by Jade Jones
After realizing how ratchet and classless she looked, Kim finally backed off. “You know what? I don’t need this shit. You ain’t my nigga and I got my own headache to deal with.”
“Bye, bitch! Be gone!” Dana yelled over Desmond’s shoulder. She was still hemmed up against the wall as she talked shit. “And don’t ever bring yo’ bum ass back!”
Snatching up her purse and shoes, Kimberlyn headed to the front door in rage. Mean-mugging Monica, she dared the bitch to try to run up on her again. Fortunately, she was wise enough not to.
Kimberlyn was through with Desmond’s lying ass. A nigga will say whatever to get some pussy, she thought. I am so straight on him. He can have that ratchet shit.
“Kim, hol’ up right quick. I wanna talk to you,” Desmond said after her.
Ignoring him, Kimberlyn slammed the front door behind her. She didn’t want to hear a damn thing he had to say. Walking briskly to her parked truck, she hopped inside. The tears forming in her eyes blurred her vision, but she wouldn’t dare allow them to drop over spilled milk.
“Fuck that bitch and fuck him,” she said, pulling off.
10
“Good morning, sleepy head,” a high-pitched voice sang. “You awake yet?”
Romeo slowly opened his eyes and looked up at a slightly familiar face. He could recall where he’d met her before he could her actual name, but that’s usually how it went with him. Every morning was a different face. Most women were lucky if they even got a call the next day.
“Shit,” Romeo groaned, reaching for his throbbing head. The mild hangover was a temporary consequence of late night partying but he was used to that too.
Once he dropped off Shayla, Romeo visited a couple after hour spots—where he’d met the lucky girl that was now in his bed. After a few drinks and conversation, one thing eventually led to the other.
“Don’t you got somewhere to be?” Romeo asked, climbing out the king-sized bed.
“Ugh. Somebody’s grouchy in the mornings,” she teased.
Romeo took one look at the female and became annoyed all over again. He usually didn’t let women sleep over because they ended up getting to comfortable like the one before him.
Helping herself, the brown-skinned cutie picked his Rolex up off the nightstand and examined it. The piece of jewelry was worth more than her house and car combined. “And not really. I was actually hoping we could get some breakfast,” she smiled.
“My pops taught me as a kid that hope was for the weak,” Romeo said cynically. Born to a pimp and a prostitute, his upbringing had been pretty tough, and it showed in his treatment towards women. Like father, like son. “Show yourself out. And lock the front door behind you.”
Sucking her teeth, she watched as he headed inside the master bathroom. “Fucking asshole,” she muttered after he closed the door.
Disappointed and offended, Romeo’s one-night stand hopped out the bed and quickly dressed. He’d seemed like such a gentleman last night only to treat her like shit the following morning. “What the hell is his problem?”
After dressing hastily, she quickly walked out the bedroom. Romeo didn’t reemerge from the bathroom until he finally heard the front door close behind her. Good fucking riddance.
Twenty minutes after his guest’s departure, Romeo walked out his bedroom fully dressed and ready for the day. He was surprised when he found Ava in the kitchen munching on celery sticks while listening to Jhene Aiko. A few of his homies were also posted, lounging around as if they didn’t have homes of their own. Romeo didn’t mind, however. He was used to the shit. The small organization was comprised of more than just co-workers and friends. They were family.
Romeo made a quick mental note to himself to hire a personal chef. They’d had one back home, but he hadn’t had a chance to get a new one since their relocation.
“What’chu doin’ here? Usually, you be at Dez’s by this time,” Romeo said to Ava. “And why you lookin’ all depressed and shit? Is it that time of month?”
A few of the niggas snickered at his question.
Romeo and Ava lived together in a 7-bedroom, 10-bathroom European estate nestled in the heart of Atlanta. Since the two of them had always been the closest from day one, they decided to split the mortgage as roommates. At only twenty-one, Ava was like the baby sister Romeo never had, and he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt a motherfucker about his.
“Desmond had one of his groupies over so I told him I’d come back later,” she said nonchalantly.
“Why’d you care?” Romeo asked her. Had it been him, he would’ve never allowed a bitch to hold up his progress—let alone his money.
“I don’t,” Ava quickly lied. Even though, Romeo was like a second brother to her, she’d had yet to tell him she was secretly in love with Desmond. With the way he ran through chicks, she figured he’d never be able to understand. Hell, she barely did herself.
“Aight then. Whatever, you say, V.” Dropping the subject, Romeo pulled out his iPhone and scrolled through his contacts log. That day he did wake up with someone on his mind, and it certainly wasn’t the bitch that had left his crib moments earlier.
***
If you a lame, nigga you ain't making no noise…
Get faded, turn up with the big boys…
Live fast, die young that's my choice…
Get money, get money like an invoice…
Groaning slightly, Shayla stirred awake after hearing her phone ring. Assuming it was her job hitting her up for a no call, no show, she anxiously grabbed her iPhone and answered. “Hello?”
“Damn, you still sleep?” Romeo asked. “Get’cha ass up, girl. A wise man once told me ‘Lose an hour in the morning, and you’ll be all day hunting for it’.”
Shayla quickly settled down after realizing she was off work that day. Sitting up in bed, she wiped the sleep out the corners of her eyes and looked over at the digital clock. It read 11:15 a.m. Usually, she never slept that late in the day, but then again she never drank either.
“Good morning to you too,” Shayla said in a muffled tone.
“Get dressed. I wanna take you out.”
***
“I don’t give a fuck what’chu gotta do…what strings you gotta pull…or whoever the fuck you gotta walk over to get it done, just get me up out dis bitch,” Cool said.
Seated across from him was a mousy but smooth-talking defense lawyer—who was supposedly one of the best in the city. Seth Adelstein had been on Cool’s case since the day the charges were slapped on him. Hell, even before then he kept Seth close like a nigga kept a side chick. In his profession, shit was bound to go south at any given moment. Keeping a lawyer on his payroll was supposed to keep his ass free. But a no-nonsense judge and strict jury changed all that shit.
Seth crossed his legs and interlocked his fingers around his knee. His cognac-colored Forzieri dress shoes looked as if they’d been spit shined. “I told you before, Christopher. You gotta meet me halfway if you want me to start performing magic tricks. An appeal certainly has to be worth the time and effort. And you hold something vital—something the FBI could really use. And as they say ‘even swap no swindle.”
Cool gave Seth the side eye. “You tellin’ me to break the silence?” he asked, somewhat offended. Since a kid, he’d firmly believed in the no-snitch policy.
“I’m not telling you to do anything, Mr. Williams,” Seth said. “I’m simply implying that if you want me to scratch your back, you have to scratch mine.”
Cool sighed dejectedly before running a hand over his stubble. For the last year all he’d been concerned with was getting back on. But after Kim walked out on him yesterday, all that suddenly mattered was freedom. Besides, if his girl really was done with him he’d no longer have any residual income. Almost every niggas in his camp had turned their backs after his imprisonment, but that was to be expected in the game. Aside from Kim, no one else visited him or called in to put money on his books. His parents were dead, and Kim and Jordan were the onl
y ones he had in his corner.
“I ain’t tryin’ to die in this bitch alone,” he told Seth. Suddenly, loyalty and street codes were the furthest things on his mind. Cool abandoned all dignity when he leaned forward and muttered, “Fuck it. For my freedom, I’ll sing like a mufuckin’ canary.”
11
“Did you see how that nigga was protecting that bitch?! Girl, I could cut that motherfucker for disrespecting me!” Dana screamed. “Talkin’ ‘bout he moved here for opportunities. Looked like he moved to parlay with a bunch of bitches!”
She, Monica, and her 8-year old daughter Destiny were inside a suite at the St. Regis Hotel. Until she figured things out with her baby daddy, it was Dana and Destiny’s temporary residence.
Dana had already made her mind up. Either she was going back to Cali with Desmond, or he was putting her in a crib in the A. Either way she planned on being a thorn in his side. Monica was just along for the ride since she loved entertainment.
“Mommy, am I gonna be able to see daddy?” Destiny asked in a small voice. Although she knew her mother was in a bad mood, she couldn’t hide her excitement of rekindling with her father.
Whenever Desmond wanted to break things off with Dana she purposely kept his daughter away to annoy him. She figured their child was more than enough leverage to make him stay. Sadly, she was wrong.
Desmond didn’t even know that she’d used a similar tactic to trap him with a baby. Poking holes in their condoms finally paid off after several attempts…and nine months later Destiny was born.
No matter how hard Desmond thought he could shake Dana, it would never happen. They were bonded by a child, and he had no choice but to put up with her for life. And she definitely planned on making it a living hell if she couldn’t be a part of it.
“Girl, get out my fucking mouth and watch cartoons!” Dana snapped. Her mothering skills were lacking since she spent most of her time chasing after Desmond. Now, seven years later, it still never got tiring.
Afraid of being chastised, Destiny quickly focused on SpongeBob. She, like everyone else, knew how crazy her mama was.
“Girl, I can’t believe any of that shit,” Monica instigated. “If it was me, I’d be slashing a motherfucker’s tires out.” She loved to boast what she’d do in similar situations, but she hadn’t had a man since ’06. Instead of building her own relationship, she settled for a front row seat to Dana and Desmond’s.
Grabbing her cellphone, Dana called her baby daddy for the seventh time that afternoon. As expected, he didn’t even bother answering. Had he known his daughter was with her he would have, but Dana was keeping that bit of info to herself.
When it was clear Desmond wouldn’t pick up, Dana sent a tasteless text message she knew would him rattle him up. I’m only just getting started mothafucka. Get rid of these hoes or I will. Now play wit it.
***
“About damn time!” Rita hounded Kim the minute she walked inside her home. She’d been babysitting Jordan all night even though Kim told her she’d only be out a few hours. “Where the hell you been, girl? I told you I had—Oh, my God! What is that on your shirt? Is that blood?”
Rita was Kimberlyn’s forty-seven year old live-in aunt who occasionally helped out with Jordan. She had also raised Kim since the age of twelve after losing her mother in an automobile accident. The unexpected death of her sister took a heavy toll on Rita, and eventually she turned to drugs and alcohol to numb the pain. Over time, it went from her caring for Kim to Kim caring for her.
Though Rita had thankfully kicked the habits, her finances had taken a major hit. Four years ago, she lost her home and Cool graciously stepped up by moving her in. After all, it wasn’t like they didn’t have the room in their four-bedroom Craftsman home.
Back when Cool was the man, he’d brought Kimberlyn the 4100 sq. ft. house and paid for it in cash. He had also hired an interior decorator to spruce up the place to his fiancé’s liking. Kimberlyn felt like a queen…But soon after she discovered the side chicks he’d also brought homes for behind her back.
Rita never did bother with getting back on her feet. Cool had her and Kimberlyn spoiled senselessly, and instead of seeking independence, she became a permanent addition to the household family.
“It’s nothing Auntie Rita,” Kim said, waving her off. “Look, I had a long night.”
“Well, I could have too had you returned on time! Yo’ ass too damn old to be out in the streets fightin’ like you ain’t gotta child at home.” Rita huffed. She was a spitting image of Kimberlyn’s mother, and even had the sass to go with it. “By the way, Cool called this morning. He was saying something about his case being overturned,” she explained. “I told him you were out with Shayla. He wasn’t too happy about not being able to talk to you.”
Kimberlyn grimaced at the mention of her baby’s father. He was the last person she wanted to hear about or speak to—especially after all the drama with Desmond.
“That nigga ain’t gettin’ out no time soon,” Kim waved her off. “And right now Cool is really the least of my worries.”
12
The following morning, Romeo and his camp had the entire mansion foggy with thick marijuana clouds. With every fresh batch, they tested the goods personally to make sure they were ready for distribution.
Ab-Soul’s “Terrorist Threats” poured through the built in speakers. It was only 10 a.m., but they had the place turnt up. Thankfully, their home was tucked off in the cut away from nosey neighbors with a good sense of smell.
Romeo blew several large O’s before blowing a smaller one through all of them. He’d been smoking herb since the age of twelve and knew damn near every trick in the book. “Aye, I think I wanna buy a strip club,” he said, eyes bloodshot red.
Ava coughed several times before struggling to respond. When she realized she couldn’t, she burst out laughing at her own master concoction..
“It’s settled then,” Romeo said after no one spoke up.
A few of his homies laughed and told him how much of a clown he was. But on the low he had it all mapped out. A new club could serve as a front; after all, where was the number one spot most celebrities liked to frequent?
“I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ ya’ll today,” Romeo laughed, standing to his feet.
“Where you goin’?” Ava whined.
“Finna get up with a new friend,” Romeo said over his shoulder. Once he was alone in the hallway, he pulled out his phone and hit up Shayla.
Surprisingly, she answered on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Mornin’. I see yo’ ass up and at ‘em today, huh?”
Shayla laughed. “I, um, took your advice,” she told him.
“Right, right,” he chuckled. “Shit, you hungry? Let’s get somethin’ to eat at Peachtree on Watershed. I read somewhere they had the best brunch in the A.”
“Read?” Shayla repeated subconsciously.
Romeo chuckled at the surprise in her voice. “Yeah…A nigga read sometimes,” he told her.
“I wasn’t saying it like that,” Shayla lied.
“Yeah, I hear you. But look, you gon’ meet me in an hour or what?” Romeo was tired of her stalling. His assertiveness was something Shayla wasn’t used to, but she couldn’t deny that it was a turn on. In his world, he was used to making demands, and in hers she was used to following them.
“It may take me longer. I don’t have a car,” Shayla admitted.
“What? Time out. What’chu mean you ain’t got no car?”
Shayla laughed nervously, not expecting his bold reaction. “I…I don’t have a car,” she repeated timidly. Shayla didn’t know why Romeo was making such a big deal about it. She knew plenty of people who didn’t own a set of wheels.
Romeo sighed into the receiver dramatically. “Man, change of plans. I’ll be to you in about an hour. You better be ready too,” he told her. “And not just for a date…For a nigga like me.”
Before Shayla could ask what he meant, Romeo disconnected the call.
“Oh my God,” she smiled to herself. “What did I just get myself into?”
Snatching the covers off her body, Shayla quickly hopped out the bed and ran to the bathroom to shower. Something told her, Romeo was going to give her a run for her money.
***
Shayla’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she and Romeo pulled into Mercedes-Benz of Buckhead. Earlier they had agreed to lunch at Watershed on Peachtree so she didn’t know why they were pulling into a car dealership instead.
Romeo didn’t bother elaborating as he parked and turned off the vehicle. That day he was driving a black on black Bentley Coupe with peanut butter guts. It was quite obvious to Shayla that he liked fast things. Too bad she wasn’t. Shayla could only hope she didn’t bore him after a while. They seemed like total opposites, and she was sure he noticed it too.
I wonder what he sees in me, Shayla thought. If he sees anything at all…
Don’t be ridiculous. He wouldn’t be kicking it with you right now if he didn’t see anything, her conscience argued.
Together, they climbed out the car and headed towards the building. Shayla was surprised when Romeo took her hand in his and led the way. A part of her missed that subtle physical contact with a man. However, the other half questioned his motives.
Shayla thought about her recent breakup with Dexter, and wondered if she was truly ready for something real. Before she could figure it out an anxious salesman walked up to them and asked if he could be of any assistance.
Romeo pulled off his $450 Gucci sunglasses and folded them close. “I’m tryna see what dem pre-owned cars hittin’ on.”
“Certainly!” he said giddily. “My name is Bob by the way. Do you have any specific features you’re looking for?”