“I mean… she is his baby mama,” Viggo piped in.
Henna swung on him with venom in her eyes after yanking the passenger door open.
“You want to walk home?” she challenged.
“I’m just saying.” Viggo pulled on the back passenger door as Prischa climbed into the driver’s seat.
The leather was cold, so she immediately turned on the seat warmer after starting the engine.
“And you just about to be patting and turning these damn corners if you get in this car defending her.” Henna cut a menacing glare at her cousin before getting into the passenger seat.
“Yo, run me by the store, so I can grab a bottle and some shells.”
“Only if you sharing with us.” Prischa glanced at him through her rearview mirror.
“Man, fuck, Pri… a nigga trying to get his dick wet tonight. That was the whole point of coming out.”
“Word on the street is none of your bitches even fucking with you, Viggo. They all know about each other and linked up to burn all the shit you left scattered around their homes and in the cars you drive. You really are a fucking scrub.” Henna turned to him from her seat.
“Fuck you!” Viggo flipped her the bird. “These bitches get dick and maybe a Big Mac from me. They lucky if I let them hit my fucking weed.”
“I don’t know how you ain’t got ten kids and twenty baby mamas by now.” She shook her head as Prischa backed out of her car space.
“Shit, I ain’t no lover boy, first of all. I be fucking.” He brought the blunt he’d been smoking on in the club to his lips and sparked it. “Niggas be out here whispering sweet nothings, paying bills, and leaving money on the night table. Fuck that! Bitch, get this dick with the latex, and I’m taking my shit with me in case she try to trap me.” He inhaled and held the smoke in his longs.
“You’re trash!” Henna declared.
“Yo, Pri, don’t let that shit with Heavy get to you, mama. You fine as shit, got a job, and your own spot. Plus, you only got one kid and no baby daddy drama. The right nigga gon’ find you.”
“You’re so ignorant.” Henna shook her head. “You think it’s that easy when you’re in love with someone? She’s supposed to forget all the plans they made, how he made her feel, and all that other shit?”
“If she wants to move on and open herself to something new. The fuck is sitting around, thinking about him gon’ do when he clearly made his choice. He been clocking that girl since she blew into town all them years ago, and he always had love or Pri, but being with her wasn’t for him.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Prischa demanded.
“It means you ended up in the friend zone, and it was never supposed to go beyond that. You know Heavy. That nigga don’t cuff bitches. He stick and move. For one, you was his ace’s girl,” Viggo pointed out.
“Pierre been gone for years, Viggo.” Prischa sighed.
“Loyalty ain’t got no time stamp, Pri. Looking out for you and fucking you is two different things. In Heavy’s eyes, you’ll always be Pierre’s girl. Shit don’t feel right, but he was willing to give that shit a go for you. Because he does care about you, believe it or not. Just not how you want him to.”
Heavy had said all the same things in so many words, but for some reason, hearing them from Viggo put things into perspective for her. Henna glanced at her friend as she cruised the Southwick streets with a pensive stare. She’d tried to break it down for Prischa, too, but she knew it was hard when a woman wanted what she wanted. It was easy to be caught up and consumed by a nigga when you loved him, and that was whether the feeling was mutual or not. Shit was borderline obsessive. Prischa pulled over when they reached the liquor store and parked in the lot. She left the car running and sat with Henna while Viggo went inside.
“I don’t want to come between you and Heavy, Hen. I know you love your brother. You do not have to go to bat for me like that.”
“Why not? You’re my friend, too, and I don’t think it’s right how he’s treated you.”
“Heavy never lied to me about what we were,” Prischa admitted. “It was all in my head. What I wanted for us. I kept trying to force him into this cookie cutter life with me and Pierre, and that’s not even who he is. Before Pierre died, I told him repeatedly, I didn’t like him in the streets all the time. I was always scared and waiting on that phone call until the day my nightmare came true.” She sniffled and thought about the police showing up on her doorstep to let her know her son’s father had been gunned down.
It was the worst moment of her life. Pierre was barely three years old and had no memories of his father because of that.
“Hey, it’s okay if you’re not over that.” Henna reached for her and rested a hand on her shoulder. “Anyone would still be traumatized.”
“Yeah, but Heavy was able to help me through that. He was the one showing up making sure me and Pierre were good. I couldn’t get out of bed; my son was neglected. Your brother really stepped in, and then you, too. You held a mirror up to me and showed me what I was doing to myself. I’d lost weight and didn’t know how to put one foot in front of the other. I took Heavy’s kindness as more than that, and I clung to it for all these years, thinking it was something else. The fact is, your brother is just a good man, no matter what anyone says.”
“He’s a good man, but he’s not fucking perfect, Pri. Take him off that pedestal,” Henna encouraged, giving her shoulder a squeeze.
“Yo, the homie Oz leaving the club,” Viggo informed them, climbing in the back seat with a plastic bag filled with what he called his party pack.
