Page 14 of Wasn't Supposed To Be Yours
I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the shit that she was going to talk once she realized that I was going to have to sit next to her.
Because my uncle Roy was sitting at the head of the table, I went ahead, and approached him first, since that would be easier. The second I made it to him, he stood up, and he slapped hands with me.
“What’s good nephew? Your ass knew to pull up and see my baby perform. She was going to stop fuckin with you, just like she threatened everyone else,” my uncle Roy said the second that I made it to him, and I started laughing.
I loved this man. He was another father figure for me. Growing up, he didn’t have much either, but what little he did have, he would try his hardest to help my mom out with me. Him, and my auntie Shawn weren’t together anymore, but they co- parented well, even with their kids being older, and they made sure to always show up for them.
I went around the table, giving hugs, and while I was doing that, I could feel eyes on me. I looked over in Dionne’s direction, and she was the one that was staring at me. She did a nigga so fuckin wrong. It’s like she knew just as much as I did that, I was going to have to take the empty seat that was next to her, and she had this crazy ass look on her face, like she would much rather sit next to a serial killer, than to sit next to me.
Seeing that I was going to fuck her night up by sitting next to her, caused me to smile, as I swaggered my way over toher, pulled the chair out, and I took my seat. The second I sat down, the MC for the night was coming on stage, and he was introducing the next artist. It wasn’t my cousin though. She wasn’t going to be up for a few more minutes. During that time, I wasn’t even about topretendthat I was looking at Dionne. Fuck no! I was going to be bold about my shit.
I was sitting next to something that was so motha fuckin fine, and I was going to stare at that shit confidently. I sat in my chair as if I owned it, arms crossed, eyes on her, waiting for her to get so pissed off at me, that she had no choice but to turn her head.
You could feel when a person was staring at you, so the moment was going to eventually come.
It came. When it did, it came with an eye roll, her sucking her teeth, and she shot her head in my direction, looking fed up with me.
“You don’t strike me as the kind of person that would be into open mic,” she spat.
Now that she was looking at me, I had the perfect view of her face. Her make-up was done, and that shit was flawless. It made sense now why she’d chosen to wear red heels, with a red bag. It’s because she’d done a red lip with her make-up look. I had a dark-skinned mother, and just like Dionne, my mom was very girly, and over the years, I’ve heard my mom complain about not being able to find the proper foundation colors to match her skin. I didn’t have a clue in the world what brand of foundation Dionne was wearing, but that shit blended so beautifully on her. Her face and neck were the same color.
“I’m not. My little cousin going on at 10. Everybody sitting at this table is my family. You moving kind of fast, don’t you think? Damn baby. Let daddy take you out on a date first before you start meeting my family, sitting with them and shit,” I fucked with her, just to get up under her skin like I would whenever I came around.
She snarled at that, and I watched the way her eyes left mine, and they danced around the table, looking at everyone.
“Don’t flatter yourself. When I got here, they had me all the way in the back, so I asked them if I could sit closer. This was the only spot that was available,” she defended herself.
“Yeah, yeah. Tell a nigga anything,” I responded.
She didn’t respond. She just put her attention back on the stage, and we watched the artist that was on. It was a guy, and he was up there reciting a poem that was titled, ‘Bitches ain’t shit’. That nigga was up there spitting! I don’t know what bitch he was fucking around with in the past that broke his heart, but from the pain, and the hate that was in his voice, as he gave reason after reason why bitches weren’t shit, you could just tell that there was a woman out there that had done a number on his ass.
Some of the shit that he was saying, I agreed with him, but I swear to God I didn’t nod my head at it, snap my fingers like some people were doing, or make any kind of sound because again, I was sitting next to some fine shit, that already pretended to hate me, so I didn’t want her to think that I agreed with this nigga hollering about bitches not being shit, even though I did in a sense.
I could tell that Dionne was really into poetry though. I was one of those dudes that knew how to pick up on everything, and I immediately noticed how locked in Dionne was, as she listened to the man on stage spit. She had her elbows on the table, her chin was propped up on her hand, and her eyes were fixed on him in a way like no one else was in the room. Even though some of the shit that he was up there saying about women was a little degrading, it was power in his words, he had a nice flow going on, and the way he was able to rhyme with his words was tough.
Dionne would nod her head when he touched on some key points, as if she felt the things that he was saying. I could tell that this wasn’t just a casual night out for her, and something that shewas dragged to like I was. She thoroughly enjoyed it, which is the reason she’d gotten all dressed up tonight for it, and did what she had to do so that she could be in the front.
He finished on stage, and Dionne snapped her fingers along with everyone else in the room, giving him his applause.
“You agree with him? You think bitches ain’t shit?” I asked her, now that he was off stage, and music was playing again. It was about two more minutes until 10:00, so I knew that my cousin would be up next.
“I think he was just telling his story. Speaking from experience. A woman put him in his feelings like that,” was her response.
“That’s not what I asked you though. Don’t run from the smoke. Do you think bitches ain’t shit?” I asked her again.
“I’m not answering that because it will turn into a bias debate. You already know the answer to that question, but you want me to give you an answer that you already know is different from yours, so that we can get into a debate about it. What I will say is that men ain’t shit either,” she sassed, right before she picked up the glass of wine that was sitting in front of her, and she took a sip from it.
Dionne had these black, velvet gloves on her hands, so when she picked the glass up, she made that shit look so classy.
“And that’s the answer that I was looking for. Something told me that you were going to somehow bring niggas in the mix of this question. I don’t hate women though, love. Just like you have some trifling ass niggas out here, I believe that there are bitches out here that are just as trifling. Sometimes, men and women aren’t shit,” I replied, and she laughed at my response.
“Will you fall into the niggas ain’t shit category? This is the second time in the past two weeks that I’ve been around you, and your girlfriend isn’t with you. Where is she?” she asked me, and I smiled at her question, while pulling on my beard.
“You proving my guy right that just left the stage, love. That’s the shit that he was just on stage hollering about. One of the things that stood out to me in his poem was that women love to make up stories in their head. It don’t matter what the truth is. Ya’ll going to run off your own version, and what somethingfeelslike to ya’ll. I already told you at the party that that wasn’t my girlfriend, yet you keep telling me the version that you feel is right, and what you want to believe,” I said, and she nodded.
“I’m not sure how much you know about me, but I grew up around a lot of men. I know the way men move. Family, and friends mean the most to a lot of men, and it’s something that they keep sacred. You mean to tell me that that’s not your girlfriend, yet you brought her into an intimate setting? You expect me to believe that?” she asked.
“Dionne, what I get out of lying to you? I ain’t fuckin you, so I don’t have a reason to lie to you. If I said she ain’t my girlfriend, then she ain’t my girlfriend. Does anything about me give that I’m the kind of nigga to sit around explaining myself twice? I ain’t going to do too much convincing my love. I like what’s sitting in front of me. I like the way you look in that dress, so I can make an exception for you. I’ll call her right now, and put the phone on speaker, so you and I can both hear her say that she isn’t my girl. You want daddy to do that?” I asked, dead ass serious.
