In Love With A Rude Boy, A Top Shotta's Love Story

by Nika Michelle

  “Fuck him,” I said out loud and walked back toward the kitchen.

  I put some of the gumbo in a bowl and sat down at the dining room table. After tasting it, I couldn’t help but give myself credit for how good it was. Too bad I was looking all good and shit for nothing. Shit, after that, I had that fuck a nigga attitude. Love wasn’t shit but a set up for a bitch to be fucked all up. From that point on, it was money over niggas. My career and my funds were going to be my focus. I didn’t have time for love nor did I have any patience for a lame ass man. It was all about me and so… I was going to do me.

  Chapter 2

  Omari

  Jah know star. The sun was blazing on the field as we played our regular Sunday evening football game at the ball field. I heard the chicks screaming my name as I kicked the ball into the goal. I smiled at the crowd of females who made it a ritual to watch us every time we played.

  As I jumped on my Suzuki Hayabusa 100R motorcycle, I looked around and smiled because it was a big come-up from the ghetto that I grew up in.

  I was born and raised in Cockburn Pen, one of the poorest, most ghetto neighborhoods in the rural area of Kingston, Jamaica. Shit, we were poor as hell, and being the oldest of eight children, I had to help Mama out. I knew that once I got older, I had to get away from that life. There were days when we didn’t have anything but water and a piece of bread to eat for our dinner.

  Killing and robbing was the everyday thing. Even as a young yute, I used to hang around the bigger dons of the area, watching and learning. It was then I made a mental note that I was going to get out and make a better life, and it didn’t matter how. I was going to get mine by any means necessary.

  I was about fourteen years old when I decided I’d had enough of being poor. So, I got up, kissed Mama on the cheek, and bounced. Life was rough in them streets, and for the first couple of months, my homeboy, Mikey, and I robbed drug dealers and used the money to get bags of ganja. Selling drugs wasn’t what I wanted though. It was only a means to survive.

  Being on the streets gave me different opportunities, and one of them was music. Ever since I was young, I was fascinated with reggae. Me and my brethren would gather around and battle each other with songs that we made up.

  News traveled fast, and I became one of the hottest deejays in Cockburn Pen. It didn’t take long for me to reach my true potential, and before you knew it, I was given an opportunity to deejay on a well-known sound system called Killamanjaro. See, Killamanjaro was mashing up the place and shutting down every sound it clashed with. I accepted the offer, and the rest is history.

  I didn’t mean to brag, but I was one of the hottest deejays in Jamaica right now, and with that came fame. Bitches started to throw themselves at me. Every night after the show, I could expect to leave with a different woman. I wasn’t trying to settle down, but fucking pussy was definitely bragging rights amongst me and my brethren then.

  I was a gallist until I met the beautiful wife. It still sounded weird to me when I said ‘wife,’ because I never thought that I would be married and have two beautiful kids. That was the only good thing that came from me being tied down for the last three years.

  I parked my bike in the driveway and opened the grill to the five-bedroom house that I had bought in the Stoney Hill area of Kingston. It was a big come up from the ghetto because only people with big money could afford to live up in that area.

  “Daddy’s home! Hey, Daddy.” My youngest daughter, Keila, jumped on me as soon as I walked inside.

  “where yuh been? You si mi a call your rassclaat phone?” Angela confronted me.

  “Aye, watch yo mout’. Mi a big man, and mi nuh haffi check in,” I said. I was pissed as hell that, instead of greeting her husband, all she did was fuss all the damn time.

  “Mi know you cheating, but mi a tell yuh and dat bitch, she better go find her own man. Mi done talk,” she said before she walked off into the room.

  I took a seat on the couch. I was really tired of coming home to that bullshit. For once in my life, I wasn’t fucking nothing else, and all she could do was sit on her ass, complaining and accusing me of cheating. Jah knows those bitches out there be throwing pussy at me on the regular, but after I got caught cheating over a year ago, I’d been laying low. Shit had gotten sticky between my wife and this bitch from Waltham Park Road that I was fucking. Somehow, I left my phone at home by mistake, and Angela went snooping around. All hell broke loose when she read the messages between the bitch and I. She called the bitch, and they met up and got to fighting. It was so bad that Angela cut the bitch’s face up. She got locked up that day, and later, she was given probation. I was angry when I found out about it because Angela was a wife, but yet she was out in the streets, behaving like she was a matey.

  Ever since that incident, Angela had been accusing me of fucking everything with a pussy. I had to stop her from coming out to the dances that I kept because she did not know how to act, especially when she saw other bitches.

  I wasn’t going to lie; the relationship was wearing me the fuck down. I was ready to get away from her and her old, miserable ass.

  Chapter 3

  Kadijah

  One thing about me was I could cook my ass off. Although my brother was older than me, I was the woman of the house when Mama was working, so I made sure that we ate. The job she had at a factory had her out of the house for at least thirteen hours a day. Because of her hard work for minimum wage, I had to learn how to cook early. Another thing I learned from her was the fact that I didn’t want to work as hard as she did.

  That was why I decided that I wanted to be a chef. Cooking was something that I was good at, and I enjoyed it, so why not make money from it? Two weeks had passed since the fiasco with Daryn, and I was just ready to move on. What better way to do that than to go into the next phase of my life? I was about to graduate from Le Cordon Bleu, and I was ecstatic. Unlike traditional colleges and universities, the graduation was being held in August. My mother and brother were so proud of me, and I had to admit that I was actually proud of myself.

  “Oh my God, baby girl. You look amazing,” my mother said with tears glistening in her eyes.

  “Thanks, Mommy,” I said gratefully before planting a kiss on her cheek.

  “What are you thanking me for? I’m your mama. The only parent you’ve got. I did what I was supposed to do.” There was a huge smile on her face. “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

  I nodded, trying to keep my own tears at bay. “Yeah, I know Mama. You tell me all the time.”

  “Okay, let’s go. Your brother’s gonna meet us there. He’s got lil’ man with him.” She rolled her eyes. “His mama claims she has some business to handle. What that is, I’on known, since the trifling heifer ain’t never worked nowhere in her life.”

  The mention of my nephew Cameron made my day. He was three years old, and his mother, Imani, was a straight up thot who had no class whatsoever. I hated her ass, but I kept the peace because of Cam.

  “Forget that heifer.” I wasn’t going to let the thought of bashing that bitch’s face in ruin my mood.

  “You’re right about that.” My mother let out a snicker before grabbing her black clutch bag.

  “Let’s go, Ma. I got a graduation to attend.”

  She nodded. “Right. Yes, you do This is my child! She’s a chef!”

  I couldn’t help but grin because she was telling everybody she saw that I was graduating from culinary arts school.

  * * *

  When I was eighteen, I got pregnant by who, I thought at the time, was the love of my life. College had been in my plans before that, but I didn’t want to leave my baby. Me and Derrick broke up when I was seven months pregnant because I’d caught him with a bitch I couldn’t stand named Tarsha. To make a long story short, not long after that, I lost my baby.

  The trauma from that experience had really made me retreat and shut down. Any future that I may have thought about seemed dim and non-existent. I had to give
birth to my little girl, name her, and then fill out her death certificate. The experience was hell, but it made me stronger. After losing her, I thought I’d get back with her father, but I didn’t. It was time for me to move on, so I did. After years of working hard, I saved enough money to go to school.

  There I was, getting my Associate’s Degree in Culinary Arts at the age of twenty-five. Despite my past and all of the hurdles I’d jumped over, I didn’t lose my strength. Damn, I was one strong ass bitch. Nothing could bring me down, and I felt invincible. When I saw my besties, Tamia and Nicole, I was ecstatic.

  We all joined hands and squealed in excitement.

  “Congratulations!” they said in unison.

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t hold back the tears any longer.

  Shit, I was just so glad that they were there. The two of them had gone on to college after high school and had graduated four years ago. Yet and still, I’d been able to hold my own and had my own spot as well as a good job as an Office Assistant at an affluent law firm in Atlanta. I even had a part time gig as a bartender at the Wet Willies on Piedmont Road in Buckhead. Shit, I managed to drive a nice ass ride too. My silver, 2014 Beemer was in my name, and I made my payments on time every month.

  Now that I’d graduated, I could follow my dream of cooking at a five-star restaurant or hotel. Wow, I’d come so far, and I was ready to conquer the world. Okay, the endorphins were kicking in with the thought of success, but as far as I saw it, the sky was the limit.

  Tamia passed me a bunch of Congratulations Graduate balloons, a bouquet of lilies, and an envelope. Lilies were my favorite flower by the way.

  “Thank you,” I gushed.

  “That’s from both of us, bitch,” Nicole whispered.

  I cut my eye at her and smiled. “Thank you, Cole.”

  There was a satisfied look on her face. “You’re welcome, boo.”

  “Open it,” Tamia urged.

  I tore the envelope open, and my eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. “A plane ticket to Jamaica for… seven days and six nights!”

  “Yes, all-expense paid at a nice, five-star resort. Oh, it’s on and poppin’, boo!” Nicole yelled dramatically.

  Tamia shook her head at our friend’s antics. “Girl, we’ve been saving up for this for a while. You ain’t gotta worry about nothing. All you have to do is pack tonight and be on that plane with us tomorrow at two p.m.”

  “Aww, thanks, y’all.” My boos hugged me, and we made our way outside with my small family in tow.

  When I spotted that fuck nigga, Daryn, standing by my car, my heart dropped, and I let out a sigh.

  “This’ll only take a minute,” I threw over my shoulder.

  My brother gave me a hard look. He knew what was going on, and he wanted to beat that nigga’s ass.

  “You want me to handle that mufucka…”

  “Nah, I got this,” I assured him as I walked off. “Just go to your car, bro.”

  “Congrats, baby,” Daryn said with a white, toothy smile.

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t baby me, and I don’t need your sorry ass congratulations. Why are you here?”

  He looked down before passing me a gift bag that I hadn’t noticed in his hand.

  “I uh… I broke it off with…”

  I didn’t take his gift. “No thanks, and I don’t give a fuck. Please get away from my car, so I can leave.”

  There was pitiful look on his face. “I understand that you’re pissed and shit, but damn, don’t act like we ain’t have shit.”

  “We didn’t have shit, nigga. What the fuck you mean? You played my face the whole damn time. Don’t ruin this moment for me, Daryn. Just take your gift and leave please.”

  I glanced over at my family and friends, and they were all wearing screw faces.

  He must’ve noticed too because, suddenly, he backed down. “Okay, I’m gonna go, but I’ll call you later. I’ll hold onto your gift. You can get it whenever you want it.”

  “Hmm, don’t hold your breath waiting for that, and there’s no need to call me. I’m good on you.”

  His hand was on my waist, and my brother was ready to fuck that nigga up, despite the fact that he had his son. I gave him a look, so he grabbed Cam and walked off.

  “I just wanna make shit right with you, baby.”

  I pushed his hand away. “Just go. Please.”

  The look in my eyes must’ve let him know that I was serious.

  He sighed and removed his hand. “A’ight, Ma. We’ll talk later.”

  Instead of defying his wishes again, I just nodded. All I wanted him to do was leave me the fuck alone so that I could leave. I was ready to celebrate, and I wasn’t going to let him ruin my good mood. Fuck him. After getting drunk as hell, I was going to get up early in the morning and pack for my trip to Jamaica.

  I’d always wanted to visit the beautiful island of reggae music and some of the best food in the world. Damn, I needed that shit, and my girls were right on time. A vacation was exactly what I deserved after finally earning something that I’d worked so hard for. It was also on time being that I’d been through so much shit. I was ready to relax and have some drinks while lounging on the white sand. A bitch was ready for some sparkling, turquoise water, palm trees, and beautiful, tropical sun.

  Chapter 4

  Omari

  I got up bright and early, trying to sneak out before Angela or the kids woke up. This weekend was big for me. Matter-of-fact, it was my chance to show my skills as a deejay on a major platform. It was August, which meant it was Appleton Special Dream weekend in Negril, Jamaica. It was our eighth year, and we could definitely expect for it to be flooded with locals and foreigners from different countries. My sound system was playing, so me and my other deejay planned to be on the turntable all weekend long.

  I took a long shower as my mind raced off to all the previous years that the festival went on. All kinds of bitches swarmed Negril. I wasn’t going to lie; if Angela wasn’t with me, I would’ve flirted or probably even fucked a couple of dem Yankee gyals. This year I planned on leaving her ass at home. There was no need to take her with me because I was working anyway.

  My thoughts were quickly interrupted when I heard the shower curtain move.

  “Wha happen?” I quizzed as she stood in front of me, naked.

  “Wha you mean? Mi wan’ some dick. Last night, yuh sleep ‘pon di couch and pretend like you nuh wan’ mi pussy.”

  I really don’t; you fuss too much, I thought.

  I didn’t say that though. Instead, I pulled her in the shower and started kissing her. I rubbed on her breasts as she moaned. I wasn’t in the mood to make love. Honestly, I just wanted to fuck. I snatched up her little size three frame and wrapped her legs around my waist as I sank my wood deep inside of her.

  “Owwww, fuck mi, baby!” she screamed.

  “Yo, easy nuh. Yuh no wan’ wake up da yute’ dem.”

  I continued sinking my wood all the way in. She sank her teeth into my shoulder, which made me thrust harder.

  I felt my veins getting bigger, so I prepared to bust.

  “Cum inside of me, baby. Please cum inside of me,” she pleaded.

  I totally ignored her and pulled out. I put her down as the thick cum shot out into the tub, mixed with the water, and went down the drain.

  “What is your problem? You act like it’s a crime to bust in me,” she said with an attitude.

  I didn’t say anything. I just grabbed my washcloth, soaped it up, and started to wash off my wood. She stood there, cussing until she put her housedress back on. Then she stormed out the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  I shook my head. “Yo, this bloodclaat gyal never happy yet,” I said to myself.

  I turned the water off and stepped out of the tub.

  * * *

  I ironed my clothes, got dressed, and grabbed my clothes with my belongings. I was going to be in Negril for a few days. I walked into the kids’ room and stood there, watching them sou
nd asleep. I loved my children with everything in me, but I didn’t know how much longer I was going to stick around. Angela’s behavior was getting more out of control, and I didn’t want to hurt her. I kissed both of them on the cheek and then walked out.

  I made my way toward the kitchen, where Angela was.

  “I’m going to Negril. Won’t be back ‘til Monday. There is money in the drawer if you need anything.”

  She turned to face me, and I could see that she was crying.

  “Money? You tink money can fix every damn ting. I ‘ave my own money. Mi want a man dat care ‘bout me. I don’t need a man dat throw money at me. Yuh tink I don’t know it’s Dream weekend, hmm? Yuh gyal must be there. Why yuh didn’t tell me about it? Omar, yuh not fooling anyone but your damn self.”

  I could sit there and try arguing with Angela, but I was raised to believe, as a man, that you can’t win an argument against a woman. I turned around and walked out.

  * * *

  “Yo, my yute’, the place is packed,” my linky, Tony, said to me.

  “Hell yeah. I’m loving the vibes right now for real. Yo, let’s go blow one real quick.”

  We both walked out of the hall where I had set my music up. It was loud as Vybez Cartel’s Freaky Gyal played. On the way out, I noticed that the females were dressed to the teeth. Shit, most of them barely had any clothes on. A few tried to grab my arm as I made my way through the crowd.

  I rolled up a big spliff, and Tony and I started to smoke. I took a few drags of the ganja and started coughing. “Easy nuh, man. Mind yuh kill yuhself,” he joked.

  “Nah, this shit’s good. Shit,” I joked back.

  I passed him the spliff and turned around to face the crowd that was going inside. I looked and thought the weed had me seeing things, but nah. There was this bad ass bitch walking in. We locked eyes, and I couldn’t remove my stare.