“Yeah, cause the whole hood done probably fucked,” Bunny jested.
“Only if they paid for it.” Chell wagged her tongue. And just like that, they were on to the next subject.
Me personally? I heard what everybody was saying. I also could hear what wasn’t being said. Chell probably did have some underlying esteem issues. And perhaps those issues had her projecting. And that meant that she probably didn’t care for me, for real. I was just of some benefit to her, so she wouldn’t go too far with her subtle hate. Either way, it was cool, because I didn’t consider Chell a friend. She was Soya’s associate, and I liked her kids. Particularly her daughter. So, she was tolerated.
Nevertheless, eventually the sun had gone down, and Soya was talking about heading in to get ready for the night. Nobody had made a move, because a group of guys had pulled up in different cars, and were posted up down the sidewalk. The girls were tossing around names, but I had only vaguely heard of a few of the dudes, and that was primarily through my brother.
Apparently, these niggas were supposed to be some big deals, and everybody on the porch sounded like some damn high school groupies. I could tell the these were hood famous individuals, as a crowd had gathered around the men, and several of the local nobodies had come out of the woodworks to dick-ride.
Not being a hater, I had to admit that they’d pulled up in some nice ass cars. “I gotta say, that Bentley is pretty damn nice.”
“Hell, yeah,” Soya agreed. “That Bentley is the fucking truth. That’sFace’scar.Bigdick,ballingassnigga.TheniggaIwas
telling you about. The one that came into Jack in the Box, ordered a combo, then let me have the change from a hundred. Made my day. With his fine ass.”
My eyes scanned over the guy who was leaning against the Bentley. He was taller than everybody else, so he stood out, but he was dressed plainly in a t-shirt, basketball shorts, and Gucci slides. From what I could tell, he looked to be a nice peanut butter brown, both arms were sleeved up in tattoos. So was his neck and bowlegs. He didn’t have on a piece of jewelry and looked like he robbed muthafuckas in his spare time.
“I know you aint talking about that dude that’s leaning up against that Bentley,” I commented.
“Yeah. That’s him.”
“That muthafucka looks like a purse snatcher.” Everybody laughed.
“Nawl, that’s a million-dollar nigga, right there,” Casey chimed. “I grew up with him. How you don’t know him?” She cut her eyes at me.
I shrugged. “I just don’t.”
“But QT be scoring from him and you never met him?” Soya questioned.
I frowned. “That’s my brother. Not my nigga. Ion keep up with his business dealings.”
“Well, Face isthatnigga,” Chell spoke up. “And if I ever get a hold of ‘im, then it’s over for these bitches.”
Bunny laughed while crinkling her nose. “Over how? Girl, niggas with money like him only fuck with pretty bitches. The most you could do is fuck. And that aint hardly shutting shit down.”
Chell rolled her eyes. “Like you could do better.”
“Oh, I definitely could.” Bunny winked, before she stood up, and switched off the porch.
We all watched as she sauntered up to those dudes, and began hugging everybody, one by one.
“Anyways,” Soya yawned.
I arched a brow. “So, you aint walking over there too?” “Nope.” She popped her lips. “I’ma leave that up to Bunny’s
hot ass. If them niggas is choosing, then they can speak up. No need for me to go smiling in their faces.”
Casey nodded with a smile. “I know that’s right, my girl. If these niggas like what they see, then they’ll speak up.”
Soya nodded. “Exactly.”
Well, it was evident after a while that those niggas weren’t worried about choosing. Even when it came to Bunny. She’d gone over trying to talk to the Face dude, and within minutes several groupie niggas had trampled all over her, wanting to interact with ole boy. I guess Bunny eventually realized that her flirting mission had failed, and she came flouncing back to the porch.
Everybody’s kids were now playing directly on the sidewalk in front of our porch. Amongst the four girls, they had nine kids. Soya had one. Casey had three. Chell had three. And Bunny had two. Casey’s twelve-year-old was the oldest of the bunch, and was cussing like a sailor.
Seemingly not giving a damn, Casey sat scrolling through her phone, while her other two kids were throwing rocks at each other. “I’m hungry,” Cass, Soya’s son, announced, as he stepped onto
the porch. “Did you cook yet, Babi?”
