Page 40 of Kitty-Kitty, Bang-Bang

“Bitch, I don’t know who da fuck you think you is, you’ve been comin’ at me all sideways ’n shit since ya stuck-up ass got up in here. And I’m about ready to jump on that ass. You don’t know shit about me, bitch.”

“Booga, all you gotta do is jump, and we can make it bounce up in this muthafucka, trust.”

“Ohhhhhhmiiiigaaaaawd,” Chanel says, slappin’ the table wit’ her hand, “will you stupid bitches pleeeease shut da fuck up! I wish you bitches learn to get along. Both of you hoes are tryna fuck up my high. Damn.”

“Ho, you need to be talkin’ that shit to ya girl,” Hungry Jack says, glaring at me. “You know it’s whatever for a bitch like me. I ain’t one to keep lettin’ no skinny, stuck-up bitch talk greasy. Yeah, I’ma big bitch. But I hit hard, okay?”

I raise my brow, tilt my head. “Bitch, yabba-dabba-doo. You don’t really want it wit’ me, Barney, so shut da fuck up wit’ ya double-necked ass and finish eatin’ ya blunt.”

She stares me down, openin’ and closin’ ’er fists like she’s ready to bring da noise. I smirk, waitin’. The bitch rolls ’er eyes, but she keeps ’er ass planted in her seat. Once I see this ho ain’t really tryna bring it, I take my hand off the ice pick and pull out my emergency stash—three blunts packed ’n ready to go—I keep in a Louie eyeglass case. I take one out as I tell Chanel to hand me the lighter, then spark up. I take a deep pull. Hold it in for a few, then blow smoke out over in Hungry Jack’s face. I can’t stand this bitch, so now I’ma fuck wit’ ’er.

Lucky for ’er my cell rings. I fish it outta my bag, then glance at the screen. It’s Nut. “Hey,” I say, shiftin’ in my seat.

“Yo, what’s good, beautiful?” For some reason, a bitch starts grill-cheesin’ it up. “Yo, that was fucked up how you played me the other day.”

I laugh. “Oh, well. I told you what it was; shoulda got there on time.”

“Yo, whatever. I was five minutes late.”

“And now it’s ya loss.”

“Yeah, aiight. I see how you doin’ it. It’s ballgame, baby. The first chance I get to get at you, I’ma bust that ass up; real talk.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“Fuck outta here wit’ that. Yo, where you now?”

“Nigga, don’t be checkin’ for me,” I snap, takin’ another pull off’a my blunt. “The last time I checked I wasn’t da one ridin’ ya dick. You were five minutes too late, remember. And you damn sure wasn’t ridin’ mine.”

He laughs. “Here you go,” he says, lettin’ the shit go ova his head. “Whatever, yo. I wanna see you tonight.”

“Umm, don’t you have some dick hungry hoes to chase down?”

“Yeah, but I ain’t beat for ’em. I’d rather be chasin’ you. But I see you still wanna be on ya bullshit. You dissed a muhfucka, and you stood me up the night before that. You just keep playin’ a nigga to the left. But it’s all good.”

“Nigga, puhleeze.”

“Yo, stop fuckin’ ’round, Kat. A muhfucka’s tryna see you, so what’s good?”

I suck my teeth, rollin’ my eyes at Chanel for bein’ all down my throat. “Bitch, what da fuck,” I say to ’er, shiftin’ in my seat.

She gives me da finga. “Ohhh no, bitch, don’t try ’n get cute. Let me find out you got some nigga on da low I ain’t heard about.”

“Yo, who’s that in the background?” Alex asks.

“Nobody,” I tell ’em, takin’ another toke, then blowin’ out the smoke. “Just sum nosey bitch tryna be all up in mine.” Chanel gives me da finga again.

“Oh, word? What, you smokin’?”

“Yeah, sumthin’ like that.”

“So, what’s up for later? I told you I’m tryna see you. So what’s good? You think you can squeeze a muhfuck into ya life, or do I gotta keep beggin’?”

I grin. “Let me think on it. And I’ll hit you back.”

“Yeah, aiight. I heard that shit already. Don’t front on me.”

“Nigga, whateva.” We go back ’n forth a few minutes more wit’ me tellin’ him I’ll hit ’im back later tonight, then disconnect.

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