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“You in the mood to shop and shit. Wanna be seen so fuckin’ bad with them hoe ass bitches. Aye Jah, you slipping the fuck up again. Tighten the fuck up and watch yo self.” I threatened and hung the fuck up in her face. I appeared like a nice ass nigga because I was always nonchalant about shit and very easy going.

One thing I wasn’t was a pussy ass nigga. I was getting tired of Jocelyn acting like she didn’t know what the fuck I was about. I didn’t ask much of her and didn’t even require her to do anything as my wife but cook and fuck a nigga good. It was my fault that she was probably this lazy because I spoiled her just like I did my sisters. I made enough money that I gave everybody in my household options. Jocelyn didn’t have to lift a finger. She wasted so much money investing in shit she never carried out.

I didn’t complain or make her do anything that she was uncomfortable doing. I was tired of her excuses and hearing the same ol’ same ol’. Jocelyn needed to step it up a little or our marriage would be in the danger zone. If I didn’t put up with my own momma shit, then I wasn’t gon’ put up with a wife that could never show up for a nigga.

Chapter Four

ERA

It felt like mountains were looming over my heart. I stood close to the door watching and listening to my so-called producer boyfriend pound the lining out of his artist’s pussy. My breathing became more and more shallow because, for the life of me, I didn’t understand just where we went wrong.

Feeling myself grow weak by the second, I swallowed a lack of spit and focused in on the way he eyed her. Devin looked at this woman like she was the only woman for him. I don’t even think I ever felt him in the way that he was fucking her.

“Past five minutes.” Tears slowly ran down my face as I caught and backhanded them. He couldn’t fuck me past two minutes, yet he was sitting in there giving that bitch the best that he had. I don’t know why I was planted the way that I was. I couldn’t move, and I didn’t really even want to make myself seen.

I picked my heart and pride off the floor, took a couple of pictures of his lying conniving ass, and walked away back towards my car.

I would never fight another bitch just because my man couldn’t give me the same respect and loyalty that I gave him for the past three years.

I didn’t ask Devin for shit, yet, I always went above and beyond to please, satisfy and make him feel like a king. I didn’t nag and we both were content with not living together although most thought it was absurd.

Pulling off and out of the parking lot, I dialed my mom and hit my vape like it was a blunt.

“Hey baby.” My mother always had a way of making me feel better just by hearing her voice.

“Earlene! That’s yo second time burning my scalp!” I chuckled because that voice belonged to my uncle Benny. He was still a pimp, and my mom was a beautician. Uncle Benny was a triplet brother, after him it was Uncle Lenny then Uncle Denny. Uncle Benny was the only bad ass out of all four siblings my mother included. His hair was long as hell and he had my mom press it out for him every two weeks claiming he couldn’t trust his hoes touching his hair.

“Shut ya ass Benny.” I giggled and sniveled a little, backhanding the tears from my face.

“Devin is cheating on me, Ma.” My voice broke again. I hated being this emotional but the feeling of being betrayed with proof so crystal clear in my face was a hard thing to accept.

“Well baby, I told you that. You and Praylah just keep dealing with these men that’s not good for your mental or ya health. Now come pick ya momma up from the salon so I can go home and get my deuce deuce. He got you crying, and I done told you if the nigga ever had you calling me sounding all sad, that I was gon’ bust a cap in his ass.” I could hear the anger in my momma’s voice. Although I wanted to pick her up and let her do her thing.

I knew I couldn’t I was a grown ass woman and needed to learn to handle my problems without my momma taking the lead.

“I told her ass to leave that nigga alone, we ain’t raise her to be no sucker ass lollipop getting sucked on by one of LA’s biggest tricks.” My uncle Benny swore that Devin was a trick and that he wasn’t going to take me far with my music career. I didn’t depend on Devin to do such a thing. It’s the main reason why I didn’t move in with him or depend on him like he asked me too.

I gave Devin too much space, I just never wanted him thinking that because he was some big-time producer that I wanted him for other reasons. Years ago, he chased me down after a talent show that I had won. From that point on we became close, and he constantly promised to get my mixtapes out there so a big record company could pick me up and sign me. It never happened, in fact he constantly bragged about getting other people deals like the bitch that I just caught him fucking.

“Hush Benny, what good example have you set for her? Out here pimping them girls and being out in them streets.” I hung up because I hated hearing them go back and forth. I loved my mom and all three of my uncles dearly with no judgment. What my uncle Benny did for work was wrong but he wasn’t one of those evil pimps beating on his women.

I looked at it more like some escort shit, he had high-priced hoes. He led them toward celebrities and hosted big parties. At fifty-one my uncles still looked good and carried themselves well. My father was close with Benny, they stopped being friends when he ended up deserting my mom and me. My uncle couldn’t respect a man that didn’t take care of his responsibilities.

I heard from my father maybe two to three times a year. I probably saw him once every couple of years. Shit didn’t bother me much now, coming up as a kid it bothered me on special holidays. My uncle was always there to make things better so I never had much time to get depressed over it. It didn’t stop me from questioning myself as a kid. I used to wonder why I wasn’t special enough for my dad to try to stick around.

Even as an adult, I made no excuses for his poor choices as a father. I felt like I was his responsibility and even if he didn’t want my mom, he should have still wanted me since I didn’t ask to be here.

I made it to my two-bedroom apartment and immediately slid out of my shoes. Feeling defeated like I wasted an entire off day, I removed my clothes at my front door and let them sit there instead of picking them up to take them to the hamper. Snapping my bra off, I kept my panties on and let my breast hang free. I hated wearing bras and right now, I was agitated by clothes, and the nagging pain from the wired bra added to that. I needed to feel free with no barriers.

Going in my kitchen in nothing but my panties, I snatched my bottle of Stella Rose and unscrewed the top. I thought about calling Praylah but lately, she had her own list of problems and I didn’t want to weigh her down with mine. I ran me some bath water and sipped straight from my wine bottle. Finally getting inside of my tub, I let my tears fall down my face freely.

I was tired, life was back getting the best of me again. It seemed like no matter how good things seemed to be going they ended up eventually going wrong. I refused to give up on myself. I was now twenty-five years of age and my music hadn’t taken off yet. I didn’t get lucky like most chicks did and I knew a part of the problem was because of my weight.

I wasn’t sloppily fat but I was considered plus sized. I had wide and thick hips, a pear-shaped ass, and some heavy breast that caused my back to hurt throughout the day. I had cellulite and stretchmarks but I knew that I was beautiful. I caught men and women constantly staring at me like I was a work of art since I was old enough to remember.

I had good energy and I offered my good energy to people that didn’t even deserve it half the time. The main person I connected the most with was my best friend Praylah because she was just as sweet as me. I was a bit wilder and more outspoken than her.

The music industry wanted video vixen chicks with BBLs and preferably fair skin. I was dark like midnight itself; my skin was a smooth dark chocolate free of blemishes. I was far from insecure when it came to my size and the tone of my skin. My mother and uncles made sure of that and constantly spoke confidence right into me.