Wifey: Part 2

“I’m quiet because I honestly don’t know the answer. It’s like when he wants to see me, he sees me, and when he wants to fuck with other bitches, he does. Right now, he down in Miami, getting money down there, and he’s been down there for a minute. Has he called me since he’s been there? Not one time. It’s like he’s running from me.”

“You got that suicide pussy, right?” Homicide joked and said.

Jasmine gave him a serious look.

“I’m just fucking wit’chu.” Homicide put a forkful of food in his mouth. “I know why you stressed.”

“I know too. I just told you why.”

Homicide shook his head. “Nah, you think that’s why you stressed, but you really stressed because you fuck with weak-ass muthafuckas.”

Jasmine just looked at Homicide.

“Your man is supposed to be more than just your man. He’s supposed to be your king and treat you like a queen, no matter what it takes. You feel me?”

Jasmine nodded.

“Like, on the real, if Nico was treating you like a queen, he would have had Black Justice touched from inside them prison walls. You know what I’m saying?”

Homicide ate some more food and then he continued on.

“Black Justice talking shit from behind bars, and Nico got his boys calling you basically on some he-said, she-said shit. That’s that weak-ass bullshit. And this nigga down in Florida with his feet in the sand while his people is up here in New York laid up in the hospital and having funerals and shit. That’s why you’re stressed; nothing more, nothing less.”

Jasmine had never thought about it from that standpoint, but she had to admit that Homicide was making a whole lot of sense.

“Niggas think the chips they holding is what makes them.” Homicide shook his head. “But that’s not it. What makes a real nigga is the heart he’s born with. That shit comes from Allah. You can’t manufacture heart. It don’t matter how much bread you holding.”

“That’s so true, and I didn’t even tell you that BJ was asking me if I was at the Knicks game wit’chu.”

“You should’ve told that nigga you was with me, and that you left with me. Fuck that bitch-ass nigga BJ!”

Jasmine laughed. She loved his confidence and his swagger.

“You know how women just on instinct can take care of babies and shit like that?”

Jasmine nodded her head.

“That’s because women are earths, and that shit is in y’all nature. But with niggas, we’re gods, and gods protect everything. You feel me?”

Jasmine nodded again.

“So if you ever fuckin’ with a nigga and you don’t feel safe, you fuckin’ with the wrong nigga.”

“Preach!” Jasmine jokingly said. She didn’t want to tell Homicide how his words were ringing so true to her. “See, I knew since fourth grade that you were a good catch.”

Homicide chuckled. “I’m too wild for your ass.”

Jasmine looked at him and slowly shook her head. She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek and then whispered that he wasn’t too wild for her.

Homicide knew he could have fucked Jasmine right then and there, but he wanted to stay focused on the reason that he had come to see her.

“So this nigga Nico is out of town, BJ is in the hospital, Lo and Bebo are dead, how the fuck them Ghetto Mafia niggas still eating?” Homicide asked.

“They still getting their money.”

“I know, but how?”

Jasmine wasn’t exactly sure, but she remembered what Simone had said about Ish. “You know Ish?”