Distractions (D. SWING)

39

A BIRTHDAY SPECIAL

The Show, The (After) Party, The Hotel

I guess it's safe to say that I ain't do this timing shit right. Look, niggas got nervous for a little bit. I had that shit, I swear I did. I had that shit in the palm of my hand. I don't even know why the fuck she was so worried about Dalvin. Nah, I'm lying. Yeah, I do know why. That ain't nobody fault but my own because now, she's focused on saving Buffy from a heartbreak. I sabotaged my own self on accident, know what I'm sayin', that's not even right. You know a nigga like me stay with some get-back though. I'm gone get this shit and wrap it up the moment Buffy ass is done talking my whole ear off. 

"I don't know why you telling me," I mumble.

Buffy crosses her legs. She manages to roll over on her suite's couch without spilling her drink. "I'm telling you because I don't know what to do," she whines.

I really feel bad for her. I'm not going into no long ass spill about how bad I feel, but y'all already know. Buffy getting fucked with no vaseline, period. She don't deserve that shit... but it ain't my business. I passed the ball to Nel 'cause I can't watch it no more. I know for a fact, literally, that my brother dealing with... shit... 'bout five trick right now. One of the randoms almost caught Nel's pregnant ass walking around. I had to check him on that because now he playing with me and mines. That nigga living his best life, and I fuck with that, but you can't live yo' best life at the expense of somebody else feelings... not Buffy's, at least. She ain't listen to me so hopefully she listen to Nel because I'm starting not to give a fuck. Once I don't give a fuck, Buffy gone need all the prayers she can get.

I shrug my shoulders.

"DeVante, come on!"

Smacking my lips, I let my hand wave off all of her negative energy. "Nah, man!" Buffy's eyes squint in my direction with a hint of disbelief. Nigga, you heard me. "Stop asking me what you should do. I done told you three times what you should do. If you don't believe me, I can't help you if you not listening."

Buffy says, "But you can't tell me how serious he is with these other girls? If they're a bunch of jump offs, I can ask him to drop them!"

Her sweet ass too sweet. She sound delusional. You'd think mothafuckas learn from secondhand experience. She must not. At this point, she almost damn near lookin' for trouble.

"You–" I drop my head, allowing my laughter to seep through my poker face. She not fucking with it, I know that she ain't. "Buffy, I can't tell you what to do. Any decisions from this point on gotta' be made for you by you." She groans and drinks whatever lil' somethin' she's got in her glass. "I gotta' girl. Matter o' fact, I'm gone go back to my room right na'." I throw a deuce to Buffy. "I'm out."

My body lifts itself up to dip on out of Buffy's room. We had a show last night and today's my birthday. Yeah, it's my birthday. On September 29, 1969, a real nigga was born to be dope as hell, blessed like hell, and rich as fuck. It's probably nine or ten in the morning, somewhere around there. It could be noon. I hadn't seen Nel in a week since our show in Oklahoma City. She flew out and made her way into the building, even though she stayed in the flats. Last night, she was front row with Honey and all of they homegirls. It's nothing in this whole world like being able to look somebody in the eye and you feel your heart just pounding. I missed her, no joke, and the very second we touched, I let her know what's up. I made up for lost time in the limo, in the elevator, on the couch, in the shower too. When we hit the bed, I made sure I knocked that shit out the park. We got a baby to make remember?