“Hey, Pete.”
“Aye, let me ask you something.”
I froze for some reason like he was the police and I were a criminal.
“Yeah, sure, but I have somewhere to be.”
Chuckling, he responded, “I won’t hold you long.” Slipping his hands down into his dark blue jean pockets, he asked, “Yo’ brother still fucking my girl?”
“Tony?”
“How many brothers you got?”
“Hell no! He is married and to someone he loves very much.”
“Love and marriage don’t mean shit to niggas when some pussy is in the room.”
“Well it does to him.” I felt my mouth twist up.
Although shorter and thinner than this nigga, I was ready to box him over my brother. Plus, I knew if he hit me, Tony would kill him.
“My bad, chill out. I just wanted to know. I feel like Nala is pregnant, but she’s been acting strangely, so I thought maybe the baby belonged to someone else.”
“I don’t know anything about her being pregnant, but what I do know is that she ain’t fucking my brother.”
Nodding, Pete replied, “I appreciate the info. Have a good day, beautiful.”
“Uh huh.” I waved him off, making him laugh as we walked in opposite directions.
I threw my bag into my passenger seat then hopped in behind the wheel. I was still simmering, thinking about this stuff with Nala. I was trying to like the girl, but Camarih was my sister, and I wasn’t about to be buddy-buddy with some woman who obviously wanted her man.
As I turned my Range Rover on, I saw my phone light up with an email; it was a response from Ahmad Drake. I quickly tapped it to read.
Please please do not do this to me. I need a fire stylist and you deserve the exposure. If I said anything to offend you or cause this switch, I apologize. I can pay more if needed.
Locking my phone, I took a few more moments to think. Did Nehemiah really have the right to stunt my career like this?
After driving a few blocks, I pulled over and replied, letting Ahmad know I would be down for the cause. Nehemiah would get over it.
10
Tony Wacko
A few days later…
I’d pulled up in front of the studio, parking my Grand National in my usual spot. You damn right I still whipped this muthafucka. I kept it in good ass shape, and it was a part of me. It got me a lot of fucking places, well, before I had the funds to push the Maybach or Bentley truck I owned.
Just as I was about to pocket my work iPhone, I saw Jilly’s name pop up, so I answered. If she was hitting this line, that meant it wasn’t no dumb shit and was about business.
“What?”
“Dang, that’s how you answer your phone?”
“Aight, I’m hanging the fuck up.”
“Wait!” She laughed. “Okay, listen, I have something to tell you. Well, actually, I have two things to tell you, but they’re connected so—”
“Jilly, hurry up.” I shook my head as I waved angrily for some nigga to cross the street since he was eyeing my whip like a fucking weirdo.
“Okay, so I did the fitting with Nala the other day, and only like two outfits fit out of the eight she needs.”
“You telling me the bitch got fat?”
“I mean, yeah, but she gained weight because she’s pregnant.” I shut my eyes at that revelation because this was not the fucking time. “But she’s not going to keep it; she already told me. She even promised she would be able to get in the outfits. She doesn’t want the baby because…”
“Because what?” I was irritated that muthafuckin quickly.
“She doesn’t want to keep the baby because it isn’t yours.”
“All I wanna know is will the hoe fit the shit once she gets that muthafucka sucked out.”
“Houston! Did you hear what I just said? And how could you say something so cruel?”
“How is it cruel? That bitch don’t want her baby, so I wanna know will she fit that shit we got for free! I ain’t her fucking nigga or kinfolk, so I couldn’t care less what she does with her pussy or womb.”
Jilly knew me better than a lot of niggas, so for her to act like I was supposed to give a fuck about Nala’s personal life threw me. That bitch had been dick dizzy since the first time I nutted on her titties. Fuck I look like getting all up in arms just because she was still on that same shit? Long as she knew me and her would never fuck around ever again, I didn’t really give a damn how she felt and what she wanted out of life. If you gave these hoes an inch of sympathy, they would take that shit and run with it.
“I forgot you only care about Camarih.” Jilly sighed.
“I care about you too. Now answer the fucking question. Is this shit gon’ cost me?”
“No. I talked to the designers, and they said they would be willing to give us new sizes, but it has to be picked up… in New York.”
“Okay, so handle it.”
“I am!” She hung up.
I dialed Nala, and she answered before it even rang once it seemed like.
“Hey—”
“Come down to the studio.”
“Okay.”
I deaded the line and then went inside of the studio building to see what was up. I’d just signed a new artist named Brooklen, who was basically a hybrid of Nala and Holli. She couldn’t outsing Nala, shit, barely anybody could, but she was a bit better at this rapping shit than Holli. She looked better too, even now that Holli’s teeth were fixed up.
“Hey, boss!” Holli’s ass shouted.
“What the fuck I tell you about yelling now that you got them big ass teeth in yo’ mouth? Old saber-toothed tiger ass.”
“You wrong as fuck.” Rahim laughed along with Abel and some random hoes in here.
“Really, Tony? When I had fucked up teeth, you talked about me, and now that I have fixed teeth, you talk about me. How—”
“Go home. You should be done recording for the day.” I set my shit down in my designated chair. “Y’all hoes gotta get the fuck out too.” I directed my words toward the three bitches chilling in here.
“Abel?” One of them looked to him as if he was supposed to step in. Of course, he shrugged, munching on some chips.
“I said for y’all hoes to get the fuck up out my shit. I’m counting to twenty, and I go by fives.”
They all hopped up, and two of them rushed out, but the third was lagging. Per usual, she was the ugliest one in here. It was always them unfortunate T-Rex looking ass hoes causing issues.
Walking past me and stopping, she said, “I don’t know why you had to come through here causing problems. We was just chilling, not even bothering nobody.”
“And I don’t know why the fuck you got morning breath in the evening, KRS-One. Take yo’ funky breath ass on somewhere ’fore I kill you and all that muthafuckin bacteria swimming around in yo’ mouth.”
As soon as I mentioned her halitosis, that ashy ass hand flew up over her mouth. By the time I finished my insult, she was hightailing it out of the studio.
“Damn man, she was a for sure fuck.” Abel groaned.
“You looking forward to fucking females with bad breath?” Rahim turned to look at him as I sat down.
“I wasn’t gon’ kiss the bitch. She got a fat ass, and I wanted to hit and get some head, nothing more.”
“No way in hell would I let that hoe put her stank ass mouth on my dick.” I turned my lip up at Abel. All the money this nigga had but he was still fucking bottom of the barrel ass hoes. “Shit, if I pulled my dick out and saw her across the room with her mouth open, I’d shoot her ass.”
Rahim and Abel doubled over in laughter.
“You cold blooded, but aye, I feel you. I wouldn’t want her topping me off either.” Rahim shook his head with a disgusted expression.
“Hello, gentlemen.” Brooklen entered the room wearing some little ass shorts and a top that showed her stomach. The bitch was fine as fuck, which was a good thing because sex sold.
> Brooklen was brown skinned, thick, hella short, with long coily ass hair and hazel eyes. But as sexy as she was, she wasn’t Camarih.
My wife was the prettiest bitch I’d ever seen, on God, and had a body that could make a nigga nut too quick if she was riding it. The cherry on top was her personality. I loved everything about her corny ass, which was why I didn’t understand how she thought I would smash any of these bitches I worked with when I had her.
“You ready to get in the booth? Time is money. I don’t like too many takes,” I let Brooklen know.
“I got you.” She purposely switched by, and I admit I looked. Her ass was fat, and I wouldn’t be a nigga if I didn’t look. It was my duty to look.
“Aye, get to work and quit watching these hoes!” I barked at Rahim’s and Abel’s looking asses, who got right to setting shit up for Brooklen while smiling hard.
A few moments into her recording, Nala showed up, so I told her to stay in the hallway. After letting Abel know how I wanted Brooklen to do the next verse, I tread out of the studio room, closing the door.
“How are you?” Nala smiled widely for some reason as she stared up at me. I was leaning against the wall, looking down at her.
“Fuck you telling my sister you wanna have my baby for?”
“No, I wasn’t saying it like that. I was just expressing that I want to have a baby with a man I love. I love you, but I know it’s not like that between us… at least not for you.” She waited as if I was gon’ correct her. “And I’m not in love with Pete, so—”
“You know if Camarih hears the shit you say, I’m gon’ kill you, right?” I asked calmly, enjoying the sight of the fear soaring through her fucking body.
“Yes. I promise I will do better with my words.” She was already crying.
“Jilly said them fucking designers will change the sizes and shit for you, but she gotta fly out to pick the shit up.”
I noticed Camarih trying to FaceTime, but I knew if I answered, she’d see Nala’s ass right here and pitch a fucking fit.
“Oh, okay. This will not happen again. I don’t even know how I got pregnant because we always use condoms—”
“Bitch I don’t give a fuck about none of that shit. If you wanna have one hundred babies by that nigga, by yourself, or even by some Area 51 alien muthafuckas, it don’t matter. If you murder every baby you get pregnant with from now until you croak the fuck over, it don’t matter. Just quit the Romeo and Juliet bullshit ’fore I kill you.
“A nigga has been trying real hard not to put two in ya muthafuckin dome because you make me so much money, but you cutting it close as shit. Let just one of them singles, albums, or concert tickets not sell, and I’m knocking yo’ fucking block off with no warning.”
“I know.” She looked down sadly. As I was about to walk off, she asked, “So you really signed that girl Brooklen?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You know she dope.”
“She’s aight, if that’s what kind of music you’re into. She’s a bit weird for my taste.”
“Good thing you don’t run shit and yo’ fucking opinion don’t matter.”
“She wants to fuck you, you know that, right?” Nala called out to my back since I’d started away.
“And?”
“I mean, do you really want another bitch around that’s trying to fuck you? Or are you fucking her already?”
“Worry about who yo’ nigga is fucking and less about Camarih’s.” I knew that shit would sting her stupid ass, and by the look on her face, it worked.
“Tony—”
“Get out. I’m yearning to slap you the fuck up.”
“Hey, I was planning to get a procedure done this Thursday, so can I reschedule my recording session?” Her voice trembled. Hoe was a certified crybaby.
“I don’t give a fuck, Nala. Talk to Rahim and Abel about that,” I replied dryly, not even looking back and slipping into the room.
I sat back down in my seat and lit one up, watching Brooklen as she sang on the current track. By the time it was 8:30 p.m., she was finished, so she came out to listen. Halfway through the song, she got up off the couch and began doing this extra ass performance. One thing Nala had right was the bitch was weird, but she was sexy and had talent. And shit, muthafuckas liked weirdos these days.
“Aight, shit sounds good. Abel, just do what you gotta do to put that sparkle on the shit, and then after I hear that one, we can put it to work. It needs to be ready by the time the company party happens.”
“Oh, it’ll be done well before.” Abel nodded, packing his shit up.
As Rahim and Brooklen did the same, I went to take a seat on the couch, opening my laptop to reply to some emails. I then remembered that Camarih FaceTimed me earlier, so once them niggas left the room, I dialed her back.
“Yes?” She picked up. She had on a facemask, and from what I could tell, her famous silk robe.
“You look so good to me right now. I can’t wait to come home and lay up with yo’ ass.” I sat back, thinking about the shit as I inhaled on my second blunt.
“Whatever.”
“Camarih, why the fuck you be testing me? You want me to beat you, huh?”
She let out a suppressed giggle, showing she didn’t want to laugh at my statement.
“Why didn’t you answer me when I called the first time? Hours ago?” I could see the attitude in her face, even with all that shit slathered over it.
“Because I was busy.”
“You answer me any other time. And when it’s an important meeting, you usually text me beforehand so I know.”
I looked off, knowing she was right.
“I had to chop it up with Nala.”
“I thought today’s session was with that new girl?” Camarih sat up.
“It was, but I had to get at Nala about some shit.” I stared at Camarih, and she stared back at me, expecting more information. “Her ass is pregnant, and she didn’t say shit to Jilly, so her press tour outfits don’t fit. But the hoe promised she gon’ get an abortion and be able to wear it, so I’m hopeful.”
“You’re hopeful she has an abortion?”
“I’m hoping the bitch don’t cost me unnecessary money. I don’t give a fuck what she does with her body.”
“Did you say this to her?”
“Fuck you think?”
“Good.” Camarih giggled. “I don’t want her thinking you care about her.”
“Why you call me?”
“I wanted to show you what your son did, but it’s too late. I will show you the photos.”
“You bet not still have a fucking attitude when I pull up. I’m trying to chill and fuck.”
“Houston.” She shook her head. “Well if you get here before eleven p.m., I won’t be upset. You have to agree to a movie too. After eleven p.m., I’m going to sleep and with the baby.” She hung up, making me chuckle, even though I wanted to wring her fucking neck for hanging up in my face. That snappy shit turned me on and pissed a nigga off at the same fucking time.
“So you do smile,” a voice called out, and when I looked up, Brooklen was in the doorway with a smirk. I thought her ass had left.
“Fuck you listening to my phone calls for?”
“I wasn’t. I came at the tail end.” She moved further into the room. “Y’all are cute.”
“Nah, you can’t sit down. Go home.”
“I want to, but I need a ride.”
“Call Uber.” I finished sending the email I needed to and ashed the blunt.
“I would, but I don’t have a credit or debit card unfortunately. I only carry cash, and they don’t take that.”
“Walk.”
“It’s late, Tony. Please just give me a ride. I promise this will never happen again. My man was supposed to pick me up, but he got held back at work.”
I laughed.
“You hoes say whatever to get fucked.” I rose up.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard what the fuck I said. Get yo’ ass up and
come the fuck on before I change my mind.” I started out and hit the lights before she could even exit the room.
Once she was out of the studio, I locked it up, then walked right to my car, stepping down off the curb. Sticking my key into the truck, I lifted the hatch.
“Thank you again, Tony.”
“Get in.” I nodded down to the trunk, causing her to laugh. I joined her for a second then ceased it. “Hurry up or I’m gon’ leave yo’ ass.”
“You have a perfectly good front seat here!”
“That shit is reserved for my bitch. Now if you want a ride, get yo’ stupid ass in the trunk.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Aight, I’m out.” I started to close it, but she stopped me.
“Is it even enough room for me in here? I’m thick.”
“Yeah, yo’ big ass can fit.” My statement made her jaw drop, and if I wasn’t annoyed by her ass right now, I would’ve laughed.
Brooklen’s body was tight, but I wouldn’t dare let her ass know that shit. If I did, she’d only try harder to get dicked down, then she’d be another artist of mine on my kill list.
“Big? Never.”
Like the thirsty for dick ass hoe that she was, she crawled into the trunk. After I made sure all the latches were clear, I slammed that shit down, giving it a slight tap before rounding the whip and sliding in on the driver’s side. I texted her to ask for her address, and she sent it pretty quickly to be cramped up in such a small space.
Turning my music up, I popped some candy into my mouth and sped off. She ain’t live too far, so we got to her crib in about fifteen minutes. When I pulled onto her street, nearing her spot, I saw a group of niggas chilling on the sidewalk. Pulling over to park, I made sure my gun was locked in my waist then got out to release the trunk.
“Brook?” One of the niggas frowned, nearing my car as he watched Brooklen climb out.
“Nah, cuz, stay up on that sidewalk like you know what’s good for you,” I let him know.
“Nigga, what—oh shit… you Tony Wacko.” He put his fist to his mouth, glancing back at his homies who started coming closer. None of them niggas stepped down though, so they knew what the fuck was up.
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