“Hello,” I said, sounding annoyed. “I said hello.”
“Hello, who is this?” a female voice whispered.
“Listen, you called my damn phone, so what you want?”
“Oh, you must be the bitch that’s sleeping with my husband.”
This bitch caught me off guard, but I recognized the voice. I got out of the bed and tiptoed into the hallway, careful not to wake Alijah up.
“Nah, bitch, get it right. We’re sleeping together, and how the fuck you got my number anyways?” I asked in a fierce tone.
“Just so you know, you’re just another one of the flings. Don’t feel special. He’ll get tired of your stank ass soon,” she stuttered.
“Listen up, you stalkin’-ass bitch. Don’t be mad ’cause yo’ man done replaced yo’ saddity ass. Take that shit up wit’ yo’ husband. Oops! I forgot. That’s right, he’s right here in my bed.”
I hung the phone up in that ho’s face. I was heated. She got some fucking nerve calling my phone. I just knew I’d have to whup that ass sooner or later.
I used the bathroom and got back in bed beside my boo. My nerves were bad. I couldn’t fall asleep because my cell kept ringing. This time, I didn’t give a rat’s ass if I woke Alijah up. Hell! The bitch was his fucking problem.
“Hello,” I screamed at the top of my lungs.
“Who tha fuck was that, yo?” Alijah said, disgruntled.
“Why don’t you ask yo’ wife, and how the fuck she got my number?”
“That was Shayna?”
“Yup, she been callin’ nonstop for the last ten minutes.”
“Word?”
He got up, took his cell phone, and walked out of the room, closing the bedroom door behind him. I figured he wanted privacy. I ended up dozing off before he could finish with that psychotic bitch.
Alijah Jackson
Shayna went overboard when she called Sierra’s phone. The bitch must’ve gone through my phone. I wondered what else she was digging into.
I really hated going off on her ’cause the drama that she went through, but she was gon’ get it together or get the fuck outta my life. Every time we tried talking about it, it would turn into a fight with her putting her hands on me. I told her ass the next time I was gon’ beat her ass down like Ike whupped Tina’s ass.
By the time that I got up, Sierra was gone. I remembered her mentioning something ’bout getting her hair done. I took a shower, got dressed, and headed out to Chesterfield. I knew Shayna was still on her bullshit. It’d be nice when she returned to work. She had too much free time on her hands.
I parked my car in the driveway, just in case I needed to leave in a rush. As I walked through the house, it was like a tornado had just hit down. Things were all over the place. I walked in the living room where I figured she’d be since the TV was blasting. She was sitting on the couch humming some shit and rocking back and forth. The bitch was looking like the chick in Fatal Attraction, so I kept my distance.
“Yo, what you call me ova here fo’?” I asked wit’ an attitude.
“You bastard! How could you treat me like this? I’ve stuck wit’ yo’ dirty black ass through everything, and this how you do me?”
“Yo, B, watch yo’ mouth!” I warned.
“Or what, Alijah? You gon’ beat my ass?”
“Nah, B, that’d be too easy. I’ma leave yo’ crazy ass alone.”
I must’ve hit a nerve ’cause this deranged bitch came full force off the sofa and tried to slap me in the face. I grabbed her arm.
“Shayna, keep yo’ fuckin’ hands to yourself, ’cause I already told you the next time, I’ma beat the life outta you.”
I let her arm go as I stared down on her. I didn’t recognize the person that was standing in front of me. When I met her, she was confident, catered to my needs, but after the miscarriage, she turned into a psycho bitch.
She started to cry. I wasn’t gon’ let her get to me, though. I was at the point where I didn’t give a fuck. I was gonna cut my losses and keep it moving. If I stayed around, I was gon’ end up hurting her—and not mentally but physically.
I stormed out of the house thinking, Why the fuck did I come over here? It was not worth the aggravation. I hated this stupid bitch.
Shayna Jackson
I had just finished downing my last drop of vodka, and I was pissy drunk. I kept replaying Vivian Green’s “Emotional Roller Coaster” on the CD player. That’s how my life felt lately. My marriage was in disarray. I tried calling Markus, but he didn’t answer the phone. I was feeling drunk and horny.
I totally forgot that I had found the bitch’s number that Alijah was fucking in his phone. So I dialed the number.
“Hello.”
I was going to hang up, but I had to find out what was going on between those two. I got straight to the point with her sneaky ass, but the bitch laughed in my face as if I was a joke to her. It was a disaster. That bastard was in bed with her. The bitch had the nerve to hang up in my face. This hood bitch must not know who she was fucking with, and she better be prepared because she was in the big league now.
I kept calling her back-to-back. They were not going to enjoy each other’s company on my time. I was pretty sure he was laid-back listening to that bitch disrespect me. Then he had the nerve to call me. I wasn’t trying to hear his lying, cheating ass, so I hung up on him and crawled up into my bed, thinking tomorrow will be a better day.
The next day, this asshole had the nerve to show his fucking face. To make matters worse, he ridiculed me and put his fucking hands on me. He treated me like one of his hoes in the streets, but being the strong, motivated bitch I was, I drank some more and contemplated my next move.
Chapter Nine
Alijah Jackson
I stayed at the Telly with Luscious. I hadn’t been giving her no time. I’d been occupied with Sierra’s lovin’ and Shayna’s eccentric behavior.
Sierra kept blowin’ up my phone, so I turned it off. Now wasn’t the time to explain myself. I would deal with the consequences later.
Mami didn’t speak much English, so we didn’t have much of a conversation. Her actions spoke louder than her words. Her favorite line was “Mucho dinero, Papi.” I didn’t mind peeling her off ’cause her service was top quality.
I woke up lookin’ around. That’s when I remembered where I was. Shorty was in the shower. I grabbed my boxers and covered my naked behind. Shit, I had somewhere I needed to be. I cut my phone on. Fuck! I was late. It was past ten o’clock.
“Good morning, Papi.”
“Whaddup, Ma?”
She came out of the bathroom in just her lacy drawers set, revealing her enticing, naked body. She gave me a half smile. If I wasn’t rushing, I’d beat that pussy up one more time, but, nah, business came before pleasure, and I was already running late.
“You are leaving already?” she questioned in a mischievous tone.
“Yea, ma, I got some business to handle.”
She looked at me disappointed. “Could you drop me off at the club, so I could pick up my car?”
“Sure, let’s go.” I handed her a thousand dollars.
“Thank you, Papi.”
“No problem, Ma.”
* * *
I dropped her off and headed back to the city. I was pushing almost 100 mph when I heard the jakes’ siren behind me, and I pulled over. A big, burly, donut-eating pig walked toward my car. Without hesitation, I let the window down. I took out my license and registration.
“Hello, sir, were you aware you were going 95 mph in a 35 mph zone?”
“No, sir,” I said, trying to be polite.
“License and registration, please.”
I handed them to him. He headed back to his car. By now, his boy had showed up. I felt nervous, even though I knew I was straight. Luckily, I wasn’t riding dirty. He came back and handed me my shit along with a ticket.
“Be more careful, young man,” he warned.
“Thank you, sir. I’ll take h
eed.”
I pulled off slowly until I was out of sight. I dialed Sierra’s number. I knew she was tight with me. I didn’t have much time to waste. I had to meet up with this cat. He wanna cop half a brick. It was a big come up from the ozes he usually copped, but I was happy to see a little dude handlin’ his B.I.
“Hello,” Sierra answered the phone.
“Whaddup, ma? Before you get mad, lemme explain. I was jive busy handlin’ some things.”
“Whatever, Alijah, you ain’t got to explain shit to me. You alive; that’s all I was worried about.”
I felt terrible. She sure deserved better than what I was dishing out.
“Ma, listen up. Look in the closet. You’ll see a black duffel bag. Put in yo’ pocketbook and bring it down. I need you to ride wit’ me.”
She didn’t question me. That’s one of the things I liked about Sierra. She wasn’t into all that drama and headaches bitches be bringing to a nigga.
I let her drive. I was tired from all that fucking. I looked in my side mirror and peeped a dark-colored Sedan following us, ever since we hit Church Hill. I didn’t recognize the car. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me ’cause the car disappeared when I glanced back in the mirror. I really needed to get this paranoia under control.
Sierra pulled over behind a Geo truck. Nothing seemed out of pocket, and my burner was in place, extra clips in my pocket. The door to the building was ajar. As I stepped foot in the door, I knew the vibe wasn’t right, but it was a minute too late to back out.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
I didn’t have time to pull my nine from my waist.
Sierra Rogers
I tossed and turned. I looked at the clock on the nightstand. His ass still didn’t make it home, and his phone was turned off. This had become a pattern—couple days here, then he’d go MIA.
I wasn’t stunting him because I was the one laid up in this brand-new crib with a brand-new car. I was the one fucking him any way his heart desired, or should I say, his dick desired. I was his Bottom Bitch.
I didn’t have to go to work; the hot water tank broke. Charley should be ashamed of how he handles the business. All that money he was making off of us, and he still wouldn’t invest in fixing up the shop. I found me a shop. I have to meet the landlord. I was getting impatient. The atmosphere at work was getting hostile, and I was ready to bust one of them hating-ass bitches in the head. Mark my words.
I took a shower even though I didn’t have any plans. I threw some sweatpants on with a baby tee, made me some hot wings, kicked back, and started to watch Jerry Springer. They had some faggots on their rumbling. I was in need of a good laugh anyways.
When my phone started to ring, I answered it. It was Alijah on the other end trying to explain himself to me. I stopped him before he could finish lying to me. Whatever he was saying wasn’t nothing but some irrelevant bullshit. I was happy that he was safe and sound.
He asked me to grab a bag and ride with him.
“Where we off to?” I questioned since I was the one driving.
“We are headin’ ’round Church Hill,” he said bluntly.
I handed him the bag, then I adjusted my seat and took off. I was no fool, and I knew that drugs were inside. I cut through Shockoe Bottom and was in Church Hill in no time.
“Yo, go down Thirty-second Street.”
“Thirty-second?” I asked with confusion on my face. I wondered who he knew around there.
The niggas that lived on Thirty-first, Thirty-second, and Thirty-third were all known for their heartlessness. Danger was imminent. I kept my feelings to myself, though, and I hoped nothing was about to jump off.
“Pull over right here and keep the engine runnin’. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I watched as he disappeared into the building. The number on the apartment said 600 N. Thirty-second Street. A dark blue Cadillac Seville drove by. I tried to see inside, but the windows were tinted black.
A feeling of uneasiness rushed over me. I opened my pocketbook; my .22 was intact. It wasn’t no match for the big burners, but that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. I kept looking toward the door. I saw no sign of Alijah. All I heard were back-to-back gunshots ring out from inside the apartment that Alijah went into. I saw two niggas with ski masks haul ass; then I heard tires screeching. It was the same car from earlier. The two dudes jumped in the car and sped off. I caught the license plate before they turned the corner onto Leigh Street.
There was still no sign of Alijah. Fuck that. I jumped out and ran into the apartment that was wide open. With my weapon in my hand, I ran toward where the sound came from. I didn’t know what lay ahead for me. All I knew was that my man was up in there possibly hurt or even dead.
“Aagh, aagh,” I heard someone groan.
“Alijah! Alijah!”
Still no answer.
Damn, it was stinking in there. This was nothing but a smitty. Damn, I knew then it was set up. They set Alijah up.
“Ma, I’m right here in the back,” a faint voice echoed.
“Alijah! Alijah!” I rushed to the back of the house. “Oh my God. Oh my God!”
Alijah was lying there with blood all over him.
“What happened, baby?”
He looked at me. “Them niggas robbed me, ma. I’m shot.”
“Where they shoot you at?”
“I think my stomach,” he said, with his voice fading away.
“Stay with me, Alijah,” I begged while tears flowed down my face.
“Come on, boo, let’s get you to the car.”
Now, this boy was built, so I didn’t know where the strength came from. I put one of his arms over my shoulder to hold his weight up. He fought to keep up with me. I practically dragged him into the Jeep. He kept moaning.
“Ma, did you get the burner?”
“Yup, it’s right here.” I had it in my coat pocket.
I reversed back, then pulled off. I thought about calling the ambulance but decided not to. I was taking him to the hospital. As I looked back at him lying on the backseat, I noticed him falling in and out of consciousness.
“God, no, please don’t do this,” I whispered a prayer to God.
I took his gun out of my coat and put it in my pocketbook. I was sure going to jail if they searched me, but this wasn’t the time to be selfish. My man’s life was on the line. I ran every red light on my way to MCV. I pulled into the emergency entrance, jumped out, and started to yell.
“Help! Help! My boyfriend is shot.”
They must’ve heard me because they came running from all angles.
“What happened, ma’am?” a policeman asked me.
I showed him Alijah. “He’s shot in the stomach.”
“Please, get back,” a doctor said, rushing over.
They put him on a stretcher and started to check his pulse.
“He’s breathing; we got a pulse,” a nurse confirmed.
They rushed him to the back of the emergency room. Then the police officer came to me. “Ma’am, please come with us.”
I followed them outside.
“So, tell us what happened to your friend.”
It wasn’t my place to tell them what happened. See, Alijah didn’t have much love for the po-po, so I was going to wait. I really hoped he pulled through. Then if he wanted to, he could talk to them, even though I doubted that.
After the detectives saw that they weren’t getting anywhere with me, they gave me their card, in case I had a change of heart. God was on my side because the bastards didn’t search me.
I went outside to get some air. That’s when I broke down. I wasn’t the holiest person in the world, but I got down on my knees and started to pray to the Almighty. I couldn’t lose Alijah; we just got started. I wanted to get married and have a whole bunch of badass kids.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. I quickly turned around, ready to knock the fuck out of whoever it was. I put my fist down, though, when I saw it was an older lady with silver hair smiling do
wn at me. My first thought was Who is this old bitch invading my space?
“Listen, lady, this isn’t a good time,” I said, using my hands to wipe away the mucus that was running down my nose.
“Chile, the Lord doesn’t give you more than you can bear. Give him whatever you dealing wit’. He’ll take care of it.” She placed her arm on my shoulder. “Pray about it, and it will be all right,” she said in the most sincere tone.
It might’ve been a mind thing, but I felt like a burden was suddenly lifted off of me. I turned around to thank her, but she was gone. I looked around, but it was as if she was never there.
It was exactly one o’clock in the morning, and I was still in the waiting room trying to get an update on Alijah. Earlier, I went through his phone and called his boy, Darryl. Even though I never met him, I knew Alijah would want him there. He came with three other dudes. They couldn’t see him because he was still in surgery. Darryl was heated. He just paced back and forth. I tried explaining the little I knew. All the while, he kept swearing he was going to kill whoever was responsible for touching his brother. I saw the venom in his eyes when he spoke.
His boy, Chuck, had the audacity to question me about where I was when his boy was getting shot up. See, I knew what he was trying to imply.
“Nigga, I was where he told me to be,” I said with a serious look on my face.
The time that they were wasting by being up in my face, they should have been out getting at the niggas who were responsible for hurting their boss.
“Miss, your friend is finally out of surgery. He’s in the ICU. Follow me.”
Alijah was lying in the bed. If it wasn’t for his name tag, I wouldn’t have recognized him. He was swollen, with all those tubes running through his body, and his color was a dark purple. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I touched him on his face. He was asleep, so I just stood there looking at him.
“Miss, your friend here is a fighter. He took three bullets to the abdomen. We lost him twice, but between his will to live and our experience, he’s still with us. However, with gunshot victims, the first seventy-two hours are critical, but I have faith he’ll be all right.”
Wifey Status Page 7