women. But ya ass is hard-headed. Lord only knows what else is about to go down. But whatever it is, I know it ain't gonna be pretty 'cause you done fucked over too many women. I hate to say it, but you are worse than your father ever was.”