“Oh, I see you,” Face commented, as he stepped into the bath-room and popped my ass. “Got the curls popping and shit.”
“Right,” I absently agreed, as my mind was racing. It was way too much going on, all at once. “But I’m on the phone. So, let me wrap this call up.”
“Nah, fuck that.” He shook his head. Frowning, I tilted my head. “Face, for real?”
“Hell, yeah. Ion give a fuck about that nigga. Just in case you was confused about that.”
My eyes traveled down to my phone. I was sure that Too Low was still there, talking to himself.
I took adeepbreath,before lookingupat Face.“So,I can’t
finish this call?”
“Yeah, you can. But I’m not finna be quiet for you, or some shit.”
I cynically laughed. “You’re being a real asshole, right now.” “Nah, I just need you to stop lying to me and yourself. Aint no
way that you and that nigga are as solid as you claim. Cause if it
was like that, then he would’ve known about the whole car situation. It would’ve never gotten to the point of you showing up here. Something aint right with the picture, and that sounds like ayouproblem. I’m not finna hide for no nigga. And that’s on you, if you gotta explain yourself to a muthafucka with a bedtime.”
Knowing that the collect call had about six minutes left, I had to think fast. “Look, whatever. Let me close this door. I gotta use it.”
He didn’t move an inch. “You lying like a muthafucka, but you got it.”
He turned and left out of the bathroom, closing the door behind himself. Reactively, I locked the door, before unmuting the phone.
“Hello?”
“Man, yeah. What happened?”
“I just realized that you was muted.”
“Oh, alright. I’ma let you finish doing what you do. And I’ll call you in a few hours, when I think that you back at home.”
“Okay.”
“Alright. Love you.”
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, wondering what the hell was I doing. “Love you too.”
Face was seemingly determined to cross every boundary. One minute I was supposed to be paying of a debt, and the next he has me moving around the city publicly, knowing that I was in a committed relationship.
Then the nigga had the nerve to bring me to a midtown rooftop restaurant that was owned by his friend. Admittedly, the place was nice and the food was bomb, but it was apparent that his boy was from Acres Homes, because the patrons’ faces were a bit too familiar.
Then I couldn’t even make it seem platonic, as he opted to sit right beside me, while the kids were across from us. Like I was his fucking date.
Needless to say, I was on edge, and was sipping a strawberry mango margarita mixed with Don Julio to calm my nerves.
“Babi, how that drink tastes?” Face questioned, as his arm was thrown across the back of my chair.
“It’s good,” I told him.
“Let me see.” He grabbed my drink and took a sip from the straw.
Sitting there, I stared at the side of his face. Cause that mutha-
fucka had just really helped himself to my drink. Like he was my man or some shit.
