She obeys me, and I start drilling her. Like any other time I initiate sex with her lately, I start thinking about how I saw she took out her birth control without telling me. I hate that I even had to find that shit out on my own.
I never had to do a deep dive into Sahara before. What you saw was what you got. Van kept her out of all her shit, and before I blew up, the most scandalous thing she did was search up actors shirtless.
But when she started switching up, I started keeping tabs on her, and I’m glad, too, or I would have been had a slip up with her ass.
In a way, it’s my fault. I changed just as much as she did. I’m just as fake as she is, foreal. We two peas in a pod.
Damn, I’m getting soft.
I take a step back, letting my dick slip out and hit my leg like a deflated balloon. This shit embarrassing as fuck, especially when Sahara stands up straight and whirls on me, brows furrowed.
“Wh-what? What’s wrong, baby?” she says, concern heavy in her voice.
I put on my clothes, not bothering to clean myself, and plop down on her couch. “I’m sorry, I just got in my mind.”
I lean back and rub my eyes, trying to relieve the pressure behind them that’s building.
Sahara takes that as a cue to straddle me, still naked. “Baby, talk to me. What’s wrong?”
I sigh and peer at her. “Same shit, Sahara. Different day.”
Her dainty hands rub up and down my arms, like she’s using the friction to build the courage to piss me off. It’s been the same conversation for weeks now. She asks me what’s wrong, like she doesn’t know my OG and Raya are dead. Then, she proceeds to make me even more mad.
“Let me make you feel better, Rahshad,” she coos, reaching for my shorts.
I grab her wrists and slide her off me before standing up. “Ima get up with you later.”
I guess that’s the wrong thing to do. ‘Cause she hops up and pushes me toward the door.
“I’m so tired of your fucking attitude! Why did you even come over here!”
When she goes to push me again, I turn around and grab her wrists, pulling her close. “Don’t put your hands on me, Sahara.”
My low tone makes her pause, but the anger’s still there in her pinched eyes and pursed lips. “I don’t get you. You don’t support my career–”
I laugh in her fucking face and let her go. “You have a fucking communications degree. Why are you on a reality tv show about side bitches when you’re not my sideline?”
She folds her arms again. “Could have fooled me the way you were on a date with that black bitch. The blogs are saying she’s your baby mama.”
“One: watch yo fucking mouth. I’m not gonna tell you that again. And two: you don’t even believe that shit. I’m not tryna have no kids, and you know that. Macy is Dal’s best friend. You met her at Brina’s baby shower… oh yeah, that’s right!” I clap in her face. “You ain’t come to film getting slapped at some hookah lounge.”
“Oh, fuck you, Shad. My ‘career’ you shit on? Bought this fucking highrise.”
“No, shorty.Ibought this fucking highrise. That bbl, and that jag you drive. Yo ‘career’ pays a light bill in this muthafucka, maybe. Paid off all yo loans for you to try and be the next viral moment, then got the nerve to drag me in it. You mention my name or put them cameras in my face again, I’m suing you and that fucking network.”
I turn and walk toward her door, but stop when a pillow knocks into the back of my head.
Sahara shrieks like a banshee. “What the fuck iswrongwith you?!”
My body suddenly feels tiny, too small to contain everything brewing inside of me. I grab the overpriced vase off her stupid end table and launch it into the opposite wall.
“MY FUCKING SISTER IS DEAD, NIGGA!”
Sahara has the good sense to look petrified, and I feed off that shit.
“You wanna know what’s wrong with me, Sahara?” I start taking steps toward her, over the glass and dumb ass marbles that filled the vase. For every step I take toward her, she takes a step back. Now she’s quiet. Now she’s scared.
“All of my immediate family is dead. My granddad; dead. Nana; dead. Pops; dead. Mama; dead. My baby s-sister… she’s dead. Oh, but that’s not all. My best friend? That nigga’s dead, too. The only nigga on this planet still breathing–barely at that–is my brother, who’s really my cousin. And my homie wants tokill him, too. I’m so fucked up I have seizures when I think too hard. And then I haveyo simple asstelling me the answer to all my problems is to have. A fucking. BABY.”
