The Kat Trap

how they would come at me. I wondered if they’d wait until the next family gatherin’ and set it off. Would one of ’em try ’n trick me into comin’ over to their spot, while the rest of ’em hid in closets, then when my back was turned jump out and start swingin’ off? Would they corner me, then pull out razors and start slashin’ me up? I decided to keep my heat packed in my bag just in case.

“That’s real fucked up,” Chanel said.

“Oh well. It is what it is. I’m not pressed, trust. So, what shit Tamia done got herself in now?” I asked, changin’ the subject. I really wasn’t feelin’ any of her drama, but I didn’t wanna talk anymore ’bout my fucked-up mother or her crazy-assed sisters either.

“Some chick stepped to her about some nigga when she was downtown last week and threatened to whoop her ass the next time she called her man’s cell…” Okay, this is where I started zonin’ out. I was so sick of these bitches fightin’ and arguin’ over their half-assed niggas. I had no interest in entertainin’ this shit. Been there, done that. And I had no desire to ever have to whoop another bitch’s ass over a piece of dick. I swore after bangin’ Patrice’s face up that I’d never go there again. And I meant it.

About a year after I bounced on Naheem, I started fuckin’ with this nigga who everybody called B-Love ’cause he was from Bed-Stuy and got mad love from the streets for stayin’ on his grind. The nigga was pushin’ bricks and keys and had shops set up in different sections of his hood as well as in other sections of BK. He was the type of cat who knew how to get money and didn’t give a fuck ’bout rollin’ up his sleeves, puttin’ in work and gettin’ dirty. He didn’t fuck with lightweight niggas. If you wanted him to build with ya ass, you had better come at him with some major paper and be talkin’ ’bout makin’ major moves, otherwise you’d either get laughed at or get ya wig pushed back for tryna waste his time. And he didn’t slouch when it came to takin’ what he wanted, includin’ pussy.

He was six foot two, brown-skinned, well built, and had beautiful brown eyes that sparkled whenever he smiled or laughed. The nigga stayed rockin’ a fresh, low fade cut with spinnin’ waves, crisp sideburns, and a neatly trimmed mustache. Yeah, the nigga was finer than a muhfucka, with a big, long, thick, juicy dick that he knew how to use all night long. But the nigga was ruthless and didn’t give a fuck who he pissed on. It was his arrogance and aggressive nature, along with his persistence, that made my pussy nut in my panties every time he looked at me.

With Naheem on lock and the money train runnin’ low, a bitch had to get back on her grind, so I went back to boostin’ to keep my shit right and keep a few dollars in my pockets at the same time. There was no way I was ever gonna pawn or sell all the jewels ’n shit Naheem had laced me with. I was still lampin’ in his spot over in Crown Heights, but that shit was gonna fold in another two months. I didn’t wanna go back to the projects and have to be up under my moms again. A bitch was feelin’ real pressed ’bout her situation. So when Patrice and I walked up into this Jamaican spot on Atlantic Avenue, I spotted the nigga, B-Love, sitting in a corner booth with two other niggas, checkin’ me out in my fly wears as we approached the counter to place our orders. I knew then I had hit the jackpot. But Patrice was already tryna get her digs in. The bitch was salivatin’, tryna get her shine on. So I played it cute, stepped aside and let her bounce her ass around, click-clackin’ and poppin’ her gum like a real hoodrat.

“You see that nigga right there,” she had whispered. I glanced his way. “That nigga is getting paid out the ass. And word is he got a dick like a horse.”

I shrugged like I wasn’t fazed. But I already knew who he was and had heard how he was movin’. Naheem would mention his name and talk about how he wanted to cut into his pockets by takin’ over some of his spots. Besides, I had bumped into him several times at a few VIP parties, and once down in AC. He’d always have some cute chick on his arm, but the bitch wasn’t no real winner like me. And I was always on Naheem’s arm, and he loved showin’ his hood beauty off. So when B-Love kept starin’ at me instead of Patrice, I knew he knew I was that bitch, so I gave him somethin’ to look at. I slowly twisted my body a taste so he could get a clear view of how my jeans wrapped around my apple-bottom ass like a glove.

“Okay,” I said, frownin’, “And?”

“And I’m tryna ride that shit and run his pockets.”

I rolled my eyes. I doubt it, ho, I thought, cuttin’ my eye over at him, but if you say so. The nigga winked at me, then blew a kiss. I rolled my eyes again, this time at him. He said somethin’ to his boys, then I heard him start laughin’. His boys looked over at us, grinnin’.

Patrice peeped them lookin’ over at us and got all agitated ’n shit. “What the fuck they laughin’ at?” she asked, gettin’ ready to turn it up.

I shrugged. “Girl, ignore them niggas. It ain’t that serious. They want some attention. Somethin’ a bitch like me don’t give.”

She sucked her teeth. “Yeah, right.”

I rolled my eyes, but let the bitch’s remark slide.

When our orders came, we paid for our food, then found a table three tables away from them. Patrice’s dick- thirsty ass made sure she posted her ass in the seat directly across from him so that everytime he looked up, he’d see her face. But he was too busy tryna clock me on the sly and Patrice knew it, but she kept on tryna shine. Patrice mighta been older than me, but the bitch didn’t really know shit ’bout a nigga like B-Love. A nigga like him wasn’t gonna openly fuck with no busybody bitch who needed and wanted attention. A real nigga recognized a gold-diggin’ bitch a mile away. Yeah, he’d fuck her, but a bitch like that would bore him to death. She’d be another one of his jump-offs who he laced with shit, but he wasn’t gonna put no cash in her hands. Uh-uh. What a nigga like him wanted was a top-of-the-line, classy bitch who knew how to be a lady in public and a freak behind closed doors. A bitch who didn’t have to open her mouth to get noticed. When she walked into a room, her beauty spoke for itself, and her presence commanded attention. She didn’t have to go lookin’ for it. Yeah, Patrice rocked the fly wears and was a beauty, but she wasn’t that bitch. She was fuckable, but she wasn’t gonna be wifey to a nigga like B-Love. I knew it and B-Love knew it…it’s just too bad Patrice’s ass didn’t know it.

After he and his boys finished eatin’, they got up from their table and walked past us. I could feel the nigga burnin’ a hole in my face, but I igged him. “How you beautiful ladies doin’?” he asked. “Ya’ll sisters or something?” Although he was talkin’ to both of us, he had his eyes on me. I looked up and stared at him, givin’ him a fake half- smile. He was dipped in ice and chunky jewels, but I wasn’t pressed. Well, I was…but he didn’t know it. Patrice spoke.

“No, baby, I’m her aunt. And I can’t speak for her, but I’m doin’ lovely. Thought you knew. What’s good with you, big daddy? How can a chick like me chill with a fine nigga like you?” Oh, this bitch was really reachin’. I picked at my food, unimpressed, while she tried to get her ho on.

He smiled. “Oh, word. I heard that.”

“You got a girl?”

“Nah, baby. I’m just fuckin’. Why, you tryna get it in?”

“That depends,” she said, soundin’ like a real pigeon. I grinned on the sly. He was baitin’ her ass and she was playin’ right into it.

“Oh, on what?”

“On how you treat a bitch like me.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely.”

I faked a yawn.

“What’s good with ya peoples?” he asked her, eyein’ me. Patrice cut her eyes at me, then rolled ’em, like I gave a fuck. She shrugged her shoulders. He spoke directly to me. “What’s up with you, baby girl? Cat got ya tongue?”

I looked up at him, real slow ’n sexy-like. “I’m eatin’,” I said, slowly slidin’ my fork in my mouth, then pullin’ it out, “and I ain’t beat for no convo.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I like that. A pretty chick who knows how to keep her mouth shut.” I tilted my head and was gettin’ ready to blast his ass but he spoke up before I could get started. “No disrespect, feel me? I’m just sayin’—”

“No, nigga, I don’t feel you, and I don’t know what you sayin’. I speak when I wanna speak, and to whoever I wanna speak to. Don’t get it twisted. I ain’t no nigga’s puppet.”

He burst out laughin’. “You feisty and fine. Yeah, I like that.”

I got up to go to the bathroom, suckin’ my teeth. “Whatever, nigga.”

When I got back from the bathroom, he was gone. And Patrice was hot. I ain’t gonna front, I was hopin’ he was gonna still be there, but I knew enough to know that a nigga like him wasn’t gonna be waitin’ too long; not yet