Bottom Bitch Page 5

  ***

  Wherever we went, he had connections, so we didn’t have to go through all the long lines. We headed straight to the VIP. I looked around to scope out the scenery. Females looked on with jealousy in their eyes; probably wishing that they were in my position. I stared back at them with a devilish grin on my face that read, ‘too bad, I’m the chosen one.’

  The night turned out better than I imagined. Alijah’s friend . . . ha ha . . . that high priced hoe deserved a standing ovation for her performance. I saw right through her ghetto ass. You should’ve seen the look on Alijah’s face; it was definitely a Kodak moment. I had to give it to him, he had upgraded from the regular hood rat that he usually slept with. Being a lawyer helped me to smell the bullshit from a mile away. Every word that came out that bitch’s mouth was a damn lie.

  I almost busted out laughing. When that hoe heard me say I was his wife, her eyes popped open like she just smoked some crack. I really rubbed it in when I shoved my big ass diamond in her face.

  Chapter Six

  Sierra Rogers

  Alijah had been calling non-stop for the past couple of days. I tried my hardest not to pick up the phone. Even though I was hurting, I didn’t want him to think for a second that I was one of these dumb ass bitches out here.

  As much as I tried to stay away from Alijah, that didn’t last long. I was missing him more and more, so after playing hide and seek for a week, I decided to pick up the phone. I was excited to hear his voice, but I read him his rights and didn’t let up any. He listened quietly without interrupting me not once. After I finished, I gave in and told him I was missing him.

  We decided to meet up in an open area. Not that I was scared of him or anything, but you never know. When I pulled up, he was already waiting on the bench. I had on a pair of tight stretched jeans with a skintight tank top. He kept his eyes glued to me as I strolled toward him. Yeah, he miss me, I thought.

  “Whaddup, ma,” he greeted me and gave me a hug.

  I leaned my head against his shoulder. He smelled masculine; I loved that about him –– a strong, sexy man. His freaky self then cuffed my ass with his hands and pulled me closer to him. I’m not going to front; it felt good. He better stop before I fuck around and get a quickie on these benches.

  We talked for about an hour. He kept apologizing for his actions, he told me the truth about his actions, and he told me the truth about his marriage. He’s been married for four years, but he was not in love with her. I took in everything he said, and I might be a sucker for love, but I believed everything he told me. We ended up going back to my apartment and talking some more. For some crazy reason, I broke down crying in front of the nigga. I shed more tears than Niagara Falls. He held me in his arms and kept wiping my tears. At that moment, I totally forgot those hours ago I was fuming with anger.

  Our bodies were in cahoots. We were both in need of some good loving, so we wasted no time. We fucked and sucked for hours. We rested, got back up then got right back at it again. I forgave him the second the dick entered my pussy.

  I made my mind up that I was going to fight for my man. She might be married to him on papers, but his heart belonged to me. I wasn’t going to give up that easy. Everything in my life had always been a challenge; this was no different. I was going to get my man back. She could play wifey, take care of home, but I was his Bottom Bitch.

  We ended up staying in for a couple days. I called in sick even though Charles knew I was lying. He called his boy to handle business. We had food, weed, and alcohol, but most important, we had each other’s love. If this was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up.

  Alijah Jackson

  “Son, I’m tellin’ ya, I peeped that shit the other night. Yo’ ass was busted, plain and simple,” Darryl said, laughing.

  “Mm . . . that’s crazy though. Sierra was s’ppose to be at the crib sleepin’. I was shocked she was up in the club, especially Bojangles. Then did you see the way she was starin’ Shayna’s ass down, as if she was ready to beat her the fuck down?” I responded.

  “Nah, son! She was ready to fuck you up. Baby girl looked like Laila Ali. You better watch yo’ ass.”

  “Nah, son, that bitch know better than to put her hands on me,” I replied with cockiness.

  “Yo’ black ass was sweatin’, ready to piss on yo’ self. I thought I would’ve had to come over there and save yo’ ass from distress,” he continued with his antics. I sure wished this nigga would shut the fuck up; instead, he kept on clowning. “She a bad broad, too. Where the hell you found her at? Shayna mental ass gon’ kill you.”

  This time, Chuck and Dre joined in on the laughter. I was tight, but I wasn’t gon’ let them see that.

  “Yo mi a bad man. Mi ‘ave e’eryting unda control. Trust mi, I got dis brethren,” I said in my raw Jamaican accent that only came out when I’m angry.

  I finished shooting pool. What was supposed to be a guy’s night out turned into me leaving. Any other time, clowning on each other was aiight, but tonight, I wasn’t feeling it.

  “Yo, fellas, I’m out. I’ma holla.”

  “Word, son, it’s like that?” Dre asked.

  “That’s what it is bruh,” I responded before I headed out the door.

  It was fucked up how I handled my dawgs, but they were on joke mode, and I wasn’t. I had a lot on my mind. Shayna’s nagging ass was threatening to get a divorce, which wasn’t a bad idea. I was ready for her ass to bounce up outta my life, so I could live a little.

  Sierra kept ignoring my calls. I even went to her job, but she managed to duck me. I needed some type of order with these bitches. They needed some act right, and I was the nigga, not the other way around.

  ***

  It was Wednesday night, and I was bored out my mind. I decided to head to a little spot over in the South. I could chill and relieve some stress in the process. I smoked a blunt before I pulled up to the Paper Moon Titty Bar. They had some of the baddest bitches from all races.

  I walked through the door and headed straight for the bar. I ordered a bottle of Grey Goose with grape juice and went to my favorite spot in the back. I peeped that they had a full house. I had been in here a few times, and each time, it seemed like as soon as I walked in and the dancers saw me, a money machine sign went up in their mind. I wasn’t stutting them though. I was here to see one person. I reminisced on how I met her a month ago. She was doing her thing while niggas were hollering at her from left to right. As she flashed a couple of them, I just sat back and enjoyed the show, until I saw her wink at me. I nodded my head to show I recognized her.

  After the performance, we hooked up in the Champagne Room AKA the fucking room. Shorty was like that. I found out her name was Luscious. That name fit her just right and did me justice ‘cause I left out of there a well-satisfied man.

  A light skin chick was doing her thing. I threw a few dollars. Luscious was up next. She came out in a two-piece, pink maid costume. She put an extra twitch in her walk knowing she had me and all the guys paying full attention. My wood was on full alert. If she wasn’t a high priced hoe, I’d take her away from all the other eyes and make her my personal hoe, but I had enough on my plate. Plus, she seemed like the type of broad that would choose money over loyalty.

  I waited patiently, taking in the other chicks that tried to top her performance.

  “Papi, sorry I took so long,” she said in her strong Puerto Rican accent. She gave me a peck on my cheek then sat on my leg. If she’d move an inch closer, she’d felt my wood wide-awake.

  “No problem, ma, you good. I’m pretty sure you ‘bout to make it up to me,” I said invitingly.

  “You kno’ it papi. Let’s go!” She took my hand and led me towards the back room.

  The other guys looked on with lust in their eyes. One of her home girls yelled something in Spanish, and she giggled. I looked at her and thought she could get it, too.

  I walked out a satisfied man. My problems were on the back burner. Shawdy worked magic with her
tongue. In return, I peeled her off a good piece of change. I really wished that I could wife her, but I already knew . . . can’t turn a hoe into a housewife.

  ***

  Sierra ass ‘bout to get dismissed, kick rocks, straight like that. I was not going to sweat no broad. Bitches were lined up ready to take her spot. I’d been leaving her messages; still no response.

  Shayna ass was back on her shit, asking me all kind of questions. This bitch seemed to forget that I was a grown ass nigga. I had been sleeping in the guest room. At this point, I didn’t give a fuck if she left; the fucking marriage didn’t mean shit to me. To keep it one hundred, the only reason I married the bitch in the first place was ‘cause she was carrying my seed at the time. Then right after the wedding, she had a miscarriage. I was sick after that. I had plans for my little nigga. She took it extra hard, so I felt obligated to be there for her ass since the doctors said it was due to stress. I felt a little guilty since at the time I was ripping and running the streets. She’s been using that ever since, throwing it in my face everytime we got into a fight.

  ***

  The drama on the streets began. Niggas had been asking a lot of questions about who I was and who I rolled with. It didn’t surprise me that my name was ringing bells in the street. I was incognito though. I moved too fast for these country muthafuckas. They had one advantage; they knew the ins and outs of the city’s dead ends. I had been considering getting a bulletproof vest. It’s a Feds charge, but fuck it. I’d rather be judged by twelve than carried by six.

  I was spending a lot more time with the Puerto Rican chick. She knew how to treat a nigga, and she did tricks with her tongue that had a nigga’s toes curling up. I never had a bitch licking my ass crack and blowing in my asshole. I doubled her paper after that.

  I had called Sierra’s phone for the umpteenth time. I was missing her, and even though I tried to dismiss her, my heart was in this one. I saw me and her in the future. She was definitely wifey material; she just needed to stop tripping like that.

  Ring . . . Ring . . . Ring . . .

  “Hello,” her seductive voice echoed through the phone.

  “Yo, ma, it’s me.”

  “So, what you want, Alijah? Shouldn’t you be callin’ yo’ wifeee?” she replied sarcastically.

  “Ma, I kno’ you tight wit’ a nigga right now, but gi’ mi a chance to explain myself to you,” I pleaded.

  “It’s only one side to this story. You’re married, and I’m not the lucky bitch,” she said in a serious tone.

  “I feel you, ma, but I just wanna see you and talk. If you ‘ont like what I’m spitting, then I’ll leave you alone,” I suggested.

  After letting her see things my way, we decided to meet up at the park. I knew if I wanted her back, I would have to come correct. She wasn’t a slouch, so any old saying wasn’t gon’ fly with her. I had no doubt I was gon’ get her back; how long it was gon’ take, I didn’t know.

  Shayna Jackson

  Alijah had been behaving strangely, like he didn’t want to be bothered. When I tried to rub on him, he gave me the cold shoulder. I tried to find out about this bitch that he was fucking with, but kept coming up short, and Markus ass didn’t know who I was talking about. He never lied to me before, so I had no reason to doubt him.

  The impression that I got was that this hoe had some type of hold on him. I needed to find out what her story was. His slick ass must’ve kept her a secret because Markus never mentioned her, as much as he loved rubbing in whatever dirt Alijah did with the hope that I was going to leave Alijah for him. He was such a dreamer. I knew as long as I kept selling him dreams and kept him satisfied, I could always rely on him.

  Our last visit at the motel, Markus was really shook up. When I asked him what was the matter, this weak ass nigga told me, “Alijah found out his money was short and threatened to kill whoever was responsible.” He was shaking like he got the chills. He continued to talk recklessly about “how I’m not touchin’ his paper no mo’.” It took me damn near two hours of sucking and riding his little pony to get him to finally see things my way again.

  I knew we had to be extra careful. Knowing my husband, there are two things, he don’t play about –– his mother and his money. I was scared for my damn self if he ever found out that I was cheating and stealing from him. He was capable of doing some serious damage. I knew it didn’t make a difference that we had the same last name.

  Everyone knew that the Jamaicans were not to be fucked with. On several occasions, I’ve overheard a couple conversations with him and his boys when he ordered niggas to be killed. He also got his hands dirty a few times. Those two cousins that hung around were also dangerous. They sent chills all over my body whenever I got close to them.

  I didn’t know much longer I could put up with Alijah and his bad behavior. He was still acting crazy! I had to throw a tantrum just to get fucked, which was a waste of time and energy because he rushed and busted in about three minutes. I could’ve done better with Markus.

  I’ve hated him ever since I lost my baby boy a year and a half ago. I was five months pregnant. This baby was going to be my prize to hold on to Alijah for life and secure me a permanent place in his pockets. Unfortunately, I had a miscarriage, and things haven’t been the same since. My love for Alijah got buried with my son.

  We got into another big fight, and he stormed out the door. I hadn’t heard from him since. I kept calling, but I kept getting voicemail. That’s fine; two can play the game.

  As soon as his truck pulled out the driveway, I got on the phone and called Markus. His punk ass was against coming over to the house, but he came anyway. I took him straight to the bedroom, onto the bed I shared with my husband. Payback was a bitch!

  I sucked the black off his dick and then straddled him. This one time, I could actually say that I enjoyed myself a little too much. After we were finished, I didn’t bother to change the sheets.

  Chapter Seven

  Alijah Jackson

  “I’m the man in my city. Ain’t nobody fuckin’ wit me. You can ask all the real niggas and all the bad bitches,” TI’s voiced blared through the speakers of my brand new, customized 2006 Range Rover. I had my eyes set on this ride for a minute. I love my Escalade, but I needed a change. I had them customize the interior with the Rastafarian colors: red, green, and black and put a Lion covering on my seat to signify that I was the king in my throne.

  I pulled up over to Southside Realtor in Southside plaza. My man Walter worked over there.

  “Whaddup, my man?” I greeted him.

  “Alijah, it’s a pleasure to see you,” he said, getting up to give me dap. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to find a four bedroom house or condo.”

  “What price range are we working with?”

  “You know money ain’t a thing,” I replied with cockiness.

  “Alright, I might have something in mind. Let me check it out and get back with you.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Fax all the necessary papers over to my accountant. He’ll handle it.” “I sure will,” he said, sounding like he just hit the jackpot.

  “Good lookin’ out, Walt,” I said before I left out.

  In a few days, Walter was on point. He found a house in a nice upscale neighborhood over the in west end. I met up with him, looked at it, and approved it. I wondered how Sierra would react. It was much nicer than the brick wall that she was living in at the moment.

  I kept it a secret until everything was finalized. Walter set the paperwork up, so it would be in Sierra’s name. When you have money and power, you get shit done.

  ***

  It was Labor Day weekend, and I was in New York. I headed to mom-dukes crib. I hadn’t seen her in a month. As I exited the New England Thruway onto Conner Street, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was always a good feeling whenever I went home.

  As I cruised through the streets of Mount Vernon early in the morning, it was kind of chilly, so I slid my window down to let
in some cool breeze. I looked around and ain’t shit changed. Everything seemed the same. There was still a Bodega on every corner; a Chinese restaurant and a laundromat were within a mile radius. I couldn’t help but notice that cats were still posted on the block waiting on that early morning paper.

  I parked on the side and walked up the driveway. When I knocked on the door, my mom opened it with a head full of pink and yellow rollers as always.

  “Hey, baby,” she greeted me; opening her arms to give me one of her bear type hugs.

  “Hey, Ma.” I bent down to plant a wet one on her cheek.

  She was a little over four feet, but had a voice that could cause an earthquake. We walked hand in hand into the house I bought for her two years ago. The aroma from her cooking filled the air. I knew we were goin’ to be grubbing in a little while. We rapped about everything, including family here and back in Jamaica. My uncle Johnny needed money again –– for another surgery. See, I didn’t have a problem helping out family, but the problem with that was Uncle Johnny wasn’t really sick. The nigga had a coke problem, but knowing my moms and how naive she was, she was too blind to see that her favorite brother was a certified junkie. We sat down and ate some fried dumplings, ackee and codfish with hot cocoa. She knew how to throw down in the kitchen, and I sure missed her cooking.

  I glanced over at her and saw a worried look on her face. Whenever she worried too much, it always took a toll on her health.

  “Ma, is e’erything aiight. You look sick or sump’n?” I asked in a concerned tone.

  “No, baby, I’m ok; tanks to Jesus. It’s you dat I’m worried about. You need to stop whatever you doin’ before it’s too late. Tek heed, mi bwoy; it’s not good at all. You too damn hard head,” she scolded.