Her putting her finger in my face is about to get her in a world of trouble. I take a deep breath, because I'm really trying to remain calm.
I don't think she knows just how close she is to getting the shit beat out of her. That's why I knew that this girl didn't know me from Adam, because people who know me know that I don't play with these hands. I mean who the fuck comes up to confront you about bumping them in a crowded-ass club? By then, Keish and Tasha have come over to the scene this bitch was causing, trying to see what the hell was going on.
"What's up, Sash, you gotta problem?" Tasha asks, looking back and forth from me to light skin.
"Naw, I'm not the one with the problem, ole' girl is," I calmly say, pointing to the mystery woman.
The next thing I know, I'm seeing stars. That bitch swung, hitting me square in the eye; I was stunned.
Quickly regaining my composure, I hit her with a mean right that connected with her chin, causing her to stumble a bit. I follow up with a series of punches that land her flat on her ass, dazed and confused. Taking my gaze off of her for a minute I notice Keish working the fat hoe that was with her, while Tasha was damn near stomping someone I assume was her other friend. Those couple of seconds gave light skin the time she needed to get back up on her feet and steal me in the face. Jumping back, she posted up and threw a quick left but missed. I didn't when I followed up with a jab that busted her lip.
I was trying to rearrange her fucking face; I don't play that shit! She had punched the shit out of me, and I wanted her ass to pay for my pain, cause that shit really hurt.
She was trying her best to hang, and I can honestly say she was giving me a run for my money. What she didn't know was that I also like to wrestle; she quickly found this out once I got a good grip and body slammed her. Hearing the security guards rushing through the gathering crowd, I quickly climb on top of her and get in as many licks as I can before they break up the fight.
Of course I didn't get too many in, because before I knew it, I was being lifted up in mid-air and carried to the front door kicking and screaming.
My hair was all over my damn head and the neck of my sweater was stretched out due to her pulling on it. I'm so fucking embarrassed, because this is not me at all. Fighting in the club is for these hood-rat-ass hoes, and trust me when I tell you that I'm far from one of those. I mean I get down if need be, but I don't go around fighting like I did when I was a teenager. Back then all you had to do was look at me wrong and I was getting in yo' ass like hemorrhoids! I'm grown now with a daughter and a husband at home; I got too much class!
Like Adele Givens says, "I'm such a fuckin' lady!"
We were tripping the whole ride home about the drama at the club, trying to figure out what was up.
Neither one of us could see what this bitch was so mad for. It was puzzling.
"She cold-cocked the shit outta yo' ass, man!" Tasha cracks, moving her arms like ole' girl. "She was like, bam!"
"Yeah she did, but she got what she came for when I tore dat ass up!" I say, getting pumped all over again.
"Fuck what y'all talking bout, that fat outta-shape bitch made me lose my damn earring," Keisha pouted.
"Do you know how much those bitches cost?" Not waiting for our reply, she continued, "Seven hundred mutha'fuckin dollars, I should tell you to turn around so I can beat her ass again. I really liked those earrings."
"Don't worry bout it, cuz; I'll buy you another pair.
Fuck them hoes," I tell her. Looking into the rearview mirror, I see her in the back seat cheesing like a Cheshire cat. When she saw me looking, she put back on a serious face. I laugh at the fact that I fell right into her trap. "I can't stand yo' ass!"
"What?" she asks innocently, and we all bust out laughing. She knew that if she pouted long enough, I'd buy her another pair; these hoes knew me too well.
I dropped them both off and I was finally home to face Raimone. He hated it when I fought, and when he was around, he did his best to stop me from getting angry. He knew that I was loose cannon, due to the fact that I've snapped on him a time or two. Either way, I didn't feel like hearing his damn mouth. All of the lights were off outside, so I figured he was sleeping. Boy, was I wrong. He was wide awake, and by the look on his face he noticed my eye. All I could do was hold my breath and wait for the storm.
Chapter Three
Naitaisha
I knew I would run into that bitch one day. I just didn't know it would be tonight at the club. I tried to knock that hoe's head clean off her body! Waltzing around the club like her shit don't stink. What the fuck ever! My lip's busted, I got a migraine out of this world, and a couple of scratches on my face--but it was well worth it. She fucked my do up--ole' hair-pulling-ass bitch! The only real thing that I'm salty about is the fact that I couldn't do her dirty like I really wanted to. That ole' none-fighting-ass hoe, gone slam me. What type of shit is that? Who the hell did she think she was, a fucking pro wrestler? Seeing that she couldn't go head-up with me, she had to try something different.
Those big dumb security guards put a damper on my plans. She was lucky I couldn't get to my knife quick enough, or she would've been sliced the fuck up! Yeah, they say you can't bring weapons inside the club, but they ain't as smart as they think they are, cause I damn sho did! All the perverted security guards do is check women's purses and run a hand-held metal detector across the front of our bodies, stopping a little too long on our titties. I'm so much smarter then they are, though, because I put my small knife in the crack of my ass-with it being so big, no one notices a thing.
It's funny, 'cause she has no clue who I am. I honestly don't give a fuck if she does; I'm tired of sharing. I've been playing second-fiddle to her for the past three and a half years, and I've grown sick of it. He at home with that bitch and their daughter every night. While I'm with our daughter, tucking her in by my damn self.
I bet that bitch really think she got something special, which I know for damn sure it ain't. What she don't know is that while her daughter just turned two, mine's was almost three.
Yep, that's right, I got his first child. My daughter's name is Raimona LaShawnte Ford, just like her daddy.
Ha-ha, bitch! You can look crazy all you want, but I don't give a damn! You don't know what the fuck I been though, so who are you to judge? You're probably sitting on yo' damn couch reading this, eating chips and shit without a care in the world.
Because you're gonna be all up in my business, I might as well be the person to share it with you. Just to make sure you get the right version of the story, and not the bullshit!
I am Naitaisha Latriese Bolen, and I am 22 years old. I'm 5'5", 120 pounds, and I consider myself a dime. I'm the color of butter, have small upslanted eyes, a slender nose, and thin lips. I have really small breasts, only wearing a 2B. But where I lack in one department, I make up for in another. Let me just put it like this, my measurements are 32-20-40. That's right, I have more than enough ass to go around and if you don't think that's good enough, I got some bomb-ass pussy! My best feature is my fire-red hair that hangs down the middle of my back; yes, I'm a bad bitch!
So why am I sharing a man, you say? I couldn't even begin to tell you. I guess I'm a fool for love, if that's even a real thing. Let me start from the beginning, so maybe you can see my position more clearly.
I met Raimone a little less than four years ago on a hot August day, at a basketball game in the hood. When I first saw him I really wasn't impressed. I mean he was a cutie and all, but I wasn't the type to fall all over no nigga. Well, anyways, when the game was over, he strolled over and asked me if he could talk to me for a minute. After I told him that he could, we chit-chatted for a while as he walks me to my car. He told me his name and a little bit about himself. I told him a couple of things also, and we decided to exchange phone numbers.
We talked on the phone a few times, getting to know each other a little bit more. I learned that he was a hustler, which I kinda figured anyways; I can spot one a mile away. Then he went on to