one shots

shorty swing my way [39]

august 2004
monday
5:26 pm

"But, Mommy—"
"I told you not to talk to strangers, Stephen. I've told you that a thousand times. Now what if he had hurt you?" I scolded him while quickly leading him back to the car.
"Mommy, he—"

"Don't talk back to me, boy," I spoke through gritted teeth before opening the backseat door.
His lips zipped as he gazed up at me with his green eyes glossing over. I hated seeing my baby close to tears, but he knew better than to talk to 'strangers'. He knew not to take anything from them as well, so there was no reason I should've seen him reaching for a toy that D was giving him.

I buckled Stephen into his seat and slammed the door closed. As I circled the car, I heard my name being called. I glanced back to find DeAndré approaching, and the closer he got, the more apparent the thing on his face became.

"What the fuck is that on your face?" I cringed at his face tattoo.
"The fuck is that on your face?" he questioned my bruises while his face scrunched up as a way to mock me before he cracked a smile.

"Stay the fuck away from my son, DeAndré. . . Childish ass, psychotic ass nigga. Get a fucking life, and get a better fucking tattoo," I looked at him like he was the scum of the earth, which he is.
He laughed and continued to come closer toward me.

I quickly opened the driver side door and sat down, but he halted the door before it could close. "Get out of the car," his voice was low enough to where Steph couldn't hear him but deep enough to make me feel a certain type of way.

I simply smirked. "Or what?" I asked.
He wasted no time in crouching down, standing between me and the door and flashing his gun.

This nigga really had a damn gun at an elementary school.

"This could get real ugly for you, shorty. I'd hate to have my son see me kill his mother right in front of him," he stared up at me, his eyes cold and his face stoic.
"Hopefully, you're better with a gun than Ashley," I laughed lightly.

"You'll find out soon enough," he cracked another smirk and licked his lips.
I put my keys in the ignition and listened to the engine turn over. Just as I was about to urge him to step away from my car, I just searched his face for a moment.

His eyes were scanning my car briefly before he met my gaze. "Take care of yourself, Nay," he smirked, patting my thigh before standing. "See you around, Stephen," he smiled at my baby.

Stephen didn't say anything. He just stared up at D, silent tears running down his cheeks before he looked the opposite way, out of the nearest window. With that, D chuckled and closed my door for me.

My blood boiled as I watched DeAndré walk away. Once he was far enough away, I only pressed the gas a little bit before stepping on the brakes. I wanted to make sure my brake line hadn't been cut. Thankfully, it hadn't been, but I could tell he was thinking about it.

Note to self: find a bus schedule and your old bus pass.

I pulled out of my parking spot and drove right back into the 5:00 traffic. After a lingering silence in the car and occasionally glancing into the rear view mirror at Steph, I took a deep breath.

"Steph. . . Honeybun. . . I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. I just want to protect you, okay? There are some bad people in this world, and not all of them look like they're bad people, so it's hard to tell sometimes," I explained.
"But, Mommy. . . That man told me that he wasn't a stranger. He said that he knew you," he reasoned.
"Some strangers tell you that so they can make you comfortable enough to take you away from me," I nodded.