BRITISH MAHOGANY RACER.
CHICAGO, IL
OCTOBER 2019.
"Now why is you callin' me so late?" British playfully mugged as Dayvon's face finally popped up on the FaceTime call. His eyes a light shade of red, as he smiled playing with the root of his dreads as he sat in what looked like a modern kitchen.
"Damn, ion get no hey ah' nun?" He smiled low eyed and his voice subtle. "And cause mufuckas jus' got inna crib fa real."
"Oh okay," British hummed, "you musta had a good ol' time cause baby you can't even keep yo eyes open!"
"Hell yea." Dayvon laughed. "Ian gon lie ta' you, I'm high and a lil tipsy...as hell."
"Yeah, I can't tell." British said sarcastically, pulling her bonnet up over her edges. "Y'all had a party or sumn?"
"Yea, one of my homies was havin' a lil backyard party fa his bitch," he said nonchalantly.
British scrunched her face up. She always, always, had a strong distaste in the way some men would prefer to their woman or romantic partner as their bitch. She felt as though it was demeaning and when accepted that as a title it really showed your worth.
"You mean his lady?" She corrected him with emphasis.
"Das' da same shit." He shrugged making British mug him disgust evident all in her facial expression making Dayvon laugh. "What foe?"
"That's not the sane thing, and it's ugly of you to even think it is," she explained, "ugh, his bitch and his lady are two different types of titles to me!" British continued. "It could just be that I'm a big ass luva' girl and I think the world bitch—when a nigga is referring to his girl is ghetto as hell and rude. I know in my last relationship I cut that my bitch shit off real quick! If I can't be referred to as your girl, woman, or lady, don't refer to me at all!"
"I wanna be a nigga ole' lady, niggas love they ole' lady."
Dayvon let at her statement before continuing but looking at her with a sense of newfound admiration and even more respect than he already had for her. British laughed too, more in bewilderment than anything cause why was he looking at her like that.
"What?"
Dayvon sucked his teeth, tilting his head back looking at her with a small smirk and lowered eyes, "damn we on FaceTime, I can't look 'atchu?"
British sucked her teeth at the question, "it's not that you can't look at me, it's the way you lookin' at me like what?" She laughed.
"Naw, i jus' ain' neva' heard no bit—girl," he smoothly corrected himself not wanting to offend her, she took notice and smiled at how respectful it was, "say no shit like dat fa real. You know how ho's be whea' we from, don't give no fucks."
"But naw, that shit real sexy an' shit. Like yo mindset."
British rolled her eyes laughing a little at the compliment, "it ain't they fault. My grandma used ta' say when you don't know shit, you go for anything. But thank you, anyways. I appreciate that."
"That's some real shit," he nodded, "Ian even take you fa' da type ta' date a 63rd ass nigga," he grimaced at the mention, "whatcho' pretty ass was doin' wit him?"
"We was real young when we started datin'. I started datin' Kyrin when I was like sixteen," British thought back, "I was goin' through a lotta shit back then and honestly, Kyrin kinda helped me forget a-lot of that shit back then. Ian gon go as far to say he helped me, but he was there."
"I feel you," he mumbled, "Ian even know his dirty ass had a shorty, I always seen him wit' dem dirty ass opp ho's."
British rolled her eyes, "that's why we couldn't be together, you can only chase a bitch out the hood wit' a knife so many times. He had me lookin' like a fool runnin' up and down king drive!"
Dayvon eyes widened only a little as he laughed a lil bit, " I know yo ass ain' the one who was chasin' Tracy ass out da hood dat one time, g!"
British cringed at the memory playfully cutting her eyes at him, "yes, that was me! And I regret that shit everyday—I shouldn't have done that girl like that!"
"Naw, ha lil busy body ass needed dat," he assured her, "she ain' try ta' push up on nobody else afta' dat."
"Boy whateva," British smiled through a yawn, " I'm tired you not tired?"
"Hell naw," Dayvon yawned unintentionally, British triggering his, "yo ass makin' me yawn an' all types of shit doe."
"Merch," British smiled repositioning herself in bed.
"What?"
"When I was in trade school," British started, "I studied sonography, and we used to read these crazy books, and I remember reading something that said usually when a person yawns immediately after you, scientists believe the two of you share an emotional bond! And you yawned right after me, lemme find out!"
"I'm already knowin', look how we click," he smiled, "you still go?"
British laughed shaking her head, the once happy smile she sported diminishing, "nope, my grandma died so I wasn't able to finish out. I went to a body piercing course in Indiana for like three weeks for a couple hundred and took that up.
"I don't think I wanted to be a ultrasound technician anyways," British admitted, "I think I wanted to be a nurse, I love takin' care of people."
"Yea, I can see dat fa real." Dayvon nodded. "Just by how you take care of lil folks an' shit."
"Right," British yawned closing her eyes as she nestled closer to her pillow, "Nurse Brit."
"Naw, wake that ass up! Yeen' slick!"
_________
DAYVON BENNETT.
CHICAGO, IL
October 2019.
"Be careful foe nem!" Dayvon laughed helping Harlem up the stairs a few days later. Harlem was super excited to see his apartment that he shared with his sister and even though he knew his eldest sister and niece were gonna be staying in his room till they could get their own, he still wanted to see his room.
"I'm fine," Harlem edged out placing his hand over his bandage through his hoodie, as he inched up the stairs. His arm over Dayvon's shoulder, Dayvon's arm wrapped around his torso as he slightly lifted him helping him to the stairs. Once they made it up to the apartment, the door was open and British clapped her hands together happily, just happy that her brother was finally home and in good spirits.
"Baby!" She cooed as Harlem smiled sucking his teeth at the nickname he claimed he hated so much, he quietly grunted as she gave him a light squeeze, slowly making his way into the apartment, he seen a couple of pieces of furniture still boxed up but nevertheless he loved the place just cause it was theirs. The kitchen, his sisters room, the bathroom, even his room although Cali and Camden were occupying it. "Do you like it?" British asked hopefully.
"I love it." Harlem expressed sitting in a metal folding chair at the island. His stomach was on fire and he was hungry, the two just didn't mesh.
"Good, I'm glad. It's ours." British smiled before her whine demeanor changed. Dayvon could tell as he leaned up against the island both he and Harlem staring at her intently. "Harlem, I wanna talk to you about something."
Harlem looked at her, his stare skeptical as he answered slowly, "about what?"
British sighed picking at the bottom of her shirt as she continued. "Harlem, do you rememba' anything about the night you got shot? The car, the person? Anything?" Harlem instantly sighed. The whole question irritating him all over again. Even as young as he was, in their hood it was taught early on that you don't snitch to anyone! Family, cops, no one. You took what you got and that was it.
"I don't wanna talk about this," he lowly mumbled as British continued her rambling. The whole situation made him uncomfortable.
"Harlem, I know—"
"British, let it go." Dayvon said to her knowing any further questioning of the incident would only make him shut down completely and Dayvon didn't want that for him and he knew British didn't either. British sucked her teeth seeing the look in his eyes before walking out of the kitchen
"I didn't mean to make her mad," Harlem Harlem mumbled his eyes jumping over to Dayvon.
"She ain' mad atchu' lil folks, she jus' worried fa real. Dat night, yo sista' was goin' crazy foe nem. She really was scared, she thought you died." Dayvon explained to him making him nod. "She jus' wanna know. She jus' wanna keep you safe from allat."
Harlem nodded. He knew exactly who shot him. But what difference would it make if British knew, it already happened. And he was just ready to get over it.
_________
y'all, our nephew is back home we can breathe!
not Dayvon and British on FaceTime, like what's that all about?
hood cry in the morning!