Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

“Anywhere we went da niggas always ended up pressin’ you. You always got all da attention.”

“And so did you.”

“Yeah, but not da way you did. Niggas saw you as the ultimate catch. Yeah, I was a dime. But they saw you as da fifty-cent piece. I used to really be feelin’ some kinda way when we’d be somewhere and muhfuckas would try’n holla at you—first, then me. Or when we’d be walkin’ into a spot, all eyes would be on you, then me. Sometimes I felt like I had’a compete wit’ you. Even though I know that’s not what it was. It was all in my head. Still, I loved you, but secretly hated you for bein’ so eff’n fly. So when B-Love kinda dismissed me for you, I was feelin’ some kinda way. But then I ran into da nigga a few weeks later and he told me on da sly that he wanted to get at me, too. That he’d run me his dick and lace me wit’ wears and paper and shit, but I’d neva be wifey. I wanted da wifey slot, Kat. But he made it clear that only you’d have that title.”

I grunt. “Mmmmph. So you let ya jealousy fu…eff up our relationship all ’cause ya schemin’-ass, hot pussy wanted what I had?”

She nods. “Kat, I was all effed up back then.” And ya slutty-ass probably still is, I think, starin’ at ’er. Zaire has fallen asleep. I get up from my seat, and take ’im from ’er, glancin’ ova at the microwave clock. It reads: 9:27 a.m.

“Listen, I ’preciate you comin’ through wit’ da gifts, and I ’preciate you keepin’ it real. But, it’s time for you ta bounce, boo. Zaire and I got things to do today.”

She gets up from ’er seat. “Yeah, I need to head back to Brooklyn, anyway. Thanks for lettin’ me see Zaire. He’s such a beautiful baby. I’m really surprised you are actually doin’ this.”

“Doin’ what?”

“Raisin’ ’im. You neva seemed like da type to wanna be tied down wit’ a baby. And we all know how much you hated ya moms.”

“True. And at first I wasn’t beat for ’im. But after seein’ ’im and holdin’ ’im in my arms, I had’a change’a heart. Besides, I didn’t want ya’ll asses to get ’im.”

She shakes ’er head, laughin’. “Of course you didn’t; that’s just you. But, it’s all good. He’s right where he needs to be—wit’ his big sista. I’m glad we had’a chance to talk. I hope we can do it again, soon. I know ya grandmotha and Elise would like to see Zaire, as well.”

I buck my eyes. “Listen, don’t push it. I let you up in here. But don’t get it twisted. I ain’t beat for no family reunion-type shit. I don’t want nuthin’ to do wit’ ya moms.” Kat, it ain’t always ’bout ya selfish- ass. “Not right now, anyway,” I add, shakin’ Chanel’s voice outta my head, again. “Listen, I don’t like you, Patrice. So we ain’t eva gonna be what we used to be. And I ain’t gonna be fake ’bout it. But, I’m not gonna keep you away from Zaire just because I got issues wit’ you.” I know she saw the FOR SALE sign out on the lawn when she pulled up, so she gotta know I’m bouncin’. But since she ain’t mention nuthin’ ’bout it, I ain’t offerin’ shit. The bitch’ll figure it out soon enough when all’a my numbers are changed, again. And there’s no forwardin’ address.

She smiles. “That’s all I ask.” She stares at me for a second, then says, “Kat, people can change. We may not eva get close again. But, hopefully, we can work on bein’ civil to each otha.”

“Sweetie, whateva happens it’s gonna be for da sake of Zaire. That’s it.”

She leans in to kiss Zaire on the cheek. “Thanks.”

“Oh, and—da next time you wanna come through, make sure you call, first. Don’t show up at my door ’cause if you do, you won’t get in.”

“Then you need to answer ya phone.”

Bitch, puhleeze. I swing open the door. “Goodbye Pa…” I stop in midsentence, surprised at who’s standin’ in front of me, preparin’ to ring the bell.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Nigga showin’ up outta da blue…seein’ his face…standin’ in my space…gotta bitch all twisted… nigga wanna make me see…his point’a view…tryna apologize…tryna make amends… bearin’ his soul…offerin’ up his love…tellin’ me shit he’s been dreamin’ of…askin’ me to let ’im love me….

He peeps Zaire sleepin’ in my arms, then blinks. “Whose baby is that?” I tell ’im mine. “Yours?” he asks, lookin’ puzzled. “How old is he?”

“What does it matter? He’s mine. And his name is Zaire.”

“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls or texts?”

“’Cause I’ve been avoidin’ you.”

He tilts his head, starin’ at Zaire, then me. I can tell he’s tryna figure shit out in his head. I let ’im think what he wants. “I thought you weren’t fuck—” I check his mouth; tell ’im not to curse in front of Zaire. “My bad. I mean, I thought you weren’t gettin’ it in wit’ anyone else. Is it that cat’s out there in Cali?”

I huff. “Geezus, nigga, what’s up wit’ da twenty damn questions? No, it ain’t his. And it ain’t yours. Now why you here?”

He reaches for me. “I came here for you.”

Fuck all this censorin’ shit! I step back. “Well, sorry to bust ya bubble. But, I ain’t here for you so you can bounce back to whereva you came from. Go find ya’self a bitch whose gonna trick ’er money up on ya ass. And run behind ya ass, beggin’ ’n cryin’ ’n shit. And shootin’ ya ass up when she can’t have you.”

“That’s not da kinda woman I want on my arm, or in my life. I want you.”

I shift Zaire from one arm to the otha. His lil’ ass is gettin’ heavy. “Well, you can’t have me. I don’t want da headache. So step.”

I try to shut the door in his face. “Hol’ up…” He puts his hand up and stops the door from shuttin’. “Yo, all I’m askin’ for is fifteen minutes. That’s all.” I glare at ’im. “Kat, look at me, ma. I’m fucked up here. I haven’t slept or ate in weeks. I ain’t da kinda muhfucka to ever beg a bit…a woman for shit. But, I’m askin’, beggin’ you, for fifteen minutes; that’s it. Is that too much for a muhfucka to ask for? Fifteen minutes for you to give me a chance to talk; and you to listen. And when I’m done, if you still ain’t beat, then I’ll bounce; real talk. I’ll walk outta this door and never bother you, again.”

I stare at this muhfucka; take the nigga in. His eyes are red and swollen. The nigga looks like he hasn’t slept in days. I feel the urge to slap the shit outta ’im for comin’ into a bitch’s life, pushin’ his way into my space. Forcin’ a bitch to feel shit she ain’t tryna feel.

I step back, pull open the door, and let ’im in. “Ten minutes, then you need to leave.” He brushes past me. I shut the door, then tell ’im to give me a minute take the baby upstairs to put ’im in his crib.

When I come back downstairs, he’s sittin’ on the sofa, holdin’ his head in his face. He lifts his head when he hears me. “Kat, listen to me, baby…”

I stand in the middle of the floor, fold my arms. “Nigga, don’t baby me. Hurry up ’n get to da point, so I can go back to doin’ what I was doin’.”

“Yo, why da fuck you so fuckin’ mean and evil? What did I ever do to you for you to treat me like shit?”

“You came into my life, disruptin’ my flow, nigga. That’s what you did. You brought drama to my muthafuckin’ door, nigga.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” he stands up, walkin’ ova to me. “I’m really sorry ’bout that.”

“Nigga, sorry don’t cut it. A bitch shot ya ass right in front of me. You knew that bitch was a Looney bin graduate and you still was fuckin’ wit’ da bitch on da sly.”

“Kat, I swear to you. I wasn’t fuckin’ wit’ that broad. I put that on e’erything I love. Straight lace, baby, I was only talkin’ to ’er ass, tryna keep da peace. Da bitch was talkin’ real reckless, so I tried to defuse da shit.”

I glare at ’im. “So you tellin’ me you was only talkin’ to da bitch on da phone?”

He shifts his eyes, shakin’ his head. “Nah, I saw ’er a few times. But it wasn’t nuthin’.”

“Besides ’er, who da fuck else was you seein’?”

“Kat, I wasn’t seein’ ’er da way you sayin’ it. I wasn’t seein’ anyone else. I told you, on some real shit, that I was really into you.”