The Ex Factor: A Novel

by Whitaker, Tu-Shonda

  “No.” Imani sucked her teeth.

  “Well, I'm tired. Along with bustin' a nut comes sleep for me. So kill it with the bullshit. Matter of fact, ain't your mother getting married today? Go get dressed or something. Just leave me the hell alone… shit.”

  “Come on, Walik,” Imani whined, “she had a ring and shit.”

  “I don't give a damn what she had. I been locked up for two years, where the hell I get a damn ring from, mess hall?” Walik turned over and buried his face in the pillow.

  “A ring, Walik? A ring, come on now.” Imani snatched Walik's pillow away. She knew she was pushing it, but holding this in burned her chest. She sat on the edge of the bed with her legs crossed and her blue silk gown resting on her cool chocolate skin. “This is not the time to sleep.”

  Walik sat up in bed. With his bare back against the wall, he stared at Imani. “What the fuck is your problem?”

  “What the fuck is my problem? You niggah.” She took her index finger and mushed him in the middle of his forehead. “I wanna know how come this one bitch don't never seem to go away. What, you in love with her or somethin'? You her goddamn man and forgot to tell me?”

  “There you go with that bullshit.” He sighed. “Don't mush me in my head again.”

  “Bullshit? The bullshit is that rotten-ass nut you let off in that bitch. Did you wanna sleep then, ma'fucker? I swear I don't want that bastard-ass baby in my house. I don't even wanna see that piece of shit.”

  “Yo, fall back,” Walik said sternly.

  “Fall back? Fuck you.”

  “If you would stop flappin' them lips and suck my dick maybe you would get a chance to. Look, Imani,” Walik raised his voice, pointing his right hand toward her face, “all last night we talked about this. I fucked the shit outta you to show you that it was all about you. I came here last night and chilled with you and my son. And despite the fact that I saw a buncha crackheads peddlin' my shit, I didn't even stress you about my clothes or my guns being missing.”

  “I told you some niggahs broke in here.”

  Walik twisted his lips. “Ain't no niggahs broke in here, 'cause my boy Gill, my 5-0 niggah, was the one you donated my guns to, that's why he ain't ask your dumb ass no questions.” Walik sucked his teeth. “You always fuckin' playin' yourself, ma. My guns is at my mom's, boo. So chill.”

  “Chill? Who the hell is you talkin' to? I don't give a fuck about you or that crooked-ass drug-dealin' cop. Fuck both of y'all!”

  “Ai'ight. Enough. I'm out.” He threw the covers off.

  Imani grabbed his wrist. “Where you goin'?”

  “Gettin' the fuck outta here!”

  “Bye, niggah. I knew you wanted to run off and be with that bitch anyway. Let me catch her and I promise you it's gon' be on all the time.”

  “Whatever, yo.” Walik snatched his wrist from Imani's grip and slid out of bed. He picked up his boxing shorts from the floor. “See my dick.” Walik held his dick in his hand. “This is what a naggin' bitch does to a dick.”

  “You and ya soft-ass dick can step! Get the fuck out!” Imani screamed. “Who the hell you supposed to be, John Gotti? You just a fuckin' hood rat, a mishap that stumbled across a li'l hustle. On the real your dumb ass couldn't even get a homemade porno fuckin' right, let alone knocking the lining outta pussy.”

  “Oh yeah?” Walik couldn't believe what he was hearing.

  “And another thing,” Imani continued, “you'd be better off sellin' bootleg CDs than makin' runs, you silly bastard!”

  Walik reached for his jeans. “I ain't gotta listen to this shit.” He slipped on his boxers and jeans, then reached for his cell phone. He flipped it open, pressed a button, said Shante's name into the receiver, and immediately the phone dialed Shante's number.

  “Wassup?” Shante said groggily, answering the phone.

  “Yo,” Walik said, “check it, ma, wake up and fix me something to eat.”

  “You comin' over?”

  “Yeah, I'm coming now.”

  Without warning a surge of wind made a whoosh sound as Imani fly-kicked Walik in the center of his chest, causing his back to hunch and his mouth to fly open. “That's right, niggah, you forgot what part of Flatbush I was from. Karate camp was fuckin' free. Niggah-what!” Before Walik realized what was happening Imani karate-chopped him twice across the forehead. He dropped his cell phone, and Imani could hear Shante on the line shouting his name.

  “Oh, you just gon' call that bitch in my face!” As Walik rushed toward Imani she quickly stepped to the side and he ran into the wall. “Punk bitch!” she screamed.

  “I'ma kick yo' fuckin' ass!” he said, checking to see if his nose was broken.

  “Suck my dick!” Imani screamed. “Lick my ass! Ma'fucker, you gon' call that bitch in my house? You just gon' disrespect me?” She pounded two chops into the back of Walik's head, and as he went to turn around she poked him in the eye. Then she stomped on his cell phone and started crushing it to pieces. “Let's see yo' ass call the bitch now!”

  As Imani continued stomping on Walik's phone, he was able to catch her off guard and grab her around the neck. “Oh, you think you fuckin' Bruce Lee? You gon' try that karate shit on me and think I won't beat yo' ass?” He squeezed the veins on the side of her neck and backed her up against the wall. “Stupid bitch!” Thick and blinding beads of sweat drizzled down Walik's face. He took one of his hands and wiped his eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” He took his free hand and pushed her on the side of her head, causing her neck to jerk.

  “Imani!” Jamal screamed, pushing the bedroom door open and running into the room. “What you doin' to my mommy, punk?” Jamal jumped on Walik and started hitting and kicking him on the leg. Before Walik could get a hold on Jamal, Jamal bit him on the knee. “Shit!” Walik screamed. He took his free hand and pushed Jamal to the floor.

  “Oh hell naw!” Imani screamed. She tried to release herself from Walik's grip, so she kicked him in the dick as hard as she could. Immediately he let her go and grabbed his crotch.

  “Don't you ever in your life put your hands on my baby!” Imani screamed.

  Still in pain, Walik stood up straight and slapped Imani so hard that spit flew from her mouth and immediately she started coughing.

  Jamal jumped up and down. “Niggah, you don't know me! King Kong ain't got nothin' on me!” He pounded his chest. “Now, don't make me regulate up in here!” He charged toward Walik. Stopping him midway, Walik grabbed Jamal by his pajama-top collar and twisted it with his fist. He lifted Jamal in the air and looked at Imani. “If you come over here I'ma forget who you are and I'ma beat the shit outta you!”

  Walik turned to stare Jamal in the face. “I'm your fuckin' father and I will kill you before I ever let you beat my ass! Any li'l niggah that puts his hands on his father is a punk.”

  “I'm not no punk, I'm the man of this house!” Jamal screamed. “This is my hood, niggah, death before dishonor, remember that?”

  “Hell yeah I remember that, I'm the one who told you that! But I'm home now, I'm the man of the house, and I'm your father. So don't you ever put your hands on me again, 'cause if you do I'ma beat you like a niggah in the street! Understand?”

  Jamal didn't answer.

  “Understand?” Walik repeated.

  Jamal didn't know whether to answer or not, so he looked toward Imani. “I'm talkin' to you, not your mother!” Walik snatched his face around. “Now, do you understand?”

  Not knowing what else to do, Jamal started to cry.

  “Don't cry, niggah; you was all tough a minute ago. Now you wanna cry? You don't ever bring it to a man unless you can take him or you willing to take what the fuck he gon' give you. And see me, I'll break your chest open if you ever in your life jump on, at, or even look at me too hard. Understand?”

  Jamal was silent, his tears splashing onto Walik's hands.

  “Answer me,” Walik said sternly, shaking Jamal.

  “Yeah!” Jamal cried.

  “Ai'
ight then.” He placed Jamal back on the floor. “Now go in your room. This is between me and your mother.”

  Jamal ran over to Imani and hugged her around the waist.

  “I'm okay, Jamal,” she assured him. “Go back to your room, we have to get ready for your grandmother's wedding.”

  Jamal was reluctant to leave. He walked backward out of the room, staring Walik down every step of the way. Walik slammed the door in Jamal's face and locked it.

  “Imani! Y'all gettin' high up in this, ma'fucker? Trying to jump me? Do you know that niggahs die for less than this? Y'all some bold ma'fuckers, for real.” Walik couldn't believe it. “I swear if y'all was niggahs in the street you would be resting in peace.”

  “Now you wanna kill us.” Imani wiped tears from her eyes. “I don't even know who you are anymore.” She broke down and started sobbing.

  “Oh please.” Walik started pacing the room. “Cut that crying shit out! You don't know who the hell I am?”

  “No I don't.” Snot ran from her nose.

  “I'm your fuckin' man.” Walik stopped in his tracks. “But I will leave yo' ass. I'm not gon' be going through this shit. Now, either you with me or you not. Shante is pregnant, period. I can't change that… and I'm sorry… but at least I'm a man and can admit it. And I'm trying, Imani, I am. But I'm not the type of niggah to have to keep beating yo' ass, 'cause I'll kill you. Remember that I will bury yo' fuckin' ass.”

  “Walik—”

  “Don't fuckin' Walik me! Karate-choppin' me and shit.” Walik ran his hand across his forehead. It was sore to the touch. “This li'l niggah,” he pointed toward the door, “talkin' about King Kong ain't got nothin' on him.”

  “So what,” Imani snapped. “I betchu he got heart.”

  “I betchu he get his neck broke and if he ever raise his hand at me, I will make sure that I break my fist in his chest. I can't believe that I wanted to marry your fuckin' ass!” Walik shook his head.

  “Oh, we ain't gettin' married now?” Imani felt like kicking Walik's ass all over again.

  “Yo, you stress a niggah too much and every time I turn around I gotta be puttin' my hands on you. I'm not trying to go to jail for some dumb shit.”

  “Now our relationship is dumb? I been with you for ten years and this is what the fuck you do. And to top it all off, this whole shit is dumb to you?”

  “Spare me.”

  “Why you doing this, Walik?” More tears filled Imani's eyes. “I can't take it, we've been together for ten years, we have a son, and I wanna get married.”

  “Okay, you know what? You gettin' on my nerves! This is why I wanted to stop fuckin' with you. This is why I started fuckin' with Shante to begin with, 'cause she ain't fuckin' nag me. She know how to suck my dick and shut the hell up. But you—it's always an issue—always. You doin' karate on a niggah and shit. I just came home from a bid, I come scoop you and my li'l man, and we hang out over my mom's. Me, you, and Jamal, not some other bitch… not Shante… you. Who my family recognize as my girl?”

  Imani held her head down. “Me.”

  “Ai'ight then. And Jamal look just like me, so that ain't even no question. But for real—for real—if you don't fall the fuck back and stop pressuring me I'ma straight leave yo' ass. I ain't come home for this.”

  “All right, Walik.” Imani wiped her eyes. “I'm sorry.” She walked over to him and started stroking his dick. She felt it hardening.

  “Yeah whatever. I'm leaving.” He was trying his best not to show how good Imani was making him feel.

  “I don't want you to leave.” She slid to her knees.

  “Why not?” He felt her unzipping his pants.

  “ 'Cause I got something for you.” She pulled his pants and his boxers down to his ankles. Then she proceeded to lick around his balls and the inner parts of his thighs. “You like that, daddy?”

  “I don't know yet.” Walik was fighting to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head. “What else you got?”

  “Uhmm, let's see …” Imani started licking his dick and making popping sounds as she reached the tip.

  “Oh shit!” Walik moaned. “Goddamn. You got a mean head game.”

  “Oh, I got a mean head game,” she said in between licks and sucks. “You like it?”

  “I love that shit, baby.”

  “What's my name?” Imani demanded. “Say it while I suck ya dick.”

  “Wifey baby…Ma'fuckin' wifey…”

  (Celeste)

  “EVERYBODY GRAB YOUR man, the thief in the night is here!” Mama Byrd yelled as Monica walked into Celeste's bedroom. “Hey baby.” She smiled at Monica while slipping on her cream-and-blue lace-trimmed duster for the wedding. “Peaches was just talkin' about you.”

  “Mama Byrd.” Buttah cut her eyes while puckering her lips. “Don't lie on me.”

  “I thought you said your name wasn't Peaches.” Mama Byrd smirked.

  “It ain't.”

  “Well, then why you in this? Mind ya bid'ness.”

  “Would y'all please,” Monica said, agitated. “Celeste, let me talk to you for a minute.” She motioned Celeste to step to the side. “Look, I really need to apologize for last night and this morning. It really was nothing—really—I know we fell out—but Sharief was the one who talked me into coming back in because, as he said, this is about Mommy and not us. And for that reason alone”—she arched her eyebrows—“I came back in here. Yes, I'm still pissed—don't get it twisted. But I wouldn't do no crazy-ass shit in your house and disrespect you—to that extent—because I know what you've been going through. So I need you to understand that last night Sharief and I were just talking and we both fell asleep.”

  “Girl,” Celeste caressed Monica's cheek, “no matter what we go through, you're my sister. I trust you and I know you wouldn't do anything like that.”

  Monica was expressionless as she replied, “Like I said, Celeste, last night was nothing.”

  “Celeste,” Starr interrupted, “gimme my cell phone so I can call Imani.” Tears filled Starr's eyes. “This is my wedding day and I gotta be looking for my child to see if she's coming, let alone be a bridesmaid. What did I do so wrong?”

  “Look, Ma,” Celeste said, turning away from Monica, “I really can't deal with a pity party today and quite frankly I don't wanna hear about Imani's li'l selfish ass. You're the only one with hope for the chick 'cause the way I see it, if you ain't some li'l bum niggah with a big dick who's selling drugs on the street then you don't mean a thing.”

  “Not today, Celeste,” Monica said while helping Mama Byrd fix her duster. “Not today.”

  “I heard what you said,” Imani announced as she entered the room, throwing her bridesmaid's gown on the bed and placing a hand on her hip. “Don't be worried about the size of my man's dick; you need to be concentrating on yo' niggah's dick, trick— excuse me, Jamal.” Jamal covered his mouth and snickered. “You know what,” Imani went on, rolling her eyes, “this a buncha bull-shit, I'ma let this go for now. But don't think I'ma let y'all talk shit to me all day.”

  “Imani!” Starr stood with her fishnet stockings in her hand. “Do I look like a piece of the goddamn furniture? Watch your li'l nasty mouth before you get knocked in it! I swear if I wasn't getting married I would beat yo' ass down! Where have you been?”

  “Mommy,” Imani whined, “I'm sorry about cussin' but somebody always got something to say. Anyway, wouldn't nobody come and get me yesterday. I called here but didn't get an answer.”

  “Imani.” Jamal tugged on her arm. “Didn't you turn your phone off ?”

  “No, I didn't.”

  “Oh.” Jamal stood quietly.

  “Anyway, Ma,” Imani continued, “I didn't have a way here.”

  “Stop lying,” Monica chimed in. “I'm not lying.”

  Jamal looked at Imani. “That sound like a lie to me, Imani. That don't sound like the truth.” He shook his head.

  “I'ma slap you!” Imani squinted.

  “Oh hold up.” Ma
ma Byrd stood with her hands on her hips. “Ain't nobody gon' do no slappin' up in this ma'fucker.”

  “Imani,” Monica snapped, “don't come up here lying. Just don't open your mouth. Just get dressed.”

  “Oh, you frontin' on me in front of everybody? Oh, you playing me?” Imani was shocked. “I thought we were better than that, Monica.”

  “You want to translate that into educated English?” Celeste smirked. “Otherwise, shut the fuck up!”

  “You shut the fuck up!”

  “Both of y'all shut the fuck up!” Starr yelled. “Now, Imani, how did you get here today?”

  “Walik,” Jamal said, with a frown on his face. “Walik got his boy car and dropped us off. Mama-Starr, you know I can't stand Walik. He had me by the neck and slammed me into the wall.” Jamal balled up his fist. “Mama-Starr, he was like, You li'l punk, I'll mess you up! I was crying and everything—you shoulda saw me. And you know what? He and Imani were fighting too. I had to break free and save her.”

  “What?” everybody screeched.

  “It wasn't even like that,” Imani said defensively. “He ain't have him slammed up against the wall. Walik was just playing with us.”

  “That wasn't no game to me, Imani, I don't play like that. Plus, we were both crying,” Jamal insisted.

  “Shut up, Jamal!” Imani snarled.

  “Remember, Imani?” Jamal continued with his story, oblivious to his mother's warning. “You were like, Why you doin' this to me, Walik. I love you. I wanna be your wife… Ahhhh Ahhhh…God help me…Jesus Lord save me… For a minute I thought you had the Holy Ghost. 'Cause you were like this.” He fell on the floor with his arms stretched out. “Help me!…Help me! And then I came to save you, because if I didn't he was gon' beat us both down. You remember, Imani?”

  “I remember that I told you about lyin'!” Imani snapped. “And I told you about tellin' my business. And I told you what goes on in my house stays in my damn house! Now don't get slapped. Matter of fact get your li'l ass off the floor, lookin' crazy. Take your tux and get yo' short ass downstairs with your uncle Sharief so he can help you get dressed.” Imani yanked Jamal off the floor, gave him his tux, and pushed him toward the door. “Get yo' ass outta here!”