Page 82 of Save Room for Us

“Anyway, you just gon’ let mini grandma take your man?” Bianni inquired, which I found odd considering she was older than Anastazia for sure. And she looked it, whereas I only knew Anastazia was older because stuck-up ass Leeci referred to her as her older sister, and I was close to Leeci in age.

“Wait, ain’t she the one who like shot or killed her man or something?” Jalia pointed at me.

“Oh shit! That bitch is going to jail, cousin! You can’t let her take your man and have him holding her down while she’s locked up too.” Bianni shook her head, painting my nails.

“I mean, yeah, I guess, but do y’all honestly think she’s gonna be convicted? The abuse photos looked pretty bad. He was fucking her up,” I said, ridding myself of the slight sympathy I felt for Anastazia as quickly as it came.

I too thought she was lying at first but after deep diving on the internet, my mind had begun to change.

“I don’t believe her ass.” Bianni scoffed. “Them pictures look like photoshop or AI or whatever the hell they use these days. That bitch wanted a new nigga, probably Asif’s ass, and tried to get rid of her man so she could do her.”

“Yep, and wanted that insurance money to go with it,” Jalia hypothesized.

“That seems a little far-fetched to me, y’all. And Asif is rich as fuck. Why would she need money? Couldn’t she just leave old boy if she didn’t wanna be with him?” I posed.

“Milan, I love you, but you’re naive as fuck if you believe that girl was getting beat on by that man. His own family and even her coworker said she was lying, mixing up stories, and all kinds of shit,” Bianni answered.

“Her coworker, who is now pregnant by said man? Why would she be on Anastazia’s side? Of course, she’s gonna say that shit,” I reasoned.

“Girl, I know chicks like her who will have you believing they’re getting beat and it ain’t true. They be putting good niggas in jail and graves, all for money and a new man.” Jalia shoved some gum into her mouth. “Court gon’ see through all that, though, and she gon’ be behind bars, penning letters to Asif.”

As she and Bianni burst into laughter, I shook my head subtly. I was heartbroken and didn’t find the shit funny. I’d lost count as to how many times I’d listened to and belted along with “I Don’t Wanna” by Aaliyah.

“Wait, isn’t her lawyer Bashar? Damn, he is fine.” Bianni licked her lips as she thought about him, while working on my nails. “How she afford him? I’m just now realizing he that lawyer these hood niggas love. He charge racks just to Google shit.”

“Yep, because I fucked a nigga who hired Bashar, and that nigga said he wouldn’t even answer the phone until he wired him one hundred bands.” Jalia whistled to say that was a lot of money as Bianni bucked her eyes.

“He’s married to her sister, so he’s doing her a favor,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Nah, his wife pussy ain’t good enough to miss the kind of money he usually makes with a case.” Bianni shook her head, refusing to believe. “He doing it ’cause she paying him with that life insurance money.”

“You only get the life insurance if the person dies, Bianni,” Jalia replied, finally making some sense. Bianni shrugged it off.

“I guess,” I said, not wanting to talk about it anymore. If she went to jail, that would be perfect for me. I wished her ex had have beat her until she stopped breathing because I wouldn’t have to worry about her ass now.

“So what you gon’ do to get Asif back?” Bianni questioned.

“Let him go, I guess. What can I do? He threatened me and told me not to come back.” I sighed. “He’s not the type you can convince to change his mind. He’s bullheaded, and once he has made a decision, it’s final.”

Though I loved Asif, I hated how callous he could be. The only hope I had was Anastazia would see his inability to accept and give love, then choose to move on. I was made for Asif and willing to heal him, making him see not all women were like his deadbeat mother.

“Well, get on them dating apps then, sis, but just know he won’t be nothing like Asif.” Jalia had to rub it in. “Guess I gotta lock down a Compton on my own.”

She and Bianni barked out laughs as if this wasn’t serious right now. I was losing the love of my life.

And Jalia was right. I’d dated other street niggas, and I could easily say Asif was one of a kind. He was smart, savvy, hood, but still a gentleman, and like I said before, could fuck like he enrolled in school for Pussy-ology. That was hard to find. Usually, the gentlemen were too vanilla and soft, and the hood niggas were too rough, a little dumb, and didn’t see life past hustling.

“For real! How you gon’ help me when you can’t help yourself?” Bianni furthered the laughter with her comment, but when she saw my face, she let it cease, telling Jalia with eye contact to quiet down.

“What should I do?” I humbled myself to ask, though I didn’t want to. I was desperate though.

“I would suggest just whupping that bitch’s ass, but I think that will only upset him.” Bianni thought for a moment. “You need to do some shit he can’t resist like making his favorite meal, dressing sexy, and offering him something he won’t ever forget.”

“Like a threesome,” Jalia suggested, and Bianni nodded.

“No, hell no. I’ve shared him with enough bitches and only made it because I wasn’t witnessing the shit. I can’t imagine having to watch. I will lose my mind.” I grunted. “That wouldn’t do shit anyway. I already let the nigga do what he wants.”

“Remember that time we went out to the club the same night she let that nigga fuck her in the ass?” Jalia laughed.

---