Page 11 of Hellcat Barbies: Imani
“You five minutes late,” he says when I walk into the back office.
“Never that. A late man is no man at all,” I fire back, repeating what our grand would always say. He hated being late to anything.
“What about last night?”
“I wasn’t late. I didn’t show at all because I got stabbed, remember?”
“Stabbed. What happened?” Hazel asks with concern.
“That nigga fine,” Brick says.
“It’s a flesh wound. Some bitch ass nigga caught me off guard after I laid his ass out. I’m cool.”
“Well, shit. Where were you?” she asks as I head to my desk.
She’s sitting behind her desk and Brick is in front of her. I place my leftovers in our mini fridge then sit behind my desk. After sanitizing my hands, I open my bowl.
“At the C-Mart over there by The Falls.”
“Oh, so you went to Malachi?” she asks, referring to the doctor on the Powers’ payroll.
Malachi actually owns a townhouse in The Falls where Imani lives. Apparently, he was some top surgeon before he got addicted to Ketamine. Fucking around with the pills, he lost everything, his home, his family, his license and his job at the hospital. When we have medical emergencies and we don’t want to alert the police, we go to Dr. Malachi Green. He gladly accepts pills for payment.
“Nah. It wasn’t that deep. I didn’t need Malachi.”
“Oh good,” Hazel says.
The buzzer to the main entrance sounds and Hazel stands. I glance at the handheld on my desk. A few of the girls are at the door so Hazel goes to let them in. I say grace and dig into my bowl. When I lift my eyes, I see Brick glaring at me.
“What?”
“You tell me, nigga. What really happened last night?” he asks.
“Bruh, I got stabbed. Real shit.” I stand and lift my shirt to show his skeptical ass. His eyes widen when I do.
“Fuck! When you said no Malachi, I didn’t believe you.”
“Nigga, fuck you. I don’t have to lie bout shit.”
“It looks closed. What’s up with that?” he asks.
Imani was right about wetting it because I did and I didn’t have any bandages at the crib to cover it back up after my shower so it’s exposed. I’m straight though. It’s closed tight, doesn’t look irritated, and it doesn’t hurt. Honestly, I was straight last night. He barely got me. I just wanted to go with her and let her do what she wanted to patch me up.
“The nigga was pushing up on a lady when I walked in. He was thirsty and all up on her. So, I checked him.”
“As you should’ve,” he says, nodding.
“Facts. Nigga lost his mine and tried to step and I stalled on his ass. I saw Imani’s fine ass and I got stuck. He took the chance and tried to stab me. She cleaned me up and closed it.”
“Imani? You know her?”
“I know her now. She took care of me.”
“Nigga, it don’t even look that deep. Imani must be fine.”
“Fine as hell and pretty. She’s a surgical tech so she knew what she was doing. And check this, she drives a hellcat. That shit gutted out and everything. She’s bad.”
“Must be. You missed the dinner.”
