Honey, I F*cked The Plug 3

I screamed out the lyrics to Kitty’s latest hit that was rising the charts, surpassing all of the rap artists, male and female. Nothing about my life could relate to the lyrics. Kitty rapped about tricking men out of their pockets, finessing, robbing, sexing different men every other night, and selling kitty. Here I was reciting the lyrics word for word with my hand in the air with no care in the world. All of her music just made me feel like I was THAT bitch, although we came from different worlds, nobody couldn’t tell me I wasn’t a certified Kittyian.

“You hear that fuck niggaaaaaaa? If you don’t pay up, its finger to the trigger! Dope girl shit and my style super lit, I ain’t tryna meet ya mama BAD BITCH ZORIANA!!!”

I screamed my favorite part of the song as loud as my lungs would allow and it felt good that every person in the concert with me screamed the lyrics as well.

“I said I ain’t tryna meet yo bald headed ass mama nigga! I’ma bad bitch like muhfuckin ZORIANA!”

I was cheesing my ass off ass Kitty rocked the stage. That was my baby for real! I loved everything about her explicit ass lyrics with her pretty gangsta ass.

“God, did she have to put your name in the song?”

And just like that, my five minutes of fame was ruined. I ignored the negativity from my plus one and finished off the song. Putting on my own performance right there from my seat. I knew this was the last one because I knew the line up like the back of my hand. I’d had the time of my life at the Southern Jam concert and was glad that they decided to make Memphis the last stop on the tour because they definitely showed the fuck out! Since Kitty was from the city, she was able to close the show out and I must admit, she killed the stage. Kitty was the only female rapper on the tour, but she kept up like she was one of the guys. Her ratchet bangers kept her climbing the charts and although she rapped about tricking men, that didn’t dim her talent. She was a lyrical beast and that shit wasn’t up for debate. Everyone in the industry respected Kitty no matter how raunchy her lyrics were. Her beats were always a bop, most of them produced by Tay Keith, a Memphis native as well. He’d executively produced 2 out of her four albums. Kitty was earning a spot as the number one female rap artist in the world and I was her number one fan. She definitely was putting on for her city.

“As y’all know, this is my mothafuckin city-“ She started with her song fading in the distance. The Memphis Grizzlies fringe jumpsuit she was wearing fit her body like a glove and the blue long straight wig she sported with the costume, complimented her Hershey skin well. She looked the fuck goodt! Out of the three outfits and wig changes of the night, this one was for sure my favorite. Maybe because royal blue was my favorite color. Whatever the case, Kitty Grit was slaying shit. Her bold hair and exotic outfits earned her the title of Fashion icon of the south and I must admit, she deserved it!

“I was born and raised right here!” She spoke to the mic as her ass jiggled with each step across the stage while her dancers continued with their routine behind her.

“I had a whole lot of good memories and a whole lot of bad! All in all, I love my mothafuckin city! If it wasn’t for the M, I wouldn’t be the bad, getting money, rich ass bitch I am today! I wanna thank y’all for coming out! If it wasn’t for you, it wouldn’t be no Kitty Grit! I love y’all! And don’t forget, if that nigga don’t pay yo mothafuckin bills-“

“He know the mothafuckin drill!” I screamed out along with the rest of the crowd!

“Fuck ya meannnnn! Peace and love y’all! Memphis mothafucking Tennakey! I’m out!”

Confetti fell from the sky along with fire sprouting from the stage as Kitty took her bow.

I felt the heat all in my damn face and I was sure if the shit was any hotter, my lashes and brows would have turned to ash. Taking the handkerchief that I’d stolen from this nagging ass man, I dabbed the sweat from my face, careful not to ruin my light beat.

Kitty blew a kiss at the crowd and ran off the stage followed by her six dancers that were matching her but rocking chin length blue bobs and short pants Grizzly Rompers. I pressed stop on my camera as she disappeared to the back, careful not to delete my file. It was a must that I recorded her entire performance. I couldn’t wait to watch it over and over again. She killed that shit.

“Thank God that’s over with. Are you ready?”

While everyone was busy rushing out of the FedEx Form, I turned to my husband and scoffed. I couldn’t help but frown at not only his behavior, but at his wardrobe as well. Dressed as if he had just left the office instead of coming to a rap concert, Ansloe was in a pair of baby blue slacks, a baby blue plaid, long sleeved shirt, and brown Cole Haans. His ass had gotten hot somewhere down the line, so he ended up rolling his sleeves. Memphis was known for checking the shit out of a person, so the entire time we walked to our seats that were on the fifth row, his ass was insulted and laughed at. Damn, wassup Carlton looking ass nigga? You Uncle Phil’s son ain’t it? Square ass nigga! Gotcha Sunday best on ain’t it? Easter suit wearing ass nigga. Were among the few things we heard on the way to our seats. Being the good wife I was, I held my laughter. Instead of checking back, he continued to walk alongside me with his hands in his pockets. Like a true square.

I tucked my hair behind my ear and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself down. The entire show, Ansloe complained about the music being too loud, the explicit lyrics, the gang signs some of the rappers threw up, and the way the crowd would bump into him while turning up. I was so happy my cousin had come over while his ass was at work and we smoked a blunt before he came home. His uptight ass didn’t know about my little habit, and never would.

Once I was dressed, he almost had a heart attack. I was rocking black leather shorts with fishnet tights underneath, a fitted screen tee that was tucked in my shorts that displayed a picture of Kitty in a black and red leather bodysuit with a red wig licking a red lollipop. The black chain belt gave my fit an edgy look, and I had even splurged on a pair of white and red Jimmy Choo sneakers. I looked the fuck good. Much different from what my husband was used too, but I didn’t give a damn. If it wasn’t for my cousin, LaPrada, giving me a brand-new pair of fishnet tights, all of this fat ass would have been out.

“Come on. Why are you just standing here? We need to get through traffic-“

“Honey, I have backstage passes, or did you forget? Plus, I need to find LaPrada. I understand this isn’t your vibe, so I’ll meet you at home. K?”

LaPrada was set to ride with us to the concert, but once she saw what my husband was wearing, her ass called an Uber. Since she didn’t have a car, I really wanted her to ride with me and plus, she was my best friend. We planned on turning up the entire concert, because honestly, I thought my husband was bluffing when he told me he was coming along. Fooled the fuck out of me when he walked through the door ready to roll.

I held my backstage pass up that was around my neck and dangled it in his face. He was watching his surroundings and I couldn’t fault him for that, but he was wasting my time, debating some shit that was already set in stone. I would just take an Uber back with LaPrada if I had too, but I wasn’t leaving this forum and my night was far from over. Little did my husband know, I had a whole weekend planned that included me vibing with my people. I worked too damn hard and I’d been waiting on this show for six months now.

Ansloe finally eyed me again and licked his lips. My husband was an attractive man. He was mixed, so he had a head full of curly locs that he kept cut low. He had school boy looks and was skinny as fuck, but he was a cutie. The sex was good, he treated me well, and we had made a decent life for ourselves. We met two years after I graduated from college in Lowes home store, in the paint section. I was buying paint for an accent wall that I was doing in the bedroom of my one-bedroom apartment, and he was well, I really don’t know what he was doing. He complimented me, we made small talk that led to me giving him my number, and the rest was history.

Here we are four years later, married, no kids, no dogs but we were saving for a home. I loved Ansloe, but he could be so damn uptight and boring at times. I told him time after time that he needed to live a little. His ass was just too safe. We’d been dating for a year and married for three, and his ass had never felt this pussy raw. He strapped up each and every time, that’s just how safe the nigga was. He had our entire life written out on a timeline and kids wasn’t in his plans for another five years. I told that nigga he had me fucked up if he thought I was gona’ be married to his ass eight years before he gave me a baby. I wasn’t ready for a baby right now, because I wanted to travel and live my life a little more, but I wasn’t gon’ let his ass tell me when I could and couldn’t get pregnant. Hell, we hadn’t even taken a real vacation because all of his money was going towards our dream house, as he said. Note, I said his money because I did what the fuck I wanted to do with mine.

“Honey, I don’t feel comfortable with you going backstage with all of those thugs that were jumping around on the stage. One of them even had a gun, waving it to the crowd. What if it had went off?”

I held my laugh in thinking about how when the rapper, Pistol, waved a prop gun in the air and Ansloe dropped to his knees. That was some funny shit and I made sure to get it on camera.

My phone vibrated against my butt, so I pulled it up from my back pocket.

LaPrada: Bitch, ditch that lame ass nigga and come the fuck on.

Me: Fall up off my husband. Here I come!

LaPrada: Don’t bring his embarrassing ass back here! Dressed like a fucking road manager!

Me: Bye, Bitch!

I deleted the thread before focusing back on my husband. He hated when I cursed and would have a fit if he saw my cousin and I’s text exchange. To keep all of the confusion down, I would always delete our threads.

“Babe. Do you hear me? Those th-”

“Ansloe, move around. You are wasting time. Those are rappers. He was doing his job, hyping the crowd.” I shrugged. Pistol did that at every damn show. He would know if he kept up with hip hop.

“His job is almost killing a fan? That’s some darn job.” He frowned.

I took a deep breath because he was blowing my buzz. I’d gotten a walk-me-down during intermission, against his wishes, and it had done its job.

“Look. You have a pass as well. It came with your ticket, here.”

I pulled the pass from the same back pocket my phone was in and handed it to him.

“If it makes you feel better, you can come with. Now let’s go.”

I hooked my arms in his and made my way through the rows and to the entrance of where the backstage pass holders were to show their badges. Once I showed the guards our passes and we were searched as if we weren’t searched when we were granted entry into the show, we were off to the back. Behind stage was a whole show in itself. Entourages, rappers, stylist, and fans graced the hallways. I ignored the whistles and lustful stares, held my husband a little closer and didn’t stop until I got to the door that read Kitty Kat in bold orange letters.

I didn’t bother knocking and barged right it.

Kitty Kat was in the chair getting an orange lace front installed while LaPrada held the blue one up, examining it. Knowing her, she was picking out everything wrong with it. I told her ass to take her talents as a hair stylist seriously, but I was the only one in the world who knew she could slay a head since the only one she did was her own damn self.

Because of the way the room was made, I could see them, but they couldn’t see me. I waited until the makeup artist was finished drawing on Kitty Kat’s orange brows to match her wig, and then made my presence known.

“You killed itttttt!” I let go of Ansloe and ran to Kat. Her hairstylist was now done, so she hopped up out the chair in nothing but a robe, and we fell into each other’s embrace. Even after performing for an hour and thirty minutes, she still smelled good. Citrusy like.

“Bestie! I miss you so fucking much, man! Look at you! You so damn fine, bestie! Bad bitch, Zoriana!” She recited, and I turned around and began twerking on her as LaPrada ran up and started making it rain on me with what looked like flyers. Kitty Kat was rubbing on my ass and her makeup artist pulled out her phone and started recording us, chanting “Ayeeee! Ayyyeee!”

We were all in our own little world, having the time of our lives. It sucked having a best friend that you never saw because she was busy touring the world, but on the other hand, I was so fucking proud of her. My bitch was a real superstar and nobody couldn’t tell me she wasn’t gonna be bigger than Nicki. Although we Facetimed every other day, seeing her in person was a different feeling, especially since it had been a year since we were in each other’s presence. I mean, I had LaPrada, but I needed both my bitches around me. While I shook what my mama gave me, Ansloe cleared his throat. Party over.

“Honey, conduct yourself as my wife. Kat, that was a rather…interesting show.”

“His wack ass.”

I gave LaPrada a look as I pulled my leather shorts out of my coochie. I didn’t need them two to start up. LaPrada gave no fucks about what came out of her mouth, like Kat, while I was the nicer of us three. I told Ansloe to ignore her because she’d been outspoken and rude since we were kids, but he insisted on poking the bear every single time.

“Yea, only real niggas with deep pockets and long dicks can relate to the shit I be spitting about. Thanks for coming out, but we got Zoriana from here, Ronslow.”

“It’s Ansloe.” He argued.

“Yea, that’s what I said. I’ma go change, and do this meet and greet, so we can roll out.” Kat mugged Ansloe and turned to the bathroom slamming the door behind her. The hairstylist grabbed his things and made his exit out of the room as well.

LaPrada had started chatting with the makeup artist, so that gave me the green light to dismiss my husband. I let him walk me backstage, and now, it was time for him to go. Since he had a business trip to attend, I made the decision to stay at Kat’s Airbnb for the weekend. He knew this shit already, so I was trying to figure out why he was even still here. Knowing he couldn’t stand my folks.

“Ansloe. As you can see, I’m good here. I know you have an early flight to catch. Text me when you get in and I’ll see you Tuesday. Okay?”

“Honey, I don’t know about this. You’re just so different from those two. They’re ghetto, loud, and rough; you’re so delicate.”

“I heard that shit, fuck nigga!” LaPrada interrupted.

I gave Ansloe a look, telling him to ignore LaPrada. I was so over constantly getting on them about disrespecting my husband because he disrespected them just as much, if not more.

“Babe. Honey. Go home. I’m fine. Don’t wor-”

Knock Knock! “Aye, sis, you descent?”

A head popped in the door and I immediately recognized it as fine ass Taz, part one of the R&B group, Gangsta Vibez. He and his twin brother, Mania, who was identically fine, were R&B singers. The reason why they continually top the charts was not only because they had hit after hit and they were sexy and thugged out, but because of their singing style. They were on their Tank shit with a street nigga twist to it. I’d never met them, although I’d met quite a few stars being best friends with Kitty Kat. I wasn’t hung up on celebrities though, and I would never lust a man as a married woman, especially in front of my husband, but fine is fine.

“She’s getting dressed, bro. YOU did good out there.” The make-up artist spoke up.

Taz smirked and made his way in the room, closing the door behind him. He nodded at me as a way to say wassup and licked his lips at LaPrada. I couldn’t blame him. Cousin was fine.

“So, I was the only one that did good, hunh?” He asked her as he sat in the stylist chair that Kat was once in. He was even dressed like a rapper, clad in designer jeans, Jordan ones, a jersey that fit just right and showed off his muscles and tattoos, with a plethora of diamond chains that cost three times that so-called dream house that Ansloe was saving for.

“Yeap. Just you.” Mua scoffed.

Taz smiled, blinding us with a mouth full of diamonds. Damn, this nigga was fine.

“Just me and not your husband?” He challenged. I could tell he was getting a kick out of fucking with the Mua.

“Aht Aht Aht. Soon to be EX husband, bruh bruh.”

He chuckled, “Yea, okay. But who is your peoples?” He asked, but the way he was eyeing LaPrada, I could tell he didn’t give a damn about me. I wasn’t hating though. Married or not, I wasn’t interested. I just thought he was fine like every other woman in the world.

“Oh. This is LaPrada, that’s Zoriana.” She introduced, ignoring Ansloe like Taz had.

“Nice to meet you ladies. LaPrada. Hmm.” My cousin finally pulled her head up from the phone, more than likely watching her own damn snap stories like she always did, and turned her lip up at Taz before pushing her head back in her phone. She didn’t play that shit. She didn’t give a damn if you were the president of the United States, she wasn’t acknowledging you if she didn’t want to. She got that shit from our crazy ass mamas. The two sisters had it bad. That’s why I was shocked that the MUA got her to talk. When I first started hanging with Kitty Kat, she wasn’t rocking with her like that. She would always say, “That’s YOUR friend” but eventually she gave in. They weren’t besties, but they loved and respected each other.

Taz smiled and stroked his goatee that was the same texture as the deep sea waves on his head.

“Y’all coming out to the set tonight?”

“Naw mane, we in for the night. I ain’t seen my bitches in forever, so we chilling at the spot all weekend and catching up.”

Kat made an appearance, rocking Pale pink and orange Chanel sneakers, a long sleeved with the thumb insert pale pink spandex dress, showing her fat ass, wide hips, perky breast and flat stomach. My bestie was fine as fuck. Her orange wig and beat makeup complimented the outfit.

“Bitch, who in for the night? We turning the fuck up this weekend.” LaPrada finally got off her phone. Kitty Kat diverted her eyes to Ansloe who was busy watching me like a hawk.

“Aw yeah. We are in for the weekend. Pillow fights, girl talk, and room service type shit. Yeap, real PG.” LaPrada smiled. I couldn’t deal with these bitches at all.

“Well, Honey, I’m going to get going. Please don’t have my wife indulging in reckless activities.”

Bout fucking time.

“Nigga, take yo ass on. Your wife is a grown ass woman. Get the fuck on, dressed like a preachers son and shit. Fuck outta here.”

I heard Taz and the Mua laugh at LaPrada. Ansloe ignored her, gave me a kiss on the cheek and turned to leave.

“My nigga, you ain’t gone break yo gal off?” Taz quizzed.

“Excuse me?” Ansloe stopped in his tracks.

“Yo wife with her peoples for the weekend and you ain’t gone hit her off with no bread?”

Ansloe’s confusion plastered over his face.

“Nigga, he mean, you ain’t gone give yo WIFE no money?” LaPrada clarified.

Ansloe turned his nose up.

“Unlike you, LaPrada. My wife has her own money.” Before LaPrada could hit him with a comeback, he scurried out of the door.

“Nigga, you better had ranned’ out. That’s why i’ma make sure yo wife sit on the biggest and richest dick we can find. Fuck you mean! Lame ass nigga.”

We all laughed as LaPrada ran to the door, and shouted at Ansloe. She really couldn’t stand that man and at times, I couldn’t, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t love him.

“You wild, Shawty.” Taz lazily laughed at LaPrada as she slammed the door with a scowl on her face. Judging by the tightness of Taz’s chinky eyes and the faint smell of marijuana, he was high as a kite.

“Now that Urkle is gone, where is this set and who is the nigga throwing it?” Kitty Kat asked as she walked around the room making sure she wasn’t leaving shit behind. At one of her shows, she left her forty-thousand-dollar Tiger chain, although she got it back and even if she hadn’t, she was insured, she made sure to double check her dressing rooms and hotels. She wore so many chains that I was shocked that she even noticed it was missing, but tonight, she was only wearing a diamond Cuban with hanging baguettes that spelled out Kitty Kat.

“My nigga, Plug, and his patna, Hugz. He and I go way back. He having a lil after party at his crib tonight. Y’all should come through.”

“THE Plug? Yea, I know him. Well, I know of him. Huggies though? Never heard of him. Nessa you down? Because I know my bitches is with whatever I’m with.” Kitty Kat ended her search once she was satisfied that nothing remained left behind besides the left over food and fruit that the venue had provided.

“Manian ain’t gone be there, sis. That nigga got too high and had the driver take him back to the hotel.” Taz promised.

Nessa grabbed her kit and rolled her eyes. “Yea right. The nigga probably with a bitch. I’m down though. I AIN’T got shit else to do. I just need to get my kit to the room.”

Taz stood up and rubbed his hands together, still eyeing LaPrada who was now eating a plate of hot wings.

“Leave the kit, Nessa. Lorie gonna have it sent to the Airbnb. You not staying at no hotel when I got a five bedroom home rented for the weekend. Plus, i’ma need you to beat me and my bitches all weekend.”

“Periodt.” LaPrada cosigned with a mouth full of food.

“You need to check in with the baby daddy before we head out?” Kitty Kat asked LaPrada.

“You got a kid?” Taz asked with a raised brow.

“Two of the sumbitches. So you gone stop eye fucking me now that you know that?” LaPrada pointed a half-eaten wing at Taz.

He licked his bottom lip and headed for the door.

“I’ma text you the address.” He told Kat while giving LaPrada one last look.

“Bye, nigga.” She waved the chicken wing in the air, dismissing him. He chuckled and closed the door behind him.

“Taz is cool, sis. It’s his bitch ass brother that’s the fuck nigga. Word of advice, don’t get married. No offense to you, Zoriana.”

I shrugged at Nessa. “None taken.”

Ansloe could be a lame from time to time and he didn’t drink, smoke, nor turn up, but he kept our household in order, respected me, and he was a good man. He wasn’t the ideal husband for me in my friend’s eyes, but he was ideal for me.

“Girl, I’m straight on him.”

Kitty Kat reached into LaPrada’s plate and got her last wing.

“All them damn wings and things over there for you and you wanna eat off my plate? Rich as you is and you still do that annoying shit.” LaPrada rolled her eyes and got up to throw her plate away.

My cousin is our brown skin beauty. She was killing it in a pair of denim ripped shorts that also ripped up the back, showing some of her ass cheeks, she too had on a top with a picture of Kitty Kat on it, but hers was a white bodysuit, and on her feet were a pair of pastel colored Jordan ones. Her hair being slayed in a black frontal bob, complimenting her pie face with the side part that she laid to the Gods. LaPrada even killed her makeup.

Nessa, dressed like a true MUA, had on a pair of Christian Dior chucks with a navy blue bodysuit that dipped low in the back with the Christian Dior piano style fanny pack around her waist. Her hair was styled in a half up half down wet and wavy frontal that too was melted and came down to her ass. It had to be about 32 inches. Nessa and I are the smaller of the pack, but our asses are fat, hips wide, and breast perky like Kitty Kat and LaPrada. She must have had some type of body shimmer on because her cool tan skin tone was glistening. Nessa was pretty as shit. Wherever we were headed. We were sure to shut shit down.

“Yours looked better, bitch.”

“Hoe.”

“Y’all do the most.” I playfully rolled my eyes.

“Y’all need something out of this kit before I lock it up? Lip glosses? Lipstick? Anything?”

“Yea, Whatever that pink nude gloss combo Kat had on during the Money over dick performance.” LaPrada spoke up as she cleaned her hands off with a wet wipe.

“I gotchu, boo.” Nessa got the items out of her case before locking it up. I had my gloss and liner in my guess pouch, so I was good. But her offer was sweet.

“Aite, bitches. Taz just texted me the location. Y’all ready to get lit? Like old times?”

“Like old times. Let’s turn the fuck up, hoesssssss!”

I shook my head at LaPrada and Kat. Vanessa seemed cool, but I hoped she could keep up because she was in for the weekend of her life. I was just gonna sit back, record, sip and smoke. All the things I couldn’t do with my husband. I missed my friend something terrible, but I was a married woman. I couldn’t be wild and free like I used to. Days doing careless acts and dealing with the consequences later were long gone. I lived a calm, peaceful, and busy life. If I wasn’t baking cakes, I was chilling with my husband or on ft with LaPrada and Kitty.

     I sent Ansloe an I love you text and was ready for whatever the fuck these fools had planned. I said a silent prayer that God watched over us and that I kept my composure. I may get a little high and drunk, but no matter how faded I was about to be, I was going to continue to honor my vows.