Honey

2.) Can We Talk?

Trap watched the people he hired setting up his backyard. He'd paid for enough food and drinks to feed at least fifty people. He wasn't expecting that many, but better too much food than not enough.

He'd already specified the barbecue was twenty-one plus. He wasn't in the mood to be watching a bunch of snot-nose, bad-ass kids run around. He damn sure didn't want no little young high school girls thinking they could come acting grown. He was twenty-six, and he did not have time to catch a case over no li'l young girls. He was carding any face he didn't recognize. He didn't have time to babysit.

Trap was looking for a way out the game. A way to get legit before the Feds caught up with him. They always did sooner or later to those who felt untouchable. Wouldn't be him. So he went somewhere new and started over. He wanted to put his family up in a good neighborhood.

When he had his shit together, he would get his daughter, mom, and sister up with him.

Trap had a mother and a young sister down in Richmond that he sent money to and a friend in prison that he sent money and packages. His mother took care of his nine-month old daughter, Anastasia, until he could get her to him and not have to worry that it was a danger zone, but he missed his baby girl every day.

He and his baby's mom weren't on the best of terms when she had the baby. They had just broken off their engagement because they couldn't get right, but it didn't mean he didn't love her. He just knew they didn't need to be together. About eight months after she had Anastasia and right before he was leaving, she was bringing him the baby, and they got into a fight about her going to the club right after having a baby. When she left, she was hit by a Durango in her little Neon. She had been pronounced DOA. Trap was pissed at her. Still, he mourned his baby girl's loss the most.

When she woke back up, he had never been so happy to see her. He couldn't bear the idea of her missing their baby girl growing up. The idea of their baby girl not having her mother.

As Trap had gotten the grill completely assembled, Cash hit his line. "What up?" he answered.

"Aye, I'm'on have to slide through a li'l late. Myra over here on ten!" he said. Trap could hear a female in the back snapping. "Shut up, bitch!" Cash snapped.

"Who you talking to? Show out fo' that nigga if you wanna! That's some faggot shit! You bumpin' dicks, too, nigga?!"

Trap just hung up. He didn't want to be on the line when Cash throttled his girl for accusing him of being gay. That was some low shit.

He was glad that he had invited Honey personally. He just hoped the Hispanic one would make sure she showed her face. It was all he could do was hope.

Trap went and started his brand new grill, keeping an eye on the workers he had hired to set up. When they were done, he watched them to the door.

Cash shot him a text.

Fuck this bitch. Be thru in 2 hrs w/sisters n a friend

Trap laughed. But in truth, he couldn't wait for Honey to arrive. There was something about a challenge that appealed to him as a man. He wanted to be the one doing the pursuing. The woman played a smart game.

He went into the house and heard the house phone. Only his immediate family had the landline, so he picked up. "Hello?"

"Tristan!" Myia squeaked into the phone.

"Wassup, angel?" he asked his eight-year old sister. He could tell she was excited.

"Africa had the puppies," she sang.

Africa was the dog Trap had gotten for his sister along with his dog, Wolf. They were a shih tzu and a bichon-frise respectively. Trap had brought his bichon with him. That was his little man. He didn't have any sons, but he loved the hell out that little dog.