His name is Marley, though he ain't no way related to that famous reggae family. I've been in love with his lousy ass for a long time, though he don't ever know it. So many times I've watched his ass stroll past me along the neighbourhood streets, with skank hoe in his arm, barely glancing my way. How jealous it always made me feel to think that a girl like myself could never have a fine looking man as him. I took my time studying his movements: his favourite hangouts, friends and most especially his type of women. It seems he always likes them with long shoulder-length hair; mine is short and kinky.
How I so much wanted to worship the ground on which he walked on; feel him wrap his arms all over me as he would his other women, and giggle when he whispers into my ear. For him, I would walk forty nights in the desert. So many nights I've laid in bed daydreaming about him -- making hot love to him. Always his face was the last thing I saw before my eyes went to sleep. You may take me unserious but there's nothing I wouldn't do for him, if only he would one day stop to glance at my way.
That was when I decided to take matters into my own hands: if he wasn't going to make himself notice me, then I just as well was going to make absolutely sure that he did.
I sold off a couple of my gold earrings and a fancy necklace and went to cop myself a .38 pistol from some juvie gangbanger who lived down the block from where I was. That same day, I drove over to Marley's place. It was a little past four in the evening. I knew his black ass would be at home -- he usually don't step out for his evening cruise until about six. I'd done my homework well on him. I also knew that chances are that he wouldn't be alone, which was why I figured the gun would come in handy to make sure that he and I were ... undisturbed.
I made my way up the stairs till I arrived at his apartment door on the third floor of the building where he lived. I knocked and waited for someone to come and answer, taking the gun out of my waist and cocking back the hammer. I could hear music and laughing voices from behind the door -- it sounded like a party was going on in there. One more time I banged my fist on the door, harder this time, and then heard what sounded like approaching footsteps. There came the sound of the lock fumbling as the door then came open and a blonde bitch wearing a bathrobe stuck her face through the opening at me.
"Can I help you?" she said to me, like I was here to drop off the morning paper or something.
"Yes, I believe you can," I sneered at the same time pushed her ass back into the room, pulling the gun out while I did. I aimed it at her pretty forehead and with the back of my feet kicked the door close. All of a sudden, she looked like a scared mouse, the way she looked frightened at me.
"Please ... please ... whatever it is you want ... ju ... just don't hurt me."
"I ain't here for your stupid behind, girl. Where's Marley at?"
"He's ... he's in the bedroom ..." she said, cocking a thumb over her shoulder. "Round the back."
