by Cairo
Someone comes into the room and starts fumbling with the tube in my arm, checking my fluids. A nurse, I believe. As she’s leaving from my bedside, someone else enters the room. Jasper, I say in my head. Before he ever opens his mouth, I know it’s him. I can feel his presence; smell his scent.
“Is she okay? Has she awakened yet?” I hear him ask.
“She’s stirred some,” the female voice says. “But she hasn’t actually opened her eyes. Her vitals are good, so that’s an excellent sign.”
I try to speak, but my jaw is wired. My lips are dry. My body is weak and sore. I groan, wanting to lick my chapped lips.
“Hey, baby,” he says. I mumble words inaudible to him, forcing my one eye open. Jasper’s face comes into view as he takes my hand into his. He smiles at me. “Don’t try to speak, baby. You had me worried as fuck, yo.”
I scan the room the best I can with one eye. See the nurse walking back into the room. He tells her I’m awake. “I’m going to get the doctor to come in and take a look at her,” she replies, turning around.
“Aiight, cool,” Jasper says.
“How long have I been here?” I ask, straining. It hurts to talk; it burns when I swallow. Four days, he tells me. Tells me an early morning jogger found me lying in the park, bloody and unconscious, and dialed 9-1-1.
“Why would someone wanna do this, yo? You know how fucked up I’ve been over this?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, turning my head from him. How the fuck do I tell him that I literally sucked a looney nigga out of his crazy-ass mind? How do I tell him that I was bored and horny and got caught up posting ads for oral sex? That I’ve become a full-fledged cock and cum whore?
“Damn, baby. You had a muhfucka so fuckin’ worried ’bout ya sexy ass. Word is bond! You had a nigga stressin’ hard, yo.” He squeezes my hand, then brings it up to his full lips and kisses it.
Jasper becomes quiet, staring off into the distance. I watch him out of my one good eye, wondering what’s going through his mind. He looks tired, worried. And my heart aches, knowing that I’m the cause of his troubles. I squeeze his hand, bringing his attention back to me. When he turns to look at me, I notice tears gliding down his face.
“What’s wrong, baby?” I hear myself asking in my head, feeling myself becoming overwhelmed with care and concern and guilt and love for him. “Talk to me.”
He shakes his head as if he can hear me. “I’m so fuckin’ glad you aiight, feel me? This shit…not knowin’ where you were had ya man fucked up, for real, yo.” His voice trails off as he’s wiping his tears. “I’ve never cried over no fuckin’ chick before, yo. That’s how fucked up this shit has been for me.”
I am staring at him, hurting for him, for me. Wishing I could have stayed off my knees, kept the dicks out of my throat, and waited for Jasper to come home to me, like I promised him I would. Seeing him cry is killing me.
“I love you so fucking much, yo,” he tells me. He lets his tears fall unchecked. “Seeing you like this hurts me.”
I hear one of my attackers’ voices in my head. You stuck up, dick-sucking bitch. I’ma gag you on my cock for a while. Then when I’m done with that, I’m gonna flip you over and mercilessly fuck you in that fat, juicy ass of yours until I bust my nut in you. Then I’ma give you a piss enema deep in ya ass. After that, we should toss ya smutty ass out so you can face the world knowing you’ve been completely degraded and humiliated. And if you ever open ya fuckin’ mouth to tell anyone, I’m gonna hunt you down and slice your muthafuckin’ throat.
I feel myself choking back tears. I squeeze Jasper’s hand, my only way of comforting him. I hope I didn’t lose the baby, I think, shutting my eyes. I will never be able to forgive myself if my recklessness caused something to happen to my baby. Instinctively, he touches my stomach as if he senses my burning need to know. “I’m all fucked-up inside, baby. I’m tellin’ you, yo. This shit had a muhfucka on edge.” He lets out a sigh. “I’m so fuckin’ relieved you and the baby are aiight. That’s all that matters; feel me, yo? If I woulda lost you and my seed, I’da lost it for real, yo. We connected, baby. You hear me?” I nod. “For life.” His eyes lock onto mine. There’s pain and hurt mixed with love in them. I stare back at him, unblinking. My heart aches for the pain I’ve caused him. Tears are streaming down my face. I close my eye, again. Slowly turn my head from him. To teach you a lesson… To teach you a lesson…To teach you a lesson… The words replay in my head, over and over. To teach you a lesson…To teach you a lesson…To teach you a lesson… I swallow, hard. Slowly, I turn my head back toward Jasper. He’s talking to two detectives, a white male and black female. I overhear him telling them to come back in a few days; that I need my rest. Another voice blares in my head, causing a pounding headache to surface. Yo, nigga, what the fuck you doin’? She’s pregnant… I told you, muhfucka, nothin’ happens to her or her baby…
She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. She’s pregnant. Those words echo in my head as I repeat them over and over and over, again. How did he know I was pregnant? The only person who knew was…I blink back tears. OhmyGod, it can’t be. I glance at Jasper. Watch him wipe tears from his face. I stare at him as he walks over to me. He shares a slight smile. Pain shoots through my head. I let out a loud groan, which causes Jasper to press the button for the nurse. Don’t have me fuck you up, yo…If I find out you playin’ me, yo…I’ma fuck you up…I’ma fuck you up…I’ma fuck you up… I blink, blink again…she’s pregnant…to teach you a lesson…
He sees it in my eyes—fear. The nurse rushes in. I hear him tell her that I’m in pain. I grunt louder. “Hellllllp…me…”
The nurse rubs my hand. “I know, sweetie; you’re in a lot of pain.”
I grunt louder. “Helllllllp…meeeee…”
“I know, sweetie. I’m going to see about getting you something for the pain.” I shake my head, grunt again. “Nnoooooooooo…hellllllllllp…me.” She continues to fumble with my IV. Tells me everything’s going to be okay. She doesn’t understand my grunting. Jasper does.
“Yo, is she aiight?” I hear Jasper ask. “Is the baby okay?”
“Her vitals seem good. But I’m going to have the doctor come in and have a look at her,” I hear the nurse tell him.
“I’m worried about her and my baby.”
“Don’t worry. Your fiancé and baby will be fine. Let me go get the doctor.”
I grunt again. Make loud, agonizing growling sounds as she walks out of the room.
I’ma fuck you up…let me find out you playin’ me, yo…I’ma fuck you up…to teach you a lesson…She’s pregnant… Everything around me is blurry, but I think I see Jasper smirking. Or is he smiling. He leans in, kisses me on the forehead, then softly on the lips. “I know what you’re thinkin’, baby…” I hear him say.
My head is pounding. The tears burn my eyes. I blink them away. I feel like someone is crushing my chest. I struggle to breathe. Fight for air. I’m starting to hyperventilate. OhmyGod! OhmyGod! OhmyGod!
Jasper strokes my face. “It’s over wit’, baby…all that shit you was doin’…” He pauses, lets his words hover over me. Then he leans into my ear and whispers, “I warned you, Pasha. Told you don’t fuckin’ play me, yo.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cairo is the author of Daddy Long Stroke, The Manhandler and The Kat Trap. He resides in New Jersey, where he is working on his next literary creation, Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang. His travels to Egypt are what inspired his pen name. You can email him at: [email protected]. Or visit him at www.booksbycairo.com, www.myspace.com/cairo2u, www.facebook.com/CairoBlack, or www.blackplanet.com/cairo2u
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KITTY-
KITTY,
BANG-BANG
COMING FALL 2011 FROM STREBOR BOOKS
CHAPTER ONE
Fly, exotic bitch wit’ the long lashes and slanted eyes…smooth, buttery thighs…fat ass…soft lips…got niggas ’n they bitches tryna get up in these hips…got ’
em turnin’ tricks…beggin’ to lick the clit…while I’m ridin’ down on a nigga’s dick…got muhfuckas lined up to get glazed wit’ my cream…niggas tossin’ ’n turnin’…can’t get me outta they dreams…Ice on my neck, wrists and hands…Hermès Birkin bag draped on my arm…diamond stilettos on my feet…don’t be misled…I’m from the hood, baby…shit ain’t sweet…do me wrong…end up dead…
’Scuse me, bitches! Can I have ya attention, please? In case some of you hatin’-ass tricks and hoes forgot who I am, let me reintroduce myself. I’m that cinnamon-colored beauty with that sexy swagger and straight-up bangin’ body that keeps the bitches rollin’ they eyes—and niggas recklessly eyeballin’ me, undressin’ and tryna mentally fuck me. I’m that chick rockin’ all the fly wears and pushin’ the hot-ass whip that all the other bitches wanna be like. I’m the chick bitches still wanna hate, but love to grin up in her face, always wantin’ to be up in her space ’cause I’m e’erything they’ll never be. Rich, fly and muthafuckin’ F-I-N-E! Not braggin’; just keepin’ shit real. Bitch, whaaaat?
Call me shallow, call me superficial; call me whatever the fuck floats ya boat, but know this: you’ll never call a bitch broke, busted, or beat down. So keep hatin’. Keep poppin’ shit. Keep pickin’ ya face up. ’Cause a bitch like me feeds you dust. So, poof!
Annnnnnnywho, for my bitches and niggahs who I fucks wit’, I was on hiatus for a hot minute. I had’a step outta the game to get my mind right. ’Cause on some real shit, after how shit went down in Atlantic City it had a bitch’s dome all jacked. Oh, trust. I heard how some’a them corny-ass broads were tryna come at my neck for puttin’ a bullet in Grant’s bucket. Predictable, they say? Uh, what the fuck them birds thought I was gonna do? Let the nigga walk after he done popped up in the room and saw I done bodied his brotha? Bitch, puhleeze. You must be smokin’ that shit if you thought I was gonna let that nigga get a free pass. Yeah, he had that bomb-ass dick. And yeah, the nigga’s head game was sick. He knew how’ta tongue-fuck this pussy ’til a bitch shook. But, fuck what ya heard. Good dick, slammin’ tongue, or not. My number one rule is: No witnesses, no evidence. Period! So say what the fuck you want. I’ma paid bitch, not a dumb one.
Still, I’ma keep it raw wit’cha. For a hot minute, my soul ached. It ripped a bitch’s heart to have’ta lay that fine, sexy nigga down. And yeah … I dropped a few tears. But there was no other option. Well, none that was gonna work for me. Prison, not! Him puttin’ lead in me, not! Me stressin’, wonderin’ if the nigga’s gonna be on some revenge-type shit, not! So, he had to go. And for a bitch like me, it was for the best.
Like I told ya’ll from the dip, I fucked for sport. But I murdered for business. Yes, you heard me. I said fucked and murdered as in past tense. Well, for now, that is. It’s been almost two years since a bitch rode down on sum dick, then took the nigga’s head off. Shit, a bitch ain’t had no dick since … neva mind. I ain’t in the mood to get into it right now.
Annnnnywaaaayz, when I was bodyin’ muhfuckas, there was no time for compassion or sympathy. And there was definitely no time for muthafuckin’ regret. Unfortunately, Grant got caught up bein’ at the wrong place at the wrong time, and got got. The shit wasn’t personal. I couldn’t let it be. It was ’bout clockin’ that paper ’cause a bitch was gettin’ paid by the body. Not gettin’ clanked up. So fuck all that ying-yang ya’ll been poppin’. I had’a do what I had’a do. And sheddin’ a buncha tears ’bout sum shit I couldn’t change wasn’t gonna bring the nigga back. He was dead. And a bitch had’a keep pressin’. So, yes, I put back on my wig, slipped my chrome back into my bag and slid outta the hotel room, chokin’ back tears. When I got back to my rental and had to make that call to Cash that was one’a the hardest things I had’a do. I remember, takin’ a deep breath, tryna steady my voice as I told him, “I know why the caged bird sings.”
“That’s what it is,” he said to me as he always did each time I called him to let him know a mission was completed. Then after I told him that there was another body in the room, I had’a tell him that a bitch needed a break. I knew if I didn’t bounce I was gonna end up snappin’ or doin’ sum other reckless shit. Like I told ya’ll before I knew that shit was in my blood—killin’. Lookin’ into a nigga’s eyes, splatterin’ his fuckin’ brains while ridin’ down on his dick did sumthin’ to a bitch. Made my pussy hot, made it pop. The thrill of the kill turned me on. And it overshadowed the risks. But that shit down in Atlantic City cost me sumthin’. It cost me what was startin’ to feel like love—well, at least the idea of it—and the chance to finally be free.
However, a bitch had’a get the fuck over it. Heartache and cryin’ over a nigga ain’t what I do. My name ain’t Juanita, okay? Uh, duh, the neglectful bitch—yes, you heard me right. I said bitch!—who dropped me outta her hairy pussy for those of you who can’t remember the script. I saw enough of that shit growin’ up watchin’ her dumb ass go nutty over the dick. I swore I would never, ever be her. And I mean that.
Speakin’ of that bird, I haven’t seen or spoken to her ass since that night she came to my spot with her face all banged the fuck up by that young nigga she was fuckin’. Then she had the fuckin’ audacity to bring her sister Rosa wit’ her ass. And that bitch came poppin’ outta bushes tryna bring it, callin’ me out to fight her like the ghetto-ass bird she is. Get real. I’m done wit’ all of ’em. As far as I’m concerned I ain’t got no family. And I made that very clear when I pulled my chrome out on ’em. And, hell muthafuckin’ yeah, don’t get it twisted. I woulda put a bullet in both of them bitches. E’erything Juanita stands for makes me fuckin’ sick. She’s a weak bitch in my eyes. And I don’t respect her. Nor do I have any love for her. But the crazy thing is I don’t hate her ass either. I don’t feel shit for her. I guess ’cause I learned to finally accept who she was, and is—neglectful, selfish, and straight pathetic. Which is why I had no problem lookin’ her dead in her busted-up eyes and tellin’ her flat out that I wanted nuthin’ else to do wit’ her, then slammin’ my door in her raggedy-ass face. I meant that shit on e’erything I love. And that ain’t much, trust.
My cell phone rings, snappin’ me outta my thoughts. I grab it off the nightstand, peepin’ the digits.
“Bitch,” Chanel snaps in my ear the minute I answer. “What took ya ass so long to answer?”
“Slut,” I snap back, “the last time I checked I wasn’t suckin’ ya clit so pump ya raggedy brakes ’fore you get ya fronts knocked.”
She laughs. “Trick, puhleeze. Ya ass ’posed pick up on da first ring. You know what it is, boo. Don’t have ma-ma spank that ass.” She laughs harder. Oh, I see this ho is in rare form this mornin’, I think as I try ’n hold back a yawn.
“Yeah, I know you better fall back wit’ all that boo ’n ma-ma shit. I done warned ya ass ’bout that lesbo shit. It’s too early in the fuckin’ mornin’ for that clit-lickin’ bullshit.” She continues laughin’. This bitch is my girl ’n all, but I swear sometimes she be on some real extra shit. Not that I give a fuck if she’s poppin’ tits ’n clits in her mouth, ’cause she’s gonna be my girl, regardless. But a bitch like me is only takin’ a dick that’s attached to a real nigga in the back of her throat and deep in her fat pussy. “Hahaha, hell, bitch. I can’t stand nuthin’ yo’ cum-guzzlin’ ass stand for.”
“Yeah, right,” she says, crackin’ up. “That’s what ya mouth says.”
“Whaaateva. Why the fuck is you callin’ me, tramp?”
“Fuck all that you talkin’,” she says, chucklin’. “Oh, before I forget, guess who I ran into the other night and was askin’ ’bout you?”
“Who?”
“Patrice. And as usual ya aunt was dipped in some ill shit.”
I roll my eyes. Yeah, I’ll give it to her ass, though. The ho definitely knows how’ta throw it on. But, she still ain’t as bad as me. And she damn sure ain’t servin’ me. I bet her ass is still livin’ up in da projects wit’ Nana, triflin’ bitch! “Mmmph, where you see that roach at?” She
tells me she ran into her at the Ledisi concert at BB King Blues Club and Grill in Times Square. “Well, I don’t know why the fuck she was tryna check for me.”
“She wanted to know what you were up to, then started talkin’ ’bout how you done got all brand new on e’eryone, changin’ ya numbers ’n shit.”
“Yup, fuck all’a them hoes. And I hope you didn’t tell that bitch shit, either.”
“Oh, she was tryna fish me, but trust … you already know. I got you. I kept it real cute.”
“Good. They all dead to me.”
“I hear you, girl. But, damn … that’s kinda harsh.”
“Harsh my ass. It is what it is.”
“Kat, you know I usually keep my mouth shut, but this craziness between ya’ll has been goin’ on for too long. That’s still ya family, girl. Don’t you think it’s time ya’ll try ’n peace shit up?”
“Yeah, when that bitch’s in a box and I spit on her grave. Then it’s peace. Until then, that bitch is invisible to me.”
“Well, alrighty then. Movin’ right along. The reeeeal reason I was callin’ ya ass is to find out when you bringin’ ya dusty-ass back to the East Coast. There’s this bangin’-ass party comin’ up the end of next month and you need to have ya ass here for it.”
“Umm, Sweetie, you know I ain’t beat to be ’round a buncha played-out, dick-thirsty Wal-mart bitches.”
“Trick, don’t clown me. You know I wouldn’t be callin’ ya ass for no low-budget showdowns. This is all top-of-da-line dick and dollas, boo.”
“Hmmph. Who’s givin’ it?” I ask, tryna decide if I wanna blaze. I glance at the clock. 8:45 A.M. I get outta bed and walk over to my armoire and open it. I pull out a bag of purple haze. Open it, then take a deep whiff, closin’ my eyes. Yeah, this that good shit right here, but I ain’t feelin’ it. I reseal the bag, then toss it back in the drawer, pullin’ out the chocolate thai. Yeah, this is what’a bitch needs to jumpstart the mornin’.