I look over at the digital clock. It’s 1:22 A.M. What the fuck she want this time of night? I think, pressin’ the Talk button. “Yo,” I say into the phone.

“You still coming up here tomorrow?” she asks.

“We still fuckin’, right?”

She sucks her teeth. “Is that the only thing you interested in?”

“Hell yeah. You gotta problem wit’ that?”

“Well,” she says, pausin’, “I was hopin’ we could grab a bite to eat, then maybe catch a movie or something, first.”

I frown. For the last few weeks, fuckin’ is all we been talkin’ ’bout. Now all of a sudden this ho wanna be on some let’s-grab-a-bite-to-eat bull, like she tryna go out on a muthafuckin’ date. Fuck outta here! I think, do I tell this ho what she wants to hear, or do I keep shit real? I decide to give it to her straight, no chaser. “I’m tryna get this dick wet, baby. That’s it. You can save the extras for some other cat.”

Silence.

“Yo, you still there?”

“Yeah,” she says, soundin’ annoyed. “I’m still here.”

I feel myself ’bout to spaze out on her dizzy ass for callin’ here this time of night wit’ this stupid shit. I take a deep breath, spark up the half-smoked blunt layin’ in the ashtray on my nightstand, then take two long, deep pulls, holdin’ the smoke in my lungs ’til I calm myself down. I blow it out. “So, what’s good? We fuckin’ or not?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, aiight, then. That’s what it is. What, you done talked all that shit over the phone and now you gettin’ scared ’n shit?”

“I’m not scared.”

“Then why you call here tryna front on a muhfucka?”

“I told you. I was hoping we could go out somewhere, first.”

I take another pull offa my blunt, then slowly blow it out. “Nah, baby, it ain’t that kinda party. You been talkin’ a lotta good shit, now it’s time to show ’n prove. Let a muhfucka see if you really know howta throw that pussy up on a dick. ’Cause, on some real shit, I’m tryna snap ya spine.”