Cairo - The Kat Trap

By the time me and Chanel got to Times Square, found parkin’, and walked up to the line to get into the club, it was already eleven-thirty. We had smoked a blunt apiece on the ride over and we were both feelin’ right. Chanel was lookin’ all chic and whatnot in a fly-ass white-and-black print jersey dress that hung off the shoulders, and she rocked a pair of six-inch black strappy sandals with an oversized white Chanel bag. And I kept it cute—of course—in a black, red, and pink abstract dress with a draped front and bubble hem with a twisted cut-out racerback. And of course I had to serve them hoes my Jimmy Choo patent leather Riki Ring bag, and a bangin’-ass pair of Versace Mirror stilettos.

Chanel knew damn well I wasn’t for standin’ in no long-ass lines, and before I could open my mouth to say somethin’ to her, my cell started ringin’. I looked at the number and flipped the phone open. “Hey,” I said, followin’ behind Chanel.

“What’s good, baby?”

“You,” I said.

“That’s what it is. What you gettin’ into tonight?”

“Me and Chanel are in the city gettin’ ready to go up into this club.”

“Oh word, which one?”

“Mars 2112.”

“Oh, shit. That’s where me and my mans are on our way to.”

I laughed. “Yeah right, nigga.”

“Nah, baby, real talk. Matter of fact, I’m rollin’ through midtown now.” He started laughin’. “Yeah, I bet you thought you was gonna be bouncin’ that ass up on them niggas tonight. Well, baby, big daddy’s comin’ through and I’m ’bout to shut shit down.”

“Oh, puhleeeze,” I said, grinnin’. “Ya ass tryna stalk me ’n shit.”

“Yeah, aiight, if you say so. You make sure you got ya pretty ass somewhere where I can get at you.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” I said, laughin’.

I spotted Chanel walkin’ toward me. “Bitch, will you come on,” she said, wavin’ me forward. She apparently knew someone who got us in without havin’ to play that long-ass line.

I sighed. “I gotta go,” I said, followin’ behind Chanel, “so hit me up when you get in.”

“You already know,” he said. “I’ll get at you in a minute.” And that’s exactly what he did. We were up in the VIP section all night poppin’ bottles and gettin’ our throats wet lovely. Grant let me do me, but outta respect, I kept it cute. I let the nigga hug and kiss up on me, and I only danced with a few cats, but mostly danced with him. By the end of the night, I was lit and ready to go home and roll up on top of a hard dick. But of course, Grant had to take his mans back to wherever he had to be, and Chanel was gonna crash at my spot so that cancelled that out.

I had my arms folded ’cross my chest and my lip poked out like I was poutin’ as we were walkin’ outta the club. It was goin’ on three-thirty in the mornin’. Grant and I stood outside waitin’ for his peoples and Chanel’s dick-hungry ass.

“Yo,” he said, grabbin’ me by the waist and pullin’ me into him, “cut that shit out. You know what it is. I’ma see you later today. You make sure you take ya ass straight home.”

I rolled my eyes, grinnin’. “Whatever, nigga.”

He kissed me on the lips. “Yo, you know you got my dick hard, right?”

Chanel called me on my cell. “Bitch, where the fuck you at?” I asked, lookin’ around for her.

“I’m on my way out now. I couldn’t get to the bathroom without some nigga tryna get all up in my ear.”

I sucked my teeth. “Bring ya ass on.” I hung up when I spotted her comin’ outta the door.

“So, I’ma see ya tomorrow, aiight,” Grant said as Chanel was approachin’ us.

“Yeah,” I said.

Chanel walked up and spoke to him. “Hey, Grant.”

“What’s good, Chanel?”

“Not a thing,” she said, smilin.’ She looked over at me. “So, Grant…tell me. When you gonna bag this chick here?” she asked, flickin’ her thumb over at me. “I told you her wild ass needs a nigga like you to tame her.”

He laughed. “I don’t know. You gotta ask her that. She act like she all scared ’n shit.”

“Oh, please,” I said. “Scared of what? And don’t ya’ll be talkin’ like I ain’t standin’ here.”

He smiled, lookin’ down at his crotch. “You know what it is.”

“Oh, whatever,” I said, laughin’. “Don’t gas ya’self.”

Chanel chimed in, “You know she likes to get beat, right?”

“Oh, word?”

“Nigga, believe that shit if you want. Chanel’s drunk ass’ll have you catchin’ a bullet.”

“Oh, shit, you’d really shoot me, huh?” he asked, laughin’.

“Yep,” I said. “Right after I finished wettin’ ya dick up.” Chanel and Grant started laughin’ like they thought that was the funniest shit they heard all night. Humph. Little did they know, I was laughin’ with ’em, but I was dead-ass.

“Yo, baby,” he said, pullin’ me into him. “You funny as hell.” He kissed me again. “You ain’t ever gotta worry ’bout me puttin’ my hands on you; I ain’t with that shit.” He leaned into my ear, and whispered, “But I will spank that ass with this dick.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I said, laughin’. “Chanel, let’s get outta here.”

He peeped his boy talkin’ to some chick. “Yo, nigga, will you come on.”

“Hold up, give me a minute,” dude said, flippin’ open his cell and handin’ it to the chick so she could put her number in. I ain’t gonna front, the nigga was fine; not as fine as Grant, but he could still get it.

Grant shook his head. “This nigga. Check it, meet me at the ride. I’ma walk my peoples to her ride.” Dude nodded his head. Grant wrapped his arm ’round me while Chanel walked a few steps in back of us. Her cell rang.

“Hello?” we heard her say. “Nigga, where the hell you think I’m at?” I grinned, knowin’ it was Divine. “I told you I was goin’ out with Kat…Yes, I did…Whatever…No, I’m stayin’ the night…Yes…No, Divine…I’ma be home sometime in the afternoon…Whatever, Divine…okay, aiight. I heard you…” She hung up. “Ugh, that nigga makes me sick.”

I craned my neck, glancin’ at her over my shoulder. “Yeah, right,” I said. “You love that nigga.”

“Whatever,” she said, suckin’ her teeth. “You worry ’bout gettin’ some love in your life.”

“Yo,” Grant said, smilin’. “I’ma take care of that.”

“Please do,” Chanel said.

When we got to the parkin’ garage, I unlocked the door for Chanel. Grant waited for her to get in, then pulled me into him, squeezin’ my ass and kissin’ me.

“Yo, make sure you take ya ass straight home,” he said, kissin’ me again. “I don’t wanna haveta fuck nobody up.”

“Whatever,” I said. “You make sure you take ya ass home.”

“You got that,” he said, kissin’ me again. He opened the car door for me and waited for me to get behind the wheel. He looked over at Chanel and was gettin’ ready to speak, but her ass was already knocked out. “Get home safe.”

“You, too,” I said, startin’ the engine, then backin’ out. I tapped the horn as I drove by, then made my way back to Jersey with thoughts of Grant comin’ through later on in the day. Yeah, this nigga was tryna have a bitch fall for ’im. I just hoped he was ready, ’cause I was tryna play for keeps. I took a deep breath, turned on the CD player, and listened to Aretha Franklin sing “The Tree of Life.” And for some reason, after hearin’ the verse It’s too late to cry…There ain’t gonna be no next time… I felt my chest tighten and an achin’ in my heart. I clutched my chest and choked back tears as I headed toward the Holland Tunnel.

Erykah Badu’s “Bag Lady” was playin’ in the background and Grant and I had just finished blazin’ our third blunt. He had come through earlier in the afternoon, like he said he would. And after diggin’ my back out lovely, we were loungin’ ’round chillin’. I couldn’t front, things between us were really startin’ to feel right ’n shit. But I didn’t wanna jinx shit by gettin’ all excited too quick. I was tryna play it cool and keep shit cute. I was really diggin’ his ass. But the nigga wasn’t my man, and I wasn’t sure if that’s what I really wanted. A part of me did, but then there was that part of me that was scared. Not of him, but of what I’d do if he turned out to be another nigga tryna play me. I really think a bitch would go postal for real. The nigga’s dick game was so damn tight that I knew, without a doubt, that I could really get caught in him. And that shit had a bitch on edge; almost nervous. I’m not sure if it was my heart, my head, or my pussy talkin’, but whichever it was, I knew if I gave in to the feelin’s that were slowly startin’ to stir inside of me and the nigga turned out to be on some other shit, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight. My gut told me he was a good man, but what I couldn’t figure out was if the nigga was a cheatin’ man.