I opened the car door and slammed it before walking to the back side of the car. When I reached to pull the door handle, this childish mutha fucka had locked it.
“Open the fuckin door, Trey, and let me get my shit!” He cracked the passenger window enough to talk shit over the background noises of the city.
“Fuck no. You slamming my car door like you crazy and putting your hands on a nigga. I’m taking these gifts to my daughter! Fuck you!”
“Try me and see, don’t I beat you and your baby mama ass again! Give me my niece’s shit, Trey!” I tugged on the door handle even harder as if it would open from my strength alone.
“Hell no! Suck my dick!”
He yelled, and I hawked up enough spit to shoot through that crack in his window. Some of the spit landed on his face, and that made his ass mad enough to unlock the door. Only this nigga got out of the car and charged towards me.
“Yo, your goofy ass has lost your mind!” He stormed around the car.
“Don’t fuckin spit on me!” Trey grabbed me around my neck and started to tighten his grip on it.
“Don’t forget Crew in there, you fuckin dummy!”
I clawed at his arms before he let my neck go and stepped away from me.
“There you go again. Bringing up your big brother instead of handling your own fuckin business like a woman! You called my baby mama pussy, but you way more pussy than she has ever been! You need to grow up and get off your big brother’s dick!”
“Get off your mama’s, you fuckin mama’s boy!”
“Yo, keep my mother’s name out your fuckin mouth?” He grabbed me by my arms, squeezing them and manhandling me against the car.
“Let me go, Trey! Let me go!”
We were going at it so bad that I didn’t even notice anyone walk over to us.
“What the fuck is going on?”
Trey and I both stopped wrestling to see who was talking to us.
It was a dude standing there with a black kufi on so he must be Muslim. He was wearing a gold chain around his tatted neck that looked like it was worth millions.
This has to be the dude Amir that Pernelle talked about coming to the party. She said he would be Amira’s guest of honor, but she never mentioned how fine he was. I mean, damn, he had dark Caramel skin, a dark beard, with soft light brown eyes sitting behind some gold Cartier frames. He didn’t look like he was fully black, but I honestly couldn’t tell. Maybe he was biracial, or maybe he just has pretty skin. Either way, god damn was all I could think.
“Nigga, who are you?”
Trey asked, and Amir looked at me, ignoring Trey, who had finally let my arms go.
“You’re Jasmine, right?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Yo, Jas, who the fuck is this? Is he one of your niggas? This is why you were in such a rush to get inside that fuckin party?”
Trey grabbed me by my arm.
“How about you watch your words and your tone when you are talking to a lady.” He turned towards Trey, finally acknowledging his presence.
“Or what nigga? Who the fuck are you to tell me shit?”
“I’m Amir, and watch your tone when you talking to me, too. Who you feeling like nigga?”
Amir stepped closer to Trey, who tried to size him up and hold his ground. Trey thought he was the hardest person on his block, so he carried himself like that with everyone.
Trey started to laugh, obnoxiously.
