The Kat Trap

Rosa and Patrice, ya’ll can run up to that hospital all ya want, but I ain’t the one.”

“So let me get this right,” she said. I could tell she was clenchin’ her teeth. “You mean to tell me that you are turnin’ ya fuckin’ back on your own mother. Is that what the fuck you’re tellin’ me, huh, Kat?”

“Basically, that’s exactly what I’m tellin’ you.”

“How the fuck you gonna turn ya back on her? That’s your mother; she’s ya blood.”

“The same way she turned hers on me,” I responded. “Now, I’d love to continue this conversation, but I have more important things to do. So you take care of ya’self, Aunt Elise.”

“Kat—”

“Love you, but I gotta go,” I said, cuttin’ her off, then hangin’ up on her ass. Now, trust, if I still lived in Brooklyn them crazy bitches would already be camped outside tryna get it in with me. I shook my head. “I swear I hope they don’t try it on my time,” I said out loud.

When the phone rang again, I rolled my eyes. I knew it was her callin’ back to bring it, but when I looked at the caller ID this time, it was Naheem callin’ from prison. Oh, no, not today, nigga, I thought. You betta call that bird you got suckin’ ya dick ’cause I ain’t the one. This nigga had been blowin’ my shit up for the last three weeks tryna get at me. I started to pick up to curse his ass the hell out for constantly callin’ like he was my man or some shit. I done told the nigga it ain’t that type of party, and to stop tryna burn my damn phone lines up. Yet the muhfucka still thinks ’cause we was fuckin’ that I should accept his collects anytime he calls. Humph. Muthafuckas kill me.

Anyway, for the rest of the day I layided around, got lifted, listened to some beats, watched a few flicks, ate, and played in my pussy. Before I knew it, I was knocked the fuck out.

At like four in the afternoon, all my phones started ringin’ at the same time. First it was both cell phones, then the house line. I jumped up, all groggy ’n shit, rubbin’ my eyes. I had to look around to see where the hell I was. I reached over and grabbed the cordless off the coffee table, then looked at the caller ID. It was Naheem callin’ again. I tsked, answerin’, “Yeah?”

I got up off the sofa to get my cell phones from the bar while the automated voice went through its bullshit recordin’. Cash had left a message on the Kat line. Grant and Chanel had called on my other line.

“What’s good, ma?” Naheem finally said over the noise in the background. “Where you been? I’ve been tryna get at you for a minute.”

Who the fuck this nigga think he checkin’ for? “Nigga, you got the wrong number. I don’t answer to you. Now why the fuck you callin’ here?”

“Oh word, it’s like that?”

“Yeah, nigga, it’s like that. What the fuck! You called here earlier today, and now here you are callin’ again. What the fuck ya ass got to say to me that’s so important that you gotta call here back to back like we still fuckin’?”

“Yo, chill ma,” he said, keepin’ his voice calm. “Why you snappin’ on a nigga?”

“’Cause ya black ass keep callin’ here like you hooked on retarded or some shit, that’s why.”

“Damn, baby, I ain’t tryna beef with you. We ain’t talked in a minute—”

“Nigga, what the hell you mean ‘we ain’t talked in a minute’? I spoke to ya ass a month or so ago. And ain’t shit changed since then.”

“Listen,” he said, sighin’. “I wanted to hit you up to see what was good with you. It ain’t that serious. If you didn’t wanna talk, you shouldn’t had picked up.”

Ohmyfuckin’God, I was ready to bring it to this nigga. But, I let ’im live ’cause I already knew, first thing in the mornin’, I was havin’ my fuckin’ number changed. Between his nutty ass and my crazy-ass family, I was done. “Naheem, you know what? You right. I shoulda let the shit go into voicemail. But I didn’t. Now, what the fuck you want?”

“Yo, is ya peeps still pushin’ them thangs?”

I frowned. “Nigga, is you fuckin’ serious?! You actually callin’ here to ask me some dumb shit like that?”

He blew into the phone. “Yo, hold the fuck up, Kat, real talk. I’ve been lettin’ you come out ya neck all greasy ’n shit, but on some real shit. Don’t get it twisted. Just ’cause a nigga’s on lock don’t mean I can’t still get at that ass if I want. Now, I’m only askin’ ’cause if the bitch is still ridin’ the train, you need to tell her to get the fuck off and lay low. Shit’s hot; for real, for real.”

Why the fuck is this nigga callin’ me with this shit? And why the fuck is he so concerned about what the fuck Iris is doin’? Why the fuck he keepin’ tabs on her ass? This nigga actin’ like he’s been fuckin’ this bitch. This is the shit I started thinkin’ in my head. Then all of a sudden I started thinkin’ back to when he was out on the bricks and how Iris was always grinnin’ in his face or comin’ over to our spot prancin’ her ass ’n titties all up in Naheem’s face. Back then, I didn’t really pay the shit no mind ’cause he never gave me a reason to doubt his ass. But now…hmmm, a bitch gotta wonder what was really good with the two of them. Okay, now a bitch’s temper is ’bout to kick in. If that bitch fucked him while I was with him, I was gonna run straight in her mouth. Fuck the fact that I deaded the shit between him and me years ago. The fact that the bitch was all up in my face, knowin’ she had fucked him was just cause to take her face off, real talk. As far as I’m concerned, if a bitch in ya circle fucks ya man, then the ho done broke a cardinal rule. And her ass gotta be handled.

“Naheem, why the fuck you care?”

“I don’t,” he shot back. “I know that’s ya girl ’n shit.”

“Nah, muhfucka…wrong answer,” I said. “Come again, nigga. Ain’t no fuckin’ way you callin’ me with this shit ’cause she’s my damn girl. Who the hell you think you talkin’ to? You ain’t checkin’ for no-muthafuckin’-body unless you gonna benefit. So either somethin’s in it for you, or you done fucked the bitch. So which is it?”

He got quiet.

“Naheem?” I shouted.

“What?”

“I asked you a question, nigga. That’s what.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Nigga, don’t fuckin’ play me. You heard what the fuck I said. Now, did you fuck Iris or not? And be real with it.”

He sucked his teeth. “Here you go with this shit.”

“Here I go with what shit, Naheem? If you a real nigga like you say you are, then keep shit funky and be real with yours. Did you fuck the bitch or not?”

“Uh, listen,” he said, lowerin’ his voice.

“‘Uh, listen,’ what, nigga?” I said, clenchin’ my teeth. “Speak up. I can’t hear you.”

“C’mon, Kat, let’s not do this.”

“Nah, nigga, don’t give me that ‘let’s not do this’ shit. You callin’ here, burnin’ my fuckin’ jack, askin’ me ’bout some other bitch all concerned ’n shit like you got it in with her. You need to tell me what’s really good, muhfucka, and you need to do it right now. So I’ma ask you again—was you fuckin’ her?”

“Yeah,” he said.

I felt blood rush to my head. I sat down.

“But—”

“‘But’ hell,” I snapped. “So, you fucked her while we were fuckin’?” I asked, but I said it like I already figured the shit out.

“Only a few times,” he said. “But it was when you and me first started dealin’ with each other, and then I deaded it.”

“How many months before you ended the shit?”

“Like four or five. But she was only suckin’ my dick ’n shit. Hell, she was dustin’ the whole block off.”

“And that’s supposed to make the shit better? Nigga, do you know I’ma fuck her up when I see her? You do know this, right?”

“Kat, c’mon, don’t go there.”

“Don’t go there, hell. I’m already there. I’ma take that bitch’s face off.”

“I already told you I was fuckin’ her way before I caught feelin’s for you. Once I fell for you, I cut her ass off.”

“Yeah, but the bitch was still prancin’ her ass all up in ya face, and smilin’ the fuck up in mine. And the bitch was probably laughin’ behind my back, too. And you didn’t say shit. Now I see why she was always tryna come