Page 130 of Anything Necessary for Her
I had a feeling, though, that Trayvon learned the fucking hard way that I wasn’t a nigga to say shit twice, and I always followed up on whatever the fuck was said.
After dropping off that Tahoe, I made my way home, brushed my teeth, and hopped in the shower. By the time I’d gotten out, Banks had texted me.
Peep: I’m in the mood for chicken and waffles.
Me: I got you. I was about to get food for the kids though so you mind?
Peep: Of course not. I prefer them over you.
Me: Didn’t sound like it last night. Made me feel like I was a daddy for real with the way you was yelling that shit.
Peep: Bye, Low.
Me: We going to eat. Get Wave.
Wyatt: Aight.
I chuckled, thinking of Banks’s last text, before locking my shit up then going to throw on a blue Nike T-shirt, track pants, socks, and slides. After brushing my hair a bit, I ventured into the living room to see Waverley and Wyatt were already on the couch, ready.
I checked on my mama who was knocked the fuck out, an empty bottle near the bed. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting out of her latest rehab stint, considering the last time she went, years ago, it didn’t work either.
We filed into my Maybach, letting Waverley play deejay for the night, even with Wyatt protesting.
I texted Banks that I’d arrived, not wanting to leave my siblings in the car while I fetched her. However, when she neared the whip, I climbed out to open the door for her.
“My bad. I couldn’t leave them,” I expressed before I kissed her.
She only shook her head to say it was cool, a smile on her perfect face.
She was wearing a tight ass dress, something she often wore on chill outings, but it looked like some runway shit. She, of course, smelled heavenly, wearing the jewelry, sandals, and purse I’d bought her, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make a nigga feel some type of way seeing in her in shit I’d cashed out on. I’d bought enough on that one shopping trip to last her a year straight.
Her long hair was clipped up in the back, water-falling over the clip since it was too long, and her dark skin looked pliable with a glow to it like always.
I shook my head in awe after closing her door, listening to her greet my siblings happily.
We ended up at Roscoes, and I noticed Banks eyeing every girl that spoke to me. I dapped up the niggas I knew before having them seat us at the back.
“I hate popular niggas.” She somewhat jested, elbowing me in the side as we sat across from Waverley and Wyatt in discussion about what they planned to get.
“Only in the hood, Peep, and I can’t help it. Nobody knows a nigga past the hoods of Los Angeles. I’m far from famous.” I kissed the side of her face. “I only want yo’ attention though.” I spoke against her ear, not missing the small intake of air she took just before I kissed the shell of her ear.
“What are you gonna get, Banks?” Waverley asked, brows furrowed as if this were a serious decision.
“Get whatever. I’ll pay.” Wyatt spoke up just as the waiter came over to take our orders.
“Hey, Low.” She beamed, eyes darting to size Banks up some.
“Sup. Get their drinks first.” I directed her to Banks and my siblings.
“Where yo’ brother?” Another waitress floated over, stopping at Banks’s side and smiling inanely.
After ordering her drink of choice with the first waitress, Banks looked at the one nearest her, asking, “Which one? I got a lot.”
I chuckled at my girl’s smart comment.
“Shit, any of ’em,” another girl—a patron—said from her table.
“Facts.” The waitress giggled as I put in my drink order with our actual waitress.
