Hustlin' Divas (24 page)

My good mood slips a notch. “See, bitches like you don't know a good thing when it's fuckin' staring you in the face,” I tell her, strolling closer to the bed. “Frankly, up until you pulled that stunt at the salon, I ain't had a problem with your pink mafia ass. But after that shit, well, we had ourselves a situation. Didn't we?”

“Fuck you. I should've plugged your ass when I had the chance.”

“Yeah. You should have.” I slide my gun up her right leg and then stop when it reaches the V where she wishes her dick was. “When you get to hell, tell the devil I said hello.” Without blinking, I dump the rest of my clip straight into her pussy.

I
miss Baby like crazy. I figured that by now we would've buried the hatchet and moved the fuck on. But I ain't seen hide or tail of her since she stormed out of my momma's house. And it ain't because I haven't tried to find her; I've been bugging every corner boy and chicken head I've come across, trying to find the block she's holding down. Nobody knows shit, or if they do, then they ain't telling my ass.

I ain't got the nerve to ask Python. Niggas already been gossiping about Baby and me being lovers or some shit. It's a headache and I'm hoping Python is ignoring the shit when it drips into his ear. He done already made it clear that if he's fuckin' with me, then it means my pussy is closed for business for all other niggas—bitches included, I guess.

He has different rules for his own dick. When he ain't in my bed, I know he's slinging his shit hard to LeShelle and probably that other chick who interrupted us in his office that one time. But that's all right. I ain't going to be the bottom bitch for long.

I ain't forgot about that slick clowning shit LeShelle did to me at FabDivas—not by a long shot. Just as soon as I drop Python's newest seed, I'll be set and I can get my babies; then me and that bitch will resolve our situation. Ole girl may have beat my ass once, but, believe me, that bitch ain't gonna catch me slippin' again.

My new place is the shit. A fly studio off Madison Avenue that's way better than that roach-infested Shotgun Row. No doubt Python must be feeling this pussy all the way down to his muthafuckin' toes if he coming out the pocket to stash me here. I just wish I could celebrate with my best friend, but…

I choke up, surprised by a sudden rush of sadness.

I pick up my phone and dial Baby's cell. Who knows, maybe this time she'll answer. The line rings and rings, but just when I'm about to disconnect the call, I hear the line pick up.

“Baby?” A strange laugh tumbles over the line. “Baby?”

“I found you, bitch,” a woman says, and then disconnects the call.

“Who the fuck?” I pull the phone away from my ear and stare it. Was that who I thought it was? I hit
REDIAL
, but then my doorbell rings and I hang up with the promise to try Baby a little later. Right now, I need to take care of my man.

I check my figure in the mirror and think I still look good, even with my small baby bump. I wrap a sheer white robe around my shoulders and stroll to the front door. One glance through the peephole and I know it's showtime.

“Damn. What took you so long?” Python asks, pimp walking across the threshold and slapping me hard on the ass. “You got another nigga up in here somewhere?”

I roll my eyes. “How come you always ask that shit when you ride through? You know I ain't got nobody else up in here.” I shut the door behind him.

“Don't worry about why I always ask. You just make sure you got the right fuckin' answer.” He strolls through, checking shit out like he doesn't believe my ass ain't creeping.

“You hungry, baby? I can fix you something to eat.” I head to the kitchen. Every Southern bitch knows that you can throw pussy at a nigga all day long, but the true way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

“What you got?”

“I got some short ribs, collards and mac and cheese,” I boast. I can hear that nigga practically run up behind me.

“For real?”

“Uh-huh.” I grab a plate out of the cabinet and start fixing him something to eat. This nigga is all up behind me, opening pot lids and sniffing my shit.

“Fuck, Yo-Yo. I think niggas been given you a bum break. Your ass got skills.” He smacks his lips.

“It's all for you, baby. Just remember that shit.” I pop a healthy hunk of homemade (not from no damn box) mac and cheese on his plate. “Here you go, boo. You want a beer?”

“Hell yeah.” He takes his food and heads off to the living room.

I go to the refrigerator, pop the top off a cold one, and then meet him over on the couch. “How is it?” I ask, knowing my shit is hitting the spot.

“This shit is good,” he says with a stuffed mouth. “A nigga could get used to some shit like this.”

I keep smiling while I lean against him. “That's what I'm here for—to spoil you.”

His fat lips twist up into a smile. I'm starting to think there's a sexiness to his ugliness. That shit sounds crazy but it's true. I reach for the TV remote control and put it on ESPN so he can catch the latest basketball scores. Trust that I'm doing everything I can to make sure that when he comes here to our crib, he ain't stressing about nothing. I just smile and watch his big ole lips smack over his food. Twenty minutes later, there ain't shit on his plate but bones. My ego is a fucking monster, and I love the fact that he's now pushing up on my titties and testing the wetness of my pussy.

I giggle and tease. “You ready for dessert, baby?”

“A nigga like me can always eat.” He rolls me onto my stomach and spreads my ass cheeks open. “Look at this nice, fat ass.”

He bends forward and glides that wet, forked tongue down the crack of my ass. I ain't gonna lie—that shit feels good as hell.

“Get on your knees.”

I hop up and toot my shit up high. Python's tongue does a Dumpster dive and squeegee cleans every inch of me. My pussy juice gushes down my thighs. I know what's next, and I try to prepare myself, but I don't think anyone can really prepare for this nigga's fat mushroom-shaped cock turning their asshole into a fuckin' crime scene. The shit hurts. The trick is not to let the muthafucka know it. Actually, most of the shit we do hurts like hell. The choking, the spanking, and the occasional bag suffocation ain't like no shit I've ever done, and truth be told I just put all the shit in Jesus's hands and pray that the sadistic muthafucka don't accidentally kill my ass.

“Ahh. Shit. Your shit is so fuckin' tight,” he growls, grabbing a handful of my hair and yanking my head back. I gasp while stars dance before my eyes.

“You love this dick, don't you, bitch?”

“Y-yes!”

He's balls deep and slow grinding. “You'll do anything for this dick, won't you? Over here cooking and shit. Sssss. Fuck.”

I block out the pain and slam my ass down so hard I'm trying to break that dick.

“Yeah, bitch! Do that shit! Sssss.”

I got that dick on the run now.

“I'm gonna nut up in this fat bitch,” he promises. “Yeah. Sssss.”

We keep at it until I feel his hot cum shoot up my ass and then spray all over my back. Even then I keep wiggling and jiggling while he uses his dick to smear it all over my back.

“Get over here and suck this shit off,” he orders.

I hop on that shit quick while he continues to playfully tug on my hair and make sure that I do a good job. “You like that, baby?”

“It's a'ight,” he jokes.

“Just a'ight?” I sit up and push him on his chest. “You ain't gonna tell me you get it like this at home. I can't even imagine LeShelle's ass cooking.”

“See. You're worried about the wrong muthafuckin' thing. You just keep things tight over here and everything will stay good.”

“Uh-huh.” I cross my arms. I don't like how he still takes up for that bitch. It means that she still got her claws in good with his ass. Most niggas can't wait to start bitching what they girl or wifey ain't doing at home.
She stopped sucking my dick. She won't fuck when she's on her period. The bitch only cooks shit that goes in the microwave.
On and on. But Python never says shit about what goes on with him and LeShelle. It makes me wonder why his ass is even messing with me if everything is cool at the crib. However, tonight I'm determined to get some answers.

“So how come you and LeShelle ain't had no babies?” I lean against his chest but continue to stroke his dick. “Y'all been together for a hot minute.”

“Sssss. Ooh. That feels nice.”

I roll my eyes. I know this nigga hears me. “Can she even have babies? Is her belly rotten or something?”

He yanks my head back. “What the fuck? Why the hell are you all in our business?”

“I…I'm was just curious,” I croak, and then wait for him to release my head. He glares at me for a while and then pushes me away.

“I would've thought you learned your lesson trying to fuck with LeShelle. She almost stomped your ass into the ground a little while back, didn't she?”

“I ain't fuckin' with her. I was just asking you a question. That's all.”

He laughs at me. “You trying to fuck with her. I ain't stupid. I know how y'all bitches work. Let me just give you a little bit of advice: stay the hell in your lane. You got some good ass, you can throw down in the kitchen, and that may or may not be my muthafuckin' seed you got growing in that belly, but this shit here”—he gestures between us—“this ain't got shit on what the fuck I got at home.”

I'm fucking blinking at this muthafuka like I'm stuck on stupid.
What the fuck did he just say?

He laughs. “What? I'm just keeping it real so there ain't no misunderstanding. You're a sideline ho and you're always gonna be a sideline ho. Period.”

“What? How the fuck you gonna say some foul shit like that to me?”

“Yo. You knew I had a wifey when you started slobberin' up on this dick. So don't be sweating me and acting stupid. I upgraded your situation, and right now you should be thanking my ass.”

“Thank you?”

“Bitch, I got you off that pole, and I'm paying the bills up in this muthafucka. You got a problem with that shit, you can pack up and I'll move the next bitch up here who knows how to appreciate shit and stay in her fuckin' lane. And staying in that lane means that you stop trying to floss in front of my girl, 'cause I ain't gonna be responsible if she turns your ass into a grease stain.”

I'm blinking again.

“So stop asking me about shit that ain't got nothing to do with your ass. All you need to know about my girl is that she don't fuck around and she ain't scared of shit. Now consider your ass warned. Stay in your lane.”

“I
can't believe that you shot that bitch's cunt out!” Pit Bull howls as we cruise down Parkway, heading out to the Blue Daisy to shake our asses. “What the fuck made you think of some foul-ass shit like that?”

“Shit. It just seemed like the right thing to do.” I laugh, checking my reflection in the mirror. My shit still look fly—not a hair out of place.

“I don't know.” Pit Bull shakes her head. “I'd haunt a bitch down for the rest of her muthafuckin' life if she sent me to the spirit world without my pussy. Sheeeit. My pussy done got me through some tough muthafuckin' times.”

“You're preaching now.” Kookie holds her hands up and waves them around like she's in the middle of church.

“Sheeit. Like Jacki-O says, Pussy pays my bills.”

I crack up. “Y'all bitches ain't shit.”

“You ain't either, ho. Now why the fuck you take that bitch's phone?” Kookie asks. “If we were gonna be boosting, there was a whole lot of nice shit in that apartment.”

“That bitch Yolanda called and her number showed up,” I tell them. “It's like God is smiling down on me tonight.”

“Damn. You gonna track the girl down like the fuckin' FBI?” Pit Bull shakes her head. “Girl, you really ain't nothing to fuck with.”

Blue and white lights flash in my rearview, and my foot eases up off the accelerator. “Fuck!”

“Aww shit.” Pit Bull tosses her hands up. “How the fuck?”

“Be cool. Be cool,” I tell them, pulling over.

“What the fuck you pulling over for? You actin' like we ain't just capped a bitch.”

“Will you calm the fuck down?”

“Man, I can't be getting locked up tonight. My momma ain't gonna bail my ass out no more, and I ain't got no more strikes to play with,” Pit Bull whines.

“Shut the fuck up!” Shit. This big bitch is riding my nerves.

Kookie doesn't say shit. She just eases back in her seat with her hand on her gat, ready for anything and everything. Now, she's the type of bitch I like riding with.

“Hand me my purse,” I tell Pit Bull, since she's in the passenger seat. I grab my driver's license and my insurance card while I watch a female officer creep up to the driver's side. “Good evening, Officer. What seems to be the problem?”

I swing my gaze over and a surge of recognition hits me. This is the bitch cop whose patrol car I jacked months ago.

“License and proof of insurance,” the cop says, completely ignoring my question. She's looking at me like she may be remembering that night.

I hand over my information and then tap my manicured nails on the steering wheel.

“Do you know why I pulled you over?”

Didn't I just ask this bitch…? “No, Officer.”

“You were doing sixty in a forty-five,” she says.

I sigh in relief. “Oh. I'm sorry about that. I guess I must've pulled my eyes off the speedometer.” I meet the cop's unsmiling eyes and know my ass is just seconds away from getting a ticket.

“Hey, don't I know you?” Kookie asks from the backseat.

I swear I want to stab Kookie in the throat now.

The cop's gaze shifts to the back as she shines her flashlight in Kookie's face.

“Yeah. Yeah. You used to go to Morris High School. You're that supercop's daughter who used to date Python back in the day.” Kookie laughs. “I thought I heard you became a cop, too.”

What the fuck?
My gaze sweeps this bitch again, 'cause this is the first I've heard about Python dating some cop. Why didn't I know this?

Pit Bull and Kookie throw up our gang signs, and the bitch's expression doesn't change.

“Wait right here.”

The cop turns and walks back to her patrol car with my cards. I watch her the whole time, and I'm able to make out that the chick has a nice frame on her. “How long ago was this bitch with Python?” I ask.

“Sheeit. Looong long time ago,” Kookie says. “Like I said, it was high school.”

That shit should relax me, but it don't. “Why they break up?”

“Who the hell knows? She never really was down for the set. I think she was just fuckin' with Python to piss her bigshot daddy off.”

“Hell, I think they even got a kid,” Pit Bull adds.

Now my mood is fucked up. “That bitch is one of Python's baby mommas?”

“Sheeit. Those bitches are all around this city.”

“Damn, Kookie!” Pit Bull snaps. “How you just gonna talk about our girl's man like that in front of her? Shit.”

“What?” She shrugs with a half laugh. “I ain't saying shit everybody don't already know. The nigga gets around.”

I'm fucking hot under the collar now, but the bitch ain't doing nothing but telling the gospel. Everywhere I turn, I'm running into these muthafuckin' grimy cockroaches. It's like I can't fuckin' breathe.

“I wouldn't worry about it,” Pit Bull says. “That shit is like ancient history. So the bitch may have squeezed out one of his seeds. So fuckin' what? His ass is with you. You fuckin' breast-feeding his ass now. Long as he's still finding his ass back home, I say your ass is good.”

But he's finding his ass home less and less,
I think to myself.

The cop slides out from behind her wheel and takes her sweet-ass time making it back up to me. I know I need to play this shit cool, but I have so many emotions rolling through me right now; I feel like I'm just seconds from flipping the script.

“I need you to sign here and here,” she says, pointing to the two X'd spots on the ticket.

“Shit. You wrote me up?” I ask, incredulous.

“You were going fifteen miles over the speed limit. Be thankful I'm not hauling your ass in.”

I side eye her hard. “What? I can't get no share-a-nigga discount?”

My girls snicker.

“Ms. Murphy, I suggest you calm down,” the officer says. “If you want to dispute the ticket, your court date is printed on the ticket. Now sign.”

I'm twitching and my clit is thumping, but this bitch is holding my gaze like she fuckin' wishes I would start some shit. The car grows quiet as my girls wait to see how I want to play this shit. Finally, I take a deep breath, snatch the clipboard and pen, and sign and initial my name. I also take the time to read her name at the bottom of the ticket. “Here you go, Officer Melanie Johnson.”

The cop cocks a half grin and rips the yellow copy of the ticket out and hands it over to me. “You take it easy now…and tell Terrell I said hi.” She pats her stomach, and my eyes damn near bug the fuck out when I notice a small lump before she strolls off.

“Is that bitch…?” I turn toward Pit Bull to ask whether she just saw what I did, but my girl's mouth is hanging wide open.

Kookie starts cracking up in the backseat. “See? What I tell you? Baby mommas everywhere.”