Cairo - Deep Throat Diva

“ Nappy No More. How can I help you?” Felecia says, answering the phone. She looks over at me and mouths it’s Jasper. I tell her to give me a minute to get to my office and then to transfer the call. I strut to my office, closing the door behind me, then pick up the phone.

“Hey, baby,” I say, sitting on the edge of my desk.

“How you, beautiful? What you been doing with ya sexy-ass self?”

“Thinking about you,” I tell him, closing my eyes to shut off the images from the other night. I press my thighs tightly together.

“Yo, thanks for droppin’ off those things. I ’preciate that. You got ya man lookin’ right, baby.”

“And so you should. Did you put me on the visiting list yet?”

“Nah,” he says coolly.”

“Why not?” I ask with attitude. Maybe it’s not warranted because of the shit I’m doing behind his back, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s my man and I want to be able to see him.

“I’m only gonna be here for thirty, maybe forty-five, days at the most. Once they finish all these bullshit-ass assessments, I’ma be shipped outta this muhfucka, feel me?”

“Mmmph, if you say so.”

“Yo, c’mon, baby.”

“’Cmon’ nothing. All of a sudden you getting brand new, acting like you don’t want visits.”

He laughs. “Aye, yo, knock it off. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m sayin’, baby. You already know what it is. You the only one I’m tryna see, real talk. You should know that shit. How the fuck you think I made it the last four years? You’ve been ridin’ this shit out wit’ a muhfucka faithfully. And that shit says a lot. Those visits kept me sane, baby. They got me through all this shit, feel me? But I’m tired of ’em. I wanna hold you in my arms. Tongue ya sexy ass down, and not have a muhfucka cock-blockin’ me. This shit is almost over, baby. And the next time I see you I want it to be you picking me up at the halfway house so we can slide off and get our fuck on. Period. Thirty days, baby; that’s all. Then it’s on. It’ll go by fast, feel me?”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I finally agree half-heartedly.

All of a sudden my mind starts racing, thinking up crazy shit. Like maybe he’s trying to get brand new ’cause he has some side bitch on his team. I know how niggas do once they’ve finished a bid. They’ll have one chick riding out his whole sentence with him, gassing her ass up to think he’s coming home to her. So she plays her position to only find out that her ass’s been played; that the joke’s been on her all the time. Because the nigga’s got another plan and her ass isn’t a part of it. I feel myself about to go off, feeling the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. But I’m smart and sane enough to know that all the messy shit I’m conjuring up is all in my head because of my own guilty conscience. I take a deep breath.

“You know I love you, right?”

Ohhhhkay, where is this going? I wonder, sitting further back on my desk. I nod as if he can see me through the phone. “Yeah,” I reply, pausing. “I know that. And I love you, too.”

“Yo, no secrets, aiight?”

“I wasn’t aware we were keeping any,” I say coolly. I silently hold my breath, anticipating the direction this conversation is headed.

“For better or for worse…we in this, right?”

I know this man loves the hell out of me. “Jasper, do you even have to ask?” I ask indignantly. “Of course we are. We’ve been through too much not to be.”

“No doubt,” he says, pausing. “Yo, so keep it gee, baby. Am I comin’ home to a tight pussy, or am I gonna haveta snap out?”

“Excuuuse me?” I say crossly, trying to act like I didn’t hear what he’s asked. “What did you ask me?”

“I wanna know if you let any muhfuckas run up in that good shit while I been behind the wall?”

I roll my eyes up in my head, sucking my teeth. Prepare myself for the staged theatrics I’m about to go into. “OhmyGod, I can’t believe you asked me some shit like that. How many times do we have to keep going over this? You keep asking me the same shit, and I keep giving you the same answers. Yes, it’s tight. No, I’m not getting fucked. I’ve been waiting for you. Damn. Why is that so hard for you to believe?”

“’Cause I know how chicks do, that’s why.”

“And I know how niggas do. And I know how you used to do, but you don’t constantly hear me bringing the shit up. Damn.”

“Aye, yo, why you gettin’ all defensive ’n shit? I’m only askin’ a simple question.”

“I’m not getting defensive,” I snap.

“Sounds like it to me.”

“Well, I’m not,” I huff. “But what I’m getting is sick of you asking me the same shit over and over, like you doubt me or something. What if I started asking how many bitches you’ve been writing and calling? Or how many bitches have been coming to see you on the days I don’t?”

“You can ask me that shit all you want. And I’ma keep the shit one hunnid.”

“Oh, like you used to when you were out here fucking around on me?”

“Yo, hol’ up. You not ’bout to flip this shit on me. I fucked up when I was out on the bricks, but that shit’s in the past, yo. I deaded all that lyin’ and cheatin’ shit the last time you caught me out there.”

For some reason my mind drifts back to the last time I caught Jasper’s ass cheating. I was on South Orange Avenue on my way to Livingston Mall, stopped at the traffic light, when I spotted a black Range Rover stopped at the other side of the light facing me. At first I didn’t pay it much attention because there was a chick behind the wheel, but then I glanced at the license plate as it was making a left turn onto South Munn Avenue and realized that the SUV this chick was driving was definitely Jasper’s. I snatched up my cell and started to call his ass, but quickly dismissed the idea and decided to follow her to wherever she was going instead. Ironically, as I’m following his truck, he called me.

“Hello,” I answered, trying my damndest not to start interrogating him.

“Hey, baby,” he coolly replied, “where you at? I called the shop but Felecia said you left already.”

“Yeah,” I told him, keeping a nice distance between me and the truck. Even though I was ready to go off, I kept my tone even; kept my eye on the truck as it stopped at a home in the Vailsburg section of Newark. “I’m on my way to Livingston Mall. Why?”

“Just askin’. What time you gonna be home?”

I glanced at the clock. It was two-thirty in the afternoon. I decided to tell him I wouldn’t be home until after seven. I stopped a few houses down, turned off the engine, and watched this chick get out of my man’s ride—like she owned the shit! She opened the backseat and pulled out several bags. The bitch had been shopping, probably spending his money. “Why? As a matter of fact, where are you ?”

“Oh, uh…I’m in Maplewood wit’ Stax.”

“Oh, tell him I said hey. What, ya’ll getting into? Visiting your grandmother?”

“Yeah, she got us painting and moving shit for her.”

“Awww, how cute,” I told him. “That’s real nice of ya’ll. Are you riding with Stax?”

“Nah, I’m driving,” he lied.

“So what time are you gonna be home?”

“Uh, I’m not sure; late most likely.”

“What’s late?”

“Like ’round midnight or so.”

I peeped the house the broad went into, waited a few minutes, then got out of my car. I popped open my truck, pulled out my ice-pick, then started walking toward his truck. Yes, in broad motherfucking daylight, I dropped down low and punched up his tires.