Page 32 of It’s The Dawg In Him For Me

“You know my brothas are crazy about me… I’ll keep them on standby.”

We continued lunch, talking bout everything. As they talked, I kept drifting off in my thoughts, thinking bout Rosama.

It wasn’t even on purpose, but the way he looked at me with them two-colored eyes, his stance, his smell. All of it was doing laps in my head without my permission.

After lunch, we hugged each otha and went off on our separate ways. They all had plans with their niggas, and the only plans I had were with a needle and some string. I was halfway home when I got a message from this nigga who would slide into my DM randomly to see if I was single.

He wasn’t ugly. I was just faithful to the wrong damn nigga.

Once I got inside and got changed, I laid on my bed and chopped it up for a lil’ bit with the nigga Chad, then outta nowhere, he asked, “Wanna pop out for a drink or two?”

I stared at the message for a second.

“Sure,” I responded and sent him my address. “Let me get dressed.”

Chapter 10

Rosama

It had been some days, but I still ain’t had Nylah in my presence or in my whip. I didn’t like that she was dodging me. No matter how many messages, calls, or money I sent. She responded when she wanted. And ghosted me before I even had a chance to realize it.

I was tired of that shit.

“She got me fucked up,” I said, sitting in the trap, counting money.

“Still,” Dre said with no damn care, “I thought you would be ova her by now.”

I shook my head. “Hell nah, brah, I want her.”

“Nigga, the only thing you should want right now is more money and your wife to sign them papers.”

I laughed ‘cause he wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah, I should slide through and see if I can get her to sign them damn papers sooner. I don’t know what the fuck she waitin’ on.”

Dre laughed. “For you to come back home.”

“That shit ain’t happen,” I said, looking at my phone. “She would be waitin’ for hell to freeze ova. But fuck her, I need to go hit this lick.”

“Slide through and talk to her nice. You might get what you want from her before you get what you want from Nylah.”

I grabbed a pack and walked outta the kitchen, shaking my head. Once I got in my whip, I hit this nigga to see where I needed to meet him so he could get his pick, and he said Bronx.

I almost wanted to go back in the trap and tell Dre to handle shit. The Bronx wasn’t the area I wanted to be in, but I said fuck it. I didn’t want to hear him talk to me about what I needed to fix with my wife.

Before I pulled off, I rolled up, turned on my nigga Dave East, and hopped right in the middle of traffic.

After a while of cussing niggas out on the interstate, I finally got off and eased into the Bronx, my music still knocking.

I was thinking bout hitting Nylah, or sliding by her crib with some flowers or some shit, but I had to remind myself what Dre said.

“Hit the lick and go talk to crazy,” I said to myself, trying to stay focused.

I pulled up on the spot, and the nigga was already outside. He got in the car, we dapped, exchanged everything, then we were both on our way like we didn’t even know each otha.

Once I pulled off, the next thing I had to deal with took front and center in my mind.

My damn wife that I wanted to be my ex.