The Kat Trap (31 page)

“It’s twisted muhfuckas like you and me who can do this shit in our sleep. It takes a cold, vengeful, mean-streaked muhfucka to look a nigga dead in his eyes, then smoke his ass and never blink. Somewhere in our twisted minds, we think ain’t shit wrong with takin’ a muhfucka out. And what keeps us doin’ this sick shit is the fact that we like takin’ chances, livin’ on the edge, thinkin’ we’ll never get caught. Killin’ is ya callin’, baby. You’ll be back. And when you ready, I’ma be here waitin’ for ya.”

Crazy thing, the nigga was right. It was in my blood. The thrill of the kill turned a bitch on. It overshadowed the risks. But it
cost me somethin.’ It cost me what was startin’ to feel like love, and the chance to finally be free.

I didn’t say shit else. I hung up and drove in silence, sparkin’ the half blunt that was in my ashtray. I took two long, deep pulls, then exhaled. I turned on the CD player, then pressed disc four. Lauryn Hill’s “Peace of Mind” blared through the speakers. I smoked and listened, lettin’ her words fill the car along with the weed smoke. Finally, a bitch broke down and cried—hard, clutchin’ the steerin’ wheel. Snot and spit was flyin’ e’erywhere. I cried for all the shit I kept locked inside of me over the years. But most of all, I cried knowin’ that no matter how much I might wanna walk away, in my heart, I knew a bitch like me would never have peace of mind. I knew the Kat Trap would be open again, and I’d fuck another nigga and smoke his ass with no hesitation; with no regret, and no fuckin’ remorse. And with the promise of good pussy, a slow wet dick suck, and toe-curling orgasms, another muhfucka would be lured into his grave. ’Cause I was
that
bitch!