The Score by Kiki Swinson Page B

good girl at heart. She was my ride-or-die chick and she was the realest chick I’d ever had on my team. Lauren was also loyal. Now, we’d had a lot of fights over the years but that came with the territory. I mean, what nigga doesn’t go through shit with their chicks? Street niggas didn’t do anything the easy way, including loving their chicks. If only Lauren could understand that all that cheating shit was just what I did to make up for my own shortcomings. It didn’t mean that I didn’t love her because I loved the fuck out of her and my feelings for her weren’t going to change.
    As I waited for her to come out of our walk-in closet, I sat on the side of our bed with my head in my hands. Things all of a sudden started weighing on me. I was a dog nigga and I knew it. I could probably help it if I wanted but the way I grew up, only weak niggas didn’t cheat. As much as I loved Lauren, I had fucked up again. This time it went deep. I was fucking with Yancy behind Lauren’s back and now I was feeling like shit about it. It was like I had a sickness. As long as I can remember, pussy has always been thrown at me, so I simply had to take it. Now I’m not making excuses for my behavior, but there was no denying that Yancy was a bad bitch in a totally different way than Lauren. Lauren had that wholesome good girl appeal about her. But, Yancy had that bad-bitch, freak-in-the-sheets, I’ll-suck-your-dick-on-camera type of swag about her. It was hard to pass up good pussy when it’s always in your face. It was wrong, but I couldn’t help it. I knew when Lauren brought Yancy around that Yancy was going to be trouble. I still remember the first day I laid eyes on Yancy. . . .
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    August 2011
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    â€œHelp me! Heeelp! Please somebody help me!!”
    I heard the screams but I was driving so I didn’t see where they were coming from. Lauren had spotted her first as we drove along the street where the Virginia Beach hoes worked the strip.
    â€œPlease! Somebody help me! He’s trying to kill me!”
    I had finally spotted her. She was screaming and running down the street barefoot, flailing her arms over her head trying to get someone to stop for her.
    â€œOh my God, Matt, that’s the girl that always sells me the jewelry,” Lauren said to me as we drove toward the highway. “Um . . . her name is Yancy. Yeah, Yancy. Look at how she looks. Somebody must be after her.”
    â€œA’ight, so,” I said nonchalantly. In my world if a bitch was running down the street either her man or her pimp was chasing her and that wasn’t none of my damn business. I was on parole and I wasn’t trying to catch no assault case from getting into the next man’s business.
    â€œAgh! Help!” We heard more screams as Yancy caught up to our car sitting at the light. She had a look of terror on her face like an ax murderer was coming after her.
    â€œSo you have to stop and help her. See what’s wrong at least. It’s the middle of the night . . . what if a damn crazy serial killer is chasing her,” Lauren said all dramatic-like. I shook my head in disbelief at what my girl was saying. Was she fucking crazy? Were we supposed to just pick up some strange girl off the street?
    â€œMan, listen. You know damn well ain’t no serial killer chasing that ho! A pimp, maybe, so that makes it none of my business. Let that chick handle her own shit. She looks like she’s got a good lead on ’em anyway. Besides, she probably be robbing tricks. That’s how she be getting all those watches and diamond cuff links she be selling,” I said dismissively. I wasn’t trying to step on the next man’s toes if he was trying to handle his business. Bad enough I had lost my entire enterprise based off some jealous nigga shit. I couldn’t afford to be in nothing that didn’t concern me or Lauren. “If she stole a