Thirty minutes later we were sittin’ at the table eatin’ our food, drinkin’ and smokin’ mad trees. My phone kept ringin’ off the hook, and I kept iggin’ the shit.
Chanel set her fork down and eyed me. “Kat, you—”
“Don’t,” I warned, liftin’ my index finga to stop her.
She raised her hands up. “Okay, you got that.” She picked up her fork and started eatin’ again. In between her forkfuls of shrimp, she asked, changin’ the subject, “What’s good with you and that fine nigga Grant?”
I eyed this bitch, but kept it cute. “We been talkin’,” I offered, slowly slidin’ a forkful of vegetable lo mein into my mouth. I chewed, then swallowed. “We actually went out a few times.”
“When?” she asked, surprised. “And why am I just now hearin’ ’bout it?”
“A few weeks now,” I told her, tryna front like it was no biggie. “I didn’t say shit ’cause there ain’t shit to say. We kicked it a few times, and we’ll see what happens.”
“Please tell me you gave the nigga some pussy.”
“And why would I do that?”
She popped her eyes open, and bobbed her neck back ’n forth, makin’ suckin’ sounds with her lips. “Uh, duh, ’cause ya ass ain’t tasted dick since dick tasted you.”
I laughed. “You’re a fuckin’ nut.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, laughin’. “Somethin’ ya ass needs.” She looked at me, tiltin’ her head, then raisin’ her eyebrow. “So you went out a few times with dude, and you didn’t even grind up on the nigga.”
“Nope,” I lied. “Not yet.”
“So you don’t even know if the nigga’s packin’?”
I shook my head, shiftin’ my eyes ’round the room, then started rollin’ another blunt. On some real shit, I don’t know why I felt like I had to lie to her, but I didn’t feel like discussin’ his dick game with her, which is what the bitch would be askin’ next if I told her the truth. We always had a rule that if we were diggin’ a nigga we’d never ask the other ’bout his dick skills, but the way her hot ass was checkin’ for him at the club, I would have to watch her real close if I did decided to fuck with him. Girls or not, a bitch’s pussy tended to think for itself when it came to fuckin’ someone else’s man. Fuck what ya heard. A bitch in heat has no conscience. I sparked another blunt, took two pulls, then handed it to her.
“I ain’t on his dick like that,” I answered.
“Hmm…well, speakin’ of dick,” she said, takin’ a pull of the blunt. “Oh, fuck…”
“Bitch, will you shut ya fiend-ass up, and tell me what the fuck you was gettin’ ready to tell me.”
She took another toke from the blunt, then passed it back to me. “I fucked that fine nigga Coal.”
“Get. The. Fuck. Out! Bitch, you lyin’. When?”
She started gettin’ all amped ’n shit, tellin’ me how he called her a few days after she had slipped him her number at the 40/40 Club. She told him she wanted to fuck and he was down, but couldn’t get at her until his chick went outta town on business or some shit. And as soon as she did, he’d be ready to dig her guts out. I tilted my head and stared at her ass in disbelief.
“What? Why you lookin’ at me like that?”
“Un-fuckin’-believable,” I said, stickin’ a forkful of sesame chicken in my mouth. “I can’t believe you fucked him.”
“When have you ever known me to lie on some dick?”
“Never,” I admitted, grinnin’. I twirled my fork. “Go on…when and where did this illicit affair take place?”
“Two nights ago,” she said, dippin’ her spring roll in a plate of duck sauce, then takin’ a bite. “The nigga hit me up and told me to meet him at the Brooklyn Marriott, and that’s all she wrote. The nigga had the room for two days, and we fucked day and night. Girl, that muhfucka got an extra-thick, black dick, and can go the distance. Oh, my God, Kat, that nigga can fuck. It ain’t all that long, but when I tell you he knows how to use that shit, oh, my God. Humph. I can see how a bitch falls in love with a nigga’s dick. He fucked me so good, I started to shake.”
I laughed at her silly ass as she rapidly shook in her seat like she was havin’ a seizure or some shit.
She stopped. “Kat, that muthafucka almost had a bitch in tears.”
I shook my head, chucklin’ at the thought of Chanel’s ass boohooin’ while gettin’ dicked down. Now I’ve had my share of some good dick, but not any good enough to make a bitch break down cryin’.
“And where was Divine while you were out gettin’ ya pussy stretched?”
“In Miami doin’ him. You know if his ass is around ain’t no way I’ma be able to ride another nigga’s dick. Hell, that nigga would be tryna get some pussy as soon as I stepped back up in the house. And you know a bitch gotta give her pussy at least three days’ rest to snap back, feel me?”
I laughed. “You’se a damn fool.”
“Fuck that,” she said, handin’ me the blunt, “I might be a ho, but I ain’t a messy one. There’s three things I won’t do, and that’s let a nigga who ain’t my man go raw in me, let a nigga nut in my mouth, and fuck my man right after fuckin’ another nigga. That’s straight nasty and an absolute no-no, which is why I live by the three-day rule. So the only way I’m fuckin’ another muhfucka is when I know Divine’s ass is outta town and I got at least three days to regroup.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “And did the nigga hit you with some paper?”
“Nope,” she said. “That’s not what I wanted from his ass.”
I blinked, then blinked again. Now, I knew if the nigga was Cash’s nephew, then he was a get-money nigga. Ain’t no way Cash would have that nigga bummin’. Then again, if he fucked as good as she said he did, maybe his chick was lacin’ his ass. Nah, fuck that, that fine, black muhfucka had to be sittin’ on some ends. “Well, did you at least get a handbag or some heels outta his ass?”
“Nope,” she said, twistin’ her lips and frownin’ up her face. “That’s what I got Divine for.”
“So what happened to all that ‘I’ma be fuckin’ ya man and runnin’ his pockets before the end of summer’ shit?’”
“Oh, please,” she said, wavin’ me on with her hand, “he can keep whatever’s in his pockets. I ain’t beat.”
I stared at her ass. Now, either this bitch had changed her gold-diggin’ ways or that nigga Coal had literally fucked her brains inside out, ’cause the ho looked at me like I had snot and boogas hangin’ from outta my nose or some shit.
“Okay, so you’re sayin’ you wanted nothin’ from the nigga?”
“Not a damn thing. Just a ride on that sweet, black dick; that’s it.”
“Wait a minute, so you fucked this nigga, knowin’ he got a chick, just for the hell of it when you got a nigga who laces ya ass lovely?
“Yep,” she said, grinnin’. “And the nigga fucked me like the world was endin’.”
“Bitch, is you serious?”
“I sure am. Now, don’t get me wrong. Divine holds it down, and I dig him for it. But like I told you a while back, his dick game is real whack. Granted, the nigga can fuck nonstop if you let ’im. However, no matter how many times I try to teach him, he still insists on fuckin’ me like a damn bunny rabbit, and bustin’ off all quick. I’m sorry, but all that quick humpin’ and nuttin’ ain’t doin’ it for me. I don’t care how many times he can get it up. At the end of the day, I need a nigga who knows how to rock this pussy inside out.”
I rolled my eyes. I tell you, bitches ain’t ever fuckin’ satisfied. If they got a nigga who’s lacin’ they asses and treatin’ ’em right, it ain’t good enough. The bitch’ll still find somethin’ to complain ’bout. He can’t fuck, his dick ain’t big enough, he’s too fuckin’ borin’, he ain’t hood enough, he ain’t rough enough, blah, blah, blah. Give me a fuckin’ break!
“So you mean to tell me you’d risk losin’ a nigga who treats you right for some dick from a muhfucka who ain’t comin’ to the table with nothin’ but a hot nut and who ain’t ever gonna leave his chick for ya ass.”
She stared at me, then blinked. “Hell yeah,” she said, snatchin’ the blunt outta my hand, then puffin’. “I ain’t tryna marry the nigga. I fucked him for a tune-up. He stretched this pussy out, knocked the sides around, and now I’m good. If we hook up again, cool. If not, no biggie. I wanted to fuck ’im and I did. But a muhfucka who got a wifey ain’t someone I’m tryna check for.”
“So you sayin’ you don’t want ’im for ya’self?”
“Not hardly,” she said, twistin’ her lips up. “Why the fuck would I want that? That nigga ain’t shit for creepin’
