Diva (Urban)

Can't

Donte's POV

    "The fuck you gotta say, nigga?!" I spat. It was after dropping Marc back off with a trunk full of new shit and straining myself from smacking Deadra that I found this traitor here. Patrick was on the floor of the local barbershop, blood splattered everywhere from my pistol-whipping him. This nigga had some nerve! I swear.

    I had that pistol aimed right at him ready to pull the trigger. "What, nigga?! What the fuck is the problem?!" Patrick shouted. All of the barbers had stopped cutting. They knew that if I was mad at Patrick then he must've did some whack-ass shit.

    "Don't front!" Thinking about it only made me anger more. I started throwing bolos until one of the hair stylists from the salon next door, Delicious rushed in and yanked me off of him with some crack-head strength. When I turned around, it actually was Travis helping her. "Yo, chill, dude! Chill! I gotchu! I'll handle him!"

    "Handle me?! Nigga—" Patrick started. I hit him again, this time harder and he fell to the floor, cold.

    Turning to Travis, I said, "Naw, I got him. Just bring this busta up there tomorrow." Travis automatically knew I meant the Trap. I was ready to end this nigga.

    I got into my new Benz with the Chrome car rims. Travis caught up to me and gestured for me to roll down the window. "What?"

    "Ima go hit the spot and cop me a dime bag, a'ight?"

    "Nigga, do you even got money?"

    "For me to know and you to find out." Travis said, a buggin' smirk on his wide ass face. He was always tryna buy drugs. But that's why we were cool. I could trust him.

    I rolled on down the street to my momma's crib, a roll of dead presidents in my pocket ready to spend it up. Besides, I haven't seen the woman in a few weeks and I was itching for her homemade chocolate chip cookies.

    My cell phone rang. Picking it up and answering the phone, I tapped my fingers to Drake's "All Me" on the radio.

    "Yeah." I said. It was Asap. "Yo, come up to the crib when you ain't busy today. Got some shit to do." I nodded even though he couldn't see me and said, "A'ight."

    Unlocking her door, I called momma's name. "In the kitchen, baby!" Momma called back. I had fixed myself up after the altercation.

    Hugging my tall but frail mother, I sat at the kitchen island on a comfy stool. Where have yo ass been, stranger?" Momma snapped. She was rolling dough into crescents. "I been busy. That's all. Aye, we goin' to the mall. Don't you need some clothes and shit?"

    "I ain't that old. I can still fit my stuff. Sorry about yo own damn self." Momma joked.

    I chuckled and pointed at her neck. "I don't know, momma. I'm startin' to see a turkey neck right there."

    Momma smacked my arm and laughed. She put the tray of bread into the oven and washed her hands.

    "How's Diva?" Momma was the only person I knew who didn't call Shorty "Shorty". Other than that guy that I heard at the diner with her trying yo call her name like he was mental or something.

    "Momma..." I was preparing myself for an ass wooping for not telling her sooner that Shorty was pregnant.

    But I just went right out and said it. "Shorty pregnant. We found out like, last week."

    I expected... But actually, Momma just stood there on the other side of the island and stared at me. And then, slap!

    I held my cheek like a little bitch. I knew it was coming. "Momma! You can't be a hittin' a nigga!" I said.

    "You ain't tell me shit! Oh my God I gotta call that poor girl."

    "I'm the poor one here! You just smacked the livin' shit outta me! Damn…"

    I stood up ready to leave. My momma was buggin'. For real, for real. Shorty had moves to make and so did I.

    Remembering how Asap had called me stating we to meet up with a potential connect handle in Brookhaven, I headed to my car. "What about that child of yours?" Momma called from the doorway.

    "Thanks for broadcasting it to the world. He a'ight, momma. I took him clothes shoppin' earlier."

    "Good. You betta be doin' yo part as a father. You hear?"

    "Yeah momma. I left a hundred on the counter so you can getchu a lil' somethin'-somethin'. One love."

    "Bye."