Read Online The Girl of His Dreams by Amir Abrams - Free Book Online Page B

room—why he kept cheating on her. I was crying and pissed and all emotional because they were going through it, again . And you wanna know what he said to me? He said, “Because ya mom keeps lettin’ me. I don’t mean to hurt her. I love her. But I don’t think I love her enough to stop doin’ what I do. And as long as she keeps allowin’ me to do it, I ain’t gonna ever have a reason to wanna try ’n’ stop.”
    Ouch! As effed up as that was for him to say, to me —his daughter, I had to respect it because it was real. So, no. I’m not gonna respect her until she starts respecting herself. And instead of telling my aunt Linda this, I let her beat me in the head. But I was lookin’ at her kinda sideways, too, since she really isn’t no different from my mom when it comes to men. But I knew enough to stay in my lane. See. If I brought it to Aunt Linda like that, she’d jump up on my back and stomp me down. So, nope, I didn’t say a word. But I thought it. Then I walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Aunt Linda, I appreciate you letting me and my mom stay here, but this is not where I wanna be, period.”
    Yeah, she has a nice four-bedroom, two-and-a-half bathroom spot in the Jersey City heights section of Jersey City. And yeah, it’s extra close to the city and all. But it’s still not my home. And it’s still not Brooklyn! I slipped into my heels, and grabbed my bag. “Aunt Linda, I won’t yell at her again in your home, okay? But I am not going to respect her. I’m not respecting a woman who lets a man walk all over her.”
    â€œSweetie, you got a lot to learn about life and love. But I’ma let you figure it all out on your own since you seem to already have all the answers. That’s the problem with you young girls—you think you know everything.” This time, I gave her a hug, told her I loved her, then walked out.
    Â 
    â€œUmm, why don’t you watch where you’re goin’, trick!” someone snaps, banging her shoulder into me, shaking me outta my thoughts.
    I blink. I know I wasn’t that caught up in my head that I wasn’t aware of where I was walking. And I know for certain I didn’t walk into this chick. No. Judging by the smirk on her face, she purposefully bumped into me. And that’s a no-no, boo!
    â€œUh, no, hun,” I snap back. “Why don’t you watch where the hell you’re going? You bumped into me , you buffalo. Get it right.”
    â€œAnd? What you gonna do about it? Trick, you a buffalo.”
    I take a deep breath. Size this dark chocolate chick up. She’s a thick, ham-hock-and-biscuit-eating ho with humongous boobs and extra-big hands, which means I would have to punch her in her neck real hard to drop ’er. She has on a pair of ripped blue jeans and her double-D watermelons are stuffed into a pink tee with the words DON’T HATE stretched across the front of them in silver glitter. This broad is delusional , I think, frowning, if she thinks someone is gonna be hating on her. She has the nerve to have extra-long lashes on and pink lipstick painted over her big lips. She’s a cosmetologist’s nightmare!
    I blink. Oh my god... this broad looks like that chick from Barney. Baby Bop!
    Wait! Is that a mustache I see?
    â€œI should punch you in your face,” she growls. She’s about two, three, inches taller than my five-foot-six frame. Luckily for these six-inch heels on my feet, I’m hovering slightly over her as she stands here in her crispy white Nikes with the pink swoosh on the side.
    I swear I’m really not in the mood for this ish! Two days of hoes comin’ at me all slick is really more than I can take. I feel myself about to snap. Outta the corner of my eye, I see the queen of ghetto standing by the girls’ bathroom with her arms folded, taking it all in. I’m sure some kinda way her