So Gone

by Jennifer Luckett

“What you got to do wit’ this?” I sneered at her messy ass.

  “Any and everything.” She turned her nose up at me. There was no love lost between me and that bitch. She had been sticking her nose in me and Mo’s business way too often.

  Mo’ seemed to be reconsidering her demand, so I pressed her. “Fa real, Boo, like I told you before I moved in wit’ you. If you ever put me out, I’m not comin’ back. So, how’s it goin’ down? Think hard before you answer ‘cause I meant what I said.”

  Mo’ pounced up in my face. “Boy, you have a lot of nerve acting like I’m the one who has to make a decision. Lately, your black ass has been nothing but one problem after another. You’ve changed the last year or so that we’ve been together, and I’m so fed up with the bullcrap! You think the sun rises and sets with your ass, and I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t."

  "Oh, that's how you feel? You know an angry mouth speaks the truth." I tried to reverse the game, but Mo' wasn't buying it.

  “You know what, Blunt?” she said with resignation in her tone."I keep thinking that I can change you, but today I woke up and realized that you’ll always be a dog. I know about your sneaky ass making babies all around town like that makes you a big man. You're out there embarrassing me; you have people looking at me like I'm a fool. So nah, nigga, I don’t have to think about a damn thing. I’ve done all the thinking about your whorish ass that I’m going to do. You don’t deserve a woman like me. Get your shit and go be with one of your dick sucking bitches. I’m done!”

  I was shocked by the venom spewing from my boo’s mouth. It sounded like she had switched tongues wit’ her foul-mouthed cousin.

  “Whateva, Shawdy. You tryin’ to impress Leesha. You and that bitch must be bumpin’ pussies,” I slung back at her.

  “Oh, you wanna go there?” Leesha said hoppin’ up off the couch like she wanted to try a nigga.

  “Bitch, you betta sit yo’ ass down before I dress yo’ country ass kinfolks in black.”

  "Who the fuck are you calling a bitch? If I'm a bitch, the woman that birthed you is one too."

  My eyes turned into slits. "Hoe, you must don't know who the fuck you're talking to." I stepped towards her with balled fists.

  Mo' shot between us. "You better not hit her," she said.

  "You better train that poodle not to bark at pit bulls." I stepped back and unclenched my fists.

  “I’m not scared of you, Blunt. Killers don’t talk, they make it pop off,” Leesha braved.

  I shook my head. “Girl, you just don’t kno’. Let me push on before I catch a body that ain’t worth the bullet that I’ll use. You ain't nothin' but a tennis shoe hoe anyway.”

  "Don't disrespect her like that!" Mo' snapped, getting up in my grill. I used the palm of my hand to gently push her back.

  She slapped my hand. “Blunt, if you don’t already know you better act like you do. Don’t put your hands on me!”

  I stared deep into her eyes, searching for a glint of the love that had gotten us through many ups and downs in the past. I saw nothin' in her eyes but fire. “Damn, Boo, I thought we were inseparable.”

  “Not!” she retorted.

  I gathered my things off the floor and carried them to the door. Leesha ran ahead of me and swung the door open emphatically. She looked at me with a smirk on her face.

  My arrogance bubbled over.

  “She’ll come runnin’ back,” I whispered. “Cause I kno’ how to fuck her real good.”

  “Ha! That ain’t what I heard,” she tossed back at me.

  I smiled. Never let 'em see you sweat, I reminded myself. Then, I carried my shit up outta there without looking back. When I made it to my ride, I texted Mo’: You played yaself.

  It surprised me that she didn’t text back. It was all good though. A nigga was never left without a backup plan, and I had an A1 backup.

  I called Mika.

  “Hey, Baby,” I said softly when she answered the phone.

  “Hey. What’s up with you? You sound troubled,” she immediately detected.

  “Man, Mo’ put a nigga out, but it’s all good.”

  I didn’t have to say anything else. Mika offered, “Come cry on my shoulder, Baby. You know you’re always welcome here.”

  “Cry?” I responded. “Man, I’m not sheddin’ no tears! Fuck that bougie bitch. I need a gutta broad as my number one, anyway.”

  I was frontin’ nine thousand, but I’d never let a bitch see me down. I still believed that Mo’ would call in a few days, begging me to come back home.

  Hard To Let Go

  Molaysia

  Really, I didn’t want my man to go. I would have preferred that we sit down and talk things out. Even though he wasn’t doing right by me, I couldn't just blink my eyes and stop loving him. I knew that he loved me.

  I recalled all the good times that we had shared together. It hadn’t always been bad between us. There was a time when I was Blunt's everything, and he was mine as well. If I could have those days back I would skip back and forth to work. Blunt was the only man that I had ever adored. When things were good between us there was nothing in this world that compared to it, and now it was gone.

  Watching Blunt walk out of that door had hurt so badly. I had wanted to run up behind him and beg him to stay, plead with him to just be honest with me. It was a good thing that Leesha was there. I'm not sure that I would've had the strength to let him walk away.

  "Thanks, girl. I really needed you here to help me through that," I said.

  She hugged me. "Mo', just because you love a man it doesn't mean that he's the right one for you."

  "You're right, but I am going to miss him. If he would just stop his lying and cheating..."

  Leesha looked at me reproachfully. "Cuz, how long have you been telling yourself that?"

  "I know, right?" I agreed. "He'll never change. Anyway, I can do bad by myself."

  "Okaaay," she chimed.

  I sat down at the kitchen table and rested my head in my hands. "Tomorrow is a new beginning," I declared. "Thanks again."

  "Chile, you’re welcome." Leesha put a finger up under my chin and lifted my head. "God will send you the one He has for you."

  I smiled, fighting back tears.

  "The twins must be asleep," I said. We hadn't heard a peep out of them during all the commotion.

  "They probably have on their headphones," she guessed. "If you're alright, I'm going to bed. I'm tired from the drive."

  I nodded my head. “Okay, that’s fine.” I stepped over to the fridge, opened the door, and grabbed some bottled water. Leesha went on upstairs to get some rest. My cell phone vibrated on the marble kitchen counter. I picked it up and stared at the unfamiliar number.

  “Hello.”

  “Can I speak to Molaysia?” asked the caller. She sounded real ghettofied.

  “This is Molaysia.” I held the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I walked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa.

  “My name is Luscious. I’m sure you don’t kno’ who I am but after today you will. I’m Blunt's baby's mama; the bitch he hasn't told you about."

  She paused for a reaction, but I didn't feed into it.

  "Anyway, honey, I would appreciate it if you would tell yo’ man to stop comin’ over here trying to regulate shit. My neighbor had to call the popos over here the other day, and they picked that ass up,” she snitched.

  I still remained silent. Nothing surprised me anymore when it came to that man.

  “You still on the phone?” she asked with a major attitude.

  “Yes, I’m still here, and I’m listening to you. Whether you know it or not, two people can't speak at the same time and be heard. So, continue on and when you’re finished that’s when I’ll speak. That’s how civilized people hold conversations, Babycakes,” I replied sarcastically.

  She chuckled. “Look, I know how people with good sense talk so don’t get cute with me. Unlike Blunt, I don’t worship the ground you walk on ‘cause what you e
at don’t make me shit, bitch.”

  I sucked my teeth, turned the water bottle up, took two big gulps, and tried to stay calm.

  “Hello? Shit, is you still on the line or what?” she complained.

  “I’m listening to you. Say what you have to say.” I let out a frustrated sigh. She was really testing my patience.

  “I got your number out of his cell phone when he showered over here the other day. Well, that was after he dug up in this pussy for an hour.” She giggled behind her remark.

  “And you told me that because?”

  “So you'll know that he ain't shit. Oh, and before I forget, I’m not the only broad he has a baby with that you don’t know about. He has a son by a chick named Mika. I don't know how old that little mothafucka is, but I know he's walking.”

  “Is that so?” I asked nonchalantly refusing to let her know that what she had confirmed hurt deeply.

  “Yep, he's been playing your stupid ass the whole time.” I guess she thought she could say anything to me that she wanted, and I would accept it. I wasn’t sure what Blunt had told her about me, but her perception of me was way off. I wasn't the pushover that she obviously thought I was.

  “Let me tell you something, Luscious. You’re one of the dumbest whores living. You called my phone to tell me that you and Blunt have a baby together, and he’s beating your ass? Are you serious? You and that baby you gapped your legs open and had need to be at a clinic somewhere having a blood test done. You sound like a straight gutter rat, and there’s no telling whose mouse that is.”

  “Fuck you. I kno’ who my baby daddy is,” she yelled in my ear. “I’m gon’ see you in the streets, and when I do I’m gon’ hit you so hard yo’ kids gon’ be born dizzy.”

  "Honey, I don't have any children, but when I do, best believe I'll be the man's wife not a damn baby mama."

  "I'ma fuck you up when I see you," she threatened. Her words didn't faze me because she would have to bring some butt to get some.

  “I hope you’ve picked out your casket because the day you hit me will be the day you take your last breath,” I warned. Then, I folded my legs up under me Indian style.

  “Hmph. Please, I ain’t got time for this fuckery. You just better make sure yo’ mouth ain’t signed a check that yo’ ass can’t cash,” she said before hanging up on me.

  I leaned my head back and thought about just how nasty Blunt's ass was. I absolutely had to keep my promise to myself to leave that nigga alone before I caught some shit that an antibiotic couldn’t clear.

  A Bottle, A Blunt, And My Thoughts

  Blunt

  “Check it, Baby Girl, I’m just callin’ to let you kno’ that I’m not comin’ through tonight so don’t wait up for me,” I said to Mika.

  “Oh, why not? Did you and Mo’ make up already?” she asked soundin’ a li’l disappointed, but somewhat understandin’ as always.

  “Nah, I’m just gonna get a room and do some thinkin’ ‘cause all this bouncin’ from female to female got me off my square,” I admitted.

  Mika wasn't the type of female who needed to be lied to. She could accept the truth and roll wit’ it. That’s why I fucked wit’ her the long way.

  “Do whatever you feel you have to do. I’m here for you if you need me, Daddy,” she said wit’ sincerity.

  “That’s real, Li’l Mama, and that’s why I’ll never shit on you,” I promised.

  I stopped at the liquor store and grabbed a half a gallon of Hen Dog and some brown stickies to roll the Kush up that I had on deck. I checked into a room at the Motel 6 out on Fulton Industrial and tossed Hen back like water. When my head started to spin, I sparked a blunt and mellowed my high. Then I started thinkin’ about my boo.

  Dayum, why the fuck couldn’t I be faithful to Mo’? She was beautiful, fine, devoted and intelligent. I shouldn't have needed anyone else. Maybe I'm like Tiger Woods. I might need to go to a sex rehab center for help wit’ my sexual addiction, I thought to myself.

  That was some funny shit.

  I started laughing my ass off, because that was the lamest shit I had ever heard. Tiger prob’ly had been in rehab dicking therapists and nurses. Fa real tho, I needed to check myself before I lost a good woman. My li’l head was gonna get me in some shit that I couldn’t get out of one day. A nigga was droppin’ seeds like crazy.

  I hit the blunt and held the smoke in my lungs until I started coughing. It was some fiyah I was blazin’! That shit must’ve been laced wit’ some common sense 'cause I swear every time I inhaled I could clearly see my mistakes.

  I grabbed my cell phone and speed dialed my boo. I got sent to voicemail five straight times. On the sixth attempt Mo’ answered the phone. “Blunt, stop calling my damn phone.”

  I said real softly, “Boo, all I ask is that you allow me a few minutes to say what’s in my heart. You don’t have to say anything in response, just listen to me.” I raised my foot up and planted it on the small nightstand on the side of the bed.

  I was posted up in only a wife beater and black boxers. I tightly clutched the bottle of Henny in my hand and took a gulp. I was gettin' good and gon’ off that fiyah water.

  “No, Blunt. You don’t deserve another minute of my time. I’ve wasted three years on you, and I’m not wasting another second. This is where I get off the rollercoaster, Sir,” Mo' stated without a hint of regret in her voice.

  My heart dropped at the thought that she may have meant it this time. I spoke fast before she could hang up. "Mo’, you kno’ I love you. You can’t even dispute that. Am I perfect? Nah, not by a long shot, but my love for you is one hunnid, and that’s a foundation that you just don’t toss away. I told you when we first hooked up that sometimes I might make some pretty big mistakes, but you will always be able to count on my heart. Anything you ask me for, I give it to you, and I give it wit’ a smile ‘cause you’re my baby.”

  “No, Blunt, I’m not your baby. Your babies are by Chunuchi, some broad named Mika, another trick named Luscious, and God knows how many other baby mamas you have.”

  I got quiet. I wondered how she knew about Mika and Luscious.

  “What now? Cat got your tongue? See, when you lay wit’ rats they go back and tell it. Lose my number, Dog Ass Negro.” The call abruptly ended.

  I didn’t even call back. I just got high and kicked myself for fuckin’ up. My eyes slowly shut as I told myself that I had to get my baby back somehow, someway.

  No Mask

  Blunt

  The next day I was out in the streets parlaying with my hood niggas. Mo’ was still on my mind, but I had on my game face around the homies.

  “I heard you got them thangs on deck,” a nigga named Millionaire said to me as I walked up to where he was posted up on the hood of his metallic gray Dodge Charger, chopping it up wit’ some homies at Grant Park. We dapped fists.

  “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ wit’ a li’l somethin’,” I said and steered him away from the others. My li’l homie, Deuce, who was sitting on the hood of his black '64 Chevy Impala a few feet away, winked at me.

  When me and Millionaire got away from the others I asked, “So, how many of them thangs you tryna fuck wit’?”

  “Depends on the ticket you got on 'em,” he replied.

  “Since it’s you, I’ma let ‘em go for sixteen a piece.” I quoted a price that he couldn’t refuse.

  Millionaire smiled, showin’ eight gold teeth across the top of his grill. “In that case, let me get three of them thangs,” he said like he was ordering a hunnid.

  "That's what's up." I nodded.

  “I would get more, but I already got a half mil tied up in another move,” he popped, frontin’ like a motha. He had gotten the nickname 'Millionaire' by talkin’ a million dollars worth of shit and exaggeratin’ nine hunnid grand of it.

  “I feel you, my nigga, it’s all good. I fucks wit’ you hard. Now that I’m plugged in, I hope we can do business on a regular basis. You feel me?” I said.

  “As long as there’s no sh
it in the game, we can make that happen. You kno’ me, I’m not wit’ the violence. I ain’t never did no business wit’ you. Maddafact, I didn’t even kno’ you made power moves, but on the strength of Deuce's word, I’m gon’ fuck wit’ you.”

  I eyed him down. He was rocking Gucci er'thing. I said, “If it wasn’t for Deuce, I wouldn’t fuck wit’ you either. Why do you think you didn’t kno’ I pump weight? I don’t be puttin’ myself out there like that cause the game is too grimey and niggaz can’t be trusted. I’ma give you my number, and if you hit me up by nine tonight, we can make it happen.”

  Millionaire locked me in to his Smartphone and promised to get at me by nine. I leaned over and hollered at Deuce before bouncin’.

  For the next five hours, I periodically checked the prepaid phone that I copped specifically for dudes such as Millionaire to get at me. A li’l after eight, he called and told me he was ready to see me.

  “Give me an hour and meet me at Ms. Winners on Jonesboro Road. Come solo or else it’s not goin’ down. I don’t do the entourage thing. Our business ain’t no one else’s,” I cautioned.

  “That’s what’s up,” agreed Millionaire. “I'll be in my old school whip.” I knew the ride he was referring to.

  “Say no more.”

  I hung up the phone, dashed right off to the meeting spot, and cased it out until I saw Millionaire pull up in his ’64 orange-juice colored Impala on 24 inch chromed shoes. I remained parked across the street until I was confident that he was alone, and then I hit him on the hip.

  “Yeah,” he answered on the first ring.

  “I just saw you roll up. Drive across the street. I'm over here waiting.”

  When he pulled next to me, I rolled down my window. “Sup, Homie? Let’s do this real quick. You got forty-eight bands wit’ you?”

  “Yeah, down to the penny,” he assured me.

  “Aight, I got the work.” I hopped out of my whip carryin’ a large shoe bag. I went up to the driver’s window and asked him to show me the bread.

  He reached in the back seat and grabbed a paper shopping bag. He opened it so I could look inside, and stacks winked at me.