Page 24 of Ruger

"Ella lo siente." (She's sorry)

"Me importa un carajo." (I don't give a fuck) I spat. "She's only sorry because she fucking lonely and don't have nobody but your simp ass. You keep letting her sweet talk ya ass into paying her fucking bills if you want to."

"She's our mother, nigga."

"She's your mother and has always been just yours! That evil bitch wasn't shit to me!"

"A'ight, let's end the conversation."

"Best shit you said all night."

"I told her I'd talk to you. I did, and I see you ain't wit' it, so let's drop it."

"Yes, let's."

"You really need to take a load off. After we find this nigga, go on a vacation or something. Hell, maybe you need to talk to shorty since she's studying to be a psychiatrist." Jax laughed.

"Fuck you," I responded, producing a smile of my own.

I pulled up to April's house and got out. Before I could even get to the porch, the door flew open, and she stood in a red robe, smiling widely. I approached her, and she tossed her arms around my neck. I grabbed handfuls of her fake ass.

"I missed you," she purred once I kicked the door closed.

"Miss this dick, April. Don't miss me."

"You have such a way with words." She rolled her eyes. "Come on. I thought we could eat first since I know you haven't eaten today," she suggested, pulling me toward the kitchen. She was right. I hadn't eaten shit since yesterday morning, so a nigga was famished.

"I made spaghetti?—"

"I ain't eating that shit. Make me a sandwich."

"Why? I have you know, I make the best spaghetti. Come on, I want you to try it."

"April, don't make me walk back out of here. I don't trust that shit. Make me a sandwich."

"You are fucking crazy, Ruger."

"Nah, you crazy. Crazy enough to put period blood in that shit."

"I'm not even on my period, fool!"

"With the way you think, I'm sure you probably put that shit in a cup for later use."

"Whatever, Ruger." She moved to the fridge and began pulling out shit to make me a sandwich.

I checked my phone, hoping that one of my members got a lead on that pussy ass nigga, but the shit was dry. It took April almost five minutes to make my sandwich before she placed it in front of me with a bag of chips and a water bottle. She came behind me, kissing my neck and ear.

"Mmm, you smell so good. Hurry and eat your sandwich so you can eat me," she flirted.

"I ain't eating shit but this sandwich. I don't know why you like to play yourself, shorty."

"Why are you treating me like this?"

"Like what?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"You don't ever talk to me like this. You're acting all standoffish and don't want to eat my food when you love my food and acting like you can't eat my pussy."

"I don't see cameras around, so what makes you think this is an act? April, you've really been on one lately. I don't love your food. It's subpar at best. I only eat the shit to make you feel good, and I'll never eat your pussy because I don't like roast beef."

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