Free The Real Trap Wives Of Memphis by Monica Parker Page B

hit up my line up.
    “What's up, Yara?”
    “What's wrong?” she asked.
    “What do you mean what's wrong?” I asked.
    “I see that you're pulling out of my driveway. If you're going to get condoms, I already have them on deck, so you don’t have to leave!”
    “I’m not going to get condoms, Yara. Something came up and I have to go,” I said. I could hear the irritation in her voice as she popped her gum loudly in my ear.
    “I thought that we had plans tonight,” Yara whined, “And you know how I get when I don't get no Daddy dick. You can’t have me getting myself all worked up just for you to leave me sitting here looking stupid.”
    I started laughing under my breath at how addicted she was too my king size dick. “Baby girl I got to leave, we can't do this tonight,” I said again, hoping she would let me go without all the drama.
    “Ooh let me guess. Your wife must be demanding that you bring that ass home to her tonight, so you’re being a good little bitch. I can't at least taste it? I can’t get my throat coated one time?”
    “Hoe I don't have to explain a damn thing to you; you the side bitch. Get your thirsty hoe-ass off my line and don’t you ever fix your lips to call me a bitch again or you already know what it is. I don’t have to put a hand on you when so many bitches will do it for the free. You forgot how many niggas you fuck with that go home to their girl every night.” She knew the rules when it came down to speaking on my wife. Speaking on Alisha was a deal breaker and against all my rules. I didn't give Yara time to speak. I simply hung up the phone in her face in mid-sentence. This would definitely be the last time she’d see or hear from me.
    I wasted no time flying down the street doing about 80 in a residential, trying to get home to my wife. I guess I didn't realize how fast I was driving because out of nowhere a police car came flying behind me flashing his red and blues. “Fuck my life!”

DAVION
     
                   Still no sign of Makayla and I was starting to lose it. I wasn’t a bitch-ass nigga, which was the only reason I didn’t burn up her shit too. The longer I called her and got no answer, the more my pressure built. I had been through three blunts and a pint of gin mixed with cranberry when my phone finally rang. I licked my lips, smiling before I answered. I knew she would bring her ass around.
                  “Yeah,” I answered slurring. Once I heard the recording from the jail my heart dropped. I listened to accept the charges and was put through.
                  “Nigga what the fuck you do?” I asked hastily.
                  “I don’t have a whole lot of time to explain. I have been calling Alisha and can’t reach her on the phone. I need you to hit her ASAP and tell her to grab that money out the Monopoly box,” Kortez said sounding frustrated.
                  “Monopoly money?” I questioned?
                  “It ain’t Monopoly money, nigga; I just stashed it in the box. She stays searching all through my shit sometimes. Anyway, tell her to get it ASAP and to get down here and get me out the box.”
                  “I’m on it right now, bruh.”  I disconnected the call immediately dialing Alisha’s number. Of course she didn’t answer so I hit Makayla whose phone was still going to voicemail. I finally hit Legacy last and when she didn’t answer I knew these bitches were together plotting as usual. I couldn’t figure out where they met up, but every time some shit went down those three got together and it was never at anybody’s house. I was the bad guy, though? At least Makayla knew where the fuck I was at most of the time, give or take when I went over Jasmine’s. This shit with her was all the way out of control and I was about to get to the bottom of it. But first things first, I had to help my nigga. It seems like my job was never done