Big Booty

by Cairo

  Whatever. All I know is, I need to get to Short Hills and pick me up some new heels and a handbag, then get down to the salon get my hair done for this hearin’ tomorrow.

  “Isaiah, wake up, damn it! Your brother will be here to pick ya ass up in about an hour. So you need to get showered and dressed.” His head is wrapped under the covers. When he doesn’t budge, I yank the comforter off of him. “Look boy, don’t do me this mornin’. Everybody is up and outta this house—in school where they belong, except you. So I know you don’t think you’re gonna lay in bed and sleep all goddamn mornin’. Get ya black ass up!”

  “Dang, I’m up,” he groans, liftin’ his head, then rollin’ over and stretchin’.

  “Don’t you ‘dang’ me, boy. Do you want ya face slapped? You know I’m still ready to set it off on ya black ass for gettin’ suspended and we only in the first month of school. So don’t do me, lil’ niggah.”

  I eye him as he gets outta bed. I see his lil’ ten-year-old dingaling is kinda hard in his boxers. Oooh, I’m so glad he ain’t gonna have no tiny-ass dick. “Am I goin’ to my dad’s this weekend?” he asks, tryna cover himself.

  “Oh, boy puhleeze. Ain’t nobody thinkin’ about ya hard dick. I done seen it plenty of times. And you done pulled the goddamn thing out in school so don’t even try it. And yeah, you goin’ to ya fahver’s. But, the minute his wife start talkin’ shit about you findin’ them nasty movies at her house you tell that bitch I said you ain’t gotta listen to her ugly ass.”

  “LaQuandra says you don’t like her and she ain’t never do nothin’ to you,” he says, makin’ his bed.

  I put a hand up on my hip. “That flat-ass bitch is a lie! She ain’t never liked me. Don’t be listenin’ to no shit that bitch says, Isaiah.”

  “Then why you attack her?”

  “I ain’t attack her.”

  He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me. “Then why you get locked up?”

  “I went upside her head for talkin’ slick.” I sit at the foot of his bed. Tell him to come sit next to me. “I’ma keep it real with you, okay?” He nods. “I was dead wrong for goin’ upside her head like that at the school. No matter what, that’s her job. And you were dead-wrong for pullin’ ya dingaling out bein’ disrespectful. When I heard you did that, I was embarrassed. That shit hurt me, Isaiah, ’cause you know I ain’t raise you to be actin’ like you some ghetto trash, pullin’ out ya dick to nobody. All I kept thinkin’ about is if you had on clean drawers and if you was ashy or not. And then when I heard you was bein’ kicked outta school and that bitch was sayin’ you should be taken away from me, I gave her a fist to the head. Don’t no-goddamn-body threaten to take my kids away from me. I love y’all too goddamn much. And I ain’t tryna let no other bitch raise you.”

  I turn my head for a quick minute ’cause I feel myself gettin’ kinda choked up. Thinkin’ about this shit got me wantin’ to tear that bitch up again.

  He rubs my back. “Mommy, you cryin’?”

  I shake my head and sniff a lil’ bit. “No. I’m mad at how shit went down. I’ll kill a bitch over you. And that bitch took me there. I shoulda never fought her like that; not there. I shoulda kept it classy and just cussed her out. Then I shoulda waited for the bitch out in the parkin’ lot, or went to her house and whooped her ass. That’s how classy hoes do it.”

  He blinks, I guess tryna make sense outta what I’m sayin’ to him. “But how come y’all always fightin’ and sayin’ mean stuff about each other?”

  I blink. “What that bitch been sayin’ about me?”

  He shrugs. “Just stuff.”

  “Like what? You can tell me. I ain’t gonna get mad.” He stares at me, givin’ me a “yeah right” look. “I’m not. But if you don’t wanna tell me ’cause you wanna be on her side, then don’t tell me.”

  “Mommy, I’m not on her side.”

  “Then tell me what that bitch says about me.”

  “But I don’t want Daddy to be mad at me.”

  “You let me worry about ya fahver. Now tell me.” He says sometimes he hears her sayin’ to his fahver how I’m triflin’ and how he needs to take me to court and get custody of him. How I don’t deserve to be a mother. How his fahver shouldn’t have to pay me all that child support money. I feel myself about to go off, but I keep it calm ’n classy. “And what ya fahver be sayin’ when that bitch is tryna kick my back in, sayin’ all this shit?”

  “I only heard him tell her he ain’t takin’ me from you. And for her stop talkin’ shit about you ’cause you a good mother.”

  I toot my lips up. “You goddamn right, I am. Do you wanna go live with them?” I ask this, holdin’ my breath ’cause I already know if he says yes, I’ma go off.

  He shakes his head and says, “No. I like goin’ over there and stayin’ sometimes, but I wanna live wit’ you.”

  I let out a relieved breath, pullin’ him into me. “I love ya bad ass to pieces.”

  “I love you too, Mommy.” He hugs me back. “Mommy?”

  “Yeah, boo?”

  “Why she say you a man-stealin’ whore?”

  “Oh, see. Now that bitch wanna get down ’n dirty. She said that to ya fahver?” He tells me no. That he heard her on the phone sayin’ it. I roll my eyes. “Boo, I’ma always keep it real with you ’cause that’s how I do it. That bitch is jealous of me. Always has been, always will be. I ain’t never tell you this ’cause I ain’t think it was any of ya business. But since that bitch wanna talk all freely, I’ma give it to you straight. I was fuckin’ ya fahver while he was married to LaQuandra. But I ain’t know he was married ’til after I got pregnant with you.”

  “Oh,” he says.

  “See, boo, LaQuandra hates me ’cause I gave ya fahver somethin’ she can’t. A son. And my baby is fine and chocolately like his daddy. And that burns that bitch’s asshole to shreds ’cause every time she looks at you she gotta be reminded that she ain’t ever gonna push a baby outta her cootie-hole.”

  “How come she can’t have a baby?”

  “Because the bitch’s insides are rotted.”

  He frowns.

  “Look, I don’t wanna talk anymore about that hatin’-ass ho. Tomorrow we gotta go to that school meetin’ and you gotta get ya black ass back in school. So we gotta keep it classy and talk that talk. Tell them niggahs what they wanna hear. You understand?” He nods. “Good. Now give me another hug, then go get yo’ musty ass in that shower and hurry up and get dressed before ya brother gets here.”

  He lifts up his arms up and starts smellin’ his pits. “I’m not musty. I smell like fresh onions.”

  I can’t help but laugh at his silly ass. “Boy, get yo’ ass in that shower. And make sure you scrub around them balls real good. If you musty under ya arms I’m sure them balls startin’ to funk up too. And make sure you pull open them asscheeks and get all up in there real good too. Niggahs gotta know how to wash that ass out good. And to keep them balls fresh. I don’t want you ever droppin’ ya drawers tryna serve up some dingaling and a bitch sayin’ you funky. I’ma fuck you up if you do. You hear me?”

  “Yes.”

  I watch as my baby bops his self into the bathroom, shakin’ my head. That bitch crazy if she thinks she’s gonna ever get my baby. I get up and walk out into the kitchen to fix him some waffles and scrambled eggs. Then unload the dishwasher. The alarm chirps just as the house phone rings. I already know who it is, on the phone and walkin’ through the door.

  “Yo, Ma, what’s good wit’ you?” he asks the minute I answer. “Why you ain’t been up here to see me?”

  I beat three eggs, add some cheddar cheese, green peppers, and onions, then pour them into a pan. “Jah’Mel, you know I don’t jail with no niggahs, boo. Son or not, you know I don’t do jail visits. Did you get the money I sent you?”

  “Yeah, I got it, thanks.” He laughs. “Yo, Ma, you know I don’t really care about visits anyway. I just like effen wit’ you. I’m sayin’ though. How’s e’eryone doin’? You good?�
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  Darius walks into the kitchen and kisses me on the cheek. “Who you on the phone wit’?” he wants to know, talkin’ to me like he’s my damn man or somethin’. I tell him it’s his brother. “Yo, let me holla at him for a minute.”

  “Boo, you know I’m always good. Now when ya black ass comin’ home?” He tells me his child support shit is handled but now he has to do another forty-five days for some traffic violations. “Mmmmph. I told ya ass to stop drivin’ on the revoked list, but you so hardheaded.”

  “Yo, Ma, chill. I ain’t call for no lecture; feel me? I know what I was doin’. And I’m cool wit’ doin’ da time.”

  I toot my lips. “Mmmph. Well, good for you. Now why that bitch, Frieda, ain’t brought my grandbaby over here to see me? I done sent her three texts and I still ain’t heard from her ass.”

  He sighs. “Yo, Ma. You already know what it is. How you s’pect her be around you after that shit you did?”

  I roll my eyes. He’s talkin’ about the night I took it to her face for scratchin’ his face and neck up ’cause he didn’t come home one night. Coon, boom! That bitch clawed up the wrong niggah ’cause I hopped on her ass. Well, I asked her why she did it first. And when the ho started talkin’ slick about how that was her man and how I needed to stay outta their business, I took it to her face.

  “Mmmph. Well, she shoulda never put her hands on you. Anyway, Darius wants to speak to you.”

  “Aiight, cool.”

  I hand Darius the phone, then go check on Isaiah. He’s dressed and stretched out across his bed watchin’ TV. I tell him to come eat. He shuts off his TV and follows behind me. “Did you put deodorant on?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you washed them balls like I told you?”

  He laughs. “Yes.”

  “Niggah, I ain’t laughin’. C’mere.” I grab him by his arm and sniff him. “Now, that’s how my baby’s supposed to smell. Fresh ’n clean with ya fine self.” I fuss in his hair. He has a mini ’fro. “You need a haircut.” He starts talkin’ shit about wantin’ to let his hair grow ’cause he wants braids. I ignore his ass. Darius hands me back the phone while Isaiah eats his waffles and Darius gobbles up the eggs.

  I walk back out into the livin’ room so Darius ain’t all up in my convo. “Jah, do you know some niggah named AJ?”

  “Where he from?” I tell him Irvington. “Nah, I don’t know. What he look like?” Sneaky. I give him his description. “Oh, hold up. I know who you talkin’ about, now. Yeah, I know that cat. Why? That niggah ain’t stepped to you, has he?”

  I suck my teeth, rollin’ my eyes. “See. Here you go tryna act like you my man.”

  “Nah, yo. You know I don’t be diggin’ that, Ma. It’s bad enough you got my boys always tryna sniff up around you. Let me find out that niggah tryna get at you.”

  I laugh. Jah done fought more niggahs for tryna get up in these drawers than I can keep count. His ass gets crazy and overprotective when it comes to me. “Boy, stop. Them lil’ fresh-ass niggahs only lookin’. Besides they ain’t ready to handle real pussy work.” Buddha’s long dick flashes in my head. I press my thighs together.

  He sucks his teeth. “Yo, Ma, you shot out; for real. You stay on that . . . ”

  “Aiight, Ma,” Darius says, walkin’ outta the kitchen. Isaiah is followin’ behind him. “We out. I’ll bring this knucklehead home around six.”

  “You a Butthead,” Isaiah says back to him.

  Darius grabs him into a headlock and they wrestle. “Yeah, aiight. I’ma kick ya butt if you get in any more trouble at school.”

  I tell Isaiah to come give me a hug, then kiss him on his cheek. “I love you, boo.”

  “I love you, too. Bye.” Darius gives me a hug and a kiss, then walks out. I step to the window and watch as they get in the car.

  “So why you ask me ’bout that cat, AJ?”

  I plop down on the sofa, then kick my barefeet up on the leather ottoman table. “ ’Cause I wanna know what he’s into.”

  “He ain’t ’bout shit. Some low-level cat; flunky type niggah, lookin’ for a come-up. Word is he pushin’ some light shit, but nuthin’ major. But you still ain’t tell me why you wanna know all this? Is you diggin’ cat or sumthin’?”

  “No, I ain’t diggin’ him. But if I was, so the hell what. I’ma grown ass woman. And I don’t answer to ya ass. So if I wanted to give the niggah some airplay, I would. But he ain’t my type, so slow ya roll.”

  He chuckles. “Yo, I ain’t tryna hear all that, Ma. I know you grown. That still don’t mean I won’t rock that niggah’s top when I get out if I hear he’s tryna get at you. And even if he ain’t tryna get at you and you pushin’ up on him, I’ma still bring it to his neck.”

  I shake my head. “Jah, you need to stop actin’ like you own me.”

  “Yo, go ’head wit’ that, Ma. I ain’t tryna own you. I’m lookin’ out for you. And I don’t want none of them grimy-ass niggahs tryna get at you; that’s all. So yeah. You my moms and you gonna do what you do. But at da end of da day I’m da one who’s gonna always have ya back.”

  I grin. “See, niggah. And that’s how it’s supposed to be. That’s why I love ya black ass like no other. You need to hurry up and get ya ass home.”

  “Word up. You already know. Yo, what’s good wit’ Day’Asia? I heard she out there on some real foul shit.”

  “What kinda foul shit you heard?”

  “That her and Candy supposedly out there trickin’ wit’ some niggahs from Elizabeth? All up in motel rooms ’n shit, drinkin’ ’n smokin’. Real shit, Ma. Tell Asia I’ma bust her ass when I get home.”

  “Well, I don’t know when she got time to be over in Elizabeth. But I don’t put shit past Day’Asia. She probably doin’ the shit durin’ the day or right after school. I know her fast-ass likes to suck down on a dick, and she always wanna be all up under that retarded-ass, stink-bitch, Candy. So ain’t no tellin’ what them two doin’ when she’s not home.”

  “Ma, real talk. Word on the block is, Asia, Candy, and Tina are all hot like fire. You need to get in Asia’s ass.”

  “Oh, don’t worry. I’ma jump up on her back as soon as she gets home from school. I’m not havin’ no hot pussy livin’ up in here.” I glance at the clock. It’s almost ten o’clock. Oooh, I gotta hurry and get the hell up outta here. “Look, boo. I gotta get up off this phone. You need anything?” He tells me he’s good. Tells me he’ll call me one day next week. Tells me he loves me. Then this niggah opens his goddamn mouth and tells me he wants me to stop goin’ down to The Crack House. “Whaaaat?! Niggah, boom! Now you crossin’ the goddamn line. You don’t tell me where the fuck to go. I keep tellin’ ya black ass that I don’t answer to you.”

  “Ma, I’m sayin’ . . . you out there wildin’ too. And you wonder why Day’Asia’s so wild.”

  I frown, pacin’. “Niggah, I ain’t wildin’ shit. I go out to have me a good goddamn time. I take care of home, first. And if I wanna go out every now and then to have a few goddamn drinks, so what? It’s none of ya motherfuckin’ business. See, you gonna have me smack ya goddamn face up when I see you.”

  “Ma, chill wit’ that crazy shit. Nobody sayin’ you can’t go out and toss a few back. But you out there bendin’ over and pullin’ shit outta ya ass ’n shit. That ain’t a good look. That’s all I’m sayin’, Ma. Fall back from goin’ up in there so much; that’s all.”

  “Jah’Mel, eat the back of my ass, niggah. Don’t worry about what I’m doin’. You don’t run me. And I don’t appreciate you havin’ motherfuckas reportin’ back to you, either. What you need to be doin’ is worryin’ about what the fuck that bitch Frieda’s doin’ when ya black ass is locked up. And take yo’ ass downtown to get that blood test like I told you, too. ’Cause, boo. I am ninety-nine-point-nine-nine percent certain that, you. Are. Not. The fahver.”

  Click!

  Jah’Mel done hung up on me. Oh, well. Niggah so worried about what the fuck I’m doin’ when he should be worried abou
t what the fuck is goin’ on in his own shit. I know that bitch Frieda been fuckin’ on him. And I know that baby ain’t his. I told his ass this. And the pussy-whipped niggah wanna believe her over me. So fuck him, too! I toss the cordless phone on the sofa and quickly hop up and go into my room to get showered and dressed so I can get down to the salon and hopefully get my shit did up right.

  Mmmph. Tryna do me. Niggah, puhleeze!

  Twenty-One

  A week later, I’m on the phone fumin’! I gotta letter in the mail from Family Court, talkin’ ’bout I gotta appear in court for a custody hearin’. And I’m hot that that motherfuckin’ Julius is tryna do me. Motherfucka, boom! Not only is this niggah tryna take my son, but he’s tryna cut into my goddamn money too. And Big Booty ain’t havin’ it, okay. I scream on him the minute he answers his cell. “Coon-bitch, motherfucka! What the fuck is this shit you tryna pull, niggah?”

  He takes a deep breath. “It ain’t no secret, Cass. I already told you what it was. I want my son; period.”

  “You can’t have him, niggah! I gave birth to him! Not you, bitch!”

  He stays calm, like he always fuckin’ does. And it only pisses me off more. The niggah never raises his voice. He’s one of them silent, crazy-type niggahs. Still, I don’t give a fuck. “You gotta lotta motherfuckin’ nerve, bitch, tryna take me to court. Pussy-ass bitch!”

  “Listen. All that rah-rah you got goin’ on ain’t changin’ shit, Cass. So cuss and scream all you want. I’ma still see you in court next week.”

  I try ’n keep from goin’ gutter on his ass, but I’m so goddamn pissed that I don’t give a fuck what comes outta my mouth. Still, I know if I crank it up to threats on the phone it’ll fuck me up ’cause I know the niggah’s recordin’ me. This bitch thinks he can hook me. But he gotta ’nother thing comin’.