8. Rosama
Rosama
“Man, that bitch got me fucked up!” I yelled as I walked into the trap.
“Nigga, who?” Dre asked.
“Nylah.”
Dre tilted his head. “Shorty you hit? Nigga, how?”
Dre was in the kitchen weighing out, workin' out. I walked ova and took the lit blunt that he had before I responded.
“Yeah, shorty I hit. I pulled up on her for our lil’ date the otha night and shit. This bitch lookin’ at me with lil’ shorts on, her hair tied up and shit. I asked her what the issue.”
I had to pause. I couldn’t even believe the shit myself.
“Dre, this bitch had a picture of me on a date with anotha bitch that I had been tryna crack.”
Dre put the weed down and laughed loud as hell.
“She saw you?”
I nodded. “Shorty caught me in fuckin’ 4K. Told me she wasn’t a roster type of bitch.”
Dre was still dying laughing. “So, what did you do?”
“I don’t even want to tell you. I was ova her crib for almost an hour tryna get her to let me take her out. She was not goin’ for that shit.”
Dre wiped his tears away. “Damn, nigga, you met your match.”
I nodded. “I did. She wasn’t goin’ for none of the shit I was talkin’ bout. She told me to come correct. Can you believe that shit?”
Dre shook his head. “Damn, you was DOA, huh? Dead on arrival.”
If that nigga wasn’t my right hand, off the way I was feeling, I would have shot him.
“Shut the fuck up!” I said through his enjoyment.
“So, on to the next one?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Nah, I want her, and I’ma get her. That smart-mouth girl is gonna be my wife.”
Dre raised an eyebrow while shaking his head. “Don’t you have other shit to be worried about?”
I looked around the trap. “Nigga, what? I am up right now. The trap stay jumping, guns comin’ and goin’, pockets stay fat. I am havin’ my way right now, and I am fuckin’ loving it.”
“Iight, nigga. I just think that you need to take it slow with this girl, you feel me. You are not always…the faithful type.”
“Why do you say that?”
Before Dre could respond, my phone lit up with DON’T ANSWER once again.
“Man, what the fuck!” I yelled out. “This bitch don’t get it?”
Dre laughed. “See, nigga! That’s the shit I'm talkin’ bout. You talkin’ bout she’s the one when you have shit you need to handle.”
I laughed, but I agreed with him. “You right, nigga. I need to go holla at her, make sure she knows where I stand.”
“Yes,” Dre said, clapping as I headed to the door. “Do that first, don’t be a dog-ass nigga all your life.”
I sat in my car for a minute before I pulled off, not wanting to do what I had to, but I knew it was time.
I took the drive to the Upper East Side. The whole drive I was thinking bout shit I'd rather be doing than what I was finna do. When I pulled up to the house, her car was parked in front. I was hoping she was gone, but the way she had been calling my phone, I knew that wasn’t gonna happen.
I hopped outta my car and took my time walking to the door. As I placed my hand on the knob, I took a deep breath and opened the door.
I stood in the entryway and looked around. It had been a minute since I had been there, and shit didn’t feel the same.
As I made my way to the kitchen, I saw her standing ova top of the stove.
She looked at me with an attitude, and I looked at her the same way.
“Welcome home, husband.”
I smirked. “Wussup with you, girl?”
She sucked her teeth.
“What have you been blowing my phone up for?” I asked.
“Because I wanted you to come home.”
I shook my head as I sat down. “This is not my home, Mariah. This was the home you wanted.”
“For us!” she yelled out. “We have been here for three years, and now you come home less and less.”
“Because I want a divorce.”
We stared at each other for a minute. You could hear a pin drop in that kitchen.
“I made steak. I didn’t know you was comin’ home, but I can make another. I also made some yellow rice and some—”
“Did you hear what I just said?” I asked, cutting her off. “I said I want—”
“I heard what you said, Rosama. I am choosing not to respond.”
I sat back in the chair. “You need to respond. Matter of fact, you need to sign the papers I've been sent to you.”
Mariah shook her head. “I'm not signin’ shit. I want us to fix things.”
I exhaled loud and slow. “Baby girl, it takes two people to fix a relationship, and I don’t want to fix shit with you.”
Mariah walked ova to me with tears in her eyes. I don’t know if she thought that would change my mind, but it didn’t.
“Why do you hate me?” she asked me softly.
That shit did kinda hit a spot.
“I don’t hate you. We just don’t vibe anymore. We have been together since I got locked in high school. Remember that shit?”
She wiped her tears away with a slight smile.
“Yeah, you said we were the new Bonnie and Clyde.”
I laughed. “I did, and you know what? Even they ran their course.”
The smile on Mariah’s face quickly went away.
“I don’t give a fuck about Bonnie and Clyde, Rosama. I care about us and what we have. I don’t want us to end. Can we try counseling? Your birthday is coming up. That could be a fresh start for us.”
I stood up and took Mariah into my arms, hugging her tight.
“This is what you want?” I asked. “A nigga to love on you, come home to you, fight with and for you, huh?”
She pulled back from me with a smile. “Yes, Rosama. I want all of that.”
I nodded. “You are not gonna get that shit from me, because I don't want to give it to you.”
I sat back down at the table. My phone rang with a text. I looked at my phone and saw it was Nylah
Nylah: What you could have had, but you fucked that up.
She sent me a picture of herself at work. Shorty was teasing me, making my dick jump and shit. I smirked at my phone while Mariah was running her mouth. I wanted Nylah to know I wasn’t bout to be playing with her.
Me: Damn, ma, if only I got to see that in person. But that time will come. Until then, have lunch on me.
I sent her three hundred, then heard Mariah clear her throat.
“Is that the bitch that’s taking up your time?”
After I sent Nylah some money for lunch, I looked up at Mariah.
“I have been dealing with some bitches that have been givin’ me what I need, and I mean ALL that I need. But this shorty on my line right now, I'm tryna make my wife.”
Mariah's eyes widened as I stood up and walked past her.
“So sign the papers so I can move on.”
“That bitch will be your wife over my dead body!” Mariah yelled out.
“Don't threaten me with a good time, mama, you already know how I get down,” I yelled back as I closed the front door behind me.
I pulled away from that house fast, knowing it was a waste of my time even being there. I needed to put my mind on something else before I crash out on that bitch, and for some reason, I decided to try and call Nylah.
“Damn, nigga,” she said as she picked up. “I been on your mind all night?”
I smiled at her smart-ass comment.
“Somethin’ like that, since you couldn’t respond to a nigga.”
“Well, that is what happens when you fuck up.”
I shook my head.
“Man, I need you to cut that shit out so I can show you how I move,” I responded.
“You already showing me how you move, thanks for lunch,” she said with a lil’ laugh.
“That’s just the beginnin’.”
“The beginning?” she repeated. “The beginning of what?”
“Of you bein’ mine.”
She laughed. I could imagine the smile on her face.
“Listen, I am gettin' ready to walk into my school. I might hit you later.”
“Might?” I repeated. “Come on now, I'm tryna start ova with you.”
She didn’t say shit else, just laughed and hung up the phone.
As I got out of my car and stepped back on the stoop, Dre asked, “You get things right with your wife?”
If he wasn’t my right hand, I might have shot him.
“Nigga, shut up. Mariah gonna learn the hard way. When I speak, when I ask for somethin’ to be done, it get done.”
“Man, you been fighting this battle with her for years. I told you not to marry her.”
He wasn’t lying; that nigga damn near begged me not to marry her.
“What is your move now?” he asked.
I chuckled. “What the fuck I been doin'. Mariah not gonna stop shit for me.”
“What about Nylah?”
I paused for a second. I did need to figure out what I was gonna do for real because I wanted her.
“I’ma take my time with her, lock her down while I get Mariah out the way.”
Dre lit his blunt. “You better be glad ol’ girl in the Bronx. That’s the only way you gonna get away with this shit.”
“Facts,” I responded. “But it’s cool, ‘cause by my birthday, Mariah will be at her mama's house while I have Nylah's ass out on a yacht somewhere.”
“Bday is the deadline?” Dre asked.
I nodded. “My bday is Mariah’s mothafuckin’ deadline.”