Wifey Status

by Racquel Williams

  After the funeral, we went to a get-together they had for him. Symone got to meet his family, and it turned out well. His mom was happy to know she had a grandbaby on the way.

  Alijah and I talked, argued, then fucked. So much for being mad at him.

  Shayna Jackson

  Markus was always the bearer of bad news. He called me and told me that Darryl was killed. He could’ve saved that call. I could care less about any of Alijah’s sidekicks. Plus, me and Darryl never saw eye to eye from day one. I personally thought he was trying to be too much like Alijah. I even told him that I didn’t trust his boy and his motives. Instead, he turned it around on me saying that I was jealous of the bond they shared.

  Darryl was nothing but a womanizer. They said birds of a kind flocked together; no wonder Alijah became a whore. I wouldn’t be shocked if it was a bitter woman or some woman’s husband killed his ass.

  I called Alijah’s phone to express my condolences, but his voice mail came on. In a time like that, a husband needed his wife. God worked in a mischievous way because when I got home, Alijah was there in our bed asleep. It was so funny because he was lying on the same sheets I fucked Markus’s brains out on earlier that morning. It didn’t matter. What he didn’t know wasn’t going to hurt him. That was a close call, though. I didn’t expect him to come home.

  I took a shower and got in bed beside him, hugging him closely. He returned the gesture. For the night, we both blocked the outside world out and found comfort in each other’s arms.

  His phone kept ringing nonstop. I glanced at the ID, and it was from an unknown caller. Hmm . . . Somebody must be feeling lonely on that cold winter night. I smiled and rolled back over.

  In the morning, I got up and cooked breakfast: pancakes, eggs, and sausage with grits. I set the table and waited for Alijah to wake up. His eyes were bloodshot red. The last time that I saw him in that state was when I lost our baby.

  “I heard what happened to Darryl.” I stretched out my arm and touched his arm.

  “Yea, ma, my nigga gone.”

  I got up and walked over to him and rubbed his back. “He’s in a better place. God knows what’s best for us,” I said while rolling my eyes behind his back.

  We talked for about an hour. I listened to him as he reminisced about their time together, the women that they shared, murders they committed together. Things couldn’t get any better than that. Good things definitely come to those that wait, I thought.

  Alijah was so busy diving into self-pity that he never noticed that I was sitting beside him with a minitape recorder. Got you! I smiled and walked off.

  * * *

  I drove up to New York for the funeral. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. I bought me a nice cocktail dress for the occasion. I guessed I was the only one that was celebrating. I got me a hotel room at the Hilton in White Plains. I didn’t feel like staying at my mother-in-law’s house. I had to start distancing myself, because when all hell broke loose, I wanted no attachments.

  Later on, I drove out to Long Island. I hadn’t seen my parents in a while, not since we fell out over Alijah. I missed my mom, but more so my daddy. I’d always been Daddy’s little girl. At times, my mom would get jealous at all the attention that he showed me. I was hoping that our marriage would turn out like my parents’, but as I found out, Alijah was nothing like my father. He couldn’t walk a day in my father’s shoes.

  As I pulled up to the mansion that I grew up in, I felt nervous to face my folks, especially Daddy. Our conversation was always the same . . . “Sugar, when are you going to leave that drug-dealing boyfriend of yours and come on back home?”

  I would reply, “Daddy, he’s not a drug dealer. He’s a legitimate businessman who happens to be your son-in-law.”

  He would drop the subject just to bring it back up later. I kept ringing the doorbell, but no one answered. I dialed both their numbers, and their voice mails came on. I waited about five minutes; then I walked to the neighbor’s house. He had been our neighbor since we moved there. He was nosy as hell, so he should know where they were. I rang his doorbell. He looked confused when he opened the door.

  “Hello, it’s me, Shayna.”

  “Oh yes, yes, you so grown up. I didn’t recognize you.” He stared at my chest like he’d never seen breasts before. He had always been an old pervert.

  “Well, sorry to disturb you. I was looking for my parents, but they’re not home. Do you have any idea where they could be?”

  “They didn’t tell you they’d be on a three-week cruise across the Caribbean?”

  “No, I haven’t talked to them in a while. I should’ve called first. Anyway, thank you. I have to get going.”

  “Are you sure? You’re welcome to come in. We could do some catching up on old memories and even make a few new ones of our own.” He looked at me while batting his eyelashes.

  “I’m pretty sure that I have better things to do than spend my evening with a dirty old man like you.” I stormed off feeling disappointed. I was looking forward to spending some time with my parents.

  By the time I got back to my hotel, I was even more disappointed. I soaked in some bubble bath and sipped on a glass of Chardonnay. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Tomorrow is going to be a great day, I thought. A lot of bitches that my husband fooled around with would be showing their faces, but most important, that bitch Sierra was going to be there.

  I got in the bed around 11:00 p.m. I tried to call Alijah. I got no answer, so I called his mom. She hadn’t seen him either. Hmm . . . His cheating ass could be anywhere shacked up with one of his bimbos.

  I got up bright and early and called Alijah. “So, where you was at last night?” I waited for him to tell a big fat lie, like he was at his mom’s house.

  “Yo, ma, it’s too early to start naggin’. I’ma grown-ass man; don’t question me.”

  “You’re a married man too. You just don’t sleep wherever the fuck you choose to.”

  “Listen, B, don’t keep reminding me that I’m married to a psychotic bitch.”

  His lame ass hung up in my face.

  “Bastard! You are going to pay dearly,” I yelled at him, even though he was long gone.

  I was fascinated by the size of the funeral. This was my first drug-dealer funeral. They lived large and went out large. Fashion Day in the Big A was the way to describe the atmosphere. The police would have gotten a fat bonus from the mayor because I was sure they would have made some good money from illegal parking to illegal guns and drugs—you name it. I would’ve done well too; picked up some new clients, just like old times.

  The ceremony was long and boring. I could’ve stayed home or went shopping. It was crazy how when a person was living they were the worst, but as soon as they kicked the bucket, they were the most wonderful person in the world. When I croak, they can just cremate my ass because I don’t want no fake-ass pastor yelling over my damn body.

  I felt weird having all those people around me crying. Most of them were faking, and they didn’t really miss him. They were crying over his money. I just hoped his mother was smart enough to take out life insurance on him. She knew that her son was living recklessly, and that’s why I had a million dollars on Alijah’s head. With all the money he had, I was going to be one rich bitch—make that Ms. Rich Bitch!

  After the charade was over, I saw the bitch standing with all her friends. I walked up on her and two other project-looking bitches. I let her ass know that she wasn’t welcome. That bitch made my skin crawl. It was just something about her ass; I just couldn’t pinpoint it as of yet. I would’ve dug into her ass if I wasn’t looking so cute, but there’s a time and place for everything. When the bitch threatened me, I had murder on my mind. I would love to see her face when a slug from my nine millimeter hits her in the head.

  I walked back over to Alijah so I could return to playing my position as the doting wife. When I tried to hold on to him, he snatched his arm away.

  “What tha fuck you in Sierr
a face fo’? You ’on’t know how to fuckin’ act, B.”

  “What are you talking ’bout? I just said hello to her. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

  “Whateva, bitch! When we get back to Virginia, I’m done with yo’ ass. Better yet, why don’t you stay up here with yo’ peoples? Make yo’ daddy proud; stay the fuck away from me.”

  “Alijah, baby, calm down. It’s not that serious,” I said, looking around to make sure none of the haters were listening.

  “Bitch, get tha fuck outta my face. Yo, how ’bout you leave right now? Darryl wouldn’t want yo’ ass here anyway.”

  I couldn’t believe that he was talking to me like that, all because I stepped to his whore. Baby boy had the game twisted. No one talks to me like that and gets away with it. It wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to stay in New York, but I had big plans in Richmond, Virginia.

  As I walked off to go mingle, I was so furious I wanted to scream, but I brushed my shoulders off, kissed my mother-in-law good-bye, and headed back down South.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alijah Jackson

  I was back on the grind, still had a business to run. I kept a low profile. My homies handled any face-to-face that took place. I also brought back my longtime brethren Dread, a thoroughbred fresh from Jamaica. He also was a stone-cold killer who was trained with JDF. He was a trained sniper. I’d seen his work firsthand, so I needed him on my team.

  Sierra was showing her ass off like she wanted me to smack some sense into her so she could quit tripping. I never understood how females act so good when you first meet them, but soon after you fuck them, they switch up the game.

  I also got word that I was on Richmond’s most wanted, and not by the jakes, but by Creighton niggas looking to avenge their boys’ deaths. See, them little niggas didn’t learn a damn thing.

  They weren’t ready to go to war against me. I was ready to wipe the whole hood out: kids, mamas—everybody had to go.

  I switched up my cars and went through the hood several times just scoping out the scene. They didn’t even see me. Again, I caught them slipping.

  I decided to holla at Sierra. A lot had been on my mind lately. I wasn’t feeling her hanging out with Li’l Mo’s chickenhead ass. I bet that I could’ve fucked her if I wanted to, but I wouldn’t even cross that path. She looked like the type that couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

  “Lemme rap wit’ you,” I said and signaled Sierra to sit down.

  “I’m busy. I got to get in the shower so I can meet up with Symone and Mo’. It’s girls’ night out,” she said with a stupid look on her face.

  “Yo, B, sit the fuck down and shut up. I been laid back while you run around here like a chicken wit’ its head cut off, but this is important, so you going to listen whether or not you like it. Yo, B, you know the whole situation, so you know I’m hot right now. With that said, I have to be able to trust the people that’s around me 100 percent.”

  I paused and looked her dead in the eyes to make sure she understood the seriousness of what I was saying; then I continued. “I know you grew up with these niggas, and y’all got history together, but that’s exactly what it is . . . history. So, right now, I need to know who you ridin’ wit’?”

  “Alijah, what you tryin’a say—I’m not loyal?”

  “B, I’m saying, are you down for me or not?”

  “I love you; of course, I’m wit’ you. What the fuck I look like . . . a fucking snake? I know what’s going on with y’all, but I know where my loyalty lies,” she said, tears rolling down her cheeks.

  “That’s what a nigga need to know. I’m not sleeping with the enemy. Ma, I need you to be cautious of your surroundings at all times. Whenever you comin’ to the house, make sure you circle the block at least two times; make sure you are not being followed.”

  I knew if niggas couldn’t get to me, they’d use her as bait. I couldn’t risk that happening. I knew shorty was hurting that she had to choose between her homeboys and me, but in the streets, you can only be loyal to one. In my mind, I kind of felt guilty, because the whole time I was testing shorty, if she had shown any signs of weakness, I would’ve put her to sleep forever. In my world, it’s death before dishonor, and loyalty was everything.

  I was going over my statements that Markus brought over. I wasn’t no Wall Street-type nigga, but I was good at math, especially adding numbers. I looked over my statement for the past year, and the result I kept gettin’: my money kept coming up short every single month. Over ten grand was missing every month. It was unbelievable that snake-ass nigga was stealing right under my nose. Now I fully understood why his ass was acting weird when I paid him that visit the other day.

  I rubbed my hand over my face. “Oh God, oh my, oh my,” I said. I just lost one homie, and now I had to take the life of another. I wished there was another way out, but holmes been violating me right under my nose.

  I went directly to Saleem. I hadn’t seen much of him since I came back. We sat down and kicked it.

  “Whaddup, bro?”

  “Peace, my brotha.” He gave dap.

  “How you been holding up?”

  “I’m livin’, just lying low, tryin’a stay alive,” I said.

  “Good to see you in a better frame of mind.”

  “Listen, I’m just passing through, but I need to holla at you ’bout some shit I found out.”

  “Speak to me, brotha.”

  “Yo, ’member when I told you holmes was acting strange? Well, I found out why. He’s been fuckin’ with my paper.”

  “What?”

  “Yea, I’m pretty sure. He the only one that handle my money.”

  “You confront him yet?”

  “Nah, I’ma kill him.”

  “Mmm, handle yo’ business.”

  “I got it, but I’ma need yo’ cleanup crew.”

  “A’ight. Just lemme know when and where, and I’ma handle this one personally.”

  “Now that’s settled, I’ma be outta the country fo’ a week. I’ma need you to keep niggas under control.”

  “Word, business or pleasure?”

  “A little pleasure. Wanna take Sierra to Jamaica. We been going through a lot lately. I’ma treat her to a week in the sun.”

  “When you leaving?”

  “This weekend.”

  “A’ight, brotha, enjoy your trip.”

  “A’ight, bro, one.”

  I stopped by my travel agent and picked up two round-trip tickets to Kingston, Jamaica. It was Thanksgiving weekend, so niggas were getting ready to get their party on. I had everything under control. My niggas were on point, and I was ready to go.

  I stopped by Shayna’s house to grab a few items I had left over there. I was happy that she was not there. I didn’t want to hear her mouth or see the sight of her, not after the way she behaved in New York.

  Something strange hit me when I entered the bedroom. A scent hit my nose. I stood for a minute, trying to analyze the situation. It wasn’t a female scent . . . That was Fahrenheit Cologne for men. I’d never used it before, so it was weird that the room was drowning with it.

  I walked over to the messed up bed and smelled the sheets. They were covered with the same scent. I knew that unless Shayna had started to use men’s cologne all of a sudden, it was definitely a nigga that was laid up in the sheets in my muthafuckin’ bed!

  I hit the door to release some frustration. Whoever that nigga was, he was one bold muthafucka coming up in my crib. Whenever I find out who it was, they were both going to be dead. That sneaky-ass bitch kept stressing me about Sierra, and all along, her trifling ass was fucking someone. She was going to regret that she ever met me.

  Sierra Rogers

  I was happy to be back home. Even though I liked New York, Richmond was my home. I was getting tired of all the up-and-down dealing with Symone’s nervous breakdown. I was definitely drained. I felt pity for her.

  A few days after the funeral, Mo’ went and checked on her and found her passed
out on the kitchen floor, overdosed on a bottle of Percocet. Thank God for Mo’ who got her to the hospital just in time to get her stomach pumped.

  I rushed over to Community Hospital after I got the news. I was happy that the doctors acted fast and saved her and the baby’s life. It was out of our hands after that point. The hospital called the psych for her and had her on suicide watch.

  I heard my phone ringing and dug into my pocketbook to get it. I hoped it was Alijah, but when I looked at the number, I didn’t recognize it.

  “Hello,” I answered.

  “Hey, bitch,” Neisha answered.

  “I didn’t know you remembered this number,” I said sarcastically.

  “Bitch, stop trippin’. Where you at? I need to talk to you,” she said with urgency in her voice.

  Against my better judgment, I gave her my address.

  “I be right over.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” I said with an attitude.

  I wasn’t really up for company, but I wanted to know what she had been up to lately and why she’d been acting all funny toward me. I got up and brushed my teeth, washed my face, and made me a cup of hot chocolate.

  Soon, I heard a car pull up. I was surprised the bitch finally got her a car. When I opened the door, I barely recognized the person that was walking toward me. She had lost a lot of weight, and her weave looked like an old map. She had bags underneath her eyes like she had been up for days. She looked like a crackhead that had been on a crack binge.

  “Hey, gurl.” She tried to hug me.

  I gave her a slight hug, still in shock over her appearance. “Come in, it’s cold out here.”

  She stepped inside of the house and looked on with amazement. “Damn, bitch, this how you living?”

  “Yup, this how the queen living,” I bragged.