CHAPTER FOURTEEN #2
"You know what," I said, my voice shaking, "I'ma let you talk yo’ shit; excuse me but I got shit to do."
"Mmhmm. Run away. That's what y'all young girls do when shit get real." She turned back to her turkeys, dismissing me completely. "Tell Sontae I'ma be back Friday. We having Thanksgiving at my house this year, Trigg coming through, and Tasha just got out so she gon' be there too."
"Tasha out?" I asked before I could stop myself. I'd heard about her. She was Trigg's sister and she had been locked up for a minute.
"Yeah, she got out on a technicality two weeks ago." Miss Shaunie lit another cigarette. "So, yeah she gon' be at Thanksgiving. She family. Real family. Not..." She looked me up and down. "Whatever this is."
That was it. I was done.
I walked out that kitchen so fast, heading straight for the stairs. I heard the front door open just as I hit the first step.
"Yah? Ma?" Sosa's voice called out.
"In the kitchen, baby!" Miss Shaunie's whole tone changed, all sweet and loving now.
I couldn't do it. I couldn't be around her right now. I went straight to our bedroom and closed the door, leaning against it as I tried to catch my breath.
Then I grabbed my phone and called Mya.
"Heyyy, sis! What's good?"
"Girl." I sat down on the edge of the bed, my voice coming out tight. "His mama just came through and I'm about to catch a motherfucking case."
"Oh Lord, what Miss Shaunie do now?"
"Bitch, she came through talking about how Sosa could have any bitch in Chicago. How I'm convenient. How I'm just another hoe trying to come up off her son. How when the love fade, where I'ma be. All types of disrespectful shit. Then she called me 'not real family'."
"She did NOT!" Mya sounded heated now. "Yah-Yah, please tell me you cussed her old ass out."
"I wanted to! So bad! But that's his mama, and I'm trying to be respectful, but Mya I swear to God I can't stand that lady.
" I laid back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Like, she really stood in this kitchen and basically called me a gold digger. After everything I been through. After how hard I been working. After a whole year of being with her son and trying to prove myself. This bitch still won’t let me live. "
"Fuck her," Ya'Mya said bluntly. "For real, sis. She jealous
"Jealous? Of what?"
"Of you! Think about it, she had to hustle and struggle for everything. She probably ain't never had no nigga treat her the way Sosa treat you. So seeing her son give you everything, love you the way he do, that probably fucks with her. That shit makes her feel some type of way."
I ain't think about it like that. But Mya had a point. Miss Shaunie came up rough, had to do everything on her own, probably got played by niggas left and right. And here I was, getting treated like royalty by her baby boy.
"Even if that's true," I said, "that don't give her the right to talk to me like that. I ain't did shit to her. I ain’t been nothing but respectful."
"I know, sis. And Sosa know too. You gotta tell him though. Let him know you can't keep dealing with her disrespect."
"I know, I know." I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. "Let me call you back. He coming. Tell Yatta I said wassup."
"Aight. And Yah-Yah? Don't let her make you feel bad about your happiness. You earned this shit. You deserve Sosa. Fuck what she think."
"Thanks, Sis. Love you."
"Love you too, boo."
I hung up just as Sosa knocked and opened the door. He looked stressed, his jaw tight, and I knew he probably heard some of what went down.
"My mama left," he said, closing the door behind him.
"Good." I sat up, not even trying to hide how I felt. "No offense."
"None taken." He walked over and sat next to me, his hand going to my thigh.
"What she say to you?"
"What she always say." I looked at him, feeling all that frustration bubble back up. "That I'm using you. That you could have any bitch in Chicago. That I'm just convenient. That when your love for me fade, I'ma be out on my ass. Oh, and she called me 'not real family'."
Sosa's jaw clenched tighter. "She said that?"
"Word for word. Well, not exactly but that's what she meant." I felt tears threatening again. "Baby, I know that’s your mother, but I can't stand her. I'm sorry.”
He was quiet for a long moment, his hand squeezing my thigh. Then he turned to face me fully.
"My mama come from a hard place," he said slowly. "She been through a lot. Seen a lot. And that made her... bitter. Especially when it come to relationships. She don't trust nobody, don't think love real, think every woman out to use a nigga."
"But I'm not—"
"I know you not. I know that, baby." He cupped my face with both hands. "But she can't see it. She too stuck in her own pain to see what's real right in front of her."
"So what, I just gotta deal with her talking to me crazy forever?"
"Nah." His voice got firm. "I'ma talk to her. Let her know she need to respect you or she can't come to my crib."
"Sosa, I don't wanna come between you and your mama—"
"You not. She doing that herself." He pulled me closer. "Listen to me, Yah-Yah. You the most important person in my life.. And I ain't about to let her, or anybody else for that matter disrespect you.”
"She said Thanksgiving at her house this year," I said quietly.
"We ain't gotta go if you don't want to. We can do our own thing."
"Nah, we should go. She your mama. Zurie your sister. That's your family." I wiped my eyes. "I just... I need her to respect me, Sosa. That's all I'm asking for."
"And she will. I'ma make sure of it." He kissed me soft and slow, wiping my tears with his thumbs. "I love you so much, Yah. Don't let her make you doubt that."
"I love you too, baby." I whispered against his lips.
"Come on. I brought food from the restaurant. Let's eat and forget about all this bullshit for now."
"Okay," I said, letting him pull me up.
* * *
The next morning, I felt Sosa's hand grip my throat, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make my eyes snap open. His face was right there, inches from mine, his dark eyes looking at me like I was something he owned.
"Get up," he said, his voice low and rough. "We going out."
"Sosa, I'm still tired—"
"I ain't ask if you was tired." He squeezed my throat a little tighter, making my pussy clench. "I said get up. Go shower, do your makeup, put on something that's gon' make every nigga in the city wish they was me. You got thirty minutes."
He let go and got out of bed, walking to the bathroom like the conversation was over.
Because it was. When Sosa said do something, you did it.
That's just how he was. Demanding. Commanding.
The type of nigga who didn't hear the word "no" often and definitely didn't accept it when he did. And God help me, I loved that shit.
Twenty-five minutes later, I came out the bathroom in a burgundy bodycon dress that hugged every curve, my hair slicked up in a high ponytail, edges laid perfect, makeup beat. My brown leather jacket was thrown over my arm and I had on my thigh-high boots.
He looked me up and down slowly, his tongue running over his bottom lip.
"That's what the fuck I'm talking about. Come here."
I walked over and he grabbed my waist, pulling me between his legs where he sat on the edge of the bed. His hands slid down to my ass, gripping hard.
"You know you fine as fuck, right?" he said, looking up at me.
"You tell me every day."
"'Cause it's true every day." He smacked my ass, making me jump.
"Now let's go. I'm about to spend some bread on you."
"Baby, you don't gotta—"
"Yah-Yah." He stood up, towering over me. "Don't tell me what I gotta do. I'm a grown ass man. If I wanna spend my money on my woman, that's what the fuck I'ma do. You got a problem with that?"
I bit my lip, shaking my head. "No."
"Nah, say it right."
"No, baby."
"That's better." He grabbed his keys off the dresser. "Let's ride."
* * *
First stop was the high-end shoe store downtown where they treated you like royalty. Sosa had his arm around my waist the whole time, his presence making every employee move faster, speak softer, and act right.
"Bring out everything in her size," he told the sales lady. "Red bottoms, Gucci, Prada, all that. If it's fire, bring it."
"Sir, we have quite an extensive collection—"
"Then you better get to walking, shorty. We don't got all day."
She scurried off and I looked at him. "You so rude."
"I ain't rude. I'm direct. There's a difference." He sat back in the leather chair, spreading his legs wide, his black nike tech fitting him perfect, that diamond chain catching the light.
"Now go ahead. Try shit on."
I ended up trying on at least fifteen pairs. Every time I modeled one, Sosa would nod or shake his head, his eyes glued to my legs and ass.
"Them," he said when I put on a pair of red bottoms. "And them Gucci sneakers you tried on earlier. And them strappy heels."
"Sosa, that's almost five thousand dollars—"
"And?" He pulled out his black card, handing it to the sales lady without even looking at her. "Ring it up. And while you at it, show her them new Balenciaga’s that just came in."
"Baby—"
"Yah-Yah, I love you, but if you say 'baby' in that voice one more time like you about to protest, I'ma bend you over this counter and fuck you in front of everybody in this store. Now try on the shoes."
My pussy clenched. He wasn't playing either, I could see it in his eyes. So I tried on the Balenciaga’s. He bought those too.
Next was the jewelry store. I saw the tennis bracelets in the case and my eyes lit up.
"You want that?" Sosa asked, his hand on my lower back.
"It's pretty but bae, you just spent—" He turned to the jeweler. "Aye, my man. Let me see that tennis bracelet. The one with the bigger diamonds."
"Sir, that particular piece is fifteen thousand—"
"I ain't ask you how much it cost. I said let me see it." Sosa's tone left no room for argument.
The jeweler quickly pulled it out, and Sosa took it, grabbing my wrist and clasping it on himself. He held my hand up, looking at how the diamonds caught the light against my brown skin.