Secrets of a Side Bitch 2 by Watkins Jessica

Author:Watkins, Jessica [Watkins, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Publisher: SBR Publications
Published: 2013-11-09T18:30:00+00:00

Eight

Chance

I had been serving for two weeks. It was a new spot, so product moved slowly at first. But Capone and Omari were right about it being a drought. Once the fiends smelled the heroine in the air and the party boys tasted the loud and molly, the block was jumping.

I was posted on the block like a mailbox. I didn’t care how cold it was; I stood outside all day and at all hours of the night serving every crack head, every street nigga, and every white boy. Capone bounced between the spots collecting money and watching the bitch in the kitchen cutting down bricks like a scientist. She was some white hype by the name of Paula that stayed cooking in that kitchen as long as she was able to cuff an eight ball of heroin in exchange for the work every night.

I barely saw Omari. He stayed low key. He was a private dude. When I would ask Capone about him, Capone was always mum’s the word. He only said that, after a situation a few months ago, Omari was hush-hush about the details of his personal life. Only certain people were privy to that information; basically, only Capone.

That was cool with me. I didn’t have to know anything about Omari. We didn’t have to be cool, and we didn’t have to be friends; as long as he let me get this money.

Finally the motel was no longer my home. If I wasn’t at the spot, I was at Gia’s crib fucking her brains out.

After serving two crack heads a couple bags of heroin, I checked my cell for the umpth-teenth time. Every time I checked it and saw that Simone still saw fit to ignore my calls and text messages, I got madder and madder. Despite the twenty-five degree day, my face was hot with rage at the audacity of this bitch. For all she knew, I was living on the streets with not a dollar to my name, and she didn’t even care enough to call and even act like she gave a fuck.

I was just calling her at this point to prove a point. I forced back that appalling feeling that being played gave me and kept working. Luckily, I didn’t even need that bitch anymore. The way that I was hustling, I was pocketing four to five hundred dollars a day. That weekend, I was copping a used whip. Capone knew a guy selling a 2001 Chevy for two grand. It probably would barely make it to Riverdale, but it was better than that cold ass bus.

All in all, things were finally looking up.

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