Sabrena rolled her eyes. “Bitch, you know that's a soft spot with me.”
“Whatever, I should've known y'all wouldn't understand me and Walik.” Imani felt like she wanted to coldcock her friends in the face. “None of y'all have ever had a man like Walik. I've been with him since I was thirteen years old. I'm twenty-three now, that's ten years.”
“Ten years?” Sabrena said. “Ain't you tired of that dick? The way he fuckin' you has got to be played.”
“Don't you worry about it.”
“But Imani,” Quiana jumped in, “let's not forget you went to jail for six months fuckin' with his tired ass!”
“Yeah, remember?” Sabrena rolled her eyes. “And that wasn't even yo' shit. All you were doing was lying on the couch with morning sickness when the cops kicked the door in. And six months later you were the one in front of the judge copping a time-served and a year's probation plea.”
“I got charged as a minor.”
“You still went to jail,” Quiana said.
Imani couldn't help but agree. “Yeah… and then he go and fuck that bum bitch.” Tears started to stream down her face. “I got something for his ass, though. I'ma call crackhead Larry and give all his shit away.”
“I'm wit' that.” Sabrena rolled her eyes. “Since he wanna play you, let his ass come home naked.”
“I was ride or die for his ass,” Imani cried. “I was pregnant and I still held his ass down. Hell, ain't that love?”
“Hell yeah, that's love,” Quiana snapped. “Shante ain't never did no time for his ass.”
“All that bitch did was have him take care of her daughter and get pregnant. All I wanna ask him is,
When did she become your girl, and where the hell was I when the switch took place?
” Imani wiped the tears from her face.
“That's why we gon' fix his ass,” Sabrena insisted, “and, Imani, don't be cryin' over no niggah; cry over his ass when you riding his enemy's dick.”
“True story,” Imani agreed. She got up, her friends following closely behind her into the bedroom. Imani opened the closet and Walik's shit almost fell on top of her. When he'd first asked her to hold his things for him, Imani had complained she didn't have theroom. Her two-bedroom, Section 8, twelfth-floor Brooklyn flat was just enough for her and Jamal and nothing extra. But at the time she couldn't refuse Walik; after all, he was her man, and she was determined to hold him down no matter what. Well… today was a new day and Walik's shit had to go.
“And after this,” Quiana said, “we going to the club and get our party on. Fuck these fake-ass get-money niggahs in the street.”
“Yeah, I need to get outta here,” Imani agreed.
Since they were now on a mission to give Walik's shit away and get to the club, the girls lined up. Imani had gone into the kitchen and grabbed the garbage bags. When she came back, the assembly line began: yank, yank, pass, and trash…Yank, yank, pass, and trash.
“It's a shame we gotta punish niggahs like this,” Sabrena said. “Don't go back and start fuckin' with him again, Imani. And I mean it!”
“ 'Cause if you do,” Tasha said, “all you gon' be doing is buying this shit all over again.”
“Fuck his ass.” Imani rolled her eyes. “Let him go be with Shante, they got a family and all.”
“And don't fall for no fake-ass apology,” Sabrena said. “ 'Cause even though a niggah says he's sorry, he still lyin' and you can tell by how he apologizes what the hell he really did.”
“Word,” Tasha countered. “I know for me, if a niggah says he's sorry and stays at my spot all day and night, that means he fucked a bitch. And all he's feeling is guilty.”
“Yup, and if he says sorry,” Quiana said, “then he gets mad and leaves, I know he's getting ready to fuck the bitch, and then he'll say I was always accusing him and always having an attitude, and that's why he fucked her.”
“That's a niggah for you. But,” Sabrena said, taking Walik's nickel-plated .38 and
“Whatever, I should've known y'all wouldn't understand me and Walik.” Imani felt like she wanted to coldcock her friends in the face. “None of y'all have ever had a man like Walik. I've been with him since I was thirteen years old. I'm twenty-three now, that's ten years.”
“Ten years?” Sabrena said. “Ain't you tired of that dick? The way he fuckin' you has got to be played.”
“Don't you worry about it.”
“But Imani,” Quiana jumped in, “let's not forget you went to jail for six months fuckin' with his tired ass!”
“Yeah, remember?” Sabrena rolled her eyes. “And that wasn't even yo' shit. All you were doing was lying on the couch with morning sickness when the cops kicked the door in. And six months later you were the one in front of the judge copping a time-served and a year's probation plea.”
“I got charged as a minor.”
“You still went to jail,” Quiana said.
Imani couldn't help but agree. “Yeah… and then he go and fuck that bum bitch.” Tears started to stream down her face. “I got something for his ass, though. I'ma call crackhead Larry and give all his shit away.”
“I'm wit' that.” Sabrena rolled her eyes. “Since he wanna play you, let his ass come home naked.”
“I was ride or die for his ass,” Imani cried. “I was pregnant and I still held his ass down. Hell, ain't that love?”
“Hell yeah, that's love,” Quiana snapped. “Shante ain't never did no time for his ass.”
“All that bitch did was have him take care of her daughter and get pregnant. All I wanna ask him is,
When did she become your girl, and where the hell was I when the switch took place?
” Imani wiped the tears from her face.
“That's why we gon' fix his ass,” Sabrena insisted, “and, Imani, don't be cryin' over no niggah; cry over his ass when you riding his enemy's dick.”
“True story,” Imani agreed. She got up, her friends following closely behind her into the bedroom. Imani opened the closet and Walik's shit almost fell on top of her. When he'd first asked her to hold his things for him, Imani had complained she didn't have theroom. Her two-bedroom, Section 8, twelfth-floor Brooklyn flat was just enough for her and Jamal and nothing extra. But at the time she couldn't refuse Walik; after all, he was her man, and she was determined to hold him down no matter what. Well… today was a new day and Walik's shit had to go.
“And after this,” Quiana said, “we going to the club and get our party on. Fuck these fake-ass get-money niggahs in the street.”
“Yeah, I need to get outta here,” Imani agreed.
Since they were now on a mission to give Walik's shit away and get to the club, the girls lined up. Imani had gone into the kitchen and grabbed the garbage bags. When she came back, the assembly line began: yank, yank, pass, and trash…Yank, yank, pass, and trash.
“It's a shame we gotta punish niggahs like this,” Sabrena said. “Don't go back and start fuckin' with him again, Imani. And I mean it!”
“ 'Cause if you do,” Tasha said, “all you gon' be doing is buying this shit all over again.”
“Fuck his ass.” Imani rolled her eyes. “Let him go be with Shante, they got a family and all.”
“And don't fall for no fake-ass apology,” Sabrena said. “ 'Cause even though a niggah says he's sorry, he still lyin' and you can tell by how he apologizes what the hell he really did.”
“Word,” Tasha countered. “I know for me, if a niggah says he's sorry and stays at my spot all day and night, that means he fucked a bitch. And all he's feeling is guilty.”
“Yup, and if he says sorry,” Quiana said, “then he gets mad and leaves, I know he's getting ready to fuck the bitch, and then he'll say I was always accusing him and always having an attitude, and that's why he fucked her.”
“That's a niggah for you. But,” Sabrena said, taking Walik's nickel-plated .38 and
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