EIGHT

                                    

                                          
I looked up at the house. Here we go... I hadn't spoken to my dad in awhile. I just couldn't deal with his negativity. But, my mama encouraged me to see if, he'd sell the house either her or me. 
                          
Where was he? I had rung the bell 3 time. I heard footsteps and the door finally opened. 
                          
I smiled at him and he just stood there. "Whatchu want?" 
                          
Damn. I see he ain't changed much.  Lookin' down, I sighed. "Can I come in?" 
                          
Peaking around me, he smirked. "Where's your man?" 
                          
"Working." I said, knowing he wasn't gon' stop there. 
                          
Letting me in, I heard him chuckle. "Workin' huh? On that reality rap shit?" 
                          
Gritting my teeth I turned to him. "Will you sell me the house?" 
                          
"What?" 
                          
"Sell me the house. Would you?"
                          
His face fell and I just knew, he was gon' say somethin'. 
                          
"After you ran outta here with that wanna be thug? No." 
                          
I just sighed shaking my head. "You're the reason I left. The way you treated me, you think I shoulda stayed?" 
                          
Grabbing my elbow, he yanked me towards him. "I put a roof over your head! All the shit, I done for you, while your mama was out kickin' up and smokin' rock!  And you run off with that nigga!" 
                          
"He treats me better than you!" I snapped, pushing away. My patience was gone. "I came to ask you a question. I ain't come here to talk about my relationship!" 
                          
My head whipped to the left. A painful, stinging sensation was on my right cheek. Did he...?
                          
"Love..." 
                          
"Go to hell, for real." I ran out the house, holdin' back tears as I headed back to Shea's house. 
                          
Ion care what his parents say, my father isn't a "loving" person. From here on out, he ain't shit to me. 
-----
"Babbbby!" Shea yelled runnin' upstairs. 
                          
He was wearing a white shirt, with a yellow smiley face on it. Today, was the 'Pump It Up' interview. 
                          
"Yeah?" I asked, lookin' up from my book. 
                          
Gettin' in the bed, he scooped me up and kissed my lips. "Change your shirt, the people finna be here soon." 
                          
I giggled, "I ain't gon' be in the interview." 
                          
"Why not?" 
                          
"It's about you and N.W.A. Not me..." I said, laying a few kisses on his cheek. 
                          
Shea rubbed my side, smiling. "But you my support, I wantchu there." 
                          
For some reason, I didn't think it'd be a good idea for me to be in the interview. I felt like, people would have somethin' to say about it. Negative stuff, at least. 
                          
Plus, I had been reading over that packet from Jerry. I think, Shea needs to get somebody to explain some things to him. As I thought, Chris crossed my mind. What if she asks him, about that? 
                          
"What're you gon' say bout Chris?" I asked, stroking my hand through his hair. 
                          
"Nun'." 
                          
"Shea..." I smacked my teeth. "It's current news, and we're wrapped into it." 
                          
Shrugging his shoulders, Shea spoke. "I ain't do nun to Chris. That nigga shot me, and now he missin'. Karma." 
                          
Sometimes, his attitude gets on my nerves. "It ain't funny. What if—"