I'm Still Wifey (2 page)

“I’m fine. But what I wanna know is, why you didn’t come back to work today?”

Rhonda sighed heavily and said, “Kira, if I could kill Tony and get away with it, I would do it.”

“What happened now?”

“Girl, I caught this nigga talking to some hoe named Letisha on his cell phone.”

“Where was he at?”

“He was in the bathroom, sitting on the fucking toilet, taking a shit.”

I laughed at Rhonda’s comment and asked her what happened next.

“Well, before I busted in on him and smacked him upside his damn head with my shoe, I stood very quiet in the hallway right outside our bedroom and heard this bastard telling that hoe how much he missed her and that he was going to get his hair cut at the barbershop. And right after I heard him say that, that’s when I went off.”

“So, what did he do?”

“He couldn’t do shit with his pants wrapped around his ankles. So, he just sat there and took all them blows I threw at his ass. And then when he dropped his cell phone, I hurried up and snatched it right off the floor and cussed that bitch out royally.”

“And what did she say?”

“I ain’t let her say shit. ’Cause after I told her who I was and that if I ever caught her in Tony’s face, she was gonna get fucked up, I hung up.”

“So, what was Tony doing while you was going off on that hoe?”

“Trying to hurry up and wipe his ass, so he can get up from the toilet and I guess take his phone back. But as soon as the bastard stood up to flush the stool, I threw his phone right up against the wall as hard as I could and broke that bad boy in about ten little pieces.”

I laughed again and said, “Damn girl! That’s some shit I used to do.”

“Well, jackass didn’t see it coming. So, it made it all the better.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“In the kitchen helping Ryan with his homework.”

“So, did he ever go out and get his hair cut?”

“Hell nah. Shit, he knew better.”

“Well, what kind of lies did he tell you about everything that happened?”

“Girl, that nigga ain’t gon’ volunteer no information. All he had to say was that I was crazy as hell. And then he went on about his damn business.”

“Rhonda,” I said before I sighed, “I know you’re sick and tired of going through all that bullshit! Because I sure was when Ricky was on the streets.”

“Hey wait,” Rhonda interjected, “I forgot to tell you that he called the shop today while you was at lunch.”

“Did you accept the call?”

“Yeah. But we only talked for a few minutes.”

“What did he say?”

“He just wanted to know where you was and when was you coming in. So, I told him that you wasn’t. And that’s when he asked me to call you on three-way. But I told him the three-way call thing wasn’t working.”

“I bet he got real mad, didn’t he?”

“Hell yeah!”

“So, what did he say after that?”

“Nothing but to tell you he called. And for me to tell you to come down to the county jail and see him before the U.S. Marshal picks him up and takes him off to the Federal Holding Facility in Oklahoma, because he has something very important to talk with you about.”

“Well, he should already know that it ain’t gon’ happen. But, I am wondering what he’s got so important to talk to me about.”

“Girl, he’s just probably saying that so he can get you to come down and see him.”

“Yeah. You probably right,” I agreed.

“Well, are you going to ever tell him that you’re pregnant by Russ?” Rhonda blurted out of the blue.

“Nope. It ain’t none of his damn business. All he needs to focus on is signing those divorce papers my lawyer is getting ready to send his ass.”

“So, you’re serious about that, huh?”

“You damn right!” I commented and then I said, “I’m gonna get that nigga outta my life once and for all, so I can move on.”

“Look, I understand all that. But I wouldn’t let his ass get off that easy. Because the next time he calls the shop, I would make it my business to wreck his muthafucking ego and tell him, ‘Yeah nigga, while you was running around behind my back with Sunshine’s stinking ass, I was fucking your boy Russ right in your bed. And I just found out that I’m pregnant by him.’”

“Oh my God! That’ll kill him!”

“That’s the idea,” Rhonda told me.

I said, “Girl, that nigga gon’ try and come through the phone after I tell him some shit like that.”

“Well, no need to worry ’bout that. ’Cause it ain’t gon’ happen.” Before I could comment, she told me to hold on because somebody was beeping in on her other line. When she clicked over, it got real quiet. But just like that, she was right back on the line and said, “Hey girl, one of Tony’s homeboys is on the other end trying to holler at him. So, let me call you back.”

“A’ight,” I told her. Then we both hung up.

Choice to Make

“Hello, ladies,” is the first thing I said when I walked through the front door of my shop.

“Hey,” everybody replied in unison.

“Anybody called me?” I asked loud enough for Rhonda and my other two stylists, Porsha and April, to hear me.

Porsha answered, “Nah, I don’t think so.” Then she went outside the shop to smoke a cigarette. She’s a cool girl and really pretty, looking like Jada Pinkett-Smith’s twin. But of course, she’s a new jack. She started working here two weeks after I came back. She’s also very young. She says she’s twenty-one, but she acts like she’s about sixteen sometimes, especially when it comes to cleaning up behind herself. Rhonda gets on her all the time about keeping her station area clean. I’m always sitting back, watching. Oh, but I did step in the mix of things a couple of times when booth rent was due. Porsha kept giving Rhonda the runaround, so I stepped up to the plate and that hoe handed over the dough. Recently, it has become clear that the two don’t like each other, so it won’t be long before she’s outta here. Now April, on the other hand, is crazy. I mean, buck wild, but Rhonda and I know where she’s coming from. She’s your average-looking chick with a tabletop ass. Mad cats be trying to holler at her. But once they find out she’s got a house full of kids, they do not stick around long at all. That’s why she’s always hanging out at a nightclub. Her favorite spot is Sugar Ray’s off Military Highway. And like a devoted patron, she’s there every time the doors open. But once that part of her life is put to a halt she’s right back here, whipping up the fly-ass hairstyles. “Oh yeah,” April broke out and said, “Your client Ms. Gladys and her daughter been here.”

“Did she say she was coming back?” I asked as I began to plug in all of my curling irons and hot plate.

“Yeah. She said she was just going to go and get something to eat.”

“A’ight,” I said and then I signaled one of my clients who was sitting in the waiting room to walk over to the washbowl.

“Come on, Tina,” I instructed her. “Whatcha getting done?” I asked her once she was standing directly in front of me.

“I want you to make me a short wig with a Mohawk.”

“What kind of hair did you get?”

“Two packs of twenty-seven pieces,” she told me. I told her to sit down and that’s when I started working on her hair, which didn’t take long at all to hook up. Once she was out of the way, I hammered away at my other five clients for the day and before I knew it I was done and out of the door.

From the shop, I decided to go home but I needed something to put on my stomach, so I stopped at the Taco Bell off the corner of Virginia Beach Boulevard and Independence. To my surprise, I saw Ricky’s baby mama Frances standing in line with some ol’ cornball-ass nigga, ordering herself some food. Now from the looks of things, nothing about her had changed in the past two months. She still held the crown for the “ Knock off Queen.” As I stood and watched her parade around this guy, with her jacked-up weaved hairdo, wearing a pair of Crest jeans, some ordinary-looking shirt, and a fake-ass Gucci bag draped over her bony-ass shoulders.

On the other hand, her boyfriend was cute and he looked all right. Even though them brand new LeBron James sneakers he had on were a year old. And now that I could see him a little closer, he was definitely a new breed. His mannerisms told me that he had to be in the military. Now I say this because street niggas wear their jeans at least two to four sizes bigger than their norm. But this cat’s attire fit him to a tee. Yeah, ’cause the more and more I think about it this cat gotta be a boat boy. Street cats don’t pull all their dough outta their pocket at once unless their asses is being robbed. So, I cannot see this dummy being nothing else.

Right after their food was handed to them, they both turned around to leave. Now, only after taking just one step, Frances noticed that I was standing only a few feet away from them. And I’ve got to admit that her facial expression turned really sour. She wasn’t trying to hide it either. But it didn’t faze me at all because the closer she got to me, the bigger my fake smile got.

“Hello, stranger,” I said in a cheerful way. But she didn’t crack a smile when she said, “I heard you did some foul ass shit!”

“What cha’ talking about?” I wanted to know.

“I’ma be in the car,” her male friend interjected before she could speak. As he walked out of Taco Bell, I asked her again what was she talking about?

“Don’t play stupid,” she replied sarcastically.

“What the fuck you mean, ‘don’t play stupid?’” I snapped back.

She stepped closer to me and said, “One of my peoples just told me they saw you coming outta the FBI Building right before Ricky got picked up from the Feds.”

Ahh shit! I said to myself. Now what the fuck am I gonna do now? My thoughts continued as I stood in front of this project chick.

“So, it must be true.”

“Oh no, honey. That information you got is totally false.”

“Yeah, that’s what your mouth say. But I know my girl Freda ain’t lying, ’cause, she cleans up the building right across the street from the FBI building, so I know she saw you.”

“Look, I don’t give a fuck what your friend Freda said. I know I haven’t ever been in the FBI building, much less went in there right before Ricky got locked up. So what you and your friend need to do is find somebody else to talk about. Because right now, you don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I know what I’m talking about,” she retaliated in a hostile way. “And as soon as Ricky calls me again, I’m gon’ tell him that your trifling ass is a fucking snitch!”

“Look, bitch! I ain’t no snitch! So you better watch your mouth!”

“And if I don’t?” Frances responded intending to press my buttons.

I put my hands up in her face and said, “Let me go before I give your ass a beat down in here.”

I headed out of the restaurant. But Frances wasn’t trying to hear that. This hoe started walking behind me, brewing up more commotion, saying, “Yeah, you’re doing right by carrying your stuck-up ass out of here. Because if you think you can beat my ass, then you got to be crazy.”

I stopped in my tracks and turned towards her. “Frances, all jokes aside, you don’t want none of me. Because whether you know it or not, I’ve been holding plenty of shit back for a very long time, trying to keep from killing you, bitch! And this was done on the strength of my husband because he asked me to keep the peace at a good level so he can see his grown-ass daughter.”

“Bitch!” Frances screamed, cutting me off in mid-sentence. “Don’t be bringing my daughter in this .”

She threw a punch at me and it landed right over my left eye.

“You fucking bitch!” I screamed as loud as I could after feeling the sting of the blow. I didn’t stop there because after I pulled my hand away from my eye to see if it was bleeding, I jumped dead on her stinky ass.

I hit her ass back as hard as I could with my left fist. I hit her with this hand because I wanted to leave the imprint of the huge rocks in my wedding ring on her face. This ended up becoming a beautiful sight as I watched the blood pour down her face. But since I didn’t get enough satisfaction outta that, I grabbed Frances by the shirt and slammed her down onto this red car parked right next to where we were standing. You should’ve seen her trying to throw them weak-ass punches at me. But, them little-ass blows didn’t faze me at all. To try to get the best of her, I grabbed her by her throat and began to choke the hell outta her.

“Yeah! You thought you was gon’ beat my ass, huh? But I fooled the hell outta your trick ass!” I screamed.

“Bitch, you ain’t doing shit but holding me down! You ain’t got no fighting game for real,” Frances managed to say while I kept a tight grip around her neck.

Now, I ain’t gon’ front, this chick had balls. I mean, here I was, standing over her, trying to choke the daylights out of her and she’s still talking shit to me.

At that moment I figured out that the only way I was going to get her to shut up was to beat the brakes off her ass. That’s when I took one of my hands from around her neck and tried to bless that ass right across her again, but her punk-ass boyfriend came from outta nowhere and grabbed me by my damn arm.

“You better get the fuck off me!” I screamed on him as nasty as I could.

“Nah, home girl, you need to get off her,” he replied aggressively.

While this nigga had my attention for a bit, Frances reached up and grabbed a handful of my hair and began to twist it in a fucking knot.

Now I had just got my shit sewed in, so you know I wasn’t prepared for this. So, to keep this hoe from pulling all my damn hair out, I tried to lower my head. But it seemed like the more I gave in, the more she tried to pull it. And that’s when I said, “Frances, let go of my hair!”

“Get off me first,” she demanded.

“Yeah, get off of her,” her boyfriend told me once again as he continued to hold onto my arm. I snatched my arm right out of his hand and told him, “Don’t grab me no muthafucking more! Now, tell her to let my hair go and I’ll get off of her.”

“Bitch, you must think I’m stupid!” Frances commented with a smirk on her face. And from that point, I knew I wouldn’t be able to get her to let go of my hair unless I got off her first. I told her, “Look, I’ma get off you, but you gon’ have to let go of my hair at the same time.”