Page 33 of Deep Throat Diva

OhmyGod, please don’t tell me she told Felecia more than this. “Oh, really,” I say, trying not to sound anxious. “Did she say anything else?”

She shakes her head. “Nope; just for you to call her when you can. Hopefully, she got the rundown on that muthafucka so we can find out who the hell put him up to that shit. I shoulda knocked all of his fronts out, coming in here with that bullshit.”

I roll my eyes, waving her on. “Girl, let it go. His ass ain’t even worth it. We have no time getting caught up in some ignorant ass nigga’s shit. As long as he doesn’t bring his ass up in here with that shit again, I could not care less who sent him here. Fuck ’im.”

She tilts her head; eyes me, furrowing her brows. “So let me get this straight. You mean to tell me you’re not the least bit curious about who put that nigga up to it?”

“Exactly.”

“Hmmph, you’re good. ’Cause I’d wanna know.”

“Then what?” I ask, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. But the truth is this conversation is not only making me uncomfortable, it’s starting to give me a pounding headache.

“Then I would have that nigga handled.”

“Well, I don’t have time for that.”

“No, but that’s what you have a man for—to step to that nigga for comin’ outta pocket.”

“Wrong answer,” I say, putting a hand up on my hip. “Jasper does not need to be getting caught up in no dumb shit. There was no harm done, so he’s not to hear anything about it,” I warn, pausing. I eye her for effect. “Agreed?”

She puts her hand up in mock surrender. “I’m just sayin’. He—”

I put my hand up to stop her. “Not. A. Word.”

Alright,” she says, shaking her head. “Not a word. Still, I think he should know.”

I sigh. “Sweetie, this is not about what you think; it’s about what I need you to do—to have my back. So, let it go.”

“Okay,” she says, dusting her hands off, “done.”

I smile. “Thank you. Let me know when my appointment gets here,” I tell her, walking back to my office. I try to keep my steps slow and steady. One foot in front of the other, seemingly unnerved. But the truth is I am a fucking wreck!

I shut the door behind me, racing to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I need an apple martini—no, scratch that…a damn bottle of tequila, I think, opening my medicine cabinet and grabbing my bottle of extra-strength Excedrin. I pop two in my mouth. Swallow, hard. Then make my way over to my desk, plopping down in my chair. I pull out my cell, scroll through my address book, then dial.

“Hey, Miss Pasha, girl.”

“Hey, girl,” I say, mindful to not call her Big Booty since I can’t ever remember her name. “Felecia told me you wanted me to call you.” I hold my breath.

“Yeah, I wanted to let you know that I ain’t forget about tracking that nigga down for you.”

“Oh, girl, don’t even worry about that. Like I told Felecia, let that shit go. The nigga can’t block my flow. I’m still standing, still making moves, so fuck his bitch-ass.”

“Oh, I know that’s right. But, still…that disrespectful nigga needs to be handled for how he came at you. I got my goonies on alert. And when we figure out who the fuck he is, and where he rest at, he’s gonna get got.”

“Listen, chile. Don’t. Just leave it alone, please. I don’t want you or anyone else getting caught up in shit that ain’t that serious. I appreciate you having my back, though. But please, drop it…”

“Are you sure?” she asks.

“Yes, very. It’s done and over with.”

“Well, okay, then. It’s dropped—for now. But, if the nigga comes through again…”

“Then his ass is gonna get lit the fuck up,” I finish for her.

“That’s right. We gonna pop that ass like a firecracker. Oh, wait…Day’Asia, get yo’ sneaky ass back up them goddamn steps fo’ I beat the dust off ya black ass,” she snaps in my ear, talking to her fourteen-year-old daughter who is almost as wild as she is. “I don’t give a shit what that nigga said, I said take yo’ ass…Bitch, did you hear what I said…girl, I gotta go, this little nappy-headed heifer tryna raise up on me like her pussy’s bigger than mine…”

“Go…” the line went dead. I sigh, looking up from my desk. Felecia is standing in the doorway, leaning up against the frame with her arms folded.

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