It’s Saturday night and you can’t believe you’re home. You graduated college just to be sitting in your mama basement. Tragic. Candice AKACandyDoingMeDaily Johnson update her status like, “looking for the turn up, where my real bitches at.” You think about it, but you ain’t finna text her, that girl crazy.
Ya mama come home. She wanna know why that one fork, I’m sorry, all them dishes in still in the sink. You ain’t get a BS in Engineering for this BS. So you text Candice. “Girl where u at.” Not even 10 seconds later, she like “I’m on the way.” You sitting there like, you not gon tell me what we doing? But now ya mama is talking about how she the only one who ever work in the house and you tired of that song, so you get dressed.
Candice don’t even text. Her ass just blare the horn. But you could hear the Migos trapping out the speakers of her Toyota Camry from a block a way. When you open the car door, a puff a smoke greets you before she do. She like “WADDUP BITCH,” then pass you an open bottle of Henny. You look at her but you can’t tell if she drunk yet. You remind yourself, you really don’t want to be at home for when your mama get to Greatest Hits, Track 3, “Why yall got all these lights on in my house”
You ask her where yall going and she say, yall gotta pick up her boyfriend before heading to the club. Cool. A future mixtape later, yall pull up to a house. You got a contact high and a buzz. The night is breezy, ya booty look nice, AND Candice ain’t got you in the hood for once. You thinking she grew up. Go her. It’s actual trees on the street. Cars in the driveway. The air doesn’t faintly smell of Black and milds. Real shit, this bitch really moved up.
By the time she steps out the car this tall brother opens the door and he’s fine as shit. He’s dressed in Khaki pants and a collared tee. You might be, jealous? You looking at his skin looking like actual silk in the moonlight and you refuse to accept Candy Do Me Daily is pulling a more established nigga than college educated you. Witcha hating ass. So you tell yourself, he prolly living with his mama. He like, Come in ladies. His voice is like music. Marvin Gaye, “I want you” Music. You jealous.
You walk in and you immediately know, ain’t no Black mama in this house. There’s a questionable lacking amount of furniture in the room. Instead of a living room set, it’s chairs. randomly collected chairs. Like this nigga just stole one chair from 6 different table sets, and two lawn chairs. And there’s no table. It’s a crate with a cardboard box? You don’t wanna be too judgemental so you think to yourself, maybe he just moved. He instructs you to have a seat.
Your phone buzzes and you look down to reply. Intro Ashy. There’s always the gottdamn single friend who can’t pull a girl for himself so he always gotta be the one who gets a date by default. He come down this flight of stairs. You can already hear “where my hug at?” So you don’t look up. What he actually says is “where the drugs at?” Before you can even finish rolling your eyes to realize what he really said, you notice in the 30 seconds it took you to reply to a text message, these assholes started doing lines! Oh Candy’s nigga not so cute anymore, is he?
Now you wanna go home. But you can’t asked coked out Candice to do it. You wanna live to dread your school loan payments. You sitting here like, bitch since when? Ashy take a seat, and light a blunt. He offers it to you, but you too busy tryna figure out how you bout to get home. Cuz you’re not getting in the car with her. Look at uber and they estimating a good 30. Maybe you can last that long.
The boyfriend say to Candice, “Let’s go upstairs.” She giggling. You don’t wanna be left with Ashy so you say, “Candy I thought we was going to Secrets.” She tell you it’ll only be a few minutes. He say, “Yeah, iight.” You like word? This nigga just had to be a coke head. Anyway. Now you know you gotta go. You can’t be stuck down here for an indefinite amount of time with Ashy. Who has just asked you, “why you worried, I got you baby” Ah no you most certainly do not. You praying this Uber get green lights all the way down, pray he don’t cancel on you.
Boyfriend and Candice gone. Ashy phone buzz. He get up. leave the room. come back. 3 minutes later, same thing. That’s weird. But you not asking him no questions. Must not make Ashy think you really care to make conversation with him but then 4 minutes later, HE DO IT AGAIN. In his absence, you go looking for a bathroom. Once in the dirty cracked mirror you thinking, you could just stay in here, only 20 minutes. You could have the hypothetical shits. But you in this bathroom and, the plumbing don’t work. The toilet, rotted. No water. You’re like where the fuck am I? You have this one, grave, panicking thought. “Bitch, am I in a trap house?”
You exit the bathroom. Ashy sitting there looking like he lost his best friend….and last bottle of lotion. You like “yall don’t use the bathroom in here?” He like “O I thought you left.” Fam. If you don’t address the issue at hand… Bathroom? Toilet paper? He tells you it’s one upstairs. Next to the coked out sex? Why Lord? You look at ya phone and you got 18 minutes. You look at him. You look at the stairs. Back at him. Nah. You gon take the stairs.
You get upstairs and it’s pitch black. All you can here is what sound like somebody running in wet flip flops and what sounds like a very hurt gorilla. You really hope that is not what she sounds like in bed. You hope that it’s him. You open a door and it’s definitely not a bathroom. It’s fairly empty minus some suitcases and boxes. You get nosy and open one. Inside is what you know Gucci Mane dreams are made of, straight kilos. The doorbell rings and you jump.
You get out of this room and open another door. This time it is the bathroom. You’re locking the door as you hear a chorus of voices enter the house. Fuck. The only thing worst than one Ashy is a pack of ashies. You look at your phone and your uber is just 15 minutes away. You already thinking about how you finna block Candice when laughter erupts. More laughter. Few seconds more, more laughter. Somebody getting roasted you just know it. Prolly Ashy hairline. Shit looked like a line graph of Keri Hilson album sales. You just hoping it don’t come down to hurt feelings and guns.
And of course it fucking does. 5 minutes of you bargaining with Jesus for nothing. The minute a nigga say “on my mama,” fuckery is a foot. You start looking at the distance from the bathroom window to the ground cuz if they start shooting, fuck everything, you out. You’ll survive, but u prolly gon break something and it’s only this window or the front door. You text Candice that you bout to go. But when you put your ear to the door, you can hear that was a pointless gesture. Homie still in it. Damn he just had to be a crackhead! Focus. You got 10 minutes.
9 minutes and the voices are getting so loud you can’t hear Candice anymore. 8 minutes and it sounds like a high school lunchroom during a fight. Lawd Jeezus it’s a fight. You gotta get out. Back to the window, you have never ever, never ever, liked heights. You’re talking yourself up when before you know it, it’s minute 6 and someone fires a gun in the air and you know it because it comes right through the bathroom floor! You can’t be in shock long because you look back out the window and see flashing lights. Of course. It’s the suburbs. The police were called when the pack of them stepped out of their vehicles.
You leap out of the window and you cannot believe R Kelly’s “I believe I can fly” pops in your head. Because you definitely cant and land abruptly on yo ass in the bushes on the side of the house. Luckily the police cannot see you from where you land. You look at your phone and your Uber is estimated to be 4 minutes away. You have to be picked up somewhere else as to not look suspect. You begin dragging yourself alongside the house toward the back knowing there aren’t any alleys in nice suburbs. Just large backyards. You have to get to another street running through backyards. Lovely.
You get to the back of the house and who pops out but mother fucking Candice. You like…how? Apparently. There’s a way to get to the back door from the bedroom. Your tail bone wish you knew that. She tell you they shooting like you wasn’t 3 feet from having a second booty hole. Nah. You just outside limping like a Sunday pimp for nothing. Yall start running like all the other guys fleeing the house. You pick a direction they aren’t in. Candice still high, drunk, something so she following like her car ain’t on the front. You’re heading for some trees when someone grabs you.
They yank you back and your first instinct is to scream but they put their palm against your mouth with a blade in hand. He points a gun a Candice. He yells, “Bitch don’t move.” Candice stops. “Where’s the drugs?!” You can tell by his voice it’s Ashy. You mumble you don’t have any. “Not you, her” You just had to be slow enough to grab first. She say she don’t have any drugs. Girl why you always lying. You knew her purse looked heavy. That’s it. You survive this you going back to school. You’re not ready for the real world. Your phone starts ringing and you know it’s your Uber. You finna die to song of “Hotline Bling” cuz you too childish to have a default ringtone like the rest of us.
“Turn it off!” he say. Shit. The driver’s going to leave you. Even if you could answer it what are you gonna say, “hold on, I’m a hostage right now?” You put your hand in your pocket and hope you pressed answer when it stops ringing. He asks again, where are the drugs? Candice still playing dumb. He tell her dump the purse. She like nah boy you dumb I got expensive shit in here. You feel like he won’t really shoot her because that’ll draw the police attention. He say, “Imma give you one more chance.” He cocks the gun. She knows he’s not playing now. She say,“ please don’t shoot. The police—” “Bitch dump the bag!” When she does, it’s not drugs, but stacks of money. School loan money girl, down payment on a house money, shit the whole house money. You prolly would have forgave her for a stack of that but, lol yall finna die now. Dammit Candice.
He wrestles her to the ground, dropping the knife. Do you gotta stab this man? Like, you really can’t stand Candice right now, but you not finna let a grown man beat her ass. But you can hear the approach of police. You know in a place like this, you’re guilty until proven innocent, and even then, you still guilty. So you not taking your chances. Instead, because he’s in a table position above her, you kick him hard as you can in his balls. You leave Candice because that’s her bed now, she’ll be rescued. I mean she gon be jailed, but rescued. You grab a stack, cuz u a real one, and take off along the trees.
You take your phone out of your pocket and there’s been an ongoing call for 2:09 minutes. Holy Shit! Hello you gasp. He’s says, “shit, are you okay?” You look back quickly, and say you’re fine. But you have to meet him elsewhere. He’d be more than happy to. You get out to a street. Pine, it’s called of course, because the streets are always named after trees in Suburbs. He says give him a minute. You can’t stop looking behind you.
It only takes him 30 seconds tho, you hop in. It smells nice. He looks back at you and ask are you alright. He has the kindest eyes and a genuine smile. You sitting there like girl, you bet not. Inappropriate much? But fuck that you almost just died. Shoot your shot. But you tell him to just go! He’s halfway down the block when you see a girl running. You tell him to stop, cuz you know it’s Candice. When she gets in she tells you she left everything, even her keys. Great now she gotta ride with you.
He thought it was very noble of you to stop for a girl who damn near had you killed. And that is how you met your baby daddy aka your husband.
Published
Mooncustafer 