Honor Thy Thug - By Wahida Clark Page 0,31

and I can’t fault a nigga for that. You just like every other nigga that gets the pleasure of Tasha. You sprung the fuck out. The proof is in that long-ass letter going on and on and on about what you lost and what you wish you still had. Gonna write me a punk-ass letter. I can’t get over this shit. What? You ain’t got shit else to do? By the way, where your bitch at? You had a so-called bad bitch who held you down the whole time you was doing your bid, but as soon as you fell into this boss pussy, you forgot all about that bitch. I had your ass moaning and groaning my name. Tasha. While thinking, Mari who?

Oh, and I didn’t kill your seed. The little muthafucka committed suicide when it realized it wasn’t the child of a real boss. So fuck you and die, muthafucka!

The Boss Bitch,

Tasha Macklin Forever

P.S. Don’t contact me no more. Bitch!

With each paragraph I read, I pictured myself killing this bitch. She really had no clue who she was flappin’ off at the gums to. By the time I finished the letter, I couldn’t help but laugh. I’ma make this bitch eat all of these words. We’ll see who the fag is when my dick is all up in her guts. Did this bitch really say I was a revenge fuck? She don’t know I will destroy everything and everyone around her until I get her. Including them bastard ass kids. Yeah, I’m crazy bitch and I plan on showing you just how crazy.

I called Kendrick and told him that I was getting ready to call Trina and that I might need him.

“Nigga, it’s too soon for you to be hittin’ the streets,” he told me.

“Just be on stand-by.” I hung up on him.

I called Trina.

“Hello.”

“Hey.”

“Who is this?” she snapped.

“Kyron.”

Silence.

“Why are you whisper—oh, snap! Kyron. I forgot all about that.”

“It’s all good. I want you to set it up so that I can see Shorty.” I got straight to the point.

“Oh, no no no no no, Kyron! My sister is barely speaking to me as it is. Her man hates me, her best friends call me all kinds of conniving bitches, and your own brother won’t even give me the time of day. So no, no, no. I am not getting involved. No, Kyron. And listen to you, are you even well? You can barely talk, and you almost lost your life because of fucking with her. I would think that you learned some sort of a lesson from all of this and wouldn’t even think about fuckin’ with her.”

“You done?”

“Yeah, I’m done.” Trina popped off.

“Good. ’Cause I ain’t trying to hear all that psychobabble bullshit. Set it up. And do it within the next couple of days. Forty-eight hours, to be exact.” I ended the call, and she called right back. “Trina, this is not a game. You got forty-eight hours.”

“Or what, nigga?” she challenged me.

“Oh, you’ll know.” I didn’t have time to be playing games with this ho. I turned my phone off and dialed Kendrick from the house phone. I needed this bitch to take me seriously.

“Yo, whaddup?” he answered.

“You got that address for me, right?”

“Which one?”

“Kevin’s.”

“I put someone on it. Let me check and hit you back.”

TRINA

I needed to talk to somebody but had no clue who. That last phone call had me convinced that Kyron was a certified lunatic. Here this nigga was fresh out of the hospital, recovering from a life-threatening situation, and now he was running right back to the same trap that got him caught up in the first place. Insane! And he thought that I was going to get involved? I don’t think so. I learned my lesson. As a matter of fact, fuck Kyron! As far as I was concerned, he and everything that looked like him was dead to me. And the conversation we had never happened. And as I thought over it some more, I figured that now was just as good a time to let him know. I called him, and it went straight to voicemail.

“Aye, Kyron, check this out. I won’t be doing shit you tell me. Please leave me and my sister the fuck alone. You should be treating her like she got the plague and staying the fuck away! Don’t call my phone no more.”

KYRON

I couldn’t wait to see how the bitch would react to this. She had me fucked up. I listened

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