Secrets of a Side Bitch 2

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Secrets of a Side Bitch 2 Page 12

by Jessica Watkins


  “Mama, I do not…”

  “Listen to me, damn it!” Her body shook as her voice escalated.

  I laid my hand on her knee. “Calm down, mama.”

  “No! You need to calm down. You need to calm down, son.”

  I saw that she was upset. I saw that she was so angry that her nerves were causing her to tremble. I couldn’t take anything happening to my mother; not a heart attack, not a stroke, not even a cold. So, I shut up despite my insides burning with irritation.

  I didn’t want to hear this shit. I made it through the day without dwelling on Aeysha and Dahlia. She wanted to have a deep and heartfelt conversation about some shit that I couldn’t handle. It was going to make her feel better by getting it off her chest, but I was going to walk out of there with an even heavier burden on my mind that would lead me to doing something bad- very bad.

  “You ain’t the only one dealing with death. You forget that I am your mother, so I feel your pain too. Aeysha was like a daughter to me. Don’t forget, I was the last person that she talked to that day. She went outside because of me…”

  The memory was so painful that my mother’s tears came out in despair. She clutched her chest with one hand and covered her leaking eyes with the other. I hurriedly wrapped my arms around her and rocked her gently as soft wails escaped her mouth.

  “It's okay, mama.”

  “I sent her outside.”

  “I didn’t answer the phone,” I said through my own tears.

  “Stop shutting me out, baby. Stop being so hard. I wanted to say goodbye to the only living memory of Aeysha. That was my first grandbaby. You took that from me.”

  “I’m sorry, mama.” My voice cracked as my heart did as well. I allowed myself to cry and miss Dahlia just like she did. “I didn’t say goodbye either. We can go say goodbye together, okay?”

  She didn’t respond. She just cried. She held me and just cried into my chest.

  And I let her, while I allowed myself to shed stubborn tears of my own.

  Gia

  No matter how much Rae was irritating me, I could not believe that she was gone.

  No matter our recent separation, she had been such a part of my daily routine. Even after we broke up, I had become accustomed to hearing her voice every day, even if it was her begging to get back with me or cursing me out for fucking with Chance.

  “Where do you want these boxes?”

  I told Chance to take the boxes of clothes to the second bedroom. From there, I planned to sort everything out and store what was needed in the closet of the master bedroom.

  I was moving into a new house. After Rae’s suicide, there was no way that I was going to keep living there. The day she shot herself, I left and had only gone back to pack. The bloody comforter was still on the bed, which stunk like a dead body. Evidence of the paramedics and coroner being in my bedroom was still sprawled everywhere.

  Just the thought gave me eerie and horrified chills. I forced myself to focus on the box of kitchen appliances that I was unpacking. But it wasn’t working. As I unpacked the electric can opener, toaster, and blender, Rae’s dejected words rang in my head over and over again.

  I felt so helpless. Initially, I felt so independent, as if I had to leave Rae for me. Now, I felt like I should have handled her with kid gloves. I knew her story. I knew that she was lonely. I knew that she had no one in her life like me.

  Yet, I was so selfish and so dick-mitized that I was reckless with her heart. When I thought about my life before her suicide, I felt good about leaving her. I was free. I was light hearted. Chance had little to do with that, but he still added to the joy of my daily life.

  Now, I wondered if it was all worth it.

  I watched Chance walking around drunkenly; barely able to carry the boxes that he was transporting. I wondered was throwing him in Rae’s face worth it. We weren’t in a committed relationship. I was enjoying being single, and he was enjoying getting his life back in order. But we both were very real with each other about how much we liked each other. I was even throwing myself out on a limb by dating his young ass.

  However, things had changed recently. I guess the sight of a woman with her head nearly blown off would put things into a different perspective for anybody. It was definitely putting things into a difference perspective for me; which was why I was wondering what was up with the sudden change that I was seeing in Chance.

  All of a sudden, he was drunk most of the time. When he wasn’t, he was short, bitter, and angry. Something was wrong with him, and it wasn’t me. But I didn’t sign up to be in another fucked up situation with a significant other. I didn’t sign up to babysit another grown motherfucker with issues.

  Chance

  After leaving Gia’s new crib, I headed over to the spot in Riverdale. My stomach was bubbling. I was nervous as fuck. A few weeks ago I was about this life. I was ready to do what the fuck I had to do to survive. But this; this was something I never wanted to do.

  Not again.

  Especially to somebody else that didn’t deserve it.

  All day, I’d tried to calm my nerves by drinking away the fear and dread that consumed me since me, Omari, and Capone had that talk outside his condo.

  That shit wasn’t working though.

  As I road down 147th Street towards the spot, my cell phone rang. I was riding in silence; having a mental conversation with myself and my conscience. The bright lights of my cell and that screeching ringtone scared the fuck outta me.

  I answered immediately when I saw that it was Simone.

  “What’s up?”

  I hadn’t talked to her since I saw her at the condo. Yet, she’d been texting me nonstop saying how she was going to fix this.

  How was she going to fix something so fucked up was beyond me. But she was known to pull one hell of a rabbit out of her hat, so who knew what she would come up with.

  “Where are you?”

  “On my way to the spot.”

  She huffed and puffed. “You can’t keep working for him.”

  “What the fuck am I suppose to do? Until you come up with some cash, I’m trappin’.”

  “Trap somewhere else!”

  “Where?!”

  Her smart ass didn’t have an answer for that.

  “Shit. Don’t you think if I had an option, I would have been on it already?”

  As always, she changed her tone. She was sweet, nurturing and somewhat lustful. She used the same tone while I was living in transitional housing, telling me that her brother’s ex-wife was a dirty bitch taking him for everything and beating his daughter; a dirty bitch whose life was worth twenty-five thousand dollars that was supposed to change my fucked up life.

  “You need to leave, Chance.”

  I laughed hysterically. “Shit, the way shit is going down, sounds like you need to leave too.”

  Silence.

  “Oh, but I forgot. You jumped through so many hoops to get this nigga that you too sprung to leave.”

  It was funny how no matter how much proof I had, she still danced around her truth.

  “This is cutting it too close. They are still investigating her murder.”

  That made the bubbles in my gut dance like the Twerk Team. I was wrong for killing Aeysha. I would probably kill myself with alcohol, then eventually drugs, by trying to float through the guilt.

  But I be damned if I end up in prison for some shit that I was coerced into doing.

  Simone took my silence as weakness, an opportunity to convince me. “You have to leave.”

  “I can’t leave without any money. Set me up and I’ll bounce.”

  I was willing to bounce. This shit was becoming too hectic. I needed to get the fuck away from these motherfuckers.

  “I don’t have any,” she groaned.

  “Well, find some.” Then, I took her silence for weakness. “I’m not leaving again without a cushion. Yea, I fucked up the first time, but I won’t let it happen again. I understand you want me gone. Shit, I wa
nna be gone too. Shit is getting way to thick around here.”

  She chuckled sarcastically. “Hell, how can it get any thicker than this?”

  I had an answer for her rhetorical question. “They’re about to kill Ching.”

  “What?”

  “Tonight. That’s why I was at the condo that day. He wants to kill Ching. He thinks he killed Aeysha. I ain’t for killing another innocent person. What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  Simone snuffed out my guilt. She caught how weak I was in this; how close I was to the edge. “Well, kill him!”

  “What?!”

  “Kill him! Do what the fuck you gotta do to keep yourself from looking suspect. He didn’t kill Aeysha, but Ching has been in the game for years. Do you know how many people he probably killed?!”

  Once again, I couldn’t believe the pure audacity of this bitch. She was willing to do anything, take any steps, to keep this shit going. But everything she was doing, every step she was taking, was about covering her ass and to keep herself in a sweet position.

  My heart was heavy. I was stuck in between a rock and a hard place. I didn’t want to kill again. I didn’t want innocent blood on my hands again. But I also didn’t want these niggas looking at me suspect because I was bowing out.

  As I pulled up in front of the spot, Capone and Omari were standing out front waiting on me. I knew that I had to do what I had to do.

  “You have to go along with this. Otherwise they will suspect something,” Simone told me, seemingly begging. “Kill him.”

  Omari

  I expected to be reluctant.

  I expected to be scared.

  I expected to want to turn around.

  But the closer we got to Ching’s crib, I only felt assurance.

  After visiting with my mother and seeing her pain, I wanted nothing else than to get rid of the man that did this to us. Sure, I played a big part in it all, but I was spending every day of my life killing myself slowly.

  Chance drove the beater as we coasted down the e-way. He was silent and looked focused. I figured Capone and I needed an extra hand. I didn’t know who would be at Ching’s crib or how many. I immediately thought of Chance. Though new to the game, out of all the block boys, he seemed the smartest and most dedicated. He was focused. He had the same struggles as I did when I got in the game. He wasn’t just some young nigga trying to serve because he thought it was cool. He was out there to survive.

  His hustle was real.

  We pulled into the alley behind Ching’s crib. From being in there hundreds of times, I knew we could get in through the back door. I didn’t want him to see me coming. I knew that if he did, there would be heavy gunfire exchanged. I just wanted this shit to be quick and easy in order to keep any harm from coming to Capone and Chance.

  I salivated at the thought of watching Ching die. It excited me that I was going to be able to look him square in the eye when I pulled the trigger. I wanted to be so close to him when he died that the splatter of his blood mixed with my sweat.

  The snow and ice made crunching noises beneath our boots. It was two in the morning, so it was quiet as hell outside. Capone and Chance followed me like obedient and loyal soldiers as we crept through the backyard towards the back door.

  I had it all planned out, so there was no need for us to make a sound. As soon as we reached the back door, I shot two bullets through the keyhole. After throwing the door open, I ran up the back steps and kicked down the door that lead to his kitchen. The house was pitch black and quiet. I wasn’t expecting that. Ching basically stayed up twenty-four hours a day, and Capone had gotten word from his dip from the West Side that one of her friends was fucking Ching and with him that night. She even called Capone earlier and told him that her girl was texting her from Ching’s crib.

  That’s when we decided to make the move.

  But as I walked through the crib, I noticed that, besides it being dark, it was pretty empty. I went into Ching’s bedroom and noticed that his TV was gone. I opened drawers and saw that clothes were missing.

  “Shit.”

  Capone and Chance realized the same shit that I did.

  “He bounced,” Capone said with a laugh. “This nigga ran.”

  Chance stood at the door, gun still in hand, finger still on the trigger. “What you wanna do?”

  They both stood staring at me waiting on instructions that I didn’t have. It was crazy how disappointment consumed me to the point that I couldn’t think. That night was supposed to be the night. It was supposed to be over with the pull of a trigger. The burden was going to be lifted. The hate was going to be out of my heart. I was supposed to be able to start living again.

  When it was supposed to be over, things were feeling like they had just begun.

  Thirteen

  Gia

  I rolled over the next morning with attempts to get things back to normal. It had been a couple of days since I moved into my new place. The house smelled new; like fresh paint. The sheets were new and fresh. The down comforter kept me and Chance warm and cozy.

  I knew that he was awake. He had been tossing and turning all night and morning for some reason. He was still in a funky mood and lying to me; saying that nothing was wrong.

  To make us both feel something close to normal, I sensually crawled on top of him. Between my legs was a morning wood strong enough to knock my teeth out. I slid down on it slowly. As I did so, our eyes met. The chemistry that shot through my body when we stared into each other’s eyes was missing like a late period.

  However, my pussy still leaked naturally in anticipation of his dick being inside of me. I was able to easily slide down on it once on my tip toes.

  As I rode him, we both made soft lustful sounds, but something was definitely different. There was tension between us. There was no excitement in our horny moans. The lust that was once there was replaced with strain and pressure similar to a couple that had been together for ten years.

  I even felt his dick losing an erection amongst my walls. At first, I tried to keep riding him, hopping up and down slowly, in hopes that it would encourage his dick to come back and play. But that wasn’t working. Slowly, his erection ran out of the room, like it was a scared little boy, until the point that his dick was falling out of me.

  I didn’t give up though. Things had to get back to normal. Being with Chance had to work.

  I wanted the happiness back that I felt just a few weeks ago. We weren’t in love and my life wasn’t perfect, but being happy again would make me feel like I was right for leaving Rae. At first, I was so justified for being selfish and moving on. Yet, her death had me rethinking every choice that I made these last couple of months.

  Her death was on my conscience.

  I disappeared underneath the covers and came face to face with his dick. I was so let down when my eyes met it and saw that it was lying nonchalantly and lackadaisically on his thigh.

  I began to bathe it with spit and lust, but it still lay lifeless inside of my mouth.

  I knew I had a good head game. If anything, I was a beast at sucking dick. On many occasions, Chance fought hard to keep from cumming prematurely in my mouth. My mouth was like a Jacuzzi. There was no reason for his dick not to be appreciative of the attention my mouth was giving it.

  When I came up from underneath the covers, Chance saw the irritation on my face.

  “Why you stop?”

  I looked at him like he was crazy. “Because yo’ dick ain’t hard! Urgh!”

  “Get it hard then. Why you gettin’ so mad?”

  I huffed and puffed while lying back down. “Because since when do I have to ‘get it hard’? That motherfucka usually stay hard. What’s wrong with you?”

  He tried to smirk and chuckle like I was the one with the problem. “Nothing. Shit, I was enjoying the head.”

  Overcome with frustration, I sat up and looked at him. Just like a man avoiding the issues, he grabbed me gently and attempted to pull me back down on top of him.


  “No, Chance! Stop.”

  I was literally fighting back tears. Mind you, I was probably overreacting, sensitive after seeing my ex blow her head off in my bedroom. But I was not just tripping. Something was wrong with Chance.

  I just knew it.

  “Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I told you I was enjoying the head. Come back over here.” Again, he reached for me and I slapped his hand away.

  “No, you weren’t. And I don’t mean right now. I mean what’s wrong with you period. You’ve been huffing and puffing. You walk around here angry with a fucked up attitude like I did something to you. And we ain’t even fuckin’.”

  We hadn’t had sex since Rae committed suicide. I understood it the first two weeks, but after so long I figured it was weird. Hell, I should have been the one sad and not wanting to fuck. Not him.

  “Man, I told you ain’t nothing wrong with me. I’m gucci.”

  I smacked my lips and threw my hands in the air. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

  “Sign up for what?”

  “I went from one fucked up relationship to another. We ain’t even in a committed relationship and the shit done turned bad already.”

  “Gia, I told you I’m straight.”

  “And I’m telling you that you’re not. I may not know you that well, but I know you well enough to know when you actin’ funny. Something is bothering you and it’s fucking up the flow of what you had goin’. I’m not happy.”

  Chance tried to convince me, but I wasn’t buying it. “I’m good.”

  “You told me that we would always keep it real with each other.”

  He had. Many times, we talked about how I had so many trust issues with men because of my past. Every time, he promised that he was different.

  He replied, “I am,” but something wouldn’t allow his words to convince me.

  I left the bed. I couldn’t stand looking at that nigga no more, so I went into the kitchen in deep thought.

 

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