The Kat Trap

through and chill ’n shit. The bitch had ya dick on her breath, and ya nut on her tongue. Yeah, that ho-ass bitch got a beatdown comin’. I don’t give a fuck how long ago it was. And that’s on e’rything I love. And you know what, I ain’t tellin’ that bitch shit. I hope they run up on her ass, and the nigga shits all over her, real talk.”

The nigga started repeatin’ himself, tryna explain how he had been fuckin’ with Iris off and on before I stepped on the scene, but it was on some DL-type shit. He claimed he was just fuckin’ her and lacin’ her with a few dollars e’ery now and then, but wasn’t tryna wife her ass ’cause he already knew she was hot in the ass, and was fuckin’ ’n suckin’ e’erything movin’. He was just lettin’ her wet his dick whenever he felt like trickin’. I listened to his ass go on and on until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You black, muthafuckin’, retarded-ass piece of shit, you already said all this.” I called this nigga e’ery fucked-up name in the book, just straight disrespected his ass. And the nigga didn’t say shit. He just kept his mouth shut and let me go off. Then, when I finally stopped blackin’, he had the muthafuckin’ nerve to ask me if I was all right. Am I all right?

“Yeah, nigga, I’m all right. I’ma always be all right. Believe that. That fact that you was playin’ me with this bitch is one thing, and the fact that this ho was all up in my face frontin’ like we was girls ’n shit is another. But on some real shit, I’m more pissed that you never once said shit to me ’bout you fuckin’ this bitch before you got with me when you knew I was cool with her ass.”

“I wanted to tell you, but she wanted to keep the shit on the low. It wasn’t really nothin’ major anyway,” he said, tryna make light of the shit.

“Oh, fuckin’ really? Then answer me this: why is it you made sure I knew ’bout all the other bitches you were smashin’ ’cept her ass, hunh, nigga? Why was that? She tells you not to say anything and you ride with that shit. Why? Was you fuckin’ that bitch raw?”

He was silent.

“You know what, nigga, forget it. Don’t even bother answerin’ that ’cause it’s not like you still my man, so really, the shit’s not that serious to me. However, I’ma still rock that bitch when I see her for tryna clown me all these years.”

“See, here you go,” he said, suckin’ his teeth. “Kat, that shit is dead. Besides, ain’t like you and me still fuckin’. You dumped a muhfucka, remember?”

“Yeah, nigga, I remember. And? That ain’t got shit to do with the fact that you was fuckin’ her while fuckin’ me; that’s all I need to know. Ain’t shit dead until I beat her ass the fuck down, then you can talk to me ’bout shit bein’ dead. And you lucky ya ass is behind the wall ’cause I’d get at ya ass, too, nigga. If I woulda known this shit from gate, I woulda never fucked with ya monkey ass.”

He laughed. “Oh, shit. Why I gotta be a ‘monkey ass’?”

“’Cause that’s what the fuck you are. Now, do me a favor and don’t call my fuckin’ house no goddamn more.”

“Yo, I know you hot right now, but you don’t mean that shit. I know you still got love for me.”

“Nigga, you don’t really know me then.” I hung up, then called Iris’s ass. Her phone went straight into voicemail, but I couldn’t leave a message ’cause her box was full. I called Chanel.

“Hey, Kat,” she said, soundin’ all cheery ’n shit.

“You talk to that bitch Iris yet?”

“Nah, no one has still seen or heard from her ass. Why, what’s wrong?”

“Ain’t shit wrong; let that bitch know I’m straight rockin’ her fuckin’ grill in when I see her, so her best bet is to stay far the fuck away from me.”

“Bitch, what is you talkin’ ’bout? What the fuck done happened?”

“Chanel, I’ma ask you somethin’ and I want it raw.”

“Aiight, you got that. You know I’ma always be real with mine.”

“I hope so, ’cause if you not…” I paused, sighin’. Chanel was my fuckin’ girl, but I knew if the bitch knew ’bout this shit all along, I was gonna have to cut her ass off for real. And I might end up goin’ in her mouth for keepin’ the shit from me. I took a deep breath. “Did you know Iris was fuckin’ Naheem while we were dealin’ with each other?” I asked, holdin’ my breath.

“What? When?” she asked, soundin’ surprised. But I still wasn’t convinced. “Kat, ain’t no way Iris would go there. I mean, I know she could be messy, but she knows how we roll. And if she woulda told me some shit like that you know I woulda checked her ass, then put you on. Fuck that. You my muhfuckin’ people, and that shit ain’t cool, Kat.”

Okay, maybe she didn’t know, but I bet that bitch Tamia did. Those trick bitches were two peas in a pod. They always knew who was fuckin’ and suckin’ who. Hell, them bitches done tag-teamed plenty of niggas together, so yeah, Tamia’s ass knew.

“Yes, the bitch would. And she did.” I told her about the phone call from Naheem and how it had me lookin’ at shit sideways.

“Damn. That’s some real foul shit. Kat, on e’ery thing I love, I had no idea. She never told me shit ’bout fuckin’ him.”

“Chanel, I promise you, I’ma wear that bitch out when I see her.”

“Oh, well,” she said, sighin’. “That’s my girl ’n all, but she brought that shit on herself. So she’s gonna have to wear that ass whippin’.”

“You know what, do me a favor. Forget we even had this conversation.”

“Hunh?”

“Don’t tell that ho shit when you talk to her ass. Let the bitch think e’erything’s e’erything, like shit’s all sweet.”

Like I told ya’ll before, I like to always let a bitch know what it is, so she can be ready to rock when she sees me comin’. But since that bitch wanted to be on some slick shit, fuckin’ my man right up under my nose, then I was gonna catch her ass off guard and drop her ass. As far as I’m concerned, if the bitch grinned up in my face after ridin’ my man’s dick, then I had to wonder what else her messy ass did while smilin’ up in my face. Then again, what the fuck did I expect? This is the same bitch who fucked her own stepfather and her sister’s man when we were in high school. So, no…this dirty bitch fuckin’ Naheem ain’t really no damn surprise.

“You got that,” Chanel said.

“Aiight,” I said, glancin’ over at the digital clock on the microwave. It was almost five o’clock and I hadn’t done shit all day. I needed to do laundry and still hadn’t packed for my trip to Vegas. “Listen, I’m out. I got shit to do. I’ma get at ya later.”

“Well, fuck you too, ho,” she said, laughin’. “Holla back.”

“Love you, too, slut,” I said before hangin’ up.

I went down into the laundry room, tossed a load of clothes in the washer, then took my ass upstairs to pack. When I was finished, I turned on my stereo and pressed the remote button for CD. DMX’s “X Gone Give It to Ya” came on. I lit a blunt, flopped back onto my bed, then slid my right hand inside my pink lace panties and played in my curly, triangled patch of hair, slowly brushin’ my hand over my clit, then along the openin’ of my pussy. I needed a good fuck to take the edge off, ’cause a bitch’s nerves were truly rattled. And fuckin’ myself was not gonna do it —not tonight. Ugh! I removed my hand and played with my right nipple until it hardened. I continued to puff on my blunt, pinchin’ and tweakin’ my nipple until my blunt was almost down to a roach, then jumped up off the bed. “Fuck!” I said out loud as I headed toward the bathroom. “I need some fuckin’ dick in my life.” Although I coulda called Grant’s ass to come through and dig this hole out, I really wasn’t beat for him, not at that moment. Besides, I didn’t wanna give the nigga too much pussy too soon ’cause then a muhfucka starts buggin’.

I went back downstairs to the laundry room, put the load of clothes into the dryer, then went back upstairs to take my shower. Twenty minutes later, I climbed in bed with thoughts of ridin’ a long, black dick before I drifted off to sleep.

At two-fifteen the next day, I had arrived in Vegas, checked into Bally’s, received my travel package, and was now standin’ in the elevator on my way up to the seventh floor to my hotel room. My cell phone started ringin’. It was Grant.

“Hello?”

“Yo, what’s good, baby?”

“You,” I said, smilin’.

“Oh word? You been thinkin’ ’bout me?”