fucking scientists searching for clues and shit to argue about, roaming though a nigga’s pockets, cell phone, car, wallet, and computer history to make a nigga more miserable than her ass. Very few women were happy with themselves but they wanted men to make them happy.
Why didn’t you take out the trash, send me flowers, call me back, or invite me out? Why did you look at her? Is she prettier? Does she have bigger breasts, a better ass? Do you want her? “No.” Yes you do. “No I don’t.” Go be with her then. “Who are you talking about?” Her!
Women were born fucked up in the head. If they weren’t self-taught how to dog men, they eventually learned from haters. Women turned good men bad, bad men worse. Blame it on PMS: “I’m cramping.” Premenopause: “I forgot.” Menopause: “I’m hot.” Postmenopause: “I’m all dried up.” Always imbalanced and, shit, women were forever straight trippin’.
Red Velvet didn’t know me but the sick trick threatened me not to hurt Lace. Onyx professed she was trying to meet my monetary demand to save Lace’s life. I knew damn well Onyx couldn’t come up with fifty million without Lace’s approval. Bitch was stalling.
I had to keep shit moving. Find Lace. Get paid. Blaze the fuck up outta the ATL. Pause. Backtrack. Retrack. The ATL could do me righteous. Whores, strippers, and freaks were plentiful. I could open a new Immaculate Perception. Do it up Vegas style like my original spot with theme rooms and shit. Fuck. Lace arranged all that shit. Maybe I should apologize, talk her into coming back to work for a nigga. One thing at time. I had to stay focused.
Back to Lace. Her ass was too fucking brilliant to go home after we left her in the parking lot. And I wasn’t crazy enough to show up at her house again. Driving sixty, the light freeway traffic was decent. The hot wind blasted my face, making it hard to breathe. Covering my nose, I inhaled short breaths.
“Valentino James is nobody’s fool, B.”
Tricks told me to meet them at Stilettos, their turf, their time. Did they believe I was that stupid? Lace might show up. They’d probably called Sapphire’s ass. Bitch wasn’t going to arrest me twice. But all that shit had me thinking. If I were missing, who’d search for me? Who’d give a damn?
Benito’s tongue lapped out his mouth. That nigga was breathing with ease.
“Man, I’m taking time to enjoy the view. This ride is better than being at Six Flags over in Georgia. You know what, V?”
“What now, nigga? What? What?” Pointing at the shattered windshield, I yelled at his dumb ass, “This is not an amusement park thrill.”
Shaking his head, he slumped in the passenger seat.
Smack!
I hit his ass on the back of his neck. “You fucked up…again. Now we drivin’ around in a SUV with no fucking windshield. I should slam on my brakes. Send your silly ass straight to the moon.”
“Do I get a spaceship?”
Smack!
Benito massaged the nape of his neck. “I had a plan, V. I almost had her. I could tell by the way she stared at me. She couldn’t shoot me. She loves me. You gotta trust me on this. Lace got away but when my brother calls me back, he’ll lead us straight to her.”
Hurling a fist full of bullets through the missing windshield, I said, “Fuck that nigga Grant. He’s on her team, not ours. We can’t shoot his ass. We have ammunition and no fucking gun. How did you fuck that part up?”
“Past tense. Had ammunition. Had…Wasn’t my fault. The gun was too small for my hands,” he said, spreading his fingers. “Besides, I’ve never killed or shot anyone. I’m not going to jail like you. You already have pimping, pandering, and murder charges, man. You could possibly get…” Nigga counted on his fingers like a kindergartener. “You should’ve kept the gun. Yeah, you so hard. Why didn’t you shoot her?”
Nigga had me trippin’ and shit. I wanted him to man the fuck up. Kill Lace’s ass. I couldn’t shoot
Why didn’t you take out the trash, send me flowers, call me back, or invite me out? Why did you look at her? Is she prettier? Does she have bigger breasts, a better ass? Do you want her? “No.” Yes you do. “No I don’t.” Go be with her then. “Who are you talking about?” Her!
Women were born fucked up in the head. If they weren’t self-taught how to dog men, they eventually learned from haters. Women turned good men bad, bad men worse. Blame it on PMS: “I’m cramping.” Premenopause: “I forgot.” Menopause: “I’m hot.” Postmenopause: “I’m all dried up.” Always imbalanced and, shit, women were forever straight trippin’.
Red Velvet didn’t know me but the sick trick threatened me not to hurt Lace. Onyx professed she was trying to meet my monetary demand to save Lace’s life. I knew damn well Onyx couldn’t come up with fifty million without Lace’s approval. Bitch was stalling.
I had to keep shit moving. Find Lace. Get paid. Blaze the fuck up outta the ATL. Pause. Backtrack. Retrack. The ATL could do me righteous. Whores, strippers, and freaks were plentiful. I could open a new Immaculate Perception. Do it up Vegas style like my original spot with theme rooms and shit. Fuck. Lace arranged all that shit. Maybe I should apologize, talk her into coming back to work for a nigga. One thing at time. I had to stay focused.
Back to Lace. Her ass was too fucking brilliant to go home after we left her in the parking lot. And I wasn’t crazy enough to show up at her house again. Driving sixty, the light freeway traffic was decent. The hot wind blasted my face, making it hard to breathe. Covering my nose, I inhaled short breaths.
“Valentino James is nobody’s fool, B.”
Tricks told me to meet them at Stilettos, their turf, their time. Did they believe I was that stupid? Lace might show up. They’d probably called Sapphire’s ass. Bitch wasn’t going to arrest me twice. But all that shit had me thinking. If I were missing, who’d search for me? Who’d give a damn?
Benito’s tongue lapped out his mouth. That nigga was breathing with ease.
“Man, I’m taking time to enjoy the view. This ride is better than being at Six Flags over in Georgia. You know what, V?”
“What now, nigga? What? What?” Pointing at the shattered windshield, I yelled at his dumb ass, “This is not an amusement park thrill.”
Shaking his head, he slumped in the passenger seat.
Smack!
I hit his ass on the back of his neck. “You fucked up…again. Now we drivin’ around in a SUV with no fucking windshield. I should slam on my brakes. Send your silly ass straight to the moon.”
“Do I get a spaceship?”
Smack!
Benito massaged the nape of his neck. “I had a plan, V. I almost had her. I could tell by the way she stared at me. She couldn’t shoot me. She loves me. You gotta trust me on this. Lace got away but when my brother calls me back, he’ll lead us straight to her.”
Hurling a fist full of bullets through the missing windshield, I said, “Fuck that nigga Grant. He’s on her team, not ours. We can’t shoot his ass. We have ammunition and no fucking gun. How did you fuck that part up?”
“Past tense. Had ammunition. Had…Wasn’t my fault. The gun was too small for my hands,” he said, spreading his fingers. “Besides, I’ve never killed or shot anyone. I’m not going to jail like you. You already have pimping, pandering, and murder charges, man. You could possibly get…” Nigga counted on his fingers like a kindergartener. “You should’ve kept the gun. Yeah, you so hard. Why didn’t you shoot her?”
Nigga had me trippin’ and shit. I wanted him to man the fuck up. Kill Lace’s ass. I couldn’t shoot