Big Booty

37

  I'm in my bedroom with the stereo playin', listenin' to Adele's CD Adele 21. "Turning Tables" is playin' and I'm smokin' a blunt and drinkin' a bottle of Barefoot Moscato, mindin' my business when my cell rings. I reach over on the bed for it, glancin' at the screen. It's Day'Asia's ass. I press IGNORE, tossin' the phone back on the bed. A few seconds later, it beeps, alertin' me she done left a message. I close my eyes, inhalin' smoke, then slowly blowin' it out.

Nooo, lil' bitch. You ain't disruptin' my vibe. You tried to turn the tables and do me, boo. Daughter or not, I ain't got no convo for a bitch like you.

I hum to the melody. Oooh, this white ho knows she can sing her drawers off. I toss back my drink, then reach for the bottle and fill my glass to the rim. The kids are gone 'til tomorrow night. Well, all of 'em except Isaiah and Tyquan. Neither of 'em wanted to go with their fahvers. And the one thing I don't ever do is force my kids to go, especially Isaiah, since I don't like the walrus-lookin' bitch he's married to. It's early in the evein' and I'm feelin' good. I'm gonna use the quiet to just sit and chill for a minute. No dingaling, no buncha kids, and no damn drama.

When "Lovesong" starts playin', I sway to the music. "Siiiing, goddammit! Do me right, Adele!" The song is calmin'. I smoke down my blunt, then spark another. My cell rings. It's Day'Asia again. And

she gets igged, again.

Four glasses of wine and two blunts, later, I finally decide to listen to my messages.

"Ma, can I please come home, pllllllllllease . . . " she's whisperin' into the phone.

"They crazy here. Mister Knutz done beat up Aunt Lina last night and she been locked in her room, cryin'. I wanna come home, ma." I delete. The next message starts playin'.

"Mommy, puhhhhllleeeeeze call me when you get this message. Puhhhhhllllleeze. I'm sorry for what I did. Puhhhhlllllleeeeeze call me back."

I roll my eyes, pressin' the delete prompt. Five minutes later, my cell rings again. This time it's Darius. "Hey?"

"Yo, Ma, you talk to Asia?"

"No, I haven't; why?"

"Yo, you need to get her outta that spot over there wit' Miss Lina and 'em. They over there wildin' hard; for real."

"Not my problem," I say, pourin' myself another drink.

He sighs heavily. I imagine him frownin' his face, or rollin' his goddamn eyes in his head. "Yo, Ma. Real shit, you effen buggin'. How you sound talkin' 'bout that's not ya problem? Asia is ya problem. And she's your responsibility. She ain't got no business bein' over there in da projects when she gotta home right there with you."

"No, she had a home. Now she's on her own. I'm not havin' no grown-ass disrespectful bitch layin' up in here tryna do whatever the fuck they want. I'm not playin' them kinda games. So if you so concerned about where she's at, then you go get her and let her stay with you. Like I told them DYFS bitches, she ain't comin' back up in here. Now don't call me no more with this shit."

"Yo, you buggin'. I'll holla at you later."

"Then holla." I disconnect.

An hour later, Dickalina is callin' me. I sigh. Now what the fuck she want? If she's callin' here 'bout Day'Asia's ass I'ma scream on her.

"C-C-Casssssss," she wails in my ear. "H-h-he's goooone." She's boo-hooin' it up all up in my eardrum.

I frown. "Lina, calm down. Who is you talkin' about?"