by Tiana Laveen
“Back to Hope’s humpback whale, SpongeBob Square Pants built ass? I said that you ain’t broke, number one. You just moved to Boca Raton, in a good ass neighborhood, and secondly, I told her there was nothin’ wrong with wanting a baller, a shot caller, even if you were. Why is it that can’t nobody want anything better than their own circumstances? I mean, damn! Do we all have to be destitute and miserable? I hate heffas like her.”
“Me too.” She sucked her teeth and studied her cuticles. “She knew not to say that shit to my face. She would’ve been looking for her own after it came out of her mouth. How gutless do you have to be to talk big and bad about someone when they’ve moved away.”
“Joy can’t even stand her, Majesty, and that’s her own sister. I’m not fucking with that envy energy. It’s toxic. I’ve been reading about vibes, and gratitude.” Majesty recalled the recent conversation she and Destiny had had about such things. It had got her thinking about it, too. “Any woman who shows me that she can’t abide another woman gettin’ ahead, I cut ’em off. No explanation. That’s some devious shit.”
“It is. I can’t stand it one bit, and I’ve cut people off for far less. I don’t have the patience for that kind of stupidity. I’m just trying to get my life in order and give my son happy memories, keep him safe, love him, and fill his head with education. This is one thing my mother taught me that I can totally vouch for. She said women will be your sisters and your worst enemy, Destiny, all at the same time. They’ll do you dirty, worse than a lyin’, cheating ass man. If we ain’t got nothing, we never want the one next to us to have anything, either. Always being negative, putting each other down, being happy when someone’s dreams get crushed. And we love to see people acting nasty to one another. We wanna join in on the action and get our laugh on.” Her stomach knotted with thoughts of her own past when far too often she’d ended up being the butt of hateful jokes. “I’m too grown for that now.” She turned on the faucet and ran some water in the sink to wash a few glasses. “If I don’t like you, I don’t like you, but it sure as hell won’t be due to me wanting something you got.”
“Girl, sometimes it’s not even that they want what you have. They just don’t want yo’ ass to have it!”
“Preach!”
“Women puttin’ other women down is gross. Pure stank coochie energy. Ewww, bitch! Uplift or set adrift. No one wants you here! You and your jealousy are dismissed!” Majesty burst out laughing. When annoyed, Destiny certainly had a way with words. And she loved her best friend something fierce. “So, anyway, since you’re blowing your girls off for a dick, tell me about this man, chile!”
Majesty dried her hands off, poured herself a glass of wine and settled down at her kitchen nook. She took a sip and looked off into the distance.
“Girl, he is fine as fuck. I mean… stop-dead-in-your-tracks gorgeous. He’s rough though. Not just around the edges, but everywhere. He’s not a pretty boy at all. But he’s… striking all the same, if that makes sense? Looks like he’ll walk on broken glass barefoot and not even blink.”
“What he look like?!” Destiny didn’t even try to hide her eagerness to get the details. It tickled Majesty so.
“Well, he’s Cuban, and—”
“Black Cuban or White Cuban?”
Majesty chuckled. She knew what Destiny meant. There were definitely two different kinds.
“White Cuban.”
“Hmm, again, what he look like?”
“I was tryna tell you! You keep interjecting.” She laughed. “So, he’s about six-three or six-four, and he—”
“Ohhhh! He’s tall! Yaaasssss, baby!”
“Would you stop interrupting me?!” They were both cracking up now.
“All right, shit! You ain’t gotta get huffy,” her friend teased. “Finish.”
“So, yeah, he’s tall and he has tattoos all over his damn body, girl. Very sexy. He has black hair and a short beard. Muscular… whew!”
“Like a bodybuilder?”
“He ain’t swole up like Mike O’Hearn, if that’s what you mean, but you can tell he works out. He’s a big guy. Okay, so that’s the physical. Here’s the nitty gritty. Destiny, I’m not really certain what’s going on, I need to get more information about the depth of his involvement, but… he’s a L.K.”
“An L.K.? What’s… Oh, shit! A Latin King? Bitch! Is you crazy?!” Destiny burst out laughing before Majesty joined in.
“I must be.” Majesty wouldn’t stop struggling with her own emotions over the situation. “He’s thirty-one, so I don’t think he’s in real deep like that anymore, but he still keeps tabs, and he’s still friends with his brothers I guess they call them, the other gang members. I doubt he’s involved in anything illegal. He told me he wasn’t. Not that that means anything, men are always lying, but trust me, I was checking, and I know what to look out for. No signs of any shady shit whatsoever. What really makes me think that though is that he lives out here, literally right across the street from me, and the police don’t bother him.”
“Is he on probation or something?”
“Nope. He grew up in Little Havana, moved out here almost a year ago. He told me he needed to lie low, get a fresh start. He didn’t want to be around the stuff he was around before twenty-four-seven.”
Destiny drew quiet. That hamster wheel brain of hers was working overtime.
“Does he have kids?”
“No, he doesn’t have any. What’s interesting is that he seems to get along well with children. Troy had a few of his friends over here some time ago and he was playing with them, and they were talking to him like it was nothing. You know how mistrustful Troy is. I didn’t say anything, but that kind of blew me away.”
“Yeah, Troy is real funny about strangers. That’s good actually.”
“It is. Troy also told me later that night that he thinks Viper likes me. Of course, I played it off like I didn’t know what he was talking about.” She smiled before taking another sip of her wine. “You know I don’t let random men around my son.”
“True. True.”
“Now, check this out. The kicker was that Troy’s old ball they’d been playing with was a little deflated. The next morning, a new ball just like it appeared on our front porch. He ain’t leave no note, no nothing, but I knew it was him that left it.”
“Hmmm, that was nice. Girl, look, you know you can look these guys up now. Since he’s an LK, we already know he has a record, but you can just—”
“I actually called Erica and she gave me the 411.” Erica was a friend they’d all went to high school with who was now a police officer. The only one she trusted. She and Majesty had always been cool. Every now and again, from time to time, Majesty would let her know about things she’d heard in their old neighborhood, on the down low, to possibly assist in solving crimes, and Erica would give her information about guys she might be interested in. Erica was also the one who’d helped solve Kevin’s murder. A chill ran down Majesty’s spine when she thought about the night she’d found out someone had shot and killed her first love.
“So… uh, yeah. He’s got a rap sheet. A bad one, I’m not going to lie to you, but most of it is old, like four or five years ago was the last thing I saw. And there’s nothing involving rape, beating women up, messin’ with kids, or anything like that.”
“Well, that’s good. Girl, living out here, we’d be hell pressed to find someone without a record. Plus, the cops ride Black and Brown people so hard.”
“Tell me about it.” She finished off her wine, rinsed the glass out, and set it in the sink. “Well, sis, I gotta get dressed to go out with him. I’ll find out more tonight, and if I even see a piece of a red flag, I’m out.”
“Hold up, you never told me his name and I need information in case your ass ends up in a ditch. You know we don’t play that!” Destiny was right. Whenever they met a new man and either of them went out with him, they’d give each other all the information about the guy. It had been so long since she’d been o
n a date, she’d nearly forgotten.
“His name is Dominic Martinez. He goes by the nickname, ‘King Viper.’” She proceeded to run off his address, his occupation, his number, and a few other details.
“All right, got it. I’m going to check him out online, too. Is he on social media?”
“Yeah, but his pages are private and he isn’t on there much, at least that was what he said when I asked to add him onto mine. I did find a couple of photos of him on there though. I’ll send one to you. For research purposes, of course.” She chuckled.
CHAPTER TEN
A Snake in One’s Bosom
Majesty and Destiny continued to talk for a couple of minutes, when she promised to text her friend at the start and end of the date. She then switched on her music and listened to Stwo’s, ‘Neither Do I’, featuring Jeremih as she showered in the large ivory and silver bathroom, one of her favorite rooms in her entire home. She had it lit with candles, and a beautiful silver and ivory pineapple shaped diffuser that perfumed the air with lavender and peppermint essential oils. This was her tiny retreat, her sanctuary.
She stood under the hot stream of water, washing away the stress of the day. Her body shivered as she set aside the pain and frustrations of life, thoughts of which kept coming to the forefront of her mind, trying to take over.
The strawberry scented lather from her Victoria’s Secret bath gel, another gift from her mother, helped to soothe her. When she was finished, she stepped out of the shower enclosure, dried off with a soft, baby pink towel, leaving a little moisture along her legs and arms to mix in with her scented almond body oil and gardenia lotion.
She sat at the bedroom vanity in her robe and fingered through her tresses, twisting the strands and pinning them up with an Oriental style black and red clip. Then, she proceeded to moisturize her face and apply a makeup primer. She’d wear basic makeup for work, but for dates, she spent a bit more time on her desired look, lashes and all. It had been quite some time since she’d been out with a man. She had her share of male friends and associates and would sometimes meet them for lunch on her breaks or for drinks when the time allowed, but this was an entirely different ball game. She searched inside her drawer for the eyeshadow palette she wanted, and though a bit rusty at applying a full glam look, it was like riding a bike – it all came tumbling back.
Twenty or so minutes later, she was done, and applied a finishing spray to set in her makeup. She looked at herself in the mirror, turning her head slowly from left to right. The highlight of her cheeks, the rich plum of her blush against her brown skin seemed perfect, and the matte wine-colored lipstick she’d opted for, versus her go-to clear or pale pink glosses, pulled off the look she wished to achieve. She took a deep breath and managed a smile, almost not recognizing herself like this. Giving herself a wink, she rose to her feet, put on her underwear, and slipped on the black off shoulder jumpsuit she’d purchased two years prior from TJ Maxx but had never worn. Next came the faux gold necklace, small gold hoops, and the release of her hair from the clip. She sat back down at her vanity, sprayed a conditioner and water mixture to make her natural curls and waves pop, then scrunched it with hair mousse before tussling it over one shoulder. For a final touch, she reached for the perfume her mother had bought her for her birthday three years prior and which she used for special occasions: Lancôme la nuit trésor à la folie. After spritzing it behind her ears, along her wrists, neck, clothing and hair, she set the elegant burgundy glass bottle down, and checked her image a final time.
Her stomach flipped, feeling like it teemed with butterflies high on sugar cookies sprinkled with cocaine. She tried to drum up some shame for being attracted to yet another ‘wrong’ man, and yet, she felt none. Such an emotion didn’t resonate with her soul at the moment.
She rose and slid on a pair of elegant heels. Anklet… I should put on a gold anklet, too. She opened drawer after drawer of a tall black dresser full of scattered accessories – knock-off fake designer sunglasses, amazing costume jewelry rings, beautifully printed scarves, bracelets, and the like, desperately trying to find her gold and diamond anklet that she hadn’t worn in years.
DING DONG! DING… DONG…
The sound of the doorbell startled her, and in a panic, she looked at the clock.
“Oh shit, it’s nine. Like he said, he’s here right on time.”
She grabbed her purse and made a mad dash out of her bedroom, then down the hall, until she forced herself to slow the hell down. Why am I running? Make that mothafucka wait. Act casual, like you almost forgot he was coming… She took slow, steady steps to the front door. As she glimpsed through the peephole, those damn butterflies rose high to the tallest ceilings now, doing somersaults and snorting cocaine and crushed sugar dust like pros. On the other side of the door stood a gorgeous man dressed in a button-down black shirt and matching pants. She got a peek of his black chest hair above the collar, where a subtle gold chain hung around his neck. His jet-black hair was combed away from his face, allowing her to see the full gorgeousness of his bone structure. His fingers sparkled with gold and diamonds. She opened the door and her lungs filled with the intoxicating scent of his cologne. They smiled at each other.
“I told you I’d be on time.”
“I had no idea how to dress, so I tried to not go overboard, while dressing up a little.” She stepped out of her home onto the porch and locked the door.
“You’re dressed perfectly. You look beautiful, too.”
She shot him a glance before slipping her keys into her purse, then tugging onto the front door handle for good measure. The lock tended to stick.
“Well, thank you. You look nice, too.” Her cheeks flushed with heat. “Where are we going? I want to know before I get into your car and you drive me off to Lord knows where.”
He raised a brow.
“I wanted to surprise you, but since you want to know, I’m takin’ you to dinner, then dancing.”
Pulling out her cellphone, she sent Destiny a text with that information, and also to let her know she was leaving her home. Once she sat in his Bugatti and practically OD’d on the scent of leather, she snuck a quick glance at him out the corner of her eye as he put the key into the ignition, which looked more like a USB stick. A bunch of lights lit up in shades of electric light blue as he pulled out of her driveway and worked the shift. I ain’t never been in no car like this! It’s like some spaceship! Damn, this car is bad! I wish Destiny and Joy could see this.
“How many cylinders are in this car?” she asked as she put on her seatbelt.
“Sweet sixteen.”
“Sixteen cylinders? Wow!”
Viper had on a serious expression as he drove, but in truth he always looked that way. The ride was so smooth, it felt like they were damn near floating. He turned on the radio and Mokenstef’s, ‘He’s Mine’ began to play on the R&B oldies station.
“You listen to R&B?”
He nodded, then tossed her a look as if to say, ‘Of course. What a silly question.’
“You don’t look like the R&B type.” She started to snap her fingers to the tune that had hit the airwaves when she was a young girl. She’d had the nerve to sing the lyrics back then, too, as if she knew anything about the perils of toxic love and the tortured minds of men.
“What? You thought I’d be playing ‘La Bamba’ or some shit like that?” He grinned. Meanwhile, they approached the expressway.
“I don’t know about all that. It just surprises me is all.” They enjoyed the ride in silence then, and she was feeling the music and the vibe. Viper was silent, ignoring all the people checking out his car as he drove past. Maybe he was used to it. Broke people don’t have cars like this… houses like his… the clothing he’s wearing and the jewelry he flashes. She wasn’t her mother, always focusing on her looks in her relentless chase after a man’s dollar, but curiosity ate at her. He didn’t appear short on anything.
Money or not, there would be no second date unless he passed her ba
ttery of tests and answered her questions to her satisfaction. She damn sure wasn’t fucking him tonight, risking giving herself and developing feelings for a guy who only wished to toy with her emotions and sell her a bunch of rainbow-colored dreams to hide the actual nightmares covered in shit.
“So, training dogs brings in good money?” she asked flat out.
“Ask me what you really wanna ask me…” he said, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. ‘Anniversary,’ by Tony Toni Tone was playing.
“What do you think I really want to ask you?” She was too entertained for her own good.
“You want to know if I’m doing something crazy to afford my shit.” He stroked his beard as he kept his eye on the road.
“I do. I was in your house. Great furniture and set up, and I only saw a small portion of it. I know you may think I’m overstepping, but to me, in this day and age, to not ask the important questions from the jump would be stupid… and stupid I am not. Your house obviously is really nice, and I can’t see how dog training can support that.” Flashes of the bitch in the grocery store flooded her mind. Was she doing the same thing to Viper? I sure as hell am. That heffa isn’t dating me. This mothafucka wants to fuck me. Little does he know, I’ve been in such a drought that his damn voice alone makes me sprinkle my panties and if I were to give in to temptation, a piece of overcooked chicken and a dried-up string bean was all that would be needed to part these damn thighs like the Red Sea. Thankfully, I have self-discipline. But still, I deserve to know.
“Do you even know what dog training entails and how much potential money can be made, Majesty?”
She swallowed. She hadn’t even thought that far. It didn’t matter. It just didn’t seem realistic. Who the hell gets rich training a mutt to fetch a newspaper?!
“Well, you’re right. Most dog trainers don’t make a lot of money.”
She inwardly sighed with relief, yet also bristled with concern.