Page 7 of He Thugged Me First

Or would you have my replacement a speed dial away?”

I looked up from my phone at her, waiting for her to tell me what she thought.

“Why won’t you write a book, or go to that place for the slam? Your shit is lit!” Love mugged me like she always did. She was the only person who had ever heard me recite my poetry. I only trusted her to see those raw parts of me.

“You know I’m not like that, Love. Poets have a different vibe about them, like that chick Century that owns The Bliss. It’s a certain air.” I shrugged. I had no confidence in my poetry.

“You have that air. Maybe if you left Ka-ain’t shit alone, you’d be cool.” She rolled her eyes at the name she had come up with for him.

I laughed. “I have to. I think I wanna make things serious with Justice. He’s?—”

“Nice and artsy as well. He rhymes and you rhyme. Maybe y’all could have some lil’ creative kids.” She giggled.

“You know what? You need to tell me why you called me telling me you had something to tell me before I put your little comedian ass out.”

With a grin and a smirk, she rubbed her stomach.

I was confused. “The hell does that mean, bitch? Are you hungry?”

She giggled. “No, I’m pre?—”

“Nope, don’t finish that. That shit is contagious.” I shook my head.

“You know what? My baby won’t have a godmother, because you?—”

“Your baby? Bitch, that’s our baby. I’m not having any, so you’re carrying for the both of us. Now how many months are we?” I laughed and rubbed my own damn stomach.

She couldn’t even respond because she was giggling so hard. I was so serious though. I didn’t see myself having kids and all of that. I wanted to be the tipsy traveling godmother or auntie. Thatwas about it, especially because my little sister was six. Mazz and I took turns on raising her, and that alone was a job in itself. Mel was born addicted to drugs because my mother couldn’t stay off of them long enough to deliver a healthy baby. The day Mel was born, my mother died. She died giving birth, leaving Mazz to take care of her newborn and continue to raise me. Shit, I never even met my father, but I never longed to meet him either. Because whatever I needed, Mazz was there, and the same went for Mel.

“I’m three months.” She pulled the ultrasound from her purse and showed it to me.

I smiled, but then I looked her over. “How do you feel about it?”

“I don’t know yet. I don’t have a problem with being pregnant. It’s just that I don’t know what I have to offer a child. Shit, at this point, I’m still a child.”

“Uh, no you ain’t. You was old enough to pop it, then you’re?—”

“Mec.” She mugged me.

“You got this, Lovey. I have faith.” I put my hands together like I was praying.

We laughed and joked for the rest of the day until Quari called her, and she rushed out of here. The nigga must’ve said something nasty because she had hopped up and was telling me goodbye in the same breath she answered the phone with. They had been together for almost four years, and they were so damn cute.

My thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a phone. When I glanced at the phone, it was my brother requesting to FaceTime me. Of course I answered, but the face that greeted me wasn’t my brother.

“You did block me, huh?” Kasair asked with a mug. He looked angry, and I cared, but I couldn’t show it.

“Where is Mazz?” I asked, attempting to pay his tantrum no attention.

“Right fucking here. But this ain’t about this nigga. It’s about the fact that you playing with me like some lil’ ass nigga. Like I won’t end that nigga’s career and put him on an obituary.”

I laughed and shook my head. This was normal Kasair. When he didn’t get his way, he threw tantrums and threatened to kill people. I had no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t, but I damn sure didn’t feel like going back and forth with him. I didn’t even respond, I just hung up. I was finished getting bent out of shape over a nigga that wasn’t mine. Kasair belonged to the streets and all the bitches running them.

QUARI

“Told ya bitch ass to stop playing with that girl.” I mugged my boy.

“Ain’t nobody playing with Mecca. It’s Mazz’s fault. Nigga taught her morals and values.” He shook his head and tossed Mazz’s phone back on the bed. His bed was empty because he had gotten up to go to the washroom.

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