“This job shit,” I lie, “has me ’bout ready to snap on a muhfucka. A nigga can’t seem to get a break. I been out beatin’ the pavement puttin’ in mad applications, and these muhfuckas ain’t bitin’. And the ones who are ain’t tryna pay a nigga shit. Or, as soon as they know I gotta record, they get on some other shit, like ‘we’ll get back to you,’ knowin’ damn well they gonna toss my app in the trash. Baby, I’m tellin’ you, it’s real hard out here for a muhfucka wit’ a record.”
“A record?” she asks, soundin’ surprised. “What kind of record?”
“Five years,” I tell her. I figure since I’m already on a roll with the lies, I might as well stretch the shit out as far as it can go.
“Five years? Wow. How long have you been out?”
“I’ve been home for three years, and been off parole for two. I swear, baby, I don’t wanna go back to the streets. But these muhfuckas gonna have a nigga hittin’ up the block, if sumthin’ doesn’t pop off soon.”
“You gotta be patient, and not give up,” she offers. “You gotta keep the faith, and know something greater is coming to you. Selling drugs is only a temporary fix. Sure, it’ll put fast money in your pockets, but what happens if you get locked up again?”
I roll my eyes up in my head. I know she means well, but I don’t need no preachy-ass ho tryna give me no sermon. The only thing I wanna hear is how much money she’s gonna peel off to a muhfucka.
“Well, I say,” sighin’, “at this point, I’ll take my chances. A nigga needs some paper in his pockets, you smell me? It’s got me feelin’ low ’n shit. That’s why I haven’t called you…” I pause, smilin’, givin’ her biscuit-head time to sort out what I’ve told her. I decide to go in for the kill. “…You got my head all fucked up, baby. I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout you, and missin’ you, and wantin’ to see you ’n shit. I wanna hold you in my arms real bad, but a nigga can’t even afford to buy a muthafuckin’ plane ticket. That’s how broke I am. And it’s got my head all fucked up right now.”
“OhmyGod, for reeeeeeaaaaaal? You don’t know how that makes me feel. I wanna see you, too. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you. All I’ve been doing is thinking about you, and how much I enjoyed being with you. The last thing you need to do is be thinking about selling drugs again. Why don’t you come out here and stay for awhile? Who knows, you might have better luck finding a job here.”
I grin. “Baby, where am I gonna stay?”
“With me,” she replies, soundin’ all excited to have some dick in her life, “where else? My home is your home, baby. And you can stay here for as long as you need to, until you can get on your feet.”
I slide my hand down in my pants, play wit’ my dick, grinnin’. I’m tellin’ you. Fuck a weak-minded or emotionally starved broad right, and she’ll do whatever you want wit’ little to no coercion.
I don’t say shit; let her think the phone went dead.
“Hello, Alex? You still there?”
I lower my voice, sniffle a bit. “Yeah, baby. I’m here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m thinkin’, that’s all. I can’t believe you wanna do all this for me.”
“I know this might sound crazy because we don’t really know each other, but I feel like I love you, Alley Cat.”
“I know, I know. You already told me that. And I respect that. Still, you can’t stop me from feeling what I feel, whether you ever feel the same or not.”
I sigh, shakin’ my head. She’s been warned.
“I’ll call you in a few days with your flight info, okay, baby?”
“I’ll be waitin’,” I tell her, disconnectin’ the call.
Three days later, Vita hits me up on my cell. “Yo, what’s good, pretty baby?”
“Hey, sexy man,” she says, soundin’ like she’s grinnin’ from ear to ear. I can practically see this thirsty bitch droolin’. “I’ve been thinking about you. You miss me? I know I miss you, bad.”
“You,” she tells me, like I don’t already know this. “I made your flight reservations. I’m gonna text you the information.” I roll my eyes.
