Cairo - The Kat Trap

If ya tryna play a bitch like me, ya better be ready to rock. Let me catch ya sleepin’, and ya gonna find ya’self knocked. Crabs in a barrel gonna try ’n steal yo shine, hatin’-ass hoes gonna try ’n steal ya spot…fuck what ya heard…a bitch like me will blast ya ass with somethin’ hot…before I ever let a muhfucka snatch me off top…

The shrill sound of my cell pulled me outta my sleep. The sound of the ring tone told me who it was, and which cell line it was. I glanced over at the digital clock on my nightstand, rollin’ my eyes.

“Shit,” I groaned, jumpin’ out of bed and diggin’ through my purse for my phone. I glanced at the number. Sure enough it was my moms. “Hello.”

“Is there any reason why you haven’t called me?” she asked with ’tude. No “hello.” No “it’s good to hear ya voice,” nothin’ except her fuckin’ attitude. I swear the older she gets the more evil she gets. The conversation hadn’t even gotten started and I was already ready to snap my phone shut on her ass.

I sighed. “Well, hello to you, too,” I said. “And to answer ya question, I haven’t called ’cause I’ve been busy.”

“Humph. Doin’ what? Are you workin’?”

“Yeah, I’m workin’. And before ya start tryna get all up in what I do, save it. As long as I’m not askin’ you to dig in ya pockets, what I do to make my paper is none of ya concern. Now, who pissed in ya Cheerios today?”

“Ain’t nobody piss in nothin’ of mine. I haven’t heard from you in almost two months, and I shouldn’t have to be the one to call you.”

“Uh, and why not?” I asked, sittin’ on the edge of my king-sized poster bed. The fuckin’ nerve of her!

“Because I’m your mother, that’s why. You should be callin’ and checkin’ on me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Really? Well, thanks for that news bulletin. I woulda thought as a mother you would wanna pick up a phone to see how ya only child is doin’. You know how to reach me. Anyway, now that ya got me, what’s been happenin’? Anything new goin’ on in ya life?”

“Nope,” she said, a bit too quick if ya ask me. “You know I don’t mess with too many people. Ever since I got my money these phony bitches ’round here always smilin’ and whatnot and tryna be up in my face. I’m like, ‘bitch, please, I ain’t got no time for it.’”

“Hmm. I hear ya. How’s Grandma?”

“You’d know that if ya ass picked up a phone and called her sometimes.”

I sucked my teeth. I really wasn’t in the mood for her shit. Beeeep! The call waitin’ tone signaled in my ear. Good. “Listen, I gotta go. I have another call comin’ in. I’ll be over next Saturday or Sunday.”

“That’s what ya ass said two months ago, and I still haven’t seen you.”

Beeeep!

“Alright,” I said, gettin’ agitated. “I’ll see ya on Sunday. ’Bye.”

“Well—”

I pressed the TALK button, disconnectin’ her ass. “Hello?”

“Damn, baby,” the nigga said in his silky voice. “Your voice got my shit on brick. When you gonna let a nigga see you?” It was Raynard, this cat from Long Island I had met when I was out in Vegas for All-Star Weekend in February. Humph. I knew I shoulda never given this nigga my digits.

The first night I met him was at the party P. Diddy was hostin’ at the Ice House Lounge. I was up in that piece lookin’ fabulous in a sexy Christian Dior white slip dress with a cutout back and plungin’ neckline that showed off my perfectly shaped ass, titties, and legs, and rockin’ a bangin’-ass pair of white beaded Gucci stilettos. Yes, a bitch slayed ’em in all white. I had the niggas droolin’ and every hatin’-ass bitch in that piece gaggin’.

Anyway, I was up in the VIP lounge standin’ out on the patio drinkin’ a flute of champagne when dude stepped to me tryna get his mack on. I ain’t gonna front, he was a dark-chocolate cutie—six-three, sexy brown eyes, nice thick lips, neatly trimmed mustache and goatee, with a beautiful bald head. The nigga was dipped in a fly-ass black Hugo Boss suit and it was somethin’ ’bout his swagger that made my pussy jump. But I kept it cute. I let him get his rap on, then sweetly smiled and bounced on his ass.

The next night, I bumped into him again when I was walkin’ through Caesar’s headin’ toward the Forum Shops. As I walked past him and his boys—there was like six or seven of them niggas—he stopped me and tried to get his shine on in front of his mans while them vultures swarmed around me like they were ready to eat me alive. I wasn’t pressed, though.

“Listen,” I had said. “I’d love to stand here and let you and your boys gawk at me, but I got shoppin’ to do.”

“Anything I can help you with, beautiful?”

I looked his ass up and down real easy-like, then smirked, starin’ into his eyes. “Nope,” I said, “’cause I ain’t shoppin’ for dick.”

He grinned. And his boys started laughin’. “Oh word. Well, let me get your digits then, so I can hit you up later on tonight.”

“Wrong answer,” I replied.

“Do you believe in fate?” he asked, smilin’.

“Why?”

“’Cause this is the second time I done ran into you. Outta all these heads out here, I spot you again. You dipped on me last night, but I ain’t letting you off that easy this time.”

I smiled. “So, you believe in fate, I take it?”

“Most def.”

“Good. Well, they say three’s a charm so if we happen to run into each other again, then I’ll give you my number. If not”—I shrugged—“then it wasn’t meant to be.”

I looked at him, then over at his boys. “You boys enjoy the rest of your stay. I’m out.”

He threw his big hand up over his chest, like he was clutchin’ his heart. “Damn, ma. I’m heartbroken. How you gonna leave me hanging like this?”

I grinned. “Easy,” I said, gettin’ ready to step off. But I stopped dead in my tracks when I heard one of his boys say: “Yo, Ray, I wouldn’t even waste my time on a stuck-up bitch like her. I can tell she’d be a fuckin’ headache tryna get some pussy from.”

I turned to face his wide-nosed, big-lipped ass, then let that ass have it. “Nigga, what the fuck did you just say?” I asked, steppin’ up in his face. I could tell the nigga was lit. He smelled like he’d been drinkin’ all night. But I didn’t give a fuck. Drunk or not, that nigga stepped outta pocket. In a split second I was ’bout to bring my blade to his face. “I know you didn’t just disrespect me. Muhfucka, I don’t know what type of bitch you think you talkin’ to, but I ain’t that bitch. How dare you try to come at me and you got the fuckin’ audacity to look like a muthafuckin’ cross-eyed gorilla!”

“Yo, you better go ’head ’fore you get hurt in here.”

“Go ’head nothin’. Fuck you, you crusty muhfucka. You probably the only duck-ass nigga outta ya crew who ain’t gettin’ no real pussy unless you beggin’ for it, or trickin’ ya money up for it. You done fucked with the wrong one, nigga. I’ll have ya muthafuckin’ lights smashed out before the sun comes up, fake-ass baller.” I knew if my girls were with me, we woulda tore that casino up and been hauled off to jail for stompin’ his ass.

“Yo, tell this bitch to step the fuck off before—”

“Before you what, nigga?” I said, cuttin’ him off while reachin’ into my bag to get my shit. Fuck splittin’ his shit with my blade, I was gonna ram my ice pick in his thick gut. If he kept pressin’, it’d be a bullet instead.

Dude stepped in between us, pushin’ his boy back with his forearm. “Yo, nigga, shut ya drunk ass the fuck up. Yo, ma, don’t pay his dumb ass no mind. He’s fucked up.”