I Wanna Be Bad For You Read online

  I Wanna Be Bad For You

  By N. Carmouche

  Copyright 2015 by Natavia Carmouche

  Published by Shan Presents

  All rights reserved

  www.shanpresents.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales or, is entirely coincidental.

  No portion of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without writer permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Acknowledgements

  What started as a hobby, simply passing around a notebook of stories amongst my friends has developed into this! Who would have guessed it?

  I would like to thank God and my family for keeping me encouraged as I ventured into the literary world with my very first publication. Nick, Jaiden, JaVaughn and Jourdan you have all been my biggest cheerleaders along the way and kept me encouraged even when I started doubting myself. If I don’t know anything else in this world I know that you guys will always have my back. My two mom’s Angela and Rosie, I love you guys. My cousin Regina Pouncy for being my biggest fan way before this story was even fully developed. And a very special thanks to my sisters Ashton and Devin as well as my brother from another mother Brandon, for being my test audience and giving brutal honesty and tremendous feedback as I developed this series. Thaina and Natalie, thank you guys for the constant “Sis are you done yet.” because it definitely made me want to continue to give you more. And to my very own “Cookie” Auntie Yolanda, I told you I was going to do it! To my family and friends I thank you all for the support, you guys really know how to make a girl feel special! And last but not least thank you Shan for giving me the platform to share my idea with the world. Chances like this don’t happen often so I appreciate you giving me mine. And I cannot forget…my AMAZING pen sisters, you all inspire me! I am a fan and feel blessed to be welcomed into the fold.

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  Devyn (Baby)

  “Listen… Don’t call my phone with this shit. If you say you pregnant by him, then call him, bitch! The last time I checked, I had a pussy, so either way you slice it, the kid don’t have nothing to do with me... So, get the fuck off my phone!” I yelled into my IPhone before hanging up.

  I let my feet dangle off the side of the bed and untied my silk scarf from my head, already feeling the onset of a bad day. I looked over at the opposite side of the bed and realized that that nigga didn’t even come home last night. He was getting bolder and more inconsiderate by the day, I see. Since I had been staying there, his nights out had become longer and longer, but it wasn’t until recently that he would stay gone all night. And, once again, the little thots he ran around with behind my back were calling my phone trying to stake their claim as his number one side chick.

  It never failed, just when shit was going good, Anthony could always find a way to fuck it up. This wasn’t the type of relationship little girls dreamed about growing up. This was some bullshit I couldn’t figure out how I’d gotten so caught up in, but I wasn’t about to sit around and play his fool, anymore. I decided that shit the last time one of his popcorn hoes popped out the woodwork. On the relationship scale of good and bad, we were already tipping well over the ‘beyond fucked up’ side of things, anyway. Over the course of this relationship, I had accepted everything from jail time to bastard children, all because I thought I was in love. I was starting to really understand what folks meant when they said their cup was full, because right about now, I was drowning in mines.

  It was only 7 o’clock, and I could already hear Anthony’s mom and sister arguing in the front room about a food stamp card. Why the fuck am I here?! I thought to myself, before grabbing my t-shirt from the bed post and heading to the bathroom to get myself together for the day. Our bedroom was right off the living room of the small three bedroom house that we shared with Anthony’s mother, her various boyfriends, his eighteen-year-old sister, Tiara, and her two kids. To say it was cramped was a supreme understatement.

  “Good morning, y’all!” I said, over their yelling, as I made my way down the hall without stopping. I caught Tiara rolling her eyes at my intrusion on, yet, another ratchet mother daughter battle, but I couldn’t care less. These people had gotten on my nerves for the last time, and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand how they hadn’t killed each other yet. Every day, there was an argument, and to deal with that type of stress, I could have stayed living with my own dysfunctional family.

  What was supposed to be a temporary stay had turned into a year long residency that I just wasn’t feeling anymore. Anthony had convinced me that staying with his family was best, for a little while after I’d turned nineteen, and left my mom’s house, following his release from yet another jail bid. At the time, I thought it was a great idea, because I hated my mother’s boyfriend and would have followed Anthony to the ends of the earth, simply, because I was so in love with him. Anthony figured that he could hustle and stack some money so that we could get our own place, and I could leave the drama of my household behind, but all it proved to be was another dream.

  I was fifteen when I’d met Anthony, or Ant for short, at the basketball courts, near Evanston Township High School. My cousin, Roy, lived over that way, and our family was having a get together. Just by watching him on the basketball court, I knew that he was the cause of moist panties for a few of the young girls sitting on the sidelines. Hell, I was one of them. He was the typical light-skinned pretty boy, with pretty brown eyes and “good” hair. He had a cocky attitude, and more times than none, he came off as an asshole. Ant had a little rep for himself as a local dope boy with a bad boy persona. All the makings of a teenage crush for girls like me.

  I was shocked when he even noticed me, and I almost fainted when I learned that he was grilling my cousin for my info. Needless to say, he became my first everything! And, if you would have talked to me nearly four years ago when we started dating, there was not a thing in this world anyone could have told me to make me look at him in a negative light. Anthony was two years older than me when we first got together, and let me tell you, it should have been illegal for him to be sexing my little fifteen year old coochie like he was. Once I got a little taste, I thought I had lost my mind. I was sneaking out of the house, fighting chicks in the street, and cutting friends and family off just to be with him. You know what that first little dose of teenage love do to you.

  My mother had despised Ant from the first time she laid eyes on him, but then again, she despised anything that didn’t contribute to her own selfish needs. My mother, Lena, and I usually fought like cats and dogs. More than half the time, I felt that it was because she felt the need to show out in front of her piece of shit boyfriend, Joe. He didn’t have children, and I don’t think he was too fond of the fact that I was Lena’s only child, so it was
safe to assume that he felt that I was in the way, and he treated me as such. Although I could never bring myself to physically put my hands on my mother, I grew tired of her feelings to fight me like a bitch off the street.

  For a while, Anthony was the only bright spot I had, and it was a complete turn-on when he’d defend me against my mom. He had me feeling like he was my very own knight in shining armor, so it was no surprise that, after my nineteenth birthday, I was out the door, determined to live the life Anthony had sold me on. Now, I was honestly starting to feel like moving me into his mother’s house was only his way of keeping me where he wanted me while allowing his circus crew of a family to stalk my every move. Even though my mother and I had nowhere near a perfect relationship, she did teach me the importance of stashing my own cash.

  I’d put a security deposit down on a two-bedroom apartment not far from Malcolm X College, where I’d recently enrolled for a few classes. I had picked up the keys before I went to work and planned on surprising Anthony that night. Initially, I wanted it as a spot for us, but at this point, I was feeling like FUCK HIM! I was sure that his ass hadn’t paid me any attention when I told him I had even enrolled in school.

  If Ant thought I would continue to just wait around, while he trolled the streets and field calls from his multitude of hood rats, he had another thing coming. I may have been young, but I was far from dumb, and the way I saw it, the only string he had holding me to him was now a thread. Although it crushed my heart to do it, I was actually glad that I had gotten that abortion last week. I knew that a child was a blessing, but the whole situation would have been cursed if these were the things I had to look forward to, and I refused to be stuck in the “baby mama” zone. Ant’s sister was a perfect example of what would lie ahead for me if I’d kept my baby, and I wanted more for myself than that, so I was more than thankful to be finally coming out of that trance that Ant had on me.

  ~~~

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, and my dark brown and honey-colored hair had started to unravel from the wrap I had combed it in before I went to bed the night before. My dark brown eyes looked drained, but still had a slight twinkle.

  “You still got a chance, youngin!” I said to my reflection, as I combed my shoulder-length hair out. I had made up my mind that, when I walked out the front door that day, I wasn’t going back. I went back to the small room that I shared with Ant and decided to send him a text.

  Me: Fuck this shit…I’m done!! You really expected me to take a lot of shit from you after I held you down when you was locked up for those 9 months. Wherever you slept last night is where your ass better stay… I hope you drowned in the pussy and made it worth it! And by the way….another one of your bitches claims to be pregnant…. Congrats… That’s the second THOT this week… Don’t bother looking for me!

  I hit send and shut my phone off not giving a damn what his response would be. If he was awake, I was sure that he would have started calling my phone yelling and throwing excuses about hugging the block like it would make a difference because my mind was already made up. Knowing I didn’t have much time before he showed up, I threw on some leggings, a tank top, and my Air Max, then put a few of my clothes into my Nike duffel bag and toted it out to my Nissan Altima. When I first started staying over there, a lot of my things mysteriously disappeared, so from that point on, I started keeping most of my things in my trunk, making this move that much easier. I worked too damn hard for Ant’s mama and sister to be stealing my shit. Marcy must have taken a break from arguing with her daughter, because she was standing on the porch watching me like a hawk, as she smoked a cigarette. She reminded me of Damon’s mom from Friday after Next; mustache and all.

  “Where the hell you running off to, Baby?” She asked me, calling me by my nickname.

  “I’m going to wash some clothes.” I lied, casually, as I closed my trunk. Being in this house, you would have thought that I was the one on probation and not her son the way they clocked me. Marcy was nosey, but she had always been somewhat nice to me. I knew that that was only because I was the only person in the house with a guaranteed pay check, which meant money she could borrow.

  “Bring me one of them Mexican corns on your way back.” She said, referring to the Elotes man that usually sold food in front of the laundry mat. I laughed in my head, because if she was hungry, she’d be starving, because little did she know that it would be a while before they saw my ass around there again.

  “Alright, I got you.” I said before jumping in my car and pulling off as casual as can be, feeling assured that I had made the right choice. Once I passed Wrigley Field, I powered my phone back on. I had thirteen voicemails, and every few seconds, my alert sounded signaling a new text message. I knew that Anthony had, most likely, been blowing up my line, but I ignored them all and dialed my cousin, Rina’s, number.

  “Bitch, do you see how nice it is outside today? Puhlease tell me you ain’t going to be cooped up with that nigga and you coming outside with me! And, why is he calling my phone, anyway?” My cousin answered. I laughed at how animated she always was. Out of everyone in my family that I still talked to, Rina and I were the closest, although we never got to hang out as much, because I was either at work or trying to play house with a nigga who wouldn’t stay in the house.

  “Do you ever just say hello when you pick up the phone?” I said, with a smile. “And to answer your question, he’s calling, because I left his ass. I’m free to do whatever I want now, Ms. Ri-Ri!”

  “Quit playin!!!!” She squealed. “I’m almost ready. Come pick me up, and let’s hit these streets before that nigga send the helicopters after your ass or you change your mind, Miss Independent!” She yelled.

  I told her that I would be there in the next thirty minutes. I knew that she would be beyond happy once she found out that I was moving to her neighborhood. I turned the music up and let Drake rap to me about his woes. I was feeling like I had just shed a ton a bricks, as I merged onto the Eisenhower Expressway. I pulled into my assigned parking space in my new complex and got out of my car. Damen Terraces was a gated apartment complex on the west side of the city. I had no worries about running into Anthony, seeing as though he lived all the way on the North side of town.

  I checked my reflection in the paint of my car and cracked a smile. I had a caramel-skinned complexion, almond shaped eyes, and a curvy 5’6” frame, with thick thighs and a flat belly. My naturally curly hair framed my round face, which always made people think I was younger than I was. I grabbed my bag from my trunk and headed into my new home. It may not have been much to some, but to me, it may as well had been a mansion. I was so accustomed to living with crowds of people that it would be nice having my own space for once.

  Since I hadn’t bought anything for the apartment yet, I dropped my bags, changed into some ripped jeans, a crop top and a fresh pair of Jordan’s, before I headed out the door to meet up with Rina. It was time to flap these wings a bit and start to take charge of my life… That was my first step.

  Rashaad

  I walked across the University of Chicago parking lot towards my all-white Porsche 911 grinning at my cell phone. Mesha had been calling and texting my phone during all my morning classes without a response from me, so she resorted to posting multiple Facebook status’ and tagging some fake profile that she had made for me in each one. My homie, Antwan, had sent me screenshots. Social networks and loud mouth hood rats had never been my thing, so it was funny that I was dealing with both wrapped up in one dealing with Mesha.

  I unlocked the doors, tossed my backpack in the backseat, and dialed Mesha’s number, as I leaned back in the peanut butter leather seats of my car.

  “SO I FINALLY GET YOUR FUCKING ATTENTION RASHAAD!” Mesha barked, picking up the phone on the first ring.

  “Shorty… I don’t know what type of nigga you take me for, but watch how the fuck you speak to me!” I spoke in my usual steady tone.

  I could hear her pause for a second; she usually
fell in line once she heard my voice. But for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why someone so beautiful was so comfortable with such a ratchet demeanor. Mesha had potential and she didn’t even realize it. If she could learn to shut up and calm down, I probably would have invested more time in her. I mean, she was beautiful, with her smooth, chocolate skin, dark brown eyes, long legs, thick thighs, and a face that reminded you of Naturi Naughton from Power, but her attitude was disgusting, and she lacked ambition.

  I’d met Mesha at a party a few months ago, but it didn’t take long after talking to her to realize that she brought nothing to the table, relationship wise. She was what somebody would consider a show piece, or a woman you bring around strictly to have something pretty to look at. A pretty face, with no substance. Even though she made decent money from working as a bank teller, she always had her hand out. I wasn’t in the market to fund a woman’s lifestyle. I was the type that needed a woman in my life that had ambition and drive to go out and, at least, try to get it on their own, and based off of everything that I’d seen from her, Mesha was the complete opposite. I don’t even think the word ‘independent’ was in her vocabulary. She was more of the type that would get you to buy her a five thousand dollar bag only to have twenty dollars and a bus pass in it.

  “I’m sorry, Shaad…but I know you seen me calling you all morning!” She said in a calmer tone. “I haven’t heard from you in two fucking days, and now you calling me trying to check me?”

  “Mesha, who made you my fucking keeper? Better yet, who made you my woman?” I asked, flipping down the visor and checking my lineup in the mirror. “I see you getting a little too attached, so maybe I need to fall back some since you can’t keep yourself in check. Ain’t you like twenty-five years old, Ma, and you posting angry shit and popping off on all on my phone and social media?” I said. She had no idea that I knew about the fake page she’d made so I was sure that that threw her for a loop.