"Nigga, ain't nobody checking for that little dick you got over there. Hurry the fuck up."
When he picked up his keys, he tried to grab the small amount of drugs they had left and my moms smacked his hand. "I paid for this shit. Get yo' hands off my drugs."
"Listen, we ain't `bout to have no crack head fight up in here. Take that shit, Pookie, and get the fuck up outta here."
"My name ain't Pookie. It's Leroy."
"Whateva, nigga, just go." When I turned my head for a minute making sure Leroy was gone and then locked the door, my moms tried to disappear into the bathroom. I went back there and started banging on the door. "Yo, I want to speak to you."
"Precious, damn. I'm shittin'. Give me a minute." Fifteen minutes later, my moms came strolling out of the bathroom like nothing happened.
"You a grown woman and can do whateva you like, but not on my dime. You're bringing any ole type of dirty mggas in here fucking them wit' no condom or nothin'. Are you tryna die of AIDS?"
"Just because you give me money, I'm still yo' mother, and you don't tell me what to do," she said, opening up the refrigerator and pulling out a beer.
"I tell you what then, how `bout I don't give you no mo' money, and you do whateva the fuck you like."
"Precious, you know I need that money. You my only source of income."
"Then act like it. I would prefer if you'd check yourself in some sort of rehab, which I would gladly pay for, but if not, keep them dirty niggas outta here. You neva know. They might flip out on you one day and kill yo' ass. I know one day I'm gonna have to bury you, but I would hate for it to be over some shit like that."
"You neva know, Precious. I might have to bury you first." Something about the way my moms said that sent chills up my spine.
"Just do what I ask. Here, take this." I pulled out a wad of cash and counted out fifteen hundred dollars. I knew she would probably smoke it up in less than a week, but somewhere inside of me I wished my mother would get straight. Every time I looked into her beautiful green eyes, I saw hope.
When I got in the car, I called Nico again, and this time he picked up the phone. "What's up, baby? Where you at?"
"Just in these streets handling business."
"Oh, I called you earlier and your phone went straight to voice mail."
"I don't know what that was about. Where you at?" He tried to change the subject.
"I just left my moms' crib. She was in there wit' some grimy nigga. I so wish she'd get off those damn drugs and get her life together."
"Baby girl, once a junkie always a junkie."
I knew the odds of what Nico was saying was true, but the fact that he said it bothered me. I was looking for a sympathetic ear, not a self righteous point of view.
"Have you talked to Ritchie?" I said, now wanting to change the subject.
"For a minute-why?"
"Inga said they supposed to go on another date tonight. Maybe you was right about them feeling each other."
"Oh, that's alright. I'ma see him in a few, and I'll ask him."
"Don't make it seem like you spying for me, so I can go back and tell Inga."
"I'm not. I know how to handle my man."
"So what time are you gon' be home tonight?"
"Probably late. I got mad shit to do. But I'll call you later."
My stomach was getting that queasy feeling which wasn't a good sign. The little bitch that's your conscience, who taps you on the shoulder when something is up, was doing a motherfucking tap dance on my shit. The message was clear: Nico was definitely creeping.
Although my instincts were screaming that at me, I needed some confirmation. I also wanted to find out the best way to handle it. The only person I trusted to discuss my suspicions with and who could give me sound advice was my main man, Boogie. I put my car in drive and headed to the detailing shop.
When I arrived, Boogie was in front checking out a customer's new Lamborghini, but he would have to continue that another time.
"Excuse me. I need to borrow Boogie for a minute," I said to the old-ass
When he picked up his keys, he tried to grab the small amount of drugs they had left and my moms smacked his hand. "I paid for this shit. Get yo' hands off my drugs."
"Listen, we ain't `bout to have no crack head fight up in here. Take that shit, Pookie, and get the fuck up outta here."
"My name ain't Pookie. It's Leroy."
"Whateva, nigga, just go." When I turned my head for a minute making sure Leroy was gone and then locked the door, my moms tried to disappear into the bathroom. I went back there and started banging on the door. "Yo, I want to speak to you."
"Precious, damn. I'm shittin'. Give me a minute." Fifteen minutes later, my moms came strolling out of the bathroom like nothing happened.
"You a grown woman and can do whateva you like, but not on my dime. You're bringing any ole type of dirty mggas in here fucking them wit' no condom or nothin'. Are you tryna die of AIDS?"
"Just because you give me money, I'm still yo' mother, and you don't tell me what to do," she said, opening up the refrigerator and pulling out a beer.
"I tell you what then, how `bout I don't give you no mo' money, and you do whateva the fuck you like."
"Precious, you know I need that money. You my only source of income."
"Then act like it. I would prefer if you'd check yourself in some sort of rehab, which I would gladly pay for, but if not, keep them dirty niggas outta here. You neva know. They might flip out on you one day and kill yo' ass. I know one day I'm gonna have to bury you, but I would hate for it to be over some shit like that."
"You neva know, Precious. I might have to bury you first." Something about the way my moms said that sent chills up my spine.
"Just do what I ask. Here, take this." I pulled out a wad of cash and counted out fifteen hundred dollars. I knew she would probably smoke it up in less than a week, but somewhere inside of me I wished my mother would get straight. Every time I looked into her beautiful green eyes, I saw hope.
When I got in the car, I called Nico again, and this time he picked up the phone. "What's up, baby? Where you at?"
"Just in these streets handling business."
"Oh, I called you earlier and your phone went straight to voice mail."
"I don't know what that was about. Where you at?" He tried to change the subject.
"I just left my moms' crib. She was in there wit' some grimy nigga. I so wish she'd get off those damn drugs and get her life together."
"Baby girl, once a junkie always a junkie."
I knew the odds of what Nico was saying was true, but the fact that he said it bothered me. I was looking for a sympathetic ear, not a self righteous point of view.
"Have you talked to Ritchie?" I said, now wanting to change the subject.
"For a minute-why?"
"Inga said they supposed to go on another date tonight. Maybe you was right about them feeling each other."
"Oh, that's alright. I'ma see him in a few, and I'll ask him."
"Don't make it seem like you spying for me, so I can go back and tell Inga."
"I'm not. I know how to handle my man."
"So what time are you gon' be home tonight?"
"Probably late. I got mad shit to do. But I'll call you later."
My stomach was getting that queasy feeling which wasn't a good sign. The little bitch that's your conscience, who taps you on the shoulder when something is up, was doing a motherfucking tap dance on my shit. The message was clear: Nico was definitely creeping.
Although my instincts were screaming that at me, I needed some confirmation. I also wanted to find out the best way to handle it. The only person I trusted to discuss my suspicions with and who could give me sound advice was my main man, Boogie. I put my car in drive and headed to the detailing shop.
When I arrived, Boogie was in front checking out a customer's new Lamborghini, but he would have to continue that another time.
"Excuse me. I need to borrow Boogie for a minute," I said to the old-ass
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