Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

“Ouch,” he says, laughin’. “Yo, Kat, I see ya ass is still fuckin’ crazy; still poppin’ mad shit.”

“That’s right, muhfucka. Ain’t shit changed, nigga. Hit me up when you find that nigga.” I disconnect, shut the phone off, tossin’ it back in my bag.

The bathroom door swings open, almost knockin’ the shit outta me. My mouth drops open. “Abuela,” I say, steppin’ back. I’m not sure if I should be shocked or happy to see my grandmother since I haven’t physically seen ’er in over three years.

“Puta, por que you wanna take mi hija y nieto de mi? Why?”

Ohmiimuthafuckin’gaaaawd! I can’t believe she has come outta her face and called me a bitch. She’s standin’ in front of me icegrillin’ me. I know chickie has a right to be pissed knowin’ I wanna shut shit down, but comin’ at me sideways…uh, I don’t think so.

“I’m not takin’ anyone away from you. She’s already dead. And, as far as that grandchild you’re talkin’ ’bout, who’s ’posed to raise it?”

“Who else,” she huffs, indignantly like I done asked a retarded-ass question, “su familia.”

I laugh. “Her family? Who, you?” I swing my bag up over my shoulder. I have’ta get away from ’er ass before I really go off on ’er. “Oh, puuuhleeze. You have…well, had four daughters, and all four of ’em are fucked up. Now one of ’em is out there on a respirator, dead ’n pregnant. So, if you didn’t get it right wit’ any of them trick-ass bitches, what makes you think you gonna get it right now?”

She slaps me. I squeeze my hand into a fist. Catch myself from knockin’ the shit outta ’er. Grandmother or not, this bitch has crossed the line. I stare at the bathroom door, wonderin’ if anyone else is gonna walk in. Hopin’ I’d have time to slip on my knuckles and bring it to granny’s head.

I touch the side of my face. Glare at ’er. A bitch is blazin’ mad right ’bout now. And, although I have neva, eva, disrespected this woman, today she might get it if I don’t get the fuck away from ’er—now!

“Verguenza me!”

I still can’t get past the fact that she hit me in my face. Now she’s standin’ here talkin’ ’bout I’ve shamed her. What da fuck?! “How, grandmother? How have I shamed you? Please explain that to me.”

“Su espalda en su familia. Why? You weren’t raised like this; hateful.”

“Ohmiifuckin’gawd, do you really wanna do this, here?” I slam my hand up on my hip. Point my finga in ’er face. And straight disrespect the shit outta ’er. She steps back, clutchin’ her chest. Her eyes widen. “Bitch, I don’t have no family. They turned their backs on me a long time ago, includin’ you. So how da fuck you know how I was raised, hunh? Were you there? No! Ya ass was too busy lettin’ Patrice’s niggas run drugs ’n guns in and outta ya spot. And too muthafuckin’ busy makin’ excuses for Rosa stealin’ from ya ass when you knew da bitch was gettin’ high. Did you eva give a fuck ’bout whether or not I ate ’cause Juanita’s dickjunkie ass was too damn fucked up over niggas to make sure I had food to eat? No, ho, you weren’t. You were too muthafuckin’ busy worryin’ ’bout Elise’s kids while her ass was munchin’ on pussy in prison. So don’t eva talk to me ’bout how da fuck I was raised.”

She raises ’er hand to slap me again. But I grab it. Clench my teeth. “Let me make myself very clear. I don’t give. A. Fuck. If you eva put ya muthafuckin’ hands on me again, I will forget you’re my grandmother and beat ya old-ass down.” I let go of ’er wrist. “You know what, forget it. Get da fuck outta my face. I want you, and your cracked-out, whore-ass daughters to stay da fuck away from me. All you bitches have fucked my life up enough.”

“Oh mi Dios! You talk to me like this? Curse me? Su abuela? I will pray for your soul. You’re nothing but hijo del Diablo!”

She tells me I’m the devil’s child. I laugh. “You need’a pray for ya own soul, sweetie. The Devil’s been fuckin’ you and your daughter’s your whole life. So, I guess that makes ya’ll bitches his whores!”

I brush past ’er, angrily swingin’ the bathroom door open, leavin’ ’er standin’ in the middle of the bathroom lookin’ stupid ’n fucked up.

I stop back ova to the nurse’s station. Tell ’em I’ve changed my mind; that they can do whateva they need to do keep Juanita’s baby alive. The doctor and head nurse look relieved. He goes to say sumthin’, but I put a finga up to stop ’im. I’m not in the mood to hear shit he or anyone else has to say. I tell ’em this. Tell ’em I’ll be back in a few days to talk. Then I pop my hips to the elevators one foot in front of the other, holdin’ back a flood of tears as I make my way back to my whip. I disarm it, then slide behind the wheel. My face is streaked wit’ tears, but a bitch refuses to break down. For what? It’s not gonna change a muthafuckin’ thing.

Maybe it won’t, but you’re doin’ da right thing, Kat.

For who?

For you.

How da fuck is keepin’ a brain-dead bitch who ain’t neva gave a fuck ’bout me alive da right thing to do for me? She’s not even aware of what’s goin’ on ’round ’er; that’s not livin’.

Before I can cum up wit’ an answer that makes fuckin’ sense, my cell rings, snappin’ me outta my thoughts. I swipe tears from my face, pullin’ my phone outta my bag.

“Yeah?”

“Yo, wassup? You want sum company? I’m tryna see you.”

I stare at myself in my rearview mirror. I feel so fuckin’ numb. And a bitch really ain’t beat for bein’ alone today…or tonight. I know this muhfucka ain’t nuthin’ but trouble for a bitch like me. But, right now. I don’t give’a fuck. I wanna get lost in a nigga’s arms; wanna feel a hard, chiseled body pressed up against mine; feel a heavy, bricked dick pressin’ up against my ass, then stretchin’ out my pussy. This muhfucka is it.

“I’m on my way home,” I tell ’em, startin’ my engine, then slowly backin’ outta my parkin’ space. “Be at my spot in an hour.”

“Aiight, bet.”

“And, muhfucka, you already know what it is if ya ass ain’t there on time.”

He laughs. “Yeah, aiight. Not this time, baby. I’m already in ya driveway.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

I’m cummin’…nuttin’ all over ya dick…freak-nasty bitch ’bout to make you spit…wit’ one tongue lap on my clit…’bout to make you forget…bitch so fly…pussy so tight…got ya thinkin’ you can touch da sky…

“Aaaaah, yesssss…eat my pussy, muhfucka…yeah…ohhhh, shit… get ya tongue all up in there…”

I’m dropped down low on Alex’s face wit’ my thighs clamped ’round his head. He has my fluffy ass cheeks pulled wide open, lickin’ my pussy, suckin’ on my clit, dartin’ his tongue in ’n outta my slippery slit. A bitch can’t front. The nigga’s tongue game is siiiick! “You like how that pussy taste, nigga?” I ask, grindin’ my pelvis down on his face. His long tongue feels soooooooooooo fuckin’ good inside’a me.

He moans. “Yeah, ma…ya pussy taste good…you gonna let me put my dick in this pussy?”

I moan. “Shut…aaaah…da…oooh, shit…fuck…mmmm…up… and eat my pussy, nigga.”

When I finish bustin’ all in his mouth, I let go of the head-board, slide my body down his and grind my hot, steamy pussy on his long, black dick. Nigga gotta thick dick like a tree trunk. He’s runnin’ his hands up ’n down my body, then stops on my ass. He palms it. “Daaaaamn, ma…you gotta fat ass. I love da way you feel on me. Ya body feels like silk.” He kisses me, then slides his tongue deep in my mouth. I taste my pussy all over his lips and tongue. And the shit makes a bitch go wild. I suck ’em. Feel my insides start to pop like a firecracker. I wanna feel the nigga’s dick in me.

I reach down for his dick. Stroke it. It’s bricked the fuck up. Hot and heavy and feels like it could fuck a bitch into ’er grave. The nigga’s dick is bigger than Grant’s was. And it kinda reminds me of Naheem’s—black and thick, but a few inches longer. “You think this lil’-ass dick can handle this pussy heat, muhfucka?” I tease him.

He grins. “Yeah, aiiight. I got ya lil’-ass dick aiiight. I’ma ’bout to bust that pretty pussy wide open wit’ it,