La Familia 2 by Paradise Gomez Page B

get her money. I got to that nigga first, fucked and sucked that nigga so good in the backroom, made that nigga suck on his thumb afterward. His money might be long, but his dick sure ain’t.”
    I laughed.
    Finally, she was ready to light it up so we could enjoy a wonderful high. I sat next to her on the couch. I wanted to forget about what I saw on BET. I didn’t mention it to her because I didn’t want her to be in my business. Kawanda was a talkative person and sometimes she could say too much around the wrong type of people. She sat back and lit up the blunt and took a few strong pulls. I could already smell the Haze permeating through my apartment. She passed me the blunt and lounged next to me. I took my few pulls and passed it back.
    â€œYou must came up last week wit’ that fine-ass white boy at the party,” she said.
    â€œWhat you mean?”
    â€œI mean that one nigga you fucked in the room, he was on the news the other day, and yo, they sayin’ that muthafucka is paid!” she proclaimed.
    â€œThe news? For what?”
    â€œThey sayin’ he was part of some big time Ponzi scheme that netted over something like hundreds of millions of dollars and he was one of the main niggas running it,” she informed me.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œHells yeah, girl. They had that nigga on the news with cops escorting the nigga out some fancy downtown building in handcuffs. I was like yoooo, that’s the muthafucka my homegirl fucked at the party last week,” she exclaimed ghetto loud.
    I was just glad it was just us two in the apartment. I didn’t need anyone else knowing my business, especially if I was turning tricks on the low.
    â€œDamn, Kawanda, can you say it any louder? You know my son is sleeping in the other room.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    I took a few more pulls from the burning blunt and felt my eyes getting seeded. The weed was good, had me feeling like I didn’t have a care about anything at the moment. I just sat there and felt high like a kite.
    â€œHe was cute, too,” I heard her say. “You never did tell me how much you came off wit’ when you fucked him.”
    It wasn’t her business to know. “And you never will know,” I said.
    â€œOh, so you keepin’ secrets from ya friend now.”
    â€œNo, but you don’t need to know.” I chuckled. She laughed quietly too.
    We continued smoking. My son was still sleeping. I thanked God he was giving me my moment to chill. I was too high at the moment to even hold him in my arms. Smoking also made me forget about what I saw earlier on BET, my rhymes being spit out of some other bitches’ mouths, and the betrayal I felt.
    â€œSammy, what you doin’ tomorrow night?” Kawanda asked.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI know ’bout this bachelor party in Brooklyn that’s supposed to pop off. I heard some heavy hitters are gonna come through and they want some fine-ass girls to dance and entertain them,” she mentioned. “You can make some serious money there.”
    I wasn’t fond of doing bachelor parties, especially in Brooklyn. Most times it was too many thirsty niggas and too little girls to please them, and it could be a hit or miss. You had no security to watch your back. And you left there with more regret than reward. At bachelor parties, especially the hood ones, niggas expected pussy and for you to suck their dicks; sometimes they could become a little too aggressive to get what they want. I wasn’t the one to turn tricks, but I’d heard many horror stories from girls who did these bachelor parties, and it was scary. A few months ago, they brutally raped this one dancer repeatedly, at least ten niggas ran the train on her and no one wore a condom while they raped her, and unfortunately she caught HIV.
    It scared me to death, knowing how my mother died from it. I refused to allow that type of problem into my life. That’s