“Ma’am, can you give me a description of the shooter?” the detective—a medium built brown-skinned man wit’ big brown eyes and a thick nose—asked, flippin’ open a pad, then pullin’ his pen outta the pocket of his white button-up. I notice he has a coffee stain splashed up on the right side. He looks at me, waitin’ for me to respond. I think, try to remember what the fuck the bitch looks like.
“Yeah,” I say, glancin’ down and noticin’ there’s blood on my muthafuckin’ white Louis sneaks. I’m too through. “Give me a minute to refresh my memory.” I close my eyes and think back to the day at the salon when the ho stepped to me.
“Take your time,” he says, holdin’ his pen in his hand, pressin’ its tip to the paper.
Once her face comes to me, I say, “She’s a crazy-ass, Spanish-lookin’ bitch wit’ brown hair and brown eyes. She’s ’bout five-seven, and a buck-thirty.”
“Okay. Did you actually see her shoot him?”
I frown. “I saw someone in all black standin’ in my driveway pointin’ a gun. No, I didn’t actually see da bitch pull da trigga. But, trust me. I heard it. I seen ’im drop. And I know she did it. Alex has a restrainin’ order on ’er. And da bitch was stalkin’ ’im. That’s enough for me to know it was ’er.”
“Is there anything else?”
“Yeah, ’er name is Ramona and she—” I stop myself, rememberin’ I took the nigga’s phone to call his fam. Good thing I had the passcode to his phone; otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to contact ’em. I pull the phone outta my bag, then press in the passcode to retrieve his messages. “Here, you listen to these messages and you tell me if you think da bitch did it.” I put the phone on speaker and let him listen to ’em. He writes on his notepad, then asks if he can have the phone for evidence. I tell the muhfucka no. Tell ’im that he can get it from Allstar’s attorney. I don’t know if the nigga has one or not, but that’s what I tell ’im.
“Okay, then. Do you have a number where I can reach you in case I have any more questions?” I give ’im my digits, then warn ’im to hurry up and get that bitch off the streets before I do. He looks at me like I’m crazy. “Ma’am, I ask that you not take matters into your own hands. We’ll find whoever did this.”
I raise my brow. “Be clear. There’s a nutty bitch still out there somewhere wit’ a gun. And ’er name is Ramona sumthin’. She’s already come up on my property twice. And you heard those messages she left on his phone and da one ’bout what she was gonna do to me. So, if you think I’ma sit ’round and wait for da po-po to track ’er ass down, you done banged ya head. So as far as I’m concerned, the bitch should be considered armed and dangerous, so work it out. Get that bitch off da streets. Or I will.”
I spin-off on his ass.
I speak. “Hi, Missus Maples.”
“Hello, baby,” she says, walkin’ up to me and givin’ me a hug. “Good to see you again. Thanks for callin’ me.” She points to Allstar’s twin. “Raynard, this is Alex’s friend, Katrina. The young lady I was telling you about. Katrina, this is Alex’s father.”
I smile at ’im. “Hi, Sir, it’s nice to meet you.”
He smiles back at me. “Ohhh, so you’re the young woman my son keeps talkin’ about.” He looks me up and down. Oh no this nasty muhfucka ain’t tryna get his eye-rovin’ on. “He wasn’t lying when he said you were a beauty, and sexy, too. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thanks,” I say, shiftin’ my weight from one foot to the otha. While Alex’s moms is talkin’ to the detective, I tell his father that he had to be rushed into surgery to try ’n stop the bleedin’. Tell ’im he was shot twice in the chest and once in the stomach. Tell ’im one of the bullets barely missed his heart.
“What’d he have to say?” Mr. Maples asks, pointin’ ova to the detective when she walks back ova to us.
“He said they’re gonna do everything they can to find that
I smirk, hearin’ ’er talk my kinda talk.
“Did you tell him about the restraining order?” Mr. Maples asks.
“Of course I did. But he already knew about it.” I tell ’er I told him ’bout it. She takes a deep breath, shakes ’er head, then starts spazzin’. “I knew some shit like this was gonna happen,” she says, wipin’ tears. “I knew one day I would be gettin’ this call. He’s so fuckin’ hard-headed. I told his ass time and time again that him and that fat, black dick of his was gonna get his sex-crazed ass in some deep shit. I told his ass he can’t keep fuckin’ over these women and not expect one of them to snap.”
“Alice, not now,” Mr. Maples says, pullin’ ’er into his arms. “No need in goin’ off about something that has already happened. We need to concentrate on what’s going on right now. The most important thing is that he makes it through this.”
“I told him to tell you what was going on with that damn girl. But he’s just like his father, stubborn and thick-headed. I didn’t like that tramp from the moment she tried pinning a baby on him. I knew her ass was trouble.” She pauses, takes a deep breath. “He is my only child. And I know he has a lot of shit with him, but I tell you this…” She looks me dead in the eyes. “I will beat… that bitch’s…ass if he dies. I promise you that.”
I squeeze ’er hand, smilin’.
Alex’s pops comes back and tells us that he’s still in surgery. I watch as he nervously paces the floor. “Ray, won’t you come and have a seat,” Ms. Maples says.
“I’m fine,” he says, holdin’ his head in his hands.
She gets up and grabs his hand, pullin’ him ova to a chair next to ’er. “Sit,” she says, slippin’ ’er fingas through his. I can’t help but smile. If Allstar hadn’t told me that they were divorced, I woulda neva believed it.
Sittin’ here in this waitin’ room has me thinkin’ ’bout Zaire bein’ up in the hospital by himself. It has me thinkin’ that this—sittin’ here wit’ Alex’s fam, isn’t where I’m ’posed to be. I get up. Tell ’em I’m leavin’.
“Sweetheart, you sure?” his moms asks. I tell ’er I am more sure than eva. She tells me she knows Alex would want to see me when he comes outta surgery. I tell ’er I’m really not interested. Tell ’er that tonight’s episode was a bit too extra for me. And I’m exhausted and disgusted by it. She gets up and gives me a hug. “I understand.”
I decide to give it to ’er real like a real bitch should. “Missus Maples, no disrespect, but ya son got a buncha shit wit’ ’im. And I ain’t beat for that. This shit wit’ that chick is it for me. I didn’t sign up for this kinda craziness. And I ain’t tryna stick ’round to wait for anotha nutty-ass ho to come from outta da woodwork. I’m done.”
“I understand, trust me.” Mr. Maples watches and listens to us talk, but keeps his mouth shut. “Well, I’ma tell you this, and you do what you want wit’ it. My son has never expressed any kinda interest in a woman as he has with you. And the fact that he isn’t rippin’ and runnin’ the streets like he used to says a lot.” She looks ova at his pops. “Doesn’t it, Ray?”
“Yeah,” he says, tryna act like he isn’t ear-hustlin’. He chuckles. “You got that boy’s nose wide open. I never thought I’d see it happen.”
“You gotta do what feels right for you,” she says, givin’ me anotha hug. “But I’d really like to see the two of you together. I think you’re the kinda woman he needs in his life. So I hope you’ll give ’im another chance.”
I smile. “I can’t make you any promises.” I give ’er my cell number, and tell ’er to call me when he gets outta surgery. Then I reach into my bag and hand ’er his cell phone. I look ova at his pops. Tell ’im it was nice meetin’ ’im, then dip.
TWO DAYS LATER, I’M BACK UP AT THE HOSPITAL TO SEE ALLSTAR. His moms had called to tell me that he made it through surgery and was lucky to be alive. She said he was in and outta consciousness. I could tell she
