Chapter 11 #4
“She turned up at Walmart. She pulled a move so slick that I gotta use it. Don’t even jump up when she take shit too far.
I’mma get her. Just watch her. You might gotta beat a nigga’s ass at that school.
I’on even need him seein’ you comin’. That’s yo’ task fo’ this at-home lesson.
Understood,” I told him seriously as Azaria yawned.
August Junior and I rushed our heads at the queen of wanting to stay up late. At once, we hollered, “Ain’t no going to sleep yet! Run around!”
Momma giggled as Azaria climbed up her grandmother’s legs. Sliding her hands toward the droopy-eyed kid, I said, “Momma, don’t rock her to sleep, nih. She gon’ be in the room wit’ you.”
Looking at me smiling, Momma smiled. “That’s fine.”
“You say that now. You gon’ have a hard time tryin’ to figure out where that guh at. She ain’t scared of the dark,” I said seriously, causing Momma to mush my head.
“I’m finna go put Momma’s truck in the garage,” August Junior said, hopping to his feet.
“A’ight,” I replied as my phone rang.
While Momma talked to Azaria, I answered a call from Tiberius. Placing the call on the speaker, I commanded, “Talk to me.”
In between smacking, he chuckled. “So, yo’ ass was runnin’ through them folks sto’ gettin’ hollered at by the queen baboon of The Quad Ts, huh?”
Momma and August Junior laughed as I nodded and chuckled. “Yep. Who told you?”
“She did.” He laughed as I rested my head on Momma.
While August Junior walked out of the door, Tiberius asked, “We still on fo’ tonight after Mona don’ whooped Ms. Dorothy an’ Syrah asses?”
Before I could answer, Momma hollered, “I know damn well Mona ain’t beat that old an’ still hot in the drawls Dorothy? Why?”
Tiberius howled in laughter. I sat my dumb ass next to Momma, hating that I was so close to her.
“I know you heard me ask yo’ ass a question, August Senior,” Momma fussed as Mona stepped into the room wearing a Nike athletic suit.
Plopping her hands on her hips, Mona looked in our direction and offered, “She dared to call his phone when I told her his ass was off the market. I had just whooped that ass and pushed her into a hole. Syrah got beat by being up in her grandma business.”
“Why that old fast bitch got yo’ number, August Abbott?” Momma yelled, scaring Azaria as the other Quad Ts voices graced our ears.
Fuck, I thought, exhaling, “I was gettin’ her disability check.”
Only three of the idiots laughed harder.
“How was you gettin’ that bitch’s funds, August Senior?” Momma hissed, shaking.
“A lil strippin’ an’ strokin’,” I answered lowly as the laughing fuckas had to come off my phone.
I rushed to end the call. Gloriously, Momma fussed, “So, you was fuckin’ that nasty ran through bitch?”
“Yes,” I answered, thankful August Junior wasn’t present.
“Yo’ dick ain’t got no standards. Just fuck anything. How much money was you gettin’ out her old ass?” Momma sassed, rolling her neck.
Cheesing as if she could see me, I answered, “The whole check an’ her grandchurren monies. A smooth stack an’ a few dollahs.”
“Lawd Jesus!” Momma hollered dramatically, slapping her left hand on the arm of the sofa.
Facing me, she hollered, “So, you was in them streets sellin’ dick an’ dope, huh?”
Nodding, I replied, “Yes, ma’am.”
“My God. Where the fuck was Kingsley, Kingdon, an’ King while you was slangin’ yo’ materials?” She asked as I was beyond thankful that August Junior wasn’t in the house.
“Depend on the timeframe.”
“You better explain!” she fussed as I closed my eyes.
“The twins was never into sellin’ dope. Kingdon was never into sellin’ his dick.
He was a worker, so he was either tryin’ to keep King from being King or at the crib.
King was either wit’ Tree or puttin’ folks in a hole.
Eventually, he started sellin’ his dick.
Gotta get the specifics from him. Kingsley was ‘round, coachin’ an’ bossin’,” I answered as a car door closed.
It didn’t come from the garage. August Junior was walking into the house from the garage-kitchen door.
Mona clicked her heels together before sashaying to the door. As I didn’t remove my eyes from my too-calm fiancée, Momma said, “It’s too quiet in here. Is an ass-whoopin’ on the way?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nodded, excited to see Amana get what was owed to her.
“Mona, remember our womb status nih,” I offered as a few knocks sounded on the rectangular object.
“I won’t,” she said quickly, nearing the door. “Who is it?”
We didn’t hear who was at the door, so Mona said, “I need you to speak louder. Who is it?”
“Amana. August Junior’s mother,” the bitch said proudly as my woman retrieved one of Azaria’s legless dolls from her pink doll bin.
“Is that so?” my woman inquired, shoving the doll into the back of her shorts.
August Junior hurried to slide next to me as Mona opened the door with a beautiful but fake smile.
“Showtime.” I grinned, crossing my legs. I was excited to see the bitch who hurt me badly get her ass beaten. It was my pleasure for August Junior to see how far Mona took shit to make people understand it’s her way or the highway.