Even When It's Wrong Read online

  Even When It’s Wrong

  By: Nicole Jackson

  COPYRIGHT© 2017 Even When It’s Wrong by Nicole Jackson Published by Nicole Jackson Presents. Unless otherwise indicated, all materials on these pages are copyrighted by the Nicole Jackson. All rights reserved. No part of these pages, either text or image may be used for any purpose other than personal use. Therefore, reproduction, modification, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical or otherwise, for reasons other than personal use, is strictly prohibited without prior written permission.

  Chapter 1

  Mya

  “Look, look, do you see him?”

  I cut my eyes to the left, scoping out the scene, as my friend, Nisha, pointed him out. There were two dudes standing in front of the store, but immediately I knew who it was. The dude standing beside him…didn’t hold a candle. “Yeah, I see him. So what?”

  “So what?” Nisha dramatically leaned her head back. “Do you not see that nigga? You don’t see them fuckin’ waves. I’m seasick,” she held her stomach. “That caramel skin gotta be edible, and I know big girls love to eat.”

  I sucked my teeth. “Fuck you.”

  “Don’t take it like that. I’m just saying. The nigga is beautiful. He got them deep ass dimples when he smiles. Got pretty white teeth. And look at all those tats. My God. I’m in love,” she swooned.

  I rolled my eyes, as I listened to her drool over some local d-boy. Well, I was assuming that he was a d-boy, but I really didn’t know. We’d only seen him a handful of times in recent days, and he was always on the block, which in my mind meant that he was selling dope. Those type of dudes loved to hang at the store, and a few of them would try to holler at me. None of them were ever cute, therefore I was really not concerned about ole boy. Clearly, he was out of my league.

  At seventeen my peers wouldn’t let me forget that I was chubby. All my friends laughed about it, and I seemed to attract the ugliest boys. So, I’d never dare to entertain the idea of snagging a dude like the one Nisha was panting over. Hell, she was slim, and cute, but I don’t even think she stood a chance. The boy was walking perfection, and seemed completely grown. Like in his twenties. Still, I knew that age didn’t matter. Several of my friends had boyfriends in their early twenties, but none were as handsome as him.

  “Nisha, you know that dude is too old,” I commented.

  “Girl, please. I’m old enough to take that dick. That’s all that matters to these niggas.”

  “If you say so,” I sighed, as we stepped up to the store.

  Like always, Nisha’s crush, and his boy were eyeing her, while seeing right past me. “Come here, lil’ mama,” his boy commanded, halting her in her tracks.

  Nisha spun around. “Huh, what’s up?”

  The dude licked his lips. “Where your lil’ sexy ass going?”

  Nisha blushed. I could tell that she liked what the dude was saying. After taking a better look at him, he was cute. His boy just unintentionally dimmed his light a bit, but I could tell that Nisha would gladly heed his advances. Hell, he was cuter than her current lil’ dip.

  “I’m ‘bout to run in this store, real quick. Why?” she smiled, flirtatiously.

  The chocolate toned guy greedily rubbed his hands together. “That’s what’s up. You got a number or something?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded, as he pulled out his cell.

  I wasn’t surprised that she gave him some play. She seemed to always like whoever liked her. And her crush wasn’t paying her any mind, as he served a crack head a few rocks.

  After giving out her number, she couldn’t help herself. Nisha asked, “What’s your boy’s name?”

  The dude frowned. “Damn, you aint asked my name, yet.”

  “It’s not like that,” she giggled. “What’s your name?”

  “Neil,” he revealed. “Ms. Nosy. What’s yours?”

  “Oh, my bad. I was just asking, but I’m Nisha. And I might have a friend for him. I think he’d like her when he sees her,” she explained, obviously not talking about me, since I was standing right there.

  “Ion need no hook-ups, lil’ mama,” her crush spoke up, obviously overhearing her. “Yall keep that lil’ shit over there. I’m good. A nigga aint got time,” he swagged off.

  I aint gon front. Internally I smiled, because finally there was a nigga who didn’t find the bullshit she’d shoot out cute. At least there was one nigga around with half a brain.

  ******

  “Hey, Mya,” my neighbor, Quisha spoke, as she sat on the stairs in front of my apartment.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I spoke, as I shoved my key into the lock on my door.

  “Nothing,” she got out, as I pushed my front door open.

  Before she could finish her sentence, I was inside my crib, and shutting the door. Quisha’s messy ass could go on and on, and I really wasn’t in the mood. The only time she wasn’t talking was when she was feeding her face, but it was the end of the month, which meant that her food stamps were low.

  Glancing around, I realized that the living room was a hot mess. I wasn’t surprised. My mama never cleaned, and believed that doing so was strictly my responsibility. But I never understood how she thought that we were ever gonna get rid of the roaches, if she refused to clean after herself. Me cleaning up after I’d get out of school wasn’t cutting it.

  “Ugh, I can’t stand that lady,” I grumbled, as I stomped into the kitchen.

  Just as I’d suspected, the dishes were piled up, and the roaches were having a field day. “This shit is nasty, man,” I complained to myself, before pulling the icebox open.

  My stomach was growling, as I realized that all we had was a pack of wieners. “So, wieners and noodles it is,” I declared. “I can’t wait ‘til the weekend.”

  The weekend was the time that I’d get away from my mama, and visit my granny on my daddy’s side. My granny was pretty cool…well, she was better than my mama, so I visited her every chance I got. Over there at her house, I could eat until my heart was content, and she’d always send me home with a few dollars in my pocket. Honestly, I needed her help to make it.

  It was crazy how tight my mama was, when it came to me. No, she wasn’t some drug addict, and she didn’t abuse me. She just always seemed to have money for everything, but for the things I needed. Of course, she covered the necessities, and I ate whatever in the beginning of the month, when she’d first get her food stamps, but that two hundred dollars never lasted long. She received a total of $326 dollars in food stamps, but always sold $126 dollars off her card. She’d use that money to pay her cell phone bill, and my stomach would be touching my back in the process. It was a wonder of how my ass managed to remain plump, while scraping together food to eat at the end of the month. After thinking about it, it was probably the shit I’d be forced to eat, which was a bunch of unhealthy bullshit.

  By the last week of the month, all I ate was noodles, wieners, sausages, and tons of bread. Then I’d drink that ninety-nine-cent jug of juice that tasted like nothing but sugar water. My cousin who’d spent time in Harris county jail swore that those noodles were blowing my ass up, and I was beginning to believe her. In middle school, I was a size eight, but had now ballooned to a damn sixteen/eighteen, which was twice the size I used to be. But until I could get my money up, I was stuck eating whatever I could scavenge.

  Refusing to eat in a dirty kitchen, I washed the dishes, swept the floor, wiped down the counters, and cleaned the living room, before cooking my food. I then sat in front of the TV, watching the news. Shit, it wasn’t much else to choose from, since my mama hadn’t paid the cable bill. So, every day I’d sit there, while slurping on some good ole noodles.

  After stuffing my face, I was ready to
go to my room to avoid my mama coming in. Since she didn’t work that day, there was always the chance of her walking through the door, and I didn’t feel like being bothered. She’d always find something to bitch about, and I couldn’t afford another headache. So, I cleaned up behind myself, before heading to my room.

  Just as I’d left it, my box fan was blowing. My navy-blue school’s uniform shirt was attached to the fan, and waving. After my pockets got low, I had to hand wash my school clothes. It was nothing new, especially with a mama like mine.

  After gathering my nightie out of a dresser drawer, I decided to take a bath. So, I tipped my heavy ass to the bathroom. For a few seconds, I stopped to stare at myself in the mirror. Everything about me was dull, and I guess that’s why niggas never gave me a second glance. My caramel skin was once called magical, but that was back in middle school, years ago. Now, all I saw was fatness. Then despite my hefty size, my clothes were baggy, because my mama insisted that anything tight on my body’s frame would be completely inappropriate. Therefore, my belt was wrapped tightly around my waist to hold up my loose pants. The entire fit of my clothes gave me a three-months pregnant look that I absolutely loathed. Then sadly, there was nothing spectacular anywhere else to offset my lame ass attire. Hell, even my hair was just sitting there at the crown of my head in a loose bun. My hair actually extended beyond the middle of my back, but since my flat iron was broken I’d been forced to simply grease my hair every three days. Then to maintain some type of upkeep I’d swoop it all up into a ponytail, and wrap it with a silk scarf at night. By the time, I’d unwrap it I’d just have to lightly dab my edges with a little edge control. Clearly, with my limited resources, appearing decent was the ultimate goal, and actually looking nice wasn’t quite in my grasp.

  Since my mama wasn’t giving up any money, I could only count on the thirty of forty dollars my grandma would give any time I come over for the weekend. That money helped, but just with my necessities, after my mama would claim that she’d given what she could for the month; such as washing detergent, hair supplies, and feminine hygiene products. Therefore, I never had money for any extras, which was why I was determined to get a part-time job, although I hadn’t secured one, yet.

  But hey, it was what it was. There was no use in crying over my circumstances. I just patiently waited for the day that I’d be able to get all the shit I’d been deprived. My day was coming, and nobody could tell me differently.

  Omari

  “Nigga, what the fuck happened to us going to the studio?”

  Kells scratched his head. “Man, that nigga never called me back. But I know tomorrow’s a definite go. So, let’s just chill out tonight. She got all kinds of liquor in this bitch.”

  I frowned, as he referred to his old ass girlfriend. That bitch got on my nerves, and I really didn’t want to party with her. But I held my tongue because I was staying at her apartment. Me and Kells both were. I’d just recently gotten out of prison, and Kells’ bitch had graciously allowed me to crash at her spot. Still, I didn’t care for her, or her funky ass attitude, but my grandma had always told me to be quiet when I had my hand in the mouth of the lion.

  “If we gotta wait ‘til tomorrow, then so be it. But I think that I’ma burn. Besides, I need to bleed this fuckin’ block, anyway.”

  Kells sucked his teeth. “Main, I know you seen all them laws on Fondren. Now aint the time to be out there. We need to let all that bullshit die down, and while we doing that we might as well get fucked up,” he insisted.

  I lifted my chin. “You refuse to hang with these old hoes by yourself, nigga.”

  He chuckled. “Hell, nah. Shit, if I gotta suffer through it, then you do too. Fuck you thank this is?”

  I shook my head, as I rubbed my chin. “Okay, fuck it. I hope Glenda’s ass is the first one to fall out. She be talking too much shit when she gets a few drinks in her.”

  “Do she? She be wanting me to hem her ass up. She like when a nigga rough her ass up. That shit turns her old freaky ass on.”

  “Uh,” my body shuttered at the thought of him smashing her anorexic ass. She was practically skin and bones, but always wanted something stiff in her.

  “Aye, don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”

  We both stood to step out of the room. “Knock what, nigga? Her fuckin’ vertebrae?”

  “This nigga got jokes,” he grumbled, as we stepped into the hallway.

  “Tonight is the night that you make me a woman. You said that you be gentle with me. And I hope you will. I’m nervous, and I’m trembling. Waiting for you to walk in. I’m trying hard to relax, but I…just can’t keep still…”

  “Man…my mama be listening to this shit. How old is Glenda’s ass again?” I questioned.

  Kells kept a stupid grin plastered on his face, as we traveled to the living room.

  “Bout time yall joined the party. The fuck were yall doing back there?” Glenda pried, putting us on the spot.

  “Nothing, man. Watch out,” Kells licked his lips, as he tipped to the dining room table to fix himself a drink.

  I glanced around the small apartment, taking in all the unfamiliar faces. There were several people; men and women, sitting around laughing and talking loud. Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to mingle. I’d come home to nothing. Flat fucking broke. So, the only thing on my mind was a come-up. And I damn sure wasn’t gonna get it there.

  “Excuse me,” a soft voice whispered, as someone brushed past me.

  I gazed down, noticing a slim thick lil’ something. “You excused.” I locked eyes with her.

  An instant smile covered her face. “Oh, I know.” She placed her hands on her hips.

  I visually examined her body, and quickly came to the conclusion that she was sexy as fuck. Her yellow skin was tantalizing, and her body was curving in that tight ass dress. Definitely fuckable. Her face was oval shaped and cute, but I really couldn’t determine her age. But it really didn’t matter, because I knew that she was well beyond legal, if nothing else.

  “You see something you like?” she asked boldly, licking her full lips.

  I rubbed my hands together, as I licked my lips. “Perhaps.”

  “Perhaps?” she arched a brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she sassed, displaying her ghetto demeanor.

  “That means that I might like what I see,” I clarified for her.

  “Don’t they all,” she scoffed, as she arrogantly switched off.

  I shrugged her off, and flopped onto the couch. Apparently, ole girl wanted attention, as she swayed her sharp hips in the middle of the living room.

  “Aye!” she shouted. “This is my shit!” she shouted.

  “Now, Barbara, I don’t know how you’re gonna take this. Or whether you be cool, or come out of a bag on me. See, it really doesn’t make any difference. But it’s only fair that I let you know that the man you’re in love with…he’s mine. From the top of his head, to the bottom of his feet. The bed he sleeps in, and every piece of food he eats…” The old skool song blared from the stereo.

  “You see, I make it possible.” Ole girl pointed at her chest, really getting into the lyrics.

  “Woman to woman, if you ever been in love, then you would know how I feel…”

  I couldn’t stop laughing as ole girl performed, staring right at me. The song was old, but she seemed to have recently gone through the scenario the woman was singing about, because she was singing her heart out. All off key, and shit.

  “Here, nigga. Have a drink,” Kells handed me a cup of vodka and Sprite.

  Taking huge gulps, I kept my eyes glued on ole girl. She was rolling her hips, trying to entice me. Before long, I had a buzz, and a hard dick. Tauntingly, she wagged her tongue, as she ran her fingers through her weave. Giving her a wink, I stood up, and headed to the bathroom.

  Shutting the door behind me, I flicked on the light, and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My eyes were half-mast, and blood shot red. Still, I studied my reflection. It was weird as
hell, as I found myself realizing that this was now my life. I remembered clearly when bitches would lose their minds when I’d step onto the scene. Pretty Omari was the name they’d given me, and I used to hate that shit. My reddish-brown complexion and curly hair never helped matters, either. I was tall as fuck, always standing out in a crowd, equipped with a basketball player’s physique. But now without an ounce of real money, I was questioning if I was still the same nigga.

  Since the age of sixteen I’d been in the streets, getting it how I live. My mama always had some bullshit nigga living off her, and the older I became the more hostile those niggas would become towards me. So, I was constantly getting thrown out, and was forced to do whatever to survive. So, a nigga hustled. Hustled so hard that I put myself in a apartment, and car. Then came the bitches. Flocks of ‘em.

  Being a young nigga getting it, I didn’t bother with trying to commit to anybody. I was doing me, but the hoes were crazy over me. So, when I got sentenced to three years in the penitentiary at just eighteen, I had several broads fighting to visit me in the Harris county jail. However, after a year, none of those bitches remembered me. By the time I’d been released, I’d lost touch with every girl who’d sworn they loved me. Thankfully, my boy Kells had looked out for me, or else I would’ve been completely assed out.

  I was tripped out, when he revealed that he was kicking it with a thirty-eight-year-old woman, and was now living with her. I thought that my boy had lost his mind, until he clued me in on his way of thinking.

  “Nigga, you aint learned your lesson, yet?” he asked me, as we rode in Glenda’s Chrysler 300.

  “Learned what?” I cut my eyes at him.

  “That pulling that baddest bitches aint about shit.” He glanced at me. “I mean, you used to deal with the prettiest muthafuckas I’d ever seen. Had one for every day of the week. But them hoes flaked on you, before those fuckin cuffs clinked on your wrists. Most of ‘em didn’t care about fucking ya boys or anything else. Dealing with you was all about a look for them, and they never really gave a fuck about you. So, you came home to no support, even though about six different bitches was screaming ‘free my nigga’ on Facebook when the shit first went down. But look at ya boy. I’m riding in a new car, got a decent ass spot to rest my head at, have home cooked meals daily, dick sucks on demand, and some money in my pockets whenever a nigga is doing bad.”