Nasty Girls by Erick S. Gray Page A

as he let one loose up in me. And by his body movement, I knew he came lovely. A sista did her job.
    He was sprawled out on the bed, sweaty with me rested on top of him, panting lightly. The room smelled like sex.
    After a few moments passed, I looked at James and asked, “Baby, what happened that night?”
    â€œAbout what?” he countered, like he didn’t know what I meant.
    â€œRoscoe. Who did he murder?”
    â€œShit just got fucked up, Jade. You know we got enemies out there on them streets. You know how fucked up shit is,” he said, like he was angry with someone.
    â€œBut that night at the club? Who were y’all fighting?”
    â€œSome niggas that my man, Kay, had beef wit’. After y’all went into the bathroom, he came up to me and Roscoe and said niggas started beefin’ wit’ him by the door, and that one of ’em pulled out a knife and threatened to stab him. So you know, Kay, that’s my nigga, and we wasn’t tryin’ to hear it, so we stepped to them. A few unkindly words were exchanged, and then shit popped off. And they stabbed my nigga Row in his chest.”
    â€œWhat?” I said. “So why did you drop me off and leave?”
    â€œLike I said, Jade, shit went bad that night. It was drama, and you didn’t need to be in the middle of it. We were gonna take care of it. Roscoe caught a bad one.”
    â€œHis lawyer said he might plead for justified homicide. He said Roscoe shot in self-defense. But if not, maybe second-degree murder. But he said that they didn’t find a gun on the victim, and that there might be a credible witness to testify against Roscoe. If his case goes to trial, they might serve him wit’ twenty years if he gets convicted. But if he cops out, D.A. might give him ten.”
    James sighed. “Damn.”
    â€œWho did he shoot?” I asked.
    â€œJade, fo’ real, it’s a nigga that tried to come at us on some territory shit. Roscoe shot some nigga who felt big that night; some on-the-come-up nigga. That’s all you need to know. I don’t feel like discussin’ this now. I’m fuckin’ tired,” he said, laying his head back.
    I shoulda interrogated his ass first, and then give up the pussy. James had gotten what he wanted. He laid there with his head against the pillow with his eyes closed. I felt like playing Sherlock Holmes, but the dick wore me out a little, and I ended up falling asleep on his chest.

~ CHAPTER 7 ~
shy
    I swear I’m tired of crying. I’m all cried out right now. Why muthafuckas gotta be dumb? I wish someone would answer me that. It’s been a week since Roscoe’s incarceration, and I’m a fucking mess. I haven’t been to work, and I haven’t left the house, none of that shit.
    Camille and Jade, they’re constantly calling or coming by, acting like a bitch is gonna kill herself. But I keep telling them that I’m good. It ain’t like the nigga dead. Shit, he’ll probably get off or something. We don’t know that. He got a good lawyer who seems to know what the fuck he’s doing. And I believe that Roscoe’s lawyer is gonna take care of it. He gonna do my man right and have him acquitted of all charges. I believe that.
    I wanna see my man, though, and I’m waiting for his call. A week had passed and not one collect call from him. So right now, I’m kinda pissed.
    I know my man got clout up in them jails—he damn near ran shit in the hood. So I know he’s not getting punked for his phone time in his housing. He’s just probably too ignorant to call his girl and let me know what’s going on with him.
    I lay in bed, listening to the radio and thinking about my man. I started reminiscing about how we met, and the things we did. Two months into our relationship, I wanted to have his baby. But Roscoe wasn’t ready to have kids. He said to me that he didn’t want any of his