Page 69 of Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

I don’t look at ’im. I stare straight ahead. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s in your eyes. The way you look at her. It’s in your tone. The way you speak about her. Your energy is filled with hate toward her.”

I turn to look at ’im. “So what’a you, sum kinda psychic witch doctor?”

He laughs. “No. But I am a man who knows hurt and pain and disappointment when I see it. I can spot it and feel it a mile away. Besides, we’ve all had our share.”

“So is this where you offer me a buncha self-help tips? ’Cause if so, I’m not interested.”

“No, but I would like to offer you some advice if I can.”

“You can’t. Not interested in that, either. So do me a favor. Let it go.”

He smiles, puttin’ his hands up in the air in mock surrender. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Oh, trust. I’m not upset; just not interested.” I glance at my watch. It’s already three in the mornin’. The thought of drivin’ back to Jersey gives me a headache. I decide I’ma wake Chanel’s ass up and stay the night at ’er spot. I shift my attention back to Juanita. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish havin’ my private moment wit’ my mother before I leave.”

He smiles. “Miss Rivera, you’re a very beautiful woman, but this hate you have in you is eating away at your soul. Let it go.”

I take a deep breath. Slowly turn my head in his direction. “Oh, trust. I will.” I turn my head back to Juanita. “As soon as I pull da plug.”

TWO DAYS LATER, I PULL OUT THE KAT LINE TO SEE IF THERE ARE any updates, but before I can turn it on, my otha cell starts ringin’. It’s another 347 area code. I sigh. This crazy bitch!

“Bitch, why da fuck is you still callin’ me? Didn’t I stomp ya ass once already?”

“Bitch, this ain’t Rosa. It’s Patrice. And you ain’t shit for how you been movin’ ho.” Sounds like she’s cryin’, but I don’t pay it no mind.

“Ohhhhhkay, thanks for ya kind words. Now why is you callin’ me?”

“Bitch, not that you give’a fuck, but I thought you should know Rosa was killed last night.”

Good. One less bitch I gotta deal wit’, I think sittin’ on the edge of my bed. I was wonderin’ when Cash was gonna put that work in for me and put that bitch down. My mouth starts to water wit’ anticipation wantin’ to know all the details of how she got put down. The freaky bitch in me wants to slip ’er hands down in ’er panties in play in my pussy as Patrice gives me the details. “What happened to ’er?”

“She was on ’er way home. They think somebody tried to rob ’er, but when she didn’t have shit, they shot ’er in da head.”

“Did she suffer?”

“No, police found ’er dead at the scene.”

That’s it?! That’s all you gotta say? I wanna know if there was blood and brain splattered

e’erywhere. Was the bitch sprawled out on the concrete? Were ’er eyes rolled up in ’er head?

I keep my morbid thoughts to myself. “Anything else?”

“No,” she pauses, soundin’ like she’s snifflin’ ’n gettin’ all emotional ’n shit.

“Poor thing,” I say, all nonchalant. “Well, thanks for that news bulletin. Now if you’ll ’scuse me, I have more pressin’ things to deal wit’.”

She screams into the phone. “Bitch! I’ve lost two fuckin’ sistas back to back. Ya moms and aunt, and that’s all you have’ta say. ‘Thanks for da news bulletin’? Bitch, are you fuckin’ serious? They are ya blood!”

“Sweetie, be clear. Those are your losses; not mine. So I ain’t sheddin’ no tears, and I ain’t passin’ out no sympathy cards. So if that’s what da fuck you lookin’ for you betta call Hallmark.”

“Bitch, ain’t nobody call ya ass for no muthafuckin’ sympathy. I don’t even know why da fuck I called ya fucked-up ass, anyway.”

“And neither do I. But I tell you what. You might wanna hol’ off on buryin’ ’er ’til after I pull da plug on Juanita. This way you can dump both trash bags down in da same ditch. No sense in havin’ to go through all that shit twice.”

I disconnect the call, then check my messages on the Kat line. There are two.

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