But that shit didn’t mean I was gon’ sit here wonderin’ who was in her face, what niggas was lookin’ too long, if she was drunk, if she was good.
Truce said she was used to bein’ the man.
I’d just decided I was done lettin’ her play that role with me.
If she wanted to fight for control, I was right there.
‘Cause one thing about it… I’d rather be obsessive than absent.
And she was gon’ feel that either way.
I sat there a minute after the call ended, phone face-down on the desk, jaw tight.
Truce’s words kept spinnin’ in my head.
She used to bein’ the man and the woman.
She don’t know how to fall back and be soft with a nigga that’ll actually hold her down.
He wasn’t lyin’.
Soon as we touched back down in the city, she went right back into that mode...Pullin’ back. Takin’ forever to answer.
Actin’ like tellin’ me where she at was some big-ass favor.
I could’ve left it alone.
Let her have her “girls’ night,” pretend I ain’t care.
But that ain’t me.
I grabbed my phone, opened our thread again.
Me: Send me the name of the place.
Seen. No reply.
She thought if she ain’t say it, I wouldn’t know.
Bet.
I hit Truce up.
You know what lounge Charlee be at downtown?
He took a minute, then text came through.
Truce: Booker’s Lounge Downtown.
Me:Bet.
Truce: Don’t start yo crazy shit, bro
Me: Too late.
Bookers was only fifteen, twenty minutes from Club 4 Play. I could’ve had somebody slide for me to check the vibe, and text me updates.
I didn’t want updates.
