Chapter 3 #2
“I-I’ll be right back,” she said, backing away slowly like she’d just been given a warning from the universe or suddenly remembered she had options in life and quitting that job was one of them.
Chi reclined in his seat, grinning to himself.
“See? That’s customer service with urgency.”
I cut my eyes toward him. “So you ordering for me now?”
“Just trying to save the city, bro. Now, back to what I was saying. Nigga, I don’ told you to stop doing this shit. I’m convinced you don’t want to see a nigga happy with yo’ sister, ’cause if one more random ass chick texts me and Dess finds out…”
Chi trailed off, looking toward the sky like he was talking directly to God.
Chi was engaged to my sister, Dessign, who we called Dess for short. She was beautiful, fiery, and always on edge. Dessign was the type of girl who would slash a nigga tires and then send him a handwritten apology hours later.
See, usually when a woman started acting like she caught feelings…
or worse, asked deep questions like, "What are we?", I’d just gave her Chi’s number and tell her my assistant would handle scheduling.
They never knew my real name anyway. Half of ‘em would text him, calling me Marquis, Darius, etc . I’d rather give out my blood type than my real name to females.
Meanwhile, my nigga Chi was going through it at his crib . Him and Dessign stayed arguing about the women and the texts. I’m talking… loud arguments; the kind neighbors record and send to The Shade Room… just in case. It got so bad, I finally told him the truth. That nigga was livid.
I went into my thoughts about that day.
“That explains why all these random ass women been hittin’ me like, ‘You free next Tuesday?’ and ‘When can I see you again?’ Bro, I thought I was getting catfished!”
“You were,” I said. “By me.”
Chi stared at me after that revelation for a long time, like he was debating between laughing, crying, or fighting.
“Bro,” he finally spoke, “I was about to start filing restraining orders. I been waking up to ‘Good morning, sexy’ texts from numbers saved as Do Not Answer.”
I shrugged. “You’re too available; I needed a buffer.”
Chi wiped his face like he was tired of life. “Yo, I swear, if Dess leave me over some chick named Peaches from the Bronx who swear she my soulmate, I'ma kill you, then resurrect you just so I can cuss you out.”
I sipped my drink, completely unfazed.
“Then do it quick… ‘Cause Peaches got a second date next Friday.”
“Well, what this one say?” I finally asked.
Chi looked back at his phone, then shook his head.
“She said—and I quote—‘Tell Peter I miss him and I’m still sore.’”
Soon as Chi said the chick called me Peter, I instantly knew he was talking about Andria’s ass.
She was fine, no doubt… body on ten. But Andria was way too clingy.
She was the type who would start planning a baby shower after a deep hug.
And the pussy? That shit was mid-tier with potential but never reached it.
Like, it had a good résumé, but no references.
So hell nah I never called her back, and I wasn’t going to either.
Chi cocked his head. “Now, I don’ seen you come up with some crazy ass names, but Peter , nigga?
Out of all the names? Bro, that name sounds like it belongs to a nigga who sells insurance, pass out peppermints after church or brings a fruit tray to the cookout and asks if the ribs are organic. ” Chi laughed.
“Name don’t matter… dick legendary. I could go with Peter, Paul, or John—either way, they still gon’ pray after.”
“Bro, you probably got that girl out here burning sage, trying to manifest Peter back. Meanwhile, Peter don’t even got a birth certificate, a social security number, or a forwarding address. Nigga don’t exist on paper but live rent-free in her head.”
“ Peter don’t text back. Peter don’t argue. Peter don’t make promises. Peter don’t explain. Peter leaves before sunrise and tips like heartbreak is part of the service charge ,” I joked. “She shouldn’t have caught feelings for Peter.” I shrugged, insensitively. “But block her.”
Chi whistled. “Nigga, you got a PhD in savage when it comes to these women. You ain’t just savage, you the valedictorian of not giving a damn.”
I looked at him sideways. “And yo’ ass had an extra credit in creeping, a scholarship in savagery, a minor in heartbreak, a bachelor’s in toxicology and a whole master’s in lying before you got engaged.”
Chi was the jokester amongst us, always ready with a clown or a jab.
That was his lane. But he knew my comebacks could be hell—and funny as shit too— if I was in the mood to joke around.
Which wasn’t often. Most days I didn’t have the patience to laugh, let alone entertain somebody else’s.
But every now and then, I’d let him cook, then snatch the pot just to remind him who really seasoned it.
Chi held his hand over his heart. “Bro, don’t bring up my past; I’ma changed man. I’ve been baptized in love. I walk in light and loyalty now.”
“Yeah… now. Yo’ ass used to walk in back doors and leave out fire escapes.”
He chuckled. “And was discreet as hell with that shit too.”
“But I told ol’ girl what it was, from the jump like I do all their asses,” I said, getting back on topic.
“Nah, according to her text, you told her, ‘Get dressed, your ride’s outside,’ while you was already on the phone ordering room service for yo’self.”
I smirked, unapologetic. “These women know what it is. I’m not their husband, therapist, and I’m damn sure not their fairytale. I’m the disclaimer at the start of the movie—they just don’t read the fine print.”
“And yet,” Chi said, amused, “they all keep catching feelings like it’s contagious. You ever notice how the women you only smash once act like you put ’em down on the lease and gave ’em a spare key. I’m speaking in past tense… before me and Dess got together.”
I didn’t respond. I was watching a nigga across the way get cooked in pool like he was trying to collect money for his child support that month. If I was sociable and had an ounce of patience for people, I’d show him how to stop embarrassing his bloodline.
Chi wiped his fingers and continued. “I’m just saying, one round and suddenly she got your last name saved in her phone as ‘Bae With Benefits.’”
Just then, trouble in 5-inch heels strolled over.
Aaliyah . Bronze skin, waist-length hair, tight emerald dress, and all the entitlement of someone who believed us fucking a few times equaled a relationship.
“Pretty Boy,” she purred, smile wide. “Didn’t think I’d see you out in about tonight.”
Aaliyah called me ‘Pretty Boy’ because I was mixed. I hated when people called me that shit, and it wasn’t because I had a little Caucasian swimming in my blood. It’s just, there wasn’t a damn thing boyish about me.
Not how I moved.
Not how I handled business.
And definitely not how I fucked.
Chi leaned back and popped a fry in his mouth.
“Oh shit… she brought the loud ass perfume with a nickname, and maybe an attitude in a minute. We got a situation, ladies and gentlemen.”
I finally turned to Aaliyah; my face calm but disrespectfully loaded.
“Look, stop with that pretty boy shit. Don’t confuse soft features with soft energy.
See, pretty boys stroke slow and whisper sweet nothings in the dark.
I grip throats, talk shit, and leave a bitch questioning her last three life decisions.
I don’t fuck like a “pretty boy”; I fuck like a grown-ass man who knows exactly how long he can make a female forget about whoever came before me.
Act like you know. Now walk away. It wasn’t good to see you. ”
Her expression was a mix of offensiveness and being turned on.
“Really, Imanio?”
“Chill on the name.”
Aaliyah—unlike all the other girls I fucked with—stayed in the same city as me and she’d known me since high school; that was how she knew my real name.
“Well, that is your name. I mean, I tried calling you ‘Pretty Boy’ but you don’t like that either.”
“If you gon’ call me something, call me a muthafuckin’ problem . Now I said what the fuck I said.”
Aaliyah laughed, thinking I was joking. “I guess you’re still mad about me telling my girls you treat kissing like it’s against your religion. What kind of man skips that part?”
Chi sipped his drink with interest. “This just got good.”
“The kind who doesn’t don’t waste intimacy on the temporary.
I don’t kiss women I plan to forget; that’s why you never got one.
Kissing is for women I respect. You? You got what you qualified for.
So no, I’m not mad; I just don’t have conversations with people I’ve already thrown away,” I replied coldly.
Aaliyah narrowed her eyes. “Wow! You know what… you ain’t even all that! Just remember, I gave you a chance!”
“You don’t even believe that, shawty,” Chi chimed in. “If a nigga wasn’t all that, you wouldn’t be standing here with your lashes hanging lower than your standards. Come on now.”
“Facts,” I nodded. “And just how you said, you gave me a chance, I gave you an orgasm you still replay in your head, and the kind of dick you’ll be comparing niggas to for the rest of your life.
So it looks to me like we’re more than even, which puts you in debt.
And judging by the way you still popping up, your reputation in collections too.
Don’t worry, though, I already wrote you off as a loss.
Now, for the last time, get the fuck on down, Aaliyah.
Shoo. Fly. Float. Vanish. Whatever works.
Just exit stage left,” I said, swatting her away like a fly.
Chi doubled over in laughter. “Nigga, you sound like Raid in human form—‘Shoo, fly, die , whatever works!’”
“Whatever! Y’all childish!” Aaliyah rolled her eyes then stormed off.