Girls from da Hood 11 (20 page)

by

Many people have it twisted about who or what a side-ho really is. The weirdest thing of all is that almost every chick in her lifetime has played the side-ho role, but she may not have classified herself that way. And for anyone to assume that a side-ho's life is miserable, I would only ask for those individuals to rethink that assumption because, for many of us, that is not the case.

A sidekick, side-ho, side-chick—whatever anyone wants to call it is fine with me. All I consider myself as being is the other woman. A woman who doesn't have to deal with the daily headaches of trying to be locked in a committed relationship. A woman who doesn't have to argue or worry about who or what the player in her life is doing. A woman who is free to fuck with whomever she wishes, who doesn't mind sharing, and a woman who is perfectly fine with being alone sometimes.

Call me crazy or not, but that's the kind of chick I am. If that makes me a ho, so be it. If it makes me a home-wrecker, I'll wear that badge of honor too. At the end of the day, as long as I'm happy, why should anyone give a fuck?

The bottom line is to have your man in check. Hold his ass accountable, not me. While I'm sometimes a willing participant, so is he. Instead of creating titles for bitches like me, why not come up with a title that is fitting for the brothers who continue to juggle more than one chick and play games? Like side-dog-ass-nigga-who-needs-to-quit! I mean, put the blame back where it belongs, because the only thing I've been guilty of is making sure my needs are met before anyone else's is. It's all about taking care of me first.

* * *

Like always, Moses was late. He was supposed to be at my apartment for dinner around six, but it was almost seven o'clock. There was no more steam coming from the catfish nuggets I'd fried that had gotten cold. The wine that was chilling in the ice bucket wasn't on point because the ice had melted. The soothing music in the background came to a halt, and I switched from my red negligee to a plain, white long T-shirt that fell above my knees. My hair was sleeked back into a ponytail, and every single drop of makeup that I had on had been washed off. Not that I needed much makeup, because my smooth, brown skin still shone without it. Even the T-shirt I wore made me look sexy. There was no question that I could give Gabrielle Union a serious run for her money.

As I sat on the couch with my feet propped on the coffee table and eating popcorn while watching TV, I heard a knock at the door. The three light knocks let me know that it was Moses. I took my time moving to the door, and when I opened it, all I could do was roll my eyes.

It wasn't that I was upset with Moses about being late, and the truth was, I had gotten used to his tardiness. What bothered me was the way he looked. His droopy eyes implied that he'd been into another argument with his so-called significant other. The sleeve on his shirt was torn, and there was a small scratch on the side of his face. This nigga was definitely killing my vibe, but I opened the door wider to invite him in. He walked in with his head hanging low, hands in pockets.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said in a soft tone. “But you already know that bitch was tripping tonight.”

“Don't be sorry. No need to be.”

I closed the door and stood in front of it as Moses plopped down on the couch, shaking his head. He cracked his knuckles and bit down on his bottom lip

“I get so tired of the bullshit. Every time I come home from work, all I listen to is a bunch of bitching. There ain't ever any food on the table, and she's been there all damn day. The house a mess and the dishes been piled in the sink for two damn days.”

He was the one who had proposed to this trifling bitch. Now he wanted to complain.

“Stop complaining, Moses. After all, this is the woman you say you love and who you're going to marry. Calling her a bitch is unnecessary, and even though I don't mind you coming here to vent, I prefer that we not spend the evening talking about your fiancée.”

“You're right. I apologize for talking about that bitch, but she really works my nerves. I just wish I didn't love her like I do. It would be so much easier for me to walk away from this. I'm not even sure if I want to get married anymore, and that's for real.”

Moses was talking shit. As always, I was there to listen to these sorry-ass niggas I considered cowards. They talked all this crap to the other woman but didn't have the guts to tell the loves of their lives how they really felt. No matter how many times I stressed that I didn't want to hear it, Moses just kept on running his mouth. I didn't dare repeat myself about not wanting to hear it; after all being with Moses was beneficial to me. Not only was his sex on point, but he also kept my pockets thick with paper. There was never a time when I asked him for something and he didn't provide it. He never complained; therefore, he didn't get many complaints from me. This relationship worked well for the both of us. If he needed me to be there for him after the marriage took place, I would be. Then again, that depended on who else was occupying my time too.

I walked over to the couch and stood behind Moses. I unbuttoned his shirt and pealed it away from his bulging muscles. No words could describe how sexy Moses was, and as I began to press my hands against his carved chest, he dropped his head back on the couch and looked at me.

“That feels so good,” he said. “I don't know what I would do without you in my life right now.”

Like always, I smiled and remained silent. I rubbed the flowing waves on his head and then moved my hands to his broad shoulders that were stacked like a linebacker. Moses cocked his neck from side to side and closed his eyes.

“I thought you were hungry,” I said. “If you fall asleep, you'll do so on an empty stomach.”

“Nah, I'm not falling asleep. I'm just thinking. Thinking about how great your hands feel. Thinking about how many positions I'm going to put you in tonight, and I'm thinking about what I need to do with my life.”

His position statement got my attention, but that other stuff didn't matter. At thirty-two years old, Moses already knew what he was going to do with his life. He was going to marry the lazy trick he'd fallen in love with in college, and do his best to go live happily ever after. He was wasting his time trying to convince me or himself otherwise.

“I don't know what you're going to do,” I said. “But whatever it is, I got your back. I got something else for you too, but that'll have to wait until later.”

Moses smiled and his mood was starting to change. He got up and went to the bathroom. By the time he got done, I had already gone to the kitchen to warm his food. I poured both of us a glass of wine, gave him a beer, and we sat in the living room, watching the football game.

“These fish nuggets are off the chain,” Moses said, dipping them in tartar sauce. “Girl, you know you can cook.”

I always appreciated the nice things Moses said about me. I doubted that he referred to me as a bitch, and when it came to respect, he always delivered.

Moses picked up his bottle of beer; I lifted my glass of wine. As we were about to toast, there was a knock on my door. I wasn't expecting anyone. The other men in my life, Carl and Juan, knew better than to show up at my apartment without calling. And if it was either of them, they would be turned away.

Moses had the audacity to speak up first. Jealousy was in his eyes, and how dare he try to catch an attitude because somebody was at my door.

“I hope I didn't come at a bad time. And whoever it is, you better tell that nigga you're busy.”

If I opened my mouth, I'd have to go off on Moses' ass. It was his way of thinking he was in control of the situation. The truth was, there was no need for me to argue with a man like him who was only good for sex and dishing out cash. Cash that wasn't much to brag about, but was helpful to my financial situation.

“Who is it?” I said while standing by the door.

“Karla. Is Moses here? I know he is, so don't lie for him.”

I turned to Moses and he damn near choked on the beer he was drinking. For the first time ever, his bitch had shown up at my place. She must have followed him tonight, and whatever they'd been arguing about must've brought her to my doorstep.

Moses got up from the couch and walked over to the door. He was waiting on me to say something but I kept quiet. The one thing I wasn't going to do was lie for him. He needed to man up and handle this shit, especially since he was the one who led his woman over here.

“See what she wants,” he said in a whisper. “Either way, tell her I'm not here.”

Like I said, this fool was a coward. Now was the perfect time for him to express what a non-cooking, lazy bitch Karla was, but I was sure he wouldn't go there with her.

“I'm going to open the door, but you need to say something to her. It's obvious that she already knows you're here.”

I didn't dare wait for another response from Moses. I pulled on the door, and Karla stood on the other side with a mean mug on her face. The sad thing was she was a cute chick. Had a tight body, short layered hair, and blemish free light skin. She probably could have had any dude she wanted, but there she was tripping with a fool like Moses. I guess when you know better, you do better.

Karla folded her arms and stood with much attitude. Her eyes shifted from me to Moses who stood with a blank expression on his face.

“I figured you would be here, and I guess this is the same Miah sending you text messages. I'm sure you won't tell me the truth, so let me introduce myself.” Karla extended her hand to mine. I didn't have anything against her, so I reached out my hand.

“Miah, I'm Karla, Moses' fiancée. Do you mind if I come in?”

Surely, Moses didn't want her to come inside, but I widened the door. She walked her snooty self inside, and looked around with a frown on her face. My apartment wasn't what you would necessarily see in
Better Homes & Gardens
magazine, but it was decorated with unique contemporary furniture that satisfied me. Obviously, my colorful taste wasn't suitable to her.

“So, what's it going to be, Moses? Since you have your shirt off and everything, I assume you intended to stay the night here.”

“Your assumption may be correct. And it's better than staying at home and arguing with you all the time.”

Karla looked me up and down then rolled her eyes. “I don't like to argue with you at all, but what else am I supposed to do when you I see all of these hoochies calling you. Do you not want me to fuss when I smell another woman's perfume on you? I followed you because I knew you weren't going out with the boys like you said you were. I mean, come on, Moses. You bring a lot of this shit on yourself. How dare you talk this marriage bullshit to me, and then turn around and do the things that you do? It doesn't make sense.”

Moses wanted to play hard, but as Karla's eyes watered, his tune changed. “I do want to get married, but I'm just so tired of so many things that are going on with us.”

“Things like what? You are the reason things aren't working out, so don't go blaming me for our relationship not going smoothly.”

By now, I had walked over to the couch to take a seat. I got an opportunity to see Moses be the real wimp that he was, and from the way he acted, he had to be embarrassed.

“I know I haven't been one hundred with you, but like I said to you before, Miah and me are just friends. I come here sometimes to talk to her about what I be going through. Unlike you, she listens to me and doesn't nag or gripe about nothing.”

If Karla believed that friend shit she was a damn fool. We were more than friends, but it was up to her to elaborate on what he'd said. Truthfully, I was ready to throw both of them the fuck out of my apartment. But I was too interested in how all of this dumb shit was going to play out.

Karla folded her arms across her chest. “Friends don't cook dinner for you, and they don't send you text messages that tell you how much they miss you. They also don't allow you to walk around their apartment with no shirt on, and they don't wear T-shirts with no damn underclothes on underneath them while you're here.”

Well, she had a point. I wondered how Moses was going to counter that.

“What she wears in her apartment is her business, not mine. And friends do cook for friends, especially when some other people fail to do it. I don't ever recall her sending me a text message saying that she missed me. The truth is, the only person I ever miss when I'm away from them is you.”

No this nigga didn't just throw me under the bus. That shit was so weak, and I hoped like hell that she didn't fall for it.

“When it comes to cooking, you could cook for me too. And if you give me your phone, I'll be happy to point out the text messages from Miah. Better yet, I will ask Miah for myself.”

Karla looked over Moses' shoulder at me. I looked straight ahead, as if I were indulged in the football game.

“Have you ever sent Moses a message telling him that you missed him?”

Moses had a pleading look in his eyes—one that told me to lie.

“Please don't come in here asking me any questions. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't—you be the judge. Besides, if you claim you saw something with your own eyes, why ask me to clear that up for you?”

Karla rolled her eyes then turned them back to Moses. Truthfully, I'd heard enough. It was time for them to wrap this mess up and get out of here.

“I'm not going to stand here and argue with you,” Moses said. “Are we leaving together or not?”

Karla smacked away her tears. “No. You stay right here with your bitch tonight. I don't know what kind of idiot you think I am, Moses, but I've had it with you.”