Chapter One
Sable
“What up, doe? You know what it is. Leave that message, and I’ll holla back. One,” Mike Mike’s thugged-out voicemail recording played into my ear. Low-keyed annoyed, I slammed the house phone down onto the receiver. Sucking my teeth, I swopped my long weave up into a ponytail, allowing a few loose strands to sculpt the sides of my jawline. This nigga got on my last nerve, not answering the phone when I already knew he was out here dead-ass wrong. What dude wasn’t? Knowing Mike Mike, my supposed man, he was probably posted up somewhere with another young girl getting his fat, black, uncircumcised dick slobbered on. Nevertheless, my pretty ass wasn’t about to lose no sleep on it, though. Good for the next bitch getting her knees dirty and a complimentary throat full of thick come. The more she swallowed, the less I’d have to.
“Oh well, guess I’m free a little while longer,” I spoke out into the empty house, shaking my head repeatedly. I paced back and forth on the hardwood floors, and betrayal was staring me head-on. He was starting to stay out, constantly claiming to be with his boys. But I wasn’t no fool—far from it. After all the years we’d known each other, I knew the tricks he was playing.
After checking the chipped red polish of a three-week-old manicure, I lit the flame to my last cherry-wrapped cigarillo. Hitting it a few times, I let a stream of smoke fill the air. I laughed again at how dumb of a girl Mike Mike took me for. Little did he know his bullshit had run its course, and it was now my time to shine. I’m definitely not in denial of who and what Mike Mike really was. He’s a hound dog for pussy, with an assembly line of simple-minded tricks willing to do handstands, belly crawls, and whatever else he demanded for milk shakes. He could continue to run wild. I was not about to squander my life babysitting and handcuffing him down to keep his dick in his pants.
Unlike most kept chicks with a street sponsor headlining their grind, I didn’t run up behind Mike Mike’s sour ass. I never checked text messages or call logs. And as for monitoring his time lines on social media, miss me with all that nonsense. I knew what was up with Mike Mike from jump street since our youth, but I got caught up in the hype. And like most females at some point, I thought my fine-wine pussy was gonna be good enough to keep him tied down. But, nope. Not in this world or any other planet you want to explore. Ain’t no keeping a man that don’t wanna be kept. That’s the first rule you learn in Bad Bitch Training 101.
Yeah, I know you’re wondering how I could go around, not giving two sweet fucks about his cheating ways. Or also him getting down on me with every hot heffa walking, willing to drop it low and spread it wide for him. But that nigga Mike Mike made heavy moves in the city of Detroit, making his pockets even deeper when shit was good. I was in love with the cash and wasn’t leaving the door open for another bitch to sneak in on my come-up, even if my man fell on hard times now and then.
First, him and all of that excessive drinking. That bullshit reminded me of my mother and made me sick to my stomach. With the combination of that, smoking weed, and them damn pills, our once-comfortable environment was the pits. Mike Mike had stopped paying the bills. We had shutoff notices left and right. And most humiliating, my prized custom-painted BMW had been repossessed one day when I was at the grocery store. I came outside, buggy full, and bam! My shit was getting placed on a flatbed. Thankfully, I had some cash of my own to get it back. But that was beyond the point. Mike Mike was supposed to pay the note and lied about doing so.
Then some of my jewelry had come up missing. He blamed it on one of my girls, but deep down inside, I knew it was him. Now, over the past few months, he’d come back up on the rise, moneywise, but was still getting high. I’d taken a lot from that man over the years, and he owed me big time.
I’d damn near tired myself out attempting to figure out Mike Mike. He was a puzzle, one I didn’t want to figure out. I’d lain back, stood up, and had lain back down once more. I was going insane. Getting up from our king-sized cherry oak bed, I stood in front of the floor-length mirror, sipping on my personal-sized chilled Sutter Home Moscato. The original six-pack was down to three, and I was planning on taking another one out shortly. Our flight was set to leave in a few hours, and I wanted my buzz to be just right for what needed to be pulled off. Getting over on Mike Mike wasn’t a small feat by far. The one-inch bruise on my cheek was proof enough that he’d pop off with no restraints.
Come on, bitch, Get your nerves right. I stared into my eye’s reflection, trying to find some courage. This wasn’t a rip-off I could do in my sleep. Walking into the closet we shared, I reached on the shelf. Putting both calf muscles to work, I pulled down Mike Mike’s safe deposit box full of cash. There were only two people in this world, him and me, trusted enough to know the combination.
Unlocking it quickly, I gasped at how much cash laid neatly stacked and rubber banded. Besides him cheating and getting high as of late, there was never a reason for me to dip ’cause Mike Mike kept my pockets on full now, and all other needs met. This money was set aside for emergencies only, but since he’d personally sent me traveling in an ambulance more than once, my case was definitely considered a crisis. Transferring one stack at a time from the box to my book bag, I left nothing to spare for Mike Mike to flip into. He deserved nothing, but I wanted him to have even less.
Roxanne, a.k.a. Roxy
“Oooh, girl, that’s right. Tilt your head back and take that dick,” Mike Mike grunted as I kneeled in front of him at his mercy. I closed my eyes and allowed him to pump himself in and out of my eager mouth as tears gathered in the corner of my eyes. He was face fucking me at full force. I dared not move as he grabbed the back of my head, holding me firmly in place, introducing the tip of his dick to my tonsils.
“Yup, hold it . . . right there.” Not being able to drill any farther, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his body began to jerk.
Moving my long, blond weave to the side with my right hand holding it in place, I allowed my tongue to slide up and down his nut sac. Imitating what I’d seen in pornos, I sucked and slurped hard, praying I was better than Holy Sable. The struggle was real for me, and swallowing her man’s thick cream would put me one step closer to knocking her unworthy ass off the throne.
“Damn, ma, all right then, do that shit.”
A smile spread across Roxy’s face, and even though she didn’t get the type of explosion he’d got to experience, him just being in bed with her was satisfaction enough. Relationships weren’t Roxy’s strong suit, always having a dude run her into the ground. But Mike Mike had promised her the world once Sable’s time expired, and that day wasn’t coming soon enough for Roxanne. Dumb and naive, she really thought he was gonna save her ass from the pole he’d found her on. To him, this was just some late-night, after-the-club sex—nothing more, but everything less.
Roxy couldn’t resist the good loving she was getting from Mike Mike. He was giving her hard dick and bubble gum, fucking her raw and rough, and she was eating it up. The last thing on his mind was the fact she was best friends with his girl. The pills and liquor he was off of had his mind spent. “I’m about to get in the shower, but I’ll bring you a rag to wipe up with,” I winked, dragging myself up from my earlier stance.
“Cool, that’s what’s up, baby. Gon’ and get that body together. I might smash that in the shower. Give you an extra taste of daddy dick before I go.”
“Um, yeah, I’d like that a lot, but you don’t have to go,” I whined, wishing he’d stay the night. Feeling a thump between my legs, I badly needed his caress and touch. Nothing in this world was a lower feeling than being the second-runner-up in a two-man race. Who wants to be the girl in the background?
“Come on, now, Roxy. You know Sable’s been blowing up this phone, and I’ve gotta get back to the crib.” He deflated my optimism, waving his iPhone in my face.
“I don’t give a fuck about that pampered princess.” I rolled my eyes, throwing shade his way. “She can call that mug until the battery dies, for all I care. Just stay here.” Annoyed and ready to throw an all-out tantrum, I stood my ground and refused to budge.
“Aww, that’s cute. You’re jealous of your best friend,” he laughed, mocking me as he made fun of our situation. “You’re already fucking her dude, babe, so I think it’s safe to say you’ve already got one up on her. You ain’t gotta go get all territorial on a nigga,” he jokingly replied, reaching for the washcloth on the nightstand. Wiping the pussy juice and slob from his still-thick, throbbing penis, he eyed me and flexed it my way, hinting for some more attention.
“Fuck you, nigga. I’m serious. You keep acting like you’re going to leave Sable but ain’t making no moves. Keeping me on a leash ain’t gonna work no more, Mike Mike. It’s time to make a decision.” Even though I was madly in love with my best friend’s man, I still got jealous every time he dissed me for her and couldn’t take no more.
“Damn, Roxy, you’re tripping,” he yelled, reaching for his boxers and jeans. It was apparent Mike Mike was about to run back to Sable, leaving me high and dry, plus lonely.
“Oh naw, nigga, I’m not the one tripping. You’re the one running your ass over here every chance you get,” I honestly pointed out, refusing to look like the thirsty go-getter I was. We both knew the truth, and I’d checked for him nonstop since my girl first brought him around. Mike Mike slipped on his jeans, his hoodie, and grey Foam Nikes. His swag couldn’t be copied or imitated, one of the many things that attracted me to Mike Mike initially.
“You pumped your own head up, thinking I was about to leave her. I know I ain’t told you no shit like that. Me and her go way back ever to be talking about parting ways. That part is a wrap—period.” By this time, he was standing firm to walk out the door, and my animosity had grown. How dare he just finish a fuck-fest marathon with me only to shoot me down on something more intimate and tangible. Even though I was holding back tears of regret and self-pity, it was a must for me to hold on to the last drop of self-esteem left. Mike Mike had made me feel low. The few dollars he’d leave on the nightstand and shut-off notices he’d saved me from was nothing compared to this humiliation or broken friendship rules committed.
“You ain’t shit, Mike Mike. Gon’ and get your dog ass up out of here. The door is that-a-way, but you’ve been through that bitch enough,” I sarcastically got grim, pointing him in the direction out.
“Girl, you ain’t nothing but a bootleg version of my girl, so save that guilt trip you trying to run. Don’t be dumb, Roxy. You knew what this was about when I first hit that,” he laughed again, grabbing at his nuts. As much as I daydreamed and fantasized about cooking and swallowing his babies every night, he was making my feelings turn sour with every word. “And truth be told, if I did—it wouldn’t be for you,” he continuously belittled me, driving the knife deeper into my heart.
“Get the fuck out of my house, Mike Mike,” I screamed at the top of my lungs as the tears forced their way through the thin barricade. I let them flow down my puffy cheeks freely as realization set in. What we had going was just a jump-off type thing, and he never had any real intentions of leaving Sable for me. My run-down, subsidized apartment, snot-nosed kids, and needy-ass ways kept me from truly having him, and for that alone—spite ran through my veins. “You ain’t moving fast enough, nigga.” I stood my ground, now letting my anger overpower the weakness he had me feeling.
“Oh, you can trust I’m about to be up out of here.” He turned to bounce, not even caring about the tears and snot freely running down my face. “You can hit a nigga up once you get yourself together.” He turned to eye me up and down. Going into his pocket, he tossed a few bills onto the dresser as usual and made good on his word about leaving. My momma didn’t raise no fool, and I hadn’t swallowed his nut for nothing, so the money wasn’t a factor in this conversation.
“The only person I’ll be calling is Sable—to apologize for my part and rat on your trifling ass.” For some reason, I had to test Mike Mike by having the last word. It had been rumored he’d beat a female’s ass, but my girl had never shared a firsthand account of having gotten swung on, so I took the tales as fiction.
Turning around, he grabbed my throat and rushed me toward the wall. Holding me with purpose and an ice-cold stare in his eyes, I regretted running my mouth so recklessly. “I’ll kill your trick ass, Roxy, and you can trust that. The day Sable or anyone brings your snake ass up to me is the one your funeral planning will start.” Mike Mike’s threat seemed real, and at that moment, I was scared straight.
“O-o-k-ay,” I was able to mutter through his tightly clenched fingers around my fragile throat. With no choice but to agree, I had to deal with the reality of being nothing to a nigga once again.
Mike Mike let me go and left, not caring about my sobs and begging for him to rethink the possibility of us. I felt like such a fool and looked even more pathetic. Hearing his ignition start and his tires burn rubber up the street away from my life, a full meltdown erupted. Kids in the back room or not, I couldn’t control the shame, guilt, and disgrace I felt.
Having to get my mind right and craft a plan, I sat down on the edge of the bed with a Kush blunt. Since Mike Mike was out of the picture, having him help with the next month’s rent was a no-go, so I didn’t have time to spare for recovery. Putting my weave into flexi rods and securing it tightly into a bonnet, I lit my blunt and let the smoke intoxicate my lungs and cloud my mind.
A new day was coming because I was getting tired of having men disrespect me and treat me like yesterday’s trash. Me having gone through this with the opposite sex my whole life, the entire dynamic of being a sidechick was, without doubt, played out. I had kids to worry about, but instead, my time had been devoted to Mike Mike’s trifling ass, hope-seller who did nothing but leave me alone to explain to my kids why another one bit the dust. From now on, it was about to be strictly my babies and me. No men and their dog-ass ways were allowed. There was no one to blame but myself. Stupid, dumb, naive-minded Roxy.
* * *
A short time later, the phone rang. Jumping up, I sprang across the room to answer it, desperately hoping it was Mike Mike calling to talk it out. No such luck, though.
“Hey, what’s up, girl?”
“Ugh, you don’t sound so excited to hear my voice.” Jazz annoyed me instantly. I didn’t want to take it out on her but now wasn’t the right time.
“It ain’t that, Jazz. The dude I’ve been telling you about just pissed me off and stormed out of here on some bad-boy shit,” I only half-confessed.
“Well, I hope you got your bread up for the trip ’cause the time has come.” She brought the conversation back to her once again since we were going for her birthday.
“Yeah yeah yeah. I’ve got my cash. You already know that’s a must. Anyway, let me get my gatherings straight, and I’ll be on my way.”
“All right, boo, I’ll see you in a few. Don’t fret. We’re going to paradise.” She was on ten about this vacation and had been for months. I tried not to be a hater and pop her bubble about the hype up she was giving Miami.
Don’t get me wrong; I loved my girls and was once loyal to the so-called team. But I’d outgrown that childhood “best friend” bullshit and was only out for me now.