Ain't no hitta like the one I got: part one Read Free

penitentiary doing life. But something inside of me felt protective of shorty, so I decided to ask her one more time if she needed any help.
    “Are you sure that you are ok and don’t need anything?”
    Once again she shook her head no.
    “Ok if anything, I live downstairs and my name is Paper.”
    She nodded once again and I was out.
    When I got into the crib, I gave my grandmother a kiss, who was sitting down in the kitchen writing numbers for the lottery, some shit that she did on the daily. I looked into the fridge and noticed that she went grocery shopping without my help.
    “Ayo grandmother, why you ain’t wait for me, I would have gone with you, you know.”
    “Boy I can’t wait for you. Besides going shopping was the easy part, and a nice young lady helped me up the stairs, so I was good.”
    I thought about the fearful girl in the hallway and figured that it must have been her.
    “Did she say what her name was grandmother?”
    “Nope, but that child had the prettiest eyes, couldn’t tell if she was white or black though.”
    Yeah it was her, I thought to myself, as I walked to my room and texted this chick Tiffany that my boys and I were talking about earlier. Shit I ain’t have no pussy in a while, so I sure hope shorty was down for whatever tonight if she responded back. I jumped in the shower and threw on some fresh gear, and left out of the house to get some more roll up for the extra bag of weed that I had coped earlier. I didn’t bother to check if the fearful girl was still on the chairs because chances were that she was still there. On my way out of the corner store, I went into the chicken spot and bought a three piece chicken dinner and a biscuit and then I rolled back over to the crib. When I back got in the building, I tip toed up to the third flight of stairs that I had saw the girl from earlier and sho nuff there she was sleeping peacefully still clutching her garbage bag only this time, her hood was off and her brown blondish hair fell over her shoulders. Dam shorty was bad, with scratches and all on her face; shorty was a fucking ten plus plus in my book. I gently nudged her leg, and shorty’s eyes shot open in fear, “Relax, it’s only me, Paper. I bought you some food.”
    “No thank you, my boyfriend is going to buy me some food just as soon as he gets back.”
    “She finally speaks,” I smirked, “and what kind of man would leave his girl out in a hallway.”
    “My man”, she said with attitude.
    “Look I am not trying to be the bad guy; I am just trying to help you, what is your name?”
    “Willemena,”she replied almost hesitantly.
    “Well I am going to just leave this food right here,” I said sitting the bag on the bottom staircase and I turned around and left. She was stubborn, but I think that’s what I liked about her. As soon as I got back in the house, the shorty that I texted from earlier hit me back, so I asked her if I could come through, and she responded back quick like yes. So I was good to go. I went into the bathroom, brushed my low Cesar with waves, while I thought to myself that any bitch that if a bitch was willing to see a nigga after ten o clock, she must already know what it was. I hopped on the train and took that shit to grand central 42 nd street to catch the long island railroad, yeah; I only fucked with bitches outside my borough, never fucked with nothing close to home where it could get messy. Anyway this shorty didn’t even know where I lived, I told the bitch I was from New Jersey. I met her at a club in the city with my niggas, I peeped shorty take like three other niggas numbers after mine, so of course I wasn’t really serious about her, but she had red hair and a phatty, so it’s whatever. I fell asleep with my head on the glass window thinking about the girl in hallway. I wonder what her story was, and did she really have a man. If so who the fuck was this nigga? Cause I knew everyone in the building and there weren’t any young