Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“For the hundredth time, I didn’t ask you for that money. You offered it, LeRon. I used it for my rent, some bills, and to pay toward my student loan, just like I said. I even brought that documentation to court, despite it not being required.”
“It wasn’t no gift. What man you know give a bitch eight thousand that ain’t his wife?!”
“You. That’s who,” She threw the words at him like stones. “I thought you did it because you cared, but of course, like most men, you had ulterior motives. If anyone should be talking about someone owing money, it should be you to me. Not once did I ask you for the money back for all of those car rentals, the trips, and your harebrained business ideas. When we first got together, I didn’t have much, but as I stacked my money, I was more than generous with you. Instead of you callin’ it even, you decided to take me to court. Funny how that happened right after I broke up with you.”
“It ain’t have nothin’ to do with that.”
“Bull! Get yo’ own shit. Ain’t nothing more pathetic than a grown ass, able-bodied man beggin’ a woman for cash, or wanting to be kept. I see you’re standin’ on business in your feminine energy era. You want a soft life, don’t you? Like Janet Jackson said in ‘For Colored Girls,’ ‘Oh, so you was doin’ the bendin’!’ Hobosexual ass.”
“That’s what’s wrong with you Black females. When we set yo’ ass straight, you try ’nd say we gay. We just sick of y’all shit, and that’s why I’m red pill, and a Passport bro, now. Fuck y’all Black bitches. Most of y’all never support your man, but always have your hands out.”
She burst out laughing and shook her head. “King Gaslighter strikes again. Man, you ain’t nothin’ but a disgruntled, bitchy ass degenerate. I never accused you of being gay – I’m just highlightin’ your feminine ways. Besides, most gay men I know have far more masculinity in them than you have in your baby toe, and they ain’t waiting on a woman to take care of their needs. Now just admit it: You were trying to buy me, but I can’t be bought, and when I had the nerve to leave yo’ ass after all the mess you did to me, you were salty.”
“You crazy! Ain’t nobody had—”
“You thought that money would make me owe you for life. Put up with your nonsense indefinitely. Like my whole existence is only worth eight racks. Boy, please!” She cackled as she slowed to a red light. She turned up her music, and ‘Interior Crocodile Alligator’ by Chip Tha Ripper almost drowned out his noise.
“I need that money, and you’re going to give it to me. I don’t care if you have to sell yo’ ass to the highest bidder, or what the judge said. That money belongs to me. Besides, I know you’re good for it.”
“You don’t know what I’m good for because my financial status is no longer your concern. Now, do you have something worth discussing? Because some of us know how to make our own money, and do it twenty-four-seven. Take notes.”
“Yeah, I got something worth discussing. I heard about yo’ ass on Only Fans now. They say you hittin’ six figures just for playin’ with yourself.”
“What I’m doin’ or not doin’ is none of your damn business. You don’t need to be pocket watchin’ people—mind the business that pays you.”
“Yeah, it was definitely you. I know what your titties and ass look like. Egyptian tattoo…They ain’t call you Nadia thee Stallion for nothin’. You got a video called, ‘Cookie Monster.’ Stuffin’ Oreos in your pussy. Nasty ass bitch.” In fact the particular video he was referring to wasn’t her, but several people had told her about this doppelganger model several times in said viral video. The woman was originally an IG model. When she Googled her, she noted the resemblance. They definitely could be sisters, but that was neither here nor there.
“I don’t care what you believe, and I don’t have anything to prove to you. Now I bid you goodnight.”
“Just pay back six thousand, and we can call it even. I still love you, by the way… I miss your crazy ass, too, you know that?” He chuckled. Forcing it – spinning into another whirlwind of twisted psychological maneuvering.
“In ten minutes, you went from demanding money and calling me a bitch to trying to strike a deal and declaring your feelings. If life was fair, I’d be filing charges on you. If there was a court that was truly just, I could file a lawsuit for habitual cheating. Habitual lying. Habitual love bombing and mental abuse. You don’t know what love is, LeRon. Your entire identity is built on mind games, misery making, and manipulation. If I could sue you for emotional trauma, I’d be a millionaire.”