BJ remained quiet.
“And let me guess. Homicide is saying that he fucked me too, right? I’m just opening up my legs and fuckin’ everybody.”
“Nah, I told you what it is. If I was you, I would just stay in the crib, lay low until things blow over and Nico gets back in town.”
Jasmine didn’t say anything. She was too frustrated to speak.
“A’ight?”
“A’ight, BJ.” Jasmine blew some air into the phone. “Get through your surgery.”
“I will.”
With that, they ended the call, and Jasmine continued on her way to Nico’s house out in Long Island.
When she got there, she rolled some weed and smoked it while sitting on the deck overlooking the sprawling backyard. It didn’t help get her mind off what BJ had told her.
With her mind racing, she combed through her closets and picked out a bunch of outfits that she piled in to her truck. At that point, her desire to see Homicide wasn’t nearly as intense as it was before she’d spoken to BJ. But she knew she had a job to do despite how uneasy she was feeling.
Jasmine headed back toward SoHo. As soon as she pulled out of the circular driveway, her phone began to ring. It was Simone. The phone was on its third ring, and Jasmine contemplated if she should answer it or not. A big part of her wanted to send Simone to voice mail because she just didn’t want to deal with any more stress, drama, or gossip, but at the same time she felt like she had to know everything that was being said about her and exactly who was saying it. So although she didn’t want to, she answered Simone’s call and braced herself for any new drama that Simone might bring her way.
Thirty-Four
Every word that came out of Simone’s mouth seemed to be about Ish. She couldn’t stop gushing to Jasmine about how good Ish was treating her. She made it her business to tell Jasmine about the bags and the clothes he had given her, and about the cash he was giving to her to spend any way she pleased.
Simone was a jealous, envious bitch. Although they were friends, Jasmine knew Simone was always in a steady competition with her to look better, dress better, and have more than she had.
As Jasmine drove back to Manhattan, Simone would not shut up even for a moment for Jasmine to respond to anything she was saying.
“Look at me, just talking your head off.” Simone chuckled, sounding like a swimmer coming up for air. “So, anyway, what’s up with you? And how’s Nico? I haven’t heard you talking about him. And whenever I’m out with Ish, I don’t see him anywhere. Y’all still together, right?”
Jasmine rolled her eyes. If she could have reached through the phone and choked Simone until she passed out, she would have.
“Of course, we’re still together, Simone. I already told you he was in Miami doing his thing.”
“He’s still in Miami? You know he’s fuckin’ somebody down there.”
“Thank you, Simone. I really needed to hear that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Simone quickly replied.
Jasmine could almost feel Simone’s smile coming through the phone.
“I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. But I’m just saying . . . you know how these niggas are.”
Jasmine kept quiet. Her silence was Simone’s cue to continue on rambling about her and Ish.
“Yeah, what I’m saying . . . I knew Nico was still out of town because Ish told me that.”
“Do me a favor, Simone—When you’re all boo’d up with Ish and y’all are talking pillow talk or whatever, can you please leave me and Nico’s names out of your mouths?”
“No, we wasn’t talking about you and Nico like that. Ish was just telling me how he’s basically been running everything in Brooklyn and Queens since Nico’s been out of town, and with BJ in the hospital, and Lo and Bebo dead. That’s all.”
Jasmine sighed. “Running everything like what?”
“I don’t think I need to spell it out for you, Jasmine.”
“Actually, you don’t. Listen, I have to go. I’ll hit you up later.” Jasmine had had enough of Simone’s boasting. In a way though, she was glad that Simone spoke the way she did because it prevented her from slipping up and saying anything to her about her and Homicide, or about her apartment in SoHo.