He killed the ignition, before focusing on me. “Look, I need you to do one thing for me.”
“What’s that?” I arched a brow.
“Just follow my lead. Do that, and I promise you’ll be straight. Alright?”
I hesitated, as I locked eyes with him, and a chill eased up my spine. There was this feeling that he’d meant those words in more than one way, but I wouldn’t dare question it. I couldn’t allow it, because his answers could potentially lead to something downright treacherous. No matter how I tried to slice it.
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
He gave me the gentlest smile. “Alright. Come on.”
I tried taming my hair the best I could, but it was no use. I looked a hot ass mess, but he didn’t seem to care. I decided to let it go, because it wouldn’t be the first time and probably not the last being in public, looking less than presentable. Following his lead, as he’d instructed, we traveled into the mall.
I felt so self-conscious as I noticed all the well-dressed people milling around. I had to be standing out like a sore thumb, but Omari walked side by side with me, putting me at ease. It was like he was oblivious to the stank faces different bitches were giving me. We definitely appeared worlds apart, as he rocked Robin’s jeans, a white tee, accessorized with Louie shoes, and belt. His clothes probably costed more than my mama made in a month, and even she looked out of place when standing next to him, but I took the damn cake. I know that he made me look homeless compared to his swag.
We ended up at Macy’s, and as soon as we entered the store we were in the shoe department. There was an in-store Finish Line there, and Omari guided me over there.
“What you think about these?” he asked me, picking up all white Air Max’s.
I narrowed my eyes. “I think those are for women, Omari.”
He gave me a strange look. “You think I don’t know that, girl? I asked you how they look.”
“They’re cute.”
“Okay, so let’s see if they got ‘em. A eight, right?”
I hesitated. “Yeah. I wear a eight, but I can’t do nothing with those shoes.”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Cause I’d be wearing them bitches every day, and they’d get super dirty.”
He sucked his teeth, waving me off. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he talked to the white shoe saleslady. “Can I get these in a eight, in white and black?”
“Sure,” she answered politely, retrieving the shoe from him.
Immediately, he went back to scoping out the shoes, while I stood there feeling lost. “Say, these bitches is clean,” he clamored, as he picked up a pair of Retro Jordans. The colors were all light, indicating that they were made for girls. He whirled around, laying eyes on another salesman. “Say, my man. Can I get this shoe in a eight?”
“Sure,” the dude answered, scurrying to get what was requested of him.
“Omari, why are you getting these people to bring all these shoes out? The black Air Max’s are cool. I’ll go with them.”
He scowled at me. “Mya, what did I say in the car?”
My eyes wandered around. “Follow your lead.”
“Exactly,” he chided, before eyeing a pair of casual brown and plaid Sperry’s, which were a little over a hundred dollars. “They need to go get these too,” he announced, never looking my way. I guess at this point my input wasn’t even necessary.
Needless to say, I was in awe as he paid for five pairs of shoes, totaling at over eight hundred dollars. We then found ourselves in the women’s clothing department. “Why you just standing there?” he asked me. “Find something to wear, man,” he urged.
Slowly, I sifted through the racks of clothing. I plucked a few pairs of jeans from the shelves in size eighteens, and he frowned.
“Don’t you think those jeans are too big?”
“Umm,” I bit my bottom lip. “The last time I went shopping with my mama this was the size I got.”
“Okay, well, try those fourteens and sixteens, and see what works for you,” he instructed.
Reluctantly, I went into the dressing room to try on the Levi jeans. I hated trying on clothes. Thinking that I’d eliminate the smallest size first, I tried on the fourteen. To my surprise the jeans were a snug fit, accentuating my huge ass. I honestly thought that I wouldn’t be able to get them above my thighs, but had been so wrong. I loved the way they fit, and had to have them.
“Aye, let me see,” Omari knocked on the door.
Still wearing the jeans, I opened up, allowing him to see inside.
He looked me up and down, tucking his lips into his mouth. “That’s what’s up. Yeah, definitely get them hoes. Turn around, right quick.”
I slowly twirled around.
“Yeah, they’re just right,” he said, as he studied my backside.
Feeling a little awkward, I grabbed the door. “Alright. Let me change.” I pulled the door closed.
After fully redressing, I grabbed the jeans I wanted, before rejoining him. I was truly content with what I’d picked out, and was cool with just those three pairs of Levi’s. But he insisted that I continue finding shit. I went from Levi’s to Ralph Lauren to Lacoste. I even grabbed some Mac products. Then when I thought that we were done, he made sure that I picked up some Ralph Lauren Polo kakis and polo shirts for school. By the time, we reached the register I just knew that he’d lost his mind.
“That’ll be sixteen eighty-four and fifty-five cents,” the cashier uttered, ringing up the final item.
“Cool, cool,” he mumbled, pulling out a huge knot of money. I watched intently, as he peeled back hundred after hundred. Eventually, he handed that lady seventeen hundred dollars, and I was floored. Nobody had ever spent that type of money on me at once. Not my mama. Not my daddy. Nobody. But Omari had without batting an eye.
“Say, you familiar with Super Weave Express?” he questioned, as we struggled back to the car with all those bags.
“Yeah. Why?”
“I think they close at six o’clock. It’s just four. Let’s swing by there.”
“For what?” I squinted.
He sighed loudly, as if I was asking the dumbest question. “It definitely aint for me, Mya.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I went with the flow. By seven that evening I had a fresh silk press, along with some false lashes that could’ve passed for my own. Omari had gone all out, and I hardly recognized myself as I stood in our bathroom’s vanity mirror. I would’ve completely forgotten about how bad my day had started off, if it wasn’t for the huge scratches I still had in my face.
“I should still kill those bitches,” I mumbled, as Omari stepped into the bathroom, standing directly behind me.
“Kill ‘em by showing them they aint stopped shit. Go to school tomorrow with your head held high, and don’t let them stupid ass bitches shake you. That’ll eat them alive.”
I gazed at his reflection in the mirror, seeing it this time. He was confident in his words of encouragement, and I was too. Things were looking up, and I wasn’t gonna allow some simple bitches to take that from me.
Omari
I had less than thirty minutes, before it was time to pick up Meeka, but I had to make a pit stop first. Pulling into the driveway, I knew her mama wasn’t at home. Hurriedly, I jumped out of the Jeep, and marched up to her door. Impatiently, I rang her doorbell.
“So, you finally decided to show up?” she snatched the door open, and sassily folded her arms.
“Man, get the fuck out the way.” I shoved past her, letting myself into her house. Her dumb ass was hot on my heels.
“You didn’t see me calling your phone?”
I spun around, damn near knocking her down. “Yeah, and I don’t know why the fuck you hitting me up. After the way you clowned I aint got shit for you.”
Brea looked like she wanted to cry. Her light skin was beet red, and she was looking ugly as fuck. Mya had really done damage to her face, which really revealed how weak she was. After
jumping the girl, she still walked away fucked up.
“After the way I clowned, Omari?” she asked, sounding like she was in disbelief. “You come over here, and fuck me whenever you want. I suck your dick until my mouth hurts, and I deal with your living situation. But how am I supposed to respond to seeing a video of you doing shit with that hoe that you never do with me? I can’t ever get some time, but you getting chummy as fuck with your girlfriend’s daughter? You don’t think I be hearing all yall niggas talk about wanting to fuck her? And how she went back to wearing tight ass clothes, after you moved in? Huh? The fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
“Main, do you hear yourself? You sounding like them old ass women, talking about your cheating ass husband. Over analyzing shit.”
“That’s how I feel,” she sniffed.
“Yeah? But the only problem with that is that I aint ya nigga. We just fuck on occasion. I don’t know how you ever got it twisted, but I aint looking for a relationship. Especially not with you. We was just supposed to be kicking it, until ya BD get out, but now you done attacked my people. Took shit way too far. So, I can’t fuck with you no more, Brea. You know that.”
“Your people? Your fucking people?” she fumed. “Nigga, is you serious? You don’t even defend her mama like that, but she ya people?”
“Look,” I gritted my teeth. “I don’t owe you a fucking explanation, but on God, if you don’t let this shit go, I’ma introduce some real gangsta shit into ya life. I know that BD gets out in two months, and I’d hate to tell him how you kept my dick in your mouth. Or better yet, a series of unfortunate events could take place. Just like they did for your bitch ass cousin. Or did you forget?”
I saw the look of fear engulf her face. The lil’ young hoe was naive as fuck. She’d been all on my dick since I’d first gotten out of jail, despite the beef I’d had in the past with her older cousin, which landed him in a wheelchair permanently. He’d made the mistake of trying to break into my house, and I shot his ass. But she didn’t give a fuck about none of it, and chose some dick over loyalty to her family. So, if nothing else she knew that I was sincere with my threats.
“So, you threatening me over her?” she sniveled. “It’s like that?”
“It’s the way you made it,” I clarified. “And if I hear about you fucking with Mya again, you or your friends, I’ma personally handle you and them bitches. I put that on something.”
Chapter 6
Mya
I don’t think I’d been up this early in years. It was five in the morning, and I was already preparing for school. I wanted to make sure that I was ready for the day, and sadly was planning to leave before my mama even knew that I was awake. I didn’t need her tripping on the fit of my clothes, or the mere fact that I had new clothes.
So, I was in the bathroom, unwrapping my hair, allowing it to cascade down my back. I parted it down the middle, then using an old tooth brush and edge control I slicked down some baby hairs. I then applied some Mac foundation over the scratches in my face.
Once I was fully dressed, wearing Ralph Lauren slacks and a polo, along with my Jordans, I just stared at my reflection. It had been so long since I’d looked or felt this good. Even with my weight gain, I was loving what I saw. “Don’t get too brand new on ‘em, Mya,” I whispered to myself, as I applied a nice coat of lip gloss to my lips.
Not wanting to make too much noise, I slowly tipped through the apartment, and out the front door. After locking up, I strutted down the sidewalk, grateful to be home free, until I realized how spooky it was to be outside before sunrise. Stepping through the parking lot, I noticed that my mama’s Jeep’s windows were fogged up, indicating that someone was inside. I shook my head, knowing Omari had to be in there. It was almost routine for him to now come home when the sun was coming up, and my mama was having bitch fits about it, especially since he would be in her vehicle.
Before I could stroll past, he tooted the horn, yelling out of the window. “Mya, come here!”
“What?” I dragged out, as I stomped over to him.
“Get in,” he insisted, before raising the window back up.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled the passenger’s door open, and eased inside. “What’s up?”
I wasn’t surprised to see that he was still wearing the same clothes from the day before. Ironically, his entire look was still crisp, as if he’d just dressed minutes before, and he smelled heavenly. He took a puff off his blunt, as he carefully observed me, I guess, taking in my appearance. “What you doing out here so early? The sun aint even up.”
“I know, but I’m trying to avoid Meeka. You know how much of a hater she is, and if she sees me like this, she’ll find any and everything wrong with it…and question how I got it.”
“True.” He handed me the blunt.
I brought it to my lips, taking a hit.
“But it’s dark out here, Mya. Your bus don’t pull up for at least a hour. So, where are you going?”
“I was gonna walk to the store to kill time,” I admitted.
“What?” he scrunched his face up. “Girl, the fuck is wrong with you? You aint finna walk down West Belfort, before day breaks. You asking to get got.”
“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes. “Whenever my mama snatches her truck from you, you don’t have no problems walking down the same damn street. What’s the difference?”
“This the difference.” He reached on the side of the driver’s seat, lifting a gun up. “I’m one of them muthafuckas to look out for. Slippers get got, Mya.”
“Okay, then, what do you suggest I do? What if she finds out that you bought me this stuff?”
“I really don’t care what she knows. The fuck can she do to me?” he nonchalantly shrugged. “But I know you can catch some flack, so you should either go to one of ya lil’ friends’ houses, or call me.”
“Call you?” I frowned. “With what phone?” I questioned. He knew damn well that my broke ass didn’t have a cell, we had no house phone, and using Meeka’s cell was out of the question.
He rubbed his hands together, as he gazed out of the windshield. “Well, we gonna have to fix that, huh?”
For a few seconds I stared at him, until he took notice.
“What?” he glanced my way.
“Why are you being so helpful? What are you expecting in return?”
He frowned. “I aint expecting shit.”
“So, why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you doing all of this?”
He locked eyes with me, before smirking. “Why shouldn’t I, Mya?”
I gulped. “I guess because nobody else does.”
“And that’s all the more of a reason for me to do it. I mean, I aint looking for nothing in return. It just fucked me up to hear you talk like that yesterday. And I know how cruel muthafuckas can be in school, so I decided to do something about it. Ion know why your mama would want her only child walking around fucked up, but that shit don’t sit right with me. Shit, dealing with life is hard enough, so why add trivial shit to it, like your clothes and hair?” he asked the rhetorical question. “Shit, honestly, I aint never spent that kind of money on a girl. Whether I was fucking her or not. But you cool people, and if I was gonna spend money on somebody, I was a’ight with it being you.”
My gaze fell down to my lap, as I digested the things he’d said. “Thank you, Omari.” I lifted my head. “I don’t think I told you that yesterday.”
“You welcome. Just do me one favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Let that beef shit go. Whatever happened yesterday happened. Keep your eyes on the prize. Fuck them hating ass hoes. They just intimidated by all that body you got. You can’t apologize for the what the Lord blessed you with.”
I blushed, as he gave me a compliment. It was the first time he’d verbally acknowledged my figure. I had to giggle, as I thought about it. “Omari, sometimes I be feeling like you be looking at my booty.”
He tucked his lips
into his mouth. “I mean, I do. I can’t fuckin’ miss it. Shit, what you want me to say?”
“I…I don’t know. Sometimes I feel so awkward with you, because right and wrong seems to be blurred together, you know?”
“Yeah, I feel you. This shit is weird. You closer to my age than your mama, so we just naturally have more shit in common. And you’re easier to talk to. I can’t seem to have a conversation with Meeka without getting annoyed.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “She has that effect on people.”
“Hell, yeah,” he chuckled, as I passed the blunt back to him. “But keeping it real, Ion be feeling no type of way about what I’m doing. I mean, I know that me and Meeka are temporary. And I’m not plotting. Shit, Ion know how a nigga can claim to be real, and be cool with how she gets down. Ion fuck with the way she handles you, so how she’ll feel about shit don’t even enter my mind. I honestly don’t give a fuck.”
“Shit, well, it must be a lot of muthafuckas who aint real. Cause nobody has ever tried to step in, and tell her that she’s wrong.”
“And that means they’re all full of shit. I mean, in most cases you got ya mama in ya corner when you aint got shit else. And to witness a broad who just don’t seem to give a fuck about her own daughter is crazy to me. It’s unsettling, really. Can’t trust her. Shit, if she can’t do right by you, then anybody can be collateral damage. Including me,” he summed up.
“Hey.” I bucked my eyes. “Can’t argue with that.”
“I know you can’t.” he nicked my chin. And I felt lame as that simple physical contact had my clit thumping.
“Damn, that weed got my stomach growling.” I held my stomach, saying anything to deflect from what was really on my mind.
“Yeah?” he grinned lazily, probably high from the weed. “You wanna swing by Ihop?” he asked.
“Damn, Ihop, nigga? I was thinking that you were gonna say McDonald’s or something.”
“Nah, I wanna sit down and eat.”
“But I gotta go to school.” My eyes wandered around the truck.
“You got plenty of time. School don’t start for a couple of hours.”
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