one I was referring to.
“Aight,” he agreed.
I hung up without saying more. I would say everything that I needed to say when we met up later.
I parked my car and headed inside the school to start my day. I was looking forward to ending things with Blunt once and for all.
Wrong Place At The Wrong Time
Molaysia
When the clock struck four, I was already parked outside the gym. I was on edge because on the drive over I thought that a car was following me. I discounted my suspicions as paranoia caused by all that was going on in my life.
Blunt pulled up and parked beside me. He crooked a finger at me, telling me to come to his car. I got out and marched from my car over to his vehicle. I opened the front passenger door and slid into the seat. Blunt had his cell phone to his ear talking over the sound of some rap music.
“Nigga, do you kno’ who the fuck you talkin’ to? I’ll murk you and yo’ whole fam,” he voiced.
Whoever he was talking to wasn’t backing down. I could hear the man throwing threats back. “Nigga, since you claiming to be a gorilla, come and see me, and I’m gon’ make sure your mama pull out her black dress.”
Blunt abruptly ended the call.
“You okay?” I asked.
Blunt’s fire-red eyes landed on me, and I could tell that he was furious with the person who he was beefing with. I began to feel nervous in his company. This was not the man that I thought I knew.
He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “What’s good, Boo?” he asked.
I mustered up a fake smile. “Hi.”
Blunt put the car in gear and drove off.
“Where are we going?” My voice trembled.
“I’m just ‘bout to bust some blocks and chop it up wit’ you.”
“Oh, okay.” I relaxed a bit, and we began to talk.
After expressing ourselves, we both agreed that it was best that we go our separate ways. "I'm sorry for lying to you and mistreating you. I should have just been honest about everything," he apologized.
“It makes me feel a little better to hear you say that,” I confessed. “The time isn't right, right now, but one day I hope we will be able to be friends.”
“Me too.“ He sounded sincere. Then, in the blink of an eye, he hit me with a question that I wasn’t ready for. “Where that bitch nigga, Rocco, be at?”
He paused, obviously waiting for me to answer. When I didn’t respond, he picked up where he'd left off. “Show me where he at right now!” His sudden mood swings made me wonder if he were on drugs.
He pulled the car over, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and snatched it so hard my head jerked. “When I was twisted the other night, he upped his strap on me. I’m gon’ show him that when I up my heater, I make it pop off.”
My head was hurting and a sharp pain shot through my head as he held his grip tighter. “I don’t know much about him,” I lied and used my hand to try to pry his from my hair.
“That nigga ain’t gon’ live long after pulling his strap out on me. He should of used it when he did that,” he raged.
“Please, take me back to my car,” I pleaded. But Blunt wasn't listening. He was amped up. The way he went from zero to a hundred so fast made me afraid that he was on drugs.
“Fuck you protecting that nigga for? He running dick up in you or something?” He let my hair go and mushed my face with his hand.
I didn't cower like he expected though. Instead, I went snap on his ass. “Fuck you. You never told me where your skanks lived.” I rubbed the sore spot in my head while giving him the evil eye. “When you had me, you didn’t appreciate me. So it’s over between us, and I am not telling you a damn thing,” I snapped off.
Blunt was mute.
He mashed his foot down on the accelerator, and we sped down the street. The roar of another vehicle came from behind us. I turned around in my seat and saw that it was the same car that had followed me earlier.
"Blunt, I think someone is following me," I cried as we slowed, then stopped for a red light.
"Why the fuck would someone be following you, Mo?" He sounded as if he thought I