Page 14 of Krash & Bern

Idk about all of that, but I’ll let you know when I’m otw!

I tossed my phone on the counter and prepared for a night out. I wasn’t a heavy partygoer, but I wanted to have a night to let loose and hang with the guys.

The house was lit from the outside. The LED lights bounced off the windows. There were a few people outside on the porch, smoking blunts and talking animatedly. I knew the inside would be packed from the number of cars lined up on the street. Mentally, I had to prepare for the crowded room of intoxicated college students.

I locked the doors of my car before I stuffed my keys in my pocket and walked up the path to the front door. A few people who recognized me from campus spoke as I made my way into the house. Gary told me he and his homeboys were posted up in the kitchen when I asked where to meet him. The trek to the kitchen included me maneuvering through the sea of drunk bitches trying to get my attention. Women on campus knew Bern was my lady, but many of them didn’t care. They assumed I wasn’t shit like the rest of the niggas they were used to fucking with.

“Yo! I thought you were gonna flake,” Gary joked as I came into view.

“Man, I wasn’t gon’ do shit else today, so I might as well had pulled up and seen what the kickback was talking about.”

I dapped up everyone in the room as Gary introduced me. Blake was a light-skinned dude with braces and dreadlocks. Deionte was a dark-skinned dude with a low-cut fade and a chubby build. Nehemiah was a nigga with sponged curls and a regular build. He had a goatee and wore baggy clothes. I could tell he was into underground rap and art by his appearance. I grew up with niggas who looked like him.

“What y’all sipping on?” I asked.

“We on that D’USSÉ! Make a bitch do what you say!” Blake stated with a smirk.

I chuckled. “Nigga, you a fool. I ain’t trying to talk to any of these bitches.”

“You got a bitch holding yo’ nuts?” Deionte asked.

Gary’s friends were vulgar as hell. I didn’t think any of them had uttered a word without a curse sprinkled into their sentence somewhere. I had a potty mouth, but it was nothing compared to what these niggas had going on.

Gary cackled. “He does. He thinks he gon’ marry the girl, but she got him moping around like a bitch. I told him he needed to make some friends, or his dick was gon’ fall off from the level of bitch he been acting.”

“Man, get the fuck out of here,” I warned. “It’s not like that at all.”

“What’s it like?” Nehemiah asked. “We might act ignorant, but we really do have some deep insight on shit.”

I didn’t feel like opening up to a bunch of strangers, but I knew Bernice’s lack of awareness in our relationship would fuel my anger, so the smart thing would have been to unload on the group of men.

“It’s not much. My lady’s been in my life at every emotional time I’ve had. We a couple years apart, but on an education level, she’s years ahead. She graduated high school the same year as me, but she was only sixteen when she got her diploma. I didn’t want to have a romantic relationship with someone so inexperienced, but she gets me better than any other woman I’ve ever been with.”

I broke down the last couple weeks to them, and they all nodded their understanding. They each offered me advice, but I wasn’t really trying to hear anything the niggas had to say on a relationship none of them were a part of.

“I appreciate y’all for being listening ears, but a nigga ain’t come here to wallow about his lady. I came here to get drunk and enjoy some good vibes. We on that?” I asked.

“Fa shit sho!” Blake agreed.

“Shot o’clock!” A girl came into the kitchen holding a bottle of Don Julio.

“Fuck it!” I waved her over, and she held the bottle out for me to take. With a tilt of my head and a lift of the bottle, the clear liquor slid down my throat and burned as it traveled down my system.

“Fill my mouth,” she instructed in a seductive tone.

“Tilt your head, beautiful,” I replied. She did as I ordered, and I placed my hand on her chin. The bottle tilted, and she gulped down every drop of liquor.

“I’m Camille,” she introduced.

“Krash.”

She hummed. “Your mama named you Krash?”

I chuckled. “Nah, but that’s what everyone calls me.”

“Why?”

“It’s a long story, baby.”

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