Deep Throat Diva

to me. “So what’s good? Can you hook a nigga up wit’ some of that deep throat or what?”

I swear this day has turned into a fucking nightmare! This nigga picked one of the busiest days of the week to call me out and drag me for filth! Do you hear me!

“Well, muthafucka, I’m talkin’ to you,” Felecia snaps, rolling her neck and swinging the bat. “So anything you sayin’ to her, you sayin’ to me. Now get. The. Fuck. Out!”

I glare at the nigga, hearing him in my head say something real slick and me and Felecia jumping on his ass. In my mind’s eye, I snatch the hot curling iron off its plate and slap him across his face with it and—as if on cue— Felecia bangs him in the back of the head with the bat. He yelps. And from that point on, it is on and popping. Felecia and I start beating this nigga down like we used to when a nigga would come out of his face all sideways when we were younger.

I see this nigga hitting the floor before he can swing off. And Felecia fucking him up with the bat so bad that all he can do is ball up and try to cover up his head and face with his hands and arms to keep her from smashing his brains out. And I am stomping and kicking him, yelling for someone to call the police. I see cell phones out and the shit being recorded and this whole fiasco on the internet.

Luckily, it doesn’t unfold the way I play it out in my head. Instead, this disrespectful bastard grins and starts backing out toward the door. “Aiight, ma. You got that. I’ma bounce. But I still wanna feel them pretty-ass lips on my dick.”

To save face, I go in on him, throwing a can of hairspray at him. He ducks. And it hits the wall. “Get the fuck outta here. You wish a bitch like me would suck down on ya nasty-ass dick. Coming up in here tryna disrespect me. You couldn’t handle a bitch like me, let alone afford one like me.”

“Yeah, nigga,” Felecia warns, gripping the bat tighter. “Get the fuck out before you get beat the fuck up.”

I can’t believe this shit. First, the nigga sends me a crazy ass email wanting his dick sucked. Then he calls me at my shop and sends me an envelope calling me out. Now this shit—sending another motherfucker up in here to put me on blast like this. The shit is surreal.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, grabbing the crotch of his jeans. “Suck my dick.” I forget I have Big Booty in the chair, forget I have a salon packed with clients, forget I am in slippers, and start chasing behind him as he races out the door.

I yell at him. “You pussy-ass bitch, you better run. If you ever step foot up in my motherfucking shop again, I’ma bust a round of lead in ya ass, then call the motherfucking cops on ya bum ass.”

He turns around when he’s halfway down the block and yells out, “Suck my dick, bitch!” He laughs, running off.

That nigga has completely disrupted my day. Got my nerves all rattled. All I want to do is run to my car and speed off. The last thing I want to do is go back in and look into questioning eyes. But I do. I pull in a deep breath. Walk back into the salon. It’s so quiet I can hear my heart pounding. I hold my head up and sashay back over to my workstation, like nothing ever happened, slowly exhaling.

Big Booty says, “Miss Pasha, girl, don’t let that nigga shit on ya day. I don’t know who the fuck he was but when I find out, I’ma have my goons take it to his head for you.”

“Girl, please. It’s not that serious.”

I peep Shuwanda eyeing me with her lips all tooted up. She grunts. “Mmmph, you good ’cause I would have fucked him up for coming at me like that; especially when he’s coming at me about some shit that ain’t true. Then again, I’d still fuck him up even if it was; just for calling me out like that.”

“That nigga adds no value to my life,” I state, meeting her stare, “so he can say whatever the hell he wants. But I do know that if he ever comes back into this shop, he won’t be leaving the same way he walked in.”

“I know that’s right,” Big Booty says. “That nigga had me wantin’ to go in my bag on his ass.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” I say, removing the remaining tracks of hair, then combing out her own hair. It’s a woolly mess. “You have enough shit to deal with.”

“Still,” Shuwanda adds, “why would a muhfucka walk up in here and say some shit like that?”

Bitch, because the shit’s true. I shrug. “Who knows why crazy-ass niggas do what they do.”

“’Cause half of ’em have more dick than brains,” Felecia says, walking over.

“Then what about the niggas with more brains than dick?” someone asks.

“Oh, them niggas are dickless brainiacs.”

Everyone laughs. Then a discussion about nutty ass niggas being stuck on stupid starts and the shop comes back to life, filling up with incessant chatter and laughter. I go through the rest of the day acting as if nothing that nigga said rattled my nerves, but his voice and his words ring in my head. Bitch, suck my dick!

FOURTEEN

“So, how’d you like the lil’ delivery boy I sent you the other day?”

Hearing his voice makes my skin crawl, and makes me want to scream. It’s like listening to someone drag their jagged fingernails across a chalkboard. “Motherfucker, why are you still fucking with me?” I hiss through clenched teeth. I swear I want to snap on this crazy-ass nigga so fucking bad, but my office door is open.

He laughs. “You sound distressed.”

“No, nigga,” I correct. “I’m pissed. I’m tryna be nice about this, but the shit’s getting real played.”

“Well, check this out. I’ll stop the shit now. You ready to suck this dick?”

Click. I hang up on him, knowing in a matter of seconds he’ll be calling back. I quickly get up to close my office door. And as if on cue, a call is being transferred to me as I return to my seat. I take in a deep breath, then exhale. “Hello, Pasha speaking.”

“Bitch, I see you one of them hard-headed hoes. Hanging up on me ain’t gonna change shit. I thought I told you this already. All you gotta do is suck this dick and swallow my nut and I’m gonna dead it. But if you keep actin’ all stank ’n shit, it’s only gonna get worse. The more you say no, the more I’m gonna do to you. I don’t give a fuck how long it takes, I’ma fuck wit’ you until you either suck this dick, or take your slutty ass outta ya misery and off ya’self.”

I shudder. “And how do I know that for sure? That’ll you’ll leave me the fuck alone?” I ask, contemplating giving in. I want this shit to be done and over with already. I don’t know how much more of this can go on before someone starts putting two and two together, and comes up with the final answer—that I sucked this nigga off, and have been wetting up a string of other niggas as well.

He laughs. “You don’t.”

I huff. “Exactly. So, kiss my motherfucking ass!” I slam the receiver down, getting up from behind my desk and walking out into the shop. I walk over to Felecia and tell her to take messages for all of my calls for the rest of the day.

She lifts her eyes up from The New York Daily News, with a questioning gaze. “Oh, okay. Speaking of calls, who’s that nigga who keeps calling here for you? The nigga sounds like a real nut.”

He is. I’m standing here, hoping I can come up with a convincing enough lie to keep her from asking more questions. “Girl, he’s some nigga bugging me about a job here. And he won’t take no for an answer. He read that article they did on us in the Star Ledger and now has it in his head to work with us.”

“Doing what?” she asks, pursing her lips. I can tell her wheels are spinning.

“He’s a barber.” Bitch, you couldn’t come up with something better that that?

She taps her lip with her index finger. “Interesting.”

Fuck. “Why you say that?”

“Uh, hello…for starters, a barber means tapping into them niggas’ pockets. And if he can style, too…Mmmph. Chile, we…”

Oh, hell no. I already see where she’s trying to go with this. Even if the nigga could cut hair, which I doubt, I