His Past, Her Present, Their Future

How to Hate A Bitch

Bria

November 2000

Dallas, TX

    "What the fuck you mean that bitch pregnant by Devante?" I haven't talked to my girl Brooke in a while. Last time I heard from her, her and my idiot brother ran off the Vegas; and not to my surprise, the two eloped. How exactly when Nathan is already married? Simple. Nathan used his government name, Nathaniel, while rest her soul, Brooke used her sister's name. Those two had to be high as a kite. This is Brooke we are talking about; the same Brooklyn who is beyond obsessed with Devante DeGrate. I have no problem with Nathan and Brooke being married. That has nothing to do with me. The only reason I'm really fuckin' with my brother because I need money and the only money-making bitch that he knows of, is Danielle.

    I am still living at Danielle's old house, which is now Nathan's house. Let me rephrase that, it is now Nathan and Brooke's house. Yeah, shocker. Brooke and I ain't even on that type of level. But because we all live under one roof, in a way, I have to talk to the bitch. It was not in my intentions to tell her about Danielle's pregnancy. She kept questioning me about my whereabouts and shit, and being that I am a grown ass woman and I have nothing to hide, I told her ass every damn thang.

    "Yes Brooke." Mumbling every curse word under my breath, I continued to flip through the channels, hoping Brooke got the hint that I didn't want to be bothered. Her and my brother both need a reality check. I know that I am no better than them but shit, those two grown muthafuckas would rather lock their selves in their room all day and get high, while I am stuck babysitting lil man. May his soul rests in peace, if Pac was still alive, he would've been had custody of his son. Omari does not deserve Brooke for a mother. Every morning I would witness the hiefa get up at noon knowing good damn well that Omari wakes up at seven every morning. She does not bother to fix him anything to eat or anything. I take care of the boy, if you ask me.

    "The fuck?" She shouts out in anger, really sitting there with envy written all over her face. I took a minute to collect my thoughts. I am two seconds away from slapping the shit out of the hiefa. I don't know if Devante officially called it off with Brooke. In her mind, they are still happily engaged; little does she know, their wedding has been called off.

    "The hell you in here yellin' about now?" Nathan, dressed in expensive gear from head to toe, came strolling in the living room with Omari following closely behind. Omari usually chills by his self or sit in the corner all day and read books. The boy is quite intelligent for his age.

    "The fact that you ex-bitch is knocked up by my ex." She explains, pulling a Newport cigarette from her bra, and without thinking twice, sparked it. I shot her a disgusted look.

    "Really Brooke? You would smoke that nasty shit in front of your son knowing he has asthma?"

    Sucking her teeth, she replied in a nasty tone. "Omari knows to get the fuck out of my face while I'm smoking. Plus, the lil nigga 'bout to go stay with his grandmother. I can't do this single parent shit. I ain't cut out for that lifestyle."

    "And smokin' crack is?" I quizzed, cautiously fanning the smoke from my face, only for her to turn in my direction and blow smoke directly in my face.

    "Stop actin' all bougie and shit. Bitch, we all lived together at one point. We all seen each other's titties and shit. See, you need to find yourself somewhere else to stay. I can't deal with you and your pussy ass attitude."

    That is the shit that I am talking about. Brooke ain't been in this bitch for a good two weeks before she thinks she own the place. Nathan too. "And I can't wait until you get through to that little ass brain of yours that DEVANTE IS NO LONGER YOUR MAN!"