I'm Still Wifey (3 page)

“Just get off her. She’s gon’ let your hair go,” her boyfriend said again.

“Look, I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to her,” I replied sarcastically as my head lay hunched over. And then out of nowhere I heard somebody yell out, “The police is coming!” I scrambled to my feet, giving Frances room to move. But she still had my hair gripped really tight in the palm of her hand.

“Look, I’m off you, so let my hair go,” I told Frances as calmly as I knew how. Even so, I knew she had the upper hand and could steal a couple of punches off me at will. But before she could say or do anything, the police siren got louder. And that’s when her boyfriend said, “Frances, you better come on before they roll up on you and find out you got a warrant.”

And just like that she let go of my hair. Then she and her boyfriend jumped into his car and drove off like they had just robbed a bank.

The police rolled up in the parking lot a few seconds later, and they drove up with force like they was gon’ really do something. But I wasn’t worried at all because the one person who could’ve gotten me locked up jetted off. So, I just stood there patting my hair. And then I started re-adjusting my clothes as I watched both police officers walk towards me.

“Ma’am, are you one of the two women reported to have been fighting out here?” the black male officer asked me.

“Yes, I am,” I told him as I combed my hair with my fingers.

“So, where is the other woman?”

“She got in a car with some guy and left.”

“What color and make was this vehicle?” the white officer stepped in and asked as he began to write what I was telling him down on his note pad.

“I don’t know what kind of car it was, but I do remember that it was dark-blue.”

“Did you know who this woman was?” The black officer wanted to know.

“Yeah, I know her.”

“Okay. Well, tell us why the altercation started?” the black officer’s questions continued.

Now, before I began to explain why me and Frances started fighting, I looked behind me and noticed a crowd of people standing around, watching me talking to the police, which was kind of funny.

I cracked a little smile and that’s when the white officer asked me, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, are you going to tell us what happened?” he continued.

“Look officers, I don’t mean no disrespect. But, all I was doing was standing in line waiting to order my food and that’s when that project chick got in my face and started talking madness.”

“What is her name?” the white officer wanted to know.

“Frances.”

“So, what happened next?” the white officer’s questions continued.

“Well, since I wasn’t trying to hear nothing she had to say, I just walked away from her. But she followed me outside to right here where we’re standing. And then she hit me so we started knucking.”

“Where did she hit you?” the black officer jumped back in and asked.

“Right here above my eye.” I pointed to my left eye.

“Would you like for us to call the paramedics?” the black officer continued.

“Nah. I’m straight. I mean it ain’t nothing but a lil scratch.”

“Well, do you wanna file charges against her?” the white officer interjected.

“I’m not sure. Can I think about it?”

“Well, are you sure you wanna do that? Because we can start the paperwork now,” the black officer intervened.

“Look officers, I’m aware of all of that. But right now, I’m really tired. And I’m ready to go home.”

“Well, when you decide that you want to go ahead and file charges against this woman Frances, who allegedly assaulted you, then this will be the case number I will file my report under.”

The black officer handed me his card with a number written on the back of it. I took the card, thanked them for their time and walked off towards my car.

Now from the angle I was walking, I could see both officers as they watched me get into my car. And I could also tell that they were saying something about my car because as I began to drive out of the parking lot, the white officer started writing something down onto his note pad. But I didn’t care, ’cause I kept right on riding. I figured if they ever wanted to catch up to me, all they had to do was run the tags from my car and stop by my crib later.

Still hyped up from everything that just went down, I wanted nothing else but to vent my frustrations, so I pulled out my cell phone and called my cousin Nikki.

“Where you at?” I asked her the second she answered her cell phone.

“Just getting in the house. Why?”

“Girl, you won’t believe what just happened to me a few minutes ago.”

“What happened?” Nikki asked me in an urgent manner.

“I almost went to jail.”

“How?”

“For trying to beat the brakes off Ricky’s baby mama, Frances.”

“Where?”

“In the parking lot of the Taco Bell off Independence and Virginia Beach Boulevard.”

“Wait! Now, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Tell me what happened?”

“Well, I had just walked into the joint and noticed Frances with some ol’ cornball ass nigga, leaving the front of the line because they had just got their food. And then they started walking in the direction I was standing. So, when she saw me, she walked over to me and called me a snitch, saying one of her girlfriends named Freda saw me coming from out of the FBI building right before Ricky got picked up by the Feds. So I told her to get outta my face with that bullshit because her girlfriend don’t know what the hell she’s talking about.”

“Now, how did her girlfriend see all that?”

“She said her friend cleans up the building right across the street from the FBI building.”

“Oh, shit! That’s not good.”

“Who the fuck you telling,” I commented in agitation.

“So, what else did she say?”

“Nothing, but that she was gon’ tell Ricky when he call her again.”

“Well, what did you do when she told you that?”

“I just told her she was crazy and walked away from her. But this hoe got real bold and started walking behind me. So when we got outside, I cussed her out and talked about her daughter and that’s when this bitch sucker punched me in my face.”

“What!? You’re lying!”

“No, I’m not, girl. And once I had realized this trick hit me, I stole her ass right dead in her face. And trust me, I went for blood ’cause her face was bleeding real bad after I buried my wedding ring in her skin.”

“So, what was she doing?”

“Nikki, she wasn’t doing nothing but talking shit! Because I couldn’t feel none of them soft-ass punches she was throwing at me.”

“Well, where was the guy she was with when all of this was going on?”

“He was in his car. But when he saw me standing over top of her and beating her ass, he decides that he wants to come to her rescue.”

“Well, what did he do?”

“He grabbed one of my arms and told me to get off of her. So I told him to get the fuck off of me. And while me and him was going back and forth, Frances reached up and grabbed a big hunk of my hair and started twisting it into a knot. So, I’m real mad now because I got a nigga who I don’t even know, holding my arm while some hoe I cannot stand got me bent over with a chunk of my hair wrapped up in the palm of her hand.”

“Girl, I sure wish I was there because that shit would not have went down like that.”

“I know. But it’s all good, ‘cause that hoe is gon’ see me again. And when she do, I’m gon’ bury her and her daughter’s stinking asses.”

Nikki laughed at my comment and then asked, “So, who broke y’all fight up?”

“It was nobody really. Because after somebody from the crowd yelled out and said, that the police was coming, I got up from off her. And that’s when her and her boyfriend jumped in his car and drove off.”

“Well, do you think she’s going to tell Ricky what her friend Freda told her?”

“Hell yeah! I mean, especially after what happened today.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, what do you think he gon’ say when she tells him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we’re gonna have to figure something out. Because I know him well enough to know that when he finds out what really went down, he’s gon’ wanna have something done to us.”

“Don’t worry ’bout that because that ain’t gon’ happen.”

“Well, since you know your husband better than I do, I’m going to let you run the show.”

“Yeah, let me do that,” I told Nikki and then I got quiet for a second because I was trying to collect my thoughts.

“Hey,” Nikki said to me, “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m a’ight.”

“Well, act like it. ’Cause you’re scaring the hell outta me.”

“Oh, shut up! Wit’cha dramatic ass!”

We both laughed but deep down inside, I knew she was somewhat scared because I was beginning to feel the same way. But, I ain’t gon’ panic. Everything will work out.

After Mail Call

At mail today, the C.O. gave me a kite from Sunshine. I went on back into my cell and climbed onto my bunk for some privacy. In the kite, she started saying how much she loves me. And that she missed the times when we was on the streets. And how we use to take weekend trips and fuck the whole time. The letter also said that her lawyer found a couple of loopholes in her case, so they filed for an appeal to get her sentence overturned, which looked real good. And that if she’s granted immediate release, then she’s gon’ get out and start working on getting my case back in court, too.

Now I ain’t gon’ front, ’cause all that shit she’s talking sounds real sweet to a player-ass nigga like me. But I know that as soon as that hoe hits the free world, everything gon’ change real quick. So my best bet is to try and get Kira back on my team. She’s the only woman in my life who’ll make sure shit is straight with me. But now, since she done found out about me and Sunshine, I know it’s gon’ be real hard trying to re-recruit her and get her back on the grind. I just hope that she don’t take too long to come to her senses, ‘cause right now, the clock is ticking. And I sho’ would hate to sic my street soldiers on her. But that’s just how shit rolls with me. I mean, you’re either with me or you’re against me. And that’s just how the game is played. Now, don’t get me wrong, because I love the fuck outta my wife, Kira, even though I got a shitty way of showing it. And I know I could’ve done shit a lot different, but that’s just how I’m built. I ain’t no Romeo type of cat. I’ma gangsta-ass nigga. I’m raw and a killer at will. So, the way I showed my love is by making sho’ she had everything she wanted, plus some. That’s why she was living at the castle, driving a $40,000 whip, with a slew of fucking minks and fur coats hanging in her closet, plus a nice-ass diamond collection. And then on top of that, I kept her in the Saks and Bloomies gear.

I mean, it wasn’t nothing for her to cop four or five pairs of shoes by Jimmy Choo, with the bags to match. And that’s because she’s Wifey. But she said that wasn’t enough, which is why I always got static when I wanted to go out to the strip club or bounce out of town with a couple of my squad members. Kira knew what time it was. And trust me, I paid for it. Because it seemed like every time she found a new phone number stashed away in my car, or found out I had some new chick pregnant, my stash kept getting smaller and smaller. She thought I was stupid, but I knew what time it was too. And she found out later that I knew she knew it. So, it’s all good. Now, all I’m focusing on is trying to find a way to get outta this joint. Watching all these clown-ass niggas in here makes me feel like I’m in a fucking circus. Especially when I hear them beasting about all the shit they had when they was on the bricks, when I know they ain’t had shit.

Most of them crab-ass niggas was either a hot boy, or a watch-out. I mean, come on dawg! Who the fuck wants to keep hearing that bullshit over and over again? Because it damn sho’ ain’t me. So, if this shit don’t stop soon, I’m gon’ have to make an example outta one of these bitch-ass niggas in here. And it might be real soon.

“Yo, Rick,” my cellmate walked up to me and said, “If you going to the chow hall, you better come on now dawg, ’cause niggas is lining up at the gate.”

“Nah, Bossman, I’m straight. I’ma chill out here and eat a Cup-a-Soup or something.”

“A’ight, baby boy,” Bossman replied and then I watched him as he walked outta our cell.

Now, me and him done been cellmates from the day I was put in here. So, he’s the only cat I fucks with . His real name is Leonard Marshall from P-Town, Portsmouth, VA. This nigga used to be the top man in the Brick City Crew. Yeah, them cats use to get plenty of paper, pumping out the greenery.

I heard they had shit going strong for six years until one of his squad members got real careless and sold ten pounds of Silver Haze to an undercover narco. And then when homeboy got cornered in that steel room by himself with them crackers, he cried like a fucking baby which is how shit went up in smoke for them. So, everybody who dealt with that clown directly fell down in the line of fire. And even though Bossman was at the top of the chopping block, he got off easy with a five year sentence. He’ll be out of this joint in four since it’s state time. His homeboy got off with only two pies.

Lucky for him. I just wish I was serving a small-ass bid like that. Having the judge throw a life sentence at me without parole just ain’t sitting right with me. So, something’s got to give. I refuse to sit up in here for the rest of my life. It’s just not going to happen. Not while I’m alive and breathing.

“Last call for chow, if anybody else is going,” an old, white female C.O. yelled out loud, so that the whole block could hear her. But nobody said nothing because the block was empty, except for me.

So, when she said, “All right, I guess this is it,” and started locking up the gate, I jumped up from my bunk and said, “Hey C.O., you think you can take me to medical?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” she told me.

“Why?” I wanted to know.

“Because I don’t work on this floor. I’m just filling in until C.O. Bivens comes back from her lunch break. But I’ll let C.O. Hopkins know, since he’s still on the floor.”