(Paris:)
“Paris, hurry the hell up!”
I stepped out the shower and put on my bra and panties set that was set on my bed in my bedroom. I was in the process of lotioning up my body when my door burst open.
“Paris, you needa hurry up, you taking forever.”
Light bright skin color, and standing at a fitting 6'3, my bestfriend came into my bedroom with a scowl written on his face. I didn't cover myself up, because he seeing me like this is almost an everyday thing. He was wearing a plain white tshirt, khaki cargo pants, and Timberland boots. His afro was neatly picked, and he looked good.
Maurice and I met when we were 7. He came to my window, knocking on it and asked if he could sleep over because his parents would be arguing. I let him sleep under my high bed, until we hit 13 and he would sleep in my bed with me. He would come in late at night, and leave early in the morning so his parents wouldn't know he's gone, and my parents wouldn't know he came over. It ended when we were 14 and his father officially left his mama and him and went off on his own. Since then, Maurice has been my bestfriend. I can't lie, tho. I had the eyes for him, and I still do. I mean, he's sexy. I just don't want to jeopardize the friendship that we have right now because I decide to tell him my feelings for him, so I just keep them to myself.
“I just got out the shower, Mar.” I said, rolling my eyes at him as I lotioned my legs and looked at him.
“Well, just hurry up.” He said, taking a quick glance at my body before leaving out my room.
I sighed and walked over to my closet and pulled out a sky blue, tightly fitted, short dress and some silver platform heels. I put them on and took a trip to the stool in front of my mirror. I rolled my hair into spiral curls, and lightly touched my cheeks with a rose colored blush. I painted my lips with light pink gloss, and I put on a simple necklace around my neck that read my name. Paris.
“Paris!” I heard my name being hollered once more. I grabbed my purse and placed my phone and keys inside it and walked out of my room, closing the door behind me.
I walked down the staircase to see Maurice standing with an annoyed look on his face, while he was scrolling through his phone. He looked up at me and did a double take. His jaw slightly dropped, and I smiled at him, with pure enjoyment written all over my face.
“You look good as hell.” He stated honestly, looking me up and down. I smirked, “That's what happens when you're not being rushed.” His demeanor quickly changed, “Whatever, you ready to go?” I nodded, and he walked out the front door with me right behind him. I closed the door and locked it, getting into the passenger side of Maurice’s Benz.
“I can’t believe I really agreed going to this shit with you.” I said, taking out my phone and unlocking it. “Paris, lose allat attitude. You should be glad I told your antisocial, desperate ass to come anyway.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. I rolled my eyes as I checked the text message I had on my phone. It was from my other bestfriend, Cookie.
“Hey, boo. What you doing?”
I texted her, telling her about the club Maurice was talking me to.
“Oh, well, have fun. I hope you get you a nigga.”
Cookie had been my bestfriend since I was fourteen, during my freshman year of high school. I accidentally bumped into some bitch, and she snapped on me, but for some reason, Cookie stepped in the middle of it and beat her ass. Just then, I knew I had to keep her around. I invited her over to my house when I used to stay with my mother, and she noticed the ballet slippers I had hanging on the wall. She asked me if I still danced, and I told her why I didn’t. She had a similar situation, but with her mother, so she didn’t judge me. That’s when I realized I found my female bestfriend.
And, to her comment about me getting a nigga, I decline. I haven’t had a boyfriend since I was a teen, fifteen to be exact. Since then, I vowed to myself that I wouldn’t get into a relationship with another nigga unless he was perfect, and I knew him for more than just a couple weeks. It’s still hard as hell to have a boyfriend if you’re me with an overprotective big brother, a caring bestfriend, and a father who’s in jail, but still makes sure I’m doing alright.
I smirked at her text before rolling my eyes. I placed my phone back in my purse and took out my makeup compartment and touching up my makeup once more, to make sure it was perfect. Not too long later, I heard loud, booming music, and the smell of weed in the distance. I looked up to see Maurice was nearing the club.
He pulled into a parking space and I sighed, “Here we go.” I said, sarcastically which caused Maurice to place his cold hand on my bare thigh. “Man, Paris. I swear you’ll have fun, you look good. That’s all that matters.” He said, looking into my eyes. I stared at him for a moment before I broke the gaze and pulled the handle to the door, and unbuckled my seatbelt.
I followed Maurice as he passed the long waiting line of people who was tryna get in as well.
“Wassap, G?” Maurice asked, as he dapped up the security that stood guard.
“Wassap, Brook?” He replied, calling Maurice ‘Brook’ as a nickname to Maurice’s last name, Westbrook. “This you?” He asked, nodding his head towards me and looking me up and down.
“Nah, this my bestfriend, Paris.” He said, placing me next to him and putting his arm around my shoulder.
“She bad as fuck.” He said to Maurice, but looking me up and down and licking his lips. I smiled genuinely at him, cause he was a cute ass nigga, but I didn’t want him thinking I was interested, because I really wasn’t.
“I know, but she off limits, bruv.” Maurice said to him.
“Shit, it don’t matter what you say, Brook. I’ma get that ass by the night ova with.” The security said, as he clip opened the red rope to let us in the club. I rudely mugged him and rolled my eyes before stepping into the club.
I absolutely hate a nigga who only sees a woman for her body. I believe we’re much more than that… well, I’m much more than that. I don’t just give away my body like most of the females here in NYC, that’s why I don’t trust these bitches. They ain’t shit.
“This shit live as hell.” Maurice said, squinting his eyes at all the lights that surrounded the club. All you saw was twerking on the dance floor, kissing in the V.I.P sections, or drinking at the bar. I highly doubt I’m going to have the great night Maurice was telling me I was gonna have.
I felt Maurice arm lift off of me and I looked back to see he was wrapped up on another girl. “I’ma see you later, Paris. Have fun.” He said, as the girl started kissing on him in the middle of him talking. Rude ass.
I made my way to the bar and sat down and crossed my legs. Immediately after I got comfortable, I heard a female beside me crying. I ain’t wanna mess with her, cause I ain’t know the bitch, but her cries were so necessary that I placed my hand on her back and started rubbing it up and down to soothe her.
“It’s gone be alright, girl.” I said, trying to calm her down. After her quick breathing subsided, she looked up at me. Her eyes were bloodshot red because of all the crying she did, but her eyelashes were black and full. She had a light skin color, with curly light brown hair and her eyebrows were freshly arched. Her lipstick was slightly smeared, but it made her lips look bigger. She was a very pretty lady, indeed.
“Thanks.” She simply said, while smiling at me. I nodded and smiled back, “No problem.” I turned back around to face the front of the bar, and I was roughly turned back around. “What’s your name, doll?” She asked me, as I mugged her before looking her up and down. I chose against beating the shit outta her and said, “Paris.”
She laughed, “My bad, Paris. But, I’m Camilla.” She said, wiping the tears out of her eyes. I nodded and said, “Well, Camilla, why you so sad? I mean errbody out here having a good ass time, while you just sitting here crying like they ain’t no tomorrow.” She smacked her teeth and waved me off, “Nigga problems. I thought that since we’re both 20 years young, he woulda been mature enough to handle a relationship with me, but I thought wrong.” I laughed, “I feel yah, honey. I’m 20, also, and I ain’t been in a relationship since I was a teen. I swear, I don’t trust these niggas.”
She giggled and said, “Why you sitting here all alone, too? I mean, no homo, but you real pretty.” I shrugged, “Thanks, but my bestfriend made me come, told me I was gone have fun tonight, so I just said okay.”
Camilla and I sat at the bar talking like we just knew each other for years and we were catching up on the old stuff. She a cool ass person, forreal. She kinda remind me of Cookie, but she don’t got her head stuck up her ass like Cookie do.
“You want a drink, doll?” She asked me, as she called the bartender over. I looked up at the board with the drinks on it and then back down at my hands. I don’t ever drink unless it’s a special occasion, and this was not a special occasion. But, Maurice said I was supposed to have fun, right?
“Sure, why not?” I replied, grinning at her.
“Yes, babies. How can I help ya’ll?” The bartender said. By the tone of his voice, the twist of his walk, and the lipstick on his lips, I could tell that he was on the fruity side. “Yeah, can we get two Touchdowns, please?” Camilla asked. He smiled and said, “Sure thang. Don’t ya’ll sexy asses be going nowhere.” He said, as he twisted off to the back, only returning moments later with our drinks in both of his hands. He set one down in front of Camilla, and one in front of me. It was a peachy colored drink, with an umbrella sticking out of it.
Camilla quickly started sipping on hers as I asked, “What’s in this?” She laughed, “Vodka, tequila, and Gatorade. I get this shit all the time.” I liked the mix she called out so I shrugged and sipped my drink. I quickly felt the burn of the tequila go down my system, but it felt good. I took sip after sip after sip before I eventually finished it.
Camilla ordered us another round and we wasted no time in finishing it. “You wanna go burn this drink off on the dance floor?” She asked me, as she stood up. I was a little woozy, but I accepted her invite anyway. I hopped off the stool I was sitting in, and straightened out my dress, taking Camilla’s hand and walking to the dance floor. We made our way to the middle of it, and she put her hands on my hips, and I threw mines in the air as we sway to the beat of the music that was playing.
In no time, Camilla had a partner all behind her as I let her go so she could dance with him.
“You wanna dance, ma?” I heard the deep voice in my ear say. I turned around to become face to neck with this darkskinned brotha, who had tattoos running up both arms. His brown eyes glistened as he moved and he bit his pink bottom lip which was full and so kissable. He was muscular, and had a low hair cut that looked good as hell in the club lights. He had a scar underneath his left eye, but it somewhat attracted me. The way that he stood, you could tell that he had a six pack underneath the loosely fitting white shirt he was wearing, and all I wanted to do was touch it. Touch it.
“That depends,” I said, smiling, “What kinda dance we talking?”
“It don’t matter how we dancing, as long as you dancing with me.” He said, grinning to expose his straight, white teeth. As soon as the words rolled off his tongue, ‘Booty Hopscotch’ by Kstylis came on and I smiled at him. “I guess it’s your lucky day.” I said, before turning around on him and him grabbing a hold of my waist.
“Keep that ass jumping! Keep that ass jumping!”
I bent over and started twerking my ass back on him. I looked up and made eye contact with Camilla who was grinding and twerking all on her partner. She winked at me, and I smiled as I placed both of my hands on my knees and continued to throw my ass back. I felt him remove his hands off my waist, as I also felt his partner growing on my ass. I looked back at him as he looked down at me and was smiling hard as hell. I shook my head and giggled as I started grinding on him.
I went at it until the song was over. I grabbed Camilla’s hand as we made our way to the bar. “Damn, doll! You had ole’ boy hard and shit. You can dance.” She said, as she ordered another drink for both of us. “I got a lil sum, but you had your nigga’s eyes rolling to the back of his head like he was getting some head or some shit!” I said, bursting out into laughter with her. She shrugged her shoulders and sipped her drink.
“You got some damn skills, ma.” I heard the same voice in my ear again, and I couldn’t help but grin. I put on my poker face before I turned around to look at him, “Thank you, uh…”
“Rios.” He said, biting his bottom lip, and looking straight into my face, and not my breasts. That’s a plus right there.
I smiled and turned back around towards Camilla, who had a nigga all up on her neck. It was the same one she was dancing with. “Paris, I’m finna go to the V.I.P section. Aight, doll?” She told me, and I nodded, taking another sip of my drink.
“Oh, so it’s Paris?” Rios asked me, who was still standing behind me. Oh, he waited. That’s another plus. “Yup, that’s what my necklace says.” I replied, as I turned back around in my stool to face him so he could see my necklace. He was a gorgeous ass nigga, but you can’t trust these pretty boys.
“Just like the city, beautiful.” He said, smiling with his pretty set of teeth. Okay, that was corny as hell. I get that all the fucking time.
“Thanks, Rios. I’m not tryna be rude, or push you away, but do you need anything else? I mean, you got your dance, so why you back?” I asked, in a somewhat sweet tone, so he wouldn’t think I want him to leave, cause I really don’t. Looking at his face is making me feel some type of way.
He chuckled, “I ain’t only want a dance from you, I wanna get to know you. Plus, you way to fine to be sitting at the bar alone.” Word? Shit, that’s another plus.
“Well, wassap?” I asked, taking a long sip of my drink that made my stomach start to churn. I felt something begin building up at the pit of my stomach, but I tried to ignore it.
“First, I know you gotta be some kind of dancer, the way you was moving on a nigga had me feeling all giddy and shit.” He said, truthfully, which caused me to laugh out loud. This nigga funny. Another plus.
“Well, no. I don’t dance.” I said, taking another sip of my drink. I felt something crawling up my body slowly, and I knew I was gonna have to throw up at anytime soon.
“You okay, ma?” Rios asked me. I nodded my head, but quickly took it back as I hopped off the stool and ran towards the restroom, leaving Rios to wonder. I ain’t even get to know the nigga.
(Maurice:)
I unbuckled Paris’s seatbelt and threw her body over my shoulder. “Wee, Maurice! Where you taking me? Can you throw me up in the air? I wanna fly, Maurice! Please!” She exclaimed as I got to the front step of her door. She was way too damn drunk.
I opened her door, and locked it back. I took her upstairs and into her room as I threw her on her bed, and closed the door back behind us. “Maurice, why am I in here? I don’t wanna go to sleep yet.” She complained, pouting while sitting crisscrossed on her bed. This how you know she was drunk, because she was wearing a dress. “Yeen gotta go to sleep yet, just calm your hype ass down.” I said, watching her as she childishly rolled her eyes at me. “You don’t tell me what to do, Maurice. Gosh.” She whined like a lil kid. I come across a lot of drunk ass people, but nobody like her. “Man, Paris, just shut the hell up.” I said, kicking off my timbs.
“Maurice, you acting like a pus-“ She stopped, before she could finish her sentence, she was passed out on the bed. I wasn’t finna let her go to sleep like that, so I went into her restroom and filled a cup with water and walked back into her room and poured it out on her.
“Fuck, Maurice!” She exclaimed as she woke up and wiped her face with her hands, smearing any kind of makeup she was wearing. “Why the fuck would you do that?” She yelled, quickly standing up and stretching her dress down.
“You passed out. Your stupid ass betta be happy that I did that shit.” I said with a shrug.
“UGH, FUCK YOU, MAURICE! AND GET THE HELL OUT MY HOUSE!” She yelled as she ran into her restroom, slamming the door behind her. I tossed my boots to the side of her room and laid down on her bed.
Paris Hendrix. That’s my baby right there, as in bestfriend. Since we were 7 years old, I knew to myself that she was gone be down with me for whatever. She was with me thru all the struggles that I went thru, especially when my fuck ass daddy left me and my mama to care for ourselves. She didn’t judge me when I started slanging, but she wasn’t with it either, considering that’s the reason her father went to jail. She don’t wanna see me where her daddy is, but a nigga gotta do what a nigga gotta do to provide for his single mother. She’s at every one of my basketball games, cheering me on. That’s why I love her ass so much. That’s why ion let nobody fuck with her to fuck her over. Especially no nigga. Her father, brother, and I are the only niggas she need in her life. I mean, I know I ain’t her boyfriend or no shit like that, but ion wanna see no nigga take advantage of her. I wish I could be her nigga, though, who wouldn’t? Paris is one of the sexiest females a nigga can lay their eyes on. With her Mexican complexion, long black hair, big brown eyes, hella tattoos, and ass and chest for days, I wouldn’t be ashamed to wife her up. Ever since the first day we met, a niggas eyes been fluttering for her. I just don’t want to ruin the friendship that we got right now, so I’m just keeping everything about her to myself.
After a long ass 30 minutes went by, Paris finally came out of the restroom, with only her underwears on. I had to refrain my eyes from looking at her perfect body. “Why you still here?” She asked, mugging me and walking towards her makeup mirror.
“I had to make sure your drunk ass was alright.” I said, looking at her from my phone. I was texting a couple bitches and hoes I met at the club.
“Well, I am. Can you get me a tank top from my top drawer?” She asked, as she started to pin her hair up. “Bipolar ass.” I mumbled as I got up from her bed and took out a blue tank top and handed it to her. “Thanks.” I heard her whisper under her breath, which caused me to smile. I laid back down on her bed and scrolled through my phone until she spoke again, “How drunk was I?”
I sat up and looked at her, “What?”
“I mean like… all I remember was running into the restroom, and then the next thing I know; I’m waking up to your ugly ass throwing water in my face. Was I that drunk?” She said, looking at me intently, causing me to chuckle. “Man, ion even know. All I know is I was with a bitch in the V.I.P section, and some nigga sat near us with another bad ass bitch on his lap. They was kissing and shit til she got up and was like ‘I’ll be right back.’ Next time I seen her, she was carrying you on her shoulder. I had to get you from her and bring you home.” I said, and she began laughing.
“Aww man, fa’real?” She said, giggling. “Hell yeah, fa’real.” I said, in her voice.
“Man, Maurice, I was talking to this sexy ass nigga, too! I almost threw up on him and shit.” She said, laughing like hell and turning back around to finish her hair.
“Fuck him. I was probably with the baddest bitch out there, but I had to take yo ass off ole’ girl shoulder and bring you here. Who the hell was she anyway?” I asked, scrolling through my phone.
“This girl I met named Camilla. I swear she cool as fuck, Mar.” She said, nodding her head.
“She bad as fuck, too. That’s why yo nigga got her number.” I said, laughing with my tongue all out and shit. I took off my shirt, exposing my body to make myself comfortable.
“Don’t be stealing my friends, Mar.” She said, taking a quick glance at my body before turning red. I knew her light bright ass was blushing.
“Ain’t nobody tryna steal yo friends, but on the real, she gave me her number to give it to you.” I mumbled the last part so she couldn’t really hear it. She laughed out loud and got up off her stool and started making her way towards me.
“Lemme see your phone, Maurice.” She said, grinning like hell.
“The fuck? No, bitch you betta sit yo happy ass back down.” I said, opening a text on my phone, but could see her through my peripheral vision. She quickly snatched my phone out of my hand, and I reacted quickly, too.
“Aww, you still doing this picture shit? She got a nice ass body, Mar.” She said, laughing as I tried to reach for my phone. “Give me my shit, Paris!” I yelled at her, as she began bending over to the ground, so I couldn’t get my phone. She eventually fell forward, causing me to land on my back and her straddling me.
“Maurice. You really named her in your contacts as BadBitchCurlyHead?” She said, laughing hysterically. I rapidly snatched my phone out her hand and slipped it in my pants pocket as she fell forward onto my chest, laughing. I ain’t put my hands on her hips, so she wouldn’t think I’m tryna no slick move, so we stayed in the position for a couple of minutes until her laughing died down. She got back up and let out a ‘woo’ and placed her hand on her chest, calming down her laughter.
“Is you done?” I asked her, which caused her to laugh even more. She officially stopped by saying, “Okay, I’m done. I’m done.” I looked up at her as she looked down on me. She folded her arms beneath her chest and said, “Why are you naked?”
“I ain’t naked; I just don’t got my shirt on.” I said, simply, because it was the truth. “Well, why don’t you got on your shirt?”
“Cause I’m spending the night, duh.” I said, as if it wasn’t anything new. It really wasn’t. “Shit to me. You better get your ass the hell outta here.” She said, and I pouted my lip. “C’mon, please Pair.” I whined.
“Nope, why can’t you sleep at your house?”
“Cause I’m sleepy, and if I’m driving while I’m sleepy, I’ma get in a fucking wreck.”
“And, so? Am I supposed to give a fuck?”
“Stop fucking lying, Paris. You know damn well if I get in an accident, your pussy ass would be the first one to my bedside.” I said, pushing her backwards to make her unsteady.
“Stop, Mar.” She said, pushing herself back up by grabbing my knees with her hands. “But, shut the fuck up.”
“So, can I stay?” I asked, cheesing.
“I guess, damn. But, I ain’t waking you up for work or practice. I hope you miss both.” She said, opening up her legs to get off of me. I stood up after her and mushed her head.
I went into her restroom and took a quick shower, and brushed my teeth. I put on a new pair of boxers that I keep in her closet, and some deodorant. I pulled my hair back into a ponytail, and walked back into Paris’s bedroom, where she was watching TV. She looked at me and smirked, like she was about to laugh.
“Te ves como una perra con su cabello en una cola de caballo. (You look like a bitch with your hair in a ponytail.)” She said, laughing. I didn’t smirk, smile, laugh, none of that shit. I just walked right up to her and popped her in her fucking eye. “Ion needa take you to the club no more. Whatever drank you drunk got you talking stupid.” I said, going around the other side of the bed and laying down.
“Fuck you, Maurice.” She said, as she quickly sat up and grabbed a tissue off the side table and wiped away the tears that were forming in one eye.
“Nah, we can do that later. Go to sleep.” I said, throwing half of the sheets over me. She laughed, “You so nasty, Mar.” I smirked and looked up at her, “I know. Didn’t you see what I was texting them hoes back on my phone?” I asked, which caused her to mush my head. “Shut the hell up talking. When you started learning Spanish?” She asked, turning off her table side lamp and grabbing the remote to turn off the TV.
I closed my eyes, “I been hearing yo ass and your family speak Spanish for all my life, stop asking stupid ass questions. Goodnight, Paris.” She turned her back on me, and I wrapped my arms around her stomach. “Night, bestfriend.” She mumbled.
I woke up to hear the sounds of vomiting in the restroom. I looked to my side where Paris was supposed to be, and she wasn’t there. I groaned and kicked off the covers and made my way into the restroom with her.
“Aight, Paris. You either pregnant, or is this your hangover?” I asked, as I ran hot water over a small towel. She looked up at me and it looked like she had the fucking devil in her eyes, like she was on some real illuminati type shit. “Damn, I was just playing.” I said, handing her the towel.
“I been throwing up over this damn toilet since bout 3 in the morning, and now that it’s 5, you wanna come say some.” She groaned, as she placed the towel on her forehead. “Yo ugly ass, why you ain’t wake me up? I wanted to be up and outta here by 6.” I said, walking out of the room and into the room of her house that I kept my clothes.
“I told you I wasn’t gone wake you up – oww.” She yelled, and then subsided. I’m so glad she got this damn hangover so she’ll stop hollering at a nigga. I changed into all black, and pulled on my timbs from last night, and a gold chain and gold watch. When I was finished dressing up, I walked back into Paris’s room, and she was just coming out of the restroom. She looked better than she did when I left. “You must took an Aleve?” I asked her, walking to her bed and sitting on it. “Yeah.” She replied, about to leave out of the room.
“Wait, Paris.” I whimpered. She turned around and glared at me, “Yes?” I smiled and her and fluttered my eyes, which made her smile a little. “Can you fix me some breakfast?” Her smile quickly faded away, and turned into a mug. “Hell no, you better go buy your own damn food.” She said, rolling her eyes and tryna leave. “Man, Paris please!” I yelled out to her.
“Nigga, don’t you see I’m sick? And, it’s damn near 5 in the morning, what the fuck I look like cooking breakfast?” She told me which caused me to chuckle a little. I said the only thing that’ll make her do so, “I’ll take you shopping after basketball practice.”
She smiled like a lil kid, “Really?” I sighed and rolled my eyes, “Go fix me my damn food or I’ma change my mind.” I said. She cheesed with all her teeth, “Kay, Mar!”.
I grabbed my phone out of my jeans pocket, as Paris left the room. I had plenty of texts, but the first one I opened was the one from my life long nigga, Nino.
“Where the hell you at, nigga?”
“Remember who you talking to, nah. I’m on my way, doe.”
“Fuck you, nigga. You ain’t shit.”
“That’s what I’m doing to yo mama. She says hi.”
“Lol, nigga you a fool.”
I smiled at his last text and started texting my hoes and workers back. About 30 minutes later, Paris called me to get the food. I looked around the room to make sure I ain’t forgot nothing, then I left downstairs to the kitchen. She had two plastic boxes sitting on the counter, and she was eating out of one, so I helped myself to the other one.
I opened it and it had eggs, pancakes, sausages, bacon, waffles, a cup of butter, and a cup of syrup. She had enough food to feed the whole damn hood up in this plate.
“What the fuck is this?” I asked her, looking down at the food.
“What you talmbout?” She asked me, with her mouth full of food.
“I know damn well you ain’t cook all this food in no 30 minutes.” I said, cause I know she couldn’t have. It was too quick. It would’ve taken my mama bout 3 hours.
“Cause I didn’t. I just took leftovers out the fridge and heated them up.” She said, stuffing pancakes into her mouth.
I just stared at her ass until she felt uncomfortable. She started squirming around in her seat until she asked, “What?”
“You tryna give me damn salmonella, fuck you mean ‘they leftovers’?” I asked, still staring at her. She rolled her eyes and smacked her teeth, “I made it yesterday morning, dumbass.” I smiled at her, and said, “Oh. Thank you.” She laughed and said, “Stupid bitch. You owe me.”
“I got you, Paris.” I said, pulling out a wad of cash from my pocket and walking towards her with it. She placed her hand over mines and looked me in my eyes and said, “Ion want your dirty money, Mar.” I smacked my teeth and snatched my hand from under hers, “My money ain’t dirty.”
“Yes it is. That’s slanging money, so it is dirty.” She simply said, going back to her food. “I slang for a reason.” I replied to her. She looked up at me, “No mama wanna see their son slanging.”
“And, no son wanna see their mama struggling. You done talking shit now?” I asked her, irritated cause she know damn well why I slang.
“Yeah, Mar, whatever.”
“I’m finna go, so you can go back to sleep if you want.” I said, grabbing a plastic fork and placing it in the box then closing it.
“Aight, I’m fin’to… as soon as I’m done eating.” She said, taking eggs and stuffing them in her mouth.
“You so unlady like.” I said, making my way towards her and embracing her.
“Ion care. I’m only in front of you, you ain’t shit.” She said, putting her fork down and hugging me back.
“Don’t make me beat your ass before I leave.” I said. She giggled and mumbled into my chest, “I love you, Maurice.”
“Love you, too.” I said, unwrapping my hands from her and grabbing my to go plate. I picked up my keys from the kitchen island, and made my way to the front door.
“Oh, yeah. I’ma text you ole’ girl number later on.” I remembered. She smirked and me and said, “I know.”
I stuck my tongue out at her, and closed the door, walking down the driveway to my car. Another day, another dollar.
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Maurice in Multimedia