Big Booty

by Cairo

  “Dickalina, puhleeze, boo. Tell me you done smoked dope today ’cause you talkin’ real retarded right now. I ain’t call you ’cause, bitch, I didn’t feel like talkin’ to ya ass.”

  She sucks her teeth. “Then why the fuck you answer the phone, ho?”

  “Girl, you know, I’m real with my shit. I rather tell you to ya face, than roll you over into voicemail.”

  “OMG, fuck you, Cass. I can’t stand ya ass sometimes. Anyway, you wanna run out for a few drinks tonight?”

  I roll my eyes up in my head. “Bitch, are you a drunk?”

  “Hell no!”

  “Then there’s ya answer. I was just out with ya black ass a few nights ago.” Shit, Lina’s my damn girl, but tonight I just want to get my drink on and chill and not have to hear her complainin’ and whinin’ about havin’ to get home to Knutz’s dumb ass. The niggah tells her she can go out, then texts her half the goddamn night, stressin’ her about when she’s comin’ home. Who the fuck does that shit? A crazy-ass, insecure niggah, that’s who!

  My last six baby daddies tried to keep leashes on me like that and all that shit did was piss me off. And eventually dismiss their black asses. Shit, three of my baby daddies sadly thought I was gonna be their personal boxin’ bags ’til I showed them I wasn’t the one to be puttin’ your hands on. I don’t give a fuck if I have to fuck a niggah to sleep real good, first, then slice his ass. You better ask somebody. Baby Daddy Number Two, Darryl, got stabbed.

  Then Baby Daddy Number Three, Marcellus, got bit in his face for tryna do me. Still to this day, that niggah’s walkin’ around with my teeth marks stamped on the side of his face. And Baby Daddy Number Four, Mustafa, got hand sanitizer slung in his eyes, then hit in the face with a bat and got his nose broke and his jaw cracked. That niggah couldn’t see, chew, or breathe by the time I finished with his ass.

  Anywho . . . back to Dickalina. “Look, girl. Tonight I’m just gonna chill, so I’ll catch up with you later. Right now I need to get up off this phone and get dinner started before all these kids get home.”

  “Uh-huh . . . well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

  I don’t respond. I simply end the call. I glance up at the clock. It’s almost three o’clock. I pull my hair up into a ponytail, then change into somethin’ more comfortable so I can get dinner started. I don’t give a damn what a bitch says about me, but what you won’t ever say is that my kids don’t have a hot, homecooked meal almost every night, or that they come home to an empty house. Nope. I see my kids off in the mornin’, and I’m here to greet their asses when they walk back through these doors after school. Now what I do at night after their homework is done and they’ve had their baths is my goddamn business. But I always take care of home first.

  The twins swing open the door, first. “Mommmmmy!” Fuquan screams as he storms through the house.

  “Boy, don’t come in here with all that noise,” I yell out while rinsin’ dishes and stackin’ the dishwasher. “I’m not in the mood!”

  He stomps into the kitchen. “That stupid ho makes me sick!”

  I crane my neck to look at him. “Boy, what I tell you about callin’ people hoes?”

  “Well, she is a ho.”

  I dry my hands and turn to face him. “Who?”

  “Missus Sweeney,” Tyquan answers as he walks in behind his brother. Mrs. Sweeney is one of the bus aides who sit on their school bus.

  “Mind your business, punk,” Fuquan snaps. “She ain’t ask you.”

  “Well, I told her anyway, punk!”

  I take a deep sigh. “Look, don’t y’all start your shit. Come here and give me a hug,” I say, walkin’ over to them. Tyquan hugs me and gives me a kiss, then goes off to his room. But Fuquan’s temper is flared up so high, he isn’t interested in hugs or kisses. “Boy, give me a damn hug before I floor your ass.” He reluctantly does. I kiss him on the cheek and he wipes it off. I ignore his evil ass. “I still love you, anyway. Now tell me what Missus Sweeney did. And watch what you say ’cause I don’t wanna have to punch you in ya goddamn mouth. You kids’ mouths are too damn fresh.”

  “She said I was actin’ like a wild baboon on the bus, then pulled me by my ear and twisted it. And all the kids started laughin’ and teasin’ me, makin’ monkey noises.”

  “That bitch did what?” I ask, placin’ a hand up on my hip. “And why the fuck did she put her goddamn hands on you?”

  “Because he kept standin’ and turnin’ around in his seat, horseplayin’,” Tyquan says, walkin’ back into the kitchen.

  “I was not horseplayin’, punk!” Fuquan screams at the top of his lungs. “So mind your stupid business!”

  I take a deep breath, then smile at Tyquan, usin’ my nice mommy’s voice. “Thank you, sweetheart. But Mommy wants to hear this from your brother.”

  “But all he’s gonna do is lie.”

  “Am not!”

  “Will to! Because you like to lie.”

  “Look. Stop all this goddamn yellin’ up before I beat the shit outta both of you. I’m tryna be goddamn nice up in this bitch, but y’all takin’ me there. Now, Tyquan, do you have any homework?” He tells me no. I tell him to go take his ass into the livin’ room and watch television and leave his brother alone. I bring my attention back to Fuquan. “Now what were you doin’ on the bus? And don’t you lie.”

  “I wasn’t doin’ nothin’. I was playin’ my game and that asshole, Rasheed, kept blowin’ spitballs at me because I wouldn’t let him play it.”

  “Well, why didn’t you tell Missus Sweeney on his ass?”

  “I did. And every time she wasn’t lookin’, he kept doin’ it. Then she told me to stop bein’ a tattle-tale and worry about what’s goin’ on in my own seat. I got mad and got up and screamed in his face and told him I was gonna fuck him up if he didn’t stop.”

  “Liar!” Tyquan yells from the livin’ room. “Fu kept gettin’ up out of his seat while the bus was goin’ and Missus Sweeney kept tellin’ him to sit down. And he wouldn’t. He stuck his tongue out at her. Then told her to eat his ass.”

  “I did not!”

  “You did so, liar!”

  Next thing I know Fuquan runs out of the kitchen into the livin’ room and jumps on Tyquan. The two of them start fightin’. And I have to run in and break them up. Now I gotta fuck ’em both up for not gettin’ along.

  “I’m sick of this shit! Y’all brothers, goddammit! And I’m not gonna have this shit up in here, both of y’all fightin’ each other! Now don’t have me goin’ to jail today for breakin’ your goddamn arms up in here!” I swing Fuquan by the arm and he flies into the recliner. “Now, Fuquan, I’m warnin’ ya black ass. Don’t have me goin’ up in that school tomorrow ready to whoop Missus Sweeney’s ass. Now tell me the truth. Did she twist your goddamn ears or are you just sayin’ it ’cause you pissed at her?”

  He folds his arms, then pokes out his lips. “I don’t like her.”

  “Well, that’s too goddamn bad. Now did she put her hands on you or not?”

  I actually have to smack up his face a few times before he finally answers me and admits he was lyin’ on her. I beat his ass some more. That’s one thing I don’t play is that lyin’ shit. Tell me the truth, goddammit! My kids know I will fuck a bitch up in a minute over them. But they also know I will fuck them up just as fast.

  “And don’t you ever let me hear about you cussin’ an adult out again. I’m not gonna have no goddamn gutter mouth up in here. Do that shit again and I’ma snatch ya motherfuckin’ tongue out. You gotta lotta damn nerve. You don’t even know how to wash the shit out right and you tellin’ some goddamn body to eat ya nasty ass out. Where the fuck you hear that nasty shit from, any-damn-way?”

  “You,” they both say.

  I finish whoopin’ his lyin’-ass, then go into my bathroom to light me a damn blunt. I take a few deep pulls to calm my nerves, then make myself a mental note to call Darius to bring me some more of this good shit when he comes over. I take two more p
ulls, then put it out, feelin’ a whole lot more relaxed. I decide to save the rest for later. These goddamn kids are goin’ to drive me crazy, I think, walkin’ out of my bedroom, then goin’ back into the kitchen to finish cookin’ dinner.

  The rest of the night it’s quiet up in here. Actually, a little too quiet, which makes me get up and do a quick run-through to make sure the twins aren’t tryna burn the house down. Fuquan is sleep. And Tyquan is watchin’ cartoons. I check on everyone else. Day’Asia’s in her nasty-ass bedroom runnin’ her mouth on her cell, and on her laptop Skypin’. Elijah’s playin’ some game on PS3, waitin’ for his fahver to come pick him up. And Marquelle, Joshua and Isaiah are all already out with their big-dicked daddies.

  I head back to my room and call Darius to re-up my stash, then ask him to sit with Day’Asia and the twins.

  “Damn, Ma,” he says, suckin’ his teeth. “Day’Asia’s old enough to stay home and watch them by herself. When I was her age you had me watchin’ Da’Quan and them all the time.”

  “That’s because you were responsible. And I could trust you. Now how many times I gotta say this. You know I don’t trust Day’Asia’s ass up in here alone.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Shit’s still retarded. No reason why she can’t watch them.”

  “Darius, don’t have me go off, okay? All I wanna do is go out and have me a few drinks without worryin’ that my house is gonna be tore up when I get back.”

  “Well, why can’t you get a bottle and drink at home?”

  “See, now you’re bein’ too goddamn grown. I don’t know why you wanna have me go off on you tonight. You know goddamn well I don’t ask you for much. But when I do, I expect you to come through for me. Now if you’re sayin’ your black ass is too good to have my goddamn back, then say it.”

  He huffs. “C’mon, Ma, why you gotta always start talkin’ reckless, callin’ me niggahs and shit? You know I’ma come through. But, damn. I’m just sayin’. Day’Asia’s ass is sixteen. She should be able to watch the twins for a few hours; that’s all.”

  “No, Darius. The only thing I wanna hear you sayin’ is when you gonna have ya ass here. I told you, I don’t want her left up in here alone. I’d come back here and she’d have a buncha niggahs up in here and my babies tied up to a damn tree somewhere.”

  “I’m sayin’, Ma. Don’t you think I have a life, too? Why can’t the twins go with Vernon?”

  I blink. “Darius, don’t do me, niggah. You have a life because I brought you into this world. And I’m kind and gracious enough to let you live. So don’t try me. My babies ain’t goin’ over to no goddamn Vernon’s house after he flattened my motherfuckin’ tires. And the niggah still owes me money for child support. So hell no! Now please don’t have me come over there and bust out them goddamn windows in that car I helped you buy. And you know I will.”

  He sucks his teeth again. Shenille’s in the background poppin’ shit as usual. I hear the trick-bitch talkin’ shit about him havin’ to come here to babysit every time I wanna go out.

  I hear her say, “Tell her ass to watch her own damn kids for a change. Why you gotta always run over there every time she calls you? I’m sick of this shit. You need to man up, Darius. Stop bein’ a pussy all the damn time and tell her ass no.”

  He tries to muffle her out.

  “Darius, I know that bald-headed bitch ain’t over there talkin’ shit ’cause you know I’m lookin’ for a reason to bust her in her raggedy-ass mouth. Let that bitch keep runnin’ her mouth and I’m gonna have her goddamn EBT card shut down. And you know I know that bitch is out there sellin’ her stamps for money so you had better put a muzzle on that ho real quick.”

  “C’mon, Ma, chill.”

  “ ‘Chill’ hell. Put that ugly bitch on the phone.”

  “Look, Ma. Damn. Why you gotta disrespect her like that?”

  “Oh, you takin’ up for her ass? Niggah, why you gotta let her disrespect me? I’m your mother. You know what Darius. Fuck it. You stay right over there with that gorilla-faced bitch of yours. And the next time you gotta get bailed outta jail, you make sure you call that bitch. I’ll find someone else to sit with your brothers and sister. Since you gotta life. But you had better hide that motherfuckin’ car because when I’m done with it, not even the junkyard is gonna want it.”

  “Fuck, Ma! Let me go. I said I’ll be there around ten, damn. And, Shenille, will you shut the fuck up! Both of you about to drive me fuckin’ crazy!”

  “No, niggah!” Gorilla-Face shouts. “You don’t tell me to shut the fuck up! You shut the fuck up! When you gonna grow a set of balls and stop bein’ a bitch? I’m sick of you lettin’ her run you. If her ass ain’t have all them goddamn kids . . . ”

  “Oh that bitch want her face knocked off. You tell that ho I’ma—”

  “Yo, Shenille, shut the fuck up, bitch!”

  “Bitch? Who you callin’ a bitch, niggah? You can pack your shit and get the fuck outta my goddamn house . . . ”

  “Look, Ma, for real. I gotta bounce before I end up in fuckin’ jail tonight. You done got this bitch cranked up and now I gotta hear her shit.”

  “Mmmhmm. And tell that whore I’m gonna give her that ass-whippin’ she keeps askin’ for real soon. I don’t know why you kids stay testin’ me. There’s no way you should be givin’ me so much backtalk, Darius, when I ask you to sit with your brothers and sister. And you damn sure shouldn’t be lettin’ no bitch ever talk slick to your mother, or come between us either.”

  “Aiight, aiight, Ma . . . damn. I said I gotta go.” Even though his attitude is on high and he’s tryin’ very hard to keep from goin’ off on me, the one thing he won’t do, or has ever done—yet, is hang up on me. And he knows that’ll I’ll keep talkin’ shit to him on the phone just to piss off that bitch he’s laid up with off even more. But lucky for him I have another call comin’ through. I glance at the screen. It’s Dre—six-foot-three and loaded with thick, black dick, callin’ to eat this ass again, I’m sure.

  “And bring me some more of that purple when you come to-night,” I say before disconnectin’ and clickin’ over to the incomin’ call. “Yes, how can I help you?”

  “I’m good, baby.”

  “I didn’t ask you how you were. I asked you how I can help you.”

  “I wanna see you.”

  I roll my eyes up in my head. “Why? It’s not like I’m givin’ you any pussy.”

  He laughs. “I’m not callin’ for that.”

  “Yeah, right. Then why you callin’?”

  “I was thinkin’ about you; that’s all.”

  “Mmmhmm, is that so?”

  “Yeah, I don’t want you to think it’s always gotta be about sex.”

  “Then, uh, what the hell you think it’s gonna be, boo-boo?”

  “I don’t know. I thought maybe we could chill out; spend some time together.”

  I yawn in his ear, then pick my cuticles. Oooh, I need to get down to Pasha’s soon. “Oh, ain’t that special.”

  “Yeah. What you cook?”

  Is this niggah serious?

  “What I cook? I made me and my kids some smothered chicken, sautéed spinach, and baked sweet potatoes.”

  He makes smackin’ sounds in my ear. “Mmm-mmm, damn. That sounds good. I need to slide through with a movie and come get my grub on.”

  “Niggah, you better slide your ass on over to Wendy’s or White Castle, then hop ya ass on over to CityPlex 12 if you tryna see a movie.”

  He laughs. “It’s like that? I can’t eat?”

  “Yeah, you can eat this pussy, then tongue fuck this ass. But that’s the only meal you can get outta me. And that ain’t for free. I don’t feed no niggah, boo. And I ain’t givin’ out no free happy meals. You got the wrong one.”

  “Oh, word? So, hypothetically, if I came through and was hungry, you wouldn’t feed me?”

  I frown. See. I knew it was a mistake givin’ this motherfucka my number. And it was an even bigger mistake to let him eat my ass out t
hat one time after a night of tossin’ back Toe Lickers down at the Crack House. But the niggah has a wicked tongue game. Whew! That long-ass tongue of his snaked its way into my asshole, twirled around in it, then made sparks shoot through my pussy as he strummed his fingers across my clit. Oh, yes . . . if I could cut his tongue out and carry it around in my purse I would. And although I was only able to run his wallet for five-hundred dollars, it was still enough to get my weave done, buy Marquelle those hundred-and-fifty-dollar Jordans he wanted and fill my Rover up. But for this niggah to think he could get a hot meal. Mmmph.

  “Hell no,” I snap, pullin’ off my clothes, then walkin’ into the bathroom and turnin’ on the shower. “What I look like takin’ food from outta my kids’ mouths to feed some man? No, boo. That’s not what I do. I fuck, I don’t feed.”

  “Damn, that’s foul.”

  “No, what’s foul is you not makin’ sure ya ass ate before you got here; hypothetically speakin’, that is, since we both know you’re not steppin’ foot up in here, any-damn-way.”

  Now, I like to do a lot of fuckin’ and cussin’ and drinkin’ and smokin’—and, yeah, fightin’, too. But there are two things I don’t (and won’t) do: Put a niggah before my kids, or take money or food from them to give to his ass. There’s already enough dumb bitches out there who do that stupid shit. And my name will never be added to the list. No thank you!

  He laughs. “It’s cool. But, damn. How you expect to get a man if you ain’t even tryna feed ’im?”

  “Boo-boo, I don’t want a man. And I ain’t lookin’ for one. I want his hard dingaling and his dollars; that’s it. All that extra shit, save it for them thirsty bitches, lonely for a man. The only thing I’m tryna do is fuck ’n shop, niggah.”

  “Yo, Cass, see. That’s why I fucks with you; you straight raw with it. But, damn . . . you really wouldn’t feed me?”

  “Is my ass flat?”

  “Hell muthafuckin’ naw. You already know.”

  “Mmmph. Then there’s your answer.”

  He laughs. “For real, Cass, when you gonna stop playin’ games and let me spend some time with you?”