“It’s not that, Bone. Coming out to the island is an all-day process, and I be crazy busy. I’m gonna make it out to see you this week.”

“That’s the same thing you said last week, and the week before,” he reminded her.

“Bone, I told you that I be busy.”

“Reese, I don’t know what the fuck you got going on out there in the world, but you better get your shit together and start showing a nigga some love.”

“Bone, don’t start this shit today. I’m really not in the mood for it,” she snapped.

“Bitch, I know you ain’t trying to get fly.”

Reese held the phone away from her ear and looked at it before delivering her response. “Bone, you’ve got some nerve calling my house with this dumb shit. Nigga, you must’ve fell and bumped your head. I got a felony on my record fucking with you, yet I still keep money in your commissary and go through the headache of coming to visit you on the island.”

“Reese, that’s your job!” Bone said in a very indignant tone. “I’m your man, so you’re supposed to hold me the fuck down while I’m in here.”

“Bone, you seem to keep forgetting that I’m not the one who put you there. I have a life, and it doesn’t revolve around taking care of your grown ass. Press your mama about a damn visit.”

“If I was on the streets you wouldn’t be popping that shit, ’cause I’d bust your fucking head open!” he raged.

“Well, that’s something I won’t have to worry about anytime soon,” she taunted.

“Reese, I’m gonna kill your ass!”

“Bone, you ain’t gonna do shit, but try and keep one of them bulls from running up in your little shit box, you crack-slinging, jailbird muthafucka! Lose my number.” In the midst of Bone’s profanity-laced tirade, Reese pushed the phone’s off button. No sooner than she’d sat it down on the edge of the sink, it rang again.

“Muthafucka, can’t you take a hint?!” Reese barked into the phone.

“Damn, what he fuck did I do?” another male voice asked.

“Teddy? Oh, I know damn well you ain’t on my line.”

“Baby girl, let me explain…”

“You ain’t got to explain shit, you child-molesting muthafucka. My girl told me she saw you hugged up on that little bitch in the park.”

“Ma, that was my li’l cousin,” he protested.

“You must think I was born on Stupid Avenue. Teddy, you a foul nigga. Oh, and while I’m thinking about it, tell your fat-ass wife that I’m gonna bust her shit when I catch her, since she wanna be throwing bottles at bitches. The only thing that saved her Slim Fast–drinking ass was the fact that she ran through the red light.”