Free The Kat Trap by Cairo

call…” I waited for the computerized recording to finish, and pressed one. “Hello?”
    “Aye, yo…’bout time ya ass is pickin’ up. What, you ain’t got no love for a nigga? I’ve been tryna get at you for a minute, but you ain’t never home. What’s good with you? I hear you out there doin’ big things, shinin’ and flossin’ and got every nigga from here to Miami tryna get at your sexy ass.”
    I started laughin’. “You silly. Niggas ain’t checkin’ for me like that. It ain’t even that serious. I’m chillin’. Yeah, it’s been a while since we’ve talked. And nigga, you know I’ma always have love for you. I’m just doin’ me.”
    “Yeah, aiight. I can’t tell. I don’t get no letters, no visits, nothin’ from you. I thought we were bigger than that. I mean, damn! I know I’m not ya man ’n shit no more, but I’m sayin’…shoot a nigga a kite from time to time.”
    Humph. I wish the fuck I would . “You already know how I feel ’bout those visits. I’m not with ’em. And I ain’t beat for writin’ letters. I accept ya collects, so be thankful.”
    “Oh, word. It’s like that now? When I was out on the bricks you wasn’t talkin’ all slick ’n shit. Now a nigga on freeze and you all brand-new. I see how you doin’ it. It’s all good, though. A nigga ain’t gonna be down for long. The minute I touch, shit gon’ change. And you better have that pussy nice and tight, too. I don’t want you givin’ up my pussy to none of them punk-ass niggas.”
    I sighed. “Whatever, nigga!” I said angrily. “Why must we go through this shit every time you call? I didn’t get ya ass locked up, you did. Perhaps ya didn’t get the memo. So, let me give it to ya now: I ain’t no little-ass girl anymore. You can’t spit that shit to me and think it’s gonna be sweet. I’ma fuck who I wanna fuck.”
    “Yeah, aiight,” he said, soundin’ tight. I could tell by the tone in his voice that the idea of me ridin’ another nigga’s dick was a bit much for him. “So who you fuckin’?”
    “None of ya muhfuckin’ business, that’s who,” I said, rollin’ my eyes.
    He started laughin’. “Yeah, aiight. I’ma see what’s really good with you in a minute, baby. Believe that. Fuck ’round and I’ma have another case.”
    Whatever! He’s been sayin’ that “in a minute” mess for almost five damn years, and his ass was still sittin’ behind bars and barbed wire. I don’t know what kinda time clock he was usin’ but he needed a reality check, and quick. The nigga wasn’t punchin’ out anytime soon. I glanced at my 18kt timepiece dipped in ice. This nigga is burnin’ my jack with his bullshit, I thought. I really ain’t beat for this shit tonight. He got two more minutes, then I’ma bang on his ass. “Naheem, is there somethin’ you want? ’Cause if not, it’s been real. I got shit to do, so—”
    “Aye, yo…what’s good with ya peoples?” he asked, cuttin’ me off. “I hear they out there real reckless with theirs.”
    “What you talkin’ ’bout?” I asked, gettin’ ready to flip into bitch mode. “Reckless how?”
    “Well, from what I hear, ya girl Tamia out there bein’ a real rabbit, poppin’ E’s ’n shit, and suckin’ and fuckin’ everything wit’ a dick.” I twisted my lips. E pills? This nigga musta banged his head on his bunk for real, talkin’ that shit. Suckin’ and fuckin’, yeah, okay. And I know the bitch’ll get lifted off some smoke. But pills, nah, that ain’t even her flava. I kept my mouth shut, but inside I was ready to check his ass on the real. “And ya girl Iris out there fuckin’ wit’ this nigga from Long Island whose pushin’ major weight, and he got her frontin’ for him. And Tamia got that shit.”
    That shit? Of course a bitch’s first thought was the Alphabets, ’cause that’s the first thing you hear when someone’s talkin’ ’bout someone with the package. “What shit you talkin’ ’bout?” I