Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang (38 page)

“Girrrl, this not cussin’ shi…uh, mess is gonna be a real struggle for me.”

“Puhleeze, tell me ’bout it.”

“How’s Allstar doin?” I tell ’er he’s aiight. “Did you tell ’im you wasn’t rockin’ wit’ ’im no more?”

I nod. “Not in so many words. But I think he knows.” She shakes ’er head. “What?”

She twists ’er lips. “Nuthin’. When’s he gonna get outta da
hospital?” I tell ’er he’ll be there for at least anotha week or so from what his moms told me. “Oh, okay.” She pauses. Tells me she’s gonna come to Jersey tomorrow and stay the night.

I roll my eyes. “What Divine do now?”

She laughs. “He ain’t do nuthin’. He’s actin’ like he got some sense this week.”

“Whateva, trick. You da one wit’out any sense.”

She keeps laughin’. “Oh, and you should talk. There’s a muh—” I shoot ’er a look—“a man layin’ up in a hospital room who you know you diggin’ and who you know is diggin’ you. And you dump ’im. What kinda sense is that?”

“It’s common sense, ho. Sumthin’ you obviously don’t have.”

The white nurse on duty catches my eye. She smiles and gives me a slight nod of the head as if she knows exactly what the hell I’m talkin’ ’bout. We sit up at the hospital for a few hours wit’ Zaire ’til Chanel decides to bounce. I tell ’er I’ma check for ’er in the mornin’. She already know what it is. A bitch ain’t goin’ no damn where tonight.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Some things ain’t meant to be…a smart bitch gotta know when ta dip…lookin’ at muhfuckas suspiciously…gotta know when ta cash in da chips…gotta be ready ta change peoples ’n places…see da world thru different eyes…now I gotta baby ta raise…finally I realize…it’s time for a bitch ta change ’er ways…

“O
hhhmiiiigod, Kat, I am so damn happy for you,” Chanel says, as we walk outta family court. The judge has given me legal guardianship of Zaire. And today is the day he’s bein’ released from the hospital—to
me
.

After almost two-and-a-half months of bein’ in the hospital, I can finally bring ’im home. He weighs almost seven pounds. On some real shit, goin’ up to the hospital e’eryday watchin’ that lil’ boy fight for his life, made a bitch really start lookin’ at shit sideways. A lot’a times I wasn’t sayin’ shit, but I was constantly thinkin’ it. A bitch gotta do better, not just for me, but for him. The first time I held ’im in my arms, he got up in a bitch’s heart, and I knew. I knew that that lil’ sexy muhfucka was gonna have me wrapped ’round his lil’ fingas.

“Girrrrrl, I know you are glad this shit is finally ova. How you feel?” I don’t have the words to describe what or how I’m feelin’.
Most of what I’m feelin’ is new to me. And it’s startin’ to feel overwhelmin’. I take a deep breath, shakin’ my head. I stop walkin’, cuppin’ my face wit’ my hands. I’m all choked up. The minute Chanel hugs me, I start sobbin’. A bitch is scared and excited and nervous. But, most importantly, I am ready—ready for change, ready for the new experience, ready to love. “Hooker,” she says, huggin’ me tighter, “you ain’t gotta say a word. I already know. C’mon, let’s get to da hospital to get ya…uh,
our
, baby.”

I pull myself together wipin’ my face and blowin’ my nose, then walk arm in arm with Chanel to the car. As soon as we get in and drive off toward the hospital, I look ova at Chanel and say, “Bitch, I need’a blunt. What you got good?”

She starts laughin’, pullin’ out ’er stash bag. “Ho, I’m already on it.” She sparks it up, takes two pulls, then passes it to me. “Whew, this some good shit, right here,” she says, holdin’ ’er chest. She slowly blows out the smoke. “This da kinda shit that make a bitch wanna fuck’a horse.”

“Chanel, ya ass is so damn stooopid.”

“No, fa real. Have you seen how big they dicks are? Whew! Divine and I was watchin’ porn da otha night—”

I start coughin’ and chokin’. “Bitch, say it ain’t so. Tell me ya ho ass ain’t tryna get it in wit’ animals, too.”

“Ewww, no, bitch,” she says, laughin’. “I was gettin’ ready to tell you, before I was rudely interrupted, that there was this nigga in the movie wit’ a dick like a horse’s. It was ridiculous. And da bitch he was fuckin’ was takin’ that shit like a real champion.”

I tilt my head. “Bitch, pass me da blunt. What da fuck that got ta do wit’ ya freak-ass wantin’ ta fuck a horse?”

She busts out laughin’. “I ain’t tryna fuck no horse. It was a figure of speech.”

I grunt, handin’ the blunt back to ’er. “Yeah right. That’s not what you said.”

“Whateva,” she huffs, takin’ a pull. I let the shit go ’cause I don’t care who she wants to fuck. I decide to tell ’er that after today I’m givin’ up blazin’. Well, uh, I’ma try. Shit, today’s my first day sparkin’ in almost two months. I know I can do it. She looks at me, noddin’ like she understands why. “Girl, you gotta do what you gotta do. You know I’m good wit’ it. We still pourin’ though, right?” I tell ’er not as much. Tell ’er that I need to keep my mind right if I wanna do shit right. She smiles. “Whew, no smokin’, no drinkin’
and
no fuckin’? Hooker, you gonna be one cranky bitch.”

I laugh. “Ho, who said anything ’bout no fuckin’?”

“Well, now that you ain’t fuckin’ wit’ Allstar anymore, there goes ya steady supply’a dick.”

My cell rings. I pull it outta my bag, lookin’ at the screen. It’s Tone. He’s been hittin’ me up on a regular, and I been kinda diggin’ his convo.
Soon as I get back to Cali, I might have’ta ride down on this nigga’s cock.
I grin, pressin’ ignore. “Not necessarily, boo; not necessarily.”

Chanel hurriedly zooms in and outta traffic so we can get to the hospital to get Zaire, then head to Jersey to hit up Short Hills mall to buy up all the hot shit for lil’ boys.

A
WHOLE MONTH FLIES BY WIT’ ME STILL TRYNA FIND MY RHYTHM
wit’ havin’ a baby in my life. The shit ain’t easy. This lil’ muhfucka wanna sleep all day and be up all night, playin’. But, he’s so damn cute. So, of course all I do is hold his ass. And he just coos, and drools, and smiles at me. But a bitch is exhausted!

“Oh nooo, Mister Man. Wake ya lil’ ass up,” I say, unsnappin’ the legs of his sleeper, then changin’ his Pamper. He fusses, but I don’t give’a fuck. I slip the clean pamper underneath ’im, then unfasten the tabs on his Pamper. I make sure to cover his ding-a-ling
so he doesn’t piss on me. I had’a learn the hard way when he pissed in my damn face. Oooh, I wanted to slap his face. But, then he smiled at me, and I got all mushy. Damn ’im! “We gotta get bathed,” I tell ’im as if he can understand what the hell I’m sayin’, “then get you ova to the studio so we can flick it up today.” We’re takin’ his first set of pictures today at noon, so he gotta represent. He already has some’a the illest shit out.

The doorbell rings. I glance at the Spiderman clock on Zaire’s wall, frownin’. It’s 8:24 a.m. “Who da hell is at the door this time’a mornin’, huh, lil’ man?” I ask, scoopin’ ’im up in my arms, then walkin’ into my room to throw on a robe before goin’ downstairs to see who’s at the door. “We got unannounced company, and you know that shit don’t fly, ain’t that right, lil’ man?” He coos as I look through the peephole, shocked.
What da fuck this bitch want?
It’s Patrice. This ho has neva dared to come up to my doorstep. I didn’t even know the ho knew where I lived.
Keep it cute, bitch. Don’t get nasty wit’ this chick.
I swing open the door.

“Can I help you?”

She stares at the baby, then looks at me. “I was hopin’ we could talk. Can I come in,
please?
” She’s carryin’ gift bags stuffed wit’ items in both hands.

Zaire grabs at my ear, tryna pull on the diamond stud in my ear. I grab his lil’ hand. “No, no,” I say to ’im, steppin’ back to let ’er in. “You have ten minutes.”

“Thanks.” She walks in, and I shut the door behind ’er. I tell ’er to have a seat. Although I ain’t pressed ’bout her tryna get greasy wit’ it up in here, I silently hope Zaire doesn’t have’ta see me swing ’er through a wall. “Here,” she says, handin’ me the bags, “these are for da baby.”

Bitch, I don’t want ya shit. Baby boy wants for nuthin’, ho.
I take ’em from ’er. “Thanks. And his name is Zaire.”

“I like that.” She looks ’round my place, takin’ a seat. I can tell the bitch’s uncomfortable. Shit, I am, too. It’s awkward as fuck. “Ya spot is beautiful.”

I sit down on the otha side of ’er give. “Sweetie, I know you ain’t come here for no social call, so let’s not pussy-foot ’round. Get down to da real reason you here.”

“I came to see my nephew,” she says, starin’ at ’im. “And to bring ’im his gifts. They’re from his grandmotha, me and Elise.”

I blink, blink again. In my head I hear myself sayin’, “Bitch, puhleeze. Take ya gifts and ram up in ya slutty-stank pussy.” I remind myself that I have a baby in my arms. Remind myself that I said I am tryna change. I swallow back a buncha curse words. “You coulda called, first.” She tells me she’s been callin’ me for the last four weeks, that she’s left a buncha messages, and I haven’t called ’er back. I shrug. “I didn’t wanna talk.”

Zaire starts gettin’ antsy. I bounce ’im up and down on my knee to calm ’im. She starts talkin’ baby talk to ’im and he grins and coos at ’er. “Can I hold ’im?”

Bitch, no da fuck you can’t!
I hear Chanel’s voice in my head.
Ho, it ain’t always ’bout ya selfish ass.
I take a deep breath, tell ’er to go wash ’er hands, then reluctantly give ’im to ’er when she returns. She kisses him on his lil’ forehead, then holds ’im up against ’er chest. She starts gettin’ all emotional ’n shit. “Ohmigod, he’s so precious. Kat, we gotta try ’n get ova this shit between us.” I tell ’er not to curse in front of Zaire. She apologizes. “I wanna be in my nephew’s life. And I’d like to be in yours again.”

“That’ll neva happen,” I say, sittin’ back in my seat.

She forces a smile. “We used to be like sistas.”

“Yeah, ’til you dropped ya drawers and fu…screwed my man.”

“That was a big mistake,” she says, wipin’ tears. She has Zaire facin’ ’er sittin’ on ’er knees, doin’ more baby talk. He starts fussin’
’n fidgetin’.
Bitch, he don’t wanna hear that shit.
She tries to walkin’ ’round the room, bouncin’ ’im. That doesn’t work eitha.

“He’s hungry,” I say, gettin’ up and takin’ ’im from ’er. I tell ’er to follow me into the kitchen so I can warm his bottle. “So why’d you do it?” It’s a question I neva asked ’er before. It’s a question I neva really wanted the answer to. I just cut ’er off and fought ’er e’ery chance I got ’cause I was hurt. She looks at me confused. I grab a burpin’ pad, then hand it to ’er along wit’ Zaire so she can feed ’im. She’s surprised. And so am I. I repeat the question. “Why’d you have’ta sleep wit’ B-Love?”

“Keepin’ shi…ish real, I was jealous of you. And I was mad that he picked you ova me.”

“
Jealous?
For what?”

“Anywhere we went da niggas always ended up pressin’ you. You always got all da attention.”

“And so did you.”

“Yeah, but not da way you did. Niggas saw you as the ultimate catch. Yeah, I was a dime. But they saw you as da fifty-cent piece. I used to really be feelin’ some kinda way when we’d be somewhere and muhfuckas would try’n holla at you—first, then me. Or when we’d be walkin’ into a spot, all eyes would be on you, then me. Sometimes I felt like I had’a compete wit’ you. Even though I know that’s not what it was. It was all in my head. Still, I loved you, but secretly hated you for bein’ so eff’n fly. So when B-Love kinda dismissed me for you, I was feelin’ some kinda way. But then I ran into da nigga a few weeks later and he told me on da sly that he wanted to get at me, too. That he’d run me his dick and lace me wit’ wears and paper and shit, but I’d neva be wifey. I wanted da wifey slot, Kat. But he made it clear that only you’d have that title.”

I grunt. “Mmmmph. So you let ya jealousy fu…eff up our relationship
all ’cause ya schemin’-ass, hot pussy wanted what I had?”

She nods. “Kat, I was all effed up back then.”
And ya slutty-ass probably still is
, I think, starin’ at ’er. Zaire has fallen asleep. I get up from my seat, and take ’im from ’er, glancin’ ova at the microwave clock. It reads: 9:27 a.m.

“Listen, I ’preciate you comin’ through wit’ da gifts, and I ’preciate you keepin’ it real. But, it’s time for you ta bounce, boo. Zaire and I got things to do today.”

She gets up from ’er seat. “Yeah, I need to head back to Brooklyn, anyway. Thanks for lettin’ me see Zaire. He’s such a beautiful baby. I’m really surprised you are actually doin’ this.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Raisin’ ’im. You neva seemed like da type to wanna be tied down wit’ a baby. And we all know how much you hated ya moms.”

“True. And at first I wasn’t beat for ’im. But after seein’ ’im and holdin’ ’im in my arms, I had’a change’a heart. Besides, I didn’t want ya’ll asses to get ’im.”

She shakes ’er head, laughin’. “Of course you didn’t; that’s just you. But, it’s all good. He’s right where he needs to be—wit’ his big sista. I’m glad we had’a chance to talk. I hope we can do it again, soon. I know ya grandmotha and Elise would like to see Zaire, as well.”

I buck my eyes. “Listen, don’t push it. I let you up in here. But don’t get it twisted. I ain’t beat for no family reunion-type shit. I don’t want nuthin’ to do wit’ ya moms.”
Kat, it ain’t always ’bout ya selfish-ass.
“Not right now, anyway,” I add, shakin’ Chanel’s voice outta my head, again. “Listen, I don’t like you, Patrice. So we ain’t eva gonna be what we used to be. And I ain’t gonna be fake ’bout it. But, I’m not gonna keep you away from Zaire just because I got issues wit’ you.” I know she saw the
FOR SALE
sign out on the lawn when she pulled up, so she gotta know I’m bouncin’.
But since she ain’t mention nuthin’ ’bout it, I ain’t offerin’ shit. The bitch’ll figure it out soon enough when all’a my numbers are changed, again. And there’s no forwardin’ address.

She smiles. “That’s all I ask.” She stares at me for a second, then says, “Kat, people can change. We may not eva get close again. But, hopefully, we can work on bein’ civil to each otha.”