Page 61 of Anything Necessary for Her
Since I’d been in the field with women, none of them had ever had an effect on me. I could move how I wanted, and so could they, and I would sleep soundly at night. I never gave a fuck if they fucked with me, liked me, none of that shit, especially once I hit. So to be this sick and fucked up in the head over a woman, and one who hadn’t even given me any pussy, was strange as fuck for me.
Ashing the blunt, I spritzed some breath spray before climbing out of the whip. I’d realized after toggling between all the pros and cons in my head that being without Banks would be worse than any fucking type of attack I could ever endure.
Inhaling heavily, I hit her doorbell, hating that she could see me from the comfort of her bedroom on her security app. Like I knew, her soft but annoyed voice poured through the speaker instead of from behind the door.
“Why are you at my house?”
“I wanna talk, Peep.”
“And I don’t. There is literally nothing to talk about.”
“I didn’t even fuck them bitches,” I admitted, knowing the old Low would have his lip curled at how bitch-made I sounded and over a woman.
“Sucks for you. You blew up what we had and didn’t even benefit from it. How dumb.”
I chuckled mirthlessly, trying to extinguish the irritation building from all her smart ass comebacks and insults.
“Banks, come open this fucking door ’fore I knock ya shit off the hinges.” I kept my voice cool and collected, but I was dead fucking serious.
“I wish you would!” she barked back.
Saying nothing else, I kicked the shit out of her door roughly and consecutively, ignoring her hollering, threatening, and chiding me to get me to stop. Teeth sinking into my bottom lip, I kicked that shit harder and harder, breaking its resolve with every hit.
When it sounded like the door was close to snapping, it flew open.
“Keep playing with me.” I barged in just before hearing heavy, quick patterned footsteps, making me whip around to see her burly detail rushing up. “She good, nigga. Don’t get clipped.” I slammed the door in his face.
“Get out!” Banks snapped.
“No. We ’bout to talk, and I suggest you tell old boy outside to relax, or it’s ’bout to be a shootout, and yo’ people gon’ know what’s up.” I descended onto her couch after grabbing a water bottle from her counter.
She watched me in bewilderment for a beat, then started typing away on her phone. She stared at it, and when it buzzed, signaling a reply, she stormed over to me and slammed her phone down on the coffee table.
She was in one of those short ass nighties, only this one was a darker pink than one she’d worn before. Her hair was still down, and she smelled so fucking good.
“What do you want, Low?” she queried, sounding exhausted.
“You.”
Shaking her head, she looked away briefly then focused back on me, eyes softer than they were when I approached her at Waverley’s dance class.
“I’m not that girl.” Her head shook definitively, green and honey eyes still locked on mine. “I don’t let men play games with me and fuck me over, then think because they’re apologetic, all is forgiven. I don’t want to train you or teach you. It’s one thing to be ignorant to relationships and willing to learn, but it’s a whole nother to intentionally hurt me.
“I may be only twenty-two, but I’m still grown as hell. Not to mention I come from a family of men who have shown me how a real man conducts himself and acts for a woman he wants seriously. Even the formerly shittiest niggas like my brother Cemone or Khari. Because of that, no man can convince me that I need to struggle and go through fire with him to get my happily ever after. Being a faithful, good man is not some impossible fairy tale you niggas try to make women believe it is so that you can force them to accept your less than stellar behavior or lack of finances. So if that’s what you’re looking for, a woman who willride for you through your bad behaviors and mistreatment, leave me alone.”
“It’s not.” I shook my head. “I had a bad night, Peep.”
She scoffed and glanced off before looking over at me again. “You say all this cryptic shit, Willow, but unless I know exactly what you’re dealing with, it all sounds like nonsense and excuses to me.
“Look, I don’t want to pressure you to do anything you don’t feel compelled to do on your own, Low. And I won’t accept these antics from you simply because you’re going through shit. You either get your shit together and talk to me, or we need to go our separate ways. Also, getting your shit together doesn’t mean continue to fuck up while I sit by and smile. It means clean the shit up before you come to me.”
I nodded obediently, turned on, impressed, and in awe at the same fucking time. I was also nervous as fuck.
“I don’t really talk about home shit with anybody, so this is new for me, Peep.” I stared down at my hands, fidgeting for a beat. “Most people know I take care of my family and am somewhat a parental figure for my siblings, but nothing really extra.”
“Right.” She scooted closer to me, and when her soft lips graced the scar on my cheek from the night I hit my mother, my lids shut unintentionally. Like clockwork, my skin spiked all over from her touch. “Tell me.” She took my hand in her small ones when I reopened eyes, turning away some out of shame since they were misted over.
“Ever since I was like nine and a half, ten, my mama has been an alcoholic—a bad one. From the time she brought Wyatt home and then some years later Waverley, I’ve been more of a parent to them than her. When I was younger, she was abusive, verbally and physically, but I got used to the shit. She slowed up when I got older, and even more so when I started paying all the billsso she could stop pretending to want a job and drink all day like she preferred.” I exhaled. “She started getting back comfortable, though, so here and there, she will hit me. Back then, she used her fists and sometimes a belt. Now it’s heavy ass objects which is, I guess, due to my size.”
