3. Javaris ‘Hitta’ Mitchell #2
To lighten the mood a little bit in here, I walked over to where she was sitting, putting her ass in a bear hug.
She did that thing where she pretended she didn’t want me touching her, but she eventually let up, allowing me to do it.
I lowered my hands, allowing them to rest on her hips.
I placed my head into the crook of her neck, tickling her a little bit with the chin hair that I had.
“Give me a kiss,” I blurted.
“No nigga. You just annoyed the fuck out of me,” she talked shit, making me laugh. I kissed her cheek.
“I’m obsessed with you, girl. Obsessed like a motha fucka.
Them niggas at the club see you, and they’re obsessed with Poison.
I don’t see you as Poison. I see you as Deja, and that’s the version of you that I’m obsessed with.
Shit fucks with my spirit a little bit knowing that all these niggas out here want to fuck you,” I said some real shit to her.
“How do you think I feel, Javaris? Me, and you will share these beautiful moments together. I’ll come over to your spot, cook for you, we’ll lay up together, watch TV, and when we do intimate shit like that, my feelings for you grow even stronger.
The second I turn my back, you’re out here fuckin a bitch that you know I don’t get along with.
I know that I have sex appeal, and it’s a part of my job to be in these niggas faces, but I’m not fuckin them.
Only nigga I’m out here fuckin is you, and I feel like I look so stupid because you can’t even say the same thing to me.
You can’t tell me that I’m the only woman that’s getting that dick, can you? ” she turned her head around to ask me.
She pushed me off her too, so that she could get a better look at me. I didn’t want to look her in her eyes and lie to her. I felt like we would be beefing again. I also didn’t want to tell her the truth. Shit, so I just stood here, scratching my head, choosing to ignore her ass.
“That’s exactly what I thought!” she spat, and then turned around, so that she could finish eating her food.
I left her right there, so that I could go to the back, where her bedroom was. As I was walking to her bedroom, there were moving boxes packed away, siting in the hallway.
Deja’s lease was coming up soon, and she wasn’t renewing.
She was moving somewhere else. Every time I asked her if she’d found a spot yet, she would lie to me and tell me that she hadn’t.
I felt like she didn’t want me knowing where her new spot was going to be.
We did a lot of fussing and fighting at the spot that she was at now.
I’ve been known to pull up on her ass in the past, bringing our issues here, so that would explain why she would be cuffing the new address the way she was.
The thing is that I actually loved Deja. I loved sniffing up behind her, and knowing where she laid her head, so just like I knew the address to this spot, I’m sure that I was going to get the address for the next spot.
I made it to her bedroom, and because she trusted me, and knew that I wouldn’t steal from her, she had her duffle bag resting in the corner of the bedroom, that held all the money that she’d earned tonight.
Her bed was freshly made too. You could tell that Deja spent a lot of time working because every time I came to her crib, it was always spotless over here.
She had cleaners that were on rotation to clean every two weeks.
Judging by the vacuum tracks running through the carpet, I could tell that the cleaners had to have been here recently.
A lit candle rested on Deja’s dresser, and I recognized the scent.
It was the same scent that I always smelled on Deja. Her whole fuckin crib smelled this way.
I crossed through the bedroom, making my way over to the bathroom. To the right of the bathroom was Deja’s walk- in closet. A lot of her shit was already packed up. I saw the boxes with name tags on them. She had her purses, tennis shoes, heels, and other items already packed up.
I went for the bathroom, cutting the light on.
The gun, wallet, and couple of phones that were in my pockets, I went ahead and sat them down on the counter.
From there, I removed my shirt. Because I sleep over here a couple of times throughout the week, I had a drawer in Deja’s bathroom.
In that drawer, I pulled out my extra-large stocking cap, placing it on my head, covering up my dreads, so that I could take a shower.
The second I went for the buckle on my jeans, my screen lit up, indicating that I had a text message.
My phone was on silent. I knew to silence my shit before coming over to Deja’s crib.
Not because she was going to go through my shit, but I just didn’t want my phone constantly buzzing or ringing out loud, leading her to jump down my back, wanting to know who was texting or calling me.
It was Joy hitting me. Her stage name was Obsession.
She danced at the same club as Deja. This was the bitch that had me, and Deja beefing.
The two of them didn’t get along. I knew I didn’t have any business fuckin Joy, especially knowing the ongoing beef that she had with Deja, but I’ve always been the kind of nigga to fold quickly when it came to pussy.
I’ve got plenty of dances from Joy at the club.
She’s been wanting to fuck me for months, but I would always hold out, knowing that it would make my bitch mad.
I slipped up one night, fell for the bait, followed her home, and I fucked. We’ve fucked multiple times since then. Deja found out about it, and because Deja stopped fuckin with me behind that, I stopped fuckin with Joy. I was shocked to see her texting me.
Joy
My period didn’t come on two days ago. My period is never late. I called out of work today because I’ve been throwing up. I’m too scared to take a pregnancy test.
Reading that shit, I sucked my teeth.
“Fuck! Fuck!” I spat. I didn’t say the shit too loud because I didn’t want Deja to hear me.
The first time I hit Joy, I went in with a condom.
All the times after that, I went in raw.
She told me she wasn’t on birth control, so I did my best to pull out.
Joy was a good girl. Even though she was in the same profession as Deja, I knew that she wasn’t out here fuckin on all the niggas.
If she was pregnant, more than likely that was my child.
I couldn’t let her keep that baby though. Deja would leave a nigga for good.
Order a test to your crib and take it. If you pregnant, I’ll send you the bread to get rid of it. That shit going to be messy. We don’t need to have a baby. You know that.
I was sweating like a motha fucka. Outside of Deja, no other woman has ever texted me, telling me that they thought they were pregnant with our child.
I got Deja pregnant twice this year. Earlier in the year, and just a couple of months ago.
When it happened earlier in the year, she called me freaking out, telling me the same shit that Joy just told me.
Deja’s period was regular and would come on like clockwork.
When it didn’t show up, she was all irate, so I pulled up with a test for her.
She took it, and sure enough, her ass was pregnant.
Before I could even do that thing that niggas do, where we plead our case, saying how we were going to be there for the baby, her ass was quick to tell me that she wasn’t keeping it.
I’ll admit, I felt some kind of way about that shit. Deja was someone that I genuinely cared about, even though a lot of times my actions were fucked up. I knew I couldn’t tell her what to do with her body, so I gave her the money, and she terminated the pregnancy.
When she got pregnant a couple of months ago, she miscarried our child.
Neither one of us even knew she was pregnant.
Till this day, I’ll ask Deja if she didn’t miscarry, would she have kept the baby, and she always looks me dead in my face, and tells me that she wouldn’t.
Two pregnancies in the same year caused her to get on birth control.
She took her pills every morning, so we shouldn’t have to have any more slip ups.
My screen lit up again, letting me know that Joy texted back.
Joy
Hitta, fuck you! Don’t treat me like I’m some hoe.
If the plan was to get an abortion, I don’t need your fuckin money for it, nigga.
If I am pregnant, I’m not killing my child.
If I have to stop dancing for a little bit, then I’ll just do that.
I can raise my baby on my own. Fuck you, and I’m blocking your stupid ass.
I didn’t even respond back to that bullshit. She blew me with this news. I came in here to brush my teeth, wash my face, and shower. I knew I was about to climb into some good pussy, and I was excited about it.
Instead of silencing my phone, I should have cut it off, which was originally the plan. I was going to let Joy cool the fuck down, but in a couple of days, I needed to pull up on her. If she was pregnant, I had to let her know how terrible of a decision she was making by choosing to keep the baby.
I eventually handled my business in the bathroom.
I showered, brushed my teeth, and washed my face.
Like I lived here or something, I walked out of the bathroom with my dirty clothes in my hands, sitting them inside Deja’s dirty hamper that was in her closet.
My towel was around my waist, and I made it into the bedroom, where she was lying in the middle of the bed.
She was resting on her side, with the remote in her hands, scrolling through the TV, trying to find something to watch.
You would think that she would be lying there, fighting her sleep, but she wasn’t.
She was used to these hours. She was used to being up at this time of night.