Page 6 of Wasn't Supposed To Be Yours
“So, ya’ll are just fuckin then?’ she asked.
“Get out that man business,” June jumped in, putting his hand on her hip, as if he was trying to push her away.
“I just want to know because if it’s not that serious, then what’s stopping you from trying to get to know my sister?” she boldly asked me. That question made me laugh, pick my hand up, and scratch my head.
“Your sister made it clear to me that I’m not her type, and she not trying to fuck with me. I ain’t the kind of nigga to be stalking a bitch, and begging. If I’m not her type, and she don’t want to see the perks she’ll get out of life by fuckin with a nigga like me, then I’m not here to beg, and convince her,” I was honest.
Dionne was finer than a motha fucka, and everything about her from the top of her head to her feet had gotten my attention, but she made it clear to me in the past when I would run into her here and there that she wasn’t interested, so I was going to respect her wishes.
“Hmm. Your loss,” was all Free said before she turned on her heels, and she walked away.
June looked at me, cradling his baby in his arms that was dosing off, and he laughed.
“I feel like Dionne would stress you the fuck out in a way that’s way worse than Free could ever stress me out. Ya’ll different. Dionne don’t be on the same shit that you be on. You went legit, cleaned up your money, own some lucrative businesses, but you still a hood ass nigga at heart, and that’s where ya’ll going to clash. I just called your ass the other day, and you was in the hood, shooting scraps. Dionne not going for that hood ass shit. Fuckin around with her, she going to want you at expensive ass art galleries, and shopping trips in Paris,” he shared, and I laughed.
We talked about it for a little bit more, and then we went back over to the pavilion, so that we could all sing happy half birthday to Liberty. Once that was over, I slapped it up with my niggasthat was out here, gave hugs to the women that I knew, and I headed for the restroom, so that I could piss before I dipped.
Getting to the restrooms, it was about a thirty second walk. I went inside, handled my business, and I washed my hands at the sink. I used to the paper towels to dry my hands off, and as I was walking out of the restroom, Dionne was heading my way. Her head was down in her phone, texting away, so she didn’t see me. Because she didn’t see me, her ass walked right into me, crashing against my hard chest, causing her phone to go crashing onto the ground, and she looked up at me as if she’d just saw a ghost, once she realized who she’d bumped into.
At any moment, I could have backed away, or she could have backed away, but we stayed. She was looking up at me, while I was looking down at her. I hated that this woman was so fuckin beautiful, man. I talked all this shit, saying that I was going to leave her the fuck alone, but seeing her had thrown all that shit out of the window.
This was the closest that I’ve ever been to her, so I could feel her skin, and it was soft. She smelled good, too. I’m so used to being around women, and they all smelled the same. Don’t get me wrong, it was a good smell, but it was always the same loud, fruity shit that I was used to from a woman. Dionne smelled motha fuckin expensive. It was a grown, clean, sweet kind of smell coming from her. Not only did she smell good, but she looked good too. As if she was going to leave the party, and she had a nigga waiting for her to take her on a date. I loved overly girly women, so that shit didn’t bother me that we were at a birthday party that was taking place outside, and Dionne was prancing around in heels. I loved when women did shit like that.
“My bad. I’m sorry. I didn’t see you,” she spoke first, finally backing away, and she tried to bend down to grab her phone, but I reached down, picking it up for her, and I placed it in her hands.
She had an iPhone, with a screen protector on it, so no damage was done to her screen from the phone falling. I wasn’t surprised by the Hermès phone case, either. I expected that kind of shit from her.
“You good,” I was short with my response, and I could tell that she was surprised that I wasn’t trying to hit up on her like I did those two times in the past.
I’ve only been around Dionne twice. The first time was almost a year ago, when I saw her for the first time at the bar b q event that June had put on. After that, I ran into her when she was leaving her Pilates class. Her Pilates class was next door to one of my smoke shops that I’d opened out here, but I haven’t seen her out there since then. Knowing her crazy ass, she probably purposely stopped going to that location once I revealed to her that my smoke shop was next door. I didn’t put anything past her.
I was expecting her to walk off, but she didn’t. She stood here, staring at me.
“What?” I asked her.
“Your girlfriend is very pretty,” she responded, and I knew that her ass was trying to be funny, so I was going to be funny as well. Renee wasn’t ugly, and I don’t get the vibe that Dionne was trying to be funny in terms of complimenting Renee on her looks. I think she was trying to be funny in terms of trying to discover if that was my girlfriend or not.
“I appreciate it. That married nigga that you was fuckin… his wife is pretty too,” I threw out, and I could tell I pissed her off with that comment.
This was Miami. I did my digging. I asked around about Dionne, and I learned that last year, she was fuckin around with a married man, and his wife found out about it, pulled up on her at a restaurant, where she was having her birthday dinner, andshot her. I could be a petty ass nigga too, so I was just giving her the same energy that she was giving me.
“Fuck you!” she spat, giving me those two words that I expected her to say.
“When? Where? Let me drop her off, and I’ll pull up on you,” there was a smile on my face as I was saying these things to her, and my smile was only making her angrier.
“You wish. I’m sure I would make your entire year if I were to put this pussy on you, but too bad for you because it’ll never happen. I won’t even let you sniff it. Move!” she spat, trying to walk away from me, so that she could get to the women’s restroom that was behind me, but I blocked her path, not letting her go.
“Why the married nigga could get the pussy, but I couldn’t?” I was curious.
“That married nigga was taking care of me. You wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with a bitch like me. Move before I go find your bitch and tell her that your harassing me!” she shot.
“You told me when I first met you that you were the kind of woman to beg. I trick, so why them other niggas got a shot, but I can’t? Just answer that, and I’ll leave you the fuck alone,” I wanted to know. She tilted her head to the side and did this thing where she swiped her tongue on her bottom slip, and she sighed.
“How old are you?” she inquired.
“Thirty- five,” I was quick with my response.
“Well, there’s one reason for you right there. I’m thirty- seven. I don’t date men that’s younger than me. I also only date men that are fifty plus. That’s just my preference,” she replied.
