“Of course you didn’t. You were too busy up there tryna rip that gal’s guts out. I’m surprised she didn’t shatter all my windows with all that damn yelling and screaming she was doing.” He stares at me, shakin’ his head. “I thought you were up there playing opera at first with all that damn ear-splitting screeching going on.”

I laugh, ploppin’ down onto the leather sofa. “Pops, you crazy.”

“Boy, I ain’t laughin’. You gonna have to stop bringing all them screeching-ass women up in my house, like this is some damn cathouse.”

“But what ’bout all them broads you used to have runnin’ through here?”

He tilts his head, raisin’ a brow. “Nigga, the last time I checked, I paid the bills here, so I can have as much pussy as I want comin’ in and outta here. But, you, on the other hand, can’t. Besides, that was then. And this is now. And right now, I’m not on it like that. At some point, a man needs to grow up, get anchored, and decide what he wants outta life, then live by it.”

I scratch my head, lookin’ at Pops like he has three heads or some shit. He’s soundin’ like a black Doctor Phil. “Pops, you sound like you ready to turn in ya playa card.”

“The day your mother put me out, my card had already expired. I was just holding on to it to keep from crying.”

“I hear you. But you were the one always tellin’ me that a man should always have more than one bit…uh, woman on his team.”

“Yeah, fool,” he says, walkin’ over to me and playfully poppin’ me upside the head, “but I didn’t say bring ’em up in here. You got your own place; fuck ’em there. Besides, that was my belief back then when I was young, dumb and ignorant.”

I pretend like I’m hurt, rubbin’ the side of my head. “Owww,” I say, jokin’. “You know I ain’t down for havin’ none of these broads knowin’ where I rest.” And that was on some real shit.