here in the middle of my kitchen floor.
When I’m done spittin’ my nut, I walk over to the kitchen sink and wash my hands. I take the paper towel I use to dry my hands and wipe up the floor, then toss it in the garbage.
“Good,” he says. “Where you been? I haven’t seen you in a while.”
“I’ve been kinda layin’ low, feel me?”
He chuckles. “Woman drama, hunh?”
“Never that. I don’t entertain that mess. Why you say that, though?”
“You haven’t been around, so I kinda figured that’s what it was. On top of the fact you got these gals coming here looking for you.”
“Man, them broads are crazy.”
“They’re only as crazy as you make ’em. And it looks like you done drove a few of ’em over the edge.”
“Man, they were already there. All I did was stop givin’ ’em their dose of dick.”
“Shit,” he says, laughin’. “And now they got you ducking ’em. There was a time I couldn’t get rid of you; now I hardly see you.”
I laugh. “Hey. You threw me out, remember?”
“Yeah, fool, but I didn’t tell ya ass to stop coming by.”
“You right, man.” He tells me ’bout Akina comin’ to the house twice lookin’ for me and how she apologized to him. “Yeah, she told me that.”
“That gal seems to really care about you.”
I huff, flippin’ my patties over. “Well, she had a fine way of showin’ it.”
“Look, son, you know I try to stay outta ya business. And you know I’m not gonna take sides, but she told me what happened. And she was hurt by what you did. I’m not sayin’ she was right for what she did, but you gotta take some of that blame, too. Ya’ll both were wrong.”
I bite my bottom lip. Think before I speak to keep from snappin’. “Yo, that shit’s over wit’, man. It is what it is. I ain’t beat for her. I told her to stop comin’ by there. Speakin’ of which, that nut Sherria hasn’t been by there, has she?”
“No. But that other gal has.”
“Who?”
“The one who claims you knocked her up.”
I suck my teeth, sighin’. “What’d you tell that nut?”
“I told her I’d let you know she was looking for you when I spoke to you, and for her to stop coming over here.”
I shake my head, thinkin’ I’m haveta take out a restrainin’ order on her ass, too. “Yo, that chick is real extra wit’ hers. Let me get off this phone. I’ma try to come through to check you out before I leave for Phoenix in a few days, aiight?”
“Phoenix? What’s out there?”
“All-Star Weekend,” I tell him, puttin’ my patties on a plate, then sittin’ at the counter. I dig in.
“Oh, that’s right. How long you gonna be out there?”
“’Bout a week.”
“Oh, aiight. Well, you be safe out there.”
“Always,” I tell him before endin’ the call. I scroll through my address book, then hit Ramona’s ass up. Her shit’s disconnected.
“Shit. Chillin’. What’s up with you?”
“Tryna fuck, baby. You feel like wettin’ this dick?”
“When?”
“Now,” I tell her, puffin’.
“You smokin’, nigga?”
“You already know.”
“I shoulda known, with ya fiend ass.”
“Yeah, aiight. I gotta fiend for that ass, aiight.”
“Then bring it on, nigga.”
“See you in an hour,” I say, laughin’. I finish up my blunt, then head upstairs to hit the shower. The minute I step under the showerhead, I hear Cherry’s voice.
39 
The 2009 All-Star Weekend in Phoenix is aiiight this year; nuthin’ major, like how it was in Vegas. I haven’t gone to an All-Star yet that compares to that one. Anyway, it is what it is. The weather’s great. The W in Scottsdale is tight. My room overlooks Camelback Mountain, and I dig the floor-to-ceilin’ windows. Last night I had them shits slid open to let that fresh desert air in while I was butt-ass naked underneath the comforter. I slept good as hell. I swear I didn’t wanna get up. All I needed was some pussy to knock down into the featherbed, and I woulda been good to go. But most of the bitches I’ve been seein’ here so far are fuckin’ mediocre! So when these muhfuckas woke me up this mornin’, talkin’ ’bout goin’ to the Phoenix Suns forward Amare Stoudemire’s All-Star Brunch, I wasn’t really feelin’ it.
For one, we didn’t get in ’til almost three in the mornin’ from the comedy show down at the Orpheum Theatre last night. That muthafuckin’ Joe Torry is funny as shit, word up. The rest of them comedian cats were aiight. Then we headed to the after-party down at club PHX. And that shit was whack! Yeah, I popped shit to a few broads up in there, and did a two-step here ’n there wit’ a few of ’em, but that was it. There wasn’t one bitch in that spot that made my dick jump, or that I would consider lettin’ gargle my balls. Hell, lickin’ my ass, for that matter. Maybe if they were comin’ up offa some paper, but to straight fuck, nah…none of them hoes were worthy of this cock ’n cum—for
Second, this brunch shit was from nine to eleven, which meant I had to get up early as hell. I’m like,
“Man, you look like shit,” I say, glancin’ at my watch. It’s eight-thirty. “Looks like you been up all night.”
“I have,” he says, stretchin’ out his six-four frame. “And I feel like shit, too.”
“Yeah, and you smell like it, too,” I joke.
He laughs. “Muhfucka, go ’head wit’ that.”
“What ya’ll niggas get into after I dipped?”
“I’m not sure what Gee’s drunk ass did. But Glenn and I ended up hittin’ the casino. Man, them slots weren’t doin’ shit. They were rapin’ muhfuckas.”
“Oh, word…what they get you for?”
“Like eight hunnid; somethin’ light. You know a muhfucka like me knows when to get the fuck up. But Glenn’s dumb ass let ’em drag his whole wallet, then the muhfucka gonna ask me to spot his ass.”
I shake my head. “Did you?”
“Yeah, I hit that nigga wit’ a couple of hunnid.”
I laugh. “What a loser.”
“I told that muhfucka I want my shit back, too.”
“Good luck. You know that nigga don’t like payin’ up.”
He shakes his head. “Nah, I ain’t tryna hear that shit, man. That’s my boy and all, but let ’im fuck around and
