by Natavia
When I moved with my nana, I never came back until a year ago, although, I told myself I would come back when I turned eighteen. I graduated high school and went straight to college. I now wonder what Shia looked like and what she had been up to. I thought about her every day for the past eight years. I wanted to know if she looked like me, her dad, or both of us. I honestly didn’t even know if she was alive but something in me was telling me that she made it out of NICU.
“Hey, Diva!” Latavia said to me when I walked into work.
“Hey, boo!” I said to her. I met her in college my first year. We majored in the same thing and ended up getting a job together. Well, she was the one who got me in the door because she was hired months before I was.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” I asked.
“Well, we have an emergency call me and you both need to tend to. The up and coming singer Jordan Liles’ stylist had an allergic reaction, so she had to go to the hospital. So, now, we meeting her at her Bowie home to get her ready for her guest appearance on ‘Urban Celebrities’ tonight,” she said.
“Girl, you got to be kidding me! This can be a big break for us!” I told her.
“You know everyone else is mad because you and I are getting our first celebrity client!” she whispered.
“Let the haters hate!” I told her, grabbing my organizer.
“You two can take the company car,” our boss, Joslyn, who owned Glamour Styles said to us handing me the keys to the purple Jaguar.
We pulled up to a mini-mansion out in the rich part of Bowie where the doctors, lawyers, and all those rich kind of people lived. This was the first time I had seen houses like this close up being as though I came straight from the hood.
There was a Maserati and a Maybach parked in the circular driveway.
“Damn, this shit is nice!” Latavia said.
“I know, isn’t it?” I said getting out of the car.
I rang the doorbell and a butler answered the door, “You two must be from Glamour Styles,” the middle-aged Latino-looking man said.
He escorted us to a living room that was bigger than my whole studio apartment. He poured us some champagne, “She will be right down in a minute,” he said.
“Girl, I’m about to marry me a baller or something! This is the lavish life!” she joked.
“Did Kenjay ever call you?” I asked. She was with me at the club when I ran into him and they seemed to vibe.
“Yes, he called me. Girl, that man is too damn cocky and his mouth is too damn smart! But I got something for his ass! When I put this thick booty on his ass, it will calm him down!” she said making me laugh.
Jordan Liles walked into the living room with her face beat to the gods. She has on a crop top and some jeans with a badass pair of Red Bottoms on. Her long, silky hair flowed down her back, and her diamond choker was blinding the hell out of me. She strutted into the room like she was Beyoncé. I was just waiting for her hair to mysteriously start blowing.
She sat down then slung her hair back, propping her feet up. This was my first time meeting her, of course, but according to the media, her attitude was a hot ass mess.
“I’m sorry to keep you two waiting. My boyfriend came to visit,” she bragged.
“Has anyone ever told you that you look just like Jazmine Sullivan?” she asked me.
“Yes, I get that a lot,” I told her.
“Okay, shorty, I’m gone! Hit me up after you finish!” a familiar voice said. O’Shea stepped into the living and I almost lost control of my emotions. His face was just as shocked as mine.
“Baby, doesn’t she look like Jazmine Sullivan?” she asked him but he was just standing there staring at me.
“Um, where is your bathroom?” I asked her.
“It’s down the hall, to the right,” she said.
I got up and I heard him telling her he was going to make sure I found it.
“Damn, Brit, it’s like that? You haven’t seen me in how long and you just going to act like you don’t know a nigga?” he asked, clearly in his feelings.
“I see you every time I turn the TV on!” I told him.
He stood there with his hand on his chin looking down at me, checking me out, nodding his head and biting his lip. He still was the same fresh-ass nigga I see.
“You looking good!” he said.
“Thanks, but I need to use the bathroom!” I said rushing off and he grabbed my hand.
“Yo, we need talk, though, on some real shit!” he said.
“Isn’t your girlfriend out in the living room?” I asked.
“Who told you that?” he asked.
“She did!”
“That’s not my girl! We are more like friends with benefits,” he answered.
“I’ll talk to you later!” I said but he blocked me then I stomped my foot. He was really making my emotions rattle.
“Britain, your ass don’t need to go to the bathroom! That was your escape exit! But go ahead and I will be right back,” he said, walking off.
After I walked out the bathroom he was standing right there and I rolled my eyes.
“So, I called your agency and told them I needed you for a party appearance tonight. Latavia can stay here and you can come shopping with me. You know, help a nigga look fly!” he said.
“You are a pain in the ass!” I told him.
“I got fifteen g’s plus a bonus if you shut your ass up and ride with me!” he said.
“Let me get my things!” I rolled my eyes and he laughed.
I grabbed my purse and headed toward the door. Jordan walked to O’Shea then kissed him on the lips, “Stay away from those groupies and, Britain, take care of my man!” she said switching off. What a fucking way to reunite!
After I got into O’Shea’s Maybach, he pulled off. I was checking him out as he leaned back in his seat with one hand steering the wheel. His arms were nice and toned. He wasn’t bulky but he did have a nice athletic build. He glanced over, looked at me then smiled. I rolled my eyes at him and looked out the window.
“So what’s up, Britain? Tell me everything about you since you just up and left a nigga and stayed away for so long,” he said.
“Well, your bitch-ass daddy had my ass beat! My grandmother came and got me because of all the drama. I went to live with her. I finished high school then went to college for a degree in fashion. After I was done, I started my job at Glamour Styles and now I’m here!” I told him.
“Why do I feel like you leaving some shit out?” he asked.
“Because I fucking feel like it, O’Shea! Your punk-ass daddy made my young life a living hell! He set that shit up with Rattle and you believed it!” I snapped.
“Fuck that nigga, Britain! I don’t even talk to his bitch-ass like that no more!” he said.
“So, you got a man? Kids?” he asked. If only he knew we had a daughter out there somewhere.
“No, how about you?” I asked.
“Nope, a nigga stay busy!” he said. “I’m sorry, though, Britain for that shit my pops did to you! I always wanted to tell you that.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry, too, but it’s over now! Your pops got what he wanted and that was for me to stay away,” I said.
We pulled up to the back entrance of the Westfield mall. Two bodyguards just came out of nowhere escorting us through the back. I guess he wanted to avoid his fans and that was fine by me. I didn’t need to be in the tabloids because O’Shea’s life wasn’t private at all.
We went to a small lobby with a closed door at Nordstrom hidden away from everyone else.
“Have a seat, Britain. They are going to be bringing the shit back here for me to try on in a few minutes,” he said.
I sat down, “So, what about you? I noticed the media knows nothing about your parents. Why is that?” I asked.
“Me and ma dukes fell out years ago and my pops and I ain’t like that. So, I keep my family life very personal. After you moved away, I practically lived with Tammy. Ma dukes just stopped carin
g, I guess. She became so wrapped up in her new baby she just forgot about me. Which didn’t matter because I was invisible anyway,” he said.
“My pops and mother split up a little after you left. She got tired of his cheating, so now, he just running around, I guess. I haven’t seen my mother in years, though. I think the last time I saw her was when I was eighteen. Matter of fact, it was the last time I saw my pops, too,” he said. O’Shea always had a distant connection with his parents.
“So, how is Geraldine’s wild ass?” he asked.
“She is fine, actually. She’s been clean for almost eight years, now. She works and has a little car now. I am so proud of her! I just wished I was able to be there with her when she took those steps into her new life,” I said. I love telling people how my mama got her life together.
“Where is Tookie crazy ass?” he laughed.
“She is at home waiting on me!” I smiled.
“That fucking bird ain’t dead yet?” he asked.
“Parrots can live a little over fifty years! Tookie is only twenty years old now,” I told him.
O’Shea’s phone rang. He looked at it then put it back in his pocket. I assumed it was a bitch he was fucking with. The way he got around was all over the place.
“You pretty as shit now! I mean, you always been pretty, but you have a more mature look. Ain’t shit change a bit! Only thing that got bigger is your ass and your hips!” he said.
“And the only thing that got bigger on you is your damn mouth because you can’t seem to shut the fuck up!” I snapped and he laughed making me laugh, too.
“You got a little mouth piece on you, too, just like your mama!” he said.
“Back to business, what look are you going for?” I asked.
“Nothing!” he said.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“I just wanted some of your time. If I would’ve told you that, you would’ve turned me down. Coming here was more convincing to make you think this was strictly business,” he laughed.
“You better be paying me, too, nigga!” I said seriously.
“You got that, I told you!” he said leaning back in the chair staring at me. O’Shea was just too much for me. I could take him when we were younger. But now he was just straightforward with grown-man swag.
O'Shea
I stared lustfully at Britain’s thick, juicy leg crossed over the other. She was still on the thick side but it looked even better now. Her hair was in a bun with a swoop bang. The off-the-shoulder sheer top was making her titties look nice and full. The pencil skirt she had on was hugging all her thick curves. That mole on her face added to her beauty. Her brown skin looked soft and smooth just how I remembered it.
I could never deny the attraction that I had for her. She was perfect to me. In the music industry all you saw was fake asses and titties. I hadn’t seen a real body in so long, I couldn’t help but to stare.
“O’Shea, it’s time for me to go. Can you drop me off at work or do I need to catch a cab?” she said.
“I’ll drop you off if you give me your number!” I told her.
“For what, O’Shea?” she snapped.
“So, we can talk! Damn, Britain why you acting all shady and shit! A nigga trying to keep in touch with your ass!” I told her.
“Well, how about the next time if we run into each other!” she said.
“Okay, cool!” I told her looking at her thick lips, which were covered in purple lipstick. Purple lipstick never looked so good before. After all these years I was still attracted to Britain and I been around the world and came across some bad bitches. But Britain just had that effect on a nigga.
I still think about how I wasn’t attracted to thicker girls when I was younger. The day we played spin the bottle over Kenjay’s house had changed me forever.
We got back into my car and she told me where she worked. I pulled up to a purple and pink building. It definitely stood out.
“It was nice seeing you! I enjoyed our little talk and you take care!” she said.
“You do the same!” I told her as she got out giving me a full view of her big round ass and wide hips. She had a dip in her lower back on top of her ass. I could just imagine how good it would look arched.
“What about my kiss, though? Remember you used to always let a nigga kiss you?” I asked laughing and she rolled her eyes telling me bye.
I pulled out my cell and dialed a number, “Hello, this is Britain,” she said, sounding all proper.
“When can I get my kiss, shorty?” I asked her.
“O’Shea?” she asked.
“What other nigga could it be?”
“How the hell did you get my number?” she said with attitude.
“Latavia gave it to Kenjay and he forwarded it to me. I had your number before I even asked for it. Why you playing games with me, Britain? Now, you really got to let me kiss those pretty lips,” I told her.
“Bye, O’Shea!” she laughed hanging up.
My phone rang and it was my bitch-ass pops, “Fuck you want?” I answered.
“Lil’ nigga I would whip your ass! That’s how you talk to your old man?” he asked.
“Nigga all that shit you had done to me when I was a little nigga! You fucked our bond up! So, miss me with the bullshit and tell me what the fuck you want!” I said.
“I want my fucking money that you and that bitch-ass nigga Kenjay stole from me!” he said into the phone.
“For the last fucking time! I don’t know what the fuck you talking about! Look, nigga, I’m ready to slide up in some pussy and you cock blocking! This the nigga you wanted me to be, right? So, don’t get mad, nigga! You showed me tough love and I’m showing it back at you! I get up with you later!” I told him hanging up.
Four years ago…
“Look, nigga, I know where he keeps his money at!” I told Kenjay.
Kenjay pulled out his gun and puts his ski mask on and so did I.
“You said only two niggas in here, right?” he asked as I drew my gun, too.
“Yeah, nigga, damn!” I said and he mushed me. This nigga stay on joke time.
“Touch me again nigga and watch how I fuck you up!” I told him and he laughed.
“Okay, nigga, when we bust in here, we got to kill them niggas! They can’t make it out alive!” he said and I just shook my head. On Kenjay’s count of three, we both kicked the door in with guns drawn.
“Y’all niggas get down now!” he said to the two niggas bagging up at the table. My pops wasn’t as smart as he thought he was. I was surprised nobody hadn’t busted in here before being as though it was so easy.
Bebo and Mikey both lay down on the ground.
“Where the fucking money at?” I asked. I been around my pops a few times when he was picking up and dropping off. They just came back from meeting Jayron. He was a New York nigga that re-uped from my pops every month. He spent about 200g’s every time. I knew that shit was in there somewhere because my pops hadn’t picked up yet.
“Nigga, I don’t know what you talking about!” Bebo said. I kicked him in the face with my Nike boots making his mouth bleed. I put the gun to his head, “Nigga, where is the fucking money at?” I asked.
Kenjay shot Mikey in the back of his head.
“Now, that’s how you get a nigga to talk!” Kenjay said.
“It’s in the basement under the rug by the pool table. You got to lift up the floor board and feel to your left!” he cried.
Kenjay took off toward the basement. A few minutes later, he came up with two big duffel bags.
“Nigga, we hit the jackpot!” Kenjay bragged.
“Take the money but please don’t take the work!” Bebo said.
“Nigga, this a robbery! We take anything including your life!” he said.
“O’Shea, put this nigga out his misery!” Kenjay said letting my name slip from his mouth.
“You robbing your own pops, nigga?” Bebo asked ready to get up, but before he could, I pulled the trigger and
his brain matter splashed everywhere, splitting his head.
“Damn, that’s some nasty-ass shit!” Kenjay said.
“Nigga, fuck you say my name for?” I asked.
“What fucking difference does it make? The nigga was going to die anyway!” he said laughing.
Four years later and my pops was still hounding me about the shit when he didn’t have real proof we did it. Kenjay’s father, Ramiro, was doing life because he was working for a big time drug-lord back in the day. Well, the whole Cartel went down and Ramiro went down with them. Ramiro still had connections so the two hundred thousand dollars Kenjay stole put him on.