10. Deja McCoy #3
“My last fuckin leg on my ticket, and this nigga about to make me lose out on two hundred thousand dollars. All because he acting like he don’t know how to throw the fuckin ball. Ain’t this some shit,” he spat. He was stressed. He picked his hands up, putting them on top of his head.
Dealing with a man that sports bet, and always had his TV on sport channels, I knew a little something about football.
“How many yards did you put in for him to throw?” I asked, sounding like I was a professional too.
I could tell my question annoyed the fuck out of him because he sucked his teeth. He just admitted that two hundred thousand dollars was on the line. I’m sure the last thing he wanted right now was to be questioned about anything.
“I wanted him to go over 275.5,” he voiced.
“How many does he have right now?” I asked.
“Deja, baby please. The nigga only got 200 yards. I swear I’m not trying to be mean to you, but bae give me a minute,” he said, not even turning his head around to look at me because he was too engrossed in the game right now.
He was staring at the TV, as if that was going to help Stafford give him those yards that he needed for his ticket.
I knew the kind of bad moods that he could get in once he lost, so I didn’t say anything else.
I just looked at the time on the clock, needing to see how much time was left.
There was only thirty seconds left, and we were in the final quarter of the game.
Stafford’s team didn’t even have the ball.
Whatever money that Hitta bet on this ticket, he might as well just kiss that money goodbye because it wasn’t going to hit.
There was literally no way it would. Stafford needed almost another 76 yards, and with only 30 seconds left on the clock, with his offense not on the field right now, there was no way.
“Fuck man! Fuck! Pussy ass nigga fucked up my ticket! This some bullshit!” he spat.
I really watched this man stand here, and punch at the air. I let him have his moment and didn’t bother to say anything.
I eventually stood up, so that I could go to the back, and use the bathroom.
Hitta only had one bathroom at his apartment, and it was the one that was attached to his bedroom.
I walked to the back and made it to his bedroom.
His bed was freshly made, and everything about the room was spotless.
Hitta was very clean, and tidy. I’ve never come to his place and had to witness anything out of order.
I walked into his bathroom, and quickly went over to the toilet, so that I could handle my business.
After wiping, and flushing, I washed my hands at the sink.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I was just realizing that my eyes were still a little red from the crying that I’d done in the car, plus they were puffy.
This is how you knew that Hitta hadn’t been paying my ass any attention, and he was heavily engrossed in his ticket.
Shaking my head, I dried my hands off on a nearby hand towel and walked out of the bathroom.
Cutting through his bedroom again, I was almost to the door when I heard his other phone ding on his nightstand.
I learned years ago to never go through a nigga’s phone, so when I heard the text message notification, the plan was to continue walking, but then it dinged again.
It did it again, and again. I felt like I was being summoned.
That phone was telling me to walk my ass over there, and see what was going on.
It was his personal phone too. This was the phone that probably had all the hoes and was going to give me the answers to all my questions.
I felt like whatever I saw in that phone was going to hurt my chest, but I walked over anyways. I took his phone off the charger and held it in my hands. Hitta didn’t have his alerts showing on his lock screen, so I wasn’t able to see anything. I didn’t know the code to his phone, either.
I can’t tell you the last time that I’ve even been this close to his phone. Hitta protected that phone like he worked for the CIA, and whatever was inside it was classified information.
I tried typing in his birthday, but that failed.
I should have known that a sneaky ass nigga like him wouldn’t have made his birthday the code for his phone.
I even knew his mama’s birthday. I only knew because his mom had the same birthday as Nari.
That wasn’t his code either. I knew that I only had a couple of tries left before this shit locked up on me.
I really had to turn my brain on with this.
Hitta wasn’t the smartest nigga in the world, so he didn’t give me that he would have such a complex password. It had to be his birthday. He probably just rearranged the way that it was imputed. Instead of putting it in as the month, day, and year, I did it backwards. I did year, day, and month.
Bingo!
I felt like I just opened a vault, that had hundreds of millions of dollars inside.
My hands were literally shaking, and right when I was getting ready to go for his text messages, he walked in the room.
He saw me standing here with his phone in my hands, and there was a calm look written all over his face.
Even though he looked calm, I could tell that he was shocked to see me standing here with his personal phone in my hands.
“Ay, I’m telling you right now that if you go through my phone, you going to need Xanax when you done. Whatever the fuck you looking for, it’s right there. Just make sure you got a good therapist on speed dial,” his words told me everything that I needed to know.
Even though he said that to me, when he saw me take my eyes off him, and I used my finger to maneuver to his text messages, he still came over.
Well, he attempted to come over, and take the phone out of my hands, but I turned into spider woman, jumping across the bed, and I ran for the other side of the room.
It was Obsession that was texting him. He was so locked in with this bitch, that he had her stored under her real name, which was Joy.
The text messages that came in were images of different snacks.
She sent about four pictures of snacks, with a text message that read, “Can you pick these up for me on the way over? Me and the baby are craving these”.
When I tell you that my fuckin chest caved in when I saw that…. I mean it. I just asked this nigga not too long ago if he had a baby on the way with her, but he swore he didn’t.
“Give me my fuckin phone, bruh! Deja, what the fuck is you on, man? I just lost money. The last thing that I’m trying to do is chase you around for my fuckin phone.
Give me by shit back!” he ran in my direction, but I was quicker, running towards the bathroom, all the while trying to pull up other images because I was trying to see all the media that the two of them had been exchanging between one another.
I couldn’t lock the door in time, but I did see the media.
The bitch was indeed pregnant, and he knew about it.
I knew he was going to get the phone in a matter of seconds, so I had to quickly pull the images up, and look.
There were pictures of the sonograph. She had a picture of Hitta in bed with her, kissing her stomach.
I tried to open another video, but that’s when he was able to snatch the phone out of my hands.
In less than an hour, I’d managed to get my heart crushed twice.
“You trippin! Since when you go through my phone?” that was all he had to say in response to what I just saw.
I blacked out on him and just started swinging.
That sonograph picture, mixed with the picture of him kissing her on her stomach was plastered in my fuckin head.
I jumped on him, landing blows, and he was trying to restrain me, and keep me from hitting him.
I managed to get that stocking cap off his head and started pulling at his dreads.
If I could kill this nigga in here with my bare hands, I promise I would do it.
“Deja, chill the fuck out! Chill the fuck out, man! You wildin!” he was finally able to restrain my arms, and he slammed us down onto the floor.
My head hit the tiled floor extremely hard, but I had so much built-up adrenaline running through my body, that I didn’t feel how hard the crash was.
He got a hold of my arms, held them over my head, as he looked down at me with a busted lip, and other scratches on his fact, chest, and arms.
“I asked you if that bitch was pregnant, and you told me no!” I screamed at him. I was so hurt that I started crying.
“I didn’t know how to tell you, bruh. I swear I didn’t keep that shit away from you to be sneaky.
I knew it was going to hurt you! We just lost our baby earlier in the year, so I knew it was going to hurt you.
Me, and Joy not together. We got a baby on the way, but we not together.
You know fuckin well that you’re the only woman that I want to be with! ” he barked at me.
“I saw the fuckin pictures, Hitta. Imagine the shit that I didn’t see.
That bitch is texting you, telling you to bring her snacks.
You were about to go over there. It’s pictures of you kissing her stomach.
You are very much with that bitch. Stay over there.
Go be with her and have a family. I let you do a lot of fucked up shit to me over the years, but I won’t stick around for you having a baby on me. I’m done. Let me up,” I screamed.
“Man, you not going no fuckin where. You going to stay here, and we going to work through our shit like we always do. I love your ass too much to let you leave me, man. You can call that bitch right now, and she’ll tell you that I’ve never told her that I love her.
I swear I only be going over there, doing certain shit for her because I wanted to stay in her good graces.
I didn’t want her to tell you that we had a baby on the way, so I had to move smart,” he was lying to me. I knew he was.