Turned Out by His Hood Mentality 1

by Diamond D Johnson

  I stared back at her ass, unsure of what the fuck to even say. I wanted to tell her that she was pretty as fuck, but didn’t need her thinking that I was thirsty and acting like them niggas from the gas station.

  “How much is your friend going to charge me for the tires?” she asked after maybe five minutes of silence.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? I have to pay him, don’t I?” she questioned.

  When she did that, I could hear attitude and annoyance in her voice.

  “Nah, you actually don’t. I got it,” I said, showing her ass that she was wrong. She probably thought she was always right, so it was going to be my duty to show her that she wasn’t.

  “I don’t need you to do that for me. I can pay for my own tires to get fixed, so how much is it?” she asked.

  I pulled on my chin hair and then shook my head. I had a quick tongue, quick temper, and a quick reaction, but I was trying to calm myself down because I knew I could scare her to the point that she pissed on herself.

  “Let me see if the food is ready,” I said, standing up and leaving her at the table by herself because I didn’t want to do or say the wrong thing.

  The second I walked off, I received a text message on my phone from my baby mama, Sidnesha. Our son had picture day in the morning, and she was texting me over two outfit options that she had laid out for him on her bed. I texted her back option two, which was the white collared Polo shirt with khaki bottoms and a denim jacket. I also let her know that I was coming over tonight just to see Lil Bill. I knew his ass didn’t adhere to that bedtime shit that she had for him, so I would kick it with him for a few until it got too late.

  I’d been home now for a week, and I really ain’t have no shit yet that I was calling home. I mean, for the time being, I was still in my old apartment that Monterius had been keeping up the rent and shit while I was away, but that wasn’t home for me anymore. That shit was a one-bedroom, and it used to be a little spot that Nesha and I lived in together before I went in. I needed something with more space and bedrooms and out of the hood. Once I got that, I wanted my kids with me for the weekends.

  My baby mamas were doing damn good jobs of raising my kids, but I would want them with me from Friday-Monday. I wasn’t trying to come in and take my kids from them, but a nigga wanted his time too. As fucked up as Denim had me with her moody ass, she was good with Khari. She sent me pictures of her every morning before school, and she always sent my daughter off to school, looking fly. The same thing applied to Sidnesha. After I sent the text message to Nesha, letting her know that I would be over later, she hit me back that it was cool, and I put my phone back in my pocket. Soon after, my order was called, and I picked it up.

  I wasn’t sure where Roheem had disappeared to, but I no longer saw him. Knowing him, his messy ass had snuck off to the bathroom to text his cousin and tell her that I was there with a female. I headed back over to the table, and this time, Normani was on the phone. She had a small notepad out, and she was writing something on it.

  “Yes, I can be there first thing tomorrow morning. How’s 6:00? Okay. Oh, and let me get her room number. No problem. Have a good night,” she said and then hung up the phone.

  I’m not even sure why, but that shit was sexy to me. Seeing a woman on the phone, taking care of business was attractive like a motha fucka. It was the way she pushed her hair behind her ear and put her professional voice on as she wrote down the shit that they were telling her over the phone. I was a hood nigga, so seeing a woman in this type of position was new to me; I liked it.

  I watched Normani as she put the phone and the note pad in her purse. Then she pulled out some hand sanitizer and squirted some of it into her hands.

  “Damn, you ain’t going to ask me if I want some sanitizer?” I questioned, after seeing her put it back in her purse.

  “I figured you would just ignore me and find a reason to skip off again,” she spat, as she went back in her purse and pulled out the small bottle of hand sanitizer.

  I placed the food down and put one of my hands out, and she squirted the contents into my palm. Just like her, I rubbed my hands together and took my spot back down on the chair. I handed her food to her, and then I took mine. As I was unwrapping my food, I looked over at Normani, noticing how she had dropped her head, closed her eyes, and said a silent prayer. I pray over my food, too, so I ended up reciting my quick, two-second prayer that I came up with when I was a little boy. Then I opened the container, ready to dig into the food. My mouth was watering like a damn dog, as I smelled the food and watched the steam come up from it.

  “You rather we eat in silence, or would you mind if I ask you a few questions?” I asked her as she poured the dressing onto her salad.

  “What could you possibly want to know about me? You already made it clear that you don’t care to know my name, my phone number, a kiss, a hug, or nothing. Isn’t that what you told me?” she asked, still with her head down as she made her salad to her liking.

  Not even going to lie, I laughed because smaller people were always mean as fuck. Twinkle was the same way.

  “I must have struck a nerve for you to remember exactly what I said to you,” I said, and she shrugged.

  She was referring to the shit I told her the night of my party at the club.

  “Not at all,” she said back, but I knew I did.

  “I did, but it’s cool. So, tell me why you don’t have a man in your life to tell you when you got bad tires and to get new ones for you?” I questioned.

  She let out a groan and then rolled her eyes.

  “The same reason why you don’t have a woman at home to cook for you, and why you’re eating dinner at a Jamaican restaurant,” she shot back to me.

  “I choose for this shit to be my reality. In all humbleness, ma, I can have multiple bitches at home, with a home-cooked meal waiting for me. At the same time, I ain’t about to have just any woman in my home, waiting for daddy to get home,” I let her know right before I put a fork filled with rice in my mouth.

  I waited to see what was going to come next from her slick ass mouth.

  “That’s what women are to you? Bitches?” she asked as if she was disgusted by what I said.

  “It’s a fucked-up comparison, but nah, I don’t think of a good woman as just a bitch,” I said.

  She looked at me long and hard, like she was just waiting to say some more shit.

  “Just so you don’t think that I’m one of the many women who can be home with a meal waiting for you, let me just go ahead and put it out in the air that one, getting a man has never been an issue for me. Getting a good man is what I’m failing at. As you witnessed two times already, the men are definitely there. I just don’t want them,” she said.

  “Nah, it’s a difference, shorty. Them niggas want to fuck you,” I told her, and she moved her food out of the way like she was annoyed with me.

  “And in my defense, I can say that the women who go after you only want you because you have money. I’ll take my food to go. You’re like seriously getting on my nerves. I don’t even know what women see in you. Yes, I think you’re handsome, but I’ve turned down all types of handsome men. I’m not going to be disrespected by a man, just because you’re cousins with one of my closest friends or because you paid nine dollars for a meal that I could have easily paid for myself. Oh, and I’m paying for my own tires. I don’t want you to think that you did me another favor,” she said, all in her feelings.

  I chuckled as I watched her close the container that housed her food and put it in the brown paper bag.

  “Why the fuck you let me get you so uptight? And how the fuck did I disrespect you, Normani? I’m a nigga! A nigga who used to run game on a lot of women. I know when a nigga is looking for love or when a nigga is looking to fuck. Them little ass niggas out at the gas station tonight ain’t looking for no fuckin’ love. Young, stupid ass niggas and the only thing they worried about is busting a nut. Them niggas wouldn’t even be
able to fuckin’ afford yo’ ass! Chill out. I was just telling it like it is. You ain’t gotta pack your shit up and leave me. Although I already know your scary ass ain’t about to cross that street by yourself any fuckin’ way,” I said, moving my food out of the way too because I was losing my appetite and shit.

  “See, that! I don’t like that! That right there! You underestimate what I can do. You’ve been doing that since we sat down. It’s not even the things you say, but more so the way that you say it. Why couldn’t you just ask me why I’m single? Why did you have to stoop so low and ask why I don’t have a man in my life to tell me when I have bad tires and to new ones for me? It’s almost like you’re picking at me for being single. I’m going to go,” she said, and this time, she actually stood up.

  She was facing the table, trying to grab up her food, when I quickly stood up as well, grabbing her by her wrist and standing behind her. I didn’t know what the fuck it was, but I ain’t want her to go nowhere. I could feel her body shaking a little bit as I stood behind her. I was close, close enough where I was without a doubt invading her personal space. Because I was so close, I could smell that coconut scent in her hair, and the Chanel perfume that she was wearing invaded my nostrils. That shit smelled so fuckin’ good.

  On some real shit, I thought that she would pick up that big ass purse and hit me with it before telling me to get the fuck off her, but she didn’t. I towered over her small body from behind, and I could feel her body relax some.

  “Aight, Ima chill, but you fuckin’ with me too. You said them bitches only fuck with me because I got money,” I said, and then I turned her around, so she could look at me.

  “Yeah, after you told me that men only want to have sex with me. I just want to go back and see if my car is ready. I’m tired, I’m overwhelmed, and I feel like you are getting me out of character. I hardly even know you, and look how I’m allowing one man to have this much power over me to where I get this mad,” she voiced.

  When she finished, her bottom lip poked out, and I felt like that shit was sexy as fuck. I wasn’t even no kissing ass nigga. I swear shit had to have been fuckin’ official for me to put my lips on a woman. I wanted to know all types of shit, like where your mouth been, I wanted to know how clean a woman is, all of that shit before I put my lips on them. But the way she had her bottom lip poking out like that, I wanted to kiss her ass.

  We were close; real fuckin’ close. Pretty much to the point that her chest was against mine. I figured that if she wanted me to move, she would have pushed me back or at least tried to squeeze out of the way I had her cornered against the table. Because she didn’t, I figured she ain’t want me to move. She was looking up at me with those gray eyes, and I could tell I’d hurt her feelings with some of the shit that I said to her tonight, so I ended up reaching down and cuffing her chin.

  Fuck it, I leaned in and kissed her lips. I was standing there, killing myself with wanting to do it anyway, so I just went in for the kill. She looked at me with shocked eyes that I’d done that shit. Still, I saw a look on her face like she wanted more, so I lowered my head and kissed her again. She had soft ass lips. Her lips were really full, so I felt like I was burying my lips between some pillows. I felt like I was in the fuckin’ restaurant wilding, kissing and shit like I was in middle school again. I tried to pull away, but she put her small hand on the back of my head and pulled me back to her.

  My strong hands landed around her waist, and I lifted her up, then sat back down and pulled her into my lap.

  “No. Oh, my God. What am I doing? What am I doing? No. No,” she asked as she finally broke from the kiss.

  She tried to jump out of my lap, but I kept my hands on her waist. I ain’t want her to move.

  “This isn’t what I do. I promise I don’t just go around kissing on random men. I’ve never even kissed anyone before. Here I am, in one voice, I’m telling you that I’m not going to be like the rest of these women to further stroke your ego, then I allow you to get me out of my element like this. Let me stand up. I’m embarrassing myself, and I’m obviously losing my morals. Come on. Let’s see if my car is ready,” she rambled on, still trying to get out of my lap, but I wouldn’t let her.

  “Stop trying to fuckin’ run from me, Normani! The car ain’t ready! It ain’t even been an hour yet! You acting like I just fucked you in a bathroom or something. We kissed, that’s it. I could tell that this was your first time kissing. Ima be honest with you; you got some nice, pretty ass lips, but you ain’t know what the fuck you were doing. I’m not putting you in the category with no other woman, so you ain’t gotta worry about me having no ill thoughts about you. Just sit across the table from me and let me find out more about you. I promise I’m going to watch how the fuck I say certain shit. If you feel like I’m underestimating you, I ain’t doing it on purpose. That’s just how I talk, but ima work on the shit. Aight, yo?” I asked.

  She was sitting sideways in my lap, and my hands were around her waist, just holding her firmly. When she didn’t answer me quick enough, I bounced my leg with her still in my lap. She eventually nodded, letting me know that she would finish chilling with me until her car was ready. I finally let her go, and she quickly stood up and sat back down on the bench.

  “Let’s start over, aight? Tell me about yourself, Normani,” I said, this time in a kinder tone and a whole different approach.

  “My name is Normani Davidson. Like you know already, I’m a pediatrician. I’m twenty-six, and I’m the daughter of two pastors. I have an older sister named Naomi. Ummm, I went to FAMU for both of my degrees. I’m an AKA, as you can tell from my car. I write children’s books, and when I have free time, I like to watch romance movies. I’m single because I just haven’t found the one yet. I’m not even looking for the perfect man, just someone who can treat me right and someone who my parents will approve of, mainly my father,” she said.

  Normani didn’t really say a lot, but at the same time, she said a lot.

  “I’m assuming your father wouldn’t approve of me,” I said.

  She was a good girl whose daddy probably wanted her to marry the President of the United States or some shit.

  “I doubt it,” she honestly told me.

  “Let me ask you something else then. Whoever you end up giving a chance, you gonna have to run it through your daddy, or are you grown enough to make a decision on who you want to be with?” I questioned.

  If she said that her daddy’s opinion mattered over hers, I would just end this shit right here. It wouldn’t even be worth the chase. I wasn’t about to be in competition with nobody’s fuckin’ daddy!

  “I’m grown. Of course, I would want my parents’ blessing, but if I ever fall in love, and my daddy doesn’t approve for whatever reason, I won’t let his feelings ruin a good thing for me. Look behind you,” she said.

  I looked behind me, and a couple was sitting in a booth, still in their work clothes. They had a small baby with them who was probably six or seven months old. I looked for a few moments, and then I turned back to look at Normani. I wanted to see where she was going with this shit.

  “I want that. I want that type of love. When you left to pick up the food, I was discreetly watching them. The wife was holding their daughter, and the husband was looking at them with such adoration. I’ve watched my father look at my mother like that for so many years, and that’s what I want. Would you rather me call you Billionaire or Billion?” she asked, switching up the conversation.

  “Shit, whatever you prefer. Most people call me Billion,” I told her.

  “I want the simple things in life, Billionaire. I’m not the woman that a man has to spoil rotten and—”

  “A man supposed to spoil you rotten, though,” I said, cutting her off.

  “Not every man can afford to do that. Besides, I can spoil myself,” she said.

  “But it’ll feel a little better when somebody does it for you. What else you want?” I asked.

  I liked listening to her talk.
She had a smooth, soft voice. The type of voice that could put a nigga to sleep. It was crazy how I told her that everybody calls me Billion, yet she chose to call me Billionaire. That shit right there spoke volumes for a nigga. She was showing me that she wasn’t going to be just anybody in life; instead, she was going to be someone who stood out.

  “Here’s the part where you walk me back to my car,” she said and released a sigh. “I’m a virgin. Saving myself until marriage, honestly. I need somebody who can respect that,” she told me, and I wasn’t shocked to tell you the truth.

  “Keep talking. What else?” I asked.

  “That doesn’t turn you off?” she quizzed.

  “Nah, because I’m not shocked. When you started talking about being a preacher’s kid, then you said you ain’t kiss nobody before, my mind went into overdrive. So, I was able to conclude that on my own. I ain’t about to pressure no woman into having sex with me. That’s lame as fuck. When a woman is ready to cross that line, then we can go there,” I told her.

  For about ten minutes, she continued to tell me little things about herself.

  “I have questions that I want to ask you now,” she spoke.

  Slouched down in the seat, I put my hands behind my head, ready for whatever. I was an open book when it came to my life. I swear, I wasn’t going to hold out on shit.

  “Twinkle pretty much already gave me the scoop on you, so I really know a few things about you. One of the things that I’m curious about, and I’m not sure if this makes me a little naïve to the dating world, but I’m just curious as to why you aren’t with either of your children’s mother? Twinkle showed them to me, and both of them are beautiful. My daddy told me that he’s always been deeply in love with my mother, but his love for her grew both times he watched her give birth to my sister and me. How is it that a woman can go through the pain of having your child, and you no longer be with either one of them?” she questioned.

  It was a good question, though.

  “It doesn’t make you naïve for asking that. My son’s mother is Sidnesha. I’m not sure what all Twinkle told you, but I used to be heavy in the streets. We come from different worlds, so while you were studying medicine, I was selling the shit. Ten years ago, I wanted to be the biggest dope boy to ever come out of Miami. That was the type of goal I had. Sidnesha loved the perks that came with being a dope boy’s woman, so she encouraged the shit. She ain’t ever put it into my head to have a plan B or to get out of the streets. Sometimes, a nigga be needing that shit in his life. Those down bitches be good and all, but they don’t be trying to steer a nigga in the right direction.