Page 13 of Anything Necessary for Her
“She can think what she wants but she know what’s up. And how much does Stazi know?”
“A lot, but she’s Mrs. St. Thomas. I know you not comparing some bitch you cracking to the mother of my kids and my wife.”
“Nah. Not even.” I chuckled because I couldn’t see Gaia being anybody’s wife. It was shocking enough that she had a longtimeboyfriend who she cheated on every time I wanted her to. “I ain’t worried though. She start acting crazy, I’ll murk her. I’m fucking her, not loving her.” I took the bottle to the head since it was clear Asif was done.
Only reason I even smashed Gaia was for those lazy nigga times when I wanted some pussy but didn’t feel like jumping through hoops for it. Gaia was right there, willing, and had good enough pussy, making it convenient for me to slide up in that in the back room then take my ass home.
Throwing his hands up in mock surrender, he said, “Aye, it’s yo’ shit. I’m legit now.”
We snickered as I stood up to slap hands with him before walking him out.
I shut everything down once Asif was gone before hopping into my whip and heading to my crib. It was about a forty-five-minute drive with no traffic which was a long ways away.
The whole ride, Banks kept popping up into my fucking head, and I didn’t know why. I also didn’t like the shit.
From one interaction, she’d gon’ from the big homie’s baby sister, who I never gave a second thought to, to one of the prettiest women a nigga had ever laid eyes on. She had this classy ass sex appeal to her that I wasn’t used to. I’d witnessed it on unavailable women like Anastazia, Yolani, and Couture, where a nigga could admire the shit from afar, but never one that was semi-available.
Most of the bitches I fucked with were hood, freaked the fuck out how I liked, and were only sexy when in their birthday suit. I wasn’t used to a woman turning me on in fucking leggings and a graphic tee like Banks wore that afternoon she and her homegirl walked into the backyard.
Regardless, though, she wasn’t an option, mostly because I wasn’t the nigga she was looking for—I wasn’t like her fucking brothers. I used bitches for one thing and wouldn’t know howto conduct myself in a relationship if my muthafuckin’ life depended on it.
I’d never known love, and the closest thing a nigga had to it was the friendship I had with Asif and Free. My main focus was getting to the money and caring for my family. A woman like Banks would want a nigga like her father or some shit, and I couldn’t be further from that.
Lastly, I had too much respect for Banks herself and Asif to mess with her knowing how shit would go. As far as her other brothers, no disrespect, but I didn’t give a fuck about how they felt or what they wanted. I respected them out of my respect for Asif, but that was about it. If I wanted Banks, I wouldn’t give a fuck about how any of them niggas felt about it. Asif was the only one I would feel like I was betraying over that shit, and that was something I couldn’t and wouldn’t do. Especially when all I would do was hurt Banks, turning her cold for the nigga who would actually do right by her.
Wasn’t that how shit went? All the scorned women were just former good girls who gave their hearts to the wrong nigga and therefore struggled to accept true love from the right one. I only knew because I’d been the wrong nigga before, and though it should’ve made a nigga feel fucked up to see a woman bawling over me, I couldn’t make myself care, no matter how hard I fucking tried.
Banks was too precious to become that, especially behind me. So betraying Asif and breaking his sister down just wasn’t the fucking move.
Walking into my crib, I expected the house to be asleep but found my younger brother Wyatt on the couch.
“Where is Ma? Waverley?” I queried, referring to our mother and baby sister.
“Both back there knocked out.” He huffed, leaning forward and pressing his forearms into his knees.
“Why you still up? You got school tomorrow, nigga.” I locked the door.
“Nah, I don’t. Them stupid muthafuckas suspended me.” Wyatt shook his head, acting like he was a grown ass man instead of sixteen years old.
“For what?” I barked. His jaw twitched as he thought about it, like he was deciding on if he wanted to tell me that shit or not. “I said for what, nigga!” I popped the back of his fucking head.
“Aight! Some nigga was talking shit, so I beat his ass and picked his fucking pockets!”
Plopping down on the couch, I shook my head, exasperated.
Lately, Wyatt had become problematic as fuck. He thought he was grown and wanted to be like what hethoughtdrug dealers were. All he saw were the knots of cash, big houses, nice cars, and street infamy. He didn’t understand the dread behind that shit. The life sentences either to a prison or to a fucking cemetery.
“How long?” I asked, refusing to look his way just yet.
“Two days and you gotta sign some paper. Ma be too out of it and think everything is a scam, so she won’t sign it.” He handed off the paper to which I snatched.
Studying it, I shook my head again before grabbing the pen off the coffee table and scribbling my signature. My mama had been an alcoholic for so fucking long that my siblings’ schools conducted business with me as their guardian.
“Here. I gotta find some shit for you to do while you home.” I stood.
Wyatt ascended as well, frowning all hard, so I knew he was about to say some fly shit.
“Why can’t I come work for you? This school shit ain’t for me like it wasn’t for you!”
