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“A female?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it that therapist bitch.”
“I don’t know who the therapist bitch is. All I know is that he’s been telling me shit about being with ol girl and staying at her crib and her being at his place too. I also heard she was having a baby.”
My neck snapped toward him.
“She's pregnant?”
“That’s what I heard.”
“Damn, that bitch is pregnant and sick?” I turned my nose up.
“Sick? That bitch got aids? Wait, you got aids too, then?”
“No dummy, I didn’t say she had aids. I was there when she told him she has lupus.”
“Oh damn, that’s tough,” Crew replied, rubbing his chin hair.
“That makes sense, though.”
“What does?”
“Why he spends so much time with her and runs back to her every time she calls. Shit, if Pernelle was pregnant and had a sickness like that, I’d probably be the same fucking way about her.”
The way he tightened his grip on the steering wheel let me know even imagining Pernelle sick made him uncomfortable.
“But anyway, I don’t know what to say about that whole situation. Shorty got leverage on his ass. But just because you can’t have Amir, or Hov, doesn’t mean you need to go find another dumb ass nigga to deal with in the future and have another baby by.”
“No shit, Crew. Fuck niggas right now and having their babies too.” I replied, shaking my head while laughing lightly at the irony of my own words.
You would think that I learned my lesson about keeping children from men after all this mess, but truthfully, all I wanted right now is peace. I don't have energy for baby daddy drama from three different men at this point. Plus, learning that Amir was about to have another kid by another woman just made this shit even messier than it already was.
When Crew’s phone started ringing through the speakers, he held a finger up toward me, signaling for me to be quiet while he hit accept on the call from Princeton.
“Talk to me.”
“Yo, yo, where you at, big bro?”
“Riding over here in Brooklyn. Taking my sister to Royal Chicken. What’s poppin’?”
“Shit, I got something important to tell you.”
Crew sighed.
“On a scale from one to ten, how important is it, nigga?”
“I think it is at like a ten to be honest. But just get back with me when you can talk.”
“If it is a ten, I can right now. Where you at?”
“Castle Hill.”
“Aight. Stay put, I’m on my way.”
He hung up before glancing over at me.
