by Cairo
“Yeah, aiight. Whatever. What time you gonna be done?” I tell him I should be finished by noon. That I need to be done fuckin’ him by two, so I can get home to my kids. “Aiight, cool. All I need is an hour wit’ ya sexy-ass, anyway. I’ve been thinkin’ ’bout fuckin you all up in that fat ass for the last few days. On some real shit, yo, I’ma beat that asshole up for you poppin’ so much shit all the time.”
“Uh-huh, promises, promises. That’s what ya mouth says, niggah. Now let’s see what the dick does.”
Before he can open his cheatin’-ass mouth to say anything else, I disconnect the call. Not tryin’ to hear shit else he has to say. Show me, niggah! Anyway, niggahs like him ain’t shit any-damn-way. And they’re only good for two things: givin’ me the dick and givin’ me the dollars. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less!
Two
“Hey, Cassandra,” Felecia says, smilin’ at me as soon as I walk through the glass door of Nappy No More hair salon to get my hair and nails done up right. I’ve been comin’ to Nappy No More for years and can’t a bitch on the East Coast fuck with my girl Pasha when it comes to servin’ up the hair, hands, and feet. “Wasssup, girl? Long time no see, boo. You haven’t been here in ages. What’chu been up to?”
“Heeeeeey, Miss FeFe,” I say, pullin’ my Chanels up over my eyes and restin’ them on top of my head. “Yes, girl. It’s been a while. But I’m here now, sugah-boo. You know how I do it; ready to get this wig did, boo.”
Shit, the last time I saw Felecia was at Pasha’s weddin’ over the summer. And, oh, what a spectacular event it was! A real five-star, red-carpet affair with loads of dollars, dick, diamonds, drinks, and hot drama! Whew! It was everything a girl could ask for. And I served ’em like no other in a white silk dress that wrapped around this body like gauze, leaving nothin’ to the imagination. If I have nothin’ else, body is it! I gave ’em ass, titties, and a tiny waist! Yes, boo, if you gonna do it, do it right! Steal the goddamn show! Serve ’em heat! And keep ’em all talkin’. Big Booty, baby!
Mmmph. Anyway, I had ’em all doing double-takes and snappin’ necks to get a look, okay? But the real showstopper was the drama that kicked up with her cousins—these three hoes, identical triplets—no less, who share the same dick. Baby, I’m all for sharin’ another ho’s man. Shit, I do it all the time. But, those hoes took dick sharin’ to a whole other level. And one of ’em was real scandalous with it. Pretendin’ to be one of her sisters, then fuckin’ her sister’s secret sidepiece like it wasn’t nothin’. From what I heard that night, Miss Messy almost got away with it. But the niggah she was fuckin’ behind her other sister’s back was in the weddin’ party and is related to Jasper, Pasha’s husband. Baaaaaaby, do I need to say more? Explosive! Whew! And I saw firsthand, along with Felecia, all the messy fireworks. Boom! That bitch was scandalous!
“I know that’s right,” she says, pullin’ out her BlackBerry. She scrolls through it, responds to somethin’ and then slips it back inside her front pocket.
I glance around the shop. There are only about eight or nine chicks waitin’ and four sittin’ under dryers. There are four new stylists here that I am not familiar with. Usually on Thursdays it’s practically wall-to-wall hoes tryna get it right for the upcomin’ weekend.
“Mmph, it’s real quiet up in here this mornin’, boo. I see Miss Pasha got some new workers up in here, too.”
She flips through the appointment book. “Yeah, girl. She had to. After that shit that popped off with Alicia’s man comin’ up in here beatin’ her ass . . . ”
“Oooh, Miss FeFee. And I’m still pissed I missed that tall, dark-chocolate niggah beatin’ her down. I already know watchin’ that big, strappin’ niggah whoopin’ that ho’s ass woulda had me all juicy. I woulda had to change my drawz on the spot. And somethin’ told me to bring my ass down here that day, too.”
She laughs. “Girrrl, you’re too much. But, chile, he wore that ass out right up in Pasha’s office. That crazy niggah had us all shook. They carried Alicia’s ass up outta here on a damn stretcher, and him out in handcuffs.”
“Ooh, and I bet that niggah looked sexy as hell bein’ dragged out all sweaty and whatnot.”
She cracks up. “Girl, I can’t with you.”
“Uh-huh. I know you can’t. That bitch didn’t deserve a big, thick niggah like Chauncey any-damn-way. Stupid ho.”
“Girl, all over her suckin’ some other niggah’s dick at some party. A mess. And then that shit with Shuwanda.”
“What about that ho?”
“Girl, she was talkin’ all kinds of shit about Pasha behind her back.”
“What? What was that bitch sayin’ about Miss Pasha, girl?”
She looks around the shop, then over toward the door, leanin’ in. She lowers her voice, “Well, remember all that crazy shit that was happenin’ around here with the front window bein’ smashed out, then the day that crazy niggah came up in here callin’ Pasha out like that . . . ”
I tilt my head. “Callin’ Pasha out like what, boo?” I already know what she’s talkin’ about, but I wanna hear the two-faced bitch say it. And this ho’s supposed to be Pasha’s family. Mmmph. This messy bitch makes me sick!
“Girl, you remember when that niggah came in here and said one of his boys told him that she had sucked his dick and he wanted his sucked, too. I think he called it a deep throat special or some crazy shit like that.”
“Mmmph. I don’t remember all that,” I lie, runnin’ a hand through my weave.
“Girl, I don’t know how not. You were sittin’ right there in her chair. Then you said you wanted to hunt him down to find out who he was, remember?”
“Oh, that niggah. Girl, I had forgotten all about that crazy-ass shit.”
“Well, I didn’t. And, didn’t you think it was kinda strange that Pasha didn’t even wanna know who the hell he was? I mean, who does that?”
I raise a brow. “Umm, boo-boo, why you care? Maybe she ain’t wanna deal with the shit. But, anyway, what did Shuwanda’s phony ass have to say about her? You know I can’t stand her ass any-damn-way.”
“Yeah, I guess. But, still. She didn’t even want Jasper to know, which I thought was kinda strange.”
“Bitch, it’s really not ya business. You do know that, right? So why is you standin’ here tryna be messy? Now tell me what the hell that dirty-bitch Shuwanda said about her?”
“Oh, whatever. I’m not bein’ messy. Anyway, girl, that ho was goin’ around sayin’ she thought the shit about Pasha was true. That Pasha was nothin’ but an undercover cum freak. She told one of her clients this, and the girl went back and told someone else who told Pasha about it.”
“Mmmph. Miss Pasha shoulda beat that bitch’s ass. I’m glad the bitch is gone. I realized she was a hatin’-ass whore the minute I peeped her; broke-ass bitch.”
She laughs. “Girl, you a mess. You know Pasha is always a lady with hers. She isn’t goin’ to be out here fightin’ and whatnot.”
“Well, that’s why she shoulda called me. She knows I love a good damn fight; especially with a bitch I don’t like. And Miss Pasha is my damn boo. You fuck with her, you fuck with me, goddammit.”
I toss my weave for emphasis. Not that I need one. Bitches stay thinkin’ I’m bald-headed, but my real shit hangs to my shoulders, boo. Don’t fuckin’ get it twisted.
Miss FeFe pushes up from the counter. “I know that’s right. Anyway, it’s so much calmer up in here now that those two heifers are gone. They kept a bunch of shit stirred up in here. They were a mess.”
Mmmph. Like you!
“Yeah. Hot, shitty ones.” I glance up at the clock. I’ve had enough of this bitch. “Where’s Miss Pasha?”
“Oh, I almost forgot. I was so busy runnin’ my mouth. She told me to let you know she’s runnin’ about fifteen minutes behind. She should be here shortly.”
“Well, then I guess that gives us time to get caught up, huh, boo?”
“And you know it, girl.” I ask her how Pasha’s baby’
s doin. “Girl, he’s gettin’ big. And as cute as ever. He’s teethin’, which is why she’s runnin’ late. She was up all night with him.”
I shake my head. “I remember those days. Better her than me. If I had to go through that all over again, I’d blow my fuckin’ brains out.”
She laughs. “And you did it with nine, wait, ten kids.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“So, tell me. What’s been goin’ on with you? You haven’t been here in a few weeks.”
“Uh-huh. It’s been a minute. You know how it is. All these damn kids I have keep me extra busy. I had to get ’em ready for school. Then Labor Day Weekend I took their bad-asses to Disney World. And them little motherfuckas turned it out.”
“Oh, no!” she says, placin’ a hand up over her chest. I can’t stand an overdramatic ho. “What did they do?”
“Chile, the question is. What didn’t they do? The twins wanted to go to the Haunted Mansion over at Magic Kingdom, then they get up in there and start yellin’ and screamin’, scarin’ all them white folks. Then the next day they started in on Minnie Mouse at the parade . . . ”
“Girl, nooo,” she says, soundin’ amused. “What did they do to poor Minnie?”
“Baaaaby, they started talkin’ shit to Miss Minnie, callin’ her all kinda ugly, big-foot bitches.” Felecia is hysterical laughin’. “And you know I didn’t wanna have to go ghetto-momma on ’em in front of all them white folks, especially down there. But, baby . . . I had to bring it to their asses. Then Isaiah and Elijah got to fightin’ on one of the damn rides over who was goin’ to sit where. And when the ride attendant stopped the ride and told them they had to get off, they jumped on his ass.”
She’s cracking up. “Girl, I can’t.”
“And Day’Asia’s crazy-ass threw some knotty-head girl into the pool, then jumped in and fought her over some little boy they both were eyein’. Both of them—wild, hot pussy—fightin’ over some rusty-ass niggah who was gonna forget about their asses the minute he took his tail back to wherever he came from. It was a mess. I swear, I can’t take their asses no-goddamn-where without somethin’ poppin’ off.”
She’s in tears from laughin’ so hard. “Ohmygod, your kids are a mess.”
“No, they’re fuckin’ crazy; that’s what they are. I don’t know where the hell they got that shit from, but it definitely didn’t come from me. And they all have some filthy-ass mouths. It makes no damn sense. Word of advice: don’t let a niggah nut up in you unless you’ve done a thorough background check. And a full damn psychiatric assessment on just how fucked up his family is. ’Cause, baby, if I woulda knew then what I know now about some of my baby daddies, I damn sure wouldn’t have had all these damn kids. Plan A woulda been just suckin’ and swallowing and fuckin’ me in the ass. And Plan B woulda been the Morning After Pill. And I woulda been poppin’ them things like breath mints.”
She keeps laughin’, shakin’ her head. “Girl, you’re a mess. I can’t with you. Not this morning.”
“Chile, please. I have ten more years until the twins are eighteen, and I’m counting down. As soon as it hits midnight, I’m tossin’ them out. Then I’m packin’ up my shit and I’m doing a disappearin’ act on all their asses.”
“Cassandra, please. You know you’re not throwin’ your babies out.”
“Mmmph, watch me. I’ve already told ’em. ‘The minute you turn eighteen your motherfuckin’ asses are outta here.’ And I mean that shit.”
She laughs. “Girl, I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Sweetie, well, believe it. Even a blind ho will see I ain’t playin’. Anyway, girl . . . how them three messy cousins of yours doing?”
She rests her arms up on the counter. “Who, the triplets?”
“Yes, honey, those scandalous divas.”
“Girl, from what I hear they’re doing well. Paris, the one that was pregnant, had a little boy and she’s still with the father, you know, the one Persia was fuckin’ behind her back. You remember Persia, the one who got cursed out in the bathroom?”
“Ooooh, yes. Miss Messy Bessy.”
She laughs. “Yeah, her. Anyway, so Paris is happy as ever from what I’ve heard. And Porsha is gettin’ married to this . . . whew, fine-ass chocolate drop the three of them used to fuck, girl.”
“What? Girl, shut your mouth. She’s marryin’ one of the niggahs they all used to fuck?”
She bats her lashes. “Boo, you heard what I said. All I know, it couldn’t be me. But, whatever! Different strokes for different folks. You know I ain’t one to gossip.”
I give her my “bitch, puhleeze” look, smirkin’. Of course it goes right over the gossip whore’s head. “And Persia . . . well, chile, let me tell you. She done snatched herself up some fine, young Caribbean boy-toy—whose parents own a bunch of restaurants. And from what I heard, they’ve been goin’ at it real hot and heavy. She has turned his ass out.”
“Allllllriiiiight now. You know how I feel about that young dingdong, girlfriend. There’s nothin’ like that Everready, Energizer cock to jumpstart the day and night. Mmmph.”
I set my oversize Balenciaga bag up on the counter.
“Oooh, girl, that bag is sharp. I noticed it when you walked through the door. Is it real?”
I see this bitch wants me to punch her in her throat! I raise my brow. “Miss Girl, don’t do me, sugah boo. You gonna have me reach around and slice you. You know better.”
She laughs. But I don’t see shit funny. “You know I’m only messing with you. I know how you do it, girl. All I can say is, for someone who doesn’t work, you always stay fly.”
“What you mean, I don’t work? I work. Shit, I’m still raisin’ seven kids. Trust me. That’s a job-in-a-half, boo.”
“You’re definitely right about that. Still, I always wonder how you maintain your lifestyle.” She leans in, looks around, then lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “You still doing those credit cards?”
See. Now this bitch’s crossin’ the line. Let me tell you about Miss Messy, she’s a silent hater. Always has been, always will be. But the bitch covers it up with fake smiles and sugary compliments, then tries to slip in some kind of slick remark like I don’t peep the shit. So do you really think I’d tell this nosey ho if I was or wasn’t? No. The only things she and I can ever talk about are shoes, handbags, and dick sizes. Oh, and salon gossip. That’s it.
I glance up at the clock. It’s 10:54 A.M. My appointment was at ten-thirty. Pasha should be walkin’ in any minute.
Felecia leans up on the counter. “Ooooh, wait. I knew there was somethin’ I wanted to ask you. Chiiiiiiiiiiile, have you been up on Facebook lately?”
I blink. I don’t mean no harm here. I like Miss Felecia. I really, really do. But this bitch is too goddamn gossipy and nosey. She loves runnin’ those big, dick-suckin’ lips of hers. And those kinda bitches you have to watch with both eyes open, at all times. Still, we cool! Bottom line, she knows if I ever catch her wrong, I’ll beat her ass right.
“Miss FeFe, I haven’t been up on that shit in weeks. Why?”
“Chile, more Alicia and Shuwanda drama. Alicia been fuckin’ her man behind her back . . . ”
I frown. “Wait. Not that niggah, Melvin, with them big, ashy-ass lips?”
She nods. “Girl, the one and only.”
“Mmmph, these bitches have no standards; just fuck any ole niggah.”
“Girl, tell me about it. And they say he has one of them big, long, ashy dicks with all that extra skin hangin’ from it.”
I twist my face up. “Ugh!”
“Tell me about it. And now the two of them done got into it. It’s all up on Facebook. Honeeeey, they slinging mud at each other like it’s nobody’s business.”
“Well,” I say, pullin’ out my cell as it vibrates, “I’ve never featured them hoes any way. Both of ’em fuckin’ triflin’ if you ask me. By the end of next week, them bitches will be right back drinkin’ and sluttin’ around together.”
I glance at the screen, rollin’ my eyes. It’s a text from Marcellus, one of my thick-dicked baby fahvers. This niggah’s Baby Daddy Number Three. And fahver to my seventeen-year-old son, Marquelle. More about this six-foot-five, two-hundred-forty pound niggah some other time. I open the message. IM GONNA P/U QUELL FROM SKOOL 2MORROW
“Mmmph, you’re probably right. When I heard they had a three-some I knew it was gonna eventually be a problem. It always is.”
I text back. IS HE STAYN DA NITE?
I look up from my phone, shakin’ my head. “Them bitches deserve each other.”
“Cass, girl, you haven’t even heard the best part. Chile, they’ve been lickin’ each other’s pussies on the low.”
“Nothin’ those bitches do surprise me.”
She frowns. “Still, that’s some nasty shit.”
“How you know it’s nasty? Have you tried it?”
“Hell, no. I don’t get down with that.”
I shrug. “Well, Boo, different strokes for different folks. They grown ass women so if that’s what they do, then that’s what they do. Why you care?”
YEAH. ILL BRING HIM HOME SUN NITE
“Girl, the shit’s funny; that’s all.”
U STAYN DA NITE?
“Wait,” she says, keepin’ her voice low. “You’ve tried it?”
YEAH. BUT I AIN’T BEAT 4 NO BULLSHIT CASS. I WANNA FUCK, NOT BEEF WIT YA AZZ
I tilt my head, quickly glancin’ up at her, then back down to my phone as I continue typin’.
WHATEVER NIGGAH. I WANT MY PUSSY N ASS ATE 2
“Tried what?”
U SUKN THIS DICK?
“You know, eating pussy?”
I roll my eyes up in my head. IF DA SHIT STAYZ HARD, MAYBE.
This niggah has almost eleven inches of dingaling and the shit don’t always stay rock-hard. I mean, it’ll be hard, but not brick-solid, like I like it. And I need me a dick harder than a damn diamond to satisfy me. I told his ass the last time we fucked to invest in some of them blue pills, but the niggah said he don’t need ’em. I told his ass he was delusional to think he didn’t. But whatever! I don’t gotta fuck him on the regular, so what I care. As long as his black ass pays his four-hundred dollars a month in child support on time, I’ll toss him some occasional pussy. Besides, he’ll eat my pussy for most of the night, before he slides his dingaling in. I let him fuck me from the back and the niggah’ll cum in ten minutes. His ass ain’t ever been able to handle this pussy heat doggy-style. Pop, pop, pop!